Cyclist Diaries
Find out what it's like to take to the road with Maternity Worldwide.
Ethiopia diary 2006
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 which 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.
Ethiopia Diary 2007
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 before supper and camp fire.
Annabel Nickol, Cyclist 2007
