Commuterville.
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But with a good camera!
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Do we go? Do we stop?
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Leonardo DiCaprio is probably running around these streets somewhere.
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They look really good.
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Shah for government? Why not!
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...is that I'm able to ride my bike again! I've been for a short ride up and down the street. The bad news is that my knee still hurts like crazy. I'm hoping at least that it's going to heal itself with time because it has got a lot better since that fateful Wednesday morning.

In any case, I think my dreams of running my first marathon next year have probably been dashed, which is a shame. It's definitely still on the list for sometime soon though, should my knee permit.

I returned to work a week and a half ago which was, as many people warned, probably a bit too soon. It was immensely tiring for a week and come 7pm, I'd be pretty much wiped and unable to hold an intelligent conversation. Still, I survived and it let me get out of house! The dizziness has mostly gone away unless I lie on the left side of my head, which is a little worrying.

Anyway, enough medical offloading. I've started planning the replacement to the late Woodrup that was lost in the crash. Since that was pretty much my around town bike, I've decided to replacement it with the quintessential town bike: a fixed gear bike! None of the off the shelf bikes are sufficiently unique for me, so I'm going to be attempting to assemble a new bike from scratch.

This is what I've decided so far-
Frame: On-One Pompino
Fork: Surly Crosscheck (this was the fork I took to Africa)
Hub: Shimano XT Disc Hub
Cog: VeloSolo Disc Cog
As for wheels, that's to be decided but I'm probably going to get something ridiculously bright.

That's it for today, more as I decide it!

I've just arrived at the end of a relatively eventful week! No doubt if you've been following me on Facebook or Twitter, you'll already know what events I'm talking about.

Wednesday morning, running ten minutes late for work (late by my own standards more than actually being late), I was sprinting down St. Albans road between my house and Watford Junction where I park my bike on the way to work. Normally the traffic moves so slowly that it's safe enough without a helmet and it's barely 1.5 miles from door to door. This Wednesday morning however, as I later found out, a bus driver decided to headlight flash a Ford Ka coming the other way who was waiting to turn right. The Ford Ka didn't see me coming up the inside of the bus and took the corner - and the split second following, I have a very distinct memory of embracing the bonnet of the car with a lot of force at about 20 MPH. (If you want to see the actual junction on Streetview, check it out here.)

I don't remember much of what happened shortly afterwards so I'm just going to list what I've pieced together in some sort of approximate order-
1) Very many pedestrians helped me pick myself and my bike up off the road.
2) Several people called ambulances (in fact I think there were three ambulances and two police cars).
3) Supposedly my first reaction (undoubtedly one of shock) was to immediately start sending a message on my phone...
4) I started losing it as soon as I got into the ambulance. I couldn't remember my name, my address or my phone number. I had no idea who the current prime minister was and I thought I was late for school.
5) The ambulance took me to hospital at 9am.
6) Somehow the paramedics managed to call my sister and when I came to at the hospital, my sister and mother were by my side.
7) A CT scan, diagnosed concussion and four stitches later, I was slowly recovering. They kept me for a couple of hours to observe me and sent me on my way home at about 3pm.
(Fans of Geek on a Bicycle will be astounded that my shoulder didn't dislocate. I can reveal that it is a little sore but is very much where it should be!)

There is a picture of a broken me and my broken bicycle here.

As part of standard recovery, I'm housebound for a while - and won't be returning to work until Monday. I'm not supposed to drive for a couple of weeks and no sport for at least that long too. Whilst I can't say that I would have escaped without an injury if I had been wearing a helmet, it would certainly have lessened the impact of the concussion... I'm pretty certain the stitches on my face and general road rash all over my shoulders, arms and legs would still have been there. Lesson learnt though - I will be wearing my helmet forevermore, even if it is a slight inconvenience.

After four weeks of delays (mainly caused by the range of weather from abysmal to mediocre) and many months of me forgetting to book, I finally managed to capitalise upon an eagerly anticipated birthday present from my other half - a microlight flight experience!

For the last four years at school I was involved in our school's Combined Cadet Force (CCF) in the RAF section and as part of that, won a gliding scholarship where we learnt how to fly motorized gliders over a four day course. At the end of it, I successfully soloed the glider. In addition to this, for my sixteenth birthday, I started going for flying lessons and solo-ed a Piper Aviation PA-28. Unfortunately budget constraints prevented me from getting my private's pilot's license but it's definitely on my life 'to-do' list.

These were both completely unlike the experience of flying in a flex-wing microlight. The closest analogy I can think of is that of riding a motorcycle versus riding in a car. One is so completely raw and exposed and the other is relatively comfortable. You sit within three feet of the engine and you can see just about every component of the plane that matters. When you're on the ground, you're barely a couple of feet above the ground and it's very obvious that there's not much separating you from being shredded by the tarmac - no safety net.

I exercised my voucher with microlight school Clearprop at the Blackbushe Airport in Surrey. It took a few attempts to actually get flying - this sort of vehicle is very weather-dependent (and especially wind-dependent).

As for the actual experience, after a short briefing, we took off in what seemed like mere metres. All it took was a gentle push forwards on the bar and we were up in the air. In some sense, the control system, although different from most fixed wing aircraft (no joystick or yoke), is more natural - it's directly connected to the wing. This is called weight-shift because the action of manipulating the centre of gravity shifts the wing itself and this causes you to turn. There is no rudder so yawing is non existent. This makes flying in windy situations difficult.

Turning is much more physical (or feels that way) than most fixed wing aircraft too - requiring you to pull down on one side of the bar. This felt quite unnerving for me too, having dislocated my shoulder several times before - in the brief period between having my hands on my lap and holding the bar, there was a substantial amount of pressure on my arm from the wind. Luckily it stayed in its socket and I managed to approximately steer the aircraft in the right direction.

As for landing, this was a terrifying experience. There's no safety (as psychological as it might be) of having a big shock absorbing undercarriage underneath. As we came down to land, my eyes grew to the size of lightbulbs as we rapidly approached the ground.

An epic experience and one of the best birthday presents I've ever received. I'm definitely considering picking up the lessons again this next year.

Photos on GeekOnABicycle.

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So after a (very) long hiatus, I decided to cycle into work again on Monday, cycling from Watford to Old Street. This is not an inconsiderable distance but compared to my summer internship commute to Canary Wharf from Watford (26 miles each way), it's easier at just 21 miles. Sunday evening was, as always, a series of minor and major procrastinations where, although I was meant to be getting my bike ready for the journey in, I decided to go visit friends, listen to music, watch television and tidy my room.

Waking up bleary eyed on Monday morning, I somehow convinced myself that today was going to be the day I cycle in (the first time is always the hardest - both from a logistical and a psychological point of view). In my pyjamas, I started rummaging around my 'box of bits' in our garden shed looking for my sturdy pannier rack which went with me from Cairo to Capetown (on my bike for the first four weeks and in my suitcase for the last four months when it became obviously useless). I came out, defeated, with another, much less sturdy pannier rack that attaches to a seat post. This loyal pannier rack was what had taken the load of my school books and uniform when I first started commuting in the fat days.

Grudgingly attaching the pannier rack to my carbon seat post (and ever conscious of the increasing probability of my seat post shearing in two horizontally), I managed to fill my panniers with all sorts of 'necessities' - almost everything I needed except for a hoody which I decided would take up too much space. Walking out onto the road in my cycling Android jersey, a delightful gift from my friend at Google, I realised that short sleeve was perhaps a bit short sighted.

Rolling twenty metres down the road, strange noises already started coming from my bike and when I braked to a halt, there was an unnerving juddering. Investigating further, the pannier rack had already come askew and the edge of one of my pannier bags was rattling against the spokes. This is something I was very used to when commuting to school but it took a small leap of faith that my panniers would make it to work in one piece. As for the juddering, it merely seemed to be alignment of my brakes and in true Kenyan style, I figured it would be fine to get me to work.

Sure enough it was, and really the only difficult I had was that the pannier partially unclipped itself at a couple of points during the journey. The handling of the bike with a seat post mounted rack was quite sketchy - my road bike is much lighter than my mountain bike was and the pannier rack must have moved the centre of gravity much higher. Every time I stood up to cycle, the bike was start oscillating quite wildly.

As I got to work, it became harder and harder to unclip. I realised somewhere near Euston that my left SPD clip was missing a single screw. This meant that when I twisted my foot to unclip, the cleat would stay where it was and just rotate around the single retaining screw. When I finally got to Old Street it took a good five minutes of hopping around on my bike to unclip.

The commute overall was pretty damn slow. I left home at 08:30 (admittedly late) and reached work at 10:10. Normally I leave home at 08:25 and reach work at 09:15 when travelling by train. While the distance was slower, the traffic was pretty horrendous and there was no real clear stretch of road. Part of the reason for the traffic is that I was on Euston road - which skirts the congestion charging zone (and presumably carries a higher volume of traffic after 07:00). The frequent traffic lights also kill average speed - at least the route to Canary Wharf has relatively few interruptions!

In a nutshell, I'm not convinced that commuting to Old Street is worth it for me - I might do it a few times a week because of the fitness element but it certainly doesn't compare to public transport when it comes to convenience. At least not in the same way that commuting to Canary Wharf did.

People who knew me well at university know that for a short while (about a term), I graphed my sleep in order to figure out the relationship that my productivity (and enjoyment of life) has with my sleep levels. Anyone who's studied at Cambridge knows that terms are notoriously irregular - you'll start off with no work and then a week later find yourself trying to finish three sets of supervision work in one night. This makes it almost impossible to have a 'normal' week and to sleep the same amount every night.

When graphed and analysed, I noticed a few interesting facts-
- At that time, I used to sleep in multiples of 1.5 hours - and if I woke up a multiple of 90 minutes after I went to bed, I'd wake up feeling good.
- One day of good sleep often wasn't enough to reset my fatigue levels - I needed three nights of solid sleep to feel at the top of my form. This rarely happened during term.
- Even if I slept for 12/13 hours after an all nighter- it still wasn't enough. All nighters were disastrous for my productivity for the rest of the week.
- Generally 7.5 hours of sleep was good enough if I hadn't been training (i.e. cycling). If I had trained, I would require 9 hours.

This worked well for a few years and I've been tweaking my 'rules' as I go - I know the effects of caffeine and alcohol on my energy levels and try to adjust where I go. The irony is that, lately - mainly since starting work, I don't often get very good sleep. I've always been a light sleeper but generally I've always managed to sleep through the night.

It's been hard to pinpoint the reason and during a routine medical, the blood test revealed my thyroid levels were a bit off. To cut a long story (spread over six months) short - I've been diagnosed as hypothyroid. Standard treatment of hypothyroidism is the synthetic hormone levothyroxine. This is working, but with some annoying side effects. I've been finding it harder still to sleep - waking up in the middle of night regularly. I've also had some sort of headache constantly. Now with enough time, my doctor will probably be able to tweak the dosage so that these can be avoided. But the point being, I can't adequately control my energy levels as I used to, which is most likely now going to be the case for the rest of my life.

The constant process of diagnosis, especially for a condition like this has got me thinking - it must be very difficult to be a doctor indeed. Not purely from the sheer amount of knowledge you need but the feedback loop you have from your patients. Administer some medication, wait six weeks, take a blood test, look at a number and re-evaluate. On one hand it is a straightforward process but on the other - it is slow, prone to error (I was almost misdiagnosed when the wrong blood test results were used) and there's no instant gratification. Software development on the other hand gives you an answer in minutes, occasionally hours and very rarely days. There's no waiting required. And finally - there's always a logical or rational reason for something to happen the way it does. This is not always true in the human body and there's still a large amount of the 'unknown'. The human body is non deterministic.

That, dear readers, is why I'll never be a doctor.

Anyone who knows me well knows that-
1) I love biscuits.
2) I have to drink milk while eating biscuits or cake.

Mid last week I had a (mini) epiphany. I was at my cousin's house for her birthday party and for the first time in an immeasurable amount of time, I had cake without milk. Surprisingly, it was good. I spent much less effort trying to coordinate milk-drinking with cake-eating (it's the same really as the cereal and milk problem - you don't want to have extra milk or extra cereal left at the end...). Only concentrating on the cake meant I was able to really enjoy and appreciate it.

I guess this points to a wider trend in my life - that of multitasking. I'm notorious for doing multiple things at the same time and not just while at work. At home I've got a ridiculous three screened set up (and four if my laptop is up) and normally I'm doing a dozen things at the same time. It's probably because I spent so little actual time at home but I can't help thinking it's detrimental to the quality of how well I accomplish various tasks.

Admittedly a lot of what I do at home doesn't require much intellectual concentration - the last couple of hours I've been editing photos while watching television and catching up on reading - but I worry sometimes that this way of working carries itself over into other parts of my day.

As promised, a slightly more elaborate (or rather, descriptive) update.

As you may or may not have known, I had been working at a large investment bank for the last year since returning from my travels. It's a place where I interned twice and enjoyed enough to want to return to as a graduate - the work was interesting and the people were great.

Without going into full detail, our graduate scheme requires us to complete several six month rotations before choosing a team to permanently settle in. The incentive structure for the process of picking placements at each stage is maligned and essentially I had a poor first rotation placement (great people, dull work, learnt very little) and as a result didn't get my top preference for the second rotation team. I enjoyed my second rotation team but it wasn't somewhere I wanted to stay permanently - the work was semi-interesting but there was very little support from the team, purely as a result of it's small size.

Our graduate scheme was shortened to just two rotations and beginning in August, we began the process to choose a team to settle in. I found that most of the interesting teams either already had a graduate in mind (someone who had previously been on that team) or that I didn't have the requisite skill set (when competing against other graduates). Suspecting that this might be the case, as soon as we heard news of this change, I fired off my C.V. in an email to popular music recommendation website - http://last.fm.

Roll around to mid September and for the most part, it was exactly as I had guessed. I'd gone through the interview process at last.fm and with an offer in hand, I spoke to our graduate HR who, unfortunately, weren't willing to offer any other choices. With some trepidation I sent in my notice of resignation.

Quite a few people tried to convince me before I left the bank that I'd hate it outside of finance - they were shocked that I was even considering leaving investment banking and they thought I'd get bored. Naturally these fears played heavily on my mind in the four weeks preceding my new job. Luckily it was more FUD than actual insight.

I've been working at last.fm for a week now and it's great. The people here are wonderful - very helpful, friendly and they know their stuff. There are fewer politics than at the bank and I find it a much more productive place to work. There's no bureaucracy blocking me from doing my job, I have a fast computer and access to whatever developer tools I want to use. In addition, there are fewer distractions throughout the day, no pointless meetings and no constant interruptions. We get to use cutting edge technologies too, versus the cutting edge of three years ago at the bank. As a technologist, I feel more at home here than I ever did as a graduate at a bank.

To sum it up, the first question most people working at the bank asked me when I said I was leaving was 'how much are you getting paid at the new place?'.
The first question that most people working at last.fm asked me when I mentioned I used to work at the bank was 'what were you working on?'.
I'm happy to be a part of the second group :-).

Dear readers,

I apologise for the lack of updates over the many past months. I've been rather busy with a variety of things and that seems likely to continue. However, my life is about to undergo a relatively significant change and with that change, I've decided to get my house in order (quite literally as well as metaphorically).

I'll go into more detail in a following post but the short story is that I've decided to leave my first real job for a variety of reasons. As you can imagine, this is quite a terrifying step to take but ultimately, I hope, one for the better.

More detail soon, but it's good to be back and I hope to be writing more frequently :-). I'll also be updating this site so that it's a bit less 2010 and a bit more NOW().

A stunning drive.
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We came across this beautiful view from the bridge.
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Leaving nothing but the wake and our tourist money behind us.
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Under angry clouds.
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Rickety wooden bridges and camera toting tourists.
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Look out for the orcas.
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And an oil tanker.
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Twilight incoming.
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One day we'll swim across the dock.
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Like a giant Warhammer table.
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We're in Mombasa at the moment, my last taste of Africa for 2010 (and my first, briefly, of 2011). Nothing has really changed here - it's the same hotel we've been to twice before and the same beach we've visited four times in the last five years. I'm pretty certain that of all the holiday destinations in the world, returning here, to the same place, ranks fairly low on my list.

This lacklustre holiday which, family time aside, feels like a little bit of a waste of time seems typical of my life in general at the moment. I've started as a graduate at a large investment bank (where I interned twice) and absolutely detest the work I am doing at the moment. It's a short first rotation (just two months left) but I wonder if the next will be any better.

The problem I have with this work is not that there's too much of (that's absolutely fine, I have no problem working an 80 hour week if the work merits it) but that it is so incredibly dull and not necessarily that useful in the business sense either. Without going into too much detail, essentially I'm adding missing pieces of functionality to an application to abate pressure caused by internal politics. The functionality (and generally the application itself) isn't complicated, rather just tedious. The tedium of actual development is compounded by the extensive QA process that surrounds any change to the application and while the majority of my changes are new, affect a minority amongst the 3,000 users we have and might only even be used by support - I still spend 60% of my time doing QA tasks.

It feels like I'm wasting my time - this is the time when I can really give it everything but lack motivation to do so. I've barely learnt anything new though in the last three months besides how to use various systems and how to produce QA documentation to satisfy the regulators. This causes a sinking feeling in my stomach every time I talk to (some of) the other graduates and they tell me how much they're learning. I recall my internship where I learnt a huge amount - both of software development and the business need that necessitated our work.

So instead of stagnation, it's almost like recessing. My hire-ability is sinking each week that I learn nothing and forget a little bit more all that I learnt during my Computer Science degree. As my hire-ability sinks, it becomes harder to jump ship, to break out of the circle and to get back onto the true road of career fulfillment. I will not go down without a fight though - my eyes are open and actively scanning for opportunities.

And finally, I'm not the only one - this is a common theme amongst quite a few of my graduate colleagues. My faith in the HR department has been shaken by their failure to place the brightest graduates (who they apparently go to great lengths to hire) in positions which they will enjoy and where they will have their capabilities pushed. Sure, it's not a problem on their side - they often mention how many applicants they get - it is easy to fill our positions as graduates (we should be lucky to be where we are, of course!) but they need to treat us better. It seems that we're regarded and treated as merely numbers - without recognition of the fact that we have different desires, skill levels and ambitions.

This is going to cause two problems: 1) the brightest students will no longer flock to work here in the way they have done (the economic crisis of 2007/8 has already gone a long way to reducing the number of students who are chasing a career in finance) - graduates talk (and I have been talking too) to their peers in the years below and 2) the brightest graduates will leave - several of my colleagues are pursuing potential opportunities elsewhere.

Mmm.
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Could sit and stare into this for hours.
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Technically we weren't supposed to be here. But who cares.
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Familiarity, they say, breeds boredom. One of the previous TDA riders who I spoke to mentioned that it was a good idea to take some time off after the Tour in order to reflect over the fact that you've just traversed an entire continent. My plans worked out so that I had one final summer, a final period of 'nothingness', reminescent of the summers of my teens years (from the age of 16 I've been working every summer). I wondered how this would go down, whether it would be the productive playground I've always dreamt about, while studying or interning - experimenting with my computer or riding my bike lots. However, after the initial momentum of returning home had subsided, nothing really happened. Home is familiar and hence boring.

