Low2High: Africa

Finally, some real footage!

2012-03-05T23:24:00.000-08:00

I know I've been talking about it for months, but I swear a documentary film about Low2High: Africa is in the works. The footage is a mess, as I am not a filmmaker, so I've given quite the challenge to friends in the industry. "Here's a bunch of random footage with bad audio. Make a movie!"

In the meantime, I've put together a short-and-sweet video of footage from Low2High: Africa. Here's the youtube link.... Low2High: Africa short film

I don't know what the song is, but I really like it. It was on a bootleg CD that I bought in Ethiopia for 10 Birr! Spread word about the video. I'm trying to get sponsorship for another expedition and a large number of views on youtube will help a lot.

Kyle

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rSl96J6Kv4o&feature=youtu.be

Message from Winston Fiore, trekking 5,000 through SE Asia for Operation Smile

2012-01-29T18:43:00.001-08:00

Hi everyone,

As many of you know, I've embarked on a 5,000-mile walk through Southeast Asia to raise $50,000 for the International Children's Surgical Foundation, a charity that provides free cleft palate surgeries in developing countries.
My trek started in Singapore early October, and I have made it as far as Laos.
I invite you to visit the website, smiletrek.org, as well as subscribe to the blog by signing up for notifications on the left or by indicating your interest in reply to this email.
One life-changing surgery only runs about $240, so even a $20 donation goes a long way for these kids. You can donate directly to ICSF via credit card or PayPal by clicking the "Donate" button on the left side of the homepage. Checks can be made out to "ICSF" and mailed to:
ICSF
PO Box 4594
Boise, Idaho 83711-4594
I know times are tough, so if you're unable to donate yourself, perhaps you know someone who might be able to. I give all my donors credit on the site's Sponsors page.
Thanks for taking the time, and take care!

Winston Fiore

New video!

2011-10-19T01:59:00.000-07:00

New video from Low2High: Africa - feeding the hyenas in Harar, Ethiopia

Youtube - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SS1GbeUCqAE

Adventure World Magazine

2011-08-21T11:34:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, Adventure World Magazine asked me to write an article about my time biking through the Horn of Africa. I felt like the general story of my trip from beginning to end had already been told between my blog and facebook page, so I offered to write a detailed account of the week I spent in Northern Kenya, on the Moyale Road. They agreed, and this week they published my article with more photos.

This week was the hardest of the entire 68-day expedition. Mud, flash floods, bandits and dehydration were all very real threats at this stage.

Check out the article, as well as some other great stories from adventures in Mongolia, Mexico and Utah. The magazine is free and downloadable as a pdf.

Adventure World Magazine - Volume 15

Guest blog post for World Biking

2011-08-15T17:47:00.000-07:00

Amaya Williams is heading the A-Z Project, documenting the highlights of cycling every country on earth! My well-traveled and well-versed friend Graydon posted a wonderful review of his multiple trips to China, and I offered my words for Djibouti. It was a great exercise in personal reflection to focus on one small part of the larger expedition. Djibouti is often passed-over by Africa-bound tourists, so I consider myself lucky to spend a week there enjoying both the tourist attractions and the open road.

Top 5 reasons to cycle Djibouti

Graydon's Travel Blog

Amaya and Eric have been cycling together for almost a decade. They document all their travels on their website and are currently roughing it up in Alaska. It's a great site for research or fun.

World Biking

Drought in many areas crossed by Low2High route

2011-07-26T17:42:00.000-07:00

MSNBC has been running articles on television and their website about the drought and famine in Djibouti, Ethiopia, Kenya and Somalia. It has been a worsening problem that I witnessed both as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Ethiopia and while on the Low2High: Africa expedition.

One good article about the drought, the aftermath, and the reality of the aid and media industries can be found here.

To donate to one of many recognized organizations responding to this crisis, look at this list.

While on my bicycle, the drought was a challenge as I was consuming upwards of 8 liters of water per day in the driest areas. It was inconvenient to carry so much water, but it was short term. I can't imagine having to live in these conditions, especially trying to raise a family or livestock. This slow, quiet event has affected millions of Africans that now have no choice but to flee to refugee camps. If you can, please donate.

I've added some photos from Low2High showing the region's water and agricultural hardships.

Kyle

This 'river' marked on my map in eastern Ethiopia near the Somalia border was nothing more
than a sandpit covered with camel tracks when I crossed it in January, 2011.

The rocky terrain in northern Kenya makes it impossible for all but the hardiest plants
to grow. Rain or no rain, the region's soil is difficult to farm.

'Low2High: Africa' film! Coming soon...

2011-04-21T09:00:00.000-07:00

Trailer for upcoming Low2High: Africa film. No idea what the final product is going to be, but expect a YouTube release in the next few months. This footage was shot in Addis Ababa and Bahir Dar, Ethiopia, including the New Day Children's Centre, before Low2High kicked off. The biking footage was shot by Kyle and friends in Djibouti. The very last shot is Lake Assal, the lowest point in all of Africa, where his journey began back in January! Edited by Sher Vogel.

Wrapping up

2011-04-12T03:16:00.000-07:00

Guest blog post about the conclusion of Low2High: Africa for Mikael Strandberg at http://www.mikaelstrandberg.com/2011/04/08/kyle/

Mount Kilimanjaro

2011-03-29T09:36:00.000-07:00

Day 64 - Kilimanjaro Day 1: Marangu Gate to Mandara Huts
9km, 1970 meters to 2720 meters / 6,463 feet to 8,924 feet above sea level

My guide, Alex, came to pick me up from my hostel at 9am. He is a big, intimidating dude. I had made all the arrangements through a woman named Caroline back at the office in Arusha, so there was a bit of confusion. I told him I wanted to carry my own bag. Porters were hired to meet the minimum requirements of the park, but I still insisted on carrying all my supplies and water up the mountain. Alex was skeptical at first, but I told him that if I get tired I'll hand it off to one of the 2 porters. He agreed, and we hopped into a car heading up the hill to Marangu Gate.

Started hiking where I finished biking

Alex took care of the paperwork while I waited and rented a raincover for my pack. I went over to the sign I had cycled to the other day and took a photo. I wasn't sure if I was at the spot we'd start trekking from because the road continues behind the sign. I really didn't want to skip any segments. The road, it turns out, is for the ambulance and employees. The trailhead is to the left, and we started trekking up into the forest that wraps around the lower slopes of Kilimanjaro. I was happy to know I'd cycled far enough.

Hiking with my guide, Alex

The trek was slow and easy. We walked through thick forest with clouds in the canopy. We arrived at Mandara Huts before any other groups. I checked into my hut - no tents on this route. I know, what a pansy. Alex and I then went for a short acclimatization hike to Maundi Crater which is now overgrown with vegetation. Back at camp, my dinner was waiting for me. Other hikers were trickling in. I ate a hardy meal and went to sleep.

Maundi Crater

Day 65 - Kilimanjaro Day 2: Mandara Huts to Horombo
12km, 2720 meters to 3720 meters / 8,924 feet to 12,205 feet

Today was a really foggy day. We hiked out of the forest and into low scrub brush. Clouds were blowing up the slopes and over the trail, engulfing us in white. I always love being in and above clouds on mountain treks. Some girls were coming down from the summit. We chatted for a minute, and I couldn't help but think that they were kind of cute. I then realized that I'm probably still wearing 'expedition goggles', and told Alex we should get moving.

Kibo Summit from Horombo Camp

We were the first group into camp again. The weather was much more clear at 3700 meters. We could see Mawenzi Peak behind the huts, and to the northwest, for the first time, I could see Kibo which supports Uhuru Peak, the highest peak in Africa. I was motivated again!

I spent the night chatting less with other climbers, and more with their guides. One guide used to guide for Kilimanjaro, then moved to Alaska to guide for Mt. McKinley for a few years. Now he was back with a large youth group from South Africa. Another guide was telling me about his tribe's marriage traditions, where the groom would have to kill a lion and present the head to the bride's father as a show of worthiness.

He went on to tell me stories of nights spent sleeping in caves. In the night, snakes would crawl into his sleeping bag for warmth. He'd wake up with a spitting cobra stretched end-to-end along his body. The cobra would know when he woke up, and calmly slither away. All I could think was 'M.A.N!'

Moshi town at night from Horombo Camp

I was intrigued by all these bushmen. What great stories. But I had to go to bed. Below the dining hut where we were talking, Moshi's evening lights were coming on below. I reviewed my notes before going to sleep and realized I had cycled 2,980 km total, and in the last 2 days had trekked 21 km, so I officially crossed the 3,000 km distance. I celebrated by eating a power bar and passing out.

Day 66 - Kilimanjaro Day 3: Acclimatization day at Horombo Camp

I had only taken one day off between my last day of cycling and my first day trekking up Kilimanjaro. To have a rest day in Horombo was not only nice, but I believe necessary. My legs were strained from carrying my 18kg pack up to Horombo. My insistence on being as self-sufficient as possible is sometimes borderline masochism. Either way, today was just a pleasant walk up to Zebra Rocks with no pack.

Zebra Rocks, near Horombo

The idea is to get up higher, and then return. Hiking up to Zebra Rocks got Alex and I up to 4000 meters. You go high and you breathe. Your body reacts to the high altitude by acclimatizing - making more red blood cells and more blood capillaries. Going high starts the process, and coming back lower again makes it easier for your body to do so. In my mind, we had just ascended 2000 meters in 2 days. We were going too fast, regardless. If the acclimatization benefits of the extra day were a bit moot, just having a rest and not hauling the pack was a welcome break for my legs and back.

Back to Horombo

I returned to Horombo and to my hut. While away, some Aussies had moved in. There were 4 bunks, so we had plenty of room. They told me stories of Koala Bears having chlamydia and Steve Irwin's daughter turning into an eccentric copy of her father. They were on their way down from the summit and had some trouble on the ascent. They had been vomiting on the way up, struggling to breathe, and developed bad coughs. They summited, but it seemed like it was a real struggle. This made me a bit nervous. I asked what they had done to train for the trek, and they said 'nothing'. This made me feel a little better since I was in better shape. If they can do it, I can do it!

The rest day brought new teams to Horombo. Most were only spending the night and continuing to Kibo Camp, skipping the acclimatization day. An extra day on the mountain costs roughly $300 USD, but I can't imagine moving that fast up to nearly 6000 meters. I was happy with the decision I'd made, even if it costs more.

Day 67 - Kilimanjaro Day 4: Horombo Camp to Kibo Camp
9km, 3720 meters to 4700 meters / 12,205 feet to 15,420 feet

Kibo is a stand-alone volcanic cone. The mountain has several cones that were all active at one point or another. Kibo is the highest, even though one side of the cone has collapsed. On our 4th day, we moved to Kibo Camp at the base of the cone.

Me and Alex bearing down on the summit

As we got closer, I got more excited. The cone was huge, and we were already above 4000 meters. It was covered in ice and snow, which was still hard to imagine from the relative warmth below. As we rolled into Kibo Camp, another 1000 meters above Horombo, the weather changed. It was cold, less humid, and then it began to snow. It got me psyched for what was about to come next.

Snowfall below the summit

I ate an early dinner went to sleep. The plan was to get up at midnight, eat some food, and start hiking. I couldn't fall asleep, a problem I'd been having for the entire trek. I wonder if it's part of being at high altitude. I slept only 30 minutes when the guides for all the other groups came in and woke us all up at 11pm, a full hour before I was supposed to awaken. I was annoyed, to say the least. I contemplated stabbing people, pushing their limp corpses down the frozen hill toward Mawenzi Peak. That extra hour wouldn't have just been a lovely extra hour of sleep, it would have TRIPLED the amount of sleep I had gotten.

Snowing on Kibo

Day 68 - Kilimanjaro Day 5: Kibo Camp to Uhuru Peak
8km, 4700 meters to 5895 meters / 15,420 feet to 19,340 feet

No stabbing.

I had planned ahead for bad weather. It's currently the rainy season in northern Tanzania, so weather on the summit can get bad. Ice, wind, and blinding snow can all cause problems for trekkers on Kibo this time of year. My guide and I went outside to find the world calm and relatively warm. We decided to go for the summit.

We started hiking at about 12:15 am, a bit later than everyone else, but we weren't worried. We soon caught up to, and then passed just about every group. We were walking over the snow and rocks in darkness, using our headlamps for light. At one point, I turned around as the half moon was rising over Mawenzi peak behind us. The other hikers were moving slowly, their headlamps giving away their locations from miles away. The large groups tended to move slower. Anytime someone needed to get into their pack, have a drink, or go to the bathroom, the whole group would have to stop. Alex and I were strong and fast. Soon there was a big gap between us and them.

Climbers walking up Kibo with the rising moon behind them

The trail was long switchbacks up the cone. I was going strong until about 5500 meters and I nearly collapsed. I felt weak. I bent over with my head between my legs, having trouble breathing. I started seeing spots and getting dizzy. I thought I was having high-altitude sickness. Alex checked on me, following the usual sequence. My lips were not turning blue, my pupils were not dilated, and my fingernails were still turning pink after a quick squeeze (capillary refill). It wasn't high-altitude sickness, it was just exhaustion. I had hit my wall and had no energy left.

I sat down, squirted an electrolyte gel into my mouth and chased it with some water. I forced myself go get up and push on.

The switchbacks up the cone go to Gilman's Point on the southeast edge of the volcano. My hands had been getting colder and colder, even though my body was overheating. I kept unzipping my layers to keep from sweating, but still my hands were going numb. By the time I reached Gilman's Point, I couldn't take it anymore. I sat down, ripped off my gloves and jammed my fingers into my armpits. As life came back into them, the pain was unbearable. I was rocking back and forth, moaning.

I don't know if my gloves were just crap, or if the months of cycling had left me with poor circulation in my arms, but my hands were hurting. Luckily there was one other hiker at Gilman's Point, a girl from Australia named Bernadette. She had overmittens that she wasn't using, so she let me put them on. They made all the difference as we headed toward Uhuru Peak.

The summit was on the other side of the volcanic cone, so we had to follow the ridge around the ash pit. This was easy compared to the switchbacks. The day's first sunlight was just breaking behind us, but I still couldn't see what I was looking for - the sign marking the summit.

Time seemed to stand still. We kept walking and walking, traversing small peaks that I swore must be the highest. We rounded one more corner and I saw it, the signpost marking Uhuru Peak! I walked up, exhausted, taking video. I swapped the video camera for my still camera, stood on the peak with Alex, and got a great summit photo.

The highest point in Africa!

I took another photo with my ridiculous bicycle seat cover that I had packed up. I figured it would be cool to bring some part of the bike up to the peak, and what better than that stand-out seat cover which only weighs a few ounces? I had also packed a small piece of salt that I took from the shores of Lac Assal, Djibouti where this whole trip started. I dropped it next to the sign, and it disappeared into the powder snow. Low2High: Africa was officially complete!

Bike seat cover on the summit

It took another 2 1/2 hours to get back to Kibo camp, where we rested for about an hour. From there we pushed on to Horombo for the night. The next morning, we left Horombo, passed Mandara and went out to the park entrance.

The whole trek took six days round trip. I had booked seven, so the tour company hooked me up with a posh hotel in Moshi including free dinner. We were all happy to be off the mountain.

I'm happy beyond words. The whole expedition threw a lot of curveballs at me, but I met great people along the way that helped me through the hard bits. I'm still processing and summarizing the whole experience, but it has certainly been better than I ever imagined. It's been great to meet people, and I have gained a lot of confidence to do other things in life. This has certainly been good for me.

I'll leave you with some photos from the descent.

Thank you all who have followed me on this journey. Double thanks to everyone who has donated money to the New Day Children's Centre in Bahir Dar, Ethiopia. The fundraiser is still open, and only 225 Pounds to go! If you still want to donate, you can do so by clicking here.

Kyle

View from the summit at dawn

On the descent

Above the clouds in Horombo Camp

Kilimanjaro from Moshi

Final Days of Cycling

2011-03-29T04:14:00.000-07:00

Days 59 and 60: Arusha, Tanzania

These days of rest in Arusha were great. I spent my time with my family contacts who took great care of me. Their house is on the campus of Mt. Meru University, a few km north of the town. Between the inconvenient ride into town and the daily rain, I rarely left the house. On Day 60, I did go into town to finalize a contract with a Kilimanjaro trekking company - 'Parks Adventure Ltd' in Arusha. The family here knows the receptionist there, so I got a good deal.

I booked a trek up the Marangu Route, also known as the Coca Cola Route, from the town of Marangu, ascending the southeast side of Mt. Kilimanjaro. The minimum time to trek this route is 5 days - 3 days up, summit on the morning of Day 4, descend halfway, then finish descending on day 5. I booked 7 days, taking an extra acclimatization day on the way up, and a day to play with in case there is bad weather on the summit.

1,000,000 Tanzania Shillings

The payment was made in cash, so I withdrew more than 2,000,000 Tanzania Shillings from the ATM and handed it over. The stack of money was ridiculously large. I felt like a drug dealer with this massive stack of bills.

Day 61: Arusha to Moshi, Tanzania

I woke up early to pack and get moving. The family made me stay and drink tea which made me a bit late, but it was still nice to have some Tanzanian chai before hitting the road. I stopped by the trekking office to pay my remaining balance in Arusha, getting soaked from rain on the way into town.

After paying, I hopped on the bike and continued through the downpour. I was already drenched, so why not just keep going? I thought.

The ride to Moshi was easy, despite the rain. The road surface was good quality, and the rain even slowed down the traffic to a reasonably safe speed. I hugged the shoulder, still a little uncomfortable with being on the left side of the road. It's 80km between the two towns, but there are many small towns, cafes, and fuel stations to stop and have a snack. The rain lessened for the second half of the ride, and I rolled into town at about 1:30 pm.

Moshi is significantly smaller than Arusha, and has a more relaxed feel as a result. I easily found a cheap hostel to stay for the night and set to the task of drying out my supplies. The afternoon was dry and I was able to pack my dry clothes and tent before dinner. I met up with an American in town whom I had found on couchsurfing. His name is David, and he has a seriously creepy mustache. He is 28 and admittedly states that the mustache isn't helping with the ladies, but he loves it anyway. As we walked, boys were telling him in Swahili to shave because he looks terrible.

We had some good Indian food and a long chat, but ended the evening early. I was disappointed that I hadn't seen Mt. Kilimanjaro yet, other than from 300km away on Mt. Kenya. The rainclouds had covered the mountain from view all day long. Maybe early in the morning I'd be able to catch a glimpse.

62: Moshi to Marangu Gate

I slept in and packed the rest of my supplies that were scattered around the cramped hostel room. there was a good cafe I wanted to go to before hitting the road. Tanzania and Kenya have this God-awful routine of serving Nescafe instant coffee, EVERYWHERE. It's disgusting. This cafe, the 'Kilimanjaro Coffee Lounge', properly brews and serves local Arabica coffee. I had to have a cup before leaving.

In the cafe I met an American guy who is a marketing consultant for many of the western-owned resorts in and around Moshi. He was curious about my bike and tattered clothing, so he invited me to his table. I told him about Low2High: Africa. He told me about how foolish most of the western business owners are here. I then dug deep into parts of my brain I haven't used since college and had a conversation about changing intellectual property laws with the accelerating consumption of internet media. Definitely not the conversation I was expecting to have that morning.

The weather looked promising, so I hit the road. The clouds were still hiding Kilimanjaro from me, disappointingly. It was only 25 km to a big junction where the road heads southeast to Dar Es Salaam. I went straight through the intersection, bound for the small town of Marangu. The 12km ride from the junction was a long, slow uphill. The road actually starts to climb the base of the mountain, which I still couldn't see.

Rain eventually poured down on me. I took shelter in a small cafe until it passed. I passed a sign marking the beginning of Kilimanjaro National Park and got excited. In town there's only one intersection. I had a hostel booked and had to ask for directions. I was immediately swarmed by 'guides' and 'organizers' and many variations of hustlers. Not today, I thought to myself. It's the last damn day on the bike, please just tell me where my hotel is. I got directions from a woman selling bananas and started up the hill to the right. A man from the crowd was following me. I yelled at him, and he just kept getting closer. I told him not to follow me, he said he wasn't and turned around. I'd ride another 10 seconds, turn around and he was right there again. I raised my can of pepper spray and told him to back off or he'll be hurting. That finally worked.

