Mud, Sweat and Tears

Wed 14 March: Dirt Day 2, Soccer Field Camp to Biti Manyanga School

So I woke up overnight because it started raining - no surprises! I had left the 'skylight of my tent' open in an attempt to ventilate and get rid of the damp smell. I stood up in a hurry, and rushed to open and lean out the door to over the top of my tent. The bit of fly that covers the top wasn't there. instant confusion. Panicked feel around. Nope not where it should be. Look in the porch of my tent; no bag, no shoes, no helmet. Some kids have stolen the top of my tent and my stuff! I had heard about it, but really thought I would wake up. What am I going to do? My tent isn't going to be waterproof at all, for the whole rest of the trip. It is at this point I also realise i took my pyjama shirt off during the night as I got too hot. Quick retreat into the tent. Re-evaluate situation. Maybe it's outside the other door. Tie sleeping bag liner around my chest and poke my head out the other door. Oh. There's my bag, and helmet, and shoes...in the porch. And there's the top of my tent. Oops. Turns out non coherent sleepy thoughts and disorientation was the culprit, not thieving kids. Moral of the story, check you are fully dressed before bursting out the tent, and check that you are using the right door.

Set off by myself again, after Jenna but before Alistair and David. It wasn't raining, but I wasn't filled with enthusiasm as I had been yesterday. More apprehensive, and my confidence was down. The board had said the first 17km were a 'nice downhill'. It was undulating, but majority downhill. The surface was initially the good - the red and hard pack dirt that is better than some tar we have cycled *cough* Sudan *cough*, The morning coke stop was at 28km, which feels a bit early to stop. I was on the lookout for chapatis but there was no one evidently making the, so I continued. The villages are often pretty colourful due to the dress of the locals, and the coloured plastic chairs. The buildings are mostly shacks with tin roofs.

The village marked the start of the intermittent dirt quality, and my struggle to lunch. Alistair had overtaken me before the village, and David passed me about 10km later. The red hard packed dirt had changed to sections of thick mud between 500-800m long. The mud was slippy, and caused my bag wheel to wiggle, not uncontrollably, but noticeably. Speed dropped with loss of traction, and mud build up on the fork stopped the wheel spinning. My crank got clogged up. It was similar to cycling through sand, apart from the mud clings to the bike, the sand just gets in to the nooks and crannies - causing delayed bike issues. Generally sitting up, getting in a low gear, steering with the body rather than handlebars and keeping a steady high cadence seems to work. Over the three days on dirt roads, I probably walked 800m max. I had to scrape the mud from the bike, and used a whole water bottle to clean my drive chain after only 30km.

There is some sadistic enjoyment about riding on the dirt. It's hard work, but it's also more mentally occupying and entraining.

I continued on to lunch, fighting my inward negativity. Not so much about the cycle, but about my cycling. As I neared lunch, I could see Marty up ahead. I quite enjoy cycling near Marty in the hills and off road as he is a strong rider on the road, struggles a bit more with hills and dirt, but still gives it a go and is generally positive and unphased. He doesn't panic, and insides confidence. Just a comforting presence, I suppose.

We arrived at lunch within 3-5mins of each other. I was in a deteriorating mood. It brightened my day to see the Sophie was sweep. If I was really struggling, cycling at the back of the field with her wouldn't be so bad. Highlight was egg salad for lunch, and new rolls. Not enough to improve my mood, had so much Nutella in my bowl that Errol the chef made a comment about it! :/

The road and weather improved after lunch. Skies cleared a little and dirt harder packed. I was still fighting a mental battle. Comparing myself to those ahead, and feeling inadequate and slow. Rationally I know that this is ridiculous and irrelevant. I am cycling through Tanzania, on a bike, in the rainy season, camping in the bush...speed doesn't matter. It's about enjoyment. No one cares but me. I'm not even slow. But I;m slower. It goes for most things I do, I feel for the amount of effort I put in I should be better than I am. It is silly as it makes everything alot harder than it needs to me, as you are fighting a mental motivation battle, not just a physical battle.

Met Marty, Neal, Alistair, Moolah and David at a coke stop. I had a brief stop and continued ahead. It did take a while for them to catch up. I warned Alistair that I wasn't good company and he would be better to move along but we kind of stuck together.

I even managed to end to the day on a good note, arriving into camp with David and Alistair. Alistair has been really great over the last week, pulling me along and distracting me from trivial confidence issues. He manages to distract and entertain me with his stories, and also doesn't make me feel like I am boring him by cycling too slow (apart from the odd day when he wants a blast).