Somehow the days seemed to be filled with apparently meaningless tasks and my attempts to kill the lazy man within (sometimes it's hard to get motivated just to leave the house) are failing. My 'ToDo' list hasn't shrunk much and I'm rapidly running out of time. Life at home is lonely - many of my friends are either now wrapped up with work or are travelling, others are just impossible to get hold of. Our attempts at finding a flat in Central London is frustrating - both budget constraints and indecisiveness regarding location make it impossible to settle. In addition, being unable to coordinate with all members makes it tougher still, especially when you run the risk of making an unpopular decision.

I suppose my idea of utopia would involve some kind of shared consciousness where communication with other entities (or people) would be instantaneous and irrevocable. Knowledge would be uniformly shared or available when needed. One of my role models at school, a fellow (but far cleverer) Computer Scientist, always used to say something like 'you'll never get anything done depending on other people'. A true enough statement but with the contraints of finite time and resources, a team is a worthy asset if you aspire to anything great.

I despair too for the beginning of my 'career' in just a few weeks time. Does this seem like the beginning of the end? Oh yes. Meeting with my friends who've already started work is always fun (of course) but sometimes you can see through all the superficial conversation. I've met just one former classmate who seemed truly excited by the work he does. These are not your average graduates working 9 to 5 either, they have prestigious positions at well paying institutions. That leads to me to wonder where I'll end up next - I've always been aware that this was probably only a temporary position. I enjoyed the work and the people are great but there's just a handful of possible teams where I'd like to be placed. Regardless, it's the next step and I will try hard to keep the exciteable inner geek alive.

The summer is looking up now, so it's not all bad. The BBC Proms are on my calendar and my first mountain bike race for over a year (which could be disastrous). More of my flatmates will reachable to help the search for accommodation. Previously uncontactable friends have suddenly reappeared on the North London social radar. Some of the TDAers will be in London this weekend too. Until the singularity arrives and we become one superior consciousness, Facebook, email, text messages and the occasional terribly-awkward phone call with have to suffice.

(Written on my way back home from Kenya. My fifth and penultimate visit to the motherland this year.)

Undoubtedly the best thing about the Tour D'Afrique is that you're travelling for four months with sixty like minded people from all parts of the world who do and have done all sorts of crazy things in their lives. As Steph commented early on, every rider is a type 'A' personality - extravert, outgoing and slightly off the wall.

One thing I've taken away from the Tour is that age doesn't really matter in the scheme of things. Riders' spanned all ages and generally got on well with each other.

There are a few main groups of riders, and obviously, like any attempt to categorise the natural world, it's an imperfect reflection of reality. Some riders fall into more than one group but for the sake of simplicty, I've omitted the rider-group matrix for now. I've borrowed some of the groups from Leah's article on the Tour D'Afrique. I haven't included everyone in here - not because some people are more interesting than others but a lack of motivation.

The Racers

Bearded Australian
Riding one of the strangest bikes on the tour (but probably the perfect choice) in a questionable off-yellow colour, he also sported one of the most epic beards of the trip (which seemingly did nothing to slow him down).

Windbreaker
WIth an enviable chest span, riding in a paceline with rider made life much easier.

Powerhouse
One of the shortest riders, riding one of the heaviest bikes and also damn quick!

Mr. & Mrs. Organised
Possibly the best prepared two riders and the most harmonious couple on the trip. Always helpful and quick too.

Mountain Biker
Another Brit and a superb technical cyclist, riding a Stumpjumper.

Mr. Motivation
Using the Tour to train for an even more ridiculous cycling event, he would often ride double the daily distance by reaching camp, turning around and continuing.

Business Class

Business class were a group of middle aged riders who have a taste for the finer things in life. They were suspected many a time of having more lockers than the mandatory standard allocation.

Younglings

(All riders younger than me.)

The Promise
At this stage in his journey, he was a hardened traveller and was always happy to share his expertise. A fast rider on a heavy bike, he struggled to race consistently but eventually got his stage victory. Superb photographer too.

Jack Of Many Trades
An entrepeneurial rider(?) who took to hitchhiking each day in lieu of riding, he found several innovative ways to make a bit of extra money.

Smiley
Possibly the most optimistic rider ever, never once seen without a smile on her face.

North Americans

Loud Cannuck
Stereotypical loud American and for a lot of the early part of the trip, the voice that would resonate through my thin tent walls and wake me up early in the morning.

The Former Army Engineer
Also a loud Canadian.

Vegan Dan
The only vegan rider and possibly one of the most dedicated riders, regularly rolling into camp late into the day. Always breaking spokes.

The Bike Messenger
A New York City bike messenger with a taste for punk rock. Owner of the infamous beard hat.

Artist
The designer of my tattoo and an unbelievable sketch artist, this guy tracked a package for half the trip only not to receive it.

Twentysomethings

Ms. Marathon
Holding a world record for running marathons, she was one of two riders crazy enough to run on rest days (as if the cycling wasn't exercise enough).

Livestrong
Passing out yellow Livestrong wristbands across Africa, a first time cyclist with the coolest green rims on the tour.

Token Irish Guy
Sporting cycling lycra of questionable modesty, a first time cyclist.

German
Ruthlessly efficient and one of the few riders with both matching and colour coded duffle bags.

I'm a bit worried that I'm in the wrong place - this is supposed to be the gate for the British Airways flight from Bologna to London Gatewick but there is no one else here. The Aerobus broke down on the way to airport and there were some amusing acts of Italian rage as fellow passengers saw the next Aerobus drive straight past us. Arriving at the airport, I rushed to the very busy checkin counter and managed to bypass the queue because I had checked in online. When going through security, lady looked at my boarding pass and said 'London this way, directing me to an empty queue - the only empty queue out of many full queues.

The only difference appeared to be the addition of an explosives scanner which, predictably, found nothing. Wandering around duty free, I struggled to find any genuine Italian coffee to gift my mother - a lifelong coffee addict (and hence coffee snob). Whether this Segafredo brand raw coffee from Costa Rica will be up to her taste, I am not sure. Quite whether it will even work in her fancy coffee machine is another matter.

My brief visit to Bologna was spurred by both growing boredom and restlessness at home (four years of summer jobs have rendered my ability to enjoy largely vacant periods of time null) and a desire to meet up with a TDA rider who I became good friends with before he unfortunately crashed out of the Tour on our second day in Ethiopia.

This was my second visit to Italy - my first being a school trip to the Lake Guardia region. Bologna is considerably older than much of what I recall of the last trip and I enjoyed the architecture. A student filled city, there was graffiti covering a lot of the area. While the vast majority of this was crass and unimaginative, there were some witty legitimate attempts at making a pictorial statement.

The city itself varies from being clean to dirty (although any traveller who has visited India will rejoice at the cleanliness). Walking the covered arcades that line the streets is fraught with danger from weaving cyclists. I was amused to see a girl on a bicycle trying to navigate a narrow gap between a row of tables and a shop front while eating a gelato with one hand and steering cum balancing with the other. Another danger is produced by the city's large dog populations and their careless owners - you can be as diligent as possible but will still dirty your shoes.

Moving onto more gastronomical and delicious matters, most people of the world are familiar with Italian food. Whatever you thought was good Italian food outside of Italy is easily matched by the cheapest street level pizzeria and for a meager €3, a margharita worth of happiness can be yours. Pasta is similarly wonderful although Vegetarians should be sure to question their assumptions when ordering about what most filled pasta actually contains.

The gelato is also a favourite of mine and, in the baking summer temperatures nearing 40° C, was the perfect treat (to be offset by about 12 hours of heavy cardio-although I wondered how all the patrons of
the parlour were so skinny). A final mention of the food, my host was insistent that I try the coffee. Apparently it is in another league to what is normally served as an espresso. Indeed it is that jolt of caffeine which is fuelling this literary burst and I can confirm that while most coffee irks me tremendously, this was at least drinkable (with a reasonable addition of sugar). The accompanying 'pasta', known to English speakers as a pastry, was much more palatable - imagine a croissant filled with Nutella in one half and custard on the other.

As a tourist, there is a fair amount to see. We followed one of the excellently presented walking tours courtesy of Tourist Information. The museum of modern art (mambo) was quite interesting, as were several churches. Most museums are usually free to visit but you may need to pay for special
exhibitions.

On Saturday evening, we saw an Italian-subtitled American movie in a giant open air cinema in the main piazza of the city. While the movie itself (a 35 year old film called Nashville) seemed to lack a story line, the atmosphere was quite amazing - the piazza was packed full of thousands of people. Confused by the movie's lack of plot and aching from the brittle and unsympathetic chairs, we left early. Hopefully Google will be able to help us figure out the true intent of the movie.

On Sunday we took a state bus on a whim and travelled some distance out of the city to experience the rolling countryside hills. My host, a big road cyclist, related his stories of climbing the hills at just over 6kmph. He is a superb climber too so I imagine that I would most likely be walking.

That evening we watched the first half of the World Cup final in a packed Irish pub just off the main piazza. An overwhelming bias towards the Spanish side was obvious, for reasons I am unaware of. This was the first football match my host was watching and as he tried to work out the offside rule, he was quite amused at the ridiculous showboating of the world class soccer players. After play paused for half time, we went home to rehydrate ourselves via the local gelateria.

Despite trying our hardest to stream the football via the neighbour's wireless connection, we failed and thus I can maintain my achievement of not having watched the entire of a single world cup 2010 match.
Once I land back home, I will thankfully be reconnected to the world (my new mobile phone contract was annoyingly not enabled for roaming, leading to an interesting experience trying to contact my friend on arrival by first trying and failing to use a public payphone and then asking strangers nearby to use their mobile phones).

(The above post was written entirely on a touch screen keyboard. Intense.)

(View in high res)

Apologies for the delay in posting this. I have no real excuse, being currently unemployed and not having much else to do!

I will add to and amend this post if I think of anything further.

Equipment Recommendations
Although the packing space you have is limited, it is worth bringing spares of just about everything. Even if you don't need it over the course of the trip, there is a good chance another rider will.
Besides the spares listed on the Equipment page, the following bike items failed and I had not brought spares of:
- GPS unit (failed when I landed on it by accident - preventable and also not entirely necessary.)

- Cycle computer (failed in the rain. Vital item, bring two! Cheap ones are fine.)

- Jockey wheels (several riders had worn out their previously new jockey wheels by the end of the trip. Bring spares for sure.)

- Pedals (either bring new ones from the start or bring spares.)

- Bottle cages + bottles (I went through 5 bottle cages! Bring a couple of spares. A spare set of bottles is useful too - they tend to fall out.)

- Worth bringing two spare chains and a spare cassette. Also bring a few Powerlinks (or equivalent) - useful for repairing your chain on the road.

- I wouldn't bother bringing more than two sets of spare brake pads (for v-brakes; riders with disc brakes wore through their pads quicker) - I used the same set of Kool Stops for the whole trip.

- Bring a tonne of tubes and enough for all sizes of tyre that you have. Don't bring Schwalbe tubes - all of mine failed at the valve and were unrepairable. (Be wary of using the 'bad' TDA pump - probably replaced by now but the bad pump killed all of my early tubes.)

- Bring a decent pump for use on the road. Don't bother bringing a tiny pump for the sake of saving weight - if you're trying to race then spending an hour pumping up your tyre will outweight any time gain from saving a hundred grams!

Tent-
Bring a tent that has two doors. My tent had one door and it was a pain when that one door's zip failed. If buying a tent in England, I would recommend against a Terra Nova tent - their customer service charged me to repair my under warranty tent on return. It's also worth bringing a roomier tent if you can manage it - you'll appreciate the extra room a three man tent offers after a few months on the road!

Sleeping Mat-
Several riders had UltraLite Cots. I borrowed one for a night and it was quite comfortable but unless you have back problems or absolutely can't sleep on a normal sleeping mat, I don't think it's worth the space lost in both your tent and your locker. A normal Thermarest mat is adequate. Some people punctured their Thermarests but if you use a decent quality tarp or groundsheet, you should survive. (You could also bring a foam sleeping roll but again it takes extra space.)

Sleeping Bag-
This was the largest single item in my bag. Worth bringing a smaller bag - you don't need the warmest bag ever - a two season bag should be fine. (On colder nights you might need to layer up.)

Recovery Drink-
As I posted before in my blog about being vegetarian on the Tour, it's worth bringing recovery drink. This probably applies to non-vegetarians too.

Bicycle
A lot of thought went into the bike that I rode but there are still a few things worth changing.

Bike Fit
Get fitted to your bike before you buy it. It's worth the expense. Most bike fitters will be able to suggest suitable frames / bikes when being fitted. I had no knee or back problems on the trip.

Suspension
BRING SUSPENSION! It'll help you a lot on the unpaved sections and you almost certainly won't regret it. I was unaware that you could buy suspension forks for cyclocross type bikes (with 700c wheels). Find one and fit it. Enough said.

I took a Thudbuster Long Travel seatpost with me but took it off after Sudan. I found it heavy (it made bike handling less agile) and sometimes caused knee pain. The Short Travel version may be preferable. If you have front suspension then it's probably not worth bothering with it at all.

Tyres
I was unaware that the size of my rims dictated the size of tyre I could fit. Bear this in mind - you'll need specific touring rims to fit larger tyres. 29er rims may be preferable. Bring as fat tyres as you can. If you're ordering your own frame, ensure that the rear stay has enough clearance. Generally a larger range is preferable. I think the perfect combination would be:
27c tyres for smooth pavement
35-40c tyres for smooth unpaved
2.0" tyres for rough unpaved or sandy sections

The Schwalbe Marathon Extremes were superb tyres for the unpaved sections and the Marathon Racers excellent for the paved sections (some riders also used and liked the Durano tyres). I didn't have anything bigger than a 35c and just about survived.

Saddle
As readers of this blog will be aware, I had severe saddle issues right from the early part of the tour which continued until the end of the trip. Most other riders had issues too but generally these were only in passing.

I've heard good things about the Brooks saddle I took but ONLY if broken in first. (You need to ride on it for 1,000 kilometres or so to get it fitting nicely. You can also soak it in oil to expedite this process.) The Specialized body geometry saddles work nicely too. Bring a DECENT spare saddle too, which fits well (my spare was the wrong size because I didn't think I'd need to use it.) It's worth having a fair amount of padding too - especially on the rougher roads. Whatever you think about how race worthy a saddle is, it's worth the extra bulk to have a bit of comfort.

Handlebars
If you're bringing drop bars, it's worth having top bar brake levers such as these. You'll enjoy it much more on rough downhills!
STi shifters seemed to be slightly problematic - it's worth steering clear and getting bar end shifters.

Pannier rack/Handlebar bags
Don't bother. You should be able to fit everything you need for the day in your Camelbak. Most riders ditched their pannier racks throughout the trip.

Lastly, regarding your bike- it's worth spending time and money (unfortunately) to make sure you get a steed that fits well, is reliable and has been well thought through.

Preparation Before The Trip
I didn't personally train much before the trip. Training on the bike was impossible so I did some light cardio indoors for a few months. This is not a problem if you are young - and in general the younger riders seemed to recover much quicker. If you're a bit older, it's worth making sure you're fit enough before you start - it'll make the trip much easier on your body.

It's worth getting to grips with your bike. Most maintenance tasks you'll have to perform yourself. Practice patching a few tubes - once you get to Africa, they'll be in limited supply!

On The Trip
Some camping tips which you might find useful:
- Use your laptop/netbook at night. You'll save battery life that way! (Lower screen brightness).

- Put your groundsheet / tarp inside your tent. This will stop water pooling on top of it (as it would if it was underneath your tent). Added bonus of preventing Thermarest puncture.

- Fill up bottles / Camelbak the night before. The morning is always a bit of a rush.

- Put items that you don't need in the morning away in your locker before bed.

- Don't change shoes while loading your locker in the morning. Massive faux-pas.

- Take your dish kit to Rider Meeting. You'll get to the dinner queue quicker :-).

Achieving E.F.I.
Every F**king Inch is an arbitrary status based largely upon luck. The riders who achieved it were fairly fit and incredibly determined. However, a bad crash, extenuating circumstances or any number of things can halt your conquest of Africa in a heartbeat. If you're intent on achieving it, be aware that you need to be a decent cyclist, consistent and cautious. The oldest rider who achieved EFI this year was 45 years old.

On (Those All Important) Electronics
Lastly, a word on electronics. I was quite apprehensive about the charging capabilities available before leaving. While there are periods where there is no electricity for days on end, you'll largely survive as long as you accept you won't be able to use all your gadgets every minute of being awake.

My charging situation was such:
- Netbook, charged whenever there was power. It lasted about 10 hours more or less which was good enough to spend 30 minutes to an hour writing up the day's events and sorting photos each day.
- Mobile phone, you really don't have many people to call - I brought an old Sony Ericsson K750i and any old GSM mobile will suit you fine. A smartphone lacks utility without a data connection which you'll be hardpressed to find. I charged this from my PowerMonkey (a useful rechargeable charger - definitely worth getting. Alternatively, they also do a PowerGorilla, a larger rechargeable charger capable of charging laptops).
- Sansa Fuze, topped up daily from my netbook. This worked superbly and I only ran out of power when I forgot to recharge it the night previous.
- Cameras, battery life was good enough to charge these once weekly on rest days.
- GPS, used borrowed rechargeable AA batteries. Worth bringing several good quality batteries.

I found the solar charger I brought to be useless and many riders struggled to achieve decent charge from their solar charges. I don't think it's worth the expense - I managed on rest day power alone. As you get further south, you start visiting more campsites where it becomes easier to find power sockets to charge from.

It's worth bringing a fair complement of power adaptors - up north they use the round two-pin adaptors, from Kenya onwards they use square three-pin and then from Botswana a strange gigantic round three-pin. (Bringing a four-way is also useful - these can be cheaply picked up in Egypt too. Get one which has multiple types of sockets so you can share / daisy chain with other riders' appliances.)

My netbook worked superbly for the trip - get one with decent battery life. It's worth bringing a flash disk with a Live version of Linux (e.g. Ubuntu Netbook Remix) just in case your hard drive dies. Also worth bringing a decent external hard drive to back up photos (and to share photos at the end of the trip).

If you insist on bringing an iPod, either bring a cheap one (a Shuffle or similar) or bring two. A lot of people had problems with iPods dying or battery life.

Bring a couple of pairs of cheap headphones for use while riding. I went through four pairs of headphones. Possibly bring another decent pair for use in camp (if you're anything of an audiophile).

Bring plenty of Ziploc bags - useful for sealing electronics you carry on your bike!

Bring two cameras - a cheap one to take on the bike and a nicer one for rest days. Alternatively, bring a shockproof camera - these worked very well (they didn't break) but the picture quality isn't so great.

A Word On Safety
Africa is unreasonably regarded as a dangerous place. I felt in no harm at all on the trip. The biggest threat to cyclists is, as always, from passing motor vehicles. In areas with heavy traffic, the Tour organisers made excellent provisions for our safety and organised convoys. Theft is always a concern but being a prudent traveller and generally vigilent will keep your possessions safe. Campsites were fine in general - in areas where locals took elevated interest in us, boundary ropes and local watchmen kept us safe.


If any other Tour riders have any advice please contact me to have this post updated or drop a comment down below. Likewise for anyone with a question!

I sporadically took a variety of short clips while cycling. Coverage isn't complete (I miss a lot of Northern Kenya because of a broken camera and South Africa because of apathy).

