Round and round we go

Stage: 69
Day Total: 182km
Total Time: 6:34
Avg. Speed: 22km/h
Avg. Heart Rate: 121bpm
Total Climbing: 749m

Song of the Day: Radiohead – I Might Be Wrong

A cloudless sky allowed the moon to illuminate the campsite as the sleeping hour approached. This same cloudless sky encouraged me to leave the rainfly off of the tent as well in hopes that I could take advantage of cooler temperatures. My nascent meteorlogy skillset did not fail me on this occasion and I enjoyed a lovely night’s sleep and I awoke feeling victorious in advance of the 182km of riding scheduled for the day.

A quick scan of camp during breakfast allowed me to determine who would be riding in the “race” group today, and after very little thought, I knew it would be at best a moderate but unsteady pace they would be riding. No thanks. That said, I rolled out of camp with Luke and Canadian rider Steve, aka Hanson (this nickname being applied in reference to one of the twins in the infamous hockey movie Slapshot). The order of the day, so eloquently phrased by Luke, was simply to “tap it out”. That sounded good to me and was exactly in line with the approach I need to take in order to continue to improve my fitness. Riding with the lead race group daily will only tear me down and leave me needing several weeks recovery upon arrival in Cape Town.

We picked up a number of additional riders during the first 75km to lunch and as the wonderful white truck appeared on the horizon we had a total of 7 in tow. It was a cooperative ride at a very steady pace though I was relieved to be at lunch as my backside was aching just a bit. Lunch was a glorious affiar due to the presence of copious amounts of real cheese and I needed no encouragement to partake in abundance. Three delicious cheese/tomato/tuna/cucumber sandwiches found their way down my gullet with a grapefruit wedge serving as dessert. For the record, my weight is down nearly 4kg (about 8 pounds) for the trip despite my very earnest efforts to eat nearly everything in sight. I don’t have a problem and I can quit eating like this whenever I want (as long as I stop cycling).

Lunch seemed to function as some form of elimination round for our happy peloton for as we rolled away from lunch only Luke, Steve, and myself remained from the original group. We did acquire three Dutchmen and on the whole we were now a significantly faster bunch. The roads were generally flat with small rolling hills providing occasional vaiation. Steady winds from the side or rear aided our progress through a landscape that has varied little over the past 3 riding days. Of note is the continued presence of bicycles – everywhere. This seems to be a country using this form of transport intelligently and upon inspection one can notice that slight modifications to simple bikes have enabled them for use as taxis and the transportation of large quantities of wood and charcoal.

One of the more enjoyable moments on the day came when Luke suffered a mechanical failure in the form of a failed bearing in one of the small pulley wheels on his rear derailleur. Normally this is only a noisy nuisance, but in Luke’s case, the wheel seized and he could no longer pedal. Sending the Dutchmen on their way, Steve and I joined Luke on the side of the road to have a crack at an improvised repair job. After disassembling the wheel we quickly realized that a key metal housing on this small part had failed catastrophically. After picking out the shards of metal and reassembling the piece (minus the two destroyed rings that hold the bearings in place), we carefully filled the entire assembly with some lubricant and screwed the pulley wheel back into place. To our surprise, it held in place and continued to spin with only minimal friction. All things considered, this was a victory that became even bigger when it held up for the final 50km of the ride.

One final stop was planned for the day in the town of Choma. No seriously, it was planned from the start. Situated 138km into the route it was the perfect place for a food break of some sort before riding the final 44km to camp. Hoping for pizza, we rolled into the town ready and willing to eat just about anything. We ultimately settled on meat pies, a coke, and some gummy bears. Sitting on the steps in front of the shop watching life in the town unfold provided time to reflect on the past few weeks and the little time remaining on this journey.

We picked up two other riders for the final 40km to camp and set a frenetic pace. With great cooperation the group averaged just under 38km/h which was sufficiently hard enough to remind me that I had just ridden a long way. In truth, my backside is aching, presumably from just being on the bike for considerable time. A cold shower and an even colder beer have me feeling much better as I write this, though the now perpetual hunger has moved in to threaten my afternoon of content. And with that, I bid thee adeu to resume to my regularly scheduled grazing.