Wind: best friend and worst enemy
Another two long days through the desert since I last wrote. 143km yesterday, and 147km today. We have been lucky enough to have a strong tail wind for the majority of both of the days however the wind is getting very draining and tedious! Yesterday we camped at Desert Hut Camp, but there was no longer a hut as it had blown down in the wind. The Party Bus rode together for the whole day yesterday. We cruised out of Dead Camel Camp just as the sun was rising over our left shoulder. There was a wind behind us, the temperature was down but only so as my hands were cold - not like when leaving Dongola. The last few days I have been riding in my shorts, vest top, cycle shirt, cycle gillet, arm warmers and scarf. Then removing the arm warmers and scarf after about the first hour. I had never worn arm warmers before but am really liking them in Sudan, and the cycle vest. I have never dressed 'like a cyclist’ previously, but I am able to put my scarf in the pocket of my cycle top, and my arm warmers fit in my frame bag, so I don’t have to carry the backpack anymore. We had decided we would stop at the ‘Coke Stop’ at about 40km. Great decision. There was a toilet (read hole in the ground, with a brick cubicle) so we were able to relieve ourselves in private and without digging a hole. Then on the opposite side of the road, one street back, there was a tea room. Well, a lady making tea and alot of men standing round drinking.
Anton and Frank were already there, we had spotted their bikes from the road, which was how we found the place. There were the usual wooden and plastic stools, but also an old chair with some webbing - the most comfortable chair I have sat in for weeks! We ordered many small cups of Chai (Arabic for tea) and coffee (shot sized glasses, served black, with the grounds in the bottom). Both taste so much better than they do at home, for reasons unknown. The woman was sitting over a fire, behind a table with many different sizes of spout. To make the tea she picked some leaves from a green bunch on the table, placed them in a small sieve and poured the boiling water over them. We make sure to ask for the drinks with sugar on the side, otherwise you get a syrupy goodness. The glasses are almost always served on a metal tray, placed on a plastic stool. I think the locals were as entertained as we were. They were taking selfies with us, some of them were asking for us to take their picture. Karen took a photo of the tea lady and showed it back to her. Her face lit up, she had such a pretty smile. The tea room was on a little dirt street, and the hut was made of clay.
There was a row of watering cans on one side of the street which seems to be for washing hands, feet and face. I assume it is as a precursor for prayer however it could be at anytime. There was a little cart pulled by a donkey and a barrel on the back, which looked like it had been filled with water. Steph, Jenna and I made sure to wrap our scarves as skirts, to detract from ourselves. Although Jenna always seems to be the focus of attention - perhaps it is her blonde hair. Back on the road we enjoyed the tail wind to the lunch stop. Often we reach the lunch stop between 9.30 and 10.30 - having had breakfast at 6. I am sure lunch is a way for us to break up the cycle rather than a necessary refuel! Ryan does a great job at lunch, he lays out the bread and then the filing options, and then on the next table are the condiments. He keeps it very tidy, and takes care of us. This lunch stop was right beside the road, and we had to shelter behind the land cruiser out of the wind. Trucks and buses zoomed past us as we ate. Usually by lunchtime the sun is starting to heat up, so it is time to apply the sunscreen. A few people have been sick since we have come into Sudan - a gastrobug. Anton was really struggling the day we left Dongola. Ryan has had to make sandwiches for the people that are sick so as they are not handling the food and risking infecting others. The ride after lunch was more difficult/interesting. It felt like riding through a sandstorm! We had a cross wind for parts, and a tailwind in other parts. There was nothing for miles but unending sand. No villages to pass through, no people standing by the road, no camels.