Apologies for the sketchy soundtrack.

Just a quick note to say that I'll be on Nairobi's East FM tomorrow morning (Thursday 3rd June) between 8am and 10am local time, talking to presenter Aleem Manji about the trip. If you're in Nairobi, tune into 106.0 FM. If not, you can stream the channel over the internet here.

Update:
A good quality MP3 version of the second part (and majority) of the interview is now up here (4.79MB). An OGG Vorbis version is available here (3.27MB).

When I first planned my year of travel (commonly colloquialised as a gap year), I tried as much as possible to stay clear of any clichéd travel experiences. You know the sort - backpacking in South East Asia, volunteering to build a toilet block whilst teaching English at a local school, travelling in an overland truck, etc. However, the subject of climbing Mount Kilimanjaro came up several times over the last year - we tried to compare it to the trek we had previously done to Everest Base Camp (a similar altitude but longer). When one of my good friends said it was the hardest thing his Dad had ever done, I knew I had to give it a go. Announcing my travel intentions to my father, he decided to come along to - Kilimanjaro being a long time goal of his.

Foolishly, despite travelling the previous four months heavily loaded with electronics, I thought this would be a good, brief, break from my gadget addiction before plunging headlong into a summer of connectivity back home. (In addition, several sources had mentioned that the cold temperature at altitude would rapidly deplete batteries.) I soon realised my error when on the first day of the trek we were sitting around with hours to kill while our guides and tour organiser (at Marangu Hotel in Tanzania) sorted their equipment out. After a painful wait in which we did nothing (my only book was packed deep inside my duffel bag), Desmond, owner and operator of Marangue Hotel, called us for our briefing.

To compound this excursion's cliché factor was our choice of route: the Marangu route. The most luxurious (pre-built huts with 'beds' instead of tents) and shortest way to climb Kilimanjaro, it's often derided as the most touristy of the routes. Both of these factors appealed to us when choosing a route - we lacked sufficient time to do the longer Machame route and were hiking at the end of the rainy season - staying in wet tents was not an appealing thought. Desmond assured us though that the popular attitude to the Marangu route is flawed - perpetrated by a group of tour operators who lack the capability to book the Marangu route (which entails a complicated system of deposits for each hut). The elevation graphs show that while the first few days aren't as steep as other routes, we climb more at higher altitude each day - the hike to the summit is over a kilometre vertically, versus less than half this on the Machame route.

We eventually were driven to the park gate and after a quick lunch, started our first hike up to the first hut: Mandara. It was drizzling lightly as we passed through the muggy rainforest. Ants of all sizes (the largest were over a centimetre in length) crawled the surface of the trail and on several occasions we stopped to slap at our gaiters - having been bitten by freeriding ants. The route was steeper already than most of what we had hiked on the Everest Base Camp trek. We quickly reached the first hut (just a three hour hike, we did this in two and a half hours) - Mandara Hut, at 2700m.

The huts are fairly based but having lived in a waist high tent for four months, I appreciated the option to stand up fully without ripping your domicile to pieces. The huts are 'A-frames', shaped like the letter A so the only place to stand up is in the middle. Throughout the night there was a steady stream of sound as we and the other hikers adjacent to us knocked into the slanted wooden walls of the hut. The lavatories were basic but positively luxurious to what we found at most places on the TDA - they flushed and were relatively clean.

The next day we hiked up to Horombo. This was supposedly a six hour hike but thanks to my father's blistering pace (a misnomer, this pace caused him almost no blisters), we reached in less than five hours. I struggled, walking behind him most of the way. Four months of cycling have not developed my hiking muscles well at all. In addition, compounded fatigue left me wanting more energy. I realised here that I was glad that the route is only five days. Almost certainly this contributes to the notion that the Marangu route is purely for tourists but lacking electronics and with a quickly diminishing amount of material to read - boredom was an everlooming spectre.

After eating dinner in the fine company of some stripey rodents (they made for an entertaining dinner, if adding little else to the atmosphere), we took the opportunity to rest well that night since the summit climb the next day wouldn't provide us with a good night's sleep. The next morning the cloud that we had been climbing in had lowered a few hundred metres and the view was of a gorgeous plateau that almost seemed walkable.

From Horombo to Kibo, another 1000 metre climb, there are two routes available - a lower route and an upper route. The upper route is a few kilometres longer than the lower route and takes you closer to Mawenzi before swinging back along the saddle to join the lower route. A bit steeper, we again machined up the route and overtook the cloud (which had overtaken us just as we left Horombo) to be the first trekking group to reach Kibo. My Dad, ignoring the advice to walk 'pole pole' (slowly), had walked at his usual London pace.

Kibo was COLD. The (single) hut there was as close to a concrete bunker as, I supposed, huts built for tourists could get. Inside the huts was cooler than outside - the sun didn't seem able to penetrate through the miniscule square single-glazed glass windows that lined the top of the wall on each side. Worse still was the schedule for the summit hike. Kibo is the last hut which you can sleep at (on the Marangu route) but is still a fair distance from the summit. This means that it is necessary to leave at midnight in order to reach the (official) summit at sunrise. Conditions as the day heats up usually worsen and the weather is best in the early morning. Once you reach the summit, you can either choose to hike on to Uhuru, the actual summit, or descend all the way back to Horombo via Kibo.

That afternoon we tried hard to rest before the summit climb and failed as expected. The complete disalignment of our attempt to sleep with our usual sleeping patterns and the cold (we were wearing all of our clothes for the summit hike inside our sleeping bags) made it difficult. Personally, I napped for about 45 minutes before dinner and slept for maybe 1.5 housr continuously before we were woken at 11pm.

Waking up, I felt bad from the outset. Sleep deprivation aside, my stomach felt like the scene from Star Wars where the Rebel Alliance is fighting the Death Star. This was most probably caused by the altitude and not sleeping properly. Regardless, we had to push on and we began trudging up the mildly loose scree that composed the majority of the climb up to Gilman's Point. We took our guide's pace - slow but steady and made it up to half way with only one toilet stop (Star Wars induced). As the midnight tea wore off, I found it harder and harder to stay awake and began to doze off each time we stopped.

As we entered the rocky section before the climb, my Camelbak froze solid and crunched everytime I shifted the weight of my backpack. The rocks blocked the light of the full moon from illuminating our path and soon we all switched on our headtorches. The rocks were larged and required, at some points, both hands and feet to climb over. I had to stop a few more times to use the toilet - at temperatures below freezing this became a miserable but necessary act.

After what seemed like eternity of being within a few minutes of the ridge at the top of the climb, we finally reached it at 5:15. Out of seemingly nowhere was a crooked wood sign 'Gilman's Point'. A relief but we stopped only for a few minutes to get a caffeine topup (the tea seemed to breath new life into the war in my stomach) and continued onto Uhuru.

It seemed that the trek to Uhuru took as long as it did to get to Gilman's - a false feeling induced by the sudden availability of daylight. We stopped several times, mainly to catch our breath and to take some photos. The view from the top of the crater was stunning and has made it into my list of favourite places in the world (now a total of 3). As we plodded onto Uhuru through snow and ice, we saw several trekkers leaping down towards us. This seemingly continued forever but an hour and a half from reaching Gilman's Point we reached Uhuru - a circle of clear earth amidst thick snow.

Mission accomplished and after the mandatory photos, we quickly began our descent - my Dad had begun to feel a little queasy from the altitude too (and unlike me, decided to say something about it)). The descent to Kibo was great fun - on the loose scree this was more akin to skiing than walking. The last time I did this down Mount Snowdon in Wales, I had no gaiters and my shoes quickly filled with rocks - this time though, it was smooth sailing.

From Kibo down, the descent was much harder work - my legs hurt more than the way up (different muscles again) and I could quickly feel the burn. The difference descending is that you are no longer limited by your cardiovascular performance - merely by your muscles. A few hours descending, another night at Horombo and then finally a 4.5 hour descent all the way to the gate - it was over.

What did I gain from this? It was hard climbing Kilimanjaro, no doubt, but our pace was set quite high. We could have taken it much slower and probably summited just the same. Is it the hardest thing I've ever done? No, but then I was subjected to the Dinder ordeal on the Tour D'Afrique (12 hours of pain versus the 9 hours from Kibo to the summit and back).

Finally, trekking isn't as fun as cycling (in my honest opinion), nor as exhausting. I can't wait to get back on my bike!

Besides the usual Cape Town touring (Table Mountain, Robben Island, Cape of Good Hope), I decided to commemorate the end of the Tour D'Afrique by getting a tattoo. It was something I was contemplating from Arusha and was definitely influenced by the numerous people around me on the Tour who had one (or more). Various ideas came to mind (a hippo riding a bicycle - my nickname at school was 'hippo') but the one I finally settled on was something both geeky and unique and unashamedly inspired by the CUCC logo.

The CUCC logo (see any photo of my jersey or look at the website) is a motif consisting of a curvy stick figure riding the letters CUCC like a bicycle. Instead of the letters CUCC, I envisioned a stick figure riding the infinity sign like a bicycle. Jason Becker, a phenomenal artist and fellow EFIer on the Tour, sketched the design and improved it significantly to the point where we could send it to off to Metal Machine, a well established tattoo parlour in Cape Town.

The process itself was brief and reasonably priced (I'm told, compared to Western parlours). A quick double check of the design, a choice of font (I had the distance and the letters EFI added to the bottom of the design) and I was ready to go sit in the chair. The artist who tattooed the design was a man called Milo, outwardly scary (in the way that being covered by tattoos could be) but totally friendly (and once a keen cyclist too).

The actual act took about twenty minutes and hurt in the same way that getting injections at the dentist hurts. Not overly painful but you can definitely feel it. My tattoo was placed on the outside of my right arm which I'm told is less painful than getting it anywhere on the inside. Places where skin touches skin are quite painful because they are very soft and resultingly tender.

After it was done, some basic aftercare instructions were given (no submerging in water, put lotion on it a few times a day, wash with warm water and soap only, don't scratch) and a week later, it's looking good. The only annoying instruction is not being able to expose it to the sun (it'll fade quickly otherwise) for a month.

I'm quite happy with it and most people I've shown it to like the design. Photos in the usual place.

The convoy into Cape Town was a pretty anticlimactic affair. Enjoying the city is always hard to do as you're trying to both maintain a conversation with your neighbour and maintain a safe distance from the rider in front of you. It was short by TDA convoy standards, just an hour to get to the V&A Waterfront where we would be staying (and a large crowd would be present to welcome us). As we rolled thirty kilometres over smooth dual carriageways, past construction (the World Cup is almost here!) with a view of the sea that constantly faded in and out, motorbikes carrying cameras screamed past us multiple times. On many occasions we'd pass cameramen crouching to the ground over a video camera - I presume these were all the same crew (or South Africa has a LOT of television channels interested in filming us...) who had been brought forwards by motorcycles.

Before the convoy and after, upon arriving in Cape Town, I was amused that one or two observers (friends and family of other riders) found it hard to believe I was a rider (who would have thought? A brown person on a bicycle? Gosh. (I jest.)). As we rolled into the V&A Waterfront, a crowd of perhaps a thousand people were there. A lot of these were passers-by who must have been curious what the growing crowd was gathered for but the rest were friends and family of most of the riders. After a frenzied scene of what looked like copious hugging and tears being shed, we assembled behind country flags and marched densely onto a stage in some kind of amphitheatre.

Presented with medals by the Cape Town Deputy Mayor (who looked every bit like the atypical 'Mayor' and very similar to Mayor Quimby from the Simpsons), we received medals for signing up to the tour and paying a few thousand Euros (ok, more for riding the Tour but it's funny that people were rewarded for this) and medals for EFI. Following this there was a presentation of medals to the top three finishers in both races.

A quick shop later (smart jeans were a necessity for the evening's festivities) and I went to check in at the hotel. This was an almost-amusing-but-not-quite mess where we had to tag and check in each bicycle individually with the Protea's security staff. Not accustomed to handling bikes and trying to squeeze them into a room that was only just about big enough, they had stacked the bikes up in a fairly wasteful way and I arrived at a time when they realised at this rate they wouldn't all fit. It took about half an hour of helping them remove bikes and cardboard boxes before there was space for my bike.

Skip forward a couple of hours, a shower and a shave later, and we were all sitting around round banquet room tables and gorging ourselves on a three course meal. Several of the riders who had been carefully nurturing their facial hair for four months had shaven and it was astonishing the difference it made to their appearance. Some faces looked like they now fit perfectly with the voice and personality we had come to know (Rod for one) while others were almost unrecognisable (Dave, James) - it took a long time to get used to hear a familiar voice coming out of an unfamiliar face.

That dinner was the end of the TDA 2010 - if it could really end. I've made some superb friends and experienced collectively what must equate to years worth of two week holidays. When I'm sitting in an air conditioned office tower in a few months time, I'll most likely be thinking of that day in Malawi when it was too hot to move but staying still made you an attractive target for every fly within a 5 metre radius. My bike will be with me for a long while though and like a reliable old car, it'll ride on without a mention of the various hardships of its long and well travelled life.

(All the posts I've made on this blog and this blog itself will stay online for as long as possible. If they ever go offline, I'll have either gone bankrupt or Skynet has sent a Terminator from the future to destroy the world.)

(A long overdue post for reasons previously explained.)

As it approaches the enc of the tour, many of the riders question their ability to transition back into their everyday lives in the real world. German woman's race leader Gisi suggests that she could ride her bike everyday and live in a tent everynight forever. I like to think that this doesn't apply to me (looking back over the last few weeks, this showed itself to be true). I look forward to being connected 24/7, having easy access to clean, running water and sleeping in a bed. No doubt I'll grow to miss the adventures and experiences of travelling through Africa with time but the generational gap probably accounts for difference in opinion (or perhaps even just the vast difference in age). We are the internet generation - being surrounded in technology is the norm for us.

Our last week of riding contained shorter riding days - around 130 kilometres per day. The road was beautifully paved (a phrase that seems to have been overused on this blog) but the flat days of Botswana were clearly far behind us as we tackled roller after roller into prevailing head/crosswinds. After freezing our way from the border to camp, a caravan park in the town of Springbok, we were greeted by most winterly temperatures for the first time since I left England in January. As it approached zero degrees Celsius, most riders donned their heaviest jackets, hats and gloves. Crawling into my sleeping bag, I left my jumper, hat and gloves on until emerging into the chilly morning sleet (personally I swear it was snow but my meterology skills are apparently suspect).

The next day, riding south to a town called Garies, the cyclist Gods of Africa through yet another perilous danger and EFI threat towards me - my crank fell off. Fortunately, it wasn't a serious mechanical failure, merely caused by loose screws (quite how those screws worked themself out is a mystery) and was easily remedied. Unfortunately my rusty Park Tools multitool couldn't supply enough torque to tighten the screws enough and it fell off twice again. Regardless, I made it to camp and Paul (initially grudgingly and then) willingly helped me tighten them up, using a spare screw to replace one of the screws that had stripped. In other news, rider Erin (who was 4th in the women's race) received her first stage win - a superb effort and brilliantly timed with just two race days left.

Dinner that night was a gourmet event - tacos, burritos with refried beans and a thick, chocolatey dessert. Henry Gold (founder of TDA and visiting staff member for the last section) donated a few boxes of white wine. Remembering that I needed to take my malaria prophylactis and not having water to hand, I washed it down with wine - a severe error in judgement.

All I recall when I woke up was a vague image of trying to escape from my tent. According to Paddy, my campground neighbour, he woke up, alarmed at the sound of what appeared to be someone in danger. As he went to assist me (I was struggling to open my tent door - all he could hear was the continuous sound of a zipper), he heard me laugh and realised it must have been some sort of sleep-escape. Bizarre.

On the last day of the race, we had a surprise. More dirt! Our route to Cape Town in South Africa started off on a main highway (the N7) but at Garies we took a turn towards the coast before following it into the city. A good 70km of the day was dirt - we had breakfast at Wimpy's before making the fateful turn onto rough dirt for which we were not prepared. My skinny tyres sunk deeply into the sand and the first part before lunch was hard work trying to keep the bike from slipping out under me. The heavy wind and drizzle made it a miserable experience.

After lunch though, things improved considerably. It was much quicker and I must have averaged well above 30kmph. Once the dirt ended though, we hit the pavement and turned right into had been a considerable crosswind and was now a considerable headwind. This lasted for a few kilometres and we eventually ended up on another private road that followed the coast. A combination of the salt water spray and dirt being kicked up from the ground made it hard to see and I road a fair chunk of that part of the day with my eyes shut (or open and watering profusely). Towards the end of the dirt road, I stopped to take a photo and when on my bike and accelerating again, my shorts (three pairs, to offset the effects of a lack of suspension) caught on my saddle, causing me to veer left (while trying to disentangle myself) and stop dead in the sand. Thrown off my bike onto my recently healed knee, the wound opened up again and gushed blood onto my damp and sandy leg.

This was our first sight of the sea since Egypt and it reminded me wholeheartedly of why the British public who frequent the seaside are so terrible misguided. The campsite was dire and about 80% of the riders deserted to the hotel next door after arriving in pouring rain. The campsite was part of the beach and hence sandy - a lot of riders who did stay were flooded out of their camps overnight. I managed to stay dry in my tent and slept beautifully to the roar of the sea. It frustrated me that they held two riders meetings - one at the hotel and one at the campsite (why should they cater to the wusses?)., especially when Dave and I were trying to announce the results of the Decathlon: won by Gert of Indaba. (In other news, like Erin, Rick also went for it and won the stage. Unlike Erin though, he isn't 4th in the women's race.)

The day into Yves Fontein, the last campsite of the tour was a fairly bleak day (what's new) and I tried (on a non-race day, it must be said) to be the first rider into both lunch and into camp. This, I managed and I was proud to overtake all riders who rode from lunch too. That evening, we had a few celebrations - a prolonged rider meeting and another rider's birthday. I celebrated with a bottle of Amarula (the leftovers were donated to the hot drinks table the following morning - in such cold, even a cup of Milo needed some help).

The final day we woke up with damp and cold kit but it didn't matter. We rode, leisurely, to lunch at the beach, pausing only to fix the puncture that threatened Jason's EFI. At lunch we took photos - Table Mountain in the background and the Atlantic ocean behind us and we gorged - James had laid out a beautiful buffet of cheese, crackers and BISCUITS! After changing into my tuxedo (four months of continuous cycling requires a stylish arrival), and a few more photos, the convoy began.

Lake Magadi, Kenya
(View in high res)

It might be useful for anyone considering this race seriously to know what kind of bicycles the top ten riders took. Here's a brief overview - if you want any more information, please feel free to drop me a message.

First place-
29er mountain Bike with (wide) drop handlebars + suspension. Tubeless tyres for most of the part. Wired disc brakes.

Second place-
26" mountain bike with a Rohloff hub. HEAVY. V-brakes.

Third place-
26" mountain bike with V-brakes and aerobars.

Fourth place-
Cyclocross bike, no suspension. Alu frame.

Fifth place-
Touring bike, no suspension. Steel frame.

Sixth place-
29" mountain bike steel frame with rigid forks, Cane Creek ST seatpost and drop handlebars. Cantilever brakes.

Seventh place-
See sixth place.

