Round and round we go

Day Total: 116 Km

Total Time: 3:34:25

Avg. HR: 132bpm

Avg. Speed: 34.3 km/h (excluding the 13 minute lunch break)

Song of the Day: Here Comes Your Man – The Pixies

The prayer cycle started the day again, albeit earlier than the 5:15am alarm on my watch. Packing up was easier this morning as we had access to proper toilets, some street lights in camp, and extra time the night before to prep everything. Breakfast fell back to its normal routine: whole wheat pita bread, loads of peanut butter, and bananas. The honey was gone today, so yes, my sandwich was incomplete. I have a theory that it might be a series of such minor letdowns in one’s life that causes psychological problems. Then again, expectation is the mother of disappointment…

Fresh legs all around meant a decent start to the day. It was surprisingly chilly, but the skies were clear and the sun was out soon enough to make things bearable enough to remove the arm warmers. The pace early one alternated between moderately reasonable to stupid (as has been the case), so I just tried to zone out, enjoy the views of the amazingly lush banks along the canals, and draw energy from the general excitement with which we were greeted along the route. As usual, the pace whipped up to freak speed just before lunch, but as it was only for 8km, we all survived.

There was some mischief out on the road today with a very small number of 10 to 14 year old kids today. What seems to happen is when the lead riders go through, these kids get excited and go to the roadside to await the next bunch. There were reports of rocks being thrown as well as a few instances of kids using palm fronds to hit riders in the back as they went by. Nothing too serious really, certainly no worse than Thursday’s ride into Luxor when I was hit in the leg with a rock, so please be mindful of severity and context if/when you read other accounts of this ride. The overwheling majority of interactions with people on the roads into our camps have been very warm, very positive, and very memorable. Who doesn’t like riding along and seeing 5 children on the far bank of a canal come running out of the fields to  race alongside while yelling “Hallo, hallo, hallo!”?

After a few directional concerns on the final approach, a few of us became detached from the main group to finish just a few minutes behind. Nothing serious, and lessons learned. It turns out the main bunch had some near misses with traffic due to the size of the group, so I am thankful for avoiding the drama. We pitched tents in the middle of a dry, dusty football pitch (soccer field for those in the US) at around 11am. A cold shower was available. What I really mean was that there was a shower head with running water inside of the little stalls that also had a water tank and a hole in the ground for more material biological deposits. Nothing like showering in the shitter… That said, clean water to rinse with was quite nice.

We headed into town in a group of about 8 and found a nice falafel stand blasting Egyptian dance music. The falafel sanwiches were the cheapest of the trip at 1 Egyptian Pound (~$0.18) and nearly the tastiest. 3-Bike-Mike (separate post to come on that nickname) scored icecream bars for everyone and coupled with the orange Fanta provided by Paul, we had a very memorable pre-dinner meal. We wondered the markets looking for some form of sticky tape, and finally keyed in on the word Scotch to get what we wanted.

We ran into a few other riders on our way into camp and were persuaded to head to the Edfu temple just outside of town. Kendra, our companinon from yesterday, was again being offered large numbers of camels in exchange for marriage arrangements and quickly arranged for transport to the temple via horse-drawn cart.

The temple was nothing short of incredible and really cemented all the knowledge we had gleaned in the previous days. The Edfu temple is considered the best preserved of the Egyptian temples and did not disappoint with so much of its original structure still structurally intact. Massive columns, even more massive top slabs of limestone formed the roof, and a gigantic, hollowed-out granite block were some of the highlights. The intricacy and depth of the carvings on the walls was distincly different than those we saw in the previous days and we correctly surmised that there was much more available time to complete this temple. A few photos were below.

Dinner was a rather gristle-laiden mystery meat, tomoato-based sauce and loads of fresh vegetables. The food continues to impress both for its quality and endless quantity. The rider meeting included instructions on preparations for our entry into the Sudan via ferry on Monday. Aswan reperesents the finest that Egypt has to offer we were told, and also holds the last vestiges and luxuries of the modern world we will see for a while. I’m OK with that (I think) for now.

Enjoy the photos…

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Day Total: REST DAY – NO RIDING

Song of the Day: Girlfriend – Matthew Sweet

The first full day off from riding provided ample opportunity to wonder about, explore the town, eat (a lot), and visit sights of historical significance. More importantly, it provided a greatly needed opportunity for the body to recover slightly and reflect on the first 6 days on tour.

My day started early with the usual Muslim call to prayer at around 5am. I have not fully worked out the timing yet – it seems some of them commence at 4:45am, others at 5, and still others around 5:20am. Regardless, it is a staple of every single day in Egypt and while you don’t always appreciate it you must respect it for what it is and all that it means to the local people.

