The South & South-West Farewell Tour

With redundancy rather inconveniently (in more ways than just timing, it must be noted) for me being timed for the middle of summer, I didn’t waste any time in moving out & leaving the area before heading off on my European bike travels lest the weather get colder.  As such,  I never really said a proper goodbye to all the people in the south & south-west that I’d spent so much time with over the previous three years.

So, another little bike tour was in order to do so.  At least as winter approached & then took hold, I had the luxury of knowing I’d be staying with friends & family – & therefore could carry more clothes in place of sleeping bag, mattress & tent. Luxury. I managed to see many people & almost all that I really wanted to see.  Most of the riding was a means-to-an-end (except for two great final MTB outings around Winchester & on Exmoor), but pleasant as the leaves are all sorts of shades at the moment and the English countryside doesn’t fail to be pretty.  I also managed to time rides so that I’d mostly miss the rain.

Schedules dictated I depart a day earlier than I intended, but as the weather was strangely warm and the first of only two big days was spent riding all day & into the night in shorts & short-sleeve top.  Threading my way across south London & then beyond I followed the Basingstoke canal to the eponymous city before taking the train to Bournemouth.

The next morning it was around 20oC, so I hardly needed much persuasion (actually, it was probably my idea) to get some gelato.

Popping back into the plant (former-work) that afternoon, it was eerily quiet and all rather strange. A couple of hours was enough it was so silent. But it was nice wandering around chatting to those that still survive, for however long that may be.

Great to get out for one last ride on the trails around Winchester with Dan & Chris – my only regular riding buddies I had in the area.

Chris recommended an American burger joint, Seven Bones, excellent food & value. Once again, riding so much just provides an excuse to eat excessively.

Due to timings of visits, I ended up crossing the New Forest four or five times – here along the Bournemouth beachfront as the sun sets.

And my last look at the Isle of Wight – I had some nice long & hilly MTB trips out there.

After a couple of nights in Poole, I used the other half of my return train ticket to get back to Basingstoke and ride north of Reading to Rich’s.

I’m going to miss the history of being in Europe; this a typical discovery while just riding along – a Roman amphitheatre seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

As I was riding through a park in the north-west outskirts of Reading I heard a loud & obnoxious ringing – eventually I saw that it was coming from a phone on top of a bin. Thinking that someone had probably lost it, I answered it feeling I was in some strange bicycle-touring Spooks crossover. I was right, a woman had lost her phone & I tried to describe where I was not really having much idea. I wanted to hand it in at a nearby business and carry on my way as the light was fading fast, but she insisted I wait ten minutes. Eventually, a rather old Ford Galaxy rolled up and I was almost forced to take a tenner from a large roll of cash as payment for my waiting around doing nothing. All rather weird, but it paid for my lunch.

Startling pheasants of the game variety was becoming more normal as I continued; I must note that the pheasants in Berkshire and Oxfordshire are much more handsome – darker colouring. And just rolling down the hill to cross the Thames, again, on a quiet country lane I came across the largest bouquet (who knew?) of pheasants I’ve seen.

The goal for the next day was Bristol & it promised to be one of my longest on a bike.  But as I planned to do most of it alongside the Kennet & Avon Canal, it wasn’t to be too hilly.  Rich kindly plotted a route for me to follow on my GPS that would take me most-directly to the canal on quiet roads.  With rain overnight, the tow-path was decidedly wet – and the rain that continued to fall didn’t help all that much.  Unfortunately, the National Cycle Route I was following left the canal for quite a while and seemed to insist on gradually climbing into a stiff sou-wester – not some of my favourite moments on a bike.

In time I reached Devises and what turned to out to be the end of the climbing. Deciding I was much too muddy & wet for the cafe recommended by a passing cycle tourist, so I quickly snacked before rolling quickly down beside the Caen Hill Locks.  With sixteen locks all in a row here, they do form a rather impressive staircase – navigating in a boat must be tedious, five to six hours apparently.