Eighth place-
26" mountain bike with hydraulic disc brakes.

Ninth place-
That's me, a tonne of detail about my bike on the equipment page.

Tenth place-
26" mountain bike with V-brakes and aero bars.

Not quite as binding as Newton's Laws, these are my own observations of unfortunate truisms of the last four months.

1) Punctures usually come two at a time, close together.

2) If you think a day is going to be tough, somehow it will become tougher.

3) If there's oatmeal for breakfast, the day will be tough.

4) If ever there is a buffet on offer, consider no other place to eat.

5) A clean piece of clothing will always be soiled embarassingly (spilling food on your crotch) within a few hours of wearing it.

6) Any promised animal sightings will probably not happen. (Conversely, any animals never mentioned will most likely be seen.)

7) The sun will come out just long enough for your tent to dry completely before it gets completely soaked again.

8) The only days on which you can't find your fork are those when spaghetti is served.

9) The day you skip lunch will be a day when lunch is especially good.

10) The days you decide not to put your rain fly on are when it will rain.

Sorry for being incredibly lax and not updating for a while. As a result of rampant photo sharing, my laptop has become sick with a variety of fairly nasty viruses. All my photos and blog posts are safe but I've been trying to fix it for the last few days so that I can complete and post the final few entries (of which there are many - both about the last week and regarding tips for future riders).

In any case, we arrived in Cape Town safe and sound. I managed to survive EFI until the end and finished 9th in the overall race (7th in the men's race). The finish ceremony was wonderfully done.

Unfortunately I managed to lose my memory card containing most of my photos for the last week and all of the photos from the last day but I will try and scavenge some photos from other riders.

If you have any questions about the Tour, my experience of the Tour or any queries about riding it in the future please send me a message or leave a comment on this post and I will gladly answer.

Our final stage on dirt into our final rest day of the Tour. An almost terrifying milestone but one that has come at a timely moment. Riding up and down through the rollercoaster-like hills of Namibia, away from Fish River Canyon, it was a hot and sweaty morning. The climbs were taxing and occasionally a moment of lapsed concentration would result in my bike veering and then abruptly slowing as it met loose sand.

At one point, spinning as fast as I could to keep up with Jethro, I hit a patch of deep and hard corrugation at 40kmph. Jumping into my technical offroad descent pose (elbows and knees wide, off the saddle, weight back on the bike) I managed to hold onto whatever notion of control I had entering the section. My bottles didn't survive though and with a quick crack/crack they both ejected from their cages and hit the ground. One bottle survived intact but the other exploded, the lid separating from the body and expelling the red energy 'juice' all over the ground.

I stopped, grabbed the bottles and made a composed effort to regain my speed as I climbed the hill. It was a long day though (175km) and I'd had a thirsty start, drinking a fair quantity of my 2 litre Camelbak within the first 15 km out of camp. With 55km until lunch and about a 1.5 litres left, my mind was beginning to panic. Luckily, about 20km out of lunch, just as I was about to run out of water, the green machine (another support vehicle) was driving back in the other direction. I gave it the thumbs down and Tour Director Paul pulled over, seemingly shocked that I'd have to flag it down so early in the day. They were carrying water and filled up my sand-covered mess of an empty water bottle. Saved.

On the way into lunch was a beautiful downhill - long, straight and smooth. Curious to see the speed at which rider and bike was reaching on this descent, I looked down at my sideways mounted cycle computer (my stem mount which makes it the right way round was cut off somewhere in Northern Kenya). Trying to work out the speed, I finally figured out it read 71kmph and quickly looked up, certain that I shouldn't be riding at that sort of speed without my eyes firmly on the road.

After lunch there was slow, painful uphill where the flies that always amaze me with their aerial agility tagged onto my draft and proceed to fly around my face for at least an hour. A couple of times I went to swat them and ended up knocking the visor off my helmet and then had to stop to put it back on. The uphill continued for a good 40 kilometres before changing into a speedy descent with a tailwind where my speed was a good 40kmph average. Soon after this, we hit the pavement and the refresh stop at a T-junction.

We turned right at T-junction and the wind continued to blow in the same direction. This was a strong sidewind - so much so that after twenty minutes, the muscles on the right side of my spine hurt from having to counteract the extra force. As we climbed uphill for ten kilometres, the road kept going in the same direction but soon after the slow, gradual descent began, the road also began to turn into the wind. As we neared the turn and petrol station at 166km it was a full on headwind and speeds rarely went above 25kmph.

The petrol station was a beautiful relief - an ATM, a Wimpy restaurant at which to spend any newly withdrawn money (serving excellent milkshakes and passable vegetarian burgers) and a small shop where I bought some goodies for the rest day ahead (a loaf of bread and some Marmite, amongst other items).

The last 7 kilometres into camp were hard work, a tough rollercoaster of hills into the wind, weighed down by the assortment of shopping strapped to my back. Camp arrived and it was heaven. Looking over the river to the other bank we could see South Africa, the bar and restaurant look down the river and falling asleep was easy with the relaxing whoosh of the wind. Lastly, and possibly the most influential asset of the campsite, was the availability of a washing machine to wash our clothes. Admittedly, with cycles that lasted an entire hour, it was a long four hour wait but the payoff was that the white parts of my jersey are now white again.

Milling around until dinner, we ate our main course and eventually came to dessert. Normally I prefer avoiding restaurant desserts in lieu of cheaper and better alternatives but we're effectively surrounded by nothing. The choice of dessert was limited to ice cream and to just chocolate and vanilla flavours at that. When the waitress came to deliver our ice cream bowls, she also delivered some bad news: they had run out of all other flavours of icecream. Out of the two flavours they initially offered us, it turned out that the only flavour they had left was rum and raisin. On hearing this, our table cracked up with laughter. (For some brief background information, of all the flavours we get PVM bars in, the most unpopular and worst tasting flavour is Rum & Raisin.) Regardless, ice cream is ice cream and we accepted their offering.

Feeling cheated from our false dessert (the portion size was also lacking in generousity), we asked the slightly intoxicated Tour Director Sharita if we could borrow the bucky (the support Land Cruiser). She replied that we could, the keys were on the seat if we could get it started - apparently she tried earlier and failed to start it. Taking this as a challenge, American Dan and I went and fiddled with the car and eventually, after 15 minutes, managed to get it to spring to life. We were almost dissuaded from borrowing it when Tour D'Afrique kingpin and owner Henry Gold looked like he was walking towards us - he switched direction though and walked away so we took this as a sign and left.

As we rolled down the rollercoaster road towards the gas station/Wimpy, Dan explained that he hasn't driven a car for nearly four years. Nervous and buzzing from the adrenalin, we rushed into Wimpy to order six milkshakes (one for myself, one for Sharita and one for each of the others sitting at our dinner table) and a veggie burger (Dan was hungry). The milkshakes came soon enough but the veggie burger took some time as they waited for the deep fryer to come back to life. Dan hadn't actually wanted or ordered fries but they were insistent on delivering some with his burger. Meanwhile, another five Africans who were clearly very hungry (and for some reason in a rush at 8:30pm on a Saturday night on the border with South Africa) started raising a fuss and argueing with the cashier. Another motorist came in at least five times to check if the fries he had ordered were ready. About twenty minutes later, when it became clear that the fries were still just a few minutes away, Dan requested his veggie burger unaccompanied by fries.

I took over from Dan and he sat in the passenger seat, lap full of burger (no fries) and five milkshakes (I had drunk mine in the restaurant). Driving the Land Cruiser was like driving a tank and it took a many-point turn to reverse out of our parking bay - much to the alarm of the drivers in the tiny cars to the side of and below us. As we rolled out on the main road, trying to turn the indicator on accidentally resulted in the windscreen wipers turning on (American style indicator stalks) and I had to check with Dan a few times to see if I was too close to the curb. The Land Cruiser was probably twice the size of the Yaris I normally drive back home.

When we returned to the campsite, it seemed initially like noone had noticed. When we arrived at the bar to distribute milkshakes, I stood waiting outside (no beverages bought outside the bar are to be consumed in the bar). As Dan told our dining associates that we had something for them, there was a big rush of riders that came out and the first thing I remember is Sharita angrily twisting my nipples and asking where the keys were. We explained that the keys were on the seat, exactly where they'd been left and she stormed off to the bucky. Simultaneously, mlikshakes were being snatched from all over the place and I think only two of the milkshakes made it to their intended recipients.

Paul came outside after the crowd had subsided, looking very serious with a stone cold face, a cigarette in his mouth and a beer in his right hand. He started talking to me and asked me, 'Sunil, what were you thinking to jeopardise your E.F.I. with just one week left to go?' . As I stuttered in response, he eventually broke into a smile and told me he was just giving me a hard time - making some hints towards revenge at the awards ceremony in Cape Town. I will be wearing my extra strong belt that day.

There's no doubt that being a vegetarian on a tour through Africa is going to be tough. Indeed, it's tough even if you go anywhere in continental Europe (to French chefs: true vegetarianism does not include fish). The strange thing is that most Africans tend to be vegetarian, purely because of the high cost of meat. As soon as you head out to a restaurant, they usually lack much in the way of truly vegetarian options. African waiters usually are unwilling or lack the lateral thinking ability to possibly ask the chef to prepare a meal without meat.

Most of the riders who started the tour as vegetarians have started eating meat again - some of them are mainly vegetarian but will eat meat when there is slim picking. There is one vegan on the tour who has remained solid throughough. I've managed to avoid meat but have had to adjust my diet to compensate - both for the lack of options and the heavy strain we're putting on our body. Regarding the latter, I don't feel as if we receive enough protein on the Tour - the kitchen goes to some effort to make sure we get some protein (beans or chickpeas most of the time, tofu a couple of times!) but occasionally the dish is entirely vegetable based. At lunch too, there is often no vegetarian option that includes protein while meat eaters usually get some form of meat. (Understandably it's hard to find meat substitute at a lot of places but lately when the supermarkets have been well stocked, I fear that us vegetarians have been forgotten.)

I've developed a few tips for helping anyone who intends on staying vegetarian for the duration of the tour.
1) Don't be fussy.
It's hard enough finding vegetarian food sometimes that you can't insist on strict separation from meat products. At one place in Sudan that served burgers - the eggs were cooked next to meat burgers and often on top of them. They were perfectly happy to serve fried egg burgers but you had to take what you could get.

2) Find your supplements.
In order to recover at all (your body starts burning muscle on the longer days on the bike - protein is a must) you'll need to supplement your meals with food that is protein heavy. Almonds/peanuts are quite good for this, as are eggs. True vegetarians would argue that eggs are cheating but you'll really suffer if you won't / can't eat these. Many of the TDA dinners include eggs, and most African restaurants that can cook vegetarian dishes will usually cook eggs.
Protein powder is quite useful and many of the racers use recovery drink. I've been using whey powder since Nairobi where it was available in the malls. I would recommend developing some scheme for stocking up with protein powder (at least if you're trying to race or be somewhat quick) or just buy it when you can (Nairobi onwards) and ration it carefully. Care packages which you could get sent to each major city (with mild difficulty) would be perfect for this - if you have the budget of course.

3) Eat well on rest days.
Rest days are when your body is trying to rebuild all the weary muscle tissue from the previous riding week - you need to fuel it appropriately. I've felt a lot better when I've had several good meals on rest days. Unfortunately this isn't always possible so you need to remember to keep food spare. In Sesriem in Namibia where we are now, the restaurant at the campsite doesn't offer anything vegetarian and is unwilling to cook anything vegetarian (with the exception of fries). Consequently I've had to make my own arrangements and luckily had some quick cook noodles to hand.

4) Bring a big dish.
At dinner every rider will be served before open kitchen is called and anyone can come and grab how ever much food they like. This means that non vegetarians are welcome to help themselves to the vegetarian option (which they usually do). If you don't get enough food on the first round, there is a not insignificant chance that you won't get any the second time round (depending on what the non-veg option is - i.e. fish). Bring a big plate and you'll get more than enough the first time around.

I'll go through the countries and just briefly summarise the food available on rest days when we have to feed ourselves.
Egypt-
Chicken is quite a popular meat dish but so are falafels and koshary (a strange spaghetti/rice/curry blend which is delicious). Vegetarians will have no problem here.

Sudan-
Falafels are still quite easily found. Eggs are quite popular too. In most restaurants though, you'll struggle to find a good vegetarian selection.

Ethiopia-
Nearly every restaurant will offer a 'fasting' version of food which is meat free. The bread (known as injera) and curry combination doesn't sit well in most peoples' stomachs though so you may find yourself resorting to Western food. Usually this will be pizza or pasta and they'll usually offer a fasting version of this. Egg dishes (sandwiches and omelettes) are available at most cafés (as well as superb fruit juices). Not an issue for vegetarians.

Kenya-
The Kenyan staple, ugali, is often served with beans and spinach at local joints. At more upmarket restaurants though, it's usually served with meat and you'll have to ask to have it without meat (literally in Swahili: bila choma). Meat in general is big in restaurants. Eggs are easily found, as are chapatis.

Tanzania-
Catering on the safari was acceptable although the vegetarian option was fairly plain compared to the meat option. There's an excellent cafe in Iringa (the Hasty Tasty Too) which offers a huge menu and lots of vegetarian dishes. It's far from the campsite the TDA uses but well worth the visit.

Malawi-
I ate well at the Western chain restaurants and the campsite. We didn't eat any local food so I can't compare.

Zambia-
The campsites in Zambia are very touristy and we spent most of our rest day at a mall - vegetarian food was easier to come by. On the cruise down the Zambezi river though, the vegetarian option was terrible - a plain pasta dish. There's an (apparently) excellent vegetarian restaurant in Livingstone - the waitress never brought my order though so I will reserve judgement. The local food is meat based (at least at the fairly touristy restaurant we visited) so vegetarians will have an easy time ordering the single option available.

Namibia-
In Windhoek, the pricier restaurants will have a good vegetarian selection although the focus is on game meat which is specially available here. At the more cost effective fast food chains, there are few vegetarian dishes on offer - they will usually be out of stock too.

South Africa-
We'll see but I'm hopeful.

As for cost, I'm usually offended by how much vegetarian dishes cost compared to meat dishes. We pay the same price for buffets and on one occasion, the TDA organised a dinner on a rest day where I was forced to pay $5 for a single fried egg. At Western restaurants the price difference is slight - vegetarian dishes usually cost just a little less. Sometimes though, restaurants will exhibit logic and a vegetarian meal will work out much cheaper.

Finally, these are all my own observations and I may probably have overlooked something. It is possible to survive without meat with some slight added pain.

Riding out of Betta was a mando-day, a 153 kilometre day that was just brutally long. After the first thirty kilometres the terrain improved considerably, was generally much smoother and was better packed. I struggled though, for reasons that I'm not sure about. Perhaps it was a night of bad sleep (there was a rooster that decided to wake us up multiple times from 4am onwards) or overconsumption of PVM bars (three before lunch alone) - I started feeling sleepy at my handlebars at 8am.

I reached lunch at 10:30am and decided to take a nap, eventually leaving at about 11:30am. The nap helped considerably and my speed returned that afternoon. About 9 kilometres out from lunch I had another puncture in my rear wheel and resigned myself to a slow day. A bit further on the dirt road suddenly turned into smooth, new tarmac. Just after this was a Coke stop marked on our riding directions for the day - the Coke stop was actually a supermarket stocking all sorts of delights from biscuits (already a winner) to Cornettos to ice cold soft drinks to a whole variety of European chocolates. Amazing.

The dream had to end though and less than a hundred metres down the road there was another new road side that showed two roads meeting - a paved road and a dirt road. Sigh. Still, the tailwind from the previous day prevailed and it was easy rolling until camp at Konkiep Lapa. Dave and I held the Mystery Event that afternoon since everybody was tired from the day (for me it was a nine hour day at least). The Mystery Event was one suggested by Race Director Kelsey - each team selected one competitor and they were told that from the word 'Go' they'd have to fetch both their headlamp and their malaria medication. TDA Tour Director Sharita won this with her mobile phone (also her headlamp) and no malaria medicine (she doesn't take any!).

For a short while at the beginning of the tour riders experimented with the notion of eating PVM bars as dessert. James, our cook, doesn't prepare dessert for us and besides the generally insatiable cyclist's appetite, we also have an innate need for something sweet from time to time (where this time to time period may range from minutes for a rider like myself to days for other riders). Throughout the trip we've had different strategies for coping - some riders stock up heavily on sweets and other goodies at rest day supermarkets and there has usually been a shortage of Snickers bars in most towns after we've passed through. As we get further south though, it's become easier and at the Konkiep Lapa campsite the matron of the establishment had prepared a beautiful milk tart dessert.

I'm told by sectional rider and South African Nicola that this is a true South African dessert and that the version they prepared was one of the best she's ever tasted. The dessert itself consists of a biscuit base (like that of a cheese cake) and is topped with something similar to custard but not as thick or as yellow. The topping is lightly sweetened and similar to lightly whipped cream that seemingly disappears when it hits your tongue. The whole dish resembles a pie and I was in dessert heaven after devouring my slice of paradise.

The next day was a shorter 126 kilometres to Seeheim Hotel which consisted of roughly 90 kilometres of pavement. I haven't looked at a map yet but it seems odd that there would be only 90 kilometres of tarmac (the next day was also dirt). This was a fairly rapid day and after the previous day my legs had returned to their usual form. I raced to the tarmac, keeping my speed above 30kmph on the smooth dirt, but was caught by Adam and Paul soon after I reached the tarmac. After the smooth dirt, the tarmac definitely seemed more uncomfortable despite being much faster to ride on. We rode as a group until lunch where Adam, trying to win the stage, went ahead, swapping his empty water bottles for my filled bottle to save time.

I took the afternoon slowly after a beautiful lunch (french toast!) and enjoyed the scenery. The paved road passed through some windy roads that cut through some huge rock outcrops - some fantastic climbing and descending which eventually took us over Fish River (what a terribly unoriginal name for a river) and to Seeheim Hotel. The hotel clearly had some heritage to it, looking more like a castle than any other hotel I've ever had the privilege to visit. Their camping space was fairly mediocre and we were faced with the challenge of accommodating forty tents on two tiny areas of grass. Trying to navigate a path to the bathrooms was a challenge that involved dodging tent guylines, shrubbery and avoiding falling off the edge of the ledge that the 'lawn' was upon.

We held the eighth event of the decathlon that night, a foot down competition. This ia a competition that is apparently popular at most messenger meets and appropriately suggested by Dave. The basic goal is to be the last competitor riding your bike. Each competitor rides their bike around a circle fenced by spectators that is constantly shrinking. As soon as you place a foot on the ground, you're out of the competition and have to clear the ring. Obvious dangers aside, it was a fun event for all spectating and was won by Indaba's Gert, a consistently high ranking team in the decathlon and also a non cyclist.

Today's ride to the Fish River Canyon Lodge was another shorter day of only 108 kilometres on dirt. There was a wonderful roadhouse on the way that served an excellent cheesecake. I had another puncture shortly before lunch bringing my total up to three within the last four riding days. Hopefully it'll be better once we hit pavement again and my Schwalbe Marathon Racers go back on. Tomorrow is going to be a harder day as we cycle into our last rest day of the trip - a campsite called Felix Unite near the border with South Africa. Time has flown past.