Paul and I split a room which after talking to my father turned out to be a great idea. Apparently his respiratory infection worsened overnight to the point that he said he was close to booking a flight back to the US. We’ve since got him sorted with some proper antibiotics (thanks to Torrey and Karen in Denver for briefing me on such issues prior to my departure I knew we needed Zithromycin) and he is headed in the right direction. Paul and I met Kendra at 6:30am and the three of us walked down to the banks of the Nile near the Luxor temple to meet our tour guide for the morning, Ahmed. We met this guy when he accosted us as we opted for a self-guided tour of the Luxor temple the day prior. We negotiated a good price and promptly found him waiting for us. Three minutes later we were ushered onto a small boat to be whisked across the river to a waiting taxi. Apparently the river crossing shortens the journey immensely as the alternative driving route means heading north to a proper highway bridge. In any case, 5 minutes later we were on the other side and waited patiently as Ahmed called somebody – probably a brother or a cousin as seems to be the norm here – to arrange for a ride.

A taxi pulled up and we all got in. The car was a real beauty – a Pugeot 405 touring edition – circa 19-something. I love these cars as they embody the “make use of everything and make it last” mentality you find in so many of the people here. They also have serious ground clearance which I imagine might be quite handy.

The taxi was also interesting for the simple fact that it would not be the same one we would return in at the end of our tour. Instead, Ahmed found an idle tour van and whisked us away in it – complete with other tourists’ cameras and jackets. But alas, I get ahead of myself…

First up was the Valley of the Kings. This valley is home to over 50 tombs of Egyptian kings and represents the richest cache of Egyptian artifacts, structures and assorted antiquities. Unlike many of the other sites we have visited, this one was much more regulated – your ticket let you enter 3 tombs (out of 4 or 5 that allowed entry) and no photos are allowed. That said, I will take a crack at a short description, but wikipedia.com should be able to give you some visuals. The depth of the tombs and the perfection of their construction stood out immediately as you descened into them. When you consider that they had to chisel out the rock, cut it, form it, then plaster over it, it is amazing at how precise the finished product is. Add to that a myriad of hyroglipchic carvings, 10 ton granite tombs, and intricately painted rooms and the effect is nothing short of stunning. It was mind blowing to be inside these rooms and see art work that is still perfectly intact after 4000 years. Mad props to the Egyptian artisans – you knew how to do your work. The greater irony is that I’ve yet to see another building in any city in Egypt that indicates even an above average mastery of construction and architectural techniques. Go figure.

Once we visited our 3 tombs we jumped into an idle tour bus and were off to the Habu Temple. Ahmed was a great tour guide there showing us a few things we would not have picked up on our own. Paul had his DSLR camera out and I happened to notice that he was randomly shooting pictures as it hung down from his neck. When I called him on it, he wanted to know how I noticed. “Great, now I have to take some real photos”. There was no shortage of photo opportunities – the temple was very impressive with massive columns and an abundance of inlaid and raised-relief symbols adorning the walls. I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.

We left the temple (without Ahmed – all part of his plan) and went to one of the many Papyrus galleries. Effectively, once in the taxi, we were a captive audience and had no choice but to go inside. They did bring us some nice tea and a free lunch of falafel. Paul bought a print, Kendra and I politely declined. Interestingly enough, the longer we sat in the shop the better prices got and Paul finally got a 50% discount. They finished our visit with a demonstration of how papyrus is made – very interesting actually and surprisingly simple. I think you could probably use the cattails found in marshy areas of the wetlands and when I return I plan to hit up the farmers market circuit to sell this hot new paper product. I figure a printer-ready offering would be a huge hit when bundled with some cheesesy hyroglyphic/kartoush producing software. Imagine priting nametags for your next Avon party using hyroglyphics. That’s what I’m talking about! Though I’m sure organizations such as the Colonial Dames would frown upon this. Betsy, will you please inquire?

Once back in Luxor, we arranged for a 30-minute massage at one of the nicer hotels in town. It ended up being a joke of a massage, but hey, we’re all human so even though it was horrible it was still nice to be touched. She used a lot of icy/hot oil and asked me for a cash tip before starting, while working my back, while working my shoulders, and one more time on my left calf for good measure. I nearly craked up when she started very lightly karate chopping me as part of her routine, always ending with “Good?”. It was nice to use the pool which floated on the Nile – clean, clear and very refreshing.
The day ended with a leisurely walk through the markets back to our hotel/camp. My dad was feeling much better, so we went to dinner in a nearby restaurant. Called the “King Tut” restaurant, it was, as you might imagine, completely unremarkable. C’est la vie. It fell well short of the exciting atmosphere and flavor of the street food on which we dined the previous night, but you can’t win them all and the frresh orange juice was tasty at least. Back at camp, we crawled into our tents, opting out of the hotel room for the final night.

