Day 144
Sleeping location: Asheton Hotel, Lalibela, Ethiopia
Distance (km today/total): 42 / 10780
Estimated climb (m today/total): 500 / 74700
Descent spoiled by being on dirt: 90%
Distance (km today/total): 42 / 10780
Estimated climb (m today/total): 500 / 74700
Descent spoiled by being on dirt: 90%
Day in three words: A Christmas miracle
‘Twas two nights before Christmas
And in the mud house
Something was nibbling -
A cheeky wee mouse
It was Christmas Eve and we really wanted to get to Lalibela, 80km away, by the end of the day, so we set the alarm for 6am and got away for 7am. On going to make coffee I realised that something had nibbled a hole in one of the squeezy bottles I use to store olive oil, the little rascal. By the time we left the village was up and they helped us with the bikes before saying goodbye. They were so nice to us and their beautiful little mountaintop village will live long in our memories. We still had 2km of the climb left, and launched straight into a concerted steep section to get there. I had to do a few bits of pushing but it wasn’t too bad an end to things. At the top I stopped and waited for Rebecca, during which time I was passed by loads of people and livestock, all going the same way as us, and all of whom were desperate to tell me that Rebecca was behind me (where else would she be?). Whilst waiting I had a wonderful revelation. Half of the 80km to Lalibela was an out and back, meaning we could get a lift on this section and not break the continuous route from the UK to Cape Town. This took a lot of the pressure off, as based on the roads so far it was going to be a huge ask to do 80km in a day.
When Rebecca arrived I told her the good news, and she told me the funny news that a bunch of kids had stolen our rubbish bag off her bike, complete with such delights as used toilet tissue and spat toothpaste, and hopefully rifled through it with a mounting sense of disappointment/disgust, the little shits*. We set off again on an an amazing track cut into the side of a steep slope, weaving along the mountainside at 3500m. To the right the land fell away for maybe 2000m back to the valley floor. It was stunning. The track was teeming with people and livestock, again all going the same way as us, and we had to weave our way through with lots of bell ringing and “scuse me”s. At a col the road crossed over a small summit to the other side of the mountain, and we said goodbye to the views of the last day and a half and hello to new views of more distant valleys and peaks.
Round a corner came the surprising sight of a proper town, nestled at the top of a long valley at 3500m. We could see the main square from the road and it was absolutely rammed with people; it must have been market day, which would explain the traffic on the track. In town we picked up some biscuits and a cold drink and attracted the usual crowd. It was about 10am and still pretty cold, but the sun was very strong. It must be a tough place to live. From the town we had a long descent down the side of a huge deep valley. The views to the left were amazing, and there were lots of trees and nice cool air, but the whole thing was kind of spoiled by the continually crap dirt surface, which never allowed you to get any speed up and shook you to death if you went much above 20kph. Then we switched across the top of a ridge to head down a different deep river valley, with the views now amazing on the other side and the road still awful. At the town of Muja we hit asphalt, but this was just a cruel trick as it ran as soon as we left town (which was quickly because the people were dead annoying). This next section, down the side of another deep river valley, would have been amazing if the road was paved, but it wasn't, so it wasn’t.
The bottom of this valley joined with another couple at a river with a pretty big bridge; around here was the out and back point. We were now in a huge valley between two sets of vast mountains on either side. It was incredibly beautiful, even for Ethiopia. In the town of Kulmesk we stopped for lunch and to figure out how we might score a lift up the road. The town was much less annoying than Muja but had loads of kids asking for pens WHO ALREADY HAD PENS. I don’t even carry a pen so maybe I should have been asking them. One toddler just kept shouting “pen” at me even though he clearly wasn’t even old enough to write. In the next cafe over was a man with good English who offered to help us with our lift quandary and made some calls. Whilst we waited I entertained myself by showing off to the Pen kids how much better than them I was at hopping up the cafe’s steps.
Despite his presumably enviable contact list, the lift the man eventually found us was from the police pickup truck parked outside the cafe. They said they’d do it for 1000 birr but were quickly knocked down to 500 by our Egypt-hardened negotiation skills. The bikes were de-luggaged, hoisted into the back of the pickup and vigorously roped down. There was no space in the cabin so we had to sit in the back with the bikes, which was wonderfully comfortable, especially when three bags of wheat were added to the mix. It quickly became clear that the 35km to Lalibela was more of the same bumpy dirt rollercoaster and we would never have made it before dark, so the friendly/enterprising policemen definitely saved Christmas for us. The views along the way were amazing, endless rugged peaks and plateaus that suddenly dropped away to the valley floor hundreds of metres below. Despite the terrible road surface I’m looking forward to riding back this way and getting a proper look at it all.
The police dropped us at a hotel we’d earmarked and we got a decent price on a nicer room than our usual standard - it was Christmas after all**. Rebecca revealed that she’d bought some fairy lights in Mekele and scavenged some “mistletoe” from the roadside, and after she’d put them up it was like we’d brought a little piece of Christmas to Lalibela. We were both knackered from the exertions of the dirt road, so we had dinner at a place next to the hotel and were in bed by 9pm watching the Christmas Eve movie (Django Unchained). The last few days were very tough but very beautiful and memorable.
Christmas time (although I’m writing this on the 27th, and you’re presumably reading it after that) seems like a good opportunity to remind everyone of the great cause I’m riding for, Let the Children Hear. The fundraising is going well but there’s still a long way to go to. The donation page can be found here. A big thank you to everyone who has donated already. And finally, I’d like to wish a very Merry (retrospective) Christmas and a happy New Year to everyone reading this. Make sure you appreciate all those delicious Christmas things that I can’t buy here and really want***.
