Tanzania Cycle Trek for Teenage Cancer Trust or No Passport, No Snakes and definitely no Gerbils!

5th September 2003

Heathrow Airport – arrived with Jenny and Grace in plenty of time. They are off to stay with Jenny’s sister for the weekend – both girls are pregnant, due December (Jenny) and January (Elizabeth) so lots of baby talk expected. Grace has Jeremy Giraffe, my leaving present, which worked wonders whilst I was away, keeping her happy when she wanted to see or talk to me.

Meet up with Mike (Leader), John (Medic), Mike, Rod and eventually Ian (it’s a long way from Norfolk!). A happy band, some knowing exactly what to expect (Mike has been on 6 similar trips with other charities), some not having the faintest idea – yours truly, never been camping (even in the back garden). Rod needs some currency – should he get it when we get through check-in? I suggest he does it now as we are in a long queue. Best decision of the trip – he comes back from the bureau de change announcing that although he has a photocopy of his passport, the original is in the photocopier, 40 miles away!!

To cut a long and tortuous story short, a miracle taxi driver gets it to us with 2 minutes to spare, and we can all travel together. Rod would prove to be full of such stories, and kept us entertained throughout the trip!

6th September 2003

After a very good flight (we all had some sleep), and having been told that we needed Kenyan Visas (we all have Tanzania Visas only), we arrive at Nairobi Airport. We hand over $20 each, and then watch our passports be stamped by a crazy stamp fiend (for one trip to Tanzania from Kenya, and one back, I ended up with 11 stamps) before heading to the exit to find our tour guide, spiritual leader, beer supplier, soon to be friend and most importantly Swahili speaking crazy Kenyan, Clive of Tanzania Rift Valley Tours.

We load bikes (three have brought their own) and all our packs into / onto a 4x4 and trailer before heading from Nairobi to Namanga, for the crossing into Tanzania. Just before the border, we stop for a packed lunch, and experience our first (and remarkably not last!) taste of Kilimanjaro Beer. It is a good job we had the picture of Kili on the label, as we never got to see the mountain itself (as you will read later).

Over an hour of more stamping, form filling and checking and we are in Tanzania! Now just a 2 hour drive to camp. Just as we pull off the road to our already established camp, it starts to rain – for the first time in 3 months! Is this a portent of things to come, or just a welcome refresher for the very dry ground? It turns out to be the latter.
3.30pm local time we alight from the 4x4 to see four tents (2 men to a tent except Clive who gets privileged treatment (well, he is the governor)) and a “mess tent” which keeps us dry while we have our first cup of Kilimanjaro Tea (note: this is now available whilst stocks last on the TFSL menu of drinks) and unpack.

The bikes are then set up to our personal specifications (I asked for a motor but none was forthcoming) by Eddie, our trusty mechanic and cycling companion for the coming days, and four of the six travellers have a shower – in a green tent already erected (next to the one containing the thunderbox (NOT to be confused!) – and two mad men (guess who was one) elect to have theirs in the morning, at 6.00am.

Local Maasai are more interested in us than we are in them, and herd their goats and cattle around the camp several times. There are trees that look a bit like animals in the distance, but we all agree they are actually trees (this is important, and you will read why next day).

Apparently, it is a Teenage Cancer Trust standard that all trekkers (we are the first to bike) have smoked salmon before starting. We have transported two packs of smoked salmon and sliced bread all the way from the UK, and I purchased a fine bottle of Premier Cru Chablis in Duty Free. Lemon and pepper are added to taste in the sandwiches, the Chablis is drunk from soon to be familiar red plastic mugs (they had Tea in not long before, but have already been washed by Jackson (the excellent cook) and his team), and then we are ready for our first authentic Tanzanian meal, eaten by moonlight (actually, this is a romantic vision, as it was cloudy and we had flashlights and an oil lamp!) round a trestle table.

So, I hear you ask, what is a traditional Tanzanian meal? Frankly, I still have no idea! We were so well catered for (menus will appear throughout this diary record) that, with the exception of the wonderful fresh local fruit, we ate more like we would in a restaurant than in a camp, and all was prepared fresh by Jackson and the boys over a fire, in big pans, and often at very short notice – great work chaps.

(Note: Despite this luxury, we were only too aware of the problems locally – we had no access to drinkable water unless we a) bought bottled or b) drank the copious amounts supplied by Clive and the gang which was treated specially for us. For 24 hours, all I could taste was chlorine; by the end I couldn’t notice the difference. Whilst cycling, I personally drank between 8 and 11 litres a day! Water, as the world over, is big news wherever we went. A regular, safe supply would change these people’s lives instantly.)