It has been an interesting week – I rode my bike over 450 miles in 6 days, I’ve met multiple people whom I feel I will keep in touch with for many years to come, and I’ve learned a ton about my spirit and my body. The repeated, miniature doses of reality were both harsh and liberating: I now know it’s going to be one hell of a long trip and that it will only rarely feel easy. However, pushing oneself to various levels seems to give clarity that can’t be readily achieved under the circumstances which I left behind. I am fortunate to have been able to talk to Torrey regularly which has been more valuable than I would have imagined. Her enthusiasm (even though she’s been sick) keeps me going and in many ways I feel like I’m on this journey as much for her as for myself. I pulled out the “special” holiday card we put together before leaving yesterday and had a good laugh. So ridiculous, but somehow so right.

Tomorrow is a quick 116km to the town of Edfu on the banks of the Nile. I’m sure the legs will respond well to the day off, but so will everyone else’s which likely means a frenzied pace with the lead bunch. However, it’s only 2 days of riding this week before boarding a ferry to the Sudan for 2 days, so hopefully that makes it a tad easier.

Until tomorrow…

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Day Total: 93 Km

Avg. HR: 131bpm

Avg. Speed: No idea a I messed up the computer settings today

Song of the Day: I Love Rock and Roll – Joan Jett

 
Sleeping in the middle of the desert is usually uneventful I would expect. OK, so we had a sandstorm, and it has been cold, but really, the absence of anything in the area should mean little to anything of interest ever happens. This night started the same, other than the incessant coughing of ~8 fellow riders who are being plagued by a pestulent respiratory infection sweeping through the group (my Dad being one of those particularly hard hit). Thus was my surprise when at ~4am there was a loud roar of an engine downshifting, the squeal of tires executing a serious steering and braking maneuver and the inevitable crunch and crash of car body hitting the metal barricade of the police checkpoint. This really should be no surprise mind you: it was completely dark, there are no signs indicating said checkpoint, and no temporary marking by the police to indicate that one should be prepared to stop. There were a few mumbled shouts, but beyond that, all seemed to be forgiven. I really did expect that Canadian Matthew was somehow involved but he denies any culpability.

A palpable energy was racing through the camp on this morning as people prepped themselves for a short ride into Luxor and our first rest day. Having ridden easier the previous day, I must say, I felt pretty fresh from the start. However, with some developing tendonitis in my left ankle I decided to lay off the tempo a touch for one more day and bit my lip as the “fast group” rolled by. I rode with a whole different group of people for the first half of the day as we rolled along a medium-sized canal. We rolled through small towns and open countryside to the hearty cheers of any child within earshot. Many of them woudl run to the side of the road or the edge of the canal to get a better look and shout words of encouragement in a language I couldn’t understand.

The land was spotted with villages of various sizes on the far shore of the canal. Access to each of them was gained by crossing a bridge over the canal and each bridge was accompanied by a road blockade of metal barriers to slow traffic on the main road. If you were to turn right off of the main road to cross one of these bridges, you would be met by a man in a robe holding a rifle. I’m not entirely sure why, but I find people in local garb with firearms to be much more frightening that uniformed millitary personel. Maybe it’s just me?

Lunch was the standard fare, but this time a number of locals cautiously approached the lunch truck. Having to relieve myself, I headed behdin the truck and was greeted by tentative “hellos” and soft smiles. I broke out some gummy bears to share with the children, but many were too afraid to accept my offer. One local – a heavier, older woman – showed no fear and grabbed all I had. I guessed there must be some kind of pecking order or something. All the fun quickly ended when one of our security detail (the one with the stupid looking machine gun on his hip) strolled over and shouted at them. I didn’t really get it because I’m 99% sure that the children weren’t carrying weapons and that the older woman – though clearly cuckoo for gummy bears – did not have a bazooka under her dress. The guy really ruined an otherwise memorable moment.

After lunch the terrain remained the same as the road followed the canal. My arm eventually tired as I waved to 300+ children en route to Luxor. A few got a bit surly, smacking the two riders behind me with palm fronds. I was later hit in the leg with a rock, but I feel that was very much the exception on the day. I rode with 2 others for a while, but finally one was too tired to keep up and the other was too tired to ever ride in front. Thus, I mostly rode alone for the remaining 55km to Luxor and it was good to just set a pace and stick to it. As we got closer to town, my tranquility was abruptly interrupted by two cars trying to turn right into the same space. I laughed out loud when a police vehcile that was only two cars back immediately turned on its siren in response to the chaos.

Up and over a bridge, through a roundabout, and we rolled into our rest day hotel/camp. The hotel is fairly low end, but it has an open, communal dirt patch perfect for pitching tents. I spent the afternoon washing clothes and sorting gear as we have access to our secondary bags for the first time in a week. Paul and I decided to share a hotel room. Normally I would bunk with my dad, however, he is battling a nasty respiratory infection and I wasn’t sure I could sleep with him coughing so much. He was understanding.