Caen.hill.locks.in.devizes.arp.jpg

The rest of the way into Bath was pretty flat, but with about twenty miles to go on top of what I’d already done wasn’t particularly fast. As the night closed in I decided I didn’t have the light or energy to ride for another couple of hours – so I took the train to north Bristol to arrive at Laura & Luis’s. I was quite pleased with about 145 km/90 miles for the day and over eight hours moving time. While I had remembered that L&L’s first house is undergoing extensive work, I’d forgotten there was no shower – one was much needed after all the mud & work into the wind. Never mind, nothing a walk in the rain around the corner to the gym couldn’t fix.

A most enjoyable weekend catching up, watching the All Blacks narrowly beat England, checking out a local fireworks night, ripping the kitchen ceiling off and popping down to the centre of Bristol to learn a bit of the city and walk in the sun. I’m still of the mind, if I was to come back to England for any length of time, this is an area I’d try to live.

Builders turning up early Monday morning meant an early start to my departure from Bristol for Winscombe. But this did mean that I got to see the day dawning on Bristol as I rode across the Clifton Suspension Bridge.

Carrying on through Ashton Court I enjoyed trying to spot bits of the course I rode & rode for six hours last year in the Bristol Bike Fest – six hours of riding the same short lap is rather boring. It was a pleasant dry morning for a ride across Somerset Moors and through cider country; I was pleased to do the half of the Strawberry Line that Mum & I didn’t ride in April (that is, the Yatton – Winscombe half).

While Andy & Jo were still at work I managed to occupy myself getting stuck into War & Peace, wandering around the village, cleaning the mud off my bike (an exercise in futility considering the subsequent ride to Taunton), sitting out a truly miserable Tuesday of rain and generally relaxing. Somehow I found myself recounting my travels since April (my previous visit) in greater detail than anyone else has been subjected too – for once I became a very slow eater.

Across more of the moors on the Wednesday I once again escaped the rain before reaching Taunton – which must be one of my most visited places over the last five years, considering how much John & Anna have had me to stay under the guise of popping over from Hampshire for many great rides in the south-west with the Combe Raiders. Unfortunately, Thursday was rather wet so John & I couldn’t get out for a long ride while Anna was at work and Lydia & Esther were at school – a much needed bike maintenance session wasn’t all that successful for my creaking pedal.

The Final Pheasant ride for the Saturday Combe Raiders outing was back on Exmoor – where I first rode over six years ago with John, Andy & Rich. It was great to have all of them back for my farewell ride and with a few others we had a good group of eight to head out on a day that promised all sorts of weather. A very enjoyable and memorable ride that had some decent climbs, stunning views over the Bristol Channel, some rain, the standard navigational debate, a short very muddy hike-a-bike section (that turned out not to be on the route) and much fun on some long rocky descents. Near the end the cloud really rolled in and above Dunster the woods were so misty one could hardly see twenty metres in front – it was all rather eerie. With one last pastie stop in Dunster my Combe Raiders riding career was over; I’ll miss it all the more as I don’t even get to defend my Christmas Hill Climb title this year.

Map discussions – my stopping to take photos was rather woeful throughout this whole trip.

Before long I’d said all my goodbyes to many friends & family in the south & south-west and I was on the train back to Paddington and then riding across London (which I really enjoy, I suspect I’m in the minority) – home for a couple of days’ breather. Thanks to all who took the time to see me & especially those that had me to stay – it sure beat wild-camping in winter! For the record – it was quite a leisurely tour: nearly 800 km/500 miles in two and a half weeks, only two big days over 120 km, the rest nicely between 30 and 70 km.

Nakuru camping trip with a lion and ten pre-schoolers

I’m not sure what was scarier – the lion was definitely quieter and better behaved overall.

I had originally planned that my three week visit to Tanzania would not involve a lot of traveling around. That didn’t last long as I soon got wind of a plan to travel up to Kenya for a week – partly for visa reasons, but mostly to go camping with various friends to mark Tesni’s birthday over a long weekend.

Sean (Tesni’s husband) had booked a private campsite in Nakuru National Park for us all for the weekend. I visited this park with AD five years ago on my first trip to Kenya – I was looking forward to seeing how it appeared now that the drought had been broken and the lake was no longer empty. Highlights from last time were all the rhino sightings and a herd of buffalo wandering through our campsite.

