The Third World as seen from the saddle

We swapped out bike helmets yesterday for life jackets for a white knuckle boat ride across Lake Kariba. It was lumpy and bumpy out on the water and my bike got a badly needed washing in the waves.

Huge thanks to Graeme Sharpe and Padenga Farming and John Biss and Avoca Marine for transporting our bikes and trucks across Lake Kariba so we could ride through the Mutusadona.

We rode 47 km through the Park from Changachirera to Tashinga. Having read my last blog, I was fully expecting scenes Out of Africa with sweeping vistas, frolicking gazelles, against the imposing backdrop of the Matusadona mountains blah blah blah, but with me on a bike instead of Robert Redford in a balloon. Bummer. Instead, all I got was thick bush and even thicker sand. I saw 1 impala and the flash of an elephant. The mountains were hidden in haze and the only thing I gazed upon was my very wobbly front wheel in the sand. But it was still very cool to be able to say we rode through the Matusadona.

It was nice to have guest riders John Biss and Belinda Soper. As a child, I’m thinking John screamed loudly whenever his mom took him anywhere near a sand pit. 50 years on, nothing has changed. John hates sand more than I do. I don’t know if Belinda even noticed the sand. I saw the back of her helmet briefly.

I think you can count the number of cyclists who have ridden through Matusadona on 1 hand. We are following in the footsteps of Ash King who was the first to ride Zimbabwe’s borders, along with Linda Warren in 2014. Ash and Linda did it way tougher than us, mapping a route as close to the actual borders as possible.

Thankfully African Parks are set to take over the management of Matusadona. African Parks have rewritten conservation books in 12 countries across Africa. They certainly have their work cut out for them. Tashinga looked beyond tired. But what has been been broken can and will be fixed. I can’t wait to revisit.

Mark and Cathy Brightman from the Bumi Hills Conservation Trust met us in the harbour and gave the riders an escort through their concession. They routed us out via the airstrip to avoid a stretch of thick bush where lions killed a poor unfortunate motor cyclist a few weeks ago.

We bush camped last night at an anti poaching observation point high up on hill overlooking Bumi and Lake Kariba beyond. We enjoyed one of the most memorable sunsets on Tour yet and fell asleep listening to lions calling in the distance. It was as good a night stop as any we have enjoyed on Tour.

The riders were out of camp early this morning to try and break the back of the climb before the heat of the day. We had a thousand meters plus of climb in front of us plus temperatures in the early thirties. So much for winter. The hills up out of Bumi and onto the escarpment were as harsh and steep as any on the Blue Cross, and after just 10 minutes, I was yearning for the flat of the Valley floor behind us.

In anticipation of a long day in the saddle, I went with three layers of padding. My bottom has less meat on it than most and triple padding serves as my Get Out of Jail card, leaving me with only global warming in my nether regions and emergency urination stops to worry about.

I have long run out of superlatives to describe the countryside we are riding through. Gokwe North and the Omay especially surprised with huge widen open vistas, horizons that stretch away
as far as the eye can see and never seem to get any closer, blah blah blah, etcetera etcetera, as per previous blogs. I saw mopane and masasa trees standing side by side in the same forests, which I’m sure shouldn’t happen. We looked down on the Ume River from above but never saw any elephants. The people are friendly. They don’t have much but are quick to smile.

I met the world’s greatest optimist this morning at the bottom of a steep hill at the bottom of the Gokwe escarpment. He asked me if I could give him a lift on my bicycle to the next village but one. That he was walking faster than me at the time didn’t seem to matter to him so I’m guessing he wasn’t in a hurry to get to where he was going.

We had a Mexican standoff with the official manning the Tsetse fly control boom. He wanted to disinfect us and our bikes. I didn’t mind him spraying my bike but my nether regions not so much. While we were arguing, 2 pedestrians passed through the boom. They got away Scott free. When asked the guy said according to his regulations, pedestrians didn’t have to be sprayed, but cyclists did. If we pushed our bikes through the boom would we pass as pedestrians? He said yes. So we pushed our bikes through the boom.

Our night stop is on the banks of the Sengwa River. The headman welcomed us to the area and allocated us a bush camp site overlooking a stretch of dry river bed. Our arrival attracted much interest from the local children who watched us set up camp. Mark sited the toilet tent in a bend in the river beneath camp, private and secluded, apart from an audience of watching children. I felt rather self conscious as I went off to commission the loo. Minutes later I was able to take self conscious to new levels when the wind got up and blew the toilet tent away, leaving me horribly exposed on the throne in an upright fetal position with the job at hand, pardon the pun, half done. My audience laughed muchly at my predicament. Unable to run away, I called up to the camp for help. Carl and Jen rushed down and also laughed. Oh, how I yearn for constipation. Alas.

In another news, last night Stu Chapman made a move on the Dick of the Day stakes. He has honed his ability to lose kit. First he lost his Kindle, then he lost his glasses. Finding his lost Kindle without his glasses will be a proper challenge. Tonight Mark seized the Dick of the Day necklace back and the overall lead for failing to deploy tent pegs on the toilet tent.

Geographically, our finish line is now in sight, sort of, almost. Apparently we are 133 km from Binga. When someone asked me where I am going? I told him Bulawayo. This time for the first time since we left Bulawayo in the 12th of July, I got raised eyebrows only, and not the look reserved for lost imbeciles.

Today we are riding to the Mucheni Gorge in the Chizarira National Park so we can stare down on Africa in all her glory. Please follow us on www.oldlegstour.co.zw.

Until my next blog, survive, enjoy and pedal if you can - Eric Chicken Legs de Jong