To finish, here is my revised country ranking with one country left to go:
1) Namibia, Sudan, Kenya
2) Tanzania, Zambia, Botswana
3) Egypt
4) Malawi, Ethiopia

Everyday I struggle to place myself within the riding group. I'm something of an inconsistent racer - on days I'll be far ahead of the pack, at lunch first and at camp early. Other days I'll be right near the back, riding slowly and being one of the last third of riders to make it to camp. This riding week and day previous to the rest day (since the last post) has been much like that.

On our way to Sesriem for our rest day near the dunes of Sossusvlei I managed to ride pretty quickly, feeling fairly fast and comfortable in the knowledge that it was a short day. Having two working earphones does wonders for your motivation too - before Windhoek I'd been riding with just one working earphone (which sounded terrible too). Looking around would have been beneficial in hindsight since most other riders saw a lot of wildlife that day - oryxes, giraffe, springbok. Arriving to lunch early, I left early and reached our campsite in Sesriem with plenty of time for the rest of the day. Racer Dan S. won the day's race, completing the list of stage winners so that now all top twelve racers have won stage plates.

In Sesriem, we signed up to a tour departing to Sossuvlei the next day at 4:30am and sat around doing nothing much. Sesriem consists of a few lodges, a well stocked gas station and our campsite. There was a series of dunes near to camp which a lady at the tourist desk of the lodge next door suggested we climb for a good view of the sunset. From the campsite, it didn't seem like the dune was too far away but having left a little too close to sunset, we decided to cycle there through the bush.

Unfortunately, the skinny tyres I borrowed from Eric were no good in the thick sand and coupled with tired legs, it was hard work keeping up with Dave, Sam and Jacob (Jacob was also trying to drink cider as he pedalled - he quickly relinquished that notion). We left the campsite just after 4:15pm and it was nearly 5 by the time we finally reached the base of the dune. Sam and Dave had run on up ahead, eager not to miss the sunset - Jacob and I tried to catch up, struggling to keep them in sight. The top of the dune seemed like it was constantly moving - as soon as we reached what outwardly appeared to be a summit, we saw another ridge down the line, rising up higher.

Eventually we reached the sunset and not a moment too soon. The sun was going down and the view from that dune was probably one of the best sunsets I've witnessed in Africa (African sunsets are generally superb too). Going down was good fun and involved sliding down using a similar motion to skiing. At the bottom I took my cycling cleats off and removed a good few hundred grams of sand from each shoe. We discovered a road that was far smoother and much better packed than the offroad route we had taken - following this back in the dark, we made it back to the gas station to buy a chocolate bar or two to temporarily silence our rumbling stomachs.

That evening eating at our campsite was a harrowing ordeal - their restaurant is unable to cater for vegetarians other than to provide a soggy and much delayed plate of french fries. Luckily I had some instant noodles in my bag to prevent total hunger that evening.

The next morning we woke up at 4:30 and foolishly I decided against taking a jumper, reasoning that we'd be in a warm enclosed vehicle. Unfortunately, the 4x4 we were loaded on was an open air safari vehicle. Our hosts were kind enough to equip us with fleece lined ponchos but the lack of total coverage and the giant breeze coming in through the windows made it a chilly experience.

We got to Dead Vlai (another site of interest near to Sossuvlai) just before sunset and hiked up one of the dunes to catch the sunrise. Other, more energetic riders hiked up a much larger dune but didn't managed to summit in time to catch sunrise. From there we slid down into a dead forest - a collection of trees that had dried out. As the sun came up it quickly warmed up - our guide said that by lunch time it'd be too hot to walk on the sand.

From there, stomachs rumbling (as the stereotypical touring cyclists that we are), we were treated to a fairly substantial breakfast. I'm not sure if the guys in charge were expecting us to clear them out of food but we finished *everything*. Returning to camp it was an extremely relaxed rest day - I ate a bowl of cereal for lunch and sorted out my bags and had time to watch The Pianist.

That evening we went to have a buffet dinner at the fancy lodge next door ($300 for a room per night!). This was the most expensive salad buffet I have ever attended - the dinner cost nearly $30 and was based around an impressive selection of game meat (springbok and various other Namibian wildlife). Still, the dessert was good and I had to stumble back to my tent via a shortcut that ran through a precarious wire fence and several thorn bushes.

When I reached my tent it took me a few seconds of shock to realise that it had been visited by a wild creature of some sort, most probably a jackal (judging by the dog like footprints). The broken zipper on my tent door means that the only thing keeping my tent sealed is a mosquito net which is flimsily clothes pegged to the edges of the doorway. The jackal had managed to break in via the side of the net and had ravaged an entire bag of protein powder, one of my protein bars and a bag of dried fruit (which I had been saving for four days!). This is the second time that an animal has stolen my food - the first being the dog that ran off with my loaf of bread in Maun, Botswana.

Leaving Sossuvlei the next morning (and enjoying the extra thirty minutes we were able to sleep in), it was a slow start but I soon sped up once I realised that my seat was a bit too low. That was a hard stage, the usually well packed dirt roads were loose and sandy. There was a lot of wildlife on the road and the roads had some amusing 'Caution' signs - silhouettes of zebra, springbok and giraffes were all present. At one point a herd of about thirty zebra crossed the road in front of me, speeding up as they sensed me speeding towards them.

Shortly after I passed Tim, a springbok ran up alongside and almost made contact. I didn't realise this at first (wondering what that strange metallic sound nearby was) but Tim explained what had happened at lunch. Second into lunch after Marcel, I left fairly quickly but sprung a puncture not more than 4 kilometres out. All the racers passed me and I elected then to take the remaining sixty kilometres slower. The tailwind made it a faster day and the hamlet of Betta came fairly quickly.

That afternoon Dave and I held the locker packing event of the decathlon and gathered enough bags that we were sure not everything would fit inside the locker. Our perception of volume is presumably flawed because the first competitor, American Sam, maanaged to fit it all in the locker and packed everything within three minutes. Most passers by had to double take at the pile of bags, amazed that all of it could fit in a locker. Besides several large duffel bags, there was also a pannier rack, hard shelled laptop case, tin of Milo and backpack. We thought we had picked an unused locker but one of the riders, Jeff, went to access his locker and was quite shocked to find it jammed full of assorted bags!

It was a cold night - the prevailing wind that had been at our tails for the entire day kept blowing late into the night (and also powered the electricity at the campsite via several miniature turbines). I camped inside a brick floored and walled picnic area so didn't put my outer fly on the tent. When I woke up in the morning, it was the coldest I have been in the entire trip and even with arm warmers and a gilet on, I was shivering.

I just realised that we've reached May - astounding how fast time has flown. Like a friend mentioned, time is passing far too quickly nowadays. The last two days have been the first two out of seven on the Namibian dirt road which takes us to Sossusvlei - a touristy town on the edge of a desert.

This dirt is remarkably smooth - often more comfortable than some of the pavement we've ridden. Occasionally there are deep, sandy patches (not fun on skinny tyres) and some corrugation. On the whole though, not nearly as bad as the Sudanese/Kenyan/Tanzanian dirt we've ridden so far. Today, there were a few giant puddles crossing the road and I took the opportunity to ensure my clothes became suitably filthy by rolling through all of them at speed. (The knobbly tyres I'm using are great for kicking up muck.)

The rain cloud that has followed us since we left Cairo is seemingly intent on accompanying us all the way to Cape Town. It's rained the last two days - yesterday we were saved from damp cycling but the thunderstorm started making noise shortly before dinner. Today we rode towards grey clouds for much of the stretch before lunch - not being rained upon but battling against a solid headwind. At lunch it started raining and after we climbed the Spreadshootge Pass (odd place names are all the rage in this Afrikaans speaking part of the world) the rain started. Apparently it hasn't rained in this part of Namibia for three months making us both unlucky and lucky(?). As Tour Director Paul commented, 'Someone up there must really hate these people.' We've had more rainy days than any other TDA past (I think).

I'm running out of ways to describe the rain so I'll just mention that it was heavy and lasted for what seemed like an hour. Shockingly my cycle computer continued working throughout the entire experience. When the rain decided to leave me alone, my speed had halved - an effect of the headwind which was thrown in free with the rain. A strange thing happened to me around 100km in and 20km from the end. I felt extremely dozy on the bike - almost as if I was about to fall asleep. I checked my heart rate monitor and I was only at about 130BPM, 65% of my maximum. For a short while I put some effort down to try and wake myself up by travelling at a faster speed - these seemed to work temporarily but my tired legs soon brought me back down to a slow speed.

Yesterday we ran event number five of the Decathlon, the rock throwing contest. This event stems from the practice riders have had at returning missiles thrown at them in Ethiopia. Besides a cardboard cutout (carefully prepared by Jacob) of a child hoisted on a pole, we also had a map of Africa which Dave staked out using a rope and some tent pegs. I marked the countries out using flagging tape and competitors were given points for every country (that we visited) in which they managed to land a stone. The cardboard cutout was amusing and rider Dan S. managed to rip off the cutout's arm with a rock half the size of my helmet. By the end of it, we had to tape its head up because it had lost all rigidity from being pelted with such force.

Another miscellaneous facts - my locker door has broken off for the third time this trip. This is due to a combination of my poor upper body strength (trying to load my heavy permanent bag containing spares and less often used clothing usually results in a fair amount of weight on the door+hinge) and some lack of care. It is annoying though because my packing system relies on being able to fit loose items at the front of my locker - I've found some of my possessions floating loosely about the truck twice in two days now.

Tomorrow we ride into another rest day although apparently there is no internet access until we hit South Africa which is not for another eight days at least. I'll try using my mobile internet connection but seeing as there hasn't been any cellular coverage for a couple of days, this is not too promising.

Lots of sand.
(View in high res)

It's been an absolutely exhausting week and I apologise for not writing with my usual frequency. We've now left Botswana and entered Namibia - the second last country on our epic voyage across Africa. The riding has been tough, it's been long (we've covered approximately 827km (517 miles)) in five days. The longest day of the tour was this week - a 207km day which took us across the border.

NYC bike messenger Dave and I have been coordinating the first few events of the TDA decathlon. The first day this week was damp 160km day out of Maun, I rode slowly, riding the morning with Dave and the afternoon with Jacob. It was at our last bush camp that evening that we held our first event, in the midst of a perpetual thunderstorm that seemed to follow us all the way out of Botswana. Worried that decathlon spirits may be dampened (no pun intended) by the heavy rain, we pressed on regardless. The first event was to be the hole digging contest - a key skill for any aspiring bush camper.

I'll leave the full description of the event to the post I wrote for the TDA blog. In any case, our twelve teams put on a good show and a lot of clothes became fairly muddy. The ground behind the trucks which was just about walkable became a muddy mess full of puddles that would instantly soak you up to mid-shin. After dinner, I sheltered in my (thankfully) dry tent and treated myself to a cup full of custard. Not wanting to wash the cup in the pouring rain, I put it upright in my dish kit ziploc bag. Predictably, I forgot it was there and held my bag upside down, resulting in a yellow mess in the corners of the my once fairly clean ziploc bag.

The next morning, we were treated to a hot breakfast by the kitchen and not just warm oatmeal either. Scrambled eggs and baked beans went down a treat but the change in the consistency of breakfast interrupted my usual morning routine. I decided to go use the shovel whilst people were getting ready to leave - as I returned the fastest (and as a result, latest leaving) group of racers was leaving - I was pretty much last. I rode hard for the morning, caught up with Dave and we planned the afternoon's obstacle course.

On the way into camp, my attention drifted off the road and I managed to fall off my bike on a flat, slow road - hitting a cat eye in the road while holding my handlebars too softly. I managed to graze a fairly large area of my knee and it was swollen for a bit. At time of writing, it still hurts to bend it (although not an issue when cycling).

A lot depended on what the campsite had to offer but we managed to make a fairly reasonable course. I'll list the course below:
- Start at lunch truck
- Run through eight parallel tyres placed on the grond (penalty for missing a tyre)
- Take a picture of the whiteboard
- Roll tyre down the road to your bike
- Pick up your bike and follow the flagging tape to the bar
- Ride over the bridge and then walk your bike through the bar
- Turn left out of the bar compound and follow the flagging tape
- Pass through the Coke bottle slalom course
- Turn right and follow the road onto a dirt track
- Pick up any loose objects in the grass for extra points (including water bottles, track pumps and a camping stool).
- Follow the road through another slalom course.
- Sprint up to the ramp and jump your bike.
- Finish at the lunch truck.

The riders enjoyed it - we worried initially the lap might take too long (near ten minutes) but the quickest competitors were around it in just under three minutes. Mountain biker Simon won this event - the offroad, jumping on and off a bike and general bike handling skills necessary suited him perfectly.

The next morning we woke up to another thunderstorm. Aside from a handful of other occasions, the rain has usually stopped before the majority of camp wakes up. This didn't though and it was a case of packing up our tents while getting wet. This was also the longest day of the Tour - a 207km day that took us across the border to Namibia. If you're think you're having a bad day on the Tour, fate nearly always seems to do something to make it worse. As I went to load my bottles onto my bike, I noticed the rear tyre was flat. Changing the tube, I ended up leaving with Jethro, Marcel, Stuart and Gisi (the latter two are both race leaders).

At this point it was still pouring with rain and the road was saturated. I tried riding with Jethro and Marcel but Jethro's tyres kicked up a fair amount of grit into my eyes - seeing ahead (difficult in the rain as it was) became painful and I had to drop out. Sometime later Stuart and Gisi came by and I rode with them. Gisi, assuming Jen was ahead of her and not wanting to secede a mando-day, asked us to skip lunch. Pumping up my tyre in a rush (they stopped for a minute to grab a banana), we rode on until the refresh stop at 150km where I left them, feeling exhausted and unable to maintain that speed.

At this point the day had dried up and our clothes were pretty much dry. I rode on alone from the rest stop, taking it easy and enjoying the last of the Botswanian scenery. As mentioned before, fate dislikes us having too easy a ride and about ten kilometres from the border, I cycled into a thunderstorm parked on the highway. From a distance you could see it - the misty grey stretching from several kilometres above right down to the road. The road looked like it was turning away from the cloud but soon leaned back towards it. Anticipating some light rain, I wasn't surprised when it started drizzling lightly. As the drizzle got heavier, I pedalled on, eager to be free from the demoralising shower.

It was when the lightning struck that I was reminded of the wrath of Africa's weather. The thunder exploded at a decibel level which I'm sure caused me temporary tinnitus. It was absolutely splendiferous and as the rain plummeted down onto my bike, the wind stepped in and pushed me from side to side. I kept my head down, amazed that my MP3 player was still working in its not-entirely-waterproof fake Ziploc bag. The rain was coming down off my bike and creating miniature waterfalls and pseudo-streamers, coming off at an acute angle from my handlebars as it was bullied by the brute force of the wind.

Within a few kilometres, it was over. Rod, Juliana, Jen and Lynne caught up with me as I reached the border post, absolutely soaked and as incredulous as I was. We crossed the border and got our tents up in the mud long enough for them to dry slightly before the storm caught up with us again and undid the sun's efforts.

I started the next day with a low tyre, a probably slow puncture. Trying to pump it up using the worst of the two track pumps the Tour has, pressure was going in but when I removed the head of the pump, the valve came with it - ripped clean from the tube. By the time I had changed my tube and pumped up my tyre, the sweep rider had already left into the morning fog. This start was partially remediated by the two milkshakes I was able to consume at Wimpy, a South African fast food chain. This was probably one milkshake too many and the last fifty kilometres were painfully slow. In any case,we made it into camp at about 2pm and once Dave was in, we planned the next two events - the Coke chugging competition (postponed the previous day because of the long distance) and the PVM bar eating competition. These are both fairly explanatory - it was interesting to see the variety of methods riders had for consuming a PVM bar (which is essentially edible plastic) at speed. The photos I've uploaded tell more of the story.

There was no rain that night and the next day was dry but windy as we rolled towards Windhoek. We began with a team trial - the teams arbitrarily chosen by Race Director Kelsey. Our team was strong, including Jason (a non-racer but still EFI) and Jethro. Some of the slower riders on our team decided against participating and although we started as a team of six, we became a team of just three. The time trial went well but I could feel the previous four days in my legs. Jethro would pull us along at 35-36kmph, Jason would managed 34kmph and when I was in front we'd drop down to 32kmph. We were close to winning - about a minute off.

After lunch, the headwind picked up and it was a sluggish 80km as we climbed approximately 800 metres up into the city. As the rolling hills began, Ruben, who I was riding with, began swearing. He soon left me behind and I ploughed on alone, the headwind preventing me from breaching the 20kmph speed barrier. At some point a huge convoy came past, at least four motorcycles, a pickup truck filled with gun-toting military men, four police cars and three armoured Mercedes. I'm curious to find out who was in that convoy.

Stuart and Gisi caught up and I tagged on just as the downhills begans. Suddenly my speed doubled with the draft and the effects of gravity - a welcome relief. We stopped at a large bicycle shop, probably one of the biggest and best shops I've seen to date (including those at home!) and I stocked on accessories, buying yet another bottle cage (the sixth so far) and a pair of tubes. Riding into camp along Robert Mugabe Avenue (an unnecessary tribute to a terrible man), it almost took as long to reach the campsite from the reception building of the Arrebusch Travel Lodge where we are staying.

At the end of a week like this, when you are pretty much completely physically exhausted, it's hard to get your act together and set up your tent. I began the rest day by looking for my spare tyre bundle (containing my two sets of spare tyres, my spare rim and pannier rack). These are all kept together on the roof of the dinner truck and dropped down every rest day for riders to access. I couldn't find my bundle and none of the Indaba drivers had any idea about where it might be. I can only surmise that it was either forgotten at one of many rest days we've had since Iringa (when I last used it) or that someone walked off with it at some point on one of the rest days. Immensely frustrating - both for the financial cost and for the inconvenience of having to borrow tyres from another rider. Luckily Eric Dufour lent me a set of pretty neat looking Maxxis Cyclocross tyres which I hope will work well on the dirt.

Setting my tent, the week didn't seem like it could get any worse. It could though and my zip stopped working. Earlier I had fixed it with a pair of pliers - squeezing each side to help the zipper grip the zip better - a common camping trick. I tried the same today - the effect of doing this several times was that this time the zipper simply snapped in two. I had another zipper though, at the top and equally non functional. I tried the same trick and this time gave it too much force, causing it to jam and bind to the zip.

Feeling broken (saddle sores being the worst they've been on the entire trip and leg aching), exhausted (I've not felt this tired since I stayed up for 40 hours straight to finish my dissertation draft) and cheated (£150 worth of cycling equipment, gone!), I was apprehensive about dinner at Joe's Beerhouse, a popular tourist destination in Windhoek. Most of the tour went along that night as a leaving party for sectional (but almost full tour) riders Jerry and Viv - fellow Britons. The gastropub is a fantastic assortment of German (I assume) memorabilia and general tat - the food was excellent and the atmosphere is lively. I struggled to finish my main course (unusual on this trip) but the cannelloni I did manage to eat was great.

Just two weeks left and the end is in clear sight. A lot of riders lost EFI at this stage last year but they've amended the route so that it is actually possible. Let's see what happens tomorrow.