7th September 2003

6.00am Actually, I left out one note from the day before. We all went to our beds (sleeping bags) at about 8.00pm local time, having been more than 36 hours from our own beds. Local Maasai were hired to “guard” the camp overnight (I suspect the deal was $1 and breakfast).

A howling gale picked up between 8 and 10pm, and I woke at 10.30, needing to attend to a call of nature, and very conscious not to wake my tent companion John. I carefully and quietly undo the tent door (zipped) and just as I step out, I look up to be confronted, about 7 feet away, by a 6 foot Maasai in full regalia and holding a spear. If I hadn’t needed to go before, I do now! I trip over the tent in my surprise, and wake John.

As I re-enter the tent, John is now fully awake. He thinks it is 6.00am and is ready to get up! I slept a total of 9 hours, which is more than John managed the whole trip – he must have been worrying about us mad cyclists and the injuries we were going to sustain.

Rod and Ian started a nightly ritual of a wee dram whenever either of them woke (also purchased at Duty Free) and another which resulted in strange noises as they wandered around outside their tent, usually at 2.30am – best left to your imagination.

6.00am again! I take a shower (very refreshing, walking across the savannah in just a towel as the sun rises – I believe I may have entered Maasai folklore). There should be a wonderful view of Mount Kilimanjaro, but it is, as it always will be on this trip, in cloud. Now, our first breakfast, as will become routine, at 7.00am.

Remember the animals that were really trees last night? Ian is now certain they are animals, and wants to know which sort! It takes a long time to convince him (six days).

8.00am Photograph of the happy band of TCT fundraisers. We set off, slowly, down the track which will take us to the road and a long uphill stretch (about 20 kilometres). The track is of black, volcanic in origin, sand, some hard, some quite soft.

At this point, before incriminating myself, I must stress that all five riders (Mike, Keith, Rod, Ian and I) all had at least one fall, some having three! 4 of the 5 needed medical treatment of some sort. Only I did not. However, …

I fell off only 2 minutes into the ride! Gracelessly, to my right, having misjudged the depth of the sand. Although no one laughed or said anything, I suspect they were already wondering why I was there. Come to think of it …..

We were soon on the road, going uphill (forever?) – we should have realised at this point, but Clive always gave us distances “as the crow flies” and, needless to say, we were not crows. Ian quickly shows us all a clean pair of heels – he is only 62, and cycles a mere 120 to 200 miles a week normally. Hang on, what’s normal about that? If I make 62, I hope I can replicate his outstanding effort over the trip. Rod too – he is here for his 60th birthday present, back in July, and, although he has a bit more “in the larder” than most of us, his inherent strength and athletic ability (see 8th September) stand him in good stead too. Keith has already shown that he will travel at his own pace and, given his own wounds later also showed us his never-say-die attitude. Mike, leader and diplomat, always giving off an aura of calm, was clearly the best cyclist by a mile. Later on this day he was 1 kilometre behind Ian and I, cycled up to us to see how we were doing, and then dropped back to be with the other guys – I am not sure he broke into a sweat apart from on the 80 kilometre day, when we all very nearly collapsed.

Back to today, Ian, who uses cleats (which keep his shoes attached to the “pedals”) for power, begins to think he should take them off. We were warned to go to the side of the road, or even off it, if anyone looked like getting close to us, as the law of the road is that there is no law of the road. Well, we hear a truck approaching as he and I are off at the front, he pulls onto the dirt (we were on tarmac at the time) and tries to stop his bike. It stops, but he can’t get his feet out of the cleats, so he and bike slowly collapse to the left, Ian still fully attached. He laughed about it later – I laughed at the time – sorry Ian.

Then – a downhill stretch! But, in a perverse way, distances taken from Clive, not as far as we thought downhill. We broke off the road through a coffee plantation for a while, and then back to the road to cycle towards Mesarani, and the camp, established at the local Snake Park (obviously).

We did the last 14 kilometres in 45 minutes, and, after 64 kilometres in the day, I could not have gone another 100 metres when we arrived at our destination. 1.00pm – 64 kilometres in 5 hours, half uphill or off road, with stops for snacks and drinks – I begin to realise (quite a big moment) that I can do this crazy trip – YES!

Mesarani Snake Park is a proper camp site, with a toilet and shower block. HOWEVER, we all wish for the single shower and thunderbox when a) we realise it hasn’t been cleaned since 1975 and b) whilst taking a shower Mike discovers a live electricity wire about 2 inches from the shower head. However, we still have Jackson cooking!