I checked into my hostel, grabbed a quick bite, but then got right back on the bike. I wanted to finish the ride all the way to the park entrance.

The paved road to Marangu Gate was only 5km, but extremely steep. It took me almost an hour to cycle up, fully loaded. People were surprised to see me on the road. I finally reached the gate and breathed a momentary breath of relief. I was swarmed again by locals and their claims. I was polite and told them I had a guide booked. When they started grabbing at my bike, that's when I started shoving people. A park guard came out and intervened before it got out of hand. I hate tourist towns almost as much as border towns.

The gate opened and they let me in with my bike. I peddled to the sign marking the trailhead for Marangu Route where I will start trekking from in 2 days. A park employee inquired about the bike. I told him I was traveling from the lowest point on the continent to the highest. To that, all he said was "That's strange."

The beginning of Marangu Route up Kilimanjaro

It was closing time for the park, so I had to go. I grabbed a quick photo with the bike at the sign and headed out. The steep downhill was on my side, and I made it back to Marangu town in about 10 minutes. I went straight to my hostel for a shower, food and rest. The ride was over!

I made a few phone calls to America. My parents seemed very relieved that I was off the bike.

Day 63: Marangu, Tanzania

With the riding behind me, it was time to get rid of the bike. I never planned to bring it back to the US. The bike is in good enough condition for every-day riding, but not for another tour through Africa.

The bike was given to me by a Peace Corps Volunteer from Tanzania who rode it up to Ethiopia 2 years ago. He stayed at my house in Bahir Dar and I told him of this idea to go from Lac Assal to Kilimanjaro. He had gotten the bike for free himself, so he passed it on to me. I figured it was only right that I also passed it on.

In Marangu, there is a Peace Corps Volunteer named Nathan. I got in touch with him and handed off the bike. He's not planning to cycle anywhere, but I know he can make good use of it. I trust he'll find a good home for it in Tanzania.

Nathan and his student receiving the bike and storing some of my things while I trek Kilimanjaro

Bicycle and all the relevant supplies gone, I focused on Kilimanjaro. I spent the day stretching, eating, drinking water, and getting myself ready mentally for the next task which would start tomorrow.

Greetings from the base of Mount Kilimanjaro!

2011-03-21T07:26:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody! 62 Days after leaving Lac Assal, Djibouti, I have finally cycled to the base of the highest mountain in Africa, Mount Kilimanjaro! Yesterday I rode from Moshi to Marangu town, and up the final 5km climb to the Marangu Gate entrance to Kilimanjaro National Park. I had a fun chat with the dumbfounded park staff and told them that I'll be back in 2 days to trek to Uhuru Peak. One guy could only reply with "That is strange."

So the cycling is complete. Just under 3,000 km of hard riding is over. I'm taking a rest day in Marangu, and tomorrow I start my seven-day trek up Marangu Route, aka the 'Coca Cola Route', to the summit. I'm at a painfully slow internet cafe, so photos will come after the trek. Wish me luck!

Don't forget, this is a fundraiser. With only 7 days until the end of my epic journey from the lowest point on the African continent to the highest, getting donations is more important that ever. Spread the word and help me bring in the last 600 pounds! Donate by visiting http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/low2highafrica

Kyle

70%

2011-03-17T12:56:00.000-07:00

Low2High: Africa is a fundraiser for the New Day Children's Centre in Bahir Dar, Ethiopia. So far, 70% of the target has been raised. Help bring in the other 30%. Tell your friends, family, coworkers, church members, mobsters, extortionists, Somali Pirates, ex-boyfriends with gambling addictions, 2nd grade teacher / exotic dancer, pathetic friend who is trying to earn bonus points with a girl who doesn't even like him, suspiciously unemployed but always loaded neighbor, village Gold Digger, Italian man who owns a waste management company, crooked accountant, personal injury lawyer, online poker player, sellout friend working for Chevron, or anyone else in your life who may have five bucks to burn to donate what they can by visiting this link.

Final Days in Kenya, First days in Tanzania

2011-03-17T06:33:00.000-07:00

Day 55: Kiambu to Kikuyu to Kisserian, Kenya

After a week spent in and around Nairobi, it was time to hit the road. Every time I take a long break, it seems so difficult to start moving again. At least Kilimanjaro is close, giving me a bit of a morale boost. Yesterday I was tuning up my bicycle and realized that my rear derailleur cable had snapped at the shifter. It needs to be replaced. I called a local bike mechanic, David Kinjah, and asked if it would be possible to replace it on a Sunday. He told me to come on over in the morning.

I left the house in Kiambu around 7am to make it to Kikuyu where David lives by 9. It’s only about 22km, but I was doing it with only my front 3 gears to play with. The ride was slow and exhausting. My legs burned as I pushed up the hills. I had locked the derailleur into one gear so the chain wouldn’t skip, but in hindsight I should have put it in a lower gear.

I didn’t know how to find David’s house, so I called him upon arrival in Kikuyu. He told me to find the kids on bikes and they’ll take me too him. I kind of laughed, thinking I’d never know which kids he was talking about. As I rounded a corner, I saw 20 boys and girls in helmets, proper riding clothes, and wearing ‘Safari Simbaz’ riding jerseys. ‘Oh, THOSE boys’ I thought to myself. They were expecting me, and took me right to David’s house.

The house is an average Kenyan home with a few rooms. However, David lives in one room with his wife and child, and the remaining 4 rooms are full of bicycles, parts, clothing, tools, and maps. This guy is stocked. He has a few wealthy clients in Nairobi, and he was assembling a brand new Cannondale bike with a Lefty Fork, which I had never seen before. He was assembling the hydraulic disc brakes and converting the tires to tubeless. Seeing all this made his skills and knowledge immediately apparent.

David Kinjah replacing my gear cable at his home near Nairobi

He took one look at my bike and went to work. While effortlessly replacing my cable, he told me about all the boys that were around. He grew up interested in cycling, which kept him away from the temptations of alcohol and partying, and introduced him to an active lifestyle. He credits cycling for a lot of the good things in his life. He’s trying to pass on his love to the boys. Being a self-taught mechanic, he takes a lot of time to teach the boys how bikes are assembled, how to maintain them properly, and also how to organize and take core of all the tools he has acquired over the years. He hopes that by teaching the boys a useful skill, they can transfer the lessons to everyday life. A few of the boys were little prodigies, never a step behind David as he dove into the project of repairing my bike with a surgeon’s precision.

After he finished the cable, I showed him a wobble in my rear axle. His only reaction was ‘Uh Oh!’ I thought I was just having trouble keeping the axel tightened. If I tightened it enough to remove the wobble, the cassette would pinch against the frame. It was confusing to me. David knew exactly what the problem was.

He said the bike was unsafe and couldn’t let me ride away on it. He then started ripping my rear wheel apart. He took out the axel, then the bearings from one side, and then showed me why ‘Uh Oh’ was an understatement. The other side of the hub had no bearings. It had shrapnel. The bearings were broken, pulverized into dust, and mixed with grease. He removed the debris and showed me the hub itself. It was no longer smooth and circular, it was splintered and jagged. Yes, ‘Uh Oh!’

Ruined rear wheel hub

The hub was ruined. I kept telling him that I only have 400km to go. I’m not pushing to Cape Town. He told me I won’t make it to Tanzania.

David sprang into action, rummaging through one of his many store rooms. He emerged with an old wheel. It was the same size, same number of spokes, and with some modification could support my cassette. I wanted to keep the cassette because it has a big climbing gear on it which has come in handy in many big hills.

David Kinjah putting my cassette onto a different wheel

While working on my wheel, David insisted that I have lunch and tea. I sat in his living room watching the Oprah Winfrey Show with his wife. Less than an hour later, the wheel was done. He mounted it on my bike. It was smooth and true. I couldn’t believe it. This guy is good.

I felt bad since I had tied up his entire Sunday morning. I was ready to pay him and ride off, but instead he rounded up the boys, put on his Green Goblin cycling clothes, and said ‘Let’s go for a ride’. He and the boys took me through the winding dirt roads of Kikuyu, all the way to the tarmac road out of town and toward Tanzania. This is a man who loves cycling. He’s a skilled mechanic and talented rider. I was impressed with him in every way. If you’re a cyclist traveling through Nairobi, you need to go to his website www.safarisimbaz.com and get ahold of him. Whether you need a repair, tips on good cycling routes, contact with other riders in the area, or just talk shop, he’s the man you want. Good hearted and talented.

David Kinjah, Kyle Henning, and the boys

Riding away from Nairobi with the boys from David's shop

After breaking away from the group, I was on my own again. I pushed through the towns of Ngong and Kisserian to a potholed junction road. David told me of a campsite, so I ignored my hunger and sleepiness and rode to the camp. There are no landmarks, but the camp is just off this road somewhere between Kisserian and Isinya. I found the camp, pulled in, and was able to pitch my tent for about $3 USD. There were some young Kenyans having a party, so I joined them for food and beer. It was a good end to a long day.

Campsite in southern Kenya

Day 56: Camp to Namanga (Tanzania border)

The previous day felt very long, so I slept in a bit. I slowly packed up my camp and peddled toward the road at 9am. As I reached the end of the drive and joined the tarmac, an American man was peddling by on a bicycle with only one small bag. I yelled ‘Hey!’, and he jokingly replied ‘You! Ferenji! Give money!’ I see he’s ridden through Ethiopia.

His name is Gabe. We immediately started riding together and chatting about our trips. His is quite different from mine. He is a staff member / bike mechanic / EMT for the Tour D’Afrique bicycle race and expedition from Cairo, Egypt to Cape Town, South Africa. Today it was his responsibility to ride in the back of the 80-person convoy in case anyone broke down and needed a mechanic. I was extremely happy to have someone to ride with. We caught up with a pair of riders, one of whom was having trouble with his front wheel. Gabe helped him sort it out, and the four of us were on our way. One rider was from Ethiopia, so we had a great chat about the country.

Tour D’Afrique is an amazing logistical feat. The tour supports 80 riders, some of whom are racing each day for a cumulative time. All their food is provided, and the staff ride ahead in one of 5 support vehicles to set up lunch and snacks along the road. They sleep in camps every night and live a very communal existence as they cycle 12,000 km to South Africa. The vehicles can carry sick or injured riders, spare parts, food, water, and all the supplies. I caught up to the lunch truck where a buffet of sandwich goodies was laid out in front of me. The simple selection looked like a feast to me. I chatted with some of the riders and ate like a king.

We pushed on, being at the end of the pack. They were going all the way to Namanga on the Tanzania border. I hadn’t planned to go that far today (about 120 km from where I camped), but figured it’s better to ride with company, so I pushed to the border.

The staff welcomed me, let me pitch my tent amongst the dozens already set up, and invited me to have dinner with them. I didn’t have a plate or any kind of eating utensils, so I ate dinner out of my frisbee with my bare hands. Improvise! The food was basic, but very good for riding. I ate until I hurt.

Tour D'Afrique camp in Namanga, Kenya

I stayed up late chatting with some interesting people. One guy is from Buffalo, NY. Represent! He grew up in Williamsville, so we had a little Northtowns / Southtowns rivalry. Then we bonded over the Sabres, the Pearl Street Grille, and Campus Wheel Works so all was fine. There was a girl who had ridden across the US three times with an organization partnered with Habitat for Humanity called ‘Bike-and-Build’. She even knew a friend of mine from AmeriCorps who had also done a summer with them. A third American was telling me stories about climbing a 7,000+ meter peak in India and motorcycling across Tibet. I couldn’t walk away from these conversations. They were all so fascinating. I love stories from the road.

Bikes everywhere

At about 1030 pm, we were all exhausted but had to go to sleep. The next day was a 115km ride across the border to Tanzania and to the city of Arusha. I planned to ride the whole way with them.

Tour D’Afrique seems incredible to me. The fact that they can move so many people across a continent where logistics are an inherent nightmare is amazing. Some of the riders were a bit in awe of me traveling unsupported and solo, but to counter that, they were keeping a very fast and hard riding schedule. I’m impressed that they’re going 12,000 km. I’m only going 3,000. Also, they do it in 4 months, averaging 100km per day, including rest days. I’ve averaged less than 50km per day. Also, if they fall behind, the group keeps moving. Each rider has to meet the day’s goal or succumb to the embarrassment of riding to camp in one of the vehicles. There’s no wiggle room to get sick, take a personal day, or change the route. Every rider is locked in to the schedule set by Tour D’Afrique months before they ever leave. There are things to be admired about my expedition and theirs. To each his own. It was such a pleasant surprise to meet this group, and a great way to end my time in Kenya.

Tanzania, my fourth and final country!

Day 57: Namanga to Arusha

I woke up with the Tour D’Afrique crowd at about 530am. I wanted to catch the free breakfast at 6am. We peddled 3km to the border. My info might be a little outdated, but I had read that the Namanga border can be a hassle with officials asking for bribes, so I was happy to cross with almost 100 people. The officials were a bit stunned and just pushed us through as fast as possible. It was simple.

Karibu Tanzania!

Namanga had nothing on the Tanzania side as far as ATM machines or places to buy sim cards, so we all pushed on. Five minutes into the ride, I realized I had left my tent in the no-man’s-land border area, toward the Kenya side. I had to unstrap it to get at my passport and accidentally rode off without it. I rode back to the border, and the officials on both sides were cool enough to let me ride in, grab my tent, and ride out again. Maybe the horror stories are dead wrong.

Tour D'Afrique cyclists after crossing the border

I rode with Megan most of the day, the girl from Bike-and-Build. We were content to be nearly last and take our time. Despite feeling a bit slow, we made it to Arusha (115km away) by 230pm. I was able to get a comically large stack of cash from the ATM ($1 USD = 1,500 TZ Shillings) and get a sim card in town. I had a contact to stay with in Arusha, but I wanted to see where TD’A was staying since they were all taking 3 days off. I rode to their camp, got off the bike, and was ready to collapse. I called my contact who lives 15km back toward Namanga and told him I don’t have the energy to ride back. He understood and came out to camp to visit.

My contact is a family member in a roundabout way. Back in the US, my cousin is married to a man from Rwanda. His brother is Janvier, who lives in Arusha. We had been emailing for a few weeks and were looking forward to meeting each other. At the same time, the TD’A people were settling in for a good night of drinking and getting rowdy. I was relieved that Janvier was able to visit, but also not offended by my decision to stay and party. We had a good chat. He described how to find his house the next day, and left me to my vices.

Tent city in Arusha, Tanzania

The night was a typical drunken shit-show. I loved it. Everybody was ready to unwind. People were ripping on each other’s countries and riding abilities. I felt so good to throw out responsibility for an evening, even though this seems to be happening more and more these days.

A story came up for the second time since meeting Tour D'Afrique that freaked me out a bit. When their big convoy of cyclists was on the road from Hell (north Kenya), several of them were held at gunpoint and robbed. Shots were even fired to get their attention. Some riders were assaulted, but not too seriously. It was humbling to hear that. They went through just a few weeks after me. I had no bad encounters. Part of that may be that 80 people create quite a stir, and by the time the last riders come through, people have had a chance to organize an attack. Traveling alone, I just go by and the opportunity is gone. I also traveled when there was a lot of rain, so people were less desperate for drinking water. In the end, however, I think I was just lucky.

Day 58: Arusha

I slept in, destroyed the public toilet with my morning-after-beer shits, and hit the road to Janvier’s house. It’s located on the campus grounds of Mt. Meru University where he teaches Psychology. The campus is beautiful. The greenery extends for miles in all directions, and Mt. Meru stands tall and proud behind it. It used to be a Baptist Monastery, and it has a very western feel. It’s about 10km from the center of town, so it’s also very quiet and peaceful.

Janvier showed me the amazing hospitality that makes Africans some of the warmest people I’ve ever met. He made sure I had plenty of food, and gave me my own room and a bed to sleep in. It’s so comforting to stay with someone with whom I share a family connection. I think I’ll enjoy resting here for a few days before making my final push to Moshi, and my final cycling destination – the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Greetings from Tanzania!

2011-03-16T09:21:00.001-07:00

Made it to Arusha! Lots to write about, but internet is slow right now. Update, with photos, tomorrow!

My Time in Nairobi

2011-03-12T11:34:00.000-08:00

Day 49: Kiambu to Nairobi

I rode from Kiambu town where I was staying with James into the city of Nairobi. I took a roundabout, meandering route to avoid the heavy traffic that Nairobi is known for. The recent trend of suburban-style neighborhoods being built around the city has led to severe congestion. At least on this crooked route I could avoid the major highways.

I first rode into the business district. I got off and pushed my bike down the crowded city sidewalks past bank headquarters, TV stations, and large hotels. Men in sharp looking suits were walking with authority, speaking in perfect English into their smartphones. I was in torn clothing, pushing a bicycle with a tent bungeed to the handlebars. I enjoyed the contrast and the funny looks I received from these Nairobi big shots.

The western feel of downtown Nairobi caught me off guard. Compared to Addis Ababa (Ethiopia), Nairobi is much more modernized. I really felt like I could have been in any major city in the US.

After I’d had my fun turning heads on the Kenyan Wall street, I went across the main road to Uhuru Park. It’s a big green space with ponds and paved foot trails. Venders sell their sugary drinks and samosas, children run and play, and adults rest in the shade. The incredible view of the cityscape reminded me of Central Park in NYC. See photos from previous blog post.

I still had some time to kill, so I found a coffee shop. All the restaurants I’ve been serve Nescafe instant coffee. BARF! Especially after coming from the land of coffee, I can’t drink that swamp water. I searched high and low and finally found a small café that serves proper cups of coffee. The amused staff was very helpful and even let me bring my filthy bike into their decorative dining room.

After 2 cups of coffee and bowl of chocolate ice cream while rocking some Victor Wooten on the iPod, I cycled to the house of Sebastian, Alicia, and Philippa. They are three journalists and filmmakers shooting a documentary about camel milk. They are currently in Kenya editing before they head off to Somaliland and Sudan. The topic of camel milk would have had very little interest to me before meeting them. After they explained some facts with enthusiasm, I couldn’t wait to see the final film. It was a good sales pitch.

I got in touch with them through www.couchsurfing.org which is a website that links travelers with hosts to stay with all over the world. I hosted many people in Ethiopia, and have utilized it a few times on this trip. We chatted a bit, but they were busy and I was tired, so I soon went to sleep.

Day 50: Nairobi

For the 50^th day of Low2high: Africa, I had a restful day of tuning up the bicycle, drinking coffee, and listening to music. Most of the house’s occupants were gone for the day. I took full advantage of having a large workspace and tore the bicycle apart. It was good to make some much needed adjustments.

Everyone (the 3 plus 5 other CS guests) all came back around 4pm for a prescheduled yoga session. Two young Kenyan men are yoga instructors and came to lead an hour long workout. We all went upstairs to a large, empty room. I’ve done yoga before, but it’s been years, literally. I rocked the downward dog, but anything requiring flexibility was near impossible. My body strained to get into position. My legs felt tighter than an E String. One of the instructors would come around and ‘assist’ us, which consisted of him pushing my back into place. The loud popping sounds that that interrogation move created were reminiscent of an old creaking door. The pain of a thousand knives shot up my nervous system. This must be what women in labor feel when they get an epidural.

After the cruel and unusual punishment had ended, I said goodbye to our captors in athletic clothes. I checked myself briefly for Stockholm Syndrome. None to be found. Goodbye, you new-age violators of the Geneva Convention.

People stayed around for dinner. It was fascinating to see what people were doing in Nairobi. The filmmakers had started their own organization while living in China called the ‘What Took You So Long Foundation’. www.whattookyousolong.org Another girl had filmed aid projects all over the world to try and measure the effectiveness of the industry as a whole. She had interviewed aid workers and even Peace Corps Volunteers. The videos are posted at www.beyondgoodintentions.com

I enjoyed the evening.

Day 51: Nairobi and back to Kiambu

Leaving the bike behind, I wandered on foot through Nairobi with 2 other American couchsurfers. My first order of business was a proper burger. At a place in Yaya Center, I had a double cheeseburger with bacon and guacamole. I love Nairobi.

The rest of the afternoon brought me ice cream, a walk through the Arboretum showcasing indigenous and invasive trees in Kenya, and then to yet another restaurant for some cold Guinness.