After one hundred and sixty kilometres, we set up our tents and waited for 3pm to roll around. Today, the first day of the riding week out of Maun in Botswana, was to be the first day of our rider organised TDA Decathlon. Consisting of ten events to do with our daily life on the tour, it was yet another way to fill the empty hours between drinking soup when we arrive and rider meeting just before dinner. The events range from eating a PVM (energy) bar as fast as possible to packing a locker to riding a bike around an obstacle course. Each team consists of three riders, except for the Indaba Crew and TDA Staff teams.

The first event today was a hole digging contest - an important skill for any bush camper (incidentally, today was also our last bush camp of the tour). Contestants were required to start at the dinner truck, grab the (yellow) shovel, and sprint to a location twenty metres away to dig a hole. Once the hole was dug, they'd sprint back, deposit the shovel and wash their hands before the clock stopped. The size of the hole was judged by using half of a yellow oil container borrowed from the truck.

The rain that has been following us since we left Cairo decided to strike again shortly after 1pm rolled around. Determined to continue regardless, we made plans to meet at 3pm. In the interim two hours a thunderstorm approached and settled above us, lighting up the clouds with marvelous luminosity, thundering like the footsteps of a giant and pouring dense, heavy droplets of rain into the earth below us.

The first team to try their hand was 'The Good, The Bad & The Ugly', selecting rider Jacob to undertake this task. After bashing the shovel into the ground in four or five different places, he finally settled on a location on the rim of the nearby pond. It became clear that we had possibly selected a difficult location - rocks in the mud made it difficult to dig quickly.

Next up was Gert, Indaba's contestant. With a vigour that is clearly the result of years of practice, he attacked the soil, forcing most observers to step back to prevent getting sprayed with dirt. Sprinting back, he slipped in the vortex of mud that the ground surface near the truck had become and collided with the bumper of the truck.

Dan, the next contestant, picked a location even closer to the pond and was rewarded by having beautifully soft mud to shovel and a nice quick time. Stuart contending for 'The Three Bears', current race leader, was a particularly quick shoveller and sprinted into the arena (literally). On his sprint back, he also slipped in the mud and was covered from head to toe. Sam, part of the team with the lowest average age 'Two And A Half Men', was a frantic shoveller, managing full 360 degree coverage of the ground around him with shovelled dirt - also managing to accidentally cover several observers. Racer Jethro, part of the 'Conflict Of Interest' team (which includes both Dave and I, competition organisers), managed the fastest time with a consistent shovelling motion and not wasting any time searching for ideal ground.

The women contestents, Jen, Viv, Andra and TDA nurse Michelle (for the staff team) also made excellent efforts whilst also exposing thei audiences to previously unheard (and amusing) levels of foul language. Andra's digging technique was unusual and whilst most other competitors dug holes that were rectangular shaped, her atttempt turned out somewhat elliptoid. Paddy was the last digger and ended the exciting afternoon with a valiant effort.

Covered in mud and soaked, it was an enjoyable afternoon dropping the plastic oil container into the holes and I look forward to tomorrow's event - a bicycle obstacle course.

(View in high res)

While studying, I experienced many different forms of exhaustion - lack of sleep, physical exhaustion, mental exhaustion. The last week has been tiring, and it's the accumulation of so many weeks of hard exercise whilst sleeping in a tent. It's more of a complete exhaustion than anything singularly identifiable. It's getting harder to get out of my sleeping bag in the morning and my legs actively ache. Yesterday, cycling into Maun, I was able to keep up with the faster groups for the morning but coming out of lunch with them became hard work. After a few kilometres, I dropped off and struggled to maintain a decent speed.

The long, straight and relatively flat road here is getting boring now. When you're fresh it's fine but soon into the day it becomes a mental slog of merely counting down the kilometres. Yesterday was one of those days and the final twenty to thirty kilometres into Maun added a beefy headwind. Still, there were a few moments which rescued the day - a red car drove past with the windows rolled down - I counted four pairs of hands clapping.

Maun is a touristy town and not the capital of Botswana (in fact, this is the first country we're travelling through where we won't pass through the capital). It's quite pleasant though, the taxis are cheap and there's a few things to do around town. I've discovered that there's free wi-fi at the airport and so I've been here for the last three hours uploading photos, planning my summer of cross country racing and just generally gleaning information from the internet.

It took a while this morning but Jason and I eventually found a third person (Jeff) to accompany us on a hour long scenic flight over the Okavango Delta. It was awesome fun going up in a light aircraft again - slightly unsettling on the stomach but well worth the expense. The landscape is as flat over the Delta as the roads have been and it was intriguing trying to spot game - elephants are well disguised as bushes (and vice versa) while giraffes are often unmistakeable trees.

Not much else has happened this rest day - in a bid to avoid having to pay an extortionate price for breakfast, I prebought cereal and long-life milk. When I woke up this morning, it was raining heavily outside, so for the first time I took my bowl out and ate breakfast inside my tent (normally my tent is packed away in the truck by the time breakfast is out). Luckily no milk was spilt and it was a wonderful new experience. When I eventually left my tent, I discovered that the hotel continental breakfast was the same price as my cereal and milk and for an unlimited buffet of bread and cereal. Oops.

Now it's time to get some food, pick up my laundry and clean my bike. Oh how I'm sure I'll easily forget these rest days.

We're at our second last bush camp of the trip. This is almost ground breaking (no shovel pun intended) and I am already nostalgic. I remember the first night we camped in Egypt at a desert camp on the side of the road - the excitement at finally being out in the wild, confined to just what we had brought with us and remote from any hint of civilisation. The sky in Africa is wonderful - endless and beautifully patterned, littered with clouds both soft and hard, colourful and stark against the varying terrain. It's usually in the bush camps that the sky is prettiest - unobstructed by buildings and fences. At night there are no lights to dampen the brightness of the stars.

As for this bush camp, it's hot and damp (it rained several times earlier - a storm was headed for us but the wind pushed it around). There are ants everywhere in the soft sandy ground - this makes it easy to dig a hole but harder to find a place suitable for digging (you don't want ants climbing up your trousers!). It is a genuine bush camp - there are many bushs - and amongst the bushes are many thorn bushes. Walking into camp earlier I had to stop to pull thorns out of my socks.

The last couple of days have been long (155km yesterday, 182km today) and I've taken it slowly. Yesterday I accidentally left camp late when a call of nature resulted in returning to the truck just after the rest of the riders had already left. Resigned to cycling solo, I got going with a new saddle (borrowed from fellow British rider Jerry) which wasn't correctly adjusted. I didn't realise this was sucking my speed down much until today when I raised it slightly and consequently found the whole day rather slow. This was probably helpful though - my saddle sores have resurfaced on the rougher tarmac to a painful degree - riding slower seems to stop them getting much worse.

After about forty painful kilometres on damp tarmac (it had rained heavily the night previously - unusual for Botswana and probably evidence for climate change), I caught up to Dave and rode with him until lunch. We discussed our plans for a competition between the riders - the Tour D'Afrique Decathlon. I'll describe the competition in more detail in another blog post but the basic idea is for 3-person teams of riders to complete tasks over the course of ten riding days - these include eating a PVM bar as fast as possible (these are the extremely chewy energy bars given to riders) and drinking a soft drink as fast as possible. That afternoon, I rode with Jacob into camp, nice and slowly.

Today was similar slow and I rode with the fast peloton for about 20km at some point in the morning. Riding in a group usually pushes you to go faster than you're comfortable and I was definitely uncomfortable. I dropped off and rode the remaining distance into lunch solo. After lunch (which was next to a GIANT baobab tree), I rode the afternoon with Ruben, Jason, Paddy and Erin and it was great fun. Riding with the right people seems to make these long, flat and straight days roll by easier.

We stopped a couple of times to take photos with a giant model of an aardvark next to the side of the road and to eat the most delicious Rolo icecream. The currency here is roughly 10 to 1 with the British pound which makes conversion amazingly easy. At the same time though, I've been astonished at how expensive the drinks are, nearly a pound for a can - comparable with our prices back home.

The Tour Cook is away on vacation this week and coincidentally the meals have been excellent - although this is more down to the increased availability of good food. A quick listing-
Sunday - Spaghetti Bolognaise WITH GENUINE CHEESE
Monday - Mushroom Stroganoff + Mash (Memories of the Fitzwilliam stroganoff came to mind)
Tuesday - Tofu + Veggie Burgers + Pumpkin filled with feta
Wednesday - Curry
Today we were extra lucky because they made dessert - a mix o biscuits, custard, caramel and dessicated coconut. Through some delightful turn of fate, I found myself in the kitchen twice (and armed with a spoon) when they were about to throw away cans or wash bowls used to make the dessert. Hopefully I made it slightly easier to clean their cooking apparatus :-).

The first of the last stretch that will take us into Cape Town began today - a long day but this is going to be the normal distance from now, 162km. We were given an explicit warning this morning about how we should act if we encounter elephants. In the past, according to Tour Director Paul, riders have been chased or charged by elephants.

I rode fast with Paul, Lynne, and Tim (we also picked up a sectional rider, Andrew) across the flat Botswanian road. It is fairly straight and pretty monotonous, occasionally switching between smoother and rougher tarmac. It was advantageous having the draft but I suffered in the larger group, having fewew opportunities to stand up and relieve my discomfort.

There was a delicious smell coming into lunch and the staff had made burgers for us - a first for lunch! Wanting a burger, I stopped and ate. The others, racing the day, carried on and skipped what was one of the top three lunches so far (the other two were when French toast was served and when they fried eggs for us).

I rode the afternoon by myself but will probably reconsider riding in a group based on a conversation I had with a passing motorist. A white pick up truck pulled up next to me and the driver rolled down the window, 'You're crazy! You left your group way back there.'. I laughed and shrugged. He asked how much further I had to go today and where we were ultimately going, fairly standard questions. Then he continued, 'You're crazy! Everytime I've driven on this road I've seen lions. Last time there was a male on the left and two females on the right - I think he was chasing the females.' My plan is to ride with a group of slower riders so that if such an encounter happens, the lions will be occupied with the riders who are left behind whilst I can get away (just kidding).

We camped at another bush camp, when I arrived the camp air was full of butterflies, bees and general flying insects. Luckily there was no attack by the ants and my tent remained a safe zone. Certainly, when it started to rain lightly, I was happy for the dry refuge.

It was meant to be a fairly short (82km) and hence a fairly fast day into Botswana but fate obviously had other intentions. As we raced out of camp on the dirt driveway for over a kilometre, we made our way towards town and looked out for the left turn that would take us to the border. Unfortunately there were many left turns and ours was not flagged (as they usually are). Four kilometres past where the turn should have been, we stopped and asked for directions and were send spinning back towards town - adding an extra eight to the day and voiding any purpose to riding fast.

Further down the road, I heard a strange noise and all of the sudden the road became very rough. Looking back, i noticed my back tyre was flat and dropped off the fast group of three we had. Normally the first step in fixing punctures is replacing the tube - were we at home, I would have had a nice new tube to swap out. Unluckily most of my new tubes have now been spent and my spare tube was patched. The valve on the patched tube was also bent and this was my undoing - when unscrewing the pump from the valve, the mangled core came out too. Moving back to my original tube, I spent some time patching then pumping it up. By this time, Michelle, the sweep rider for the day had caught up and I was probably delayed by about forty minutes (including time for the detour).

Pushing on, I blew straight through lunch, stopping only to fill my water bottle and pump up my tyre fully. At 72km (or 80km with the detour) I reached the border and scanned out. Spending my remaining kwacha, I bought lunch (two mandazi - the fried bread / donuts that are common in Africa) and two ice cold (literally frozen) Fantas. After this, it was a quick exit stamp at the border and then a short ferry ride into Botswana.

As soon as we entered Botswana there was a clear smell of elephants, none of which we could actually see. The smell was likely coming from the turgid piles of dung which are littered across the road. Our campsite, just a few kilometres from the border, was dusty - a complete change to the grassy Zambian and Malawian campsites. I wondered where the grass had gone and could only conclude it had something to do with Botswana's large elephant population.

Our first priority in any new country is to get some local currency - Dave, Dan, Jacob and I cycled down to the local town to use the ATM. After managing to withdraw some money (others weren't so lucky), Dan and I looked for local sim cards. After asking around at a few shops at the mall, the only place that actually stocked and sold sim cards was a clothing chain called CP (something similar to an African version of Gap) - bizarre but useful.

I swapped bikes with Dan on the way back to camp - his bike is heavier but SO MUCH more comfortable. The saddle was a sofa-like experience and I advise any future riders to seriously trial out as many saddles as possible.

That afternoon about half of the riders took a river safari cruise down the Chobe River. Scrambling for a 'window' seat (a misnomer because there were no windows - the entire boat was open), I picked the wrong side. Apparently boats here also drive on the left hand drive - don't sit on the right hand side! We were promised lots of game, mainly by other riders/staff who have been on the cruise before. We saw a fair few elephants, lion, some buffalo and a tonne of hippos. Something about the higher water level here meant that there were fewer animals on the waterfront because they're able to find water further inland. In any case, the river was beautiful and it was an enjoyable, if muggy, afternoon.

(View in high res)

We're in Livingstone for three nights, or two rest days. I'm happy the TDA has organised the rest days like this - it's a beautiful place, touristy but pleasant and there's a lot to do. The campsite we have as a base isn't the best available so most of the riders have evacuated and either gone to some fancy hotels on the Zimbabwe side of the river or have come to the Waterfront campsite where I'm now writing from.

This campsite is lush, has a great view down the Zambezi river and we can even see the spray from the falls off in the distance, like a unusually low cloud resting on the surface of the water. It has a swimming pool, warm showers with decent pressure and a well stocked bar. It's also very quiet and I've had two nights of sound sleep.

A good proportion of the tour came on the unashamedly named 'booze cruise' down the Zambezi. This two hour cruise takes us up the river, away from the waterfall (unfortunately but probably for our safety!), up to a beautiful sunset before turning around and taking us back. It includes unlimited food and drink but unfortunately they didn't appear to cater for the limitless appetite of the touring cyclist. The vegetarian selection was as meagre as expected, an uninspiring pasta dish. The drinks weren't too bad though and I knocked back four double vodkas/whiskies with Sprite and orange cordial.

Returning to the campsite, I decided to make up for the lack of Amarula in the previous month, served ice cold in a round glass from the Waterfront bar. Several of the Canadian sectional riders who are part of a charity working in Zambia decided to take us out to some of the best Livingstone nightclubs and we took a heavily overloaded bucky (pick-up truck) out to the town centre. This was crazily dangerous - just 5 people sitting in the front two rows and 13 of us crammed into the bed of the short wheelbase truck. I was one of the later passengers to arrive so was standing up along with Jethro. The bumps were pretty painful, trying our hardest not to lose our footing or inadvertantly step on other people's feet. It was the corners that took the most dangerous award though, since our narrow stance in the limited floor space there was, coupled with the loose grip on the rollcage of the truck, made it difficult to hold on and predisposing us to the very genuine danger of falling out of the truck.

We made it though and after skipping past one club that was playing polka music, we found a warehouse-esque bar-club which was pumping Zambian dance music (whilst also showing a football match that most other patrons were glued to). Leanne requested they change to more Western music and the group was happily dancing for a while. I left early, falling asleep from a few days worth of poor rest.
The next morning, we booked the bungie jump, swing and zip line package as a group and then head into town to hunt down an ATM that would give us cash to pay for the package.

Heading to a homely vegetarian restaurant for lunch about an hour before we were supposed to meet everyone for the jump, we were panicking when the food hadn't arrived 5 minutes before we were supposed to be back at the campsite (especially since I had the booking voucher for all eight of us). A dose of karma was delivered to me when I didn't receive my meal with everyone else. When we asked the waitress if they'd started making my meal yet, apparently she had forgotten. Unhappily hungry and pressured with the lack of time, I chowed down on a packet of custard creams as we made our way to the falls.

I wasn't especially worried about throwing myself off the bridge into the Zambezi river at all until after we had registered and made our way onto the bridge. It was only then, looking down, that I realised what a ridiculous endeavour this was. Watching the other riders jump off the bridge, plummet towards the water and then bounce around made me quite nervous and when my turn finally came, at least 45 minutes later, I was dead silent.

When they called my name, I stepped on the platform all harnessed up. Various checks were done, they clip you first to the edge of the bridge and then transfer you to the bungie cord after strapping the leg harness on tightly. When it comes to it, you jump forwards off the edge of the platform and fall like a rock until the cord tightens. Then you rebound up and down a few times, and if you're anything like me, you'll feel slightly ill. I lost count of the number of times I bounced up and the lack of control and visible direction was frustrating and mildly terrifying. At one point, I was spinning around and had a clear view of the circular rainbow caused by the mist from the waterfall - I started laughing at the ridiculous act just committed. My legs were quite sore after the jump - it hurts to bend my right leg and there's a bruise on my left shin. This is probably from the harness being too tight but I'd rather it was too tight than too loose...

After the jump was the swing and this looks rather more tame since you're harnessed and suspended in a mainly upright position. It is, however, the most terrifying. There's something absolutely unnatural about falling with your feet dangling below you and the acceleration is unworldly. My legs were tingling as I fell and I screamed 'NOOOOO' (but quietly so that, luckily, none of the other riders heard me). Once you're caught by the rope, it becomes much less terrifying and you're just swinging around, enjoying the amazing view.

The final of the three, the zipline, was the least worrying and terrifying and involved a gentle saunter across the river whilst harnessed to a slider on top of a rope from side of the Gorge to the bridge. If you're planning on doing the trio, I'd recommend doing the bungie jump before the swing - you'll enjoy it more.

After all was done, it was time for recovery in the bungie company's lounge - a plate of chips and a Fanta restored me to partial life. Finally, we watched the videos of our jumps - pretty amusing. My attempt to negotiate a lower price for each of our DVDs failed (possibly because one of the riders had already paid the full $45 for his DVD) and lacking cash, I didn't buy it. You'll all have to imagine what it looked like!

Dinner was at a traditional restaurant and was amazing - nchima (like the maize based ugali dough) and six different vegetables. Dessert was equally good, a vanilla milkshake from Steers. Zambia has eroded my bank balance and supply of dollars to unprecedented levels - it's unfortunate because I think it's a fairly cash rich country (as far as African countries go anyway). The taxi drivers here charge a surprising amount each trip and having had to go solo by myself a few times, I've been stung with the full near $10 fare. Trying to haggle fails because they operate some kind of price cartel - although walking along the road and flagging a taxi down yielded a lower fare than catching it from any of the main tourist hotspots.

This morning, Dan, Caroline, Tim and I took a short fifteen minute helicopter flight over the Falls. This was amazing because it offered a clear and holistic view of the entire Falls. The experience itself felt slightly rushed (the helicopter company clearly tries to minimise the turnaround time of their flights. I also wasn't lucky enough to have a window seat which meant that the majority of my photos have other people with cameras in them (or just the window pane of the helicopter). I won't bother describing it more since the photos will speak for themselves (see the photo section).

After the flight, we head to the bridge and the others went across to the Zimbabwean side. Not wanting to take the monetary hit, I stuck to the cheaper Zambian side, for which I already had a visa. Unfortunately, I asked after the Zambian immigration lady had given me an exit stamp. She wrote the words 'cancelled' over it with a blue biro, so my departure into Botswana tomorrow may be troublesome.