Mesarani Snake Park is a proper camp site, with a toilet and shower block. HOWEVER, we all wish for the single shower and thunderbox when a) we realise it hasn’t been cleaned since 1975 and b) whilst taking a shower Mike discovers a live electricity wire about 2 inches from the shower head. However, we still have Jackson cooking!

For fun (we must be mad, Keith sensibly declines) we do a gentle 7 kilometres in the afternoon. We come across local children who first of all chase us for distances normally reserved for the Olympics and then badger us for food. I relent, offering a Fruesli bar, which is devoured. On the way back, the big thing is being able to ring a bicycle bell – we could still have been there now.

Clive tells us all about the Puff (rhymes with rough!) Adder (which will probably kill us if it gets us, and the 500+ others which won’t, and Ian displays a reasonably natural aversion! Clive points out that the snake park was built here because, well, it is an area known for its abundance of snakes! Ian is less chuffed again.

Following “those” showers, it is time to relax – Kili beer again.

Rod and I apparently have an inexhaustible supply of Jokes (we weren’t encouraged to do this every night!), and we told most of them. During this, we all shared our most embarrassing moments (not reproduced by mutual agreement), although one, by hearsay, involved a Gerbil, and this became a bit of a theme. Ian’s Gerbil dance (you had to be there) will live with me forever.

Just time to buy Jackson, Eddie etc. a drink in the bar, then bedtime.

8th September 2003

6.00am Up.

7.00am Breakfast ( you might be spotting a pattern here)

8.10am – slightly late, we leave. A short road section past an army base (no photographs here as they all have AK47s) and then onto our first real off road experience. Meet local Maasai.

Some of this route is quite tricky. Ian and Rod get ahead, me next, then Mike and Keith. I am pleased to be able to pick up the pace and bridge a gap to Ian and Rod, we take some photographs and stop for water.

We wonder why we can’t see Keith, Mike and Eddie, and then the 4x4 gets to us (John is riding shotgun, nothing to do for over a day so far). He has now!

Keith has taken a nasty fall, and has hurt his knee, thigh and arm, as well as his shoulder. John administers various “goodies” and Keith announces he will continue – I must admit, I think I would have had a ride in the 4x4 for a while, if it had been me.

Having started the day at about 3,500 feet above sea level, we climb steadily (some very tricky, off road, sand and gravel/ rocky hills), with wonderful views over very open country, until lunch at about 12.40pm. We have travelled 40 kilometres exactly, and have climbed to 4,500 feet.

Lunch is taken by the road, where we see lots of local life, such as Maasai herding cattle, goats and donkeys, donkeys carrying large water butts, and, of course, a Claas Combine Harvester!

We all rest for about an hour, then head off again at 2.45pm. This is the start of what should be a long ride, which is curtailed as you will read. Ian does his same trick of falling off whilst attached to his bike, and then we hit a long, very fast downhill section – not just off road, more like a moonscape! Rod comes into his own here, and he and I hurtle down at between 40 and 50 kph – frankly, I had my eyes closed for a lot of it!

We all rest for about an hour, then head off again at 2.45pm. This is the start of what should be a long ride, which is curtailed as you will read. Ian does his same trick of falling off whilst attached to his bike, and then we hit a long, very fast downhill section – not just off road, more like a moonscape! Rod comes into his own here, and he and I hurtle down at between 40 and 50 kph – frankly, I had my eyes closed for a lot of it!

Once onto a flatter section we come across fresh elephant dung – fortunately (as romantic as it might be) we don’t meet a fresh elephant. Nevertheless, there is obviously at least one around, so we keep our eyes peeled. We come to a river bed, where we meet local Maasai who have dug a deep hole to reach water. They are “tooled up” to deal with any elephant (they seem to be expecting one) which tries to take their supply. The river bed is not just dry, it is deep sand.

Within a few minutes of starting again, we stop by a massive Baobab tree, probably 400 years old. We are all photographed, side by side, in front of it, and you can still see the tree either side of us. As we leave here, there is a steep downhill section.
Ian goes first, gingerly but safely, Rod follows, as I wait at the top to check he gets down before I set off. A wise decision. Rod tells us he was a gymnast earlier in life – I also think his middle name must be “Lucky” – he has just about completed the downhill bit when he loses concentration for a split second, and his front wheel goes off the main track into a gully. Here, it is stopped abruptly by sand/ a tree trunk, and he goes over the handlebars! Landing hard, he quickly rolls, just as his bike lands on him. I have stopped two metres short and I am shaking, so heaven knows how he is. I have visions of splints and air ambulances.

Instead, as you would if you were 60 in July, he jumps straight up, dusts himself down and announces he is OK. After a quick check up and some magic spray from John, off we go again, Ian in front, Rod and I next, closely followed by Mike, Keith and Eddie. We have lost quite a bit of time and it is now nearly 6.00pm.