After the day of indulgences, I went back to the house, hopped on my bike, and cycled back to Kiambu. I was running a bit late, so I ended up breaking my cardinal rule and cycling in the dark. The lack of light wasn’t so bad, but the fact that my front brakes failed was a bit terrifying on the down hills. When my back gear cable snapped, stranding my bike into a single, high gear, the up hills turned into epic battles. Little by little, I made it back to Kiambu and crashed at James’ house again. I was glad that ride was over.

Day 52: Rest day in Kiambu. Internet, food, and coffee!

Day 53: Kiambu

Today was my birthday! I celebrated in proper fashion by sleeping in, doing as little as possible all day long, and then going out for dinner and beer. I met James, his coworkers, and his brother after they had finished work for the day. His coworkers were a fun bunch, and they all seemed in agreement that I was crazy for attempting this expedition. I never tire of seeing the faces of people when they first hear that I bicycled from Djibouti.

After 7 Guinnesses (Guinni? Um, after consuming 7 beers with ‘Guinness’on the label), it was time to get trashy. We walked around the corner to an OilLibya gas station, bought a case of beer, ordered pizza from the attached Pizza Inn, and sat out front indulging in our cheap vices. Bellies full, we proceeded to a dance club to experience the finer side of life in Nairobi.

The club had a dress code, I believe. No one cared as I entered, but once inside I saw guys in dress shirts and nice shoes. Girls were in sexy dresses that I rather enjoyed. I was rocking an REI fleece jacket that covered my stained t-shirt. My hiking boots were clearly the meant for dancing. I was incognito. Or drunk. Perception is reality.

Dance clubs being very low on my list of fun activities for a Friday night, I was relieved when my phone rang with a call from America. I snuck out to take it, but stayed longer to make various drunk dials to old college friends in America.

All in all it was a good night. I finally crawled into bed at 4am, room spinning. I’m too old for this.

Day 54: Rest day in Kiambu. Heading out of Nairobi tomorrow on the final push to Tanzania.

Photos from Nairobi

2011-03-12T02:17:00.000-08:00

Nairobi!

2011-03-06T05:30:00.000-08:00

The plan to go to Hell's Gate National Park failed. I was told about a mystery road that is not on my map. South of Nanyuki, off of the main highway, it goes west to connect to the Nyahururu Highway. It would save me about 60km of peddling.

I headed south, finally crossing the Equator. I crossed it before while trekking Mt. Kenya, I believe, but then returned to Nanyuki. After peddling my loaded bike across the rather tacky sign just south of Nanyuki, Low2High is officially in the southern hemisphere! I pushed for about 30km to the town of Naro Moru and found the shortcut to my right. The dirt road was a bit rough, but running parallel to it was a user-made path that was very smooth. I followed that until a junction, where locals told me to turn left.

Turning left was my downfall. The bumpy road knocked one of my panniers off the rack. The elastic strap that keeps tension on it caused it to swing into my rear wheel, smashing against it and breaking 6 spokes. I found myself on the side of the road, rebuilding my rear wheel, again. The only good part was that it was the left pannier, so the broken spokes were not on the cassette-side of the wheel. The fast-moving spokes also tore a hole in my pannier. I field-patched it with, of all things, a mango juice carton, the contents of which I finished with my roadside lunch. The repair took about 2 1/2 hours with truing, so I had a lot of time to think and reflect.

Low2High started with a very ambitious route. Traveling through Somaliland would have been an experience to say the least, but the short 30-day visa for Ethiopia forced me to skip it and go directly from Djibouti to Ethiopia. That same time constraint forced me to cross into Kenya at the common crossing in Moyale, instead of the path-less-taken route around Lake Turkana. The final deviation from the shortest route possible was to go around Lake Victoria, visiting Uganda and Rwanda, with potential side trips to DR Congo and Burundi. With the constant mechanical problems I am having, that route too is now being sacrificed. I have no choice but to head south, directly to Kilimanjaro, staying on the asphalt roads. Otherwise, the bicycle may not make it.

A part of me always thought that the bicycle was the weakest link in this whole plan. In reality, I should have planned better and gotten a better bicycle, better tools, and learned more about bicycle maintenance. I can only blame myself for the repetitive breakdowns.The bike is an easy scapegoat, but I planned this trip from beginning to end, so it's all on me.

All I can do now is take the path of least resistance from Nairobi, over the Tanzania border to Arusha and Moshi, and then up the mountain. Low2High will still be complete, but the side trips that are more 'Kyle's Vacation' and not crucial to the expedition have been dropped.

That all said, I am enjoying a few days of in Nairobi, Kenya. I fixed the bike, made it to tarmac, and headed immediately toward Nairobi. I am staying with a Kenyan couple for now, but may move closer to the center of the city with to a house occupied by Americans and Europeans so I can see more of the city. The traffic here is INSANITY, so I'm planning my bicycle movements carefully.

I'll write another update when I get moving again, but for now, here is a quick rundown of the last few days.

Day 44: Rest Day in Nanyuki after descending Mt. Kenya.

Day 45: Nanyuki, across the Equator to Naro Moru, west to the Nyahururu Highway, then south to Karatina for an overnight in a hotel.

Day 46: Karatina to Thika, where the road becomes a major 4-lane highway under construction. It's a nightmare to cycle on at the moment, so I actually spent most of my time cycling on the dirt shoulder.

Day 47: Thika to Ruira via the highway, then from Ruira I took a different road to Kiambu town, which is a suburb to the north of Nairobi. This is where I've been staying for the last 2 days.

Day 48: Rest day in Kiambu.

Kyle

Days: 37-43 Mount Kenya trek

2011-03-02T04:09:00.000-08:00

Days 37 and 38: Rest days in Nanyuki. Took care of logistics like laundry, ATM, and drinking Guinness!

Day 39, Mt. Kenya Day 1: Nanyuki 9km to Old Moses Camp (3300m), Sirimon Route

The guide company I booked my trek through is based out of Riverside Hotel, where I've been staying the last few days. They were generous enough to let me store the bicycle and my non-trekking luggage in their office while I was away for the trek. The office managers, Joe and Mohammed, are really cool guys. The price seems fair (5 days, all-inclusive, for $550 USD), and the trek is set to leave from Nanyuki, following Sirimon Route up to the summit of Point Lenana,and then traverse down the eastern side of the mountain, following Chagoria Route down.

I first have to be clear on 2 details - #1: I took a car to the park entrance from Nanyuki. It would have been possible to cycle to the entrance, but the return trip from the other side requires a series of vehicles, and I didn't want the bicycle to get 'lost' in the shuffle. I had a safe place to store it, so I did. This Mt. Kenya trek doesn't make forward progress for Low2High, so I'll start cycling from where I left off in Nanyuki afterward.

#2: Point Lenana is not the true summit of Mt. Kenya. The true summit is Betian Peak at 5199m, and requires a technical climb to summit. I don't have the equipment or skills to climb the peak, so I'm going to the 'common peak' or 'trekking peak' of Point Lenana at 4985m.

I trekked with a Dutch couple I met at my hotel, Maurice and Esther. We left with our comically large support crew (1 guide, 1 cook, and 2 porters) from the park entrance at 2680m at around 11am. We had an easy 9km hike to Old Moses Camp at 3300m. The hot afternoon sun was soon blocked by clouds and our camp got rather cold. Camp offered a great view of the summit and the plains below. In the distance, wildfires were burning. Our guide, Jon, told us that after a long dry spell, farmers will set fire to grasslands. They believe the smoke turns into rainclouds and brings the rains. I see the logic, but fear the consequences of lighting dry fields on fire with no firefighting system in place.

We had the camp to ourselves for about an hour, but then a crew of 20 Danish girls, about 18 years old, came strolling into camp. If you ever want to hear the world's loudest and most obnoxious sound, hang out with 20 high-school girls. I had heard that in Kenya, traditional healers believe that the body parts of albinos can be used to create magic potions and medicines. Jon confirmed this, so I vowed to find a healer the next day and tell him that it was his lucky day because 20 albinos were on their way up the mountain!

Our posh mountain package took care of all our meals, so after some tea and a great dinner, we went to sleep early on the provided bunk beds.

Day 40, Mt. Kenya Day 2: Old Moses Camp (3300m) 14km to Shipton Camp (4200m), Sirimon Route

Today was a fun hike with great views. We started at 7am to beat the large group out of camp, and to look for that traditional healer. The morning was cold, but the sun eventually came out, and soon we were sweating. The summit was visible for almost the entire hike. That's one thing I really enjoy about Mt. Kenya. The summit is so pronounced, and visible for miles in all directions. Many mountain summits are not visible from the mountain itself until you are literally standing on top of it. The Mt. Kenya summit is always up there, visible and taunting. It's a great way to stay motivated, watching the rock-and-ice tower get ever closer.

The summit actually looks rather intimidating to me, especially as the afternoon clouds engulf it. I thought I might be a little disappointed at not reaching the true summit, but a closer look at it actually scares me. Vertical walls of black volcanic rock, so high in the atmosphere that they have year-round ice and snow despite lying directly on the equator. This is a peak for expert climbers, which I am not. The trekking peak sounds good to me.

As I strolled into Shipton Camp, it started hailing! There was a British woman in camp already who was fun to talk to. We claimed our bunks as the hail on the metal roof became louder. The hail intensified into a barrage of shrapnel. As the Danish rolled into camp during the worst of it, a little smile crept across my ginger-bearded face. No albino love potion tonight, but at least they got hailed on! Mother Nature is just, and maybe I'll get some sleep tonight.

Around 7pm, a British Army member and his Kenyan guide strolled into camp from higher up. They had ropes, helmets, crampons, an ice axes. I started to feel a little jealous. That frightening summit is actually climbable! The Brit was completely exhausted. I asked if he summited. He humbly said "Yes, thanks to the good weather." I congratulated him on climbing Africa's second highest mountain (after Kilimanjaro), and left him to finish his meal. He was completely shattered. I want to be him.

The big Danish crew and the British lady were all going straight to the summit the following day, so they planned to leave at 3am. The whole camp was quite by 8pm, and we got a decent night of sleep. I had weird dreams about the Foot Soldiers from the first Ninja Turtles movie coming into my parents' house and skateboarding around our dining room. Anti-malaria pills, high altitude, and sleep deprivation. More fun than alcohol!

Day 41, Mt. Kenya Day 3: Shipton Camp (4200m) 8km to Austrian Hut (4790m), Sirimon Route

Today was a hard day of trekking. We traversed several ridges, so we'd go up a few hundred meters just to lose it all on the other side. By choice, I am carrying all my gear (except food) for the entire trek. I didn't pay for a porter. I figured if I can carry all this gear on a bicycle from Lake Assal 2,200km to Nanyuki, then I can surely carry it on my back up to Point Lenana. The first two days I was able to keep pace with my lightweight partners, but the downhills of Day 3 proved to be difficult. I moved slowly, trying not to stumble under the weight. My quads are strong from a month of cycling, but the small stabilizing muscles in my knees seem very weak. A month of very little walking will do that, I guess. The lesson learned is that I need to trek more before attempting Kilimanjaro.

Despite my new found hatred of gravity, I didn't slow down the team too much. The low valley between the ridges collected water from melting glaciers, which were now next to us instead of over us. The water pooled into large glacial lakes and provided life to hundreds of plants. I was tempted to jump in, but one hand in the water talked me out of it. The water was only a degree or two above freezing. Glaciers = Cold. Write that one to memory, Kyle.

Cold or not, the lakes were beautiful. We were well above the tree line, and most of the brush had even disappeared after that morning's first ascent. The lakes allowed little oases to form high on the mountain.

The final ascent of the day took us past Lemmi Glacier (which I hope is a Motorhead tribute!). This hill was a killer for me. Ten stops, then stop so I can pant for 2 minutes. Ten more steps, then out of breath again. This hill was to bring us to Austrian Hut at 4790m (about 15,720 feet), much higher than I have ever gone in my life. Part of my reason for trekking Mt Kenya was to see how my body does at higher altitude. At this point my energy was waning, I felt like I was gasping for air, and I felt a touch of a headache forming. 'This is not good...' I thought to myself. We had heard about and seen a few people coming down the mountain with mild high-altitude sickness. Not acclimatizing properly can lead to headaches, lethargy, and exhaustion. We ascended 2100m in less than 3 days - definitely too quick. If it gets worse, fluid can form in the brain or lungs, causing much bigger problems. I didn't know if my slight headache was the result of altitude or another issue. Either way, it was very mild and we were almost at camp, so I carried on.

Less than an hour later, without taking any pain killers, my headache was gone. Maybe it was dehydration or lack of sleep. I was just happy that I could continue the trek!

The hut itself was all booked up by technical climbers (aka badasses). After 3 days of hauling my tent, I had the opportunity to actually use it. I found a rock-free spot near Motorhead Glacier that blocked some of the wind. It was impossible to stake the tent into the rocky dirt, so I placed a big-old rock in each corner of the tent's interior. I tossed my pack inside and went into the hut for food.

All the tech climbers were on the mountain except for a goofy old Aussie named Nick. He was taking a rest day at Austrian Hut to help him acclimatize a bit more before his summit attempt. He recommended I also take a rest day before the summit of Kilimanjaro, which he had recently summited.

Nick is a big talker, yet still humble. He told me stories of skiing in the Arctic, climbing Denali and Logan, and climbing in Yosemite, but I almost had to force the stories out of him. He like the idea of Low2High: Africa, and seemed genuinely hopeful for my success. The part I think I like most about the life of Nick the Chatty Aussie is that he still works, keeps in touch with his family, and has a full life outside of outdoor adventures. He's not just a climbing junkie or ski bum. He has a full life. That's how I imagine my future to be. With the exception of Ed Viesturs, most of the explorers who's books I read talk about their accomplishments in the mountains, but rarely about balancing a life outside of that world. Seeing a living example of a man who can balance life and adventure is inspiring to me.

At around 7pm, 2 Greek climbers strolled into the hut after successful summit attempts. Too many badasses. I needed to go to bed.

Sleep was terrible. I was warm in my tent, but the wind was making my tent flap an was very distracting. Esther and Maurice complained about the same thing in the morning. Maybe the altitude makes it hard to sleep?

Day 42, Mt. Kenya Day 4: Austrian Hut (4790m) following Sirimon Route 1km to Point Lenana (4985m)
Descending Chagoria Route 19km to Mt. Kenya Lodge (2600m)

Summit Day! We left Austrian Hut before dawn to hopefully catch the sunrise from the summit. The trek was steep, but it helped us keep warm in the morning darkness. Armed with headlamps and heavy clothing, we reached the summit at 6am, a few minutes before the sun was to come up. The Kenyan flag marking our summit was just above us. We waited out of the wind, shivering but happy.

We were just below Point Lenana. Across from us to the west was Nenilen Peak, which the technical climbers have to traverse to get to the base of Betian Peak, the true summit of Mt Kenya. As the sun rose, Point Lenana cast a huge shadow onto Nenilen. We were looking for Nick and his guide, but couldn't spot them.

At 620am, the sun rose. It didn't provide any warmth with its first appearance, but it lit up the summit into a beautiful radiating orange. We climbed the last few meters to the summit and took a few photos. Soon after, the summit got a bit crowded. A crew from Shipton had just come up, and another crew ascending Chagoria Route soon followed. Everyone was polite and civil, allowing all parties to get their obligatory summit photos with the tell-tale flag.

I heard it was possible on a clear morning, but I didn't want to get my hopes up of spotting Kilimanjaro. As the sun's rays raced across the earth, I looked south and I saw it! There it was, 300 km away, but clearly visible. The flat, snow-capped peak of Africa's highest mountain was visible to the naked eye. I got quite excited. It was like seeing the finish line of a long race. After looking at hundreds of photos and reading so many stories from my home in Ethiopia, I could see the mountain that set this whole expedition in motion. For the first time on this entire expedition, the end feels near. Maybe this is possible after all.

A few more photos and some quick video made my hands go numb. It was time to descend. As we scaled down the western side of the summit, the sun had risen enough to light up Nick and his guide. Small specks in comparison to the mountain. I couldn't even make them out in a photo.

We descended quickly down the Chagoria Route, heading toward the town of Meru. The gentle slope was much easier for me and my heavy load. We stopped for food along the way, which the cook and porters had waiting for us. What service! We walked down one hilltop that had been completely burned up in a fire in December. The new growth was very slow as the rain won't come until late March. This fire, like many others, was the result of farmers attempting to create rain. Again, I see their logic, but I wish they wouldn't set the National Parks on fire.

We strolled into Mt Kenya Lodge around 3pm. We had wonderful cabins with hot showers and fireplaces! Cold beer was advertised, but room-temperature beer was served. At that point, I was ok with a less-than-perfect drink. There were warnings all over the camp about dangerous wildlife. No predators, but buffaloes and elephants were common. Exhausted, I fell asleep at 8pm. Maurice said our cabin was surrounded by buffaloes all night long, making noise and grazing. I was blissfully unconscious, although it would have been cool to see some wildlife.

Day 43, Mt. Kenya Day 5: Mt. Kenya Lodge (2600m) 10km to a cushy 4WD truck, to Meru, and back to Nanyuki

After finally getting a proper sleep, I woke up to breakfast and tea. We had a beautiful hike down the eastern side of the park through a bamboo forest. The dusty track left clear footprints of dikdiks, wild cats, and elephants. I still haven't seen an elephant, but the sheer size of one's footprint was enough to freak me out a bit.

We took a series of vehicles back to Nanyuki. The bit of confusion reinforced that I made the right decision leaving the bike behind. Arranging to have it brought to Meru would have been a mess.

I booked another night at the hotel, got my bike out of storage, and later enjoyed a victory dinner with Esther and Maurice. Cold Tusker never tasted so good. I'm taking a full day off before hopping back on the bike. I plan to go west a bit to Naivasha and cycle through Hell's Gate National Park. Time to see some animals!

Kyle

Off to trek Mt. Kenya

2011-02-24T22:24:00.000-08:00

Kenya, so far, has been great. The people are taking good care of me. Most say they'd never do the northern road even in a car, so they take a lot of sympathy on me. Nanyuki is a great town with proper supermarkets and amazing coffee. I even had a Guinness (or 3) last night. Mt. Kenya is looming over the town, inviting me to come up and take a look.

I'm off to go trekking. I'll check in again with more photos next week when I get off the mountain.

Thanks to everyone who has donated. Low2High: Africa has now raised more than 1,400 British Pounds. Almost 60% of the goal has been raised. Spread the word and keep the donations coming. Donate!

Kyle

Days 28-36: Northern and Central Kenya

2011-02-24T08:40:00.000-08:00

Day 28: Moyale, Ethiopia to Sololo, Kenya

I woke up at 5am to a downpour. It was really loud on the metal roof,
as always. I had to take a shit, but there was no bathroom on the
compound. Shit before you fuck, I guess. My room, and this is pretty
gross now that I think about it, did in fact have a shower. I thought
about pooping in the shower, but was nice and pooped in a plastic bag
instead. I left the bag in the shower, though. I hate this hotel.

I was told that the Immigration Office opened at 6am, so I rode
through the rain to the gate, only to find it closed until 8am. The
guard was cool and let me into the compound to get out of the rain. I
had to pee, but there was no public toilet. When the guard wasn’t
looking, I peed in an empty water bottle and poured it into the
garden. What a weird morning.

No problem at the border. I got through both offices and into Kenya by
840am. It was still wet out, but not raining. The asphalt ends at the
border, so I now face 400km of unpaved track through the infamous
North Kenya. This stretch of road is known for banditry, drought, and
temperatures well into the 100’s. The wild west.

I was expecting a really hard ride, similar to NE Ethiopia on my way
to Dire Dawa, but this stretch was pretty easy. I rode 84km to Sololo,
and arrived by 345pm. I went to the only hotel, and had a feast of
rice, meat, beans, and vegetables. Perfect after-ride food. The owner
of the hotel was really cool, and the people treated me with a lot of
decency and respect. It was good to feel normal again. People were
relaxed and didn’t seem to care that I was white. So far, I really
like Kenya.

Day 29: Sololo to Turbi

Had a big breakfast and a good send-off. More rain overnight actually
left puddles on the dirt road. I put a different rear tire on my bike.
This one is made of Kevlar and has bike spikes for traction. It’s
perfect for mud and sand, so I decided to give it a shot.