We wandered the streets of Luxor, visited the Luxor temple and its accompanying mosque, meandered the labryinth-like side streets of the market, and ate and ate and ate. Then I bought a camel hide belt. Day turned into evening as we countinued walking and taking it all in. We had two different “guides” following us around and showing us where to eat, then sitting and watching us eat, then following us some more. It was a bit over the top, but they were nice enough – until we didn’t want to buy anything. Then one of them tried to pick my pocket, and both kept complaining about how they “spent so much time with us”. We responded by simply saying “that was your choice” and walking back to the hotel. I’ve got some great pictures that I’ll process tomorrow to share.

We have made arrangements to visit some of the historical sites tomorrow. It’s a bit of a loose arrangement with a guy who introduced himself to us while we were wandering the Luxor temple so we shall see…

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Day Total: 139 KmAvg.

HR: 127bpm

Avg. Speed: 26.7 km/h (excluding aid stops)

Song of the Day: The Beatles – I Am the Walrus

A funny thing happened on the road today. The idea actually hatched over dinner the previous night (Tuesday) out of a discussion about what we were hoping to get out of this experience. At the end of it, “Bastiaan the Great” (he’s ludicrously fast on his bicycle and also happens to stand 6 feet 8 inches tall) suggested that we forget about racing. In his words: “We are in Africa, not in a race”. Given that he was currently in 3rd position, I didn’t know how serious he was about it. From my perspective, I had concerns over the pace we had been making over the previous days and the lingering effects it would most certainly have, particularly when we hit the offroad and/or hillier sections.

The morning started with a long, long, long – but thankfully gradual – climb. Long needs some form of relative measure to gain meaning so here you go: it was 25 miles long. The lead bunch started ratcheting up the pace quite early on, and sensing that another hard day would lie ahead, I bit my lip to prepare for some suffering. About that time, Bastiaan looked over at me and said “Remember our deal.” And just like that, we let up and let them ride away. I could not have made that decision alone, even though it was absolutely the right one for my body and my ambitions of riding every inch of every day. We then pedaled lightly, then pulled over and waited for a few others. We continued up the slopes picking up a few other riders here and there until we had a group of 9 or 10. The pace was comfortable, spirits were high, and for the first time I was able to eat something on the bike without worrying about my hair catching on fire due to the furious pace. Honestly, it was great to finally be able to look around, talk with some new people, and cover the distance without killing myself.

The scenery was very dramatic for the duration of the climb – high, craggy sandstone “mountains” on both sides of the road. There was no vegetation, but I did see my first wildlife in the form of an amazing pigeon and a very rare black crow. The scarcity of anything interesting to look at meant we talked quite a bit amongst the members of the group: Tori (CAN), Martin (NED), Bastiaan (NED), Terry (AUS), Luke (AUS), Carrie (NZL), Lindsay (NZL), Steve (CAN), Randall (CAN), and ceratinly not to be forgotten, Peter the Plumber (AUS/RSA). Another international mix. As the token American the jokes were on me: “Hey Scott, are you looking for oil?”; “Did the Bush family pay for your trip when they found out you would be in Sudan?”; “Will you try to interrogate the locals in Kenya?”. Ha ha, but admittedly, it is interesting to get a feel for the world’s perception of the USA. In the end, they all admitted I was a pretty good guy. I told them only to say that if they meant it because I was of no relation to Chuck Norris so they should not feel intimidated.

The ride ended esaily enough and again we are camped in the middle of nowhere. There is absolutely nothing in any direction except the road and the police checkpoint where we pitched our tents. Looking for humor, I sent Canadian Matthew (you saw his picture in yesterday’s post) to talk with the local military police guys to see if we could get a shot of ourselves holding their AK-47 machine guns. Matt came back dejtected, saying “I think I had one of them ready to agree, but then his boss came over… and his boss speaks pretty good English”. So instead we visited the “shop” to see what kind of treats we might buy. The shop is really the side-project of our entreprenurial security detail. These 3 dudes in suits have been with us since day 2, and somehow, every day, they always have cold beer, sodas, and cigarettes. One carries this small Italian sub-machine gun on his hip. It looks totally absurd, but hey, that’s just how they roll here. When we were closer to a town, they invited ~20 of their friends to come over free dinner and I braced myself for the repercussions of an accidental discharge. Fortunately, nothing happened.

Tomorrow we ride a short 95km into the city of Luxor. Luxor is home to the valley of the kings and numerous temples, pyramids, and ruins. It also happens to be the site of our first rest day, so we will sleep there 2 nights and have a full day off the bike. There will be hotel rooms for toilets/showers (or to sleep in if one chooses) as well as restaurants – hopefully with ice cream. I need this day. There will be a lot to get done: laundry, bike cleaning, food shopping. Maybe it won’t be that restful, but my arse will be very appreciative. My dad has been stricken with some severe saddle sores and will use this time to recover so he can get back on the bike and continue riding.

I’ll plan to send out some additional photos and updates on camp life, some profiles of pieces of gear I have, as well as some “rider interviews”.

