The remaining kilometers from Khartoum to the border were a long hard slog. After leaving the Sudanese capital the roads were incredibly busy with buses hurtling past forcing off the asphelt onto the adjacent sandy track. After 200km I was able to turn off the main road and headed into the desert only to be met by a strong cross wind. At least I was able to sleep out under the desert stars and benefit from the fantastic Sudanese hospitality – I even managed to get invited to spend the night with one family.
The crossing into Ethiopia was pretty straightforward. Within a few kilometers the gentle ascent I’d made through Egypt and Sudan started to get much steeper cumulating in a 10km stretch of steep climbing forcing me to push the sections that were not tarred. The beautiful scenery, so different from the Sudanese desert, provided an incredible backdrop and after a few thousand kilometers on the flat it was good to have a change.
Once the climb to 2000m into the Highlands was complete the cycling became much easier. The country is a patchwork of high plateaus which undulate between 1800 and 3200m. Climbs rarely exceed 5km. The exception to this comes when you have to hop across from one plateau to the next the most notable being the Blue Nile Gorge. In terms of scale this deep gorge is in the same league as the Grand Canyon. At the bottom lies the Blue Nile – the last time I’ll see the river which I have followed on and off since Cairo – just 800m above sea level whilst the top of the adjacent plateau is over 3000m.
The 20km descent took over an hour as I had to ensure the heat from my brakes did not cause my wheels to warp as in the Alps. The ascent took much longer. The steepest section of the climb was a 25km section to 2400m and took four hard hours. Once complete the road continues to rise on and off for another 50km until your at over 3100m. At this height even gentle slopes become difficult and as with the mountain passes in Switzerland the thin air made me feel increasingly light headed. Ascending nearly 2500m and cycling 100km made for my hardest day on the road so far.
Whilst the cycling here is physically tiring it is nothing compared to how mentally draining Ethiopia has proved. The country’s population is located around the roads and everywhere you look there appear to be people watching you. There is no peace. Bush camping becomes a local tourist attraction.
The local children are incredibly inquisitive. When they see you cycling along they will run to the road shouting at you. Their chants of “YOU, YOU, YOU, MONEY” initially seem harmless but after you hear it thousands of time a day it does push your patience. It’s not just what they are saying but the aggressive tone they say it.
Whilst I can forgive them for their continuous shouting, pelting me with stones and throwing sticks into my spokes is harder to understand. Whilst it is the minority who do this – perhaps only a couple of dozen a day none of which have cause any serious harm it is infuriating. What really riles me is when your struggling up a difficult climb desperately trying to ignore the cries of the kids running alongside you – they really can run here – the little gremlins eventually start to run out of breath and rather then give up simply grab onto your bike to stop you. At times it almost seems like a war – me versus every child under the age of 12.
The past few days I’ve been pushed too far. On one occasion I jumped off my bike and tried to hunt down one of the kids who had pelted me. After five humiliating minutes running around the hillside effing and blinding in front of an increasingly large crowd I gave up. The cumulation of a day of abuse had manage to really work me up and determined to teach this particular boy a lesson I rounded up one of his goats he had left unattended when he scarpered strapped it to the back of the bike and tried to set off down the hill. The plan to drop it off a few kilometers down the road unfortunately had to be aborted when I realized that having a live goat wriggling around on a bike with you makes for pretty tricky cycling.
Another gremlin who threw one stone to many also ran off but made the fatal mistake off running into his house only to find himself corned in his bedroom by an angry, sweaty white man seeking revenge. Eventually I handed the little brute (all 3ft 6 of him) of to his mother and the police for a ticking off. One down several million to go…
Travelling through Egypt and Sudan I’d met overlanders heading north who proudly told tales of capturing the stone throwers. I was pretty horrified – taking on a 10 year old Ethiopian kid is hardly fair game. Having spent a week feel continually wound up by the brutes I can entirely sympathize with them.
Whilst it is difficult not to feel sorry for these kids who have such difficult lives I fear my overwhelming memory of this beautiful country will be the feeling of being continually harassed by an army of 10 year olds. Something must have gone badly wrong if these children who have been brought up on a diet of western handouts pursue every white man they see with demands for money, clothes, pens rather than make any effort to earn it.
The saving grace has been that soon after entering the country a met a Swedish cyclist also heading south so at least we can laugh about it all over one of our six meals a day and a few beers in the evening.
I’ve now cycled just under 7,500km and according to my GPS I’m now closer to Cape Town than Northamptonshire. I suspect though that I have only completed the easiest art oof my journey
From here in Addis I head south to Kenya – I hope the natives prove more friendly.
All the best
George xx