The tire has been working great, digging into the mud and pushing me
along at a fast pace. It feels like I’m cheating. The ride was pretty
straight forward to the town of Walda, which is halfway to Turbi. The
2nd half of the ride was a lot harder. The sun came out, and it got
really hot and sandy. My water bottles were actually hot to the touch
from the intense sunlight. I made it to Turbi around 3pm, got a decent
room in a hotel, and had another big dinner. Some dust twisters in the
distance worried me, but the locals didn’t seem concerned. Apparently
they don’t actually do any damage. Tomorrow I cross 80 km of hot
desert.

Day 30: Turbi to ‘Camp Nowhere’

Epic day! This is where North Kenya throws everything at me.

I left Turbi at first light, around 620am with the cloud cover. I took
advantage of the overcast and pushed hard and fast all morning. I was
making good time. I was hoping it might even rain a little bit. Be
careful what you wish for!

At 10am it started raining, hard! The road turned to mud, and even had
small rivers running through it. The wind was throwing rain straight
into me, and I was shivering from the cold. By 1pm, it was impossible
to ride on the road anymore. I got off the bike and started pushing it
through fast moving, muddy rivers. It was hard to tell where the rocks
were, so I put the bike in the water, looking for ripples where the
murky water was flowing over rocks. I walked on the muddy banks. The
mud was so thick that it would suck the shoes off my feet when I
lifted my legs.

By now, the spike tire was completely shredded. I had 2 punctures and
decided it was time to switch back to my road tires. The crappy,
Chinese-made tires I bought in Ethiopia for $8 held up better than
anything. Go figure.

At one point, I came across some big barrels on the side of the road.
There was a tarp on top of them, so using the barrels and my bike
frame, I made a quick, impromptu shelter to sit and eat some food. The
wind was blowing, and the rain never-ending. I was shivering in my
shelter, munching on kolo and peanuts, trying to figure out what to
do. All my clothes were soaked. I was using a bucket as a seat, and my
feet were in 3 inches of water. I was miserable.

I decided that I can’t get any wetter, and should just push on. At
least the hard work keeps me warmer. The rain finally stopped around
330pm, but the road was a mess. I kept pushing the bike through the
standing water.

My plan was to push until 5pm. If I didn’t see the town of Bubisa by
then, I’d set up camp. Around 430, I saw what could be buildings in
the distance. I pushed through more mud to get closer, and then
realized what I was looking at was 4 trucks stuck in the mud, with all
the passengers standing around, waiting. Not a good sign for me. The
fact that people were not walking implied that Bubisa was not close. I
decided to set up camp.

The terrain in this part of Kenya is flat ground covered in boulders.
It’s probably easier to camp on Mars. I looked for high ground, but
there was no point. It was all flat. I found a spot that was less-wet,
cleared out some of the bigger, sharper rocks, and set up my tent.

With the remaining hour of sunlight, I tried to dry out my tent and
sleeping bag. It didn’t work out very well. At 7pm, I crawled into my
soaking wet sleeping bag and zipped it up. Hopefully the synthetic
insulation works while wet, I thought to myself. I wasn’t cold, but
zipping up into a moist bag is something your body resists. It’s just
unpleasant. Laying on the hard, lumpy rocks in my heavy, sloppy
sleeping bag, I tried to get some sleep. What a day.

Day 31: ‘Camp Nowhere’ to Bubisa

It did rain a little bit overnight, but my tent kept it all out. I
waited around in the morning sun to try and dry off my stuff a bit
more. From being in a wet sleeping bag all night, the skin on my
entire body was wrinkled like fingertips after swimming. I looked like
the love child of the Crypt Keeper and Joan Rivers. 2 of the 4 trucks
were gone, which seemed promising for me. I rode past the remaining
trucks where just about everyone asked me for cigarettes. Not food or
water, but smokes. There was a young Israeli couple who had bought a
seat in one of the trucks looking pretty strung out. They just wanted
to get moving after overnighting in a freight truck. I didn’t blame
them. One driver told me that a flash flood came through behind them
the day before, and another truck had radioed for help getting out of
the mud. I apparently just missed this, and would have been in big
trouble being hit by a flash flood on a bicycle. Luckily I had already
gotten through that area before the flash flood hit.

The road was all mud after this. I still couldn’t ride the bike. The
mud was thick, heavy, and sticky. I even removed the rucksack and
carried on my back to lighten the bike’s load. The tries still sank
into the mud, picked up stones, and would jam up the brakes. Every 10
feet, I was stopping to pull huge clumps of mud out of the brake
levers. The tires would stop dead. It was really slow going, but
didn’t really frustrate me. I was just pushing on, doing what I had to
do.

After another km or so, the road got so bad I couldn’t even push the
bike through it anymore. I pulled off the panniers and carried them
and the rucksack ahead until the ground firmed up a bit. I then walked
back to the bicycle and carried it to the bags. This stretch was maybe
only 2km, but it took a lot of time to make multiple trips through
thick mud.

The ground did eventually rise higher and dry out. I was able to load
the bike back up and ride it to Bubisa. My derailleur was jammed, so I
was on a single-speed bike for the morning. Luckily it was stuck in a
low gear which I could use. I arrived in Bubisa around 1pm and stuffed
my face with food and water. The hotel there was nice enough to let me
use their water to clean all the mud out of my bike. The moving parts
were locked in place from stones and mud. I set up my tent and hung my
clothes and sleeping bag on a line. Everything dried. I oiled up the
bike and was ready for another day.

Day 32: Bubisa to Marsabit

My stuff was scattered everywhere drying, so I took extra time in the
morning to make sure I packed up everything. Today’s ride was really
hard. I went into the Marsabit National Park, past some cool volcanic
crater, and into Marsabit town. The road was really rough and rocky,
making my ride slow. I was so hot that for the first time since
Djibouti, I thought I might get heat exhaustion. I pulled over to sit
in the shade while the midday sun passed.

I arrived in Marsabit around 4pm. I splurged on a nicer hotel so I
could have a hot shower. It felt good to be clean after the mud-fest
of the last few days. I had a TV in my room and was quite entertained
by Kenyan television. Later at night, they were playing Japanese soap
operas overdubbed in English with Swahili subtitles. It was hilarious.

Day 33: Marsabit, past Kamboke, to roadside camp

Free breakfast! The perks of a nice hotel. I hit the road around
830am. The ride was much easier today. The road had some less-rough
spots where I was able to pick up some speed and smoothly cover a lot
of ground. My plan was to stop in Kamboke for the day, but I arrived
there at 11am, so decided to keep going. I carried on past another
town, Dolodolo, but then the road got a lot rougher.

I was back on the corrugations that shake everything to pieces. The
wavy road had come and gone a lot on this stretch like it did north of
Dire Dawa, but now it was back with a vengeance. I got impatient,
stood up out of my saddle, and peddled hard. Big mistake!

The back end of my bike ended up bouncing so much that I broke
something. I heard a pop, and then a grinding sound. I thought I broke
the rear wheel again. I pulled over to inspect the damage. The pannier
rack had broken again. His time it wasn’t the bolt, but the rack
itself. The metal with the hole the bolt goes through had sheared off
at the hole. I thought that I was finished and would need to hitch a
ride. I really didn’t want to do that after beating myself up over it
in Ethiopia, so I improvised.

I looked harder and realized that the way the part had broken was
manageable. The metal surrounding the bolt hole broke almost
symmetrically in half. This meant the rack could hold weight straight
down. It actually broke from the force of the luggage pulling up on
the bumpy road. I took a spare spoke and bent it around the frame and
the rack, twisting it tight so it would prevent the two pieces from
pulling apart. So the original rack was holding the downward force,
and the spoke holding the upward force.

This was a quick-fix, meant only to get me to the asphalt. It needs to
be welded to be properly fixed. To minimize the upward force on the
jerry-rigged rack, I took all the heavy items out of the panniers and
moved them into the rucksack. I filled the panniers up with light
clothing. I then wore the rucksack on my back and peddled on. If the
rough road was uncomfortable before, it was now excruciatingly
painful. Every time my ass slammed down on the seat, it now had an
extra 40 pounds slamming down with it. I could only carry on another 3
hours before I was hurting too much.

I pulled over for the night. I found a good spot with rocks to hide
from view of the road. There were no signs of people or wildlife. With
2+ hours of sunlight left, I used the time to sew my torn shirt,
adjust my pack straps, and patch a tube that had punctured. This was
the first day that I stopped out of pain. I just couldn’t carry on
with the rucksack.

I slept out under the stars. No tent. It was a beautiful night with a
full moon, which rose as a deep yellow, I think from the dust in the
atmosphere. I slept well and had no encounters with animals or people.

Day 34: Roadside camp to Sere Olupi

I woke up at dawn and got an early start. I felt really slow and
sluggish. I was carrying the rucksack still, and my legs just had no
strength. I hadn’t eaten much the night before, and I think that was
making me sluggish. I had to stop every 20 minutes to straighten out
my back and take the weight of the pack off of my shoulders. It was
slow going, and painful. The only motivation was the possibility of
reaching asphalt today.

I made it to Laisamis at 930am. None of the restaurants were open yet,
but one place offered to go to the market, buy eggs, and cook them for
me. Great! I had some toast and delicious eggs for breakfast. The
people were really relaxed. We talked about progress in Africa, and
being American, had the obligatory conversation about President Obama
and his family in Kenya. I actually spent an hour and a half there,
chatting and eating. It felt good to have the pack off.

A cyclist who rode this stretch 3 months before me had emailed me a
detailed breakdown of North Kenya. According to him, the asphalt
started in Sere Olupi, another 60km south of Laisamis. The guys in
town said it started in Merille, only 15km south. I’ve learned to
manage my expectations and didn’t get my hopes up for asphalt today.

I left Laisamis around 11am heading south. Next to the road was a path
with motorcycle tore tracks on it. I tried to follow it. The path
ended up being much faster than the road. The road was back to awful
undulations, but the path was hard-packed, smooth sand. It was a
breeze by comparison. I followed the path under acacia trees, over dry
riverbeds, and around rocks. I felt like I was moving quite fast, but
best of all I wasn’t bouncing. Around 130pm, I reached Merille. I
didn’t see any asphalt. I got some lunch which was more than enough to
lift my spirits.

In the restaurant, guys were asking me about my travels on the bike.
They couldn’t believe I cycled from Moyale. “The road is terrible!”
they’d say. They then said that I’ve made it, because from now on it’s
asphalt all the way to Nairobi. I still didn’t believe them. I hadn’t
seen any asphalt on my way into town. I paid for my food and hopped on
the bike, southbound.

On the south end of town is a small hill. I climbed up it and then
almost collapsed at what I saw… Asphalt! One km away was a bridge, and
it was paved after that! I slowly rode toward it, still not able to
comprehend a smooth road. My eyes kept telling my brain, but my ass
was still skeptical.

I crossed the bridge onto the smooth tarmac and a big grin swept over
my face. It was the best feeling in the world. I peddled effortlessly
down the road, around the first bend, and remembered they drive on the
left in Kenya, so shifted to the other side of the road.

After some debate, I figured the rack was good enough to hold the
rucksack on tarmac, so I strapped it down. It was good to have what I
started calling ‘the pig’ off my back. I rode another 1/2km and then
my front tire went flat. Weird, I thought, but then remembered the
acacia trees on the path. I pulled the tube out and there were 4
thorns sticking out of it. I decided to change both tubes and ride on
my other set of tires until I could sit down and make sure all the
thorns are out. It was a 30 minute job, but worth it. It was smooth
sailing all the way to Sere Olupi.

North Kenya was, without a doubt, the hardest physical challenge of my
life. I had to ride, push, and drag my bike through it all. I was
always watchful for animals and bandits. I had cold rain and flash
floods. I had burning sun, dust, and sand. I slept on a bed of rocks
in a wet bag. It was lonely. I had a breakdown that I thought would
end my trip in the north. Despite all the challenges, seven days
later, I was on tarmac, bike still in working order, and my body was
still in one piece. I felt such elation. I really think the hardest
stretch of Low2High: Africa is behind me now.

I cycled to Sere Olupi, got a hotel, but couldn’t sleep. The last
seven days were replaying in my head. I was content, and happy.

Day 35: Sere Olupi to Isiolo

I slept in a little bit, planning to only go to Archer’s Post, 60km
south of Sere Olupi. I was moving fast through the mountains and
feeling good. I arrived at Archer’s Post at 2pm with a lot of energy
to spare, so I pushed on to Isiolo. This is the first city of any real
size I’d seen since Ethiopia. I had a few small mishaps with that
whole driving-on-the-left concept, but no accidents. Kenyan drivers
seems used to things randomly jumping out in front of their cars,
whether it’s a muzungu on a bicycle or not.

Dinner at the hotel was a bit expensive, but really good. From the
dining room I could see the snow-capped summit of Mt. Kenya to the
south. I had another hot shower and a good night sleep, feeling
grateful again for the tarmac.

Day 36: Isiolo to Nanyuki

The morning was really hard. Today’s ride was 80km, but it took me
more than 4 hours to go the first 25km. The road was a constant climb
up the northern slopes of Mt. Kenya. At this rate, it’s going to take
me 12 hours! My legs were really tired, and my motivation was slipping
away quickly.

Up a bit higher, there’s a junction that splits left to Meru, and
right to Nanyuki. I took the road to the right and it just kept
climbing. My spirits were pretty low at this point. This was my 13th
day in a row of cycling. I was planning to rest for a few days in
Nanyuki. I don’t want to fall short today and then have to cycle more
tomorrow.

After another 10km or so, the road leveled off. After that, it was
rolling hills similar to Ethiopia. Small hills that allow you to pick
up speed on the way down, and maintain it on the next upside. I was
flying. Even though the morning was slow and shitty, I had a lovely
afternoon, covering a lot of ground and watching the Mt. Kenya summit
come in and out of view.

I arrived in Nanyuki around 330pm. I went straight to a restaurant. I
had contacted a couchsurfer in town, but he actually lives 45 minutes
away by bike. I couldn’t bear to ride anymore, so I checked into a
hotel. Next door is a Dutch couple that just moved here. We started
talking and it turns out that they booked a 5-day hike up Mt. Kenya
starting on Friday. I thought about it for about half a second, and
asked to join them. They excitedly accepted and we’re all going
together. That gives me 2 full days to rest, and then 5 days on the
mountain. It’ll be nice to get off the bike after 13 days straight,
and I’m pumped about hiking up the second highest mountain in Africa!
The actual summit is a technical climb that is beyond my skill level,
so we’re trekking as high as we can without ropes. I’ve met our guides
who all seem really cool. I can’t wait! I’ll check in again after the
trek. Internet should be available from now on.

Days 22 - 27: The Rest of Southern Ethiopia

2011-02-23T22:33:00.000-08:00

Day 22: Yirga Alem to Wenago

A lot of hills, but a beautiful ride through the Southern Nations region of Ethiopia. People were a bit annoying, but no one was aggressive. Wenago is just south of Dilla, where we stopped for lunch. Wenago is not used to having western tourists. Rich and I stopped there because a Peace Corps Volunteer lives there and we stayed at her place. Another chill day, but I have to say that Wenago hasa lot of drunken assholes wandering around at 3 in the afternoon. Not the most pleasant town I’ve stayed in.

Day 23: Rest day in Wenago

Feeling a bit sick. My throat is really sore and my tonsils are swollen. This happens to me about once per year. Taking a rest day before pushing to the border.

Day 24: Wenago to Agere Maryam

Feeling a lot better this morning. Left Wenago at 8am to start climbing yet more hills, and deal with a bit of headwind. It was a hard morning of cycling. I stopped in Yirga Chefe to buy some coffee made famous by Starbuck’s. It’s apparently one of the highest quality coffees in the world. I bought a kilo for about $4 USD. God only knows what Starbuck’s charges for it.

The road is still paved, but full of potholes. I was going fast down a hill ad hit a big one. The ensuing shaking ejected the video camera I borrowed out of my handlebar basket. I looked back to see it out of its case, tumbling end over end down an asphalt slope. I thought it would surely be broken, but it works fine. Lucky break. I’m strapping everything down tighter from now on.

I made it to Agere Maryam around 4pm and went to a nice resort for one last night of comfort before North Kenya. I went to reception and they said the price was 80 birr, but 160 birr for me because I’m ferenji. Now, this is very common in Ethiopia. They charge westerners more for everything. It’s encouraged by the government, and no one seems to have any moral objections to it. I’ve dealt with t for 2 years, but I still got into an argument. I told them I’m half Ethiopian. I spoke in Amharic, pleaded my case, but they wouldn’t budge. I told tem I was going to another hotel, and they had no objections. This is the business sense that I don’t understand. They are clearly making a profit at 80 birr, but instead of lowering the price for me, they let me walk away, giving them nothing. It defies logic.

I went to a different hotel that was 40 birr. No shower, but the restaurant was pretty good. I spent the evening checking over the video camera and bike. It seems like everything is ok.

Day 25: Agere Maryam to Yabello

Today started on a really low note. First, the post office says they can’t mail ‘cash crops’, i.e. coffee, domestically. Wtf? I wanted to mail it to my friends in Addis Ababa for me to pick up later. I was swarmed with asshole kids this whole time, trying to steal things off of my bike. I rode out of town quickly. 3 grown men were standing around a bajaj (3-wheeled taxi from India) listening to terrible music on their mobile phone. As I rode by, one yelled “Ferenji Motherfucker!” at me. I was in no mood for this, so I gave him the finger, and yelled “I’m going to fuck your dead grandmother’s asshole, you piece of shit!” They then jumped in the bajaj and chased me down the hill, which was hilarious because they couldn’t catch up to me for over a mile. They passed me in their ‘power-wheels-for-big-boys’, pulled over and got out. I stopped my bike and ran straight at them, screaming like a mad man. They jumped back in their little-dick mobile and rode off. 3 of them were scared of me. All talk. Fucking losers.

The rest of the morning was a bit better. The scenery was beautiful, and I passed some 12-foot tall termite mounds on the side of the road. They seem to just rise out of the sand. I find them to be really impressive.

In the afternoon, more kids threw rocks at me. One hit me in the hand so hard, I thought it broke my finger. I jumped off the bike and returned fire. If one of these rocks hit one of the kids, it would have done some serious damage. I don’t even care at this point. They need to know that there are consequences for their actions. I called a 6-year old girl a ‘fucking bitch’. I need to get out of Ethiopia as fast as possible. Cycling here is turning me into a bad person.

I pushed hard to Yabello, and made it there around 4pm. Apparently it’s a big hub for old white tourists on their all-expense-paid, lame ass vacations to Ethiopia. They take cars from here to the Omo Valley to take photos of people, like they’re animals in a zoo. It’s a bit sickening if you really look into the Omo Valley and how tourism is changing the tribal people there.

Yabello itself is an ok town. I found a cheap hotel, but spent most of my night in the courtyard of the fancy resort watching CNN. The protests in Egypt were dominating the news.

Day 26: Yabello to Mega

Harder ride than I predicted. A lot of climbing and strong headwinds. My map showed a few small towns along the way, so I left at 630 am, skipping breakfast. By 11am, I still hadn’t found any food and was getting really hungry. Luckily one town had some pasta, so I was able to eat a big lunch.

The ride through Yabello Nature Sanctuary was beautiful. There were almost no people, and I saw lots of birds, rabbits, and a few dikdiks. The people I did see were much friendlier. I was starting to feel mre comfortable cycling again.

Mega is a really chill town. No one bothered me. I was able to just go about my business without the shouting and harassment. It was such a relief. I even got the Ethiopian price on my hotel. My girlfriend called since I actually had phone network. It was great to hear her voice. I ate a huge dinner and got a good night sleep.

Day 27: Mega to Moyale

Again in the morning, the citizens of Mega were really peaceful. They helped me find bottled water and wished me safe travels. I packed 6 liters of water, anticipating 100km of nothing until the border.

The landscape south of Mega was beautiful. I took dozens of photos. The termite mounds were more like towers. The mix between plains and desert made for a great sunrise. Ethiopia wouldn’t let me out easily though. I spent all day going up and down more hills, and battling strong winds. It was a particularly hot day also, and I just wanted it to be over.

Moyale sucks! What a shithole of a town. Nothing but prostitutes, truck drivers, and hustlers. It reminded me a lot of Metema on the Sudan border, but with a lot more bars. There were a lot of Kenyans on the Ethiopian side. They can cross the border freely. They come to Ethiopia because alcohol and prostitutes are cheaper than in Kenya. Great first impression of Kenyans.

