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| MaunWindhoek |
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Maun, Botswana to Windhoek, Namibia
Maun, Botswana to Windhoek, Namibia – 836 kms in 5 days, with legs of 168, 140, 207, 162 and 159 kms.
Foreheads dripping, tongues slaked, this week we rode the Kalahari. Not as you might imagine in the sweltering heat. Unexpectedly, we rode in the rain. At some point in all of our 9 days in normally very arid Botswana we had moments of rain. For the last 5 days right up to the Namibian border we encountered torrential rains amidst lightning and thunder. These weren’t your typical short-lived African thunder bursts. Some of the storms lasted for 6 to 8 hours at a time. For three nights as we attempted to sleep in our flimsy tents, we were entertained by very close bolts of lightning followed by thunderous rolling claps of sound, each round of thunder releasing more drenching rain. By timing the interval between light and sound, I could tell if the storms were advancing or retreating. Awaking in the morning, we found that one camper, having failed to find high ground for his tent, was flooded. He abandoned his tent for a bench in the support truck. Rivulets ran hither and yon.
On my 71st birthday I rode 207 kms. Not only was this the longest single day’s ride for the Tour since leaving Cairo, but it was also a personal best for me – the longest one day ride I have ever done in my life!
I usually ride alone, but on this auspicious day, Cat elected to chaperone me on my journey. She is a fabulous person - a litigation lawyer from New York. As we rode we solved many of the world’s problems. It took us over 50 kms to review the history of South Africa from Chaka to Zuma, with key references to Churchill, Rhodes, Smuts and Mandela. We discussed the legal and political implications of the recent financial meltdown where Cat was involved in a very significant way, and we began the redesign of health care for 2020.
On this 207 km day we rode the first 80 and the last 20 in the rain. In between we saw storm cells to each side as they swirled about. As a cell passed, we faced the advancing head wind from the clockwise vortex only to be swept on the other side by the storm’s tail wind. This day ended at the Namibian border. For the last two kilometres the large rain droplets turned to quarter inch balls of ice.
Hail – in Botswana – it was hard to believe!
I’ve learned something about physical fitness that I never knew before. It’s probably ‘old hat’ to many of my athletic friends, but it was a new discovery for me. Advance training for this Tour in the Canadian winter allowed 5 or 6 days a week in the gym with various weight and spinning options. Then, on joining the Tour in full flight, I found myself riding 6 to 10 hour days. After 13 riding days from Lilongwe to Maun, my legs were painful and stiff.
Then, to my surprise, on this leg to Windhoek, I seemed to rediscover my rugby legs of yesteryear. I have some stiffness after a long ride, but no longer are my muscles painful.
The discovery is that one has to do a very considerable amount of forced exercise before breaking through to a new level of fitness – not one’s everyday experience of a few days in the gym or a few short bike rides.
Eastern Zambia was surprisingly hilly. Botswana, as advertised, was flat. There were hills as we approached Windhoek.
As one rider said, “the hills make you strong because of the work of climbing. But, it is the flat that makes you fit. All you do is pedal endlessly all day long.”
I’ve come to know most of the riders quite well now – too many to name them all. I’ll post a photo series later. They are a fun and fascinating group.
Guess who took the Okavango delta air flight with me? – Jessica and Lianne.
Guess the elevation of Windhoek? – 800 metres above Maun – it was a steady and relentless climb, with headwinds and rain.
Guess the universal language that unifies all races in Namibia? – Afrikaans.
I have a confession to make. I had hoped to write more about all of the thoughts and ideas that go through my head each day as I ride along, but come the end of the day, all I can do is pitch my tent, eat supper and hit the sack at 7 pm (1900 hours, as they say in Zambia)!
Breakfast is at 6 am and we’re on the road by 6.30.
It’s rather redeeming to have one’s life reduced to a tent and a bicycle!
Foreheads dripping, tongues slaked, this week we rode the Kalahari. Not as you might imagine in the sweltering heat. Unexpectedly, we rode in the rain. At some point in all of our 9 days in normally very arid Botswana we had moments of rain. For the last 5 days right up to the Namibian border we encountered torrential rains amidst lightning and thunder. These weren’t your typical short-lived African thunder bursts. Some of the storms lasted for 6 to 8 hours at a time. For three nights as we attempted to sleep in our flimsy tents, we were entertained by very close bolts of lightning followed by thunderous rolling claps of sound, each round of thunder releasing more drenching rain. By timing the interval between light and sound, I could tell if the storms were advancing or retreating. Awaking in the morning, we found that one camper, having failed to find high ground for his tent, was flooded. He abandoned his tent for a bench in the support truck. Rivulets ran hither and yon.
On my 71st birthday I rode 207 kms. Not only was this the longest single day’s ride for the Tour since leaving Cairo, but it was also a personal best for me – the longest one day ride I have ever done in my life!
I usually ride alone, but on this auspicious day, Cat elected to chaperone me on my journey. She is a fabulous person - a litigation lawyer from New York. As we rode we solved many of the world’s problems. It took us over 50 kms to review the history of South Africa from Chaka to Zuma, with key references to Churchill, Rhodes, Smuts and Mandela. We discussed the legal and political implications of the recent financial meltdown where Cat was involved in a very significant way, and we began the redesign of health care for 2020.
On this 207 km day we rode the first 80 and the last 20 in the rain. In between we saw storm cells to each side as they swirled about. As a cell passed, we faced the advancing head wind from the clockwise vortex only to be swept on the other side by the storm’s tail wind. This day ended at the Namibian border. For the last two kilometres the large rain droplets turned to quarter inch balls of ice.
Hail – in Botswana – it was hard to believe!
I’ve learned something about physical fitness that I never knew before. It’s probably ‘old hat’ to many of my athletic friends, but it was a new discovery for me. Advance training for this Tour in the Canadian winter allowed 5 or 6 days a week in the gym with various weight and spinning options. Then, on joining the Tour in full flight, I found myself riding 6 to 10 hour days. After 13 riding days from Lilongwe to Maun, my legs were painful and stiff.
Then, to my surprise, on this leg to Windhoek, I seemed to rediscover my rugby legs of yesteryear. I have some stiffness after a long ride, but no longer are my muscles painful.
The discovery is that one has to do a very considerable amount of forced exercise before breaking through to a new level of fitness – not one’s everyday experience of a few days in the gym or a few short bike rides.
Eastern Zambia was surprisingly hilly. Botswana, as advertised, was flat. There were hills as we approached Windhoek.
As one rider said, “the hills make you strong because of the work of climbing. But, it is the flat that makes you fit. All you do is pedal endlessly all day long.”
I’ve come to know most of the riders quite well now – too many to name them all. I’ll post a photo series later. They are a fun and fascinating group.
Guess who took the Okavango delta air flight with me? – Jessica and Lianne.
Guess the elevation of Windhoek? – 800 metres above Maun – it was a steady and relentless climb, with headwinds and rain.
Guess the universal language that unifies all races in Namibia? – Afrikaans.
I have a confession to make. I had hoped to write more about all of the thoughts and ideas that go through my head each day as I ride along, but come the end of the day, all I can do is pitch my tent, eat supper and hit the sack at 7 pm (1900 hours, as they say in Zambia)!
Breakfast is at 6 am and we’re on the road by 6.30.
It’s rather redeeming to have one’s life reduced to a tent and a bicycle!
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