Lalibela to Addis

I’ll get stuck into travel stories because – well – I’m distracted by channel 2 TV which is unbelievably entertaining after a few weeks of camping. We are in Addis for two days in a relatively expensive hotel (hot water and TV) and then will be heading towards Nairobi – a 1500 km of tough adventure.

“We” is still us on the bikes and the two Swedish brothers Martin and Rickard in their Landrover. When I watched Ewan McGregor and Charlie Boorman’s Long Way Round I remember feeling sick at the thought of taking on a big trip over extreme terrain without a support vehicle – without any support at all. Since Aswan we have been travelling with the guys who have been long-suffering with our punctures and lifting up our bikes when we fall. They are also really funny and as sound as can be. Rickard even got out of the Landy with a baseball bat to chase kids who’ve thrown stones at me. In return, Paul and I have good maps and a GPS that the guys would be lost without. Paul does the cooking and the boys do the dishes. What heroes! Heck, I don’t know what I bring to the team. Not like I’m doing the pretty girl thing and sometimes I really moan about the roads. We make a great team and I couldn’t do it without them.

1 November: Ethiopia – Simian Mountains, Lalibela and Addis

Rested up, we headed north (for a little detour) to see the Simian Mountains that have quite some reputation and completely lived up to all expectations. The mountains are absolutely beautiful but at over 3200 meters altitude – it was freezing.

Next we went to Lalibela to see the very famous Rock Hewn Churches. On the map it’s not much of a detour but in reality, it is. The road is the usual thing here i.e. not tarmac. More dangerous than the roads are the stupid sheep, skittish goats, dopey donkeys, ecstatic children, loping camels, dangerous looking cattle, armed men and over burdened women – all of whom are deaf and have no fear of death. We then decided to take a different route via Dilbe back to the main road to Addis. This turned out to be the worst 60 km of road we’d take on so far. I’m still amazed that I managed to do it at all. Paul did help a few times over particularly rocky river beds so I admit that at times I was a big chicken. My arms were so tired that on two occasions I managed the crossing but rode straight into the opposite bank. Not only was it very difficult getting the bike up or down steep inclines of loose rock but there were youyous running alongside trying to beg! Tell you what, compassion fatigue set in big time!



What are these kids thinking? I realise that over the years the culture of begging has been deeply engrained. The only thing they associate with white people is freebies. But I still think of them running alongside the motorbike on a steep rock incline with hands out shouting “Pen” and wonder if they actually really thought I’d just miraculously ride with one hand on the gas and one eye on the cliff edge while rummaging about for that stash of free pens that I managed to find place for in my tank bag.

Paul in particular has been providing masses of local entertainment. In this respect he has been a patient, untiring saint. (Unlike me who is inclined to snap fuck off after about five seconds of attention.) We did a tyre change in which the two of us did a well practiced team effort and pulled quite a crowd. The final touch that got gasps and a laugh from our audience was when I pulled out the wet wipes to clean our very dirty hands. I was disappointed we didn’t get applause. Paul did an excellent Jamie Oliver show with his little multi fuel cooker and small coffee percolator at a hotel that didn’t even have running water. It was such a good show that the kids ran off to call grandma and all the other local ladies who watched his every move. There were enthralled and delighted as Paul handed out cups of tea and coffee to us.

I am enjoying Ethiopia (still, really) but it can be so hard when trying to sort out things. Access to internet is really slow and practically useless here in any case. Even in the sprawling city of Addis there are mostly shops working out of shacks and so finding dealerships or mechanics is near impossible.

The damage to the bikes is not too serious all things considered – given what the bikes have been through by now and the fuel they are running on. They sound strange and our gears are knackered. I’ve a broken bolt that holds the frame together and can’t seem to find a mechanic who 1. understands the problem and 2. will be able to get the bolt out without wrecking the rest of the bike. It’s a pretty serious problem and right now it’s all held in place with wire that has been twisted around. Hopefully it holds.

While I was having a great break from biking in Gondar I also decided it was time to tackle my hair that seems to be giving my age away. I’d had enough of the grey hair jokes and so bought some hair dye that kind of looked like about the right colour on the box. I can’t seem to age gracefully. Paul says I can’t do anything gracefully… Humph.

The grey was gone and replaced with Ethiopian orange. Its so bad that I’ve been trying to cover it when ever possible – and given I wear a helmet for up to nine hours a day – I’ve mostly managed to ignore the orange. When we arrived in Addis a young lad tried to attract my attention by shouting “Orange.” Ah that did it! I took out some even dodgier looking dye decided to try to dye my hair black. So now I have orange AND black hair. It looks like hell.

So this afternoon, with my very bad hair, I went to the reception of the hotel and asked if they had a telephone directory or could help me find a mechanic nearby.
“No there is no mechanic.”
“Do you have a book for me to look for one?” I do my best telephone directory book mime.
“No mechanic in hotel.”
“Okay. How do I find a mechanic?”
“There is no mechanic.”
“What do you do when you need a mechanic? Do you walk down the road and look for one? How can I find a mechanic?!” I can see she is staring at my hair and is probably thinking that I should be looking for a hairdresser. I smiled and walked away because I had the urge to scream and dive across the counter and strangle her. Let’s face it, when ever would this girl ever look for a mechanic? I just hope the wire bodge-job holds the frame together!