I went to the border to see where I would have to go the following morning. A Kenyan guy there jumped all over me, offering to help me find a hotel, a restaurant, a woman, whatever I need. I told him to go away. 10 minutes later, he’s outside a hotel flagging me down. I tell him to stop following me. He says “I’m just trying to help! Hakuna Metata!” I told him not to use my love of the Lion King for his own gain. I told him he’s following me and I think he’s crazy. He actually left. I was surprised.

Another guy immediately latched on to me. I started yelling at everyone at the top of my lungs to leave me alone that I speak Amharic, and don’t need help finding a fucking hotel, when there’s 8 within sight right now. All left but one Kenyan. I’m about to lose it.

This guy turned out to be a bit helpful. All the hotels have hourly rates so Kenyan guys can fuck Ethiopian hookers. They don’t have overnight rates. I wanted a room for sleeping, and nothing else. One hotel manager and I had to create a price, since no one apparently has ever asked to spend the night before. We settled on 60 birr. The Kenyan guy, Abdi, came to dinner with me. I bought him a beer. He gave me some useful information about the North Kenya road. He also told me there was an ATM machine on the Kenya side of Moyale, which was good news for me because cash was short. We laughed about how Ethiopian men will insist on helping me, even when I don’t ask for it, and then demand money for their services. It’s a frustrating trait that guys in bigger towns seem to possess. After a few beers, the Kenya guy followed me back to my room and asked for money for more beers. I told him to fuck off. I was just starting to like him, too. I HATE border towns.

My night in the hotel was… interesting. It was disgusting. Cockroaches the size of decks of cards were running across the floor. I could hear their footsteps on the concrete. The bed was just a platform for fucking. I didn’t want to touch anything. I put my sleeping bag on the bed and slept in that, not wanting to be on the sheets or on the floor. For several hours, I was getting knocks on my door both from prostitutes offering their services, and from men asking when the room would be available. The entire economy of Moyale, Ethiopia must revolve around sex. Tomorrow, I can try out a new country.

Total distance so far, Djibouti and Ethiopia: 1,644 km (1,027 miles)

Days 16 - 21: Back to the breakdown spot, south to Awasa and beyond

2011-02-09T14:18:00.000-08:00

Day 16: Early morning problems with chain and derailleur. Stuck in
Addis on more day.

Day 17: I finally got out of Addis Ababa. I took a series of minibuses
with the bike and my bags all strapped to the rooftops out east. It’s
always a hassle arguing the prices of extra luggage. Bus drivers want
to charge me 100 birr for the bike alone. I argue that the bike is
lighter than most bags, and should therefore cost less than the 10
birr fee they charge for a bag. This goes went and forth for a while
with each bus, but I finally was on an east-bound bus with all my
gear.

I caught a bus headed to Dire Dawa. I told them I was only going to
Mieso which confused them at first because there is NO reason to go to
Mieso. It’s a small town that only exists because it’s where the
now-defunct Addis/Djibouti railroad tracks intersect the road.
Whoopedy doo! They stopped inquiring into my reasons when I paid them.
Money talks.

My actual breakdown was about 30 or 40km west of Mieso, toward Awash.
The real confusion came when seemingly in the middle of nowhere, I
asked them to stop the bus and let me out. The driver untied my gear
from the roof, standing on the spokes of the front wheel of my
side-laying bike in the process. I yelled at him, but he didn’t give a
shit. He even let out a little laugh. I was pissed. I didn’t spend 6
days fixing one wheel in Addis to have some chat-chewing, reckless
idiot fuck up my other one. I pulled out my knife and held it up to a
tire of his bus. I told him that if there was any damage to my wheel
that I was going to puncture his. That got his attention. He lowered
my bike safely to the ground, showed me the lack of damage, and got
back behind the wheel, driving off quickly. I hate public transport in
Ethiopia.

When I hitched the ride to Addis a week ago, it happened so quickly
that I never had the chance to mark the spot in any way. After the bus
left, I rode a bit and realized I hadn’t gone far enough. As happy as
I was to be off of that hellacious bus (20+ people in a bus built for
12, including one girl that was so obnoxious that I started
hallucinating about her choking on a live bird… no joke), I now needed
to hitch another ride. I thought about continuing on from where I was,
and lying about it. No one would ever know. I knew I’d be unhappy with
myself, so I went over to the road and hitched a ride in a pickup
truck.

These guys in the truck were awesome. I told them all about my bike
trip and why I needed to find a random tree on the side of the road
where the power lines cross over it. They were excited, slowing down
at every crossing of the lines, asking “Is this is?! Is this it?!” We
found the spot, I thanked them, and Low2High was back on the road.

I rode west toward Awash. Just before Awash there is a bridge that is

a ‘high security’ bridge because it’s on the only road connecting
Addis Ababa to Ethiopia’s only reliable port, in Djibouti. I was
stopped, along with all the other traffic, and made to pull over and
wait. I was told that I couldn’t bike or walk across the bridge
‘because of security’. I would have to put my bicycle in a car and
ride across. I protested this logic, stating that a car poses a much
larger threat than a bicycle to a bridge. What damage can I possibly
do? Even though I was playing ‘dumb tourist’, I kept slipping into
speaking Amharic. No one seemed to notice or care. I hitched yet
another ride, this one for less than ½ km.

So, goal shattered again. I had to revise my goal after hitching a
ride to Addis, saying at least I’ll travel every inch by human power.
Now, I have that ugly asterisk next to my claim… A human-powered
expedition from the lowest point to the highest (*except for that ½ km
in eastern Ethiopia, where I rode in a cushy SUV). Grrrr…..

After the town of Awash, I rode through the Awash National Park. The
park is vast, low-lying brush in all directions, dotted with huge
termite mounds. It’s an eerie place. The dust would kick up and block
all vision on the road from time to time. It was cool to see. The park
is famous for its wildlife, but I was in a bit of a hurry, so all I
noticed were a few baboons crossing the road in front of me. I did
enjoy the relative solitude, and coasted into Metahara around 5:30 pm.

Day 18: After repeated complaints about the loud music blaring from my
hotel restaurant until 1am, I had little luck in sleeping. I started
day 18 sluggish and cranky. As I was packing up, my stomach felt
uneasy. I ran to the toilet and vomited. It’s not going to be a good
day of cycling.

The road from Metahara to Nazret was similar to the road through the
park. More bushes and termite mounds. I was moving slow, drinking lots
of water, but not eating. My stomach was starting to be downright
painful.

As I approached Nazret, I got a bit of energy. The thought of food
seemed appealing for the first time in 24 hours. As long as it wasn’t
eggs. My vomit looked and tasted like the hard boiled eggs I had eaten
the day before, and I was in no mood for a repeat performance. I
stopped at a restaurant for some pasta and seltzer water. It settled
well, so I carried on to Mojo.

The town of Mojo is surprisingly big for being what I perceived as
just a junction town. 3 roads intersect here – the west road to Addis
Ababa, the east road to Nazret, Awash, Dire Dawa, and Harar, and the
south road to Awasa. That’s the road I’m taking! After getting through
Mojo, I felt like I was finally making progress. After weeks of simply
reversing the route I had already done by bus to Djibouti, I was now
heading south, away from Addis, and toward Kenya. Some new turf! I
found some motivation, and rode 20km south to the town of Koka, where
I got a good night sleep in a cheap, nasty hotel.

Due to the breakdown, I had hitched to Addis. While there, I took care
of my Kenya visa. I had no logistical reason to go to Addis Ababa, so
I bypassed it and headed straight toward Awasa. If I hadn’t had the
breakdown, I would have had to ride to Addis. Maybe this is cutting
corners. I’m taking a bit of a shorter route on my bike. The reality
is that the clock is ticking on my Ethiopia visa, and I didn’t feel
like I had the time to go to Addis and back for no reason. Again,
little by little, I’m drifting away from the purity of my original
plan. All I can do is be up front and honest about all these
alterations to my proposed route, so that’s what I’m doing.

Day 19: I woke up in Koka refreshed, but still a bit nauseous. I got
an early start with one big goal in mind… 180km to Awasa! Ambitious,
but I was motivated to ride through the Great Rift Valley and see some
of the lakes, plus I had a God-sent tailwind.

I rode to Meki, passing beautiful Lake Koka in the early morning sun
and got some breakfast. The most inviting-looking place from the
outside turned out to be a sega bet (meat restaurant) serving loads of
beef. It was 8am, yet full of men eating beef and drinking beer. I
ordered a half kilogram of beef, but skipped the beer. Stomach seemed
ready for a wake-and-steak, but not for alcohol.

After my weird breakfast, I pushed hard, stopping only after each 40km
benchmark for a quick rest. I left a town where I had just eaten lunch
and saw something strange in the distance. It looked like two go-carts
with long whip-antennas, complete with dorky flags on top. That has to
be white people! Only we can look so ridiculous! The two guys pulled
up to me and introduced themselves. They are from Australia,
travelling up from South Africa. We exchanged a bit of awkward
conversation, but mostly focused on the details of the roads we had
each just passed. They warned me of the south being full of difficult
people. I warned them of headwinds and busy traffic. I was curious
about their ‘bikes’. They are actually tricycles, with the single
wheel in the back. They sit low to the ground, thus the dorky flags.
They look more comfortable than my bike, but also slow and vulnerable.
I’ll stick to my Trek 820. We exchanged emails, but I’ll probably
never write. It was nice to encounter other ‘cyclists’ though, as I
had yet to see anyone bent enough to travel this country they way I
have been.

After passing Arsi Negele, I was sure I was going to make. Then, it
happened. Spokes started breaking again. Rear wheel falling apart…
again! I just kept muttering all the colorful synonyms the English
language provides us for feces, and intercourse. The wheel developed a
bad wobble, but was holding together. I switched to low gears and
nursed the wheel all the way to Awasa. I thought I was going to have a
catastrophic repeat of the last breakdown, but I just made it into
town. I went straight to a restaurant for pizza and beer. Another epic
day on the road.

Day 20: Repairs in Awasa. Rear wheel rebuilt, replacing all the spokes
with new ones. After reassembling the bike, the spring that returns
the brakes into the open position sheared in half. Luckily Rich, the
Peace Corps Volunteer in Awasa I was staying with, had extra spring
metal and was able to make me a new one. It’s always something. At
least Awasa provided some good eating for the day.

Day 21: Rich is a fellow cyclist! He’s also on his way south for a
meeting. Convenient! We rode together from Awasa to Yirga Alem. It was
only about 50km, but between my aching body and shaken confidence in
my bike, I welcomed an easy day. We took our time, riding through the
beautiful hills and up into the town. Everyone here is pretty relaxed,
and the internet is good enough to finally update my blog! Tomorrow
we’re planning another easy day to Wenago, where another Peace Corps
Volunteer lives. After that, it’s going to be a big push to Moyale so
I can cross the border before my visa expires on February 17. This
will probably be my last blog update for about 2 weeks. Northern Kenya
is vast, and internet is out of the question. Maybe Moyale will have
something, but if not, I’ll catch up with all from central Kenya!

Please donate!

2011-01-31T10:59:00.000-08:00

Low2High: Africa is a fundraiser for the New Day Children's Centre in Bahir Dar, Ethiopia. Help them buy a new compound so they can serve even more young adults in Bahir Dar!

Donate now to NDCC

Kyle

Days 7 - 14: Dire Dawa, Harar, Valley of Marvels, and Amhar Mountains

2011-01-31T10:43:00.000-08:00

Day 7: After a big breakfast and some last minute re-packing, I left Dire Dawa for the city of Harar. It’s only a 48km ride, but leaving Dire Dawa meant climbing a long, winding road up to 2,200 meters above sea level. This 20km stretch took just under 3 hours, but I was finally on pristine tarmac that made the ride a lot easier than the previous days had been.

Once up high, I turned left to head east toward Harar. On the way, I started weighing my options. I have only 21 days remaining on my (single-entry) Ethiopia visa, but I still have a valid visa for Somaliland. If I go past Harar to Jijiga, I can then cycle to the Somaliland border and on to the city of Hargeisa. The nightmare of getting a new Ethiopia visa in Djibouti City convinced me that if I went to Hargeisa, there’s a good chance I’d be stuck in Somaliland and not be able to get back to Ethiopia. My only option at that point would be to fly, which would cost too much money, especially with the bike. I also don’t know if I could get into Somaliland on a bicycle as they have strict rules for foreigners traveling outside Hargeisa – everyone must hire an armed guard from the government to follow them everywhere they go.

Visiting Somaliland, then, would most likely meaning leaving the bike behind in Ethiopia and traveling Somaliland by public transport. When I first had the idea of Low2High, I wanted to do the entire trip by ‘human power’. To me, that means ALL travel by bicycle or walking, even on days off. If I need to repair the bike, apply for a visa, go to a restaurant, etc, all travel would be by human power and never by car. I always pictured a true claim that the whole expedition was human powered, from beginning to end. Basically, no riding in cars for 3 whole months. Maybe that’s a bit extreme, but to me, that’s the purest way to do this expedition.

By nightfall I had made up my mind. I was going to skip Somaliland, but still aim to see Jijiga in the far east of Ethiopia. I got a hotel room for the night and went to sleep.

Day 8: I woke up early to start the ride to Jijiga. I left most of my gear at in Harar since I would be coming back through on my way to Addis. After about an hour, I decided that Jijiga was not that important, and I could use the extra day to get to Addis Ababa. I rode as far as the Valley of Marvels, just past Babile

The Valley of Marvels sounds much more impressive than it actually is. The rock formations are interesting, but I don’t feel they were worth the trip out there. If you happen to be going to Jijiga anyway, then stop and explore. I had to pay a guy with Chat-green teeth 20 birr to guard my bicycle, and was too paranoid about it being stolen to really enjoy the excursion.

I rode back to Harar and arrived at 2pm. I put my bicycle in the hotel room and then walked around the city. Harar is an ancient Muslim city. There’s an old wall built around it to keep the pesky Christians out. It is built like a fortress, but is now open for all to move freely in and out. The new city is all around the old walled city. Modern restaurants and hotels, banks, and businesses pepper the outside. I was more interested in the old city, so I wandered inside the wall. I first went to the Harar Coffee Factory to buy my favorite Ethiopian coffee right from the source. A whole kilo of roasted and ground coffee was only about $4.50 USD!

After that, I decided it was time to get some camel meat. I went to the camel market where raw meat is purchased from butchers. Across the courtyard from the butcher is a restaurant where you can bring your own meat, and they will cook it for you. I had a kilo of wonderful, tender, juicy camel meat with Somali spices.

Above the market, hawks perch on the rooftops waiting for any meat to be dropped. A guy whom I had met earlier that day named Ramadan showed me just how good they are at grabbing stray food. He asked the butcher for some scraps, threw them straight up into the air, and 2-dozen birds of prey swooped down in a choreographed swarm. Not a single piece of meat hit the ground, and within 5 seconds, all the birds were back on the rooftops, silently waiting for the next freebie.

After a quick rest back at the hotel, I was off to see the Hyena Man. The people of Harar have always shared the land with hyenas, so they came up with a way to live in harmony. Every night the Hyena Man, a job apparently handed down from father to son for years, would bring scraps of camel meat outside the walls of the city as an offering to the hyenas. By keeping them fed and happy, they would not enter the city to threaten people. This tradition has now turned into a big tourist attraction. The original charm may be gone as vanloads of tourists pull up with their thousand-dollar cameras and shine their headlights onto the animals, but it was still a bit of a thrill. I’m a tourist in Ethiopia myself these days, but I still feel this separation from other tourists having lived here for 2 years.

The hyenas looked threatening, but behaved like tame dogs as the Hyena Man brought out the night’s offering of camel scraps. He dangled meat in front of the large predators, and they playfully jumped through the air to grab it in their jaws. After a few more feedings to show how gentle these hyenas were, it was time for the audience to feed the hyenas. I jumped at the chance, and Hyena Man gave me a stick to hang meat from. First using my hand, one hyena calmly walked over and snatched it off the end of the stick. The Hyena Man then took the stick and put it in my mouth, meat dangling. Another hyena walked over and chomped down on the meat. As she did, she let a puff of hot breath out of her nostrils that made me jump back.

After the feeding, I had a beer with Ramadan, but then went to sleep. All night long, hyenas could be heard howling outside my hotel. Harar is definitely a city like no other.

Day 9: Heading west from Harar toward Addis Ababa means traversing the Amhar Mountains. Stretching a good portion of the range’s length is a relatively new road, paved and impressively steep at times. This is where the riding got hard, not just because of the mountains, but because of the famous rock-throwing, bike-grabbing, tourist-harassing, foul-mouthed children of Ethiopia. Other cyclists have told me the horrors of cycling through some parts of Ethiopia, but this was really my first taste of it.

I have to be clear, I have lived in Ethiopia for more than 2 years, and have a strong fondness for this country and its people. The children in the small towns on this stretch of road were so horrible that I wanted to pack it in and quit this whole trip, giving Ethiopia the finger as I fly home. I was hit with 2 rocks in the lower back that both left welts, another in the shoulder, and several dropped from a clifftop that bounced off my helmet. Children were pulling water bottles and whatever else they could find off of my bike, which was easy-pickings for them since I was so slow on the constant uphills. They yelled ‘Fuck you!’ at me in every village. One child spit in my face, and another tried to put a stick through my spokes. They all do this with big smiles on their faces like it’s a big game. I tried getting angry, chasing them, yelling, being nice, speaking in Amharic, and NOTHING worked. They were unstoppable. The parents did nothing to stop them, and often cheered them on. It was the most horrible part of the trip thus far. I was humiliated and physically harmed by a constant barrage of undisciplined little fucks for two days straight. I hated it.

I could go on about the horrible treatment, but I won’t. There is still a lot to be desired about this country I’ve called home for the last 2 years, so for the rest of the blog posts covering this section of riding, I’ll focus on the good moments.

At the end of Day 9, there was a bit of redemption. I climbed the final hill of the day into a town not on my map called Caramille. The kids were amazingly helpful. They helped me find a cheap hotel, and even offered to help push my bike up the last bit of hill. I was so happy to feel welcome again that I let the kids help me and had a nice chat as we rolled into a hotel compound. One kid in particular was so helpful that I bought him dinner at the restaurant next door.

At that same restaurant, the bartender, Seid, was very curious about my presence in this small town. He spoke near-perfect English, and told me stories about visiting Saudi Arabia to see his parents who are working there for a wealthy family. We spoke for about half an hour while I ate, and I welcomed the change of pace of sitting and chatting with someone so interesting. We exchanged emails, and I went to my hotel room. The Christian call-to-prayer sang me to sleep.

Day 10: I left Caramille at dawn. It was foggy and a bit chilly in the mountains. It was hard to imagine that I was below sea level a few days earlier, and now cycling at 2,200 meters elevation. Ethiopian mountains are impressive.

The first half of the day was more misery. Hard peddling and misbehaving kids. By lunch, I was in the lowland town of Hirna. The downhill ride into town was fast and fun, and I probably coasted for 4 or 5 minutes straight. I ate a lunch so big that I had to sit for an hour and digest before I could start cycling again. The people in town were very curious about my bike, and we all had fun looking at my map. It was hot, so I was quick to convince myself to sit in the shade and relax.

Around 1pm, I started the ride climbing out of Hirna. It was a big climb, and it took me 2 full hours. However, my legs and body felt good. I peddled the whole 2 hours non-stop. I had a lot of energy, so I took advantage of it. The afternoon was a bit more up and down, but the kids in these villages were so much nicer. They greeted with ‘Hello’ instead of swearing, and generally let me be. The day ended with a long downhill ride into Asbe Teferi where I got a hotel room. It was the last big town before leaving the Amhar Mountains, so it was a good place to stop and enjoy some better accommodations. The hotel was playing loud music until late in the night, which was irritating, but I finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

Day 11: I left Asbe Teferi very early. The sun wasn’t even up yet. I had a gradual downhill for 30km to the next town, Mieso. The downhill gave me a huge advantage, and I covered the 30km in under an hour.

Mieso offered nothing, not even a restaurant that looked worth stopping, so I continued toward Addis Ababa. I rode about 40km west of Mieso, and then had a fairly bad breakdown. My rear wheel made a sound like wood splitting, and then locked up, bringing me to a screeching halt. I was lucky not to have an accident, it was so sudden. I got off the bike, unloaded all my gear, and took a good look. Several spokes had broken on one side, and the spokes, unbalanced, bent the rim toward the other side, jamming itself against the frame. The whole wheel needed some serious care.