The rain was imminent when we arrived at camp. All three of use rushed to pitch our tents, and selected under some trees. The logic being that the trees would protect us from the rain. Indeed the rain came, our tents were up just in time. I had left my bag in the back of the truck, so I hid out in there and visited the villager with the water and bucket for the bucket shower. It is impossible to wash anything properly this week. I have resorted to rinsing the worst of my clothing in the bucket after my wash...but you have to choose carefully as it won't dry either. Not only does wearing my waterproof jacket keep my dry, it keeps my riding clothes cleaner - as it protects against the mud spray from the wheel. When I returned from my bucket shower I found that alot of the boys who had arrived around the same time had washed themselves under the water running off the truck. Saved themselves 1000 shillings (50cents).

When the rain subsided we all set out cleaning the mud and grit out of our drivetrains, so are our bikes would be rideable tomorrow - well at least for the first 5km.

The dirt has really taken it's toll on our poor bikes. I feel so bad for her groaning away, and being pushed hard by the conditions.

As the riding has taken a while over the last few days, dinner and rider meeting have been moved back from 5pm to 6pm. Some riders are still only just rolling in at 5,30. A long day in the saddle. Full of respect for them. Tonight we were camped on a busy school playing field, but the kids were very friendly.

We were clearly the entertainment, I had about 30 accompany for the 5 minute walk to the toilet (yes, it really is 5 minutes there and 5minutes back in the middle of the night, in the rain).

After dinner the weather began to close it and there was mass preparation for the storm.

Chairs packed away, ust in case toilet visits and pegging down of tents. I had some battery left on my laptop so hid in the truck with Jenna, Steph and Tallis joined us, to watch a movie. At about 8.30 we did have to retire to our tents, after the movie. Still raining. I succumbed to the Snickers Don had given me a few days ago, and made my camp bed up so I wasn't sleeping on the ground tonight. The logic being that it will keep my sleeping bag drier overnight. Sleeping on the groundsheet when it's raining seems to leave my sleeping bag damp in the morning. It worked, and I actually slept pretty well.

Thurs 15th March; Dirt Day 3, Biti Manyanga School to Makongolosi

Wet night. Still raining in the morning. Woke at 4.45 to give myself some more time to pack away everything in the wet. Did NOT want to cycle. Don't care about EFI (cycling Every F'ing Inch possible). Don't want to be wet. It's going to be muddy. Visions of deep mud patches like yesterday, but the whole way. Having to walk. Getting to camp and it's still wet. Tent wet. No opportunity to dry. Clothes wet and muddy and need to wear them again tomorrow. Just not fun. Normally I can motivate myself by reminding myself how bad I will feel at the end of the day, when I have done nothing but sat on the bus, but today I really did believe I would be just as happy reading, clean and dry, in the dog box of the truck.

I managed to coax myself along. I packed my bag so I had the option of getting changed at the last minute. Kindle on top, comfortable clothes on top. Slowly I put away the camp bed, the sleeping bag, the normal hygiene and contact lenses routine, take down and pack the inner tent (which happened to be covered in ants underneath...great). Finally I had to get out and make the long trek to the hole in the ground, surrounded by bricks...aka toilet. As toilets go this one was actually pretty nice. It was clean, and dry and had water to 'flush' it with. I hid in there out of the rain for longer than necessary. On the way back to the camp I managed to step straight into a massive puddle, that should have been a lake with crocodiles in. I consoled myself by echoing relief that i was in flip-flops, not shoes...although my cycling shoes are so wet anyway!

I complained to Alistair in passing, at breakfast, and told him I was considering not cycling. He simply said 'No, you;re not sitting in the dog box. You'll cycle today. ' Simple as that. Stop being silly and get on with it, lighthearted manner. I managed to hold back on the chocolate spread, but did consume a 'mocha' with drinking chocolate. As a group we are getting through a whole jar of drinking chocolate in less than 24hours. I hear some people are even eating the powder straight, not as a drink. We get no sweet after dinner, and I think the drinking chocolate may have become a substitute for some.