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Day Total: 95 Km

Avg. HR: 137bpm

Avg. Speed: 34.7 km/h (excluding aid stops)

Song of the Day: Oasis – Lyla

Last night we learned that the desert has many faces. The evening was again relatively mild and pleasant as we dined on mashed potatoes and chili (Paul and myself pulled ~70 minutes of potato peeling duty). By 9pm the pleasantries were cast aside and an angry wind rolled out of the north. It blew hard, then really hard, then stupidly hard, applying unrelenting force against unsuspecting (i.e. unprepared) campers. A tent peg came loose due to the force and I ran outside to to make a hasty repair… in my unders. Eventually sand was blowing into the tent with enough ferocity that I had no choice but to hastily pack up my bag to keep sand from permeating anything and everything. The walls of my tent pressed in against me, and finally, I simply mummied up in my sleeping bag, turned my back into the wind and forced myself to sleep. Doubt raged through my mind as to whether or not my tent would hold – enough so that I sent a text message to my good friend John in Glasgow to relay the situation in hopes of getting some advice. No such luck (thanks John!). I did survive. The upshot is that I was able to take out my eating fork and rake sand while sititng inside my tent. Nothing like a little zen sand raking to get the morning started. On the whole, I think 2 tents were damaged and at least 5 people spent the night in the vans.

The wind continued all through the morning which provided ample motivation to expedite the packing process. The Egyptian riders were cold and started ahead of everyone which was fine by me – they are only riding 6 days and tend to whip the pace up to levels of unsustainability. In any case, we rolled out with favorable winds and before long we were whipping along at over 40km/h. I looked at Paul, he looked at me and we just shook our heads. “We’ll just have to get used to it,” he said. We all hung on and made the 55km to lunch in a quick 1h 35m. The pace definitely got a little hectic just before lunch and relented only slightly afterwards. Because we got to lunch so early, I could barely eat anything which left me hungry later down the road. I was chewing on a granola bar when the road rose upwards along with the tempo. Choking on my food I slipped to the back, but a little too much so and the group was away. I rode hard for the next 12 minutes to catch up but could never close to more than ~40 meters. That said, it was nice to ride solo for a bit, yelling at the top of my lungs for no other reason than to see if anyone could hear me. I passed a random guy standing in the middle of the 4-lane motorway directing traffic. He nodded, nothing more. The lead group finished with a fury, but in the end my riding mate of the past few days managed to accelerate past 3 Egyptian riders on the line to grab the stage win. I was very pleased to hear that!

We made camp on the beach in the “resort” town of Safaga. Yes there are hotels and dive shops here, so in that sense it is somewhat of a resort town. It looks as if its best days are behind it, the action seemingly being relocated up the coast and anchored by a myriad of meaga-hotels. That said, the race organization reserved a few rooms for riders to use for the purposes of showering and flushable toilets. My dad sprang for a hotel room, so I’m sleeping in a proper bed tonight. He has just discovered that the hotel has free internet which means he will be online for hours and keep me awake. Possibly not worth it? We ate lunch at around 2pm, I napped, went back to the restaurant where Paul and I ate an entire pizza each at 5pm, then ate the normal camp dinner at around 6pm. My apetite has fully arrived and I’m not sure what to do about it. This will be interesting in the coming days.

Tomorrow is back to “sawing logs” as it were – a standard 140km along the highway road to another nameless camp in the desert. This one will be located at a police checkpoint which means there will be a lot of local people standing around with guns, smiling and smoking cigarettes. At least the bikes will be safe…

Today’s picture is a tribute to the ordinary man. Fellow rider Matthew from Canada is here riding the first half of the tour with his father (who rode the 2nd half of the tour last year). By his own admission, he doesn’t know how much he actually likes cycling. I love this guy’s candor, his attitude, and sense of humor – he had me nearly crying when we toured the Giza pyramids as he haggled with the camel riders. Here’s to you Matt for proving that the TDA is not all about being a hardcore bike racer!

[Bryon’s Note]: Here is a link to Scott’s check-in from his SPOT GPS Messenger for today:

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=26.76591,33.94275&ll=26.76591,33.94275&ie=UTF8&z=12&om=1

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Day Total: 134 KmAvg.

HR: 132bpm

Avg. Speed: 27.9 km/h (excluding aid stops)

Song of the Day: Not so much one song, but anything by Blitentrapper

I’d like to start with a bit of administrativa in an effort to clarify a few things. Firstly, I haven’t actually listened to my mp3 player yet. Fortunatley I’ve had no shortage of riding partners thsu far. Secondly, starting tomorrow I’ll leave the clock running on the computer to reflect how the timing system works for the event. If I haven’t mentioned the timing system, each rider is given a small token and “clocks in” to start the day and “clocks out” when they complete the stage. Nothing fancy, but it works.

Last night’s camp was about 50 meters/yards off of the highway so there was a bit of road noise. The concentrated nature of the camp meant there was a good deal of various noises drifting my way to prevent deep slumber. That said, I woke up feeling pretty fresh and was ready to face the day.