Ignorance and arrogance - Both got the best of me. I needed to remove the gear cassette to replace the spokes, but I didn’t have the tool to do that. I was stranded. It didn’t take long to realize I needed to get to Addis Ababa to fix the wheel. I carried my bags out frm under the tree where I was inspecting the damage to the road. The very first car that came by stopped and picked me up.

We strapped my bike to the roof and tossed my bags and me into the back of the Land Rover. The people who picked me up were four Ethiopians that work for an NGO in Bahir Dar. It was great to talk about my city again! They were very kind, and took me all the way to the front door of my American friends’ house in Addis. I unloaded my bike and all my gear, went inside, and took a shower. It was Friday afternoon, so there was little point in trying to get anything done. I took the rest of the day off.

Day 12: Rest day in Addis Ababa. Saturdays in Addis are tricky, as most important places are not open for business – ie Embassies. Also, the African Union Summit was going on, making it near impossible to get around the city. Streets were closed and armed police were turning pedestrians away from certain routes. I wrote off the day and spent time with friends.

Day 13: Sunday in Addis Ababa. Everything closed. Rest Day.

Day 14: Monday! Time to get things done. I left early to get to an ATM machine for some cash. After that, I went to the Kenya Embassy to apply for my visa. They told me they need to keep my visa until the following afternoon, which annoyed me a bit.

Later in the morning, I was at the bike shop. I was able to get my hands on the tool to remove the gear cassette from my rear wheel, and then it was a quick job of replacing the broken spokes. To prevent future mishaps, I bought the tool I need to carry with me. I also bought 20 spare spokes since I’ve already exhausted my supply.

Back at my friends’ house, I spent the afternoon truing the wheel and tuning up all the moving parts of the bike. I tightened the steering, replaced the chain, rotated the tires, and inspected the bike from end to end. After a test-ride, the bike seems good to go, and I should be back on the road on Wednesday (Kenya visa coming late Tuesday). My pride is hurt a little since I was foolish enough to not be prepared for this kind of breakdown, but I will have to the tools and parts before I leave Addis again in case this happens again. I’ll hitch a ride back to where I broke down, and Low2High will continue from there. My goal of a total ‘human-powered’ expedition has already been shattered, but I’m still going to carry on. Lesson learned.

Days 1 - 6, Lac Assal, Djibouti to Dire Dawa, Ethiopia

2011-01-23T19:10:00.000-08:00

Day 1 (January 18, 2011): After a fun, but expensive vacation in
Djibouti, it was time to start the big ride. The dive company through
which we snorkeled with the whale sharks also does a car tour to Lac
Assal. It’s apparently a fairly popular tourist attraction since it’s
the lowest point on the continent, is as salty as the Dead Sea, and
has had some of the highest recorded temperatures on the planet.
Sounds like a great place for a bike ride! We had a translator, since
none of us speak French, explain to the driver that 3 of us and a
bicycle are going to Lac Assal, but only 2 are coming back. The
interpreter laughed, asked if we were serious, and then smiled as he
repeated it all in French. It was an amusing scene, but we were all in
agreement, and we set off the next morning.

The drive from Djibouti City to Lac Assal took about 2 hours. We had
our own SUV, and the road is paved. It was my first chance to scout
out the conditions, but way too late to back out. As we kept going
further and further downhill, I started to feel like I made a mistake.

After visiting the obligatory craft vendors at every vista point on
the road down and hearing the military jets buzzing through the
clouds, we finally drove until we could go no deeper. The lake is pure
blue. There is nothing in it but saltwater. Nothing lives there
permanently. It was hot, but January is the ‘cool season’, so it was
only around 100 degree F. At the actual lake shore, we wandered
around, picked up big crystals of salt that resemble ornate
chandeliers, and took in our surroundings. We carried on to the main
shore, where vendors sell some of the same crystals we had just picked
out of the lake ourselves. The salt level is so high that anything
left in the water will be coated in salt. They were selling large
mammal skulls covered in salt. They were cool, but I doubt they are a
natural occurrence as I didn’t see any animals for miles.

We walked the shore some more, and the girls decided to go swimming.
They came back covered in salt from head to toe. I opted as my next
shower might be days away and I don’t need any issues with my skin
right off the bat. While they were swimming, I methodically assembled
my bicycle and loaded all my gear onto it. I added a 2-day supply of
water (16 liters / 4 gallons) which added a lot of weight.

I walked the bike down to the shore, shot some video, and rolled the
tires back into the gentle waves, making sure to only get the salt on
the rubber tires and not on anything metal. I stood with the souls of
my shoes in the water next to the bike, and Low2High: Africa was
officially a go!

I peddled the bike back up to our car where the girls and I parted
ways. I had been traveling for a week with Jennifer and Danielle, and
we were close through our 2 years of Peace Corps service in Ethiopia,
but this was goodbye. I don’t feel like I gave that moment proper
credence because I was so preoccupied. They took off in the truck, and
I started cycling. I was on my own.

The junction from the main highway to Lac Assal was 17 km away. I was
sure I could make it in the half day I had remaining. The climb was
constant, but gradual enough to allow me passage. However, about 30
meters above the lake, the real issue became apparent. The strongest
headwind I’ve ever encountered was blowing straight down the hill in
an unforgiving, constant gale. The breeze was hot and moist, and the
sweat was pouring down my back. Since we arranged our ride through a
tour group, the time was only semi-negotiable. As a result, there I
was peddling out of this hot hole in the earth in a 30mph wind at high
noon. Not the best planning. At around 1:30pm, after some pushing,
swearing, and messy urination, I decided it was time to find some
shade.

There are no trees. Zero. I found a rock with a slight lean that
provided just enough shade for my head and torso. It was good enough.
I stayed there until 3pm when it got a little cooler and carried on. A
few other tour groups passed me on the way up, giving me looks of
amazement mixed with ‘what an asshole!’

Up higher, the road was a bit windier. This turned the headwinds into
crosswinds strong enough to push me over. Sometimes I’d be forced to
lean over so far I’d have to jerk the handlebars to the side to
compensate. Next thing I know I’m perpendicular to the road with my
front tire sinking into the soft gravel shoulder looking over a 10
foot slope. I’d have to slam the brakes, get off, back the bike up,
and start again. It was demoralizing.

It started getting dark. Being close to the equator, there’s very
little twilight. I knew it was a full moon, an d the wind was calming,
so I thought about riding in the dark at least until the junction. I
never made it. It was too cloudy to travel by moonlight, and there
were no cars or people to be seen or heard. I pulled over short of the
17km junction, and pitched my tent behind a row of acacia trees,
hidden from the road.

I left the rainfly off of my tent. It was nice to have the breeze come
through, and I wanted to be able to see out. I fell asleep easily at
730pm.

Day 2: At about 2am, I heard a car door close, followed by men’s
voices. The men walked into the woods where I was camped, probably to
go to the bathroom. One spots my camp, and walks over, assault rifle
in hand. He looks right into my tent with a smile on his face, says
something, but all I can reply is ‘non Francais’. The man says
‘Francais!’, gives me thumbs up, and walks back toward his car.
Another man walks over, we exchange the same banter, and he too
returns. The car drives off, and the world goes silent again. I can’t
sleep at all, so at 4am, heart still racing, I pack up my camp and
start an early-morning, moonlit ride. In my haste to get going, I left
my camelback behind. I didn’t realize this for several hours, so
decided to write it off and continue.

I reach the junction point as the sun finally rises. After all that
work, I’m still only 17km from where I started. Not the motivating
start to a day. I cycled the remainder of the road around the Gulf of
Tadjoura to meet up with the main highway. Once on that road, it was
faster going. The road is pristine tarmac, and the wide shoulders gave
me a large buffer from the trucks. The volume of traffic was low, so
most drivers went around me, leaving me plenty of space. Although the
highway is modern and a joy for cycling, the terrain on all sides is a
brutal desert.

A sandpit would be a nice way to describe it. I started counting the
mummified animal carcasses in the dusty grave to my right as I went
by. In the distance, small twisters of sand would kick up, travel a
bit, and then die off. Nothing seemed alive. Again, I’m here at high
noon. For a ginger on a bicycle, it was a living hell.

I made it to the last junction where the road splits to the 2
Ethiopian border posts. To the right, all the cargo trucks carry goods
through the west on a paved highway to Addis Ababa. To the left, a
less well maintained road goes south to the shorter, but harder
crossing to Dire Dawa. That’s the route I was taking. The gradual
uphill and still present headwinds made the going tough. I could hold
a steady pace, but was hot and exhausted. I didn’t even make it to the
border. I had to stop in the last town in Djibouti, Ali-Sabien.

In town, I asked for directions. The stoned-on-Chat men were useless,
so I asked some kids. They honestly didn’t seem to know. I turned
around and headed back to get my bearings when a man pulled up next to
me in his truck and handed me a bottle of water through the window. I
thought, Hey! What a nice guy. He asked me where I was going, and I
said I was looking for the road to Ethiopia. He said he was going in
that direction, and he’d drive slowly so I could follow him. When we
got to the road, he rolled down his window again. He said it was too
late to find a hotel, so I should stay at his house. Great!

His name is Sabir. He’s an engineer from Tunisia working in Djibouti.
He doesn’t speak French or Somali, so he has only one close friend in
town. A man from Pakistan whose name I have sadly forgotten. He came
over, and the three of us had a dinner of roasted sheep, grilled
potatoes, salad, and dates from Tunisia. It was a wonderful turn of
events. I had a shower, slept in a bed, and got an early start the
next day.

Day 3: After breakfast with Sabir, I hit the road. It took only an
hour to get to the Ethiopian border. The crossing was surprisingly
easy. I was stamped out of Djibouti, and was able to exchange some
Djiboutian Francs for some Ethiopian Birr at a good rate. The surprise
came on the Ethiopia side. After a bit of hassle crossing this exact
same border on the way into Djibouti (Ethiopia didn’t want to let us
out), and the massive ordeal at the Ethiopian Embassy in Djibouti in
which we had to work with the Ambassador himself (be warned, you
CANNOT get a visa for Ethiopia in Djibouti unless you are a Djibouti
resident. They changed the rule 2 weeks before our arrival, and they
only made an exception because we had been Peace corps Volunteers in
Ethiopia), I was expecting a giant avalanche of bureaucratic bullshit.
Luckily, I got through, no problem, and was on my way.

My good mood quickly changed when the road turned to shit. The best
way to describe it hard, wavy concrete, covered in cat litter, with
occasional sharp rocks sticking out of it. And of course, it continues
to gradually go uphill. This road went on and on for 200km. More on
that later.

At the town of Ayshau, there is supposedly a junction. Town names and
road signs are all but irrelevant in this part of the world, so I went
through the town, saw no junction, and continued on. At around 4pm,
Truck drivers started waving at me to turn around. I checked my map,
figured I was on the easterly road to Dire Dawa, but I want the
westerly road since it has more towns (towns = food and water). The
easterly road put me right near the Somaliland border as it was
getting dark. One man was very helpful with my map, and then pointed
to some mountains and said ‘That’s Somalia right there!’ Not
necessarily a bad thing, but combined with the warning from drivers, I
started to get a sinking feeling. So, reluctantly, after traveling
25km past Ayshau, I turn around and went all the way back. On the
upside, I got to watch a camel caravan walk across the desert at
sunset. It was a hauntingly beautiful sight that I would have missed
otherwise. It’s hard to believe that in the year 2011, people still
carry goods across the desert on the backs of camels. It was a jump
back in time, and worth the extra riding. Back in Ayshau, I hopped
over the railroad tracks and laid out under the stars for what turned
out to be a great night sleep.

Day 4: I waited until sunup to pack my camp and get moving so I could
ask people for this westerly road. Finally, a man was able to show me.
It follows the tracks just like it should according to my map, but
it’s even worse than the road I had been on. No vehicles are taking
this road. Bus after bus came barreling down the road from the day
before so, yet again, I turn around and head away from Ayshau to
travel the same stretch for a third time.

The mistake wasn’t really a mistake. I knew where I was, I just
thought I wanted a different road. Plus, with the information I had at
the time, I feel that I made the right call. I cost me 50km of riding
on a painful road, but I had a safe night and was passing through the
questionable stretch of road in the day time along with the other
trucks. All in all I played it safe, so I was content with how it
worked out. It did, however, mean I was in for another night in the
desert.

I carried on to a town called Biye Kobe. There is only one restaurant.
I stopped there, at some Shiro and eggs and chatted with the local
police. It was odd to see 10 police officers in a town of 50 people,
so I asked them about it. They said it was a high-security area so
they were assigned there. None of them actually grew up in the town.
The server was a Somali girl named Niami. We spoke in Amharic, and she
was amazed at my journey. I showed her my ‘I am not a spy’ document,
which is a copy of my hometown newspaper where an article about me was
written. She was so impressed that she said she loved me and wanted to
marry me. I politely declined, even though she was the prettiest thing
I’d seen in days. I hopped on the bike and rode until dark. I slept
under the stars again in a drainage ditch, hidden from view from the
road.

Day 5: ‘Today is the day!’ I told myself. I had wanted to get to Dire
Dawa in 3 days. It was now day 5, and I’d had enough of this damn
desert. My American contacts were having a barbecue, and dammit I
wanted some! I rode hard. The sun was unforgiving, but the wind had
basically stopped. About 40km north of Dire Dawa I received the best
gift I could have ever wanted… tarmac! Even though it was covered in
gravel, it wasn’t rutted and full of holes like the last 100+ km had
been. My ass was grateful.

The bad news was it was a lot of climbing to get to Dire Dawa.
However, after another hard mountain pass, I saw my first glimpse of
Dire Dawa in the distance. I was so happy, I peddled non-stop to the
edge of town. I called my contacts, but they didn’t answer. I rode
straight to their house, hoping I hadn’t missed the big feast. At 4pm,
I sat down in a chair, opened a cold beer, and ate like a king. It was
good to be out of the desert.

Day 6: Rest day in Dire Dawa. A part of the bike had actually broken
on the ride. There is a threaded hole in the frame that a bolt goes
through, holding the rear pannier rack in place. The bolt had sheared
off, leaving the shaft inside the hole. I simply moved the rack to a
different pair of holes meant for the rear fender. Today, I was able
to find a machine shop open (on a Sunday!) that had a tap and dye set.
It was fixed properly in 10 minutes. I also had to patch 2 tubes that
had punctured, and of course, upload this blog and photos to the
internet.

The day of rest has been great. My body surely needed it, but I think
it’s good for the mind too. Tomorrow I’m off to Harar to feed some
hyenas and eat camel meat! It’s a big, 20km climb out of Dire Dawa,
but it’s paved all the wat to Addis Ababa, so I’m not going to
complain. I’ll update again from Addis. Until then, cheers!

2011-01-23T18:38:00.000-08:00

Add caption

"The route from Lac Assal, Djibouti to Dire Dawa, Ethiopia. The yellow
dot is where I started, and the blue dots are where I've slept each
night."

Low2High is Underway!

2011-01-19T06:26:00.000-08:00

Kyle left from Lac Assal, Djibouti (the lowest point on the African continent- 155m below sea level) on January 18 at 12:20pm on his bicycle. He is filming his expedition as he goes and will check in from Dire Dawa, Ethiopia in a few days.

Greetings From Djibouti!

2011-01-15T02:13:00.000-08:00

Made it safely to Djibouti. I'm getting the run-around from the Ethiopian Embassy here about issuing me a new visa, but after speaking to the Embassador himself, I think we'll have it sorted on Monday. A little Amharic goes a long way!

I'm still trying to sort out a ride to Lake Assal to begin the Low2High ride, but we're not finding anything for less than a few hundred USD. Hopefully I'll find something cheeper. Tomorrow is off to swim with Whale Sharks in the Gulf of Tadjoura for some well-desrved R&R.

Hopefully I can update again before I go, but if not, hopefully I hit the road Monday.

Cheers!

Kyle

Photo 1 - Cycling in Dire Dawa, Ethiopia

Photo 2 - The beach in Djibouti City

Photo 3 - Passed out in the hotel after 30+ hours of bus travel

Djibouti Visa Secured

2011-01-11T04:46:00.000-08:00

The reality of planning an expedition is a lot of forms, permissions, and paperwork. First, I need permission to enter Djibouti, which I got yesterday morning when my visa approved, stamped, and signed by the Djibouti Embassy in Addis ababa, Ethiopia. The Embassy was wasy to find, and the whole process took only a few hours. The employees speak English really well, and since I am an Ethiopian resident until tomorrow, they let me pay in Ethiopian Birr instead of US Dollars.

My multiple-entry work visa for Ethiopia will be null and void as soon as I leave the country. I'm traveling to Djibouti by bus, so as soon as I get stamped out of Ethiopia at the border, the visa is finished. I'll have to get a new single-entry tourist visa for Ethiopia at the Ethiopian Embassy in Djibouti City before I leave. After I cycle down to Addis Ababa, I'll have to get my Kenya and Uganda visas. It's a continuous process that has to be done in the right order.

The paperwork continues, not only to fully out-process from Peace Corps, but I finally verified my travel insurance policy. All volunteers get a free month of health insurance after finishing Peace Corps, so I'm extending that policy for the duration of Low2High. I opted for the more expensive policy which offers international medical evacuation services. I figured it's worth the extra money considering what the next few months of my life are going to be like.

My budget for the days I'm actually on the road is about $10 USD / day for food and lodging. I figure about 80 days of cycling, so $800 USD. It'll be relatively cheap to live once I'm actually going. In contrast to that, if I figure roughly $40 for each visa (a low estimate) x6 countries, that's $240, plus 2 additional months of health insurance for $326, and I'm at $566 USD. It's pretty incredible how quickly the other expenses add up. I haven't even factored in the cost of climbing Kilimanjaro, which will be the biggest of all. Conservative estimates are around $1,000 USD per person. It's a cash cow for Tanzania, and people will pay it. I hope that most of the money stays in the pockets of the people who guide on the mountain and work to conserve it.

I've gotten way off point here. I have my Djibouti visa! The first legal hurdle has been crossed. Fingers crossed that all the visas are this easy.

Time to study French some more.

Kyle

The Final Week

2011-01-09T05:10:00.000-08:00

Addis Ababa may be a major city, but it's still Ethiopia. I came here a few days early to take care of visas for Djibouti and Somaliland and get my bike in for a tune-up. None of these have happened. Between the holiday, being out of town to visit my family, and the fact that everything is closed on Sunday, I feel that I've accomplished nothing. I'm starting to get nervous.

Monday through Wednesday are already booked up for Peace Corps business. There's a lot of paperwork, medical tests, and a departing interview I need to do. Somehow, I need to take care of all my Low2High business on the side in the same 9-5 schedule. Fingers crossed.

If all goes well, I'm heading to Dire Dawa by bus on Thursday, and then another bus to Djibouti City on Friday. I'm traveling with 2 friends. We'll have a day to enjoy Djibouti City, and then on Sunday we have a dive booked to snorkel with whale sharks and scuba in a reef. I can't wait to see the ocean for the first time in almost 3 years. Being a fan of the mountains, I never thought I'd miss the sea, but I definitely do. Diving will be a good vacation before hitting the road.

Monday, January 17, 2011 - I'll be off to Lake Assal, the lowest point on the African continent - 155 meters below sea level, and the official start of Low2High: Africa! If I can hitch a ride, I will, but Djibouti's reputation for being very expensive means I might be cycling to the starting line. I'll do what I have to do.

For now, I'm off to enjoy some cheap and decent food in Addis Ababa. I've been stuffing myself lately. It's better than the boring diet of eggs and PBJ I was forcing myself to eat for weeks in Bahir Dar. I'll see if I can talk my friends into getting some burgers!

Kyle

Visit with my Host Family in Ambo

2011-01-08T10:57:00.000-08:00

In Peace Corps, our 3-month training is done in-country. When I first arrived in Ethiopia, I didn't go straight to Bahir Dar, but first spent 10 weeks in a medium sized town west of Addis Ababa called Ambo. I lived in a home with an Ethiopian family, eating their food, and sleeping under their roof. It was an experience like no other. I was a complete stranger to them, and I was lost in a new world where I didn't know the language or customs.

