An Ethiopian Sendoff
Found this on my phone and am unsure if I posted it at the time or not. It's from the last night in Ethiopia
Thursday 22 feb 'Look at that sand over there.' I had no more than pointed to the billowing red sand backdropped by the iron grey horizon before it was around us.
I had taken my bag and helmet off my bike in anticipation of rain overnight, and was depositing them in the doorway of my tent when the heavy raindrops began to fall. The beginning of the rainy season, and our second camp with sudden torrential rainfall. Within seconds the wind was upon us also. The three pegs I had placed on the windward side of the tent were ripped out and my humble abode began to lift off the ground. I grabbed my duffel (also sitting in the porch of the tent) and threw it and all my bike gear into the inner tent in a desperate attempt to prevent the tent taking off. Grabbing at the poles and standing on the tape at the bottom of the doorway I managed to hold onto the flapping canvas. Everyone was busy rushing to put their flysheets on, and carrying various acts impact minimisation on their own tents- there was no one available to help. I reached around as much as I could, taking the clothing I had been airing and throwing it in to stay dry. Calling for someone help to me secure the tent. Liz was camped next to me, and once she had ensured her pitch was stable she came to my aid. I managed to hold the hovering structure in place while she drove pegs in to the soft sand. Tallis joined the rescue mission, staking out the guy ropes. There was one point at which I thought I should be cutting my losses and taking it down, protecting it and myself in the back of the dinner truck. I didn't much fancy the thought of no tent for the remaining 2.5 months. 'Get in your tents!' Tallis shouted above the wind. The announcement was lost on me. I looked around the empty storm lashed campsite. Tents were flattened by the wind, poles forced virtually parallel to the ground. Sand and rain lashing anything in its way. I ran shelter in the lee of the truck. The crew, some Ethiopians and a handful of riders had the same idea.
We could no longer see the camp as t was in the windward side. I took solice in the fact that I hadn't seen my red Hilleberg blow past yet. The evening had been so calm. The sky blue.
We were sitting out discussing future cycling trips, reading, diary writing and killing time before dinner and rider meeting. The storm had come from no where. An amazing display of the true strength and volatility of Mother Nature. We huddled under the canopy, the temperature had dropped considerably and I was crouching for warmth. Sophie's Big Agnes two person tent was lying dead at the foot of the land cruiser.
It suffered a broken pole and a large gash to it's side in the wrath of the storm. Within 10 minutes the wind has begun to drop. Tallis and Jordan went out to check the tents, there was one which was particularly pancake like. They were about to lift it and take it to safety when they thought they should check there was no one in there - 'Yes, there's someone here!' Catherine's voices replied. Most people were in their tents preventing them blowing away, spread eagled to reinforce the poles against the winds force. Sand percolating through the fabric and zips, coating everything in a fine layer. After another 10 minutes the rain began to ease enough for us to venture round to the windward side of the dinner truck for rider meeting. It was 6.20pm by the time the weather had settled enough for people to emerge. A whirlwind half an hour in the eye of the storm. I was hungry today, more so than normal, and did not appreciate the meteorological delay for dinner! We had pushed it hard on he bikes in the morning. Jenna had a flat tyre 2km after leaving camp, so we were half an hour behind the last riders setting out. For some reason this drove us to cycle the 70km to lunch in 2hours 30 minutes, over rolling hills and into a headwind. We actually did really well, and arrived at lunch in our normal order... i.e. we overtook all those that would normally arrive after us. But we suffered. I started to bomb at about 40km, but managed to hold it together, at a slower pace, to lunch. After lunch I was in a dark place mentally. I stopped at 90km for a 'reflect and recollect' moment. It paid off. Within 5mins I was back on the bike, and the darkness had evaporated. The total ride took about 5h10mins, for 127km, 950m of ascent and a headwind. The last 57km taking 2h40!
Highlights of he afternoon were more camels on the road, and our coke stop. There was also a great downhill to the coke stop.
There was a large town at 100km with numerous beverage establishments. Marty and Neil (Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee) had set up camp at a bar. There was a large crowd of young locals surrounding them. Every time a cyclist drew close they were summoned to join. The crowd would part to let us through, much like the parting of the water in the bible!
I came down after the Party Bus as I had stopped to take some pictures. The whole crowd was chanting my name. Cringe. What was even worse was an hour later I bent over to tighten my shoes - apparently I have an unusual manner for doing this which involves keeping my legs straight. Much to my embarrassment the whole crowd behind me took great delight in viewing my Lycra clad backside waving in the air. So resumed the Emma chant! Dinner was served and I was first in line. After dinner the boys managed to source some firewood and a few of us sat round the campfire. I had not managed to rescue my bra from airing on the outside of my tent, so it was saturated with water and sand. A few hours by he fire dried it out. By the time 10pm came around he stars were put and aside from the wet tents and slightly damp ground...and poor Sophie's lack of a bed...one would have no idea of the earlier lashings. A perfect epitome for our time in Ethiopia, and tomorrow we ride to Kenya.