We are half way up a steep hill when the 4x4 turns around and heads back towards us – the area we were to camp in has been burnt, and we will stop at the foot of the hill, in a small “clearing” – it isn’t clear now, but will be in minutes. The 4x4 and the kitchen truck stop, everyone alights, 58 kilometres only today means tomorrow will be much harder to catch up. Oh good!

The shower is rigged up under a tree, and, due to uneven ground, tied to it. This proves to be good news for me - read on. The thunderbox is hidden a good way away from the tents, near the sort of place you might find snakes – Ian takes his time plucking up the courage to use it!

We all shower, in no particular order, although, for reasons best known to him, Keith runs out of water whilst still covered in soap, and takes about 30 minutes to be done. Maybe this is why I am in a hurry when I get in, as the option is completely open under another tree (snakes?), where Ian has already completed his cleansing for the night.

I am nearly complete when I slip on the plastic sheet, and grab the tent in a vain hope to keep myself and the entire contraption upright. Thanks here to the tree, as the rope holds the tent and I up, just. I recover and look a bit sheepish as I leave, but no one has noticed. Well, now they know! Mike also bought a bottle of Malt at Duty Free and, remarkably, it is still unopened. Not for long!

Malarone (malaria) tablets (this has happened since the night before we went, and finishes a week after we return – should have mentioned it earlier but not that interesting!)

Bed at about 10.00pm, after a very interesting talk from Clive about the Maasai. He explains a great deal about the different shapes and colours of clothing, hairstyle etc. that we have already seen, and tells us graphically about some of the local customs. We won’t be attempting too many of them!

9th September 2003

Woke at 6.00am, after a great 8 hours of sleep. Still nocturnal wanderings by Ian and Rod, but at least we know they will be first course for any predators that find us!

7.00am Breakfast. Routine is good.

Leave intended for 7.30, actually got away at 7.45am. We weren’t to know it but today would be even harder than Clive had warned us and, with the honourable exception of Mike who has done others, was I believe the hardest cycling any of the rest of us have ever completed. Before going, I cycled the 58 mile (92 kilometre) Suffolk Coastal Ride, between Woodbridge and Dunwich and back, on the hottest day ever recorded in the UK – that was a daydream compared to today.

We start with the uphill section that we got halfway up yesterday. Keith and Rod both have falls. I set off just ahead of the others and soon find myself (maybe I went a bit quick but I’m now loving it) ahead, on my own, following a single track through tall grass and scrub. I stop only slightly concerned that I might have gone wrong as I can see neither my colleagues behind nor the 4x4 ahead. I wait about three minutes for Ian and then Rod to appear, we go on, and about 100 metres ahead, just around a corner, is the 4x4 – fool!

Keith really has no luck – his bike now breaks! Literally. So, a spare is set up, and off we go again. We are a bit behind time, so after only 38 kilometres, all off road, we should stop for lunch. Clive says just do the next road bit, it’s about 12 kilometres (remember those crows?) 18 kilometres later (in only 40 minutes – the quickest section I did, with Ian alongside me) we stop for lunch – 1.00pm.

I try my mobile telephone. I am in the middle of Tanzania, miles from anywhere, and I have a full signal. I ring Jenny – great to talk to her. She and Grace are well, and the article planned for the Racing Post appeared on Monday (8th September) and subsequently brought in another £500 or so.

2.45pm we set off again. Another 14 kilometres (Clive said 8) on road, then onto the main road to the capital, Dodoma. It is about 360 kilometres, and you would not allow a tank to use it! The word “road” has never been used more inappropriately! We only have to do 9 kilometres on it, but the temperature is now high 90s, and we are all suffering. We stopped 4 times on that 9 kilometres, and it took over an hour (70-80 minutes I think) to complete. I was run off the road by a tinted windscreened 4x4, we are all suffering (I know I have repeated myself, but it is important you understand). We are all suffering.

It is now only 5 or 6 kilometres to camp (we will kill Clive if this one is wrong) and mercifully that is accurate. We stop in a most idyllic clearing, surrounded by palm trees, about 3 kilometres from the edge of Lake Manyara.

I “bags” the shower first, and we all get ready for dinner. Clive has two suggestions, both very astute. First, we must all take a rehydration drink. Then we must all take some local medicine. “Dawa” is made from local Gin, local Honey and local Lime, and is mixed by Clive to an old recipe …. You don’t need to know the rest. Suffice it to say he ran out!

Dinner was, frankly, amazing.

