Round and round we go

6-Feb-2011

Day Total: 87km
Total Time:
Avg. HR:
Avg. Speed:
Song of the Day:

The campsite was a hive of bike maintenance activity as final preparations were made by riders for the first full stage of off-road riding. Many changed tires, swapped spares from their bags, and a few even swapped forks from rigid to suspension. As for me, I put the biggest tires I had on the bike. These were mountain bike specific tires meant to provide decent traction and with their size, plenty of cushioning from bumps in the road.

Beginning with 14km of pavement, the course was described as dirt with a little sand and a lot of what they call corrugation. It’s really just a fancy word for a washboard road, but upon reflection, corrugation provides the right elements of mystery, seriousness, and complexity that leaves one with the feeling that one might be about to get into some shit. Alas, I get ahead of myself…

Paul and I left camp after most of the other riders/racers, the race group in particular choosing to fragment for this stage as there are few advantages – and little space – to trying to ride in a peloton. We made good time early on, and with favorable dirt roads (i.e. smooth and sand free), we held a very steady, quick pace for the first 10km on the dirt. About that time, Paul rode around a rock, I went to follow, his skills let him succeed, my lack of meant I failed. In the end, I clipped the rock at about 30km/h with my right pedal and which basically sent me flying forward off of the bike. I hit the dirt hard, slid on the ground, but landed without breaking anything. A few small abrasions and a bit of an ache in my right hip were all I had to show for it. We checked the bike over and 2 minutes later were on our way. It was good to have him there to urge me along as it meant no time was wasted with unnecessary drama around the fall.

The dirt road paralleled a railroad line and as we turned out of the small village, the horizon opened before us with the tracks disappearing in the distance. We moved back and forth across the road to try and find the best and smoothest line. A car was approaching towards us and at this point the road narrowed to effectively a single lane, car-width dirt path with two dirt tracks formed from where truck tires repeatedly wore away the soil. I moved to my left, up towards the railroad tracks to avoid the car. I felt the front wheel give in a camouflaged patch of dirt and dust and before I knew it my front wheel was sideways and I was catapulting into the ground. I landed on my right side/hip, again, and this one really hurt. The type of blow that takes your breath away and makes you think, man, I just got jacked up. Again I got up, again Paul helped me check the bike, but I knew immediately that this one was going to stick with me for several kilometers and with that I sent Paul on his way to chase the leaders and hopefully win the stage. Me, I drank some water, caught my breath and mentally prepared myself for the remaining distance.

As I was about to set off again, Bastiaan caught up to me and insisted on cleaning up the wound on my elbow. His filed medicine routine began with the application of an aerosol disinfectant and ended with a pretty tidy dressing of the wound to keep the dirt off of it for the remainder of the day. In between, I yelled at the top of my lungs as the disinfectant seemingly seared my skin. Opting to believe that the fire-on-the-skin sensation meant the spray was doing its job, I bit my tongue and mounted up to ride again.

At this point, I was resigned to just surviving the day in one piece. The terrain remained relatively featureless and soon enough I caught up to women’s race leader Tori changing her 5th flat tire of the day. I pumped up her tire in exchange for a proper English Mars bar. I think I got the better of the deal! She and I rode together at a good clip to the 55km mark when it was my turn to join the legion of flat tire fans on the day. 5km before lunch I took a deep breath and changed the front tire before a constantly growing audience. The local police helped keep the masses at a moderate distance while I finished my tire change. They were laughing excitedly as I put my pump back into my hydration pack and I quickly found out why: my rear tire was now flat as well. Argh, the dreaded double flat. No matter, I brought two spares. An easy change and I was rolling again, thankful that lunch was an easy 5km jaunt.

Arriving at lunch, the heat of the Sudan was back in full effect with the temperature now at 100 degrees. I used the proper pump to fully inflate my tires while drinking a lot of fluids and taking a leisurely lunch. My spirits were bolstered slightly when I learned that the day’s ride would be shortened 13km to accommodate camp logistics. They were bolstered further after hearing other rider’s tribulations on the day – many, many riders had 4+ flats; by comparison, I was in good shape with 2.

Off I rode from lunch, and it is worth mentioning that it was now really, really hot. There were a few river crossings where a dismount was required as one carried their bike across a narrow bridge consisting of exposed railroad ties and the tracks. Sweat in my eyes, I nearly fell off the bridge – with bicycle – into the river but regained my balance as I leaped to solid ground. Too close for comfort and not pleasurable given how my ribs were feeling. Soon enough I had another flat. Out of good spare tubes, I was in patch mode at this point, so out came the patch kit. I thoroughly inspected the tube and tire and found the culprit thorns. Patch, inflate, and wait, what’s that sound? Another bleeping leak? Alas, it’s true and I find another hole. At this point, the heat – at 110 degrees Fahrenheit – was preventing the patches from adhering properly. This left me only one strategy for the final 20km: pump and run.

Inflate the tire as quickly as possible and then ride like hell. Repeat every 2 to 3km. Well, this is fun, isn’t it? With about 12km to go I approached the town of Dinder. I figured what the hell, maybe they had a proper pump in that town that would allow me to go 4 or 5km. Additionally, the prospect of a cold beverage was appealing so without much ado, I hopped off the bike and took to the town by foot. A busy place I caught many interesting glances, a few hellos, and a lot of smiles. I found the first shop, stepped up to the counter and in the time it took me to get out my money a semi-circle of people 3 deep enveloped me. I purchased two drinks and everyone laughed. I opened up the first and they laughed again. I chugged the first in one gulp start to finish and they went silent. Ha! That gave them something to think about. But then I belched and they all erupted in laughter. I put the second drink in my bag and was a little unsure on how to make my exit so I shook about 30 hands and parted the crowd. I kept walking to enjoy the remainder of the town and as I neared the bridge marking the edge of the town my way was barred by a heard of goats. I laughed – it seemed an appropriate delay for this day…

Our Sudanese rider for the trip hailed me as the goats cleared – on his skinny road tires he flatted and had no pump. I loaned him my pump and gasped as he prepared to change his tire with a flathead screw driver. Make do with what you have I guess. As he finished, he explained that he was done with these roads, would stay in Dinder for the night and go back to Khartoum the next day. I could empathize.

A couple of more pumping sessions would get me within spitting distance of camp while giving me an opportunity to feel the oppressive power of the Sudanese mid-day sun. I walked a few circles in the middle of the road to take it all in: I was in the middle of nowhere in Sudan, hotter than at any point in my existence, pumping a tire for the 7ht time today, talking out loud to nobody. At least I was having fun.

Camp arrived none too soon – a hot, arid patch of land with nothing around it. I ditched the mountain bike tires in favor of a narrower but vastly more puncture resistant tire (Schwalbe Marathon Plus). My body hurts, my wounds are cleaned and the heat is killing me. Two more days of off-road await before 3 more days of road riding to Gondor. On the day, 4 riders would have 6 or more flats with Tori taking first prize at 10. Thorns – they’re everywhere on this route.