We had agreed the night before that as a “racing group” we would depart shortly after 7am. Peter the Plumber (that’s the name of his business), an Australian now living in Cape Town has become the self-appointed chief of the peleton. His position has nothing to do with speed or ability, but everything to do with the fact that he is very outgoing, likes to talk (a lot), and generally believes he knows what is best for the group. He actually does a great job. That said, he was a bit quick on the start today and I got off a couple of minutes behind the group. UK Paul – the same guy I’ve ridden with each of the past 2 days – stayed back to wait for me figuring we could get a slight time advantage by later catching the group. It ended up being a difficult task to catch them, but after 20 minutes we reconnected with the group. From that point on it was a very pleasantly paced ride to the lunch truck at 70km. By pleasant, I really mean I was riding to the accompaniment of a hellish cacaphony eminating from an ambulance that began tailing us. In Egypt, we are typically tailed by police, tourism police, secret service, security, and other vehicles seemingly with nothing to do. While still lacking purpose to their day, they did find meaning in blasting Egyption folk songs over their loudspeaker system. I didn’t understand, it scared me at points, but once I learned the chorus I must admit I was compelled to sing along. Oooooh-ahh-ooh Ooooo-ahh-oooh! Yeah, sing it! At lunch I spent some time sorting out my water bottles and then choked down a quick sandwich. I have struggled to eat anything at lunch each day – though today I was slightly hungrier. Part of it seems to be an adjustment to simply eating as much as I know I need to, part of it is that we typically only spend ~15 minutes eating. Anyhow we quickly got away and were on the road again with only a short 66km to camp.

As expected, soon after lunch, fireworks in the peloton were on tap. I knew something was brewing when the local Egyption rider dropped back for a coca cola and the remainder of the Egyptian riders started chattering incessantly amongst themselves. Very soon after that the pace quickened up to 42km/h. I was hanging on but quickly decided the cost of doing so was more than I could afford to spend and diametrically opposed to a tactful plan for me to achieve my goals for this event. While I understand that one must exceed their limits to accomplish great things, there is a difference between bravery and stupidity. With no shot at victory, a group of ~8 of us let them go to sort things out amongst themselves. An older chap named Paul would win the stage again. Lifetime bike racer, semi-professional, he is very, very fast and looks unbeatable. Such are the fruits of experience and a nearly full-time focus on preparing for this event. My life is simply too full for such singular emphasis… and that’s just the way I like it.

That left a group of 8 of us to ride into the finish: Paul from the UK, Adam from the UK, Henri from Holland, Martin from Holland, Peter the Plumber (Australian), Luke from Australia, Jan from Germany. A fairly international crowd for sure. Some were quite tired by the end of the stage so Paul and I took long turns at the front until the fabulous orange finish flag appeared on the horizon.
I’m pretty sore. Though I finished strong, I can feel the past few days. Myself and some others took a long walk across the desert to swim in the Red Sea again. After that, I participated in the daily yoga sessions led by fellow rider Kendra. I really appreciate her taking the initiative to do this and her knowledge on the topic is extensive. Post-stretching it was the regular routine of rider meeting, dinner, teeth cleaning, and now writing. Tomorrow we camp in an actual town, Sofaga, on the shores of the Red Sea. My father asked if I wanted to get a hotel room. I’m not keen on any extra costs, but he quickly added “I’m buying”, so I consented. In a sense, it’s a great system: I ride fast to get one of the few available rooms, and he funds the project. In any event, the race organization reserves 4 rooms for the purposes of showering and flushable toilets. I’m only on my 3rd night camping but I already feel as if I’m betraying the grass roots nature of the event by taking the room. I’m sure I won’t regret it!

Shots from camp (including my bike):

OK, bonus round. As I’m trying to upload the photos, Peter the Plumber is reciting Australian folk songs. And my dad is cursing form his tent…

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Day Totals: 167 Km

Avg. HR: 139bpm

Avg. Speed: 29.2 km/h (excluding aid stops)

Song of the Day: Radiohead – House of Cards

I went to bed a bit apprehensive about today’s ride: I had not ridden this distance since September (though I had done 5+ hour rides), the racers were all starting together today, and the total mileage coupled with yesterday’s ride would put me at my highest 2 day total ever. For the record, tomorrow makes the 3-day high, Tuesday the 4-day high, and Wednesday the 5-day personal best. Fortunately Thursday is a rest day in Luxor which means the day leading into it – Wednesday – is typically shorter. In this case, a benign 59 miles…

The first night’s camping was very comfortable. The overnight low was around 8 Celsius (around 40 degrees) but I was actually too warm inside the sleeping bag. I did need to pee, but really couldn’t be bothered to get up and walk off into the desert to relieve myself – it’s just a hassle to put on all of your clothes. No worries, I have a solution going forward involving an old water bottle. Morning came a bit early and I was dealt another minor dose of reality when I fully realized that no matter if I chose to ride or not, I was not going to be able to sleep in for a long, long time. So, instead I got up, packed up my stuff, grabbed breakfast, and did battle with my bag to properly close it. My bag is simply too small, and with the zippers already showing signs of stress, I’ve decided tomorrow morning to leave my tent and/or sleeping pad out of the bag and strap it to the outside. Hopefully it does the trick and I can take it easy in the morning!