My first night, I was given a drink with dinner that scared me. My 'sister' poured it out of a pitcher into my glass. It was brown/grey, had chunks of something floating in it, and smelled like an ashtray. My first thought was, 'Oh my God! Is THIS the water you got out of the well?' I started thinking about all the lovely parasites I researched before coming out, and made myself sick with paranoia. I soldiered on, drank the drink, and alas did not get sick. In fact, I got a bit tipsy. The drink is called Tella, and is a homemade beer. The chunks were barley pieces that the strainer missed. It actually tastes a little sweet, and is now a favorite drink of mine at weddings and parties.

Getting back to the family... I was clearly lost. This family was kind enough to take me into their home and teach me suimple things like how to wash my clothes by hand, and how to catch a chicken that is still loose in the yard at dusk. Very helpful things for life in Ethiopia. Whenever we couldn't use words to communicate, we used a lot of pointing and miming, which almost always led to hysterical laughter. They had big hearts and made my training much more bearable.

The family is not traditional by any means. There's a mother and father, but they are in their 70's. All 4 of their own kids are adults, and living all over the world with their own children. 4 kids do live at the house, but they are from outside of Ambo and their families pay rent for them to stay at the house while they go to school so they don't have to commute. It's like they already had 4 adopted kids, and then they adopted me as well. One big, strange Ethiopian family.

Yesterday I went to visit the family for Orthodox Christmas. I wasn't able to catch a ride on a bus as the drivers were off for the holiday. I waited around and was lucky enough to hitch a ride in a car with a man in his 60's. He spoke incredible English. I told him I was a Peace Corps Volunteer heading to Ambo to see my Ethiopian fmaily. This just made his day! He then explained to me that in 1963, he had a Peace corps Volunteer as his 8th grade teacher in Ambo. Thjis teacher taught him English, but also encouraged him to be assertive and reach for his goals. It seems to have work as he's now happily retired, driving his own car, and bragging about how both of his daughters are doctors. Small world, and a gold star for Peace Corps' reputation.

I finally made it to the house at 4pm. Much later than I hoped, but I made it nonetheless. I was greeted with huge hugs, smiles, and enough doro wot to feed Rhode Island. I ate, talked, and had some more obligatory Tella. I went outside with the kids for an hour, and then it was time for dinner! I ate so much food that I thought I was going to rupture my internal organs. It was great!

My old room was made up for me to sleep in. The larger dog of the compound took up his old post just outside my door, guarding me from harm while I slept. I awoke at 3am to pee. I went outside and looked up to see some of the brightest stars I'd seen in months. Away from the city lights of Addis Ababa, and Bahir Dar for that matter, I was able to clearly see the Milky Way and dozens of constelations. With almost no light pollution in Africa, the stars could literally be the brightest almost anywhere in the world.

Morning came, and the feast started up right where it left off. Eggs, bread, and a local food called Noog. It's made from a yellow flower, and is burnt to a crisp. In the end, it's like a bad tasting cookie that resembles a hockey puck. I ate it, but washed down large pieces like I was swallowing aspirin. More Tella, and of course, a traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony.

We were all so happy to see one another. The trip was short since I had to get back to Addis this afternoon. However, I'm swinging back through Ethiopia after Low2High to collect some things I'm leaving behind, so I'll visit one more time.

Biological or adopted, make time for family.

Kyle

Twenty Percent

2011-01-04T03:44:00.000-08:00

I've reached more than 20% of my fundraising goal (2,500 Pounds) already, and I haven't even left yet! Thank you all that have donated and helped put me over the 500 Pounds mark! Keep them coming! All donations go to helping the New Day Children's Centre in Bahir Dar purchase a new and larger compound to serve more disadvantaged children. 100% of your donation will go to this cause, not to me, and not to any staff salaries or overhead costs.

Donate to New Day Children's Centre

Kyle

Final Days in Bahir Dar

2011-01-04T03:14:00.000-08:00

Two years. When I applied to Peace Corps in 2008, I thought it would be impossible to spend so long in Africa. It might as well be ten years. Looking back, I’m barely scratching the surface of understanding Ethiopia after two years. I could stay another two, and still not know everything there is to know about this huge country in the Horn of Africa.

Today is my last day in Bahir Dar. I’m leaving on a bus at 5am to Addis Ababa, the capital city. It’s shaping up to be a busy day, which means I’m out of opportunities to enjoy some of the wonders of the city, like a walk along the lakeside trail. I’m heading over to the New Day Children’s Centre to donate some clothes and toys, and I’m having dinner with the staff and students. It’s the last time I’ll see them before heading out on my bike. It’s the last of many sad goodbyes.

Last night, the staff of my primary HIV/AIDS project threw me a small party. We had a traditional Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony, and had some good conversations about life in Ethiopia and America. After the party, the project manager took me out to dinner. He’s a very busy man. Between his demanding work and his devout religious practices, I rarely get to just sit and talk with him. We spoke of philosophy, and non-traditional lifestyles. He really likes that I’ve decided to see East Africa by bicycle. The fact that I’m 27 and not married is shocking to some Ethiopians, but he appreciates that I’m living my life the way I want to, and not settling down just yet. We spoke of the changes we’ve seen in Ethiopia, and how there’s a slow movement toward stronger national pride that could mean huge improvements for Ethiopia in the coming decade. It was one of the most fulfilling conversations I’ve had here, and it made me feel hopeful. After my final project was botched, it was good to reconcile and end on a high note.

So, tomorrow I am off. My bicycle and gear went to Addis yesterday in a private car, so I’m taking the public bus with only one bag. I’ll stay at a friend’s house for a night, and then travel to Ambo to see my host family from training for Ethiopian Christmas (January 7). I feel that I’ve said proper goodbyes to everyone in Bahir Dar, so I’ll say my goodbyes to my friends in Addis now. I’ve also arranged to store some things at an American couple’s house long term. My MacBook and bass guitar are not coming on the bike, so I’ll leave them in Addis and pick them up after Low2High.

For so long, this trip has felt like it’s so far away, but now I’ll be at Lake Assal in less than 2 weeks! It’s here. Showtime!

Kyle

Searching for Dube, but Dube Found Me

2010-12-27T11:54:00.000-08:00

For those of you following my blog semi-regularly, I posted a story about a boy named Dube a while ago. Ethiopia is a country where kids have a horrible reputation for harassing tourists, scamming, begging, throwing rocks, and being drunk or high. These are, of course, the most extreme examples, but they sadly are often what tourists remember of the children when they visit Bahir Dar. The ‘bad kids’ can ruin an outsider’s impression of street boys, and that impression can lead to negativity.

I’m guilty of it. In the beginning, the kids were hilarious. Then the honeymoon ended, and the near-constant shouts and begging from children turned me into a slightly bitter person. After continuing to live in Bahir Dar for some months, I became more aware of the problems in Ethiopian society that cause these boys to live on the streets and behave the way they do. Plus, in the end, boys will be boys. I’m sure I yelled offensive things at people when I was young too.

We foreigners here are pretty easy targets, so we seem to get the brunt of this behavior. Other than having rocks thrown at me, I’ve become much more sympathetic and patient about the harassment.

A friend of mine described it best. 95% of all Ethiopians, young and old, are very polite and reserved. Unfortunately, the ones that are obnoxious are so loud, bold, and mean that they can ruin your whole day. It’s easy to associate the irritating behavior of one with all the others. Being here for more than 2 years, I was lucky enough to move past the bad first impressions and start to understand the larger forces at work here.

This brings us to Dube. He is one of the boys that were able to show me the other side of kids in Bahir Dar. He is very polite, honest, and humble. When placed amongst the loud boys, it would be easy for him to go completely unnoticed because of his calm demeanor. That calm demeanor, though, is exactly what makes him great.

Having no way to contact him, the times we would see each other were always by chance. Today, one of our chance meetings happened. I was leaving the post office, feeling slightly annoyed that my mother’s Christmas package hadn’t arrived yet. Walking back toward town, I heard his familiar voice calling my name from my left. He was sitting on a blue bicycle that has to be from 1970 and has only pegs for pedals. The poor condition of his ride was in contradiction with his personal appearance, though. He was looking a bit heavier, and thus healthier. New clothes had replaced the rags I remember him wearing. And as always, he was sporting his huge grin with deep dimples.

I took him to a small juice shop where we enjoyed some cold, thick, layered juices of mango, avocado, and guava. Him trying to practice his remarkable English, and me my meager Amharic, we had a bilingual conversation about school and family. He again impressed me with his photographic memory, recalling things from our friendship with vivid detail. Then we sat in awe as a bright yellow Hummer H2 with plates from Sudan drove up and down the road, drawing attention from the bajaj drivers and pedestrians. Not a common site in our small city by the lake.

The conversation eventually turned to me asking about how he thinks he will do over the next few months after I leave. I don’t take care of him in any way right now, and he does seem to be doing quite well compared to when I met him. In any case, Dube now has a mobile phone, so I’m getting him in touch with the staff at the New Day Children’s Centre to see if he can benefit from their services in any way. In a perfect world, the linkage will happen and Dube will be able to get better scores in school, eventually going on to university and fulfilling his dream of becoming a doctor. If anyone deserves a leg up in this world, it’s him. He is too bashful to ever ask for anything from me, but that too is part of his charm.

It was good to see him. I now have his phone number, so I’ll make sure to share one final technicolor juice with him before I leave for Low2High.

Me and Dube on the main road in Bahir Dar. Ethiopian crafts for sale hanging behind us.

Kyle

Back into the Training Routine

2010-12-26T11:40:00.000-08:00

I’m feeling better today. After cheating and having 2 lazy days for Christmas, I’m back into my training routine and getting motivated for the expedition again.

My exercise routine now consists of waking up at 5:45 am, and heading our running at 6am. I run toward the road to Addis Ababa, and then up and down a large hill 3 times. From the top of the hill, I get a beautiful vista of Lake Tana and can watch the city slowly wake up. The run takes about 70 minutes round trip, and is great for both cardiovascular endurance and for strengthening my leg muscles on the big hill.

In the evening, I do 60 minutes of calisthenics working my upper body and core. I use a resistance band and body weight to work my arms, shoulders, back, and abs. After that, I take the fully loaded bike out for a ride around town. I ride for 60 minutes continuously, never stopping, and if possible, constantly pedaling (not coasting down the gradual hills). All said, it’s 3 hours of training, every day. I'm lean and fit, and that's exactly what I need for Low2High.

After the morning run and evening bike ride, I drink a whey protein shake. Other than that, most of my protein comes from eggs. I eat sheep and goat meat in restaurants, but rarely cook it in my house. I weigh 175 pounds, so I try to consume 175 grams of protein throughout the day. Some days, it’s hard to pull off. I’m pretty sick of my high-protein food options lately, so I often end up eating the other local foods that are made of vegetables. Food is such a comfort, so at least if I chose a non-high-protein option, it’s because it’s a food I crave and it improves my mood.

Getting back into my routine is helping to focus my mind again. It was hard to feel homesick after speaking with my family on Christmas, but the mentally calming effect of exercising has grounded me. I’m ready to do this thing!

My days are now spent saying goodbyes, packing, and taking care of logistics. I’m exhausted. I have to do a lot of to get out of here, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since I’ve lived here for 2 years. I had a good break for Christmas, and will have a good New Years party, but with the rest of my time I’m phasing out of Peace Corps and prepping for Low2High: Africa.

Kyle

Hearing Family, Longing for Home

2010-12-25T16:17:00.000-08:00

Christmas was great. Some friends and I went out on a boat on Lake Tana and enjoyed the company of a pod of hippos. Three adults and one baby seemed to be toying with us until they got a bit close to our metal-hulled boat, forcing us to back off. We brought two boys from the New Day Children’s Centre and a young girl from Dangila. After a quick stop at Debre Mariyam monastery, we returned to dry land to cook our Christmas feast.

Beef stew, mac’n’cheese, mashed potatoes, and cornbread. What a meal! I ate until I felt sick, and then at 10pm (2pm New York time) my family called. Right on time.

While this third Christmas in Ethiopia was by-far the most festive, talking to my family as they trickled into my grandmother’s house reminded me of how much I miss home. The commotion of a party growing in size, the familiar sound of my grandmother’s laugh, and even the dirty jokes being not-so-quietly repeated all reminded me of the joy of being with family around the holidays.

A few moments later, I was off the phone and settled in for a movie with my friends. It was hard to focus on the movie as I kept thinking of home. For the first time since I seriously started preparing for Low2High, I had doubts.

I don’t doubt that I can do this. I don’t doubt that I’m prepared and will have a great time. What I am starting to doubt is my decision to stay in Africa a bit longer without a break. I have been in Ethiopia for more than 2 years already. It’s been hard being away from my old life sometimes, yet I’m staying an extra few months to do what will probably be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Before Peace Corps, I served in AmeriCorps for 2+ years in Sacramento, New Orleans, and Saint Louis. Far from my native Western New York. Sometimes, I feel like it’s time to throw in the towel and just go home.

This doesn’t mean I’m backing out. In fact, watching donations come in through http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/low2highafrica is motivating me even more, and as a result, I’m now fully committed. I can’t back out now. The people that are donating their hard-earned, recession-weakened paychecks want to see me attempt this thing, win or lose. All it means is that my family is still important to me, and being away for a few more months is going to make this even harder. When I finally make it home, I’m spending some quality time.

I have made a budget that accounts for food, shelter, water, miscellaneous, etc. during Low2High. I’m now convinced that spending a little extra money on communication will not be a luxury, but a necessity.

Kyle

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-24T14:18:00.001-08:00

For info on life in Ethiopia at Christmas time, read my guest-blog update at http://www.mikaelstrandberg.com/2010/12/24/guest-writer-33-kyle-henning/

The Hamburg Sun

2010-12-22T14:56:00.000-08:00

Article about Low2High: Africa published in my hometown paper... http://www.metrowny.com/scene/169-Journey_through_Africa_One_mans_ride_to_change.html

Catastrophic Bicycle Failure

2010-12-21T12:52:00.000-08:00

Today, I had a major failure on my bike. The pedal is tearing away from the hub at the weld. It's a nasty break, and I can't fix it. It happened while riding to work this morning, with only 2 weeks left in Bahir Dar before I go on to Addis Ababa, and then Djibouti. The bad news - I don't have time to fix it. The good news - I have 2 bikes, and my shitty, Chinese-made, Ethiopia-bought 'Phoenix Fashion' is the one that broke! The Trek 820 for Low2High is still good to go.

Big crack where it's coming apart at the seem.

Both pedals going upward. The right pedal now spins free and leans outward.

A new bike of this model in Ethiopia costs roughly $100 USD. I asked a repair shop if it could be welded, and they said no. So, to replace the whole casing would be about $30 USD. I remember back to my puke-green '94 Ford Taurus I had in college. Her name was Zola. After 200,000 miles, the transmission died and I drove it everywhere in 2nd gear, all the time. It wasn't worth repairing, so I scrapped it. I feel that this bike will have a similar fate. I was going to sell it before I left, but the brakes are shit, the tires are shit, and now the pedals are shit. It's barely a bike anymore.

I can pilfer some parts from it. The pedals themselves, the tires, spokes, chain links, brake cables, and the seat are all interchangeable with my Trek. Also, the rain fenders might fit. I haven't tried to swap them yet, but some rain protection would be nice. I'll spend tomorrow stripping the Phoenix down to it's basic parts and seeing what I can use.

This is exactly why I've had 2 bikes. This cheap bike was my daily rider. It's less likely to be stolen, and it prevents wear on the Trek. Even though this bike is busted, and I now have to take taxis for the my 2 weeks, at least it wasn't the Trek that broke. That said, I got the Trek used from another Peace Corps volunteer who had ridden it around Africa for a while. I don't know how much abuse it has taken since I didn't get it new. All I can do is take caution on rough roads, and bring spares of as many parts as I can.

Kyle

Spanish Imposition

2010-12-18T16:04:00.000-08:00

Tonight was a good night of drinking beer, cracking jokes, and drawing fake mustaches onto people's faces. I went to a dinner party with a Spanish couple, and some of our friends from Japan, Korea, and Germany all came out. It was a very international night.

We played some drinking games, and had a good laugh at the expense of each other. There was a part of the game where I had to let everyone draw on my face, and I ended up looking ridiculous. It was the kind of night I needed to decompress a bit.

Earlier today, I was able to get some spare parts for my Trek mountain bike at the local market. The shitty Chinese bikes that they sell here (I have a 'Phoenix Fashion'!) have the same size tires, so I was able to pick up 10 extra spokes for 10 birr (about 65 cents USD) each, and 2 extra tires for 120 birr (about $7 USD) each. It's good to know that my wheels are taken care of. I just need to get some new brake pads, and I'm all set with my bicycle gear.

Kyle

3o Days

2010-12-17T15:59:00.000-08:00

The Low2High: Africa expedition will official begin in 30 days on the shore of Lake Assal, Djibouti. Final preparations are being made to prepare my body and all my equipment for 3 months of cycling through east Africa.

At this point, before the expedition even starts, it's overwhelming to think about what I'm going to attempt to do. To ease my mind, I break it up into stages, and each stage into smaller goals. Trying to think about everything that needs to happen before I trek up the edge of Uhuru Peak almost makes me nauseous. This is the largest project I've ever put together, and from January 16 on, it's a solo journey. I know that once I'm on the road, I can only plan one or two days at a time or I risk mental exhaustion.

The first stage is the bicycle tour from Lake Assal, Djibouti to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. I think that Addis will be a good opportunity to take a break. It's a familiar city, I have contacts there, and I'll be able to sort out my remaining visas. The second stage is the longest, cycling from Addis Ababa to Moshi, Tanzania. From southern Ethiopia on, it will be unfamiliar turf for two solid months through four countries. Stage 3, I get off the bike and trek up Mt. Kilimanjaro.

I'm feeling good. I am in shape, and my bicycle is ready. The last remaining equipment I need is for the documentary. I have made arrangements to get a microphone and camera clamp into Ethiopia which will aid in my filmmaking. Once that gear arrives, all my equipment will be sorted.

To close out Peace Corps, I need to travel to Addis Ababa and sign some documents. I will do that next month, and while I'm there I will get my visa for Djibouti and a new Ethiopian visa. I'll be here as a tourist when I come back through, and my current work visa will no longer be valid. Ethiopia might not let me have 2 valid visas at the same time (one working, one tourist), so I might have to get my Ethiopian tourist visa in Djibouti City before I come back through. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Kyle

Learning Some New Languages

2010-12-16T11:53:00.000-08:00

If there’s one thing Peace Corps has shown me, it’s that knowing a little bit of local language can simplify things. Amharic has, and continues to kick my ass. For me, it’s been a ridiculously hard challenge to learn this language, and the lazy part of me has become dependent on the fact that most of my friends and coworkers speak English quite well.

Even though my Amharic may be sub-par by Peace Corps standards, I still know enough to get by, which seems to always impress Ethiopians. I find that showing a little language skill gives me immediate street cred. It makes Ethiopians take notice, and bonds are formed more quickly. People trust me sooner. It also helps when negotiating prices, since I can hear the side conversations people may be having about money. Even if I don’t understand, I can pretend I do, and people seem to give me more fair prices as a result.

Amharic is the national language of Ethiopia, but not everyone speaks it. There are 80 million people here, speaking 88 different languages and dialects that have evolved from centuries of isolation. So, Amharic will get me through most, but not all of Ethiopia. What other languages can I expect to encounter on Low2High: Africa? To name a few – Arabic, Afari, Somali, Oromifa, Sidaminya, Swahili, and French. There’s no way I can master any of these languages in the short time I have, but that doesn’t mean I’m just winging it.

The first country I am going to is Djibouti, so I’ve been learning a little French from podcasts I was able to download when I visited the States in June. I've had no prior experience with French, despite growing up on the Canadian border. Remember that scene in 'Canadian Bacon' where the Anti-Canadian American rebels were pulled over because the graffiti on their truck was only in English, and not duplicated in French? Classic. Didn't Michael Moore direct that movie?

I’ve also been learning a bit of Arabic over time from a woman in Bahir Dar that used to live in Harar. She is a seamstress and works next to my lovely bread lady. She started teaching me Arabic words after I taught her the lyrics to some Michael Jackson songs. No joke. Arabic will be useful in Djibouti and eastern Ethiopia. From there, I can rely on Amharic and English again until Kenya. While traveling through Ethiopia I will cram some Swahili, which will be useful in Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda, and Tanzania.

Podcasts and prasebooks until my brain turns to liquid shit. It’s not a perfect plan, but it’s a plan nonetheless.

