There isn't much noise around, only the occasional coughing of another rider, or the sound of a truck passing by. It's 8:30pm Sudanese time, past the bedtime of most riders. Just a few moments ago I was lying down on my sleeping bag staring up through the mesh wall of my tent at possibly the most stunning night sky I have ever seen. We're still in the middle of the desert on our way towards Khartoum (the capital city of Sudan), with two more days of cycling to go. There is nothing but desert and road sight, the only permanent structure is a bamboo shelter cum water point besides which we are camped.

Having lived in a light polluted commuter town near London for most of my life, before university I had never really appreciated the beauty of a starry night. As winter drew in and I walked through the grounds of Fitzwilliam college to my room, I would glance up and notice the sky. Since then, I've had the opportunity to check out the night sky around the world (Alaska: great, Nepal: average, Mombasa: great) but this takes the win. The sheer quantity of visible stars and their relative brightness is unbelievable. If I don't sleep tonight, I think I will be easily amused.

We rode another hard 140km today. This was the second day that the intended race timing system was underway, where each rider clocks in and out using a small radio enabled tag and touching a start/finish sensor mounted to the dinner truck. People have realised the benefit of starting early and I was far behind the curve when I woke up at my usual time and packed up my tent, having to queue for a good fifteen minutes to load my locker up. When I left camp, I was one of the last few riders out, so I put my music on and prepared for a long solo day.

Not more than 10km in though, I was caught up by the leading peloton, the group of riders who have consistently reached camp first. I thought I'd tag along for a while and it was going great - they go scarily fast but in a group it is much easier to keep up. For the distance I rode with them, they'd be powering on at a decent 37kmph average. Adrian, the current race leader, keeps his rear light on for safety reasons. It also doubles up as a marker of some point, as I discovered when, whilst I rode on his tail, he reached the front and started pulling. All was fine until we reached a downhill section and he took it up to 50kmph. That's not impossible speed but I was spinning as hard as possible in my hardest gear whilst watching my heart rate reach 95% of my maximum and still could not keep up. As I dropped out of the group, I saw Adrian's red light disappear into the distance to be seen again only at camp.

I then rode with the second fastest group until lunch and struggled after lunch to return to that sort of pace (too many sandwiches?). Sam, the closest rider in age to me at 21, also found the pace of his group a bit too fast and we rode in some kind of sporadic formation until camp. My saddle sores are supposedly on the mend but still hurt *a lot*, on occasion tinging with a sharp intense pain (imaginably similar to being stabbed), so I'd try and stand often to relieve the pressure.

Camp has been pretty relaxed this afternoon, sitting in the shade and eating custard creams. I am down now to 12. I was alos disappointed that my orange band from the New Year's Eve party we attended finally broke off, not lasting until next December 31st as I had hoped. An entire month isn't too bad though.

Accompanied by a beating drum
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