The day was picking up. Alistair was right. And Tom offered me a hotspot so I emailed Nan to say happy belated birthday. I also had a look on booking.com to see if i could reserve a room at Mbeya Hotel (the camp we were making), but they were all sold out. :(

We all set off together, the Party Bus. Neal was nearby too, poor Marty had a puncture and left camp last and an hour after he would normally go. Initally we were blessed with good packed dirt again. But it morphed into a river of sand within 2km, flanked by trees. There were tracks in the sand where the water had been running. I was glad we weren't trying to cycle it in torrential rain. Pretty much everyone took a tumble in the sand - Jenna had three falls, I had one, David and Alistair as well. Jenna's tyres are a bit smaller - 35's, I am on 40's - i think this was why she fell behind a bit. David and Alistair broke away too. I quite enjoy the sand, it is technique - like the mud, and is more interesting the straight,flat roads, which favours the big and powerful people. Some sections were too deep for most of use to cycle, but these were short and few and far between.

Most of the morning was spent cycling casually but with purpose, with Steve and Alistair. Given how I felt when waking up, it was really enjoying the relaxed morning. And the road. Some nice rolling downhills, and the dirt smooth enough to enjoy them. The only problem was my lack of brakes. Most people wore their brake pads on the dirt, the increased friction and the dirt on the disc rotors had worn the pads down. I had decided not to tighten mine, as I thought that would just accelerate to wear today. At one point I was steaming downhill, and saw a stream/rut at the bottom. I desperately squeezed the levers, they were on full and i was getting hand cramp. There was a marginal decrease in speed. I was bracing myself for the rut. The rut was followed by multiple pot holes. It was going to be bumpy. I hit the rut, both my cleats ejected and my bum left the saddle. I thought it was game over, flying over the handlebars into the bush. I don't know how I pulled it off but I reseated and clipped back in and managed to survive to the other side! What a relief. I did then stop and tighten my brakes. Lesson learnt. Sorry Jordan, I should have listened when you said 'Brakes are there to preserve you, they aren't a bit of kit you try and preserve.'.

We made lunch after a few hours. 65km. A really nice spot in the trees.

The sky was blue, the sun was out, and the temperature was moderate. And there was phone signal for the first time in days. It's nice to be connected, but I was feeling weirdly disappointed about our reintegration into society. The roads were getting busier, and the population increasing also.

There was more sand after lunch.

Steve's derailleur hanger snapped, and it was game over for him. I messaged Tallis and told him Steve would be catching a ride with a passing truck, but Tallis said he would drive the 50km back and collect him! None of us expected that...maybe he was avoiding something at camp. Steve took it really well. He is Sophie's dad, and joined us just for a section. He was obviously disappointed that he wouldn't be cycling the rest of the day, but unlike the full tour riders he didn't seem to feel the same drive to cycle every day and all the way. This EFI is an increasing presence, the longer the tour goes and, and the further people manage to cycle without taking a day/afternoon/morning off.

We stopped for coke about 15km before camp. David's mood had deteriorated over the afternoon (we picked him up at lunch) and to make matters worse, he got stuck talking to a local while trying to enjoy a quite coke.

The last 15km to camp became a rush. 5km was nice and easy, the road was opening up and there were some nice vistas. Cows began to make an appearance.

We ran into one herd, with a lone cow about 100m behind the rest. She was panicking about having been left behind with these approaching cyclists. In her flighty-ness she ran straight towards Neal who baled, couldn't get his cleat out and threw himself to the floor.

He has a bit of a track record now of being accident prone. i have awarded him the CalamityJane award - numerous bike crashes, an infected finger, slicing his hand in a moving ceiling fan, falling off a scooter....there are probably more.

In the increasingly familiar pattern, the weather began to close in. We picked up our pace. The road deteriorated to a rocky and bouncy mess. We pushed it to camp, racing the storm. I was getting tired, and when I am tired I become tearful. We made it before the rain. But Jenna and I both needed a post ride hug.

This camp was on another soccer pitch. With a mountain of people, and a very loud commentary on the soccer game too. Not ideal.

Tent pitched, not under a tree this time. The post ride camp routine underway. Now for bucket shower. Hang out things to dry/air. Soup/coffee. Clean drivetrain on bike. Steph and I even had time to walk up the hill where I found apples. When I returned Jordan had sorted my brakes without me even asking him to look at them! Just as eel I had bought him a beer in town.

Riders looked pretty tired today. Alex had an issue with her tyre and had to borrow a bike. Marty had a bad fall, and got pretty dehydrated as he pushed hard to try and catch up with the group. The dirt is taking it's toll. One day left to Mbeya...35km on dirt and then it's tarmac.