Some of you may be wondering what breakfast consists of so I will tell you. 95% of the days it will be hot cereal/oatmeal/porridge with bread for making peanut butter sandwiches. Continuing with the Michaelangelo approach I’ve adopted for meals, first expressed with yesteday’s lunch of a peanut butter and cheese sandwich, today I went with a classic: whole wheat pita, peanut butter, honey, and bananas. It is worth noting that althoug it is delicious, I struggled to get it down as a result of the 3/4 pound of pasta I ate last night.

The ride got off to a great start with about 14 of us riding together assisted by a wicked tailwind that pushed us through the first 10km at ~42.6 km/h. We were truly flying, but alas, it did not last. We rode in formation before turning onto a different highway at around 20km. At that point, we rounded the ramp and the Red Sea opened up before us. If you were curious, it’s not red… The ride followed the shoreline for the remainder of the day and the view was puncuated by coastl resorts, development of coastal resorts, a good bit of nothing, the odd oil refinery, and one rusted, dilapidated tank that was a holdover from some unknown armed conflict. The group cooperated well, even coordinating a bathroom/suncream break on the shores of the Red Sea. The spot chosen was less than optimal in terms of “cover” for releiving oneself. Normally this doesn’t matter, but the copious amounts of food consumed in the past 3 days necessitated additional biological related business. I hiked a loose dirt bluff and at the top of it was a small, optimal depression in the ground. It really was quite perfect: out of the wind, deep enough to provide concealment, but not so deep as to ruin the view. Truly spectacular, as you can see in the photo.

We made good time to the lunch stop at 70km where I forced down a tuna salad sandwich and some water. It was quite early – roughly 2.5 hours after breakfast – which made eating difficult, but as Paul (aka Madman) from the UK pointed out, “You have to eat all you can when you can”. Fair enough.

Shortly after lunch the winds picked up and the group fractured into a lead group of 4, 2 chasers, and the rest of the bunch. I was in with the rest of the bunch, and soon enough, this group fractured as well. I dropped back, content to ride out my day on my own terms knowing that I was headed into uncharted waters with the mounting distances this week. Shortly thereafter I rode up on Bastiaan, we caught a few others and our group was back to 5. We whittled away the kilometers, but the winds continued to blow off of the ocean. To combat this, we rode in a staggered, overlapping line, similar to one half of the famous “V formation” that geese employ. This helped slightly, and I managed to hang on, but definitely didn’t feel stellar. I was quite relieved when we finally saw the finish flags for the day and could pull over and put away the bike for a while. All in all we made great time and rolled into camp around 1:45pm.

Our early arrival gave us the opportunity to enjoy some mid-afternoon sun, and for once, I felt like I was in a proper desert with all of its warmth, wind, and sand. After making camp, we decided to mount an expedition to the shores of the Red Sea for a quick swim. I say expedition because it was about a 10 minute walk that had us walking through soft sand and climbing over fossil fuel pipelines. The water was cool, but bearable and I plunged in naked to avoid having crusty shorts. Crusty shorts is what happens when your clothing comes into contact with salt water and then dries in the sun. If you do this enough days in succession without washing your clothes (a scenario that is reality on this trip), you can almost crack your clothes. Uncomfortable based on my experiences.

The rest of the day was spent watching fellow riders finish a long, arduous day with a memorable desert sunset in the background. This was a full day – the highs (the Red Sea), the lows (one rider was clipped by a truck [he’s OK and finished the day on somebody else’s bike], and lasting memories of my first full day in the desert. Tomorrow is another 133km (~82 miles) which should seem shorter than the today… I hope.

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I woke up this morning to an email from Scott’s SPOT GPS Messenger saying he checked in at the camp after day 2.  It appears a good stretch of today’s 104 mile leg was along the Red Sea.

http://fms.ws/45-HN/28.53066/32.93446

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****Scott emailed me this post today (1/15)****

Day Totals: 134Km

Avg. HR: 125bpm

Avg. Speed: 24.6 km/h (thanks to the convoy)

Song of the Day: Weezer – Island in the Sun

The day finally arrived. The idea firmed up at the end of 2009, rationalized through the first half of 2010, and finally committed to in late May of last year is now a reality. In some ways I could believe, in others not so much. I slept like crap the night before, partly because of nerves, partly because I needed to get this thing going to see where I stood.