The spray from the Falls is unbelievable and I was glad to have worn waterproofs - being soaked within seconds. It's really something that has to be experienced and I'd recommend it to all.

It was a short and pleasant day into Lusaka, 104km and there wasn't a huge amount of pressure to race with most riders taking it easy. I took quite a few photos, enjoyed the cooler temperatures and generally chilled out.

Lusaka was much revered before we arrived for its two shopping malls which include a multiplex cinema, a Subway fast food restaurant and a huge Walmart-esque supermarket, a SuperSpar. With the thought of ice cream and Subway sandwiches on our minds, soon after we set up camp at the Chainama Hotel where we were staying, a group of riders journeyed to the Arcades Mall. My findings - well it was the Subway I know from home, in some form. There was no choice of bread (it was white or brown) and I was bemused to see a sticker on the counter 'Introducing Our Newest Vegetable: CUCUMBER!', besides the newly discovered elongate green vegetable they only had onions, tomatos and peppers. A pretty sparse sandwich but still pleasing to the palate.

After our sandwiches, we went for ice cream next door at a restaurant called Food Fayre, an astonishingly warm place - in fact, so warms that some of their stock was melting. Luckily the soft ice cream we had from the machine was still cold and dipped in caramel sauce, still delicious. After this, we milled about online for some time and then went to see Clash of the Titans (others also went to see Blindside). Some hilariously Hollywood moments but it was relaxing to sit in a comfortable chair and let my brain switch off.

That evening we went for drinks at a South African chain bar called Rhapsodys and I found one of my favourite cocktails - a chocolate martini! While alcohol or cocktail afficionados may denounce the purity of a martini with chocolate in it, I would heartily recommend it to anyone who is a fan of chocolate, milkshakes or even chocolate milkshakes. After that we took a ride to the other mall and had dinner at a Zambian Irish Pub - also part of a chain.

The next morning we did a repeat of the buffet breakfast trick and visited the Lusaka Golfview Hotel, a fancier business class hotel neighbouring ours. It cost nearly as much and perhaps was about 70% of the breakfast at the Sheraton in Addis - not a bad effort and I certainly filled up, eating four courses consisting of:
- Plate of fruit, yoghurt.
- 3 egg omelette, 2 boiled eggs, baked beans, potatos.
- Plate of pastries
- Bowl of cereal
Plus lots of juice and hot chocolate.

After some bike maintenance (my grand plan to swap my chains every two weeks so they would wear evenly failed because my spare chain rusted in my bag!), I travelled into town alone on a mission. It was refreshing to leave the false luxury of the malls and experience the genuine Lusaka city centre. Full of office buildings and lots of small shops, there are also two large markets - the town centre market and the Lusaka city market.

On a mission to find an item, details of which I can't divulge now into order to maintain the surprise, I visited both markets and spent a good couple of hours walking around and haggling. The final result was that of success - a relatively rare item which I didn't think most Africans would have need for. The markets were great fun - if you're milling around Lusaka, go visit them.

Running some other errands around town, I noticed that all the pharmacies smelt absolutely terrible in addition to being extremely busy. Medicine is a hot commodity in Zambia it seems and it was interesting to notice that the few pharmacies I visited were run by Indians. Asking for directions was also mildly confusing because they refer to traffic lights here (and I'm told in South Africa too) as 'robots'. I despair for the future where the best form factor for robots we can come up with resembles a stacked set of coloured light bulbs.

I stumbled across the ultimate in modern convenience (at least for the rugged adventurer-traveller), an internet cafe-barbershop. After getting my rest day shave, I made my way down the staircase to the internet cafe and plugged in my laptop with no time wasted. After stocking up on toilet paper and snacks for the next week, I walked up to the main road to take a bus back to the hotel. Having managed my time poorly, it was now 5:30pm and right in the middle of rush hour.

Luckily I found a seat on a fairly large minibus. The seats inside were arranged such that there were five seats across and an aisle running down where the fourth seat in each row would sit. In order to reach any of the rows, the person in that seat would have to stand up, fold up the seat and disembark. At first I started off in the frontmost of these folding seats and as people disembarked, had to move to the back of the bus to fill those seats. Eventually, while we were close to my stop, I had to fill a seat at the back. All was well until the man of average build next to me got off and was replaced by a woman of a much larger build. Only one word is apt to describe this - squished. Aside from the lack of space and the stagnant smell of body odour, the ride was fairly pleasant and I was happy that I disembarked at the correct spot to make it back to camp.

The bridge between Zambia and Zimbabwe, over the Zambezi River.
(View in high res)

My legs are hurting - we've done a lot of mileage this week and the rolling hills haven't helped. Yesterday was a shorter 124km and today was 148km. I tried tailing Jethro out of camp yesterday, with his permission but we were both passed by Dan, Stuart and Gisi at about ten kilometres, whilst climbing a hill.

Unable to keep up, I dropped off and tried to catch them again once I'd hit the top of the hill. Soon after, I caught Gisi who had also been dropped and together we both tried to get back into the fastest group. This was impossibly difficult. I pulled Gisi for most of 15 kilometres, with my head down and arms outstretched on my aerobars, pumping as hard as my legs would go and pushing my fatigued heart up to 90% of maximum and holding it there. Gisi, the mountain goat, was faster up the hills and would pull me up the last few hills as we got within fifty metres of the group.

When we were finally close enough, Gisi went all out. In an annoying deja vu moment, we were climbing again and I was dropped by Gisi. She made it to the group and I gave up on trying to catch them. Instead, I rode solo until I caught Rod and Juliana doing a more reasonable pace. Riding with them until lunch and for a short while after, I took the opportunity to take some much overdue photographs and take in the beautiful greenery that surrounds the road.

Camp last night was at something near 500 metres above sea level, a descent from the previous night. It was WARM, worsened by the humidity. For most of the afternoon, riders were sitting around in the shade, slumped on earth green camping chairs. I woke up several times overnight with water that condensed on the inside of my tent dripping on my skin.

Today's ride was a return back to the above average daily distance which we are now committed to cycle. A far 148km was coupled with a 1700m (but actually 1900m) climb over rolling hills and made for a near 8 hour day, a similar time to the 198km from a couple of days ago.

I struggled today and it was a case of survival. My legs didn't have what was necessary in them and I was not fast at all - leaving late but failing to catch up to anyone significantly fast. I found the morning quite tough, being surrounded by other riders and struggling to keep up with them. After lunch was superb though, cycling solo and not seeing another rider for literally hours at a time. I took in the scenery, rode at my own pace and enjoyed myself thoroughly.

Camp life today was eventful, consisting of a runny chocolate pudding for dessert, left over from the wonderful Nymo (spelling?) bars that Rod and Juliana made for Juliana's birthday. There was a bike donation ceremony to a local group of aid workers involving speeches and the locals singing and dancing.

After this, I joined Simon and Dave for the second of their night rides. Changing the batteries in my head torch helped immensely (it's like a floodlight now!) and we cycled a few kilometres up the road before turning around and going past camp to a small Coke stop where we met Erin and Ruben. Unfortunately they were out of drinks because of some strangely tight supply chain logistics.

The campsite we're at tonight is in the grounds of a Jehovah Witnesses' Kingdom Hall (whatever that entails) and luckily only one person received a copy of their leaflet. Normally I don't comment on toilet facilities but they've has become a large part of each rider's life. At most bush camps we have the shovel situation where we walk far into the distance, dig a hole, use the hole and then fill it back up. This has worked well apart from places where either there is little cover, or the ground is hard and impossible to dig and in places like Zambia where most of the country is covered in overgrown stomach-high grass.

In school camps similar to this, there are often primitive squat toilets. These are usually surprisingly clean but require fairly respectable aim. More advanced squat toilets are found at more organised campsites which have a porcelain baisin and sometimes even a flush. Finally, the Western style seated toilets have been present occasionally - often usable but sometimes worse than squatters, especially if the flush breaks.

In this camp, we have squatters which aren't so great - trying to use one at night was a dangerous affair, risking getting attacked by a million bugs attracted to my newly enbrightened headtorch. In addition, the walls aren't so well thought out, making balance and aim both quite difficult.

Human waste disposal aside, we'll be entering Lusaka tomorrow and most probably spending most of our time in an airconditioned mall eating fast food, ice cream and watching Hollywood movies. Hopefully they have clean and decent toilets!

The Tour D'Afrique is officially the world's longest bicycle race (this can be verified in the Guiness Book of World Records) and I'd like to offer some tips to anyone who is thinking of racing it in the years to come. These are based on my experiences and observations of the last 3 months and are based entirely on the current race format. At the beginning of the race there were 35 racers (IIRC) and at the time of writing less than 25 remain.

A brief explanation of how the race works in 2010
The Tour is split up into 96 individual stages (although this is 95 because of the extra rest day we had when the truck broke down) and each stage is raced individually. In addition to individual stages, there are a number of sections comprised of many stages - usually but not always from one capital city to the next. There are separate results for each stage, for each section and for the overall race.

Each day every racer, equipped with a timing button, will clock in and out upon leaving and arriving at camp respectively. Timing is to the nearest minute and stored for each stage. The riders are ranked by time, the winner being the rider with the shortest time. This gives rankings for individual stages, sections and the overall race. If not participating in the entire race, any Tour rider can choose to race particular sections and will appear in results for that section but not the overall race.

The race may not always taken the entire length of a stage and the Tour Race Director may choose to end the race earlier on days where for some reason or another it would be logistically implausible or even dangerous to race - i.e. border crossing days, or entering big cities. Occasionally for similar reasons entire stages are not raced and everyone is given the same time for that stage.

If a racer does not finish a stage for any reason, they are given a 12 hour time for that day. In addition, when calculating the overall results, each racer is given three grace days which cancel out their longest three stage times. Finally, there are several mandatory stages which are particularly difficult or long. These 'mando-days' are not considered when applying grace days. The winner of each mando-day is also given a 30 minute time bonus. In addition, any racer who finishes with EFI status intact is given a 6 hour time bonus.

Racing the Tour differs from merely riding it in many ways which I'll identify below.

1. Take Fewer Photos
Usually you'll need to slow down to take any decent photos, or even stop entirely. That's not generally an option if you're concerned about your time for the day or especially if you're riding with other people (see 3.). The racer's mentality is such that nothing may impede progress.

2. Eat Short Lunches
There is no mechanism for clocking out at lunch - this seems more of a technical failing on part of Tour D'Afrique rather than any deliberate race addition. However long you choose to stop and eat for counts as part of your overall time. This means that on days you are trying to rank well, you won't want to waste time eating. Some racers don't even stop for lunch, others will check in, grab some water and hit the road again. It's not fair but crucial when minutes matter.

3. Work Together
It's necessary and extremely beneficial to ride with other riders. On some stages (hills and dirt) this isn't always possible but on the longer road days it'll be the difference between ranking well and merely surviving the day. You'll save a lot of energy when drafting and in a 120 day long race, you'll hit the wall often - the more you can minimise energy loss, the better.

4. Pick Your Days
It's a long race - illness and exhaustion will probably strike at some point. No racer can race everyday without burning out and the best strategy seems to be to pick the days which you want to rank well. On the other days, it's still necessary to be fast (to maintain your overall standing) but you don't need to work at 90% in order to save an hour and rank high. On some days it's a case of survival - just trying to reach the end of the day.

Jethro, one of the fastest riders here, picks his days - on hilly days, where he is particularly fast, he'll go hard and blitz the competition. In between, he'll ride slower and recover. As for consistency, Rod and Juliana are consistently quick and will be as quick as the fastest racers on some day. They'll ride at a pace that is comfortable for them and as a result can maintain it day in and day out.

5. Choose Your Equipment Wisely
Mechanical failure is something that can be easily avoided by the right choice of equipment and a suitable array of spares. One of the fastest racers here was plauged by punctures because of his insistence of riding on extremely skinny tyres, even on the thorn littered dirt days.

In addition, cater to your strengths. If you're not so great on dirt, pick a bike that will make your job easier. It helps to have interchangeable parts - a Thudbuster seatpost for the dirt sections and a rigid seatpost for the paved sections. If you can, bring a suspension fork - you won't regret it. Most riders are on cyclocross bikes, or at least ride with drop bars - bring inline brake levers which can mount on the top of the bars as well as drop levers. Bring fat tyres for the dirt sections, they'll give you extra confidence which will make you faster.

6. Ride Safely
Crashing will probably end badly, resulting in lost days and 12 hour times or even having to leave the Tour. It's easy when racing to get carried away in the competitive spirit of it all and take unnecessary risks. I was extremely lucky when I crashed not to have to take time off but several other riders have been less fortunate.

7. Leave Late
A favourite tactic of racers is to leave (as a group) late from camp in the morning. In a group, it's easier to set a faster pace and catch slower racers - once you've caught someone who you left after, you've effectively beat them for the day. If you leave early and are able to maintain a fast enough pace, you won't get caught but there's a very real danger that you will get caught.

8. Don't Get Ill
This is easier said than done but illness will drag your race time up and make it much harder to finish the stage. Stomach issues may destroy your appetite and not being able to eat enough is a recipe for disaster. Likewise, having to stop regularly because of diarhoea will make it harder to be competitive. Nearly all of the racers have been ill at one time or another.

Given the option, I'd probably choose not to race the Tour if signing up again. While the race has been fun and if I finish, I can say that I've raced the longest bicycle race in the world, I'm not competitive enough of a racer to make it fully worth the sacrifice. I'm going to try and take more photos over the remaining five weeks while trying to maintain my number 10 rank. That said, racing, as well as EFI, is a great motivation on the harder stages.

If you think you can win the race, or even win a section, sign up to race. If you're more concerned with experiencing the African continent then stay as an expedition rider and perhaps race individual sections - it doesn't mean you have to cycle slower, just that you're not always in such a rush.

Yesterday afternoon, after 122km of cycling (only 80km of which was a race), we entered the country of Zambia. The ride until lunch was the race - Simon, Jacob and I rode fairly together. The shorter race stages are quite tense because everyone is so close together, any slip in effort and you're overtaken quickly. We slowed the pace slightly towards the end and Jethro came past in a hurry, less than three kilometres from the end of the race at lunch.

Entering Zambia was pretty straightforward (for everyone apart from Adam, who forgot his passport!) and the change of government has reduced the visa price for British citizens from $150 (last year) to the more reasonable $50. After crossing the border we rode another 20km to the town of Chipata where we exchanged money and I hunted for headphones to replace the broken pair I borrowed from Rick. It took a while but I hunted down some cheap Chinese headphones in the local market, plasticky and they sound like good headphones with the addition of someone scratching your eardrum with a pencil. For the 8,000 Kwacha price though ($1.76), I have no right to complain.

At camp, watching the rider board being written, it seemed like some kind of latent April Fool's prank when Tour Director Paul wrote the next day's distance of 197km up. Incredulous, it was confirmed at rider meeting that they had extended the stage so that we'd reach a village where some number of riders would get the chance to live in homestays with genuine Zambian families, sleeping and eating dinner with them.

Fearful of the unknown and with the song 'Fear of the Dark' by Iron Maiden stuck in my head, I went to bed contemplating the feasibility of cycling the furthest single distance of my life. Waking up this morning I was surprised to feel excited, perhaps having reawakened the adventurer within. Taking my time to leave, I left late and went hard for the first 15km, overtaking quite a few riders. Realising that this pace was unsustainable for the day, I slowed down quite considerably. A couple of groups passed by - Jethro, Frans and Tony (who was making extra effort for his 50th birthday, today) and Simon drafting Tim. Unwilling to catch them, I spun on and was eventually caught by Paul.

We reached lunch via a Coke (or Fanta) stop, paused for sandwiches and continued on. Lunch was at 85km today, less than halfway - an overbearing fact which probably helped make the day seem more intense. I chose to interpret the distance remaining (112km) as a separate stage, which worked well apart from the preexisting 3h 30m worth of riding fatigue in my legs. The next 65 kilometres were fairly unremarkable aside from a blue coloured butterfly flying into my jersey via the zip. Itmanaged to fly out apparently unharmed, shocking me in the process.

The children here are unrelentless and constantly ask 'How are you?'. At first we replied but it quickly became clear that most kids will continue to parrot out the question regardless. Even if they stop, one of the dozens of surrounding children will continue to ask. According to a woman who works for the Peace Corps here, this is a cultural artifact - when greeting here, it is natural to greet every single person in a group individually - hence replying to one child is not enough, you need to reply to every child. Later on in the ride, we simply started replying 'tired' to the question and apparently riders who came past later were asked if they were tired.

At about 130km, my legs started getting tired, probably from a lack of energy. We were supposed to have a refresh stop (more water and energy bars) at 150km but we accidentally cycled past it - the 4x4 that we were expecting wasn't there and we missed the staff member sitting in the bushes. Stopping at 155km, Paul and I had a couple of warm cokes and continued on. The last 10 kilometres into camp were the most painful, and our speed dropped from about 27kmph to 22kmph. The finish flag was standing, waiting on the road, at 197km as promised and turning off the road, we were home for the night. The second hardest day of riding so far to our day through Dinder and it was wonderful. I haven't felt this exhausted for quite some time and it feels good.

0510: Yawn. I'm packing my sleeping bag into its sack. The ground is damp outside. There's no running water at the hotel/campsite and the toilets we have available to use are a horrific mess. I'm taking my inhaler and overclocking my body for the ninth day in a row, trying to compensate for my lifelong mild asthma.

15km: It's early in the morning, Adam and I are riding together, fast. With only this day to finish before the section is complete, we're both eager to maintain our sectional rank of 4th (me) and 6th (Adam) overall. We're trying not to gain any extra riders as we overtake group after group by sprinting as hard as we can each time we pass. After the third sprint we need to slow down - pushing so hard has left us breathless and weary. With no more groups in sight, we draft each other, each leading for five minute intervals before switching with the other.

35km: Adam decides he's unable to maintain the pace we've been doing. We cut back to about 70% of our previous speed. The wind has picked up and is doing it's Malawian trick of rotating between head-on and side-on. Occasionally the grey clouds shower us with drizzle, the spray from the road slowly soaking my jersey. I'm glad that my MP3 player and camera are well wrapped in own-brand Ziploc (tm) bags.

40km: One of the many children standing by the side of the road yells out 'give me money!'. I ask him, 'why?'. There was no audible response (but we were travelling at some speed above 25kmph).

50km: 20km until lunch. It's PVM bar time. Caramel nut. With a quarter of the bar left to go, it's my turn to lead and I'm struggling to breathe as I speed up to overtake Adam. It only takes another thirty seconds to chew the remainder of the bar.

73km: Lunch arrives, we've just overtaken Rod and Juliana and been overtaken by Stuart and Gisi. There are quite a few riders at lunch, we purposefully left quite late in the morning. It doesn't seem like many riders are racing hard today but there's no sign of Jethro or Tim who cleared lunch earlier. Nothing too amazing for lunch today, although there's an appreciated reappearance of wholewheat bread which Jen dutifully slices for the other riders. Adam doesn't want to leave in a hurry so I go on alone and wait for Stuart and Gisi to catch up.

80km: It's hard work in the wind. I'm struggling to get anywhere near 25kmph on some sections of road. My stomach is rumbling. The single sandwich I ate doesn't appear to have satisfied my appetite, understandably.

