Day 153
Sleeping location: Crappy guesthouse, Karakore, Ethiopia
Distance (km today/total): 94 / 11158
Estimated climb (m today/total): 700 / 80500
Number of the day: 11111
Distance (km today/total): 94 / 11158
Estimated climb (m today/total): 700 / 80500
Number of the day: 11111
Day in three words: Ethiopia eases up
I didn’t set an alarm and so slept until 9.20am, almost 11hrs of sleep which I had clearly needed. Rebecca had been up since 7 but let me lie and then went to watch the Arsenal game in the restaurant. The hotel breakfast was notable for the provision of actual butter, which was like manna from heaven. I miss butter. After all the butter and some other faff we didn’t get away until 11.30am, but it was ok as we enjoyed easy cycling for the first time in ages. We started off with a gradual descent down the side of a massive wide valley, then went along the edge of it for ages. This meant everything was essentially flat or downhill, which made for a pleasant ride. The views of the valley were great and at one point there was a huge waterfall on our left, sadly not in full flow as it’s the dry season now. Despite the flat roads I saw another three capsized trucks, including one that had contained a cargo of beer. Do Ethiopian trucks all have some kind of coordination disease? At least the beer one could claim it was drunk.
On this section I reached the magical km mark of 11111, which I like because numbers are fun. I also got a pretty butterfly trapped against my mirror, pushed in by the wind; as soon as I slowed down he was able to free himself and fly away. The valley turned to a marsh in the far corner, and shortly after we got to the end of it and had to climb out, then bounce over three small valleys higher up. There was a fair bit of climbing but it was gradual and not too tough. In the last valley a railway was being constructed; later research showed that the crazy Ethiopians are building a few railway lines here in this outrageous terrain. You have to admire their enthusiasm.
On one of the climbs was a bit of nastiness with some kids, or rather one kid. I cycled past a group and said hello, and noticed that one angry looking kid was holding a big stone. The group did the usual shouting of money and running along with me, but when one started grabbing at something on the bike I turned round and gave the Look, which made them all stop. In my mirror I could immediately see the angry kid shaping to throw his stone, so I stopped and looked back at the group which was now 10m down the hill. I started saying and motioning to angry kid to throw the stone at me, and he kept pretending to but didn’t actually dare whilst I was watching. I figured he would throw when I turned around, which meant I couldn’t leave, so we had a bit of a standoff. Thankfully a woman heard the commotion and came out to scold the children, and I took the opportunity to flee (uphill, slowly).
We ended up in the village of Karakore which had limited accommodation options, so we stayed in a crappy guesthouse run by a horrible woman who wouldn’t let us take the bikes up to the (dusty wooden) rooms, then asked for 200 for a room despite having said 100 to Rebecca, because there were now two of us. To spite her we took two rooms for our 200. Karakore’s dining options were also limited and we ended up having to take away some rubbish injera and tibs (bits of sheep) in a carrier bag. My bed was made of creaks and had pillows made of dough and rocks, and there were mosquitoes (in the room) and a mosque (right outside the room) to make noises throughout the night, so I was not optimistic about sleep.
I didn’t set an alarm and so slept until 9.20am, almost 11hrs of sleep which I had clearly needed. Rebecca had been up since 7 but let me lie and then went to watch the Arsenal game in the restaurant. The hotel breakfast was notable for the provision of actual butter, which was like manna from heaven. I miss butter. After all the butter and some other faff we didn’t get away until 11.30am, but it was ok as we enjoyed easy cycling for the first time in ages. We started off with a gradual descent down the side of a massive wide valley, then went along the edge of it for ages. This meant everything was essentially flat or downhill, which made for a pleasant ride. The views of the valley were great and at one point there was a huge waterfall on our left, sadly not in full flow as it’s the dry season now. Despite the flat roads I saw another three capsized trucks, including one that had contained a cargo of beer. Do Ethiopian trucks all have some kind of coordination disease? At least the beer one could claim it was drunk.
On this section I reached the magical km mark of 11111, which I like because numbers are fun. I also got a pretty butterfly trapped against my mirror, pushed in by the wind; as soon as I slowed down he was able to free himself and fly away. The valley turned to a marsh in the far corner, and shortly after we got to the end of it and had to climb out, then bounce over three small valleys higher up. There was a fair bit of climbing but it was gradual and not too tough. In the last valley a railway was being constructed; later research showed that the crazy Ethiopians are building a few railway lines here in this outrageous terrain. You have to admire their enthusiasm.
On one of the climbs was a bit of nastiness with some kids, or rather one kid. I cycled past a group and said hello, and noticed that one angry looking kid was holding a big stone. The group did the usual shouting of money and running along with me, but when one started grabbing at something on the bike I turned round and gave the Look, which made them all stop. In my mirror I could immediately see the angry kid shaping to throw his stone, so I stopped and looked back at the group which was now 10m down the hill. I started saying and motioning to angry kid to throw the stone at me, and he kept pretending to but didn’t actually dare whilst I was watching. I figured he would throw when I turned around, which meant I couldn’t leave, so we had a bit of a standoff. Thankfully a woman heard the commotion and came out to scold the children, and I took the opportunity to flee (uphill, slowly).
We ended up in the village of Karakore which had limited accommodation options, so we stayed in a crappy guesthouse run by a horrible woman who wouldn’t let us take the bikes up to the (dusty wooden) rooms, then asked for 200 for a room despite having said 100 to Rebecca, because there were now two of us. To spite her we took two rooms for our 200. Karakore’s dining options were also limited and we ended up having to take away some rubbish injera and tibs (bits of sheep) in a carrier bag. My bed was made of creaks and had pillows made of dough and rocks, and there were mosquitoes (in the room) and a mosque (right outside the room) to make noises throughout the night, so I was not optimistic about sleep.
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