‘Twas two nights before Christmas
And in the mud house
Something was nibbling -
A cheeky wee mouse
It was Christmas Eve and we really wanted to get to Lalibela, 80km away, by the end of the day, so we set the alarm for 6am and got away for 7am. On going to make coffee I realised that something had nibbled a hole in one of the squeezy bottles I use to store olive oil, the little rascal. By the time we left the village was up and they helped us with the bikes before saying goodbye. They were so nice to us and their beautiful little mountaintop village will live long in our memories. We still had 2km of the climb left, and launched straight into a concerted steep section to get there. I had to do a few bits of pushing but it wasn’t too bad an end to things. At the top I stopped and waited for Rebecca, during which time I was passed by loads of people and livestock, all going the same way as us, and all of whom were desperate to tell me that Rebecca was behind me (where else would she be?). Whilst waiting I had a wonderful revelation. Half of the 80km to Lalibela was an out and back, meaning we could get a lift on this section and not break the continuous route from the UK to Cape Town. This took a lot of the pressure off, as based on the roads so far it was going to be a huge ask to do 80km in a day.
When Rebecca arrived I told her the good news, and she told me the funny news that a bunch of kids had stolen our rubbish bag off her bike, complete with such delights as used toilet tissue and spat toothpaste, and hopefully rifled through it with a mounting sense of disappointment/disgust, the little shits*. We set off again on an an amazing track cut into the side of a steep slope, weaving along the mountainside at 3500m. To the right the land fell away for maybe 2000m back to the valley floor. It was stunning. The track was teeming with people and livestock, again all going the same way as us, and we had to weave our way through with lots of bell ringing and “scuse me”s. At a col the road crossed over a small summit to the other side of the mountain, and we said goodbye to the views of the last day and a half and hello to new views of more distant valleys and peaks.
Round a corner came the surprising sight of a proper town, nestled at the top of a long valley at 3500m. We could see the main square from the road and it was absolutely rammed with people; it must have been market day, which would explain the traffic on the track. In town we picked up some biscuits and a cold drink and attracted the usual crowd. It was about 10am and still pretty cold, but the sun was very strong. It must be a tough place to live. From the town we had a long descent down the side of a huge deep valley. The views to the left were amazing, and there were lots of trees and nice cool air, but the whole thing was kind of spoiled by the continually crap dirt surface, which never allowed you to get any speed up and shook you to death if you went much above 20kph. Then we switched across the top of a ridge to head down a different deep river valley, with the views now amazing on the other side and the road still awful. At the town of Muja we hit asphalt, but this was just a cruel trick as it ran as soon as we left town (which was quickly because the people were dead annoying). This next section, down the side of another deep river valley, would have been amazing if the road was paved, but it wasn't, so it wasn’t.
The bottom of this valley joined with another couple at a river with a pretty big bridge; around here was the out and back point. We were now in a huge valley between two sets of vast mountains on either side. It was incredibly beautiful, even for Ethiopia. In the town of Kulmesk we stopped for lunch and to figure out how we might score a lift up the road. The town was much less annoying than Muja but had loads of kids asking for pens WHO ALREADY HAD PENS. I don’t even carry a pen so maybe I should have been asking them. One toddler just kept shouting “pen” at me even though he clearly wasn’t even old enough to write. In the next cafe over was a man with good English who offered to help us with our lift quandary and made some calls. Whilst we waited I entertained myself by showing off to the Pen kids how much better than them I was at hopping up the cafe’s steps.
Despite his presumably enviable contact list, the lift the man eventually found us was from the police pickup truck parked outside the cafe. They said they’d do it for 1000 birr but were quickly knocked down to 500 by our Egypt-hardened negotiation skills. The bikes were de-luggaged, hoisted into the back of the pickup and vigorously roped down. There was no space in the cabin so we had to sit in the back with the bikes, which was wonderfully comfortable, especially when three bags of wheat were added to the mix. It quickly became clear that the 35km to Lalibela was more of the same bumpy dirt rollercoaster and we would never have made it before dark, so the friendly/enterprising policemen definitely saved Christmas for us. The views along the way were amazing, endless rugged peaks and plateaus that suddenly dropped away to the valley floor hundreds of metres below. Despite the terrible road surface I’m looking forward to riding back this way and getting a proper look at it all.
The police dropped us at a hotel we’d earmarked and we got a decent price on a nicer room than our usual standard - it was Christmas after all**. Rebecca revealed that she’d bought some fairy lights in Mekele and scavenged some “mistletoe” from the roadside, and after she’d put them up it was like we’d brought a little piece of Christmas to Lalibela. We were both knackered from the exertions of the dirt road, so we had dinner at a place next to the hotel and were in bed by 9pm watching the Christmas Eve movie (Django Unchained). The last few days were very tough but very beautiful and memorable.
Christmas time (although I’m writing this on the 27th, and you’re presumably reading it after that) seems like a good opportunity to remind everyone of the great cause I’m riding for, Let the Children Hear. The fundraising is going well but there’s still a long way to go to. The donation page can be found here. A big thank you to everyone who has donated already. And finally, I’d like to wish a very Merry (retrospective) Christmas and a happy New Year to everyone reading this. Make sure you appreciate all those delicious Christmas things that I can’t buy here and really want***.
*Although sadly it later turned out that they, or some other kids, had also nicked the mug I got her for her birthday and our poo trowel from my bike.
**Though it subsequently turned out that the price didn’t include breakfast and the hot water didn’t work. What could be more festive than a cold shower?
***Cheese, decent beer, smoked salmon, croissants, champagne, Christmas pudding with brandy cream...
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