The advance party of two families arrived Friday, having driven through a lot of rain. I decided to travel over on Saturday with Bobby & Brandy – mostly because the park and camping fees are exorbitant if one is not an East African resident, but also I don’t think I would have fitted in the Prado with all the camping gear the Maarschalks had. It was great to catch up with B&B on the drive over – I rode with Bobby for my RVO mountain-bike adventure last year. By the Saturday evening everyone had arrived – we totaled twelve adults and ten children under the age of five. No-one told me I was signing up for that last part!

Before we had left home on Saturday morning, word had leaked out that a lioness had made an appearance on the edge of the campsite around breakfast time and then proceeded to take up residence in a large tree about thirty metres from the tents! She had quite a limp on her, so I assume had left her pride after a fight with another animal. Apart from the Saturday night (we saw her leave that evening & return the next morning), she spent most of the weekend that close to our camp. Needless to say, this put us rather on edge – especially with so many young children around.

But it all worked out well, and probably helped in keeping the children roaming too far when there was who-knows-what-else in the long grass surrounding the camping. Obviously hungry lions are quite useful for keeping children in check. Contrary to what I thought before the weekend, the game drives weren’t the highlight of the weekend – we saw many flamingoes, giraffes, buffalo, antelope, baboons, zebra and some big rhinos, but they couldn’t compare to just staying in camp and watching and listening to the wildlife nearby.

As well as our lion resident, we had a lot of zebra, buffalo and baboons pass through at various times. But the unexpected sighting was the huge hippopotamus that wandered through Sunday night. I didn’t even know there were hippos in the park (they don’t like the lake as it is quite alkaline) and there was no water close to our campsite; I was pleased by the hippo sighting as the only one I’d previously seen in the wild was in the Masaai Mara five years ago – & it was just sitting in a pond barely visible.

Generally the days camping were passed eating an awful lot of good camp food (bananas stuffed with chocolate, wrapped in tin foil and baked on the side of the campfire may be better than even toasted marshmallows), keeping the children amused, game drives trying to find elusive leopards & other lions and spending time with good friends.

Once the children had gone to bed around nightfall things were quiet and dark enough to hear more lions roaring not that far away, hyenas barking and jackals making some sort of racket. Realising that there were so many children around, I had intended to put my tent well away from all the others so that I might actually get some sleep. But in light of the lion situation, that didn’t seem so prudent – so I put my tent so it was loosely surrounded by (sometimes) sleeping families. While I didn’t think I would get much sleep, this had the advantage of being less likely to be eaten. As it happened, I slept very well – especially considering the morning reports of very unsettled children making a lot of noise at regular intervals.

In all, a very different safari to what I’ve become used to – but it was still fantastic. Enough writing, pictures:

Crested eagle.

There’s a lion in that tree centre-rear of photo.

For those that thought climbing a tree would be a viable way to escape a lion, think again – even injured she made it up OK.

Lion-watching while an awful lot of mushrooms cook.

Braai time!

Still keeping an eye on our lion friend.

That’s me escaping to the Prado with Chloe as the lioness makes her way to her favourite tree.

Cycling around Mount Kilimanjaro

An important factor in rather suddenly deciding to come to Tanzania for three weeks was the opportunity to do a four day bicycle tour around Mount Kilimanjaro. I’ve discussed the possibility of climbing Kilimanjaro (at 5895 m the highest mountain in Africa & the highest free-standing mountain in the world) with numerous people over the last year, but each time the six days needed (at least, to allow for altitude acclimatisation) and the expense have counted against it as I’d rather spend the time and money I do have riding bikes. I’ve since been told the trek is more beautiful than imagined, so perhaps one day…

To save the ten-hour uncomfortable bus ride from Nairobi to Arusha, I flew into Kilimanjaro International after a change of planes in Ethiopia. It was a cloudy morning, so we couldn’t see much in the distance on approach – this made it all rather strange as a large 767 was put down seemingly in the middle of nowhere (the airport isn’t exactly near a town, in between two distant towns, Arusha & Moshi). An advantage I’ve found with flying with African airlines (EgyptAir & Ethiopian at least) is that they still have the large baggage allowance of two bags that North American airlines used to have – so my bike travels free and I still get to put another small bag in the hold, it makes packing and transferring so much easier.