I then wrote “etc.” in my notes. Ian fell asleep at the table and, the next morning, could not even remember eating! There was a full moon, Mars was clearly visible, and Clive talked about the stars, Lake Manyara, Flamingos etc. What a day – 80 kilometres, heat, exhaustion, broken bikes, injuries, malaria tablets – but then you remember why you are doing it. We are all five of us really very lucky … 

10th September 2003

6.00am Up. 6.15am Spectacular sunrise. I get Mike to help me perform “fire through the medium of dance” which gets me more sponsorship when I prove with photos in the UK (thanks Jason) and I get a text message from Dale, Julie and George (my brother, sister-in-law and nephew) – technology! Last night, Hyena came very close to camp. Very close is close enough, thank you.

7.00am – you guessed it.

Very hot from the start today. We have been blessed with cloudy starts most days, which really help, but it will be sunny all day today. Fantastic, leisurely cycle to Lake Manyara which, in the words of Spike Milligan “isn’t there!” Before we know it, we are actually cycling on the Lake, which, at this point, has completely dried up! We see hundreds and thousands of Flamingo footprints in the dried up sand – we are the first people over here since they left. That is quite a feeling. We stop and draw “TCT” in the sand with our bikes, and get some great photos. This was the high spot for me – reminding us why we are there, with people I now call friends (I am not sure they agree!), pioneering a Charity Cycle ride for Teenage Cancer Trust.

Sadly, we have to ride again, so we turn and head back for the tree line, seeing a Jackal and Thomson Gazelle on the way. We cycle into the trees (not literally) and through, heading for a tree on a hill that looks as if we will never reach it. There are no discernable tracks, we just cycle through tall, thick grass, with the odd bit of flat ground for “luxury” riding. We come across hundreds of rocks, all fossils. Clive is an expert and we spend a very enjoyable few minutes refreshing water and looking around here. Then onwards – the tree is reached! Now only 14 kilometres of tarmac before we can have a snack stop.

We cycle over to a big tree (not a Baobab, so not that big), and, with no tracks to follow, I have another fall. Again unharmed – someone loves me! We sit and eat crisps, peanuts, cashews and Mars Bars, all great for energy, and then, before we know it, and before Ian can worry too much about snakes liking trees, we are off again.

• Minestrone Soup
• Roast Chicken (cold) and Pasta Salad
• Water Melon
• Rehydration drink
• Cup of Tea

We then walk a short distance to our camp. When we first arrived for lunch, we were amazed to be met by four horses and their riders, also out on a trip, who had “stolen” our intended lunch place.

• Leek Soup
• Rump Steak (gorgeous)
• Carrots, Roast Potatoes and Coleslaw Salad
• Fresh Pineapple
• Kili Beer
• Laphraoig and Water (yes, really)

A fire has been lit in the river bed, and the local Maasai “wild boys” have come to show us some traditional dance. Wow! After one dance I commented that I fancied a go, and after three different languages have been used to translate, I am on the end of the “adults” line, holding a stick and jumping from foot to foot whilst chanting for 4 minutes. I don’t know why they were laughing – they hadn’t cycled 250 kilometres in the last 4 days!

I go to bed dreaming of hunting elephants with just a spear. Sadly, this proves to be based on the sounds emanating from outside our tent - Ian and his nocturnal wanderings!!

11th September 2003

I am very conscious of the date. We have been away from news, radio, television, papers etc. for 6 days, and today we will sleep in a hotel bed (not all in the same one, you understand). At this stage (6.00am), I know I will finish, but have no idea quite what is in store! There is a great sunrise again, and the full moon is still up too.

7.00am – last Jackson breakfast.

Take photographs of us all before the last stage, (John and Clive going with us today) photos of Jackson cooking, the camp etc. When we headed out here, I was most in trepidation about the camping – well, Clive and his team served us proud.

I suspect you could even say, in the circumstances, we were spoilt. If you want a spectacular and very personal tour of the Rift Valley, Tanzania Rift Valley Tours – Clive Dougherty. Box 41017 Nairobi, Kenya. 10 out of 10.
 
We only had to ride about 20 kilometres to the road at Mto wa Mbu, at the foot of the escarpment – what could be difficult about that?

White sand, flat plain, no cloud, no air – 110 degrees. Even writing this makes me hot and dry in the mouth. My notes say we stop in town for a coca cola. That should read collapse.

The ride up the escarpment is only about 4 kilometres. It is only 1,000 feet from bottom to top. And it is on a road. I used 16 of my 21 gears going up, mainly the bottom three. We stopped a couple of times and, from a great height, I saw my only Giraffe of the trip, below in the Manyara National Park.