Ethiopian Bike Ride Challenge 2006
Diary extracts...
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Ethiopia
Last summer I felt like a bit of a change. I was thinking about quitting my job and wanted a challenge. When my sister Sarah suggested I sign up for a 350km cycle ride across Ethiopia to raise money for Maternity Worldwide, I hesitated. Like many, I pictured parched land and the images from Live Aid, but in many ways, it was quite a different story.
We landed in Addis Ababa in torrential rain. The city bustled with minivans ferrying people around, markets selling fresh produce and Chinese imports (stall holders shout 'medichine!' – by which they mean 'made in China', a selling feature), men shining shoes, and people herding animals.
After a couple of days acclimatising (Addis is at 2400m), we were off.
We drove out of town and unloaded our bikes, looking at the undulating, roughly sealed roads ahead. We headed west through the Oromia region, cycling around 60km a day through stunning lush landscapes dotted with Eucalyptus trees hiding Vervet monkeys. Sometimes we could almost have been at home, with cattle grazing on patchwork hillsides in the distance. Teff, the main cereal crop, looks like long pale grass shining beautifully in the sunlight. It makes Injera, a large sour pancake on which meat and vegetables are served and eaten by hand.
After 6 days of cycling we arrived at Gimbie at sunset. Prayers were being broadcast from the mosque and we were greeted by people lining the streets.
Having wanted to do some kind of personal challenge, I found a beautiful country which I would encourage anyone to visit. It was a privilege to be there.
Lucy Handley, Cyclist 2007.
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The Rhythm of the Bike
Turning out from the confines of the hotel in Ambo into the busy street is akin to breaking from calm still waters into a burbling river. Our throng of cyclists gently gaining speed down the hill forms the main current, whist darts of colour in the form of wildly excited children daringly hop, skip and cartwheel alongside and in amongst us, forming the eddies and waves as they avoid downstream obstacles and pot holes. After a mile or so even the fittest of this Nation of runners, panting but exuberant, is unable to keep pace, and so our pellion passes out of town alone, into the calmer wider reaches below.
After a day or two we settle down into a comfortable rhythm of life - paradoxically a luxury that only 'living simply' seems to provide. Leisurely reveille at 7, porridge and pancakes at 8, break-camp at 9. Legs grumble and ache for the first 15 minutes before finding their pace. In this phase for those of us with an antipathy to mornings it is good to sit near the back of the group and be swept along until the body reawakens. Our group mingles through the course of the day, and it is fun to alternately drift to the back to join some of the gang who madly wave and chatter, or occasionally even do the odd 'hill sprint' to hug the front vehicle. Meanwhile, Steve and Carl protectively encircle their flock, one minute up at the front and the next minute cycling back down the hills (mad fools!) to join the rear guard or fix a wounded bicycle. At each of the frequent stops our wonderful support crew leap out of the vehicles to ply us with water, sweet white bread, bananas, nuts and encouragement in abundance. By 10 it is really hot, and the hour after lunch is a struggle. However seemingly remote our stops, within a few minutes hosts of children emerge from nowhere. There is mutual fascination, and we are quite unabashed to stop and stare at each other. By 4pm we have generally reached our camp, hidden away in the grounds of a compound, and busy ourselves with putting up the tents or holding up bags of water for each other for a dousing down, before supper and camp fire.
Annabel Nickol, Cyclist 2007
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