Over a evening dining and watching rugby with friends I tried my best to stay awake after the overnight flight and little sleep. Somehow, my bike got assembled rather quickly the following morning as four of us went out for a short local ride – great fun finding trails that local villagers must have been walking over for generations. Parts of the landscape reminded me of the Badlands in both Alberta and South Dakota.

Due to other commitments, we missed the first day of the EduTours Africa four-day biking tour around Kilimanjaro. I didn’t mind too much as it was a short day of riding (only 27 km and a net ascent of just over a hundred metres) and I figured after the riding in August, I was probably still fit enough to cope with the rest of the tour. However, this did mean we had to get up at 4.30 the following morning to drive two and a half hours to the first night’s camp. By the time we arrived at Lake Chala, which is bisected by the Kenyan border, everyone else had eaten breakfast. Adrian and I had a quick look at the picturesque lake (in a crater) before eating, although I suspect the overcast skies detracted a little from the view – but it’s a beautiful place to stay all the same.

Before long, we were all on our bikes and heading up the camp driveway back to the road that would take us anti-clockwise around the mountain – that was covered in cloud. The others, Grant and Catherine – a wonderful couple from western Canada, had ridden down this hill the day before so knew to expect a 200 m climb back up over 7 km. The dirt road surface was good and riding in the countryside of a different country is always interesting – it was very rural with plenty of crops recently planted and many small banana plantations.

Once that initial climb was over, the rest of the first thirty kilometres was spent at about the same altitude – so it wasn’t too taxing as the day warmed up. There were plenty of locals out on the road and adjoining paths (which were so tempting to go & explore) on foot, motorbikes and ancient bikes carrying all sorts of loads. At one snack stop Gab (one of the two guides on the trip but on Landcruiser duty for the day) had a go on such a bike. With no pedals, minimal brakes and the load, he found it rather difficult!

Bike posing with our support vehicle – both remarkably capable over such terrain.

At this junction, the route turned up the hill for a 250 m climb up to lunch – thankfully the road became less corrugated than it had been for a few kilometres.

Past more banana trees.

We found ourselves in a small town, Mashati, on a busier sealed road and lunch was served. As I got used to over the few days – the food was great and plentiful for cycling – how Francis, the cook, managed to do so with such a basic travelling kitchen I’m still unsure. As well as plenty of meat, fresh fruit and veges there were ample carbs – on this day in the form of pasta & potato salad. While we ate, a heavy shower passed through the area; we waited it out and set out on the busier-than-a-dirt-road for the afternoon.

Before long the rain had returned and set in for at least a couple of hours; seldom heavy, it was persistent and we were all pretty wet – some more so than others. With more traffic there was a lot more to look at in this respect, especially as the landscape turned to forest from fields, and despite the rain all the locals were still out. Strange people riding strange bikes always seemed to be a source of amusement, especially for the children, and we exchanged many greetings and the few Swahili words we knew and many more phrases in English that the locals had learnt from somewhere and delighted in using somewhat out of context.

Still smiling.

As we got closer to the mountain, the road naturally kicked up a fair bit. Grant and Catherine were both in their early sixties and, while not regular cyclists, have found that they love to include a supported cycle tour on their travels to see different parts of the world. So while the 68 km and 1600 m of the day on roads was easy for me, especially with an unloaded bike, the afternoon’s pace was very slow & steady. But I was impressed with their fortitude and the turning down of the option of loading the bikes on the trailer and driving when we entered Rongai Forest as dusk approached & it was still raining. Eventually we arrived at our camp for the night, Snow Cap, under Kili just as it got completely dark – I’d left my lights at the house, thinking there was no way we’d have such long days.

After a pleasantly warm night camping, we awoke to find clear skies and finally I could see that Kili was actually real.

With a bit of oil on chains, we were soon off again.

The day’s riding started off fantastically as I found some nice singletrack through a forest next to the steep gravel road we’d climbed to finish the previous day. We were soon back on the sealed road, but nicely there was still little traffic on it – the traffic really dropped off when we’d passed near a border town the day before. It was only 24 km of seal, with a couple of hundred metres of climbing to start off with as we got near 2100 m and approached the Kenyan border before riding parallel right next to it for some time. It was a non-existent border on the ground – the only way I knew it was there was from looking at the map on my GPS.