The morning started out with 5am breakfast at the hotel. Standard fare, but without the chesse I have come to like quite a bit. I laid off of the roasted tomatoes this morning as my stomach has been a bit fickle as of late, but really laid into the whole weat pita with butter and honey. Breakfast of Egyptian Champions. A mug of green tea washed it all down and I raced back to the room to change into my gear (I’m not one for dining in my workout clothes even if they are clean). For once I was well organized and quickly donned my most comfortrable bike shorts (thanks Boure) and a jersey I hope nets me some free beer – the official Stone Arrogant Bastard Ale jersey from Stone Brewery. With that I was ready to rock so we headed to the lobby to join the growing mob.

We laughed, we stood around, we laughed, I went to the bathroom and got stuck in the stall. Yeah, that’s right, the lock was jammed and I was momentarily trapped in the stall. Actually it was about 7 minutes. I finally sat back down on the toilet, and with that the shotty construnction of the door allowed it to shift slightly and I forced it open. Go figure. Roll-call, chasing down of unsettled room bills, and final instructions were next on the docket before we finally rolled out.

We rolled through some part of Cairo on our approach to the pyramids at Giza. I visited them earlier in the week, but this time was different as we approached from a different side and got to ride through the desert to view them at a different angle. Most stopped for photos – I did too – but I also tested my arabic on the procession of camel riders accompanying us. I failed that test, but their smiles were encouraging.

A few group photos and we were underway. Almost. First I had to put on arm warmers and my jacket because the temperature was only hovering around 50 degrees. Yes, it’s true – you can be cold and have shrinkage in Egypt. I wish I could tell you it was amazing and surreal, but apart from the awe of “holy shite we’re starting this thing” the riding was less than optimal. We rolled along a heavily polluted canal and onto the expressway where the police had commandeered a lane of traffic for us. The views of the old buildings were interesting and I was very psyched to roll over the Nile, but the pollution was very, very thick and we were all relieved when we finally turned off of that road to a lesser, remote highway. Convoy riding is challenging with all of the starting and stopping, but nobody was injured and finally we were given our final instructions for the day: ride straight on this highway for 90km.

From that point forward, I rode with a rider named Paul. Orignally from the UK, and now living/working in Beaver Creek, he had a lot of great stories to tell about the ski life. It also turns out he’s quite an accomplished athlete and a complete animal. Check out his website: yeshesmad.com. I asked him if he had ever rode ~435 miles in 6 days and he told me that he recently rode 880 miles in 4 days from the southern tip of England to the northern tip of Scotland. Great riding companion and I wish him the best in the race (he probably only rode with me because of the fact that today was a non-timed stage).

The cold continued, as did the wind which shifted from head to tail. At one point we managed ~28mph on flat roads with my heart rate barely cracking 130 beats per minute. I need more of that… The scenery consisted of rolling sand/dirt hills, no vegetation, and the ocassional burned car flipped over on its roof.

We finally arrived at camp and well, what can I say, we are in BFE. Really, we are camping in the middle of a sandy expanse that stretches at least 50 miles. The earth is not so sandy as it seems to be a finely ground, clay-like substance. Fortunately only the crust is firm and the tent steaks penetrate without issue. I set up my tent for the first time ever (it broke in the final week when we were trying to bug-proof it) and it’s very nice. It probably won’t stay that way for 4 months, but one can hope!

Dinner was a massive portion of pasta bolognese. My dinner mates were Bastien from Holland, Horst from Germany, my father, and a few people whose names I have not committed to memory yet. Come on, give me a chance here. I’ll get them – I promise. People fleed for their tents immediately after dinner as if a tornado was coming. I opted for one of the special business “shovels” and made my maiden deposit in the Egyption desert. Sorry, but it’s a part of camp life that needed recognition.

Tomorrow morning is a “Mando” stage which simply means that racers cannot scratch this stage from their overall time. 105 miles. Should be interesting.

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****Scott emailed me this post today (1/15)***

This was another “get ready” day filled with last minute packing, gear rearrangement, another rider meeting and finally the weigh-in. Some humorous (and not so much) highlights:

• The previous day’s “fun ride” to the pyramids was cut short due to bad traffic. Thus, 3 of us decided to have our own fun ride this morning. Being as it was Friday (an Islamic holy day), there was no traffic. We received a police escort most of the way to these lesser pyramids and most of the way back too!
• My father buying 3+ cases of Snickers bars on his grocery run and then getting rather upset when he could only sell roughly 1/2 of them. He claims people told him during breakfast to “buy all you can”. I was at that same breakfast and only recall orders for approximately 20 bars. He was later accused of price gouging by one of the other riders.
• Playing tetris with all of the items that needed to go into the bags. Admittedly it was a 2-factor problem: I had too much stuff and the bag I had was too small. For the record, I wasn’t overweight. In order to ensure full support for the tour, the organization decided to hold back the regular support trucks that house our lockers and have it meet us in Sudan should there be no issues with the ongoing separation of the country. I didn’t know I could only use 2 bags. Honest.

The final weigh-in was rather anti-climactic with me having ~15 pounds to spare even after loading up on energy drink powder (from home) and loads of snacks purchased locally. All is set for the big day…

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