Kyle

Rookie Filmmaker

2010-12-14T12:42:00.000-08:00

The idea of filming Low2High: Africa is exciting to me. I want to show the reality of my life on a bike in east Africa for 3 months. However, I have no clue what I’m doing.

I want the expedition to shape the film, and not the other way around. Filming will naturally alter some things as I go, and maybe I’ll make slightly different decisions as a result. Even though completing the expedition is higher priority than making the film, I’m still aiming to make a decent documentary that can be used for further fundraising for the New Day Children’s Centre and possibly open the door for me to get sponsorship for future expeditions.

This past weekend, my friend Sher gave me a crash-course in filmmaking. She will be advising me throughout Low2High on all issues related to the filming by acting as my consultant-by-email. Hopefully, if I have any questions from the road, she will be able to get me sorted.

In addition, I’m investing some of my budget in film equipment. I am borrowing two cameras, but the onboard microphones record sub-par audio. I am buying an external shotgun microphone to hopefully fix the problem. I’m also buying a clamp, so I can fix one of the cameras to anything, including the bike itself. I imagine that most of the filming will take place off the bike, while I’m walking around a town, sitting in a camp or hotel, or enjoying a vista of landscape or wildlife.

I’ve been learning the technical side of filmmaking, but I’m still trying to wrap my head around how to tell a story with a video camera. The storytelling seems abstract from where I’m sitting now, but it’s something I want to have a good grasp of before I start out. I’m open to any and all suggestions about making this film.

Kyle

Somaliland

2010-12-12T15:18:00.000-08:00

I’m doing research on the possibility of riding into Somaliland during Low2High: Africa. It’s not necessary for the route to Kilimanjaro, but I think it would be an interesting country to visit. The security situation in the capital, Hargeisa, seems to be relatively secure, but it’s hard to find information on the rest of the country.

The little information I can find seems to be polarized. One source will say that the security situation is generally safe, and Somaliland is building its tourism industry. Another will say that it’s overrun with pirates, Al Shabab, and bandits. As with all situations that prompt contrasting reports, the reality probably lies somewhere in the middle. The only semi-consistent piece of information I read is that to travel in or out of Hargeisa by land, tourists must pay for and be accompanied by an armed guard.

If it ends up being too much hassle, or seems dangerous, then I’ll skip Somaliland and travel from Djibouti to Ethiopia via Dire Dawa as planned. However, a visa for Somaliland can be easily obtained in Addis Ababa, so I can’t help but wonder if I could bike through it. The plan in my head would be go travel from Djibouti City across the border to Saylaac, Somaliland, then south and east to Hargeisa, and then northeast to Las Geel and eventually Berbera on the coast. I’d then double back on myself, and go back through Hargeisa on my way to Jijiga, Ethiopia.

The only people I can find online who have actually cycled in Somaliland are Riaan Manser during his circumnavigation of the African continent, who was denied entry by bike and had to fly into Hargeisa and then rent a bike, and Kate Leeming who bicycled through Somaliland and eventually Puntland on her bicycle tour from the westernmost to easternmost points of Africa, but she did the final leg accompanied by several armored vehicles and government officials.

The purist in me wants Low2High to be a truly solo expedition, and not rely on armed guards. Maybe that’s something I’ll need to sacrifice anyway since I can’t climb Kilimanjaro without a guide as per park regulations. However, if I suddenly become dependent on several guns-for-hire to make an unnecessary side trip, then maybe I’m being too ambitious and am losing site of what Low2High really is; a human-powered, solo expedition.

Kyle

PS - How was my use of that semicolon? I've never fully understood those damned things.

Documentary in the Works

2010-12-09T23:08:00.001-08:00

There's been talk for months of filming Low2High for a documentary to be released after I return from Kilimanjaro. I'd be filming it all myself as I travel through East Africa. Low2High will still be a solo expedition. No camera crew for Kyle! My friend, Sher, and I have been figuring out the logistics of carrying camera gear on the bicycle, capturing quality audio, keeping the batteries charged, and creating backups of all the raw footage. It's proving to be a bit elaborate, but not unreasonably difficult.

I'm still learning how to use the cameras, and how to make a watchable film. Sher is spending her weekend giving me a crash course in filmmaking. In the meantime, she went with me yesterday to the New Day Children's Centre where we interviewed the manager, Fikeru. We're also focusing on getting some footage of Bahir Dar and some new promotional photos for the Low2High blog and facebook pages.

One thing I'm keeping in mind is the large number of survival shows out there right now. While I'm taking some filmmaking pointers from Les Stroud ("Survivorman"), the last thing I want to do is imitate him or Bear Grylls ("Man Vs. Wild"). This won't be a film about survival. It'll be about life in Africa, and one man's travels through this vast continent on a bicycle. It's not going to be an instructional video on how to wring drinking water out of elephant crap or footage of me eating live insects. If I get hungry, I'll stop in a village and order some food at a restaurant. Deal with it!

The idea of filming Low2High is exciting to me. Even though I won't be able to release anything until summer 2011, I think I'll enjoy the filming process during the expedition.

Kyle

Low2High Pic of the Day

2010-12-08T12:30:00.000-08:00

Visit the Low2High facebook page to see the Pic of the Day. Some will be of me training, others of the New Day Children's Centre, and some will be complete nonsense. It's as much for my entertainment as it is for yours.

Kyle

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Low2High-Africa/164573806911236

Sense of Urgency, or Lack Thereof

2010-12-07T10:01:00.000-08:00

I am frustrated beyond words right now. My primary assignment is not with the New Day Children’s Centre, but with an NGO that shall remain nameless right now. Today was the due date for my final assignment, an international grant application. I worked on it for weeks, and it’s been ready for about 6 days now. I’ve just been waiting for my NGO to give me one document, our audit report, which needed to be attached. After weeks of trying, no one can produce this common and public document. Every manager should have a digital copy. Now, after all the work I did, the deadline has passed. The organization will not get the money, and all my work was for not. The answer I received from the staff; “You can have it tomorrow”.

The deadline was TODAY! ‘Tomorrow’ is not only a false timeframe that is synonymous for ‘whenever the fuck I get around to it’ in the Ethiopian workplace, it’s also what they’ve been telling me every day for weeks when I ask about the report. Tomorrow is now a day too late. The application is finished, but we lost because of a missing attachment.

There’s no way of knowing if we ever would have won the grant, or how competitive we even would have been. I’m disappointed that tens-of-thousands of (US) dollars could have funded projects here, but because of simple poor work ethic, we are now disqualified. Potential future income: gone.

This is one of those days where I can’t wait to hit the road, and be free of work obligations. Set my own pace. To Kilimanjaro (whenever the fuck I get there)!

Kyle

Finding Dube

2010-12-05T10:27:00.000-08:00

The street boys in Bahir Dar have a wide range of reputations, mostly negative. For many reasons, a lot of boys come from families that cannot afford to put them through school, so they works as shoe shiners, minibus doormen, or selling small items like tissue paper and lottery tickets. Others have no job at all, so they wander the streets, sometimes drunk or high on Chat. The ones who work are often so persistent in their attempts to sell things to tourists that they can be quite off-putting. The ones who drink or get high can be obnoxious, and even dangerous.

All these preconceived notions toward street boys make it hard to give them the benefit of a doubt. A little over a year ago, I met Dube. He's a smart, funny, and kind-hearted boy, who attends school in the mornings, but has to work his afternoons to help support his family. It's amazing to watch him charm the tourists with his impressive English speaking and honest approach. He never tries to scam anyone, and is upfront about just looking for honest pay for honest work, like carrying bags or guiding people to their destinations. While many of his peers are ripping people off and doing drugs, he's sticking to his morals and getting by with integrity.

Whenever I run into Dube, he's always warm, and remembers not only my name, but detailed accounts of what I've told him over these last 12 months. I honestly enjoy his company, and he's been a huge help with some small tasks, like buying souvenirs at a fair price. In exchange, I'll buy him a juice or some lunch. Never soda, never coffee. Something nutritious. I also bought him an English dictionary when he got me out of a jam.

I don't know where he lives, and he doesn't have a phone. I haven't seen him in a couple weeks, which is no reason to be alarmed, but I want to find him. Before I leave, I want to see if there's anything I can do to help him. I'm not in a position to send money after 4 years of living on a very tight budget, and sending money just creates dependency on outsiders. I want to be sure he has a plan to finish school, and doesn't end up carrying bags for tourists for the rest of his life. I have a couple weeks left, so I'm going to get him in touch with some local organizations before I go that could help him and his family. He's earned his stripes.

Sometimes the system works. Let's hope this can be one of those times.

Kyle

Live from my Mosquito Net, It's Saturday Night

2010-12-04T12:36:00.000-08:00

The mosquitoes that Bahir Dar is known for are out in full force tonight. I'm taking refuge under my mosquito net, especially since it's malaria season.

Changing of the Guard - Tonight I met with 5 new Peace Corps Volunteers that have just finished training. They are starting their 2 years of service in Ethiopia today, which is coincidentally the 2 year anniversary of my arrival in Ethiopia. It felt good to meet them, and I believe that the Peace Corps is getting stronger here, and I'm leaving Ethiopia in good hands.

I received an email today from the Hamburg Sun newspaper about doing an interview for an article about Low2High. It's the local paper from my hometown of Hamburg, NY, which is just south of Buffalo. Hopefully the interview will happen next week, and an article will be published soon after. Since Low2high is a fundraiser for the New Day Children's Centre http://ndccethiopia.org.uk in Ethiopia, I'm trying to get as much exposure as possible. The feature on www.explorersweb.com was great, but maybe a bit premature since the expedition won't start for another 5 weeks. I'm open to anybody's ideas about getting exposure and spreading the word about Low2High and NDCC.

On that note, I emailed some organizations a while back about sponsorship. I had some ideas about them donating money in exchange for ad space on my blog, or on the Low2High facebook pagehttp://www.facebook.com/pages/Low2High-Africa/164573806911236

So far, no takers on sponsorship, and I don't blame them since I'm an unknown person in the world of expeditions, and my blog gets very little exposure. However, I got an email today from one of the organizations that said they'd consider sponsorship if I could get 1,000 'likes' on the Low2High facebook page, so if you have a facebook account, do me a favor and 'like' it, and tell your friends.

Alright, I'm going to brave the mosquitoes and make some food.

Kyle

New Photos from Great Ethiopian Run

2010-12-04T02:48:00.000-08:00

My friend and fellow PC Volunteer, Sher, with me after the Great Ethiopian Run

Central Addis Ababa during the Great Ethiopian Run

Beers with Tesh

2010-12-02T14:20:00.001-08:00

I had a couple drinks with my friend Teshager tonight. He’s one of my closest friends in this country, and we had a great talk about life, romance, and, of all things, geology. He is a man that I am so grateful to have met, and will be sad when I have to leave.

It was a good, warm night in Bahir Dar of sitting on the balcony at a restaurant, drinking cold Dashen Beer, and watching the nighttime weirdos stirring to life in this small city. The bajaj drivers picking up college students on their way back to campus before the curfew locks them out, the lost and confused tourists trying to find their way to their overpriced, tacky hotels, and the usual random characters of the night were all out in full force. It was nice to feel like the last 2 years have been a great learning experience, and I now feel that I understand this place, just in time to go…

Maybe I’ll never fully understand life in Ethiopia, but being a Peace Corps Volunteer has forced me to learn the culture and (embarrassingly little) of the language. I’m glad that this has been my first experience abroad. It’s hard to ever picture myself in a white Land Rover, driving my self-entitled ass around town. Maybe it’s arrogant to think I’ll always be in touch with whatever community I live in, but right now I think that I’ve done well for myself in Bahir Dar.

As I stated before, I need to soak up what’s left of my time here and not worry about the future, and I feel that I did exactly that tonight. A couple beers, a good friend, and a good view of the city. Could I have a better night right now?

Kyle

Facebook page for Low2High: Africa

2010-12-01T14:04:00.000-08:00

Low2High: Africa is now on facebook. Check out additional photos from the New Day Children's Centre. 'Like' the page and communicate with me more easily, since blogspot is hard to access from Ethiopia.

I'm not the most tech-savvy person, so all I can say is log in to your facebook account, and search for 'Low2High: Africa', or go to http://www.facebook.com/pages/Low2High-Africa/164573806911236

Thanks for the support!

Kyle

Strain on Retlationships

2010-11-30T10:46:00.001-08:00

I’ve been off doing my thing for more than 4 years now. 2 years of AmeriCorps put me in California, Louisiana, Mississippi, Missouri, Illinois, Minnesota, Montana, and Texas for different disaster recovery and conservation projects. After that, 2 years in Ethiopia with Peace Corps. I’ve been transient, and often hard to get a hold of. I’ve been bouncing from place to place, friend to friend, job to job. I’ve visited 42 states in the last 8 years.

It’s been an amazing way to spend my mid-twenties. I’ve been meeting a lot of amazing people and have been traveling to places I never imagined. The down side? My family back in New York. I’m so out of touch with things back home, and now I have a girlfriend living in England. My life is all over the globe, and it’s hard to manage with poor internet and phone services, and very little money in my savings.

What is starting to make me nervous is communication during Low2High. For me, it’s very important that I can keep in regular contact with the people I care about. I won’t be bringing my laptop because the MacBook is a bit too heavy, fragile, and expensive for a bike tour. I can get sim cards for different countries as I go, but the phone network will be spotty. Maybe I don’t need to be nervous. Maybe it’ll work out fine, but I need to be prepared to spend some extra time and money keeping in touch with everyone. After putting up with my last 4 years of vagabonding, they deserve it.

Kyle

49 Days...

2010-11-28T11:15:00.000-08:00

'Low2High: Africa' will start in 49 days, and counting.

The plan as of now is I'll first go from Ethiopia to Djibouti by bus, with my bike on the roof. With 2 friends from Peace Corps, we are going snorkeling with the whale sharks that come into the harbor in the winter. After that, it's off to Lake Assal, the lowest point on the African continent, to start the expedition.

Right now, I'm in Bahir Dar for training and finishing some work. I still have to finish my Peace Corps contract before I can hit the road. I'm already feeling nostalgic for this place that I've called home for the last 21 months. As hard as it's been, there are many things that I will miss. I've made some close friends here, and it'll be sad to walk away from them. But, all things must end, and Peace Corps is another part of my life that I have to finish.

Truthfully, I feel a bit 'off' right now. Everything I do now is preparation for the big ride, so I feel I'm missing out on what's happening around me. I'm being very cautious not to get injured, I'm back to daily exercises, and my mind is on one track. It's hard to think about anything else except Low2High. In a way it's consuming me. Becoming an obsession. I think I need to take the time to enjoy this place for my last 6 weeks so I say some proper goodbyes and end my work on a high note.

If I keep looking to the future, I cannot enjoy the present. I'm lucky enough to live overseas, in Ethiopia of all places. I'll do what I can to not let 'what comes next' get in the way of 'what is happening now'.

Kyle

Video, photo from Great Ethiopian Run

2010-11-25T04:37:00.000-08:00

Video clip of me in the Great Ethiopian Run. I can be seen in the first 3 seconds on the left side of the frame. Not the best video, but the videographer caught me in the frame by accident and I was luckily able to obtain this copy.

Photo from the Great Ethiopian Run, January 21, 2010. A fun day in Addis Ababa that, to quote a friend, was 'more like an obstacle course than a race'. Holes in the road, rogue water bottles, and runners at all different paces made the run harder, but much more fun.

Approaching the end of Peace Corps

2010-11-24T13:53:00.000-08:00

This week has been a conference. Peace Corps will end for me in early January, so this whole week has been dedicated to preparing us volunteers for wrapping up our projects, saying our goodbyes, and transitioning back into our lives in America.

I was prepared for a bunch of lame speeches and premature, forced reflection, but was pleasantly surprised at how useful the conference has been. It does seem daunting to go from living in Ethiopia for 2 years, and then to go back to my old life, so I'm glad to have the support that Peace Corps is offering.

Even though I'll be sad to leave this place behind, I'll be excited to start my expedition and raise some money for NDCC. I don't know how I will handle the stress of the next 6 weeks. I always knew this time would come, but now it's actually here.

My training for this week has been a total wash. Other than a quick kayak trip across the lake and a bit of pool time at the conference, I haven't been exercising at all. It's been too tempting to sit and drink with my friends for the last time, and that's exactly what I've been doing. At least I'm stuffing my face with a lot of good food, so I might put some pounds back onto my skinny frame. I'll be sure to start my exercises again when I get back to Bahir Dar in a couple days.

Although there is a bit of sadness, knowing that I'm that much closer to starting the expedition is getting me excited. I'll keep you all posted on my thoughts as my time in the Peace Corps winds down.

Kyle

10K run through Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

2010-11-21T22:35:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I ran in the Great Ethiopian Run. It was the 10th anniversary, and 35,000 runners dressed in green, yellow, and red took to the streets of Addis Ababa.

It was part chaos, part competition, and part fun. What the race lacked in organization, it made up for with excitement. Ethiopia is known for it's world-class runners, so many people were thrilled to run the same course and same race that made their heroes famous.

I ran the 10K in 59 minutes, and 21 seconds. Not the best time, but the clusters of people and high altitude are my convenient excuses. It was fascinating to see the different attitudes of the participants. Some people took it VERY seriously and were frustrated every time they ran up behind a group of slow stragglers. Some people were just walking and enjoying the event for what it was. Ethiopians were singing national songs and blowing horns, turning the race into an impromptu parade.

I did try to run it as fast as I could, but I still enjoyed the festivities around me. The other runners and the spectators all seemed to be having a good time. Everyone was civil, and I didn't see any fights.

Some racers were taking shortcuts, and when they would join the crowd, people would cheer "Leiba! Leiba! (Thief! Thief!)" It was all in good fun, and I enjoyed the morning of culture and racing with my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers.

I felt good after the race, but now, the day after, my knees are a bit sore. It's to be expected since I've been cycling more and running less lately.

I'll post a photo of the race as soon as I can get a copy from my friend as I did not bring my camera.

Kyle

Great Ethiopian Run

2010-11-18T02:03:00.000-08:00

I will be running in the Great Ethiopian Run in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia this weekend. With more than 35,000 runners, the GER is one of the biggest races in the world. Since Addis Ababa is at an altitude of 2,300 meters, it's also one of the hardest.

The GER is going to have so many participants that it might be hard to spread out and actually run for the entire 10k. I've been training for the run, but the run itself seems like it will be just a fun way to spend a Sunday morning, enjoy the opportunity to run through the otherwise crowded city streets, and meet other athletes. I'll try to post pictures of the race next week.

www.ethiopianrun.org

Feature on ExWeb

2010-11-17T13:05:00.001-08:00

I'm being featured on www.explorersweb.com !!

You can follow me here on my blog, but spread the word about ExWeb, because it's a badass site!

Kyle

It's officially a fundraiser!

2010-11-17T11:53:00.000-08:00

This expedition is a fundraiser for the New Day Children's Centre in Bahir Dar, Ethiopia. All donations go directly to the organization to help them raise funds for a new compound. I have been teaching Life Skills classes to the young adults at NDCC for the last 2 years. They are some of my greatest inspiration in life.

NDCC is a registered charity working to support young people living in Bahir Dar, Ethiopia. The Centre provides everyday essentials like food, clothes and access to accommodation for its students, helping them to put and end to their life on the streets, and to finish their education in a safe environment.

Founded in 2006, NDCC has grown from caring for 12 children to supporting over 50, and now employs nine local staff. One hundred per cent of the money we raise goes straight into the project, making sure that all of our students get the care they deserve and that every donation really does make a difference.

www.ndccethiopia.org.uk

Donations at: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/charity-web/charity/finalCharityHomepage.action?charityId=1001177

Training in East Africa

2010-11-17T11:26:00.000-08:00

I've been training for months, and it's not getting any easier. The reality is that Ethiopia is a hard place for a 'ferenji' cyclist. Extreme weather changes, dangerous truck drivers, and rock-throwing children are all very real dangers here. I feel that this is a good taste of what the real expedition might throw at me. All the blogs I've read other people's tours sum it up as 'if you can survive Ethiopia as a cyclist, you can survive anything'.

I'm feeling strong, and confident. With 57 days until the expedition begins, I feel that I have the chops to do what I need to do. East Africa isn't just about getting by, it's about thriving against all odds.