83km: Stuart and Gisi catch up. Stuart suggests we each pull for 5 minutes and leads us on. It still feels windy but with the draft we're easily going 5kmph faster.

95km: Gisi finishes her pull after ten minutes and Stuart comments 'guess we'll pull for 10 minutes now'. She rotates round and I'm at the front now.

110km: We're getting closer to the capital city of Malawi. Every so often there are eight flags lining a twenty metre section of road, four on each side. The traffic is heavier and we're sometimes pushed onto the side of the road.

121.5km: We hit our first roundabout of the day and the beginning of the only real navigation we need to do. It's straight over this one and soon after there is heavy traffic blocking the road. We slow down considerably and cautiously filter through the traffic (the truck incident leaving Arusha still memorable).

124km: We're stuck in traffic behind a bread van with the slogan 'Choices Bakery - Where success is always one step ahead of us.'

1105/133km: The finish flag is in sight. It's a quick sprint to the dinner truck's trailor which is home to the timing device. It takes a couple of button presses but my finish time is eventually registered. Stuart signs in but Gisi waits a few minutes, trying to give him second for the section (having made up time by winning the earlier mando-day and hence receiving a 30 minute time bonus).

1350: My tent has been set up, I've showered, eaten an egg club sandwich and finished watching yet another terrible (romantic?) comedy movie. My head is weary from the last sleepless night (Easter in this country is also celebrated as some kind of harvest festival with genuine discotheques, one of which was held in our hotel/campsite) and it's time for a nap. Pitching up my tent under a tree was a wise move and despite the overwarmth outside, it's pleasant enough to sleep. I fall asleep quickly.

1500: I wake up in a daze from a heavy, deep slumber. It's warmer now than earlier, the sun has come out. I grab a PVM bar (lemon & lime) and walk to the bar, trying not to trip. While eating the bar I accidentally bite my tongue.

1530: A group of riders were heading into town looking for Nandos and I hopped in, riding shotgun in the back of a local's Toyota pickup truck. After visiting an ATM, I spend half of my newly acquired cash on a veggie burger and peri peri chips. We're in Malawi, and eating at Nandos. Frickin' amazing.

1610: Jason and I are searching for ice cream in the Metro Cash & Carry. It's like some kind of wholesaler and there are fridges full of drinks and food littered around the supermarket. None of them seem to be particularly cold inside though. Perhaps this is a new selling tactic. The ice cream doesn't look appetising but I walk out with six packets of biscuits and a 100g bar of Cadbury's chocolate to last me through the next section.

1720: The section results are out, I'm third for the men's race. A hard couple of weeks racing and it's come to some sort of fruitful conclusion written in black marker on a drywipe whiteboard.

1750: It's time for the fifth meal of the day, campsite dinner. A pleasant Thai green curry served with a plateful of rice goes down quickly.

2030: After discussing the milkshakes available at Steers, a South African (I think) fast food chain, we finally snap and get in the taxi that is conveniently already at camp. Stomachs all rumbling a bit, Dan orders a pizza, Jason a burger and I have fries. Many delicious pseudo-milkshakes (lacking genuine milk) are consumed.

The Tour experienced (collectively) a strange feeling last night, something we haven't felt for quite some time - we were cold. After the last few muggy weeks in Malawi, Tanzania and Kenya, sleeping bags were given a purpose again and the night's sleep was pleasantly sweatless. We climbed yesterday, only a couple of thousand metres (not as much as our first mando-day in Ethiopia) but over steep rolling hills and it was demarked as another mando-day.

I'm not much of a climber, in fact, on every ride (ever) I'm always left behind on each hill. Hopefully, since the trip began, I've become better/faster - the ascents in Ethiopia were not to be taken lightly. Yesterday, ranking well for this section so far (4th overall, 3rd for the men and 1h 16m ahead of Jethro, the next highest ranking racer after me), I gave the climbs all my energy. It was problematic, I had drivetrain problems when using the small chainring and any of the middle 8 gears (out of the 10 total) on my cassette. This meant that for the most part I had to use the bigger chainring and then tactically shift into the smallest chainring only when I had reached the largest (or easiest) gear on the cassette. Not insurmountable but it made my legs work hard.

Going hard in the morning, I heard the truck beep behind me. It wasn't directly behind but some distance - it was beeping at another rider. Looking back, I saw a red blur and tried to guess who it was. Soon enough, Jethro came past, not much faster than I was but enough to disappear out of sight within a good minute. A minute later the grey clouds that had been hovering above opened fire, gently spraying us with misty rain. Naturally, my el-cheapo Cateye Velo 8 cycling computer (£13 from Chain Reaction Cycles) gave up the ghost and at 36km, I was the cycling tour equivalent of blind. When the only information you have for the day is a distance, losing your odometer renders you to nothing but a brute force cyclist, forced to merely pedal on in the hope of sometime reaching camp.

I powered on, the rain stopped and Frans overtook me on a climb, shouting 'REMEMBER SUNIL! HIGH CADENCE! HIGH CADENCE!' as always. I yelled back 'I'm trying but no more gears!', cursing my choice of a narrow road racing cassette. Further along the road, lunch arrived. A quick sandwich (tomato and lettuce but NO CHEESE!) and water refill later and I was back tackling the stage, legs feeling like jelly.

The majority of the climbing was over before lunch and the afternoon was composed of some beautiful descents. At one point the road descended into an open plain where there was no shelter from the wind. The crosswind that had been playfully pushing us all day was now unobstructed and it was a fight to keep the bike on the correct side of the road - at one point I was shoved all the way to the right hand side.

Many annoying rumble strips later (Simon commented some time ago, 'whoever invented these rumble strips should be tied to the bottom of a car and driven over them'), camp at a primary school arrived. An astounding African sunset gave way to an equally astounding night sky and it was intriguing to observe the stars from the southern hemisphere in such clear detail.

Today's day was considerably easier, considerably quicker and considerably more downhill. An overall descent of 1039m and ascent of 555m, it was much less taxing and a lot of people were out to race this (either that or they wanted a room at the Inn we're staying at - usually first come first serve). I tried riding alone this morning but soon was unable to overtake some of the sectional riders (who aren't racing but like to antagonise us racers trying to overtake regardless). Ten minutes after overtaking Gerald and Jos, I saw the shadow of a rider approaching on my right - they'd caught up again! Greeting them, Gerald was completely out of breath and they quickly disappeared again.

Just before lunch came round, Paul and new Jos caught up, we rode the last 15km to lunch together, my legs feeling pretty sore from the previous couple of hard days riding alone. Celebrating Easter (or perhaps just a happy coincidence), lunch involved fried eggs and I had to have the mandated two sandwiches. As we ate, Jen came in, looking like she was about to explode again (a sign that she was going for the stage again).

Jen, Paul and I rode the remaining 52km together, taking it as fast as we dared. With less thn 25km to go, we reached a fairly long but gentle climb and tried to maintain a decent speed (~27kmph) up it. My muscles were burning and the geniuses who programmed the shuffle function on my Sandisk Sansa somehow managed to get R.E.M. - Everybody Hurts to play, apt indeed.

With 20km to go, Jen, a hobbyist spin class instructor and often Ms. Motivator, pushed us forwards with a 'lets go boys!'. At 10km, she pushed us on again 'let's go! only 10k!'. At 5k, sprinting distance, 'go for it!'. It worked and we rode into camp nice and early, arriving just before 10am, with the whole of Easter sunday free.

On the assumption that the shops in town would be shut, I'm staying around camp, having drunk three Fantas, napped for an hour on the lawn and finished watching a movie I started last night. The ants here are huge and move extremely quickly - one was trapped in my tent earlier and trying to set it free was an entertaining game in itself. With fifteen minutes until rider meeting followed by dinner, I think it's time for another cold soda.

It's amazing how quickly time goes. It seems like a lot less than two weeks ago that we were in Arusha but there we go. We've only got six weeks left and that's pretty much the time we had between terms at Easter when at Cambridge - our shortest vacation. In fact, until Lilongwe, there are only three riding days left (one down today) and until the first rest day in Zambia, another five riding days. From here to our duo of rest days at Victoria Falls, only another three riding days. After Zambia we'll hit Botswana and there are some tough days coming - five 160km days, a rest day and then a five day week beginning with a 207km stage! Another three days, a couple of five day sections and then we're in Cape Town.

Whenever anything is so obviously compartmentalised, it becomes seemingly trivial - while I don't doubt the intensity of some of the upcoming stages, there is a clear, bright light at the end of the tunnel. Irrespective of what happens in the next 1.5 months, the end is going to get here quickly and my thoughts are straying to the long summer of 2010. If anyone is planning on entering any team 24 hour mountain bike races and needs a rider, drop me a line!

The ride out of Chitimba was tough and for the first time in a while my quads are surprisingly sore (a call to action for the tube of fake Deep Heat lying in my bag). The morning started with a half kilometre walk through the sandy lane out to the road and a flattish 16km to THE CLIMB. The climb was a 10km ascent of 650m, not as bad as the Blue Nile Gorge but not to be underestimated either. Riding out from camp with Paul, we picked up Jethro, Tim and Kelsey. As we hit the climb, Jethro and Tim moved into their superhuman hill climbing mode and I tried to hold their rear wheels. This worked for about a kilometre before my cardiovascular system blew up as I shifted gears to keep up. My chain disliked gears 3 and 4 on my cassette (where 1 is the easiest / biggest) and I lost some ground. Trying to catch up the twenty metres I lost pushed my heart rate up into the unsustainable 90-95% range and I dropped back when my stomach started feeling like it was on fire and full of ice at the same time. Maybe next time.

To my relief, no one caught me on the rest of the climb and it was soon a case of upwardly rolling hills with a tailwind. My stomach started rumbling at 60km and I had my eyes peeled for lunch. Evidently I wasn't looking hard enough because it got to 75km and I hadn't seen it yet. At 80km I looked at my camera to double check I hadn't missed a turn and was doubly confirmed by the underexposed image taken the previous night and by Eric Dufour overtaking me. At 86km, out of water (timed to run out at 75km) and feeling ravenously hungry, I stopped at a roadside shop and bought three Fantas and a Sprite, filling up both my bottles (insides now stained purple for some reason). The headwind picked up and a PVM bar, I rolled into another roadside shop (well skidded, forgetting that my brakes are now adjusted to work) and bought five more icy cold Fantas, putting four in my bottles and drinking the fifth with such vigor that I suffered brain freeze.

Hitting the road again, it was a 25km slog through rolling hills that only seemed to go upwards. As the day's distance approached, I was on edge, looking for the documented turns with wider eyes than when I skipped past lunch. Less than a kilometre from camp, Stuart caught up and we rode into the Mzuzu Lodge together. A hard day was over and the only side effect of drinking nine sodas appeared to be a mild headache which quickly dispersed.

A batch update because I've been busy planning April's Fools and going around the remaining riders to get their responses to our survey. After the first quick day into the Forest Camp (where results confirm Paul and I were ranked second and third with the same time), we rode the next 130km day together.

It was a long day but the tailwind and gentle descent (over several rolling hills) made it much easier. We were going hard, at the same pace as the previous day, but it appears everyone else decided to race the day too and soon after we reached lunch Jen arrived, red faced and looking as if she wasn't going to stay long. I learnt my lesson from the previous day's lunch and only took one sandwich (although managed to consume nearly five glucose sweets). The Indaba crew mentioned that Ruben had gone through quite some time earlier and hadn't even stopped for lunch - merely yelling out his rider number as he cycled past. We left pretty swiftly and rode at the same pace all afternoon.

About 5k before camp, Jen caught up with us, looking like she was about to explode. Not wanting any assistance (admirable) she powered on ahead and beeped in minutes before we did. Ruben was already sitting at camp with an air of fatigue, later we found out that both he and Jen had won the stage. Another new stage winner and for Ruben, another yellow plate to hang on his wall. This bush camp was pretty amusing, being situated near the grazing ground for local herds of cattle. While we were pitching our tents, one medium sized herd came out running. Several riders watched on in horror as cows weighing several hundred kilos came within milimetres of their bikes and tents.

We were at altitude and the weather was gorgeously cool. Compared to the heat of Tanzania, it was a welcome relief and made sleeping just a little bit easier. By the early hours of morning, it gave my sleeping bag reason for existence again and I found myself covering up. My Thermarest has been slowly leaking for several weeks now and it didn't help that the ground was rocky that night. My natural instinct is to roll over and sleep on my side, letting my arm take the strain of the uneven surface. This works well apart from causing my shoulders to ache for most of the next day.

The next day we rolled towards Mbeya, the closest large Tanzanian town to the Malawian border. The problem with being fast on a day with a headwind is that people soon pick up this fact and tag along. Within twenty kilometres of leaving camp, Paul and I had picked up a paceline seven riders long. One of the new additions to our riding group was Michael, another young British rider, who was surprisingly quick when leading at the front of the group. We rode quickly until lunch, being the second group to pass through.

It's a shame everyone was rushing that day because lunch was excellent - french toast and bacon - but not quite ready. We managed to grab a scrambled egg sandwich in time to see several other riders ride past lunch (Marcel, Stuart and Gisi and Rick!). Jumping back on our bikes, the paceline continued for another 15 kilometres until we hit the climb st 75 kilometres. A 1200 metre climb over the remaining twenty kilometres, it quickly broke up the group. Simon powered on ahead and the rest of us leapfrogged each other for a while.

Arriving into Mbeya, we camped out at Stockholm hotel, a pleasant African hotel about 9km from the centre of the town. It was nice and early, before noon, and in the afternoon, several of us took a matatu into town to find food, icecream and internet access. A pretty unremarkable town, aside from the odd fact that some how all the TDA riders managed to converge on the same internet cafe despite there being at least five or six internet cafes in the centre of town.

On our return to camp, we had our staple dinner of spaghetti bolognaise and the most genius-like icecream vendor I have ever seen pedalled up to the hotel courtyard just as people were finishing their plates. Although he only had two varieties of icecream (plain ol' ice lollies or some kind of fruit flavoured Magnum lookalike) riders went crazy. When I checked that night, Jason had only reached five icecreams, failing to beat his previous day best of six, set in Dodoma.

This was our last night in Tanzania and the day crossing the border was not a race day - a fact I am very thankful to the TDA staff about. It was a beautiful day of cycling, possibly the best day of cycling yet on the tour and just beautiful. It wasn't short, nor easy - the stage was 120km long (106km in Tanzania and the remainder in Malawi), starting off with a large climb, rolling down some and then climbing again. The last half of the day was pretty much a gradual descent. Overall the day was approximately 1,000 metres of climbing and 2,000 metres of descending - the largest descent yet (perhaps another reason why it wasn't a race day).

We woke up and it was cloudy - or foggy even. At that altitude we were pretty much inside a cloud and the first climb took us several hundred metres above the cloud layer, making for a beautiful view and some great photos (although not mine: this little Samsung camera sucks). The descent into lunch was smooth, rapid and only marred by the ridiculous mini speed bumps (grouped in fives) that are littered metres before big speed bumps and after them. The hills were rolling but the descent made it easy to roll over them, I don't remember my speed dropping below 25kmph on many of the inclines.

After lunch, I rode with Jason, Paddy and Ruben for some distance. We all have aero bars on our bike and on one of the descents we all put our heads down and tucked in, freewheeling for many kilometres. The only way to describe this would to be to aliken it to soaring, in the same way that birds seem to. We held perfect formation as we rolled around gradual corners, listening only to the hum of the road and the whoosh of the wind. Magical and one of my top moments of the trip so far.

The border crossing was easy, we passed a famous British television star, Paul , apparently the voice of Bob the Builder, who was also crossing into Malawi. Malawi is a pretty typical tropical country and apparently nearly every tropical disease you can imagine is alive and well in this country. It's also warm and humid, worse than many of the previous countries because of the increased humidity. We're also at a lower altitude which has upped the temperature. They don't speak Swahili here anymore, so my slight competitive advantage when ordering drinks (or perceived competitive advantage) has been whittled away to the mere sign language level.

Our first night we stayed at a bush camp next to a local village. Just like Ethiopia we were surrounded by lots of locals - Malawi is apparently one of the poorest countries in Africa, with a GNP per capita close to $800. Every so often we'd hear a wave of screams as the local children would run away from the stick-wielding guards we'd employed for the night. I had set up my tent with the rain fly on, anxious of the rain. As soon as I climbed into my tent though, I climbed out and removed the fly - it was unbearably hot inside. That night I slept without my sleeping bag, shirtless and skin damp with sweat.

At 11pm there was a huge crash. Lightning lit up the sticky night sky and a few seconds later there were loud bangs. Suddenly the camp became of flurry of activity as riders hurried to put their rain flies on. Sometime later (I'm unsure of the exact period since I was in a half state of slumber) the rain started and it was heavy. The drops were the size of grapes, making a loud hammering sound as they hit the roof of my tent in turn.

That morning I ventured out to find a well shielded and peaceful spot to use the toilet. I found the perfect place, undiscovered by any of the other riders and safely hidden from view. On the way back to camp, I stepped in a large, seemingly fresh, pile of cow dung. Returning after breakfast, with a new set of shoes, I was conscious of the perilous surface and had my eyes wide open. Obviously I wasn't properly aware because I managed to step into the same inviting pile, with the same foot but a different pair of shoes. On this trip I only have the two pairs of shoes and they are both now soiled. Superb.

That day we rode to Chitimba beach along the Malawian highway that runs parallel to the 800km Lake Malawi. We stopped in the morning to raid a supermarket - sixty riders each bought several days' supply of biscuits and snack food (apples, for the first time in a while, were readily available and hence popular). This easy thirty kilometres discounted, the remaining ninety kilometres into camp was a slog through a heavy headwind. It appeared that the local vegetation was immune to the wind since they barely moved.

I rode with Paul until 15 km after lunch when we caught Rod and Juliana. I rode with them until about 10 kilometres before the camp and then rode in alone. It was very helpful to have the draught available and luckily the headwind died down nearer to camp. The sandy track into camp was especially challenging, seeming to be populated with traps under the surface that would grab your front wheel and throw you from your bike. I fell off a couple of times, convinced that I'd be able to ride it and eventually giving up. Several other riders also went over their handlebars or were flung off sideways.

Reaching camp though, a protein shake, chocolate bar, cold Fanta and cold shower later, I was ready to begin planning the night's activities. April 1st is my favourite day of the year - my mother used to play pranks on my sister and I as a child and throughout university we engineered some pretty epic pranks on our corridor-mates. Brainstorming with Sam and Dave (American riders), we decided to wake up at 2:30am and mount some of the riders' bikes on trees. This worked almost flawlessly except for the fact that Sam, the experienced tree climber of our group, was not in a state to climb trees when we woke him up. He instead gave Dave and I moral support as we lifted Paddy's, Rick's, Steph's, Paul's and Steve's bike frames and wedged them in between branches.

The second part of my April's Fools onslaught was to play the call to prayer song (sung by all Mosques in Africa at 5am) over the truck's stereo system. When I woke up at 5am, it was raining heavily, and some line of logic decided to overpower the sense of humour in my brain - I stayed in bed and woke up two hours later when it was much too late. Next year I guess!

(Addendum, I was caught yesterday and forced to pay for the wi-fi after acquiring the password from someone else. Today they changed the password from 'chitemba1' to 'chitemba2'. Intuition saved me from having to pay the extortionate price twice.)