Stage 7 - From Victoria Falls to Windhoek
 

This section of the Tour d’Afrique involves the most miles cycled in the least number of days. Almost 100 miles a day for 10 intensive days. It demands focus and structure and to complete it, I employed a routine, honed in Egypt and Sudan when long cycling days were the norm.

So here, with a slant to the Elephant Highway, is my typical day on the Tour d’Afrique.

My alarm beeps at me at 5.25 am. Usually, I wake ten minutes earlier, the body clock being as efficient as my new Timex Expedition, bought in Lilongwe, when my previous watch stopped for good. I can already hear fellow cyclists unzipping tents, deflating sleeping mats and squeezing kit into bags too small. I remind myself, “What is it today? Oh, only 95 miles. A ‘shorter’ day!” In my bleary-eyed state, I try to choose some clothes. I pull the sleeveless yellow cycling top out of my bag. I wore that yesterday, but what the heck, one more day of sweat and dust…it will be ok. Toothbrush in one hand, water bottle in the other, I dismantle my tent and pack my bags.

\The trucks open at 6 am. The crew play some music loudly from the CD player. It will be something appropriate for the day. There are no limits. We have had everything from “Morning Has Broken” to “The Road to Hell”. Today it is “The Long and Winding Road”. They have got it wrong. The road IS long, but it is straight as a die. Coffee is brewing, porridge is steaming and both go down a treat. The autumn air has a cold bite to it as the sun struggles through a glowing red sky. It is easy to become blaze about the dawn here in Africa, Stars and planets compete to the last, with the rising sun and the setting moon; the silence is broken only by the dawn chorus of birds in our bush camp.

I check my bike one last time, and hit the road. It is never later than 7 am and the first hour of cycling is always my favourite. Empty roads, the cool of the dawn, the freshness of my legs. I can only hear the brush of my tyres on the tarmac and the wind past my ears. Soon, faster cyclists pass me with a wave and a “hello”. It has become a comforting routine. Firstly, the racers, with Alan Benn and Taryn Laurie, leaders in the men’s and women’s race, followed by a small group, who make it all look so easy. Then the Canadians – Sven, John and Frank, with a few others for company. They will be at camp by 1pm. With me, are the ones who like to linger, discover villages, coffee and tea stops, bird-watch and chat. The French Canadians are among them, Sonia, Isobel and Jolyanne, along with Michel and Denis. Behind me, a smaller group of slower riders; Texan John Davies, the oldest in the group, Ernst, Anne, Eduard on his recumbent, and Siobhan.

For a moment, I am cycling alone, as solitude seems appropriate in this vast, empty quiet landscape. And then, a moment to take my breath away. I glance to my right and there, standing supreme on the grass by the roadside, is a huge grey bull elephant. Full-grown, maybe 4 meters in height. I brake and stop, fumbling for my camera. Gasping is awe, I look the elephant in the eye. He could charge, but he is shy and backs away to hide behind a tree. I cycle on, elated to have had such an encounter on the Elephant Highway.

After 50 miles, I can see the familiar white dot on the horizon. The Lunch Truck is parked and a treat is waiting for us. Cheese and tomato omelette sandwiches! Francis has done us proud! The afternoon is often hot and tiring, and however basic the bush camp is, it is a welcoming place to reach. I pitch my tent in the shade, find a private spot in the bush to throw a bottle of water over myself – a luxury shower! – and join the group to debrief the day over dinner.

The sun sets before 7pm, and exhausted cyclists crawl into their sleeping bags not long afterwards. All that is left is the call of a bird, the hoot of an owl, and sleep. It is just another day on the Tour d’Afrique….