At first, the plantation forest had been clear-felled and the locals had already cultivating the land with vegetable plots. The pine forest returned before we came across a lot of indigenous forest – in which we saw some Colubus monkeys and baboons.

A Colubus monkey, coloured rather like a skunk.

Back in the pines, AD spotted a augur buzzard.

As we descended rapidly, paths through the forest attracted attention and it was easy enough to go exploring some singletrack alongside the road before returning to the route. It was nice to break the sealed road up a bit and burn extra energy by taking these slight detours. Through another small town, we were back on a dirt road for the rest of the day – & this is where the day got really enjoyable. As well as a more bumpy surface, which at times near washes deteriorated noticeably and made for fun riding downhill, the villages became smaller and we were amongst a Maasai tribe – whose brightly colored shuka (the blankets they wear) are always attractive. Being more rural & less busy, the people seemed even friendlier as we passed people going about their days and children at school. Unusually for the Maasai, owing to a disastrous drought some years previous, this particular tribe has learnt to grow some crops.

It’s a reasonably flat football pitch, I suppose.

As the gradient turned to a more undulating one and the forests were gone, the views out over to Kenya really opened up. We spent most of the time gazing over Amboseli National Park; known for its elephant population, some of them have been forced to come up towards Kili looking for food due to recent droughts – a huge pile of elephant dung was spotted on the side of the road.

With fun little downhills, some off-road excursions for me, and manageable climbs we continued on in a mix of cloud and sun – with a slight breeze, it was perfect cycling weather.

Returning to the road after finding rocky trails and a herd of goats.

Frequently I waited, occasionally I posed for photos.

We went back into the forest again for a while.

A few tractors started to appear to help plough the fields.

As we started to get a bit peckish, the Landcruiser passed us and went and set up lunch on the side of the road. Another good spread for hungry cyclists looking out over the road to Amboseli stretching before us.

Continuing on we rounded the base of a hill I was glad that we didn’t have to climb, and seemed to leave the Maasai lands behind. With a brief stop around the time we passed land that was being farmed commercially, we looked back to see a big black cloud starting to dump rain over a small area behind us.

Said cloud started to move towards us and I felt the first few drops. The road stretched before us and just freewheeling I quickly found myself in front of the others.

Faced with the very real prospect of the heavens opening on me and me being many minutes in front of the truck and my rainjacket, I decided I had a fair chance of beating the weather to the campsite if I rode fast enough and didn’t stop. Maybe I wasn’t that concerned, as I spent a lot of time riding next to the road on long sections of singletrack. Passing through a very large herd of goats crossing the road, I was back on the road for the rest of my riding day. As the black cloud and large drops continued to menace me, Simba Farm Campsite popped up on the screen of my GPS & I was saved – which was just as well as there was no sign on the side of the road. I rolled down the more-used dirt driveway to a house and established with next to no Swahili that I was in the right place; just as I put my bike under a lean-to, the rain began tipping down and I ran to the house mostly dry.

It is the short rainy season at the moment, but unusually early, so the rain was only supposed to last ten to fifteen minutes. But it stretched on rather lengthily for close to three-quarters of an hour, before finally stopping – at which time the rest of the group that I’d abandoned turned up absolutely soaked and covered in claggy mud from the driveway. As the day was about sixteen kilometres shorter than we’d been told, we arrived with plenty of daylight left so after the others cleaned up we had time to wander to a brilliant sundowner spot.

Simba Farm is vast – about 7500 acres/3000 hectares, and in an absolutely spectacular setting. They run sheep and beef, and grow wheat, barley (for the local Kilimanjaro lager), beans and vegetables for supply to lodges and shops in Arusha.

The western end of Kili hiding as the sun set.

Mt Meru from the opposite side to which I’m used to seeing it.

