Round and round we go

Stage: 52
Day Total: 103 km
Total Time: 3:43
Avg. Speed: 27.7 km/h
Avg. Heart Rate: 117bpm
Total Climbing: 255m

Song of the Day: Radiohead – 15 Step

The pre-dawn hours saw a continuance of the heavy rains that graced last night’s dinner. Forcefully it arrived and the noise generated by its presence as it lingered over our camp was enough to awaken me from one of the better night’s sleep I have enjoyed on tour. The disruption, or rather the humor it provided as campers frantically reacted, was worthwhile. I wish nobody any ill will – but the vision of lightly dressed individuals dancing in the rain in vain attempts to overcome forces of nature is more than slightly comical.

Today’s ride, as advertised during the rider meeting, would offer a mixed bag of terrain with the second half suggesting at least the potential for some more fun on the dirt. With high hopes, flagging motivation for the toil of the race, but at least on a very clean bicycle (thanks to the afternoon labor of washing the bike down by the river), we set off for lunch with a group of 8 for a 60km stroll to the lunch truck. No surprises: the road was flanked by endless rolling green hills to the right and left with large ominous clouds gathering overhead to discuss their plans for late day rains. Scenic as it was it could not fully overcome the monotony of another stage on pavement, riding with the same people, without conversation. Thus, I chose to lose myself in my thoughts, jumping between calculating the total number of bodies of water from which I’ve caught fish in my lifetime and determining the best sized living space for the next 4 years. Odd? Yes. Productive? Not really. Effective? Indeed. On the horizon was the lunch truck.

We lingered as a group, enjoying some fruit and sandwiches. The threat of the unknown had Paul Wolfe subtly leaving camp to cover as much ground at an easy pace as time would allow. The group had other ideas and Jorge, UK Paul, and myself quickly joined him. The road forked at the lunch truck with our right marked to the right, forging ahead onto a dirt road. The little intel we received at lunch suggested that what we saw was what we would get all the way to camp. Well, well, well, this could be promising. But alas, this road was smooth, with a hard sandy center strip that meant moisture drained well from it and did not hinder speed.

And on we sped. It may as well have been paved as we averaged 30km/h for the next 70 minutes of riding, the flatness of the road contributing to the accelerated pace. The rains continued to lie in waiting as we sped through small villages and collections of farms. I kept a keen eye out for wildlife and was rewarded with a mongoose sighting. The games of the peloton continued as we continued to increase our speed with no hope – and no help from the terrain – of losing anyone.

Things got slightly more interesting with 10km remaining as recent rainfall turned the top millimeters of red dirt into a sticky, splattering layer of mud. The popping, crackling, and splattering sounds generated as this grime hit bicycle and rider were reminiscent of painting houses with large rollers. We would look similarly painted at the finish of the stage. Eventually common sense prevailed and the pace slackened as we approached our camp at “Game Post #1”. Consisting of a collection of simple block buildings, it served as an outpost for the group of roughly 14 men assigned the impossible task of controlling unauthorized hunting activities across an area spanning many, many square miles.

The finish flag signaled the end of the stage and the beginning of post-ride chores: bike cleaning and body washing. The availability of running water was limited to those willing to pay $6 US for a small bucket. For the rest of us, myself included, washing would be done in a large, clear puddle on the side of the road formed by heavy rains overnight. Figuring 6 hours was not enough for any seriously threatening colonies of parasites to establish themselves, I waded in with my bicycle and set to work clearing mud from drive train and restoring near total functionality to my bicycle. The red dirt, having dried quickly in the 45 minutes it took me to get started on cleaning, was a formidable opponent and my vigorous scrubbing was a source of amusement for the local onlookers. Oh, just you wait Mr. Sit-Under-the-Tree-and-Laugh. In 2 hours there will be 40 more to amuse me, and mark my word, they will provide you forms of comedy previously unimaginable in your idle mind. Admittedly, the moment, particularly when viewed in isolation, was a scene I could not have envisioned even just weeks before: a nearly 2 meter tall white guy with hideous tan lines wearing only tight black shorts standing knee deep in a puddle scrubbing his bicycle and himself free of red mud.

Chores accomplished, I sat around taking in the beauty of our isolation. The denseness of the surrounding woodlands prevented visibility beyond 3 meters of either side of the road, but wandering back onto the dirt road allowed for a glimpse deeper into the heart of the reserve. Visions of unknown adventures for tomorrow played out in my head. And then it started raining and I jumped in my tent, practical actions taking priority over whimsical daydreaming of the race I hoped might unfold tomorrow. Dennis “the Beer Guzzling Furnace” delivered a cool (definitely not cold) Tusker beer to my tent door as he fled to his own dry shelter. Etiquette and informal tour rules dictated that I consume it promptly which I gladly did, holding steadfastly to my “calories at every opportunity” nutritional strategy. 4 minutes later the bottle was empty and I was more than properly prepared for my nap, very pleased for the unexpected assistance provided by this 1/2 liter of malty goodness.

My passion for the race is waning, mostly because it seems to be the same thing over and over again. In truth, I do not know how much more of this I am willing to endure at the cost of passing on opportunities to meet and greet the locals or simply take more photos. Alas, tomorrow at least will be 100% dirt and as I stared down the red dirt road, there is no certainty of what lies ahead. And that is good…