High Performance Riding

NorthCape-SouthCape: 060120

Super entrepreneurs

450kms today between desert camp and Deeba, hot enough and the first proper Africa day, a long, hard day.
It was past midnight before we had finished. The moon hung high in the sky in the middle of nowhere between Dongola and Wadi Halfa. Couldn’t resist taking a photo of our Tentipi-Hilton, five stars, all included except shoe-polish machine.
The first stop for the day, for some discussion about choice of road and suddenly the local populations turns up.

When the tank was almost dry on the demanding bit between Wadi Halfa and Dongola we found a hut with a faded Coca Cola sign by the road. We stopped for a drink and some bread. Mohammed was the owner, a lovely guy. First he sold bread and drinks, then coffee und finally realised we needed petrol. Out of the blue he produced a can with four litres. Ian found the fluid dubious and I answered he must know, being the expert on petroleum products among us. Ian quickly shouldered the role of expert and after smelling it, adopted a laid-back attitude and delivered the answer: “Unleaded 95."

Finally we found that Mohammed also had a bus service, two characters living on different continents, but joined by a mutual ambition. These gentlemen have what is mostly lacking in Sweden and very much in the north, a sense of entrepreneurship.

After a while in the desert with only rocks and sand it is quite a sight to see the Nile spread out in front of you, providing a totally different ground for a different kind of life. It is a variable landscape we have the pleasure of seeing here.
What would my local police say if they saw this transport between Piteå and Luleå? I counted to 24 persons on this Toyota Hilux. Most buses have safety belts in Sweden these days. How many belts the competitor from Sudan has, I don’t know.

The ferry across the Nile was not easy to find. My map said the place was almost 40kms before Gondola and after some help with the GPS – condemned by Lukas – the ferry finally turned up. Or rather the wreck. The ferry may have been there a couple of years ago, but now there were only small barges left, the size of my little boat in Kimtjärn. Then we understood there must be another crossing further down the river. After much discussion we found the place across from the town of Gondola. Lots of people, good will and bristling commerce, selling anything under the sun. I like this lively pulse at African markets.

This was the first real day in Africa, hard on all of us. This was the first experience of a Dakar for Mikko, Stefan and Ian. To use the theory behind “The only way around, is straight through!”. In reality it is easier said than done
The cars and the bikes were separated all day and night. We rode as far as we could in daylight and when it got dark, we couldn’t find a place to sleep. I navigated as well as I could in the dark, but saw that we took too many risks. I used the philosophy from the north and rode for the first light I could see. If there is light, there must be people and perhaps a bed to buy. The place was a mosque and at first I got permission to sleep there. When everybody went outside to look at the bikes, Lukas was convinced it was a Bin Laden school and we decided to push on in the darkness.
Finally we found a hotel in Deeba, the Blue Star Hotel, and behind the door was goat chewing on something indefinable. This eminent hotel was not marked on the Michelin map, though!

The food today was limited to two bread and one fried egg. We slept with the bike clothes as blankets and the smell of three sweaty and dirty gentlemen attracted mosquitoes. The mosquito net and the food were in Mikko’s car, neatly stashed away. Luckily, Ian had some insect spray in his well-kitted tank bag. I crossed myself, spat towards the black cat three times and went to sleep with Ian’s comforting comment: “This is no season for malaria ".
/PG