The one thing that can only be experienced, and my description will never do justice to, is being passed by a bus coming the other direction. The call goes along the the line ‘Bus forward,’ you glance over the shoulder of the person in front to see one of these long distance, get out my way coaches approaching, you hear the horn toot and see the wave of sand spraying out from behind. You turn the front wheel slightly towards the bus; brace yourself; close at least the eye closest to the coach (although I screw them both up); stop smiling and purse you lips. Then the blast of displaced air pushes your bike and you towards to edge of the road; and then there is the blast of sand following suit, stinging and exfoliating your skin, finding it’s way into your ears, clothes, zips. Then the calm as you regain composure, straighten the bike (although the push of air has kind of already done this for you) and resume the cycle. Until the next assault. I can;t decide if it is fun, or scary. I think it is just what happens when you cycle through the Sudanese Sahara! The boys and Jenna wanted to race the last 15km to camp, but Steph and I continued our pace (a brisk wind assisted 30km/h plus). Camp really was in the middle of nowhere. The wind was so strong it was very unpleasant. The majority of us opted to sit out the wind, and put up our tents
later on. Aware that sitting in my cycle shorts for 3hours was going to do my skin no favours I kicked Tallis out the ‘dog box’ (the seated area on the truck that carries our bags etc) so as I could wet wipe and get changed. There was no phone signal at this camp, but I was determined to finish the book I have been reading for months. Sitting under the canopy in the lee of the truck, I was covered by a thin layer of sand within 20mins. Not happy I managed to relocated into the back of the truck, and spent the next few hours sitting on the mass of permanent bags, reading and dreaming of a hotel, with no wind, internet and a shower! Because I hadn’t put my tent up, and was hiding from the sand, I didn’t charge my battery pack with the solar panel either. Luckily there was enough left to do my phone, and I had charged my camera the day before. Pitching tents was a group effort, and there was very little space between any of them, as everyone tried to hide from the wind behind each other. The sand was pretty soft and the pegs pulled out, so rocks were put over the pegs to hold them in place. Anton and Mitch kindly helped put my house up, and stop it blowing away. I think I have mentioned, I have a Hilleberg Allak tent. It was one of the more expensive tents, but today and yesterday, has really shown it’s worth. It is alot more stable than some of the others. The MSR is quite popular and seems to be holding up too. Karen’s princess palace (it is a large tent) was bending in the wind yesterday so she ended up taking the fly up and putting it on after dark when the wind had died down. We were all in bed pretty early. We sleep and rise with the sun at the moment. The riding today was similar to yesterday - perhaps an even stronger wind. I was eager to leave
this morning and set off by myself to lunch. It was a very quick cycle, I made it to the truck within about 3hours (84km). There were alot of live camels on this part of the cycle, just beside the road, having a munch on the trees and sparse greenery. There was also the appearance of
watermelon sellers! God knows where these little pyramids of oversize watermelons had come from! Quite a sight in the desert. The salespeople we a bit scary in their manner - it is very difficult to tell the difference between and exuberant welcome, and an angry Sudanese male! About 3km after lunch I encountered my first stone thrower. A boy on my side of the road, selling watermelons, about 1m high. He pointed me to come over, I waved and shouted ‘Salam’ (hello in Arabic) and continued to cycle past. He picked up and rock and managed to get me mid thigh. Not very friendly, and I don’t even know what I did wrong! Naturally I turned round and waved at him with my middle finger - oops! I plugged my iPod in, and enjoyed the easy and fast cycle to camp. That is until 130km when the road made a 90 degree bend and the wind became my enemy. My speed dropped from 34km/h to 21km/h. What was easy became hard, both mentally and physically. I dropped the gears, bowed my head and just tried to keep going. I was trying not to let the wind make me angry. I have learnt that this is the effect the wind has on me! I began dreaming about the hotel in Khartoum again (which at 270 USD for 2 nights, I had told mum not to book, I would stay in the tent). The wind, which had been my best friend for the last 4 hours, was suddenly against me, thwarting my efforts. The sky had also turned grey and overcast. I was watching the telegraph poles which shouldered the road disappear off into the horizon, trying to determine if they (and therefore the road) made another 90 degree turn at all. Finally it did, and I had some respite…that is until I came across a pair of young teenage boys on my side of the road…. Their body language wasn’t the most approachable but I gave them the benefit of the doubt, I kept my speed stable, nd waved ‘Salam’. One of the boys threw a rock at me with such force I could hear him grunt with the effort (much like a tennis player), I have never accelerated so quickly, I was at 40km/h before I even thought about it. I could hear his sandals slapping the tarmac as he ran after me. What would he have done if I had stopped? Or if he had caught up with me? I was grateful they were on foot, and not motorbike/pushbike or donkey! I had anticipated this in Ethiopia, but not Sudan. Oh dear! Made it to camp, a town called Abu Dolooa. We are camped in what feels like a struck stop behind a police check point. There are a few shops, and a football pitch. The camp is surrounded by mud huts, and very little else. Tallis warned us yesterday that locals had complained in previous years about people exposing their backsides when finding a place to go to the toilet…there really is very little option here! I managed to find an abandoned and fallen down hut which provided some privacy.
A group of us went down to the check point village for tea and coffee - 15 teas/coffees plus some biscuits, cost 85 sudanese pounds ($3 U.S). We were served by young kids, who also appeared to be drinking the coffee. One of the big coaches pulled up while we were sitting there. About 30 men got off, and went over to the watering cans on a wooden rack (like at the coke stop mentioned before), the washed their hands, feet and faces before all lining up on a mat, facing the same direction, and started praying. A surreal sight, but it also emphasised the prevalence of religion here. You wold be in the minority if you weren’t praying.
Another windy campsite. Aedo, David and I pitched my tent this time. I am currently lying in it, sheltering from the sand and wind, although feeling very warm as it is a bit like being in a greenhouse and not being able to open the windows as the sand will come in. The whole tent is flapping and shaking in the wind, hopefully it stays pegged down and the wind drops in the night! We are heading to Khartoum tomorrow. A short day - 88km, and the last 20km will be a convoy into the city. We are camping at The Grand Villa Hotel for two nights, and have a rest day the day after tomorrow. I am very tempted to splash out on a room. I haven’t showered since Aswan, I did swim in the Nile the day after that, and have a bucket wash in Dongola, but am craving running water. Everytime I brush my hair there is a shower of sand, and every time i wipe myself with a wet wash it is the same sand covered colour it was when I last washed! Such is life in the desert, on a bike, and in a tent!