Ambling back down the hill after the sun had gone, we found that our drinks order of Kilimanjaros and bottles of wine had been delivered (the main lodge is five miles down the road). Sipping more well-earned drinks the sky cleared as we spotted various constellations and the Milky Way and a stunning full moon rose over Kili. I thought I ate a lot of another grand dinner, but I woke at three on a warm night absolutely famished. This was surprising as the day’s riding wasn’t particularly onerous – sixty-eight kilometres again, but with only about half the climbing (about 850 m), a net descent (about 250 m) and a third on sealed road. But maybe I should just eat even more, it all seems to disappear somewhere – mad as it seems.

When I was awake in the middle of the night, it had clouded over – but on getting up just after six, it was clear again so we walked back up the hill to see the sun rise over Kili.

Shira, the lowest of the Kili’s three peaks – at 3962 m it’s a lot lower than the highest summit.

The sun starting to hit Meru.

The sunlight making its way onto the stunning jacaranda trees, as we wait for breakfast.

With only about fifty kilometres to ride on the fourth and final day of the trip, it was about nine before we set off – thankfully, the driveway had dried up overnight.

The first twenty kilometres of the day was excellent – trending downhill on fast dirt roads, that were nicely rutted in places to make things fun. All day the stunning views of Meru continued over to our right. The first major village/small town we hit was an interesting sight with it bustling with life and all the shops and services so different to what the Canadians were used to. The welding on the street side, primitive tyre shop, butcher and so forth were things we’d seen before – but not all together in such close proximity with so much life buzzing around.

For ten kilometres, the surface became rather corrugated – & at the slow, steady pace of our group it became a little tedious. But large wheels sure help, as did occasional off-piste excursions to find smoother surfaces. For morning (rather, noon) snack stop we finally got a group photo – although Kili is hiding again.

To finish the four-day ride, it was sealed road losing a fair bit of altitude passing through more villages. For kilometres either side of large villages there was an excellent path beside the road that I delighted in bombing down, weaving back on to the road whenever there was a small bridge to go over, hopping off things and just generally stretching my legs more than I had the previous hours.

We passed through the village that Gab grew up in & rather fortuitously met his father crossing the road (there were a lot of people milling about, so it was quite the coincidence); it was market day, so people had come from the hills all around to sell various produce and firewood.

Millet drying in the sun – a not uncommon sight on our last section of the ride.

With not nearly as much traffic on the sealed road as what we’d been warned about, it was a nice ride down to our finish point the road we were on joined the busy road back to Arusha. With bottles of Kilimanjaro and other favourite local lagers, we celebrated the four-day trip around Kili that Grant & Catherine completed (I’m still so impressed, I sure hope that I’m still riding mountain bikes around the world when I’m in my sixties) – in total it was about 215 kilometres with close to 3000 metres of climbing. AD & I did a little less than that after having missed the short first day.

With lunch over, the bikes were loaded on the trailer and we headed back to Arusha – what a great ride with so many different sights of this wonderful country. I still maintain that bikes are one of the best ways to explore new places – you see so much and can still interact with the people and landscape so much more than in a car. Thanks AD for inviting me along, and special mention to Carm who stayed at home with the kids while we were off having fun and adventuring.

Les Granges – through another’s eyes

Sort of a guest post today – well, I’m still writing but all the photos are Zuza’s. Previous posts during my stay here at Les Granges have centred on activities away from the vineyard and winery – mostly because I don’t tend to carry my camera when I work and therefore don’t have many photos to write to. But Zuza likes to carry a camera around often and has somewhat become official photographer for the few of us that have been working together for the last two or so weeks. It’s also interesting to see things that I see every day through another’s lens – plus she’s a much better photographer than I am. So, with minimal words hopefully, here are some of the scenes of my stay here.

Nightly serenade.

Every so often the aged family dog makes an appearance struggling on tired arthritic eighteen-year old limbs.

A little slice of home.

New house (still in progress) and winery on left.

Netting up to thwart the hungry birds just before these grapes are due for harvest.

Cleaning vats in the winery.

Pressing grapes by foot.

Edo and the small vessel used to ferment a little – this is then added to the larger batches of wine to kick-start them.

Pizza night.

And some from our hike to Col de Malatra, near Monte Bianco, last week:

Tasty, tasty ham.

Biking to go places, going places to bike.