Stage 2 - From Khartoum to Addis Ababa

Four long cycling days brought us to the border town of Galabat. An exit stamp in my passport, and I was free to walk across the ramshackle old bridge into Ethiopia. Immigration procedures were conducted by a man sitting in a mud hut, working his way laboriously through 50 passports, whilst young boys brought warm beer to the group for a dollar a bottle. Needless to say, business was brisk…

After several near misses, on a dusty, rutted off-road track south of Mtema, I finally fell off my bike. At least I did so in spectacular fashion, hurtling downwards through the sand, totally out of control, pulling wildly on my brakes, and screaming in anticipation of the end result. I came to a halt with a thud, just behind a startled Anne Price, my cycling companion for the day. Cuts and bruises to knees and ego, but no lasting damage done. It was a case of too much confidence and too little ability!

"You, you, you, you, you, stop cycle, stop, stop, money, money, money, give, give, you, you, you, farangi (foreigner), farangi, farangi, hello, hello, salamno, you, you, you, pen, pen, money, money, your money, where you go, where you go, farangi, you, you, farangi, where you from, give, give, money, money, what your name, you, you, you, you, you."

So goes the relentless mantra of the children at the side of the Ethiopian roads. It is accompanied by the throwing of stones and rocks, the hurtling of sticks, by amazement, annoyance, naivety, curiosity, frustration, anger, hatred, laughter, aggression, hope, expectation, fascination, confusion, brashness, bravado and disproportionate excitement and hysteria.

Ethiopia is a hard country. The people are hard, bearing the historical scars of war and famine firmly on their chests.

Ethiopia is also an incredibly beautiful country. I have been amazed at cycling through mountainous, greenery, rolling hills full of cattle grazing, and crops growing, sweeping winding lanes across valleys and moorland. The land is well worked by shepherds and farmers, and belies the troubles experienced during the drought in the 1980s. It has provided some of the best cycling terrain I have covered. At times, the scene has been almost medieval. Shepherds, dressed roughly in kid skin shoes and blankets, marching to market on dusty roads, carrying their wares for sale; chickens, hay, onions, garlic, milk, goats and cows. It is an illusion only very rarely spoilt by the occasional bow to the 21st century - a woman carrying an umbrella, a boy wearing a Manchester United football shirt.

I powered my way up the 22 km long Blue Nile Gorge, climbing to 2300 meters, to win the non-racers time trial in 2 hours and 18 minutes. It is a competition that adds some extra motivation to the Tour, if any were needed. The next day, the group cycled to the highest point of the trip overall, 3,120 meters (that's almost 10,000 feet) and certainly the highest I have ever cycled.

It was followed by a descent into the capital city Addis Ababa, where I am taking a welcome day's rest.

In section 2 of the tour I took a couple of days out to visit the monolithic underground churches in Lalibela. They were created miraculously from a single piece of stone, chiselled into shape by 45,000 volunteers in the 12th century, at the behest of King Lalibela. He wanted to create the second Jerusalem, where pilgrims could visit in peace. With very few tourists being able to reach the site, he certainly achieves that.

This excursion, and a heavy cold, meant that I cycled 766 miles of the 917 miles available on this section. And…no punctures.