Part 2 - prescript

...UNPAUSE

Well that escalated, didn't it.  

Having initially thought it would just be a few months before everything was back to normal, here I am more than two and a half years later only just about to pick things up again.  A lot happened in that time, obviously.  Rebecca and I did lots of moving around during covid.  Rebecca and I broke up, which was very sad.  I got my job back, bought a house, met lots of lovely new people and was granted a six month sabbatical to finish this trip, all of which was significantly better than a breakup.  But you’re here for stories about Maggie and the road, not details about my actual boring life, so I'll skip over that*. 

I decided to fly back to Kampala and start from Uganda, rather than Tanzania where we actually finished, because a) I never wanted to go to that part of Tanzania and only did because of Covid, b) The stuff that I left in Tanzania was a total write-off as the guy who now had it was not replying to any messages.  I wanted to start the trip from the point where everything started to unravel, which I decided was Kabale in SW Uganda.

The last few weeks before I left were absolute chaos, trying to get everything done and see as many people as possible before I went.  This involved a full strip down and rebuild of Maggie, which took ages and highlighted how rickety she had been by the end of Part 1**.  The crank that the guy in Mekele had stripped was so stuck on that I had to saw it into pieces to get it off and fit a new one.  I didn't pick up Maggie up from the shop (Needed someone to do the bar tape.  I can’t do bar tape) until the lunchtime before my flight and then still decided to adjust the front derailleur a bit.  I was still packing at 1am before a 5am alarm. 

I now have a second good luck charm, Yoshi being the first, in the form of solid gold coin which was incredibly generously given to me by ex-colleague and now-friend Graham Nunns.  I will guard it with my actual life as it is the most valuable thing anyone could pinch from me and I'll never tell where it's hidden (apart from that it's not there).

After flying out to Kampala I spent a couple of days at LTCH helping to set up some accounting stuff, and discovered that my picture from outside the clinic in Part 1 is now up on the wall, so I am a minor celebrity in the world of childhood hearing loss in Uganda.  Here I found out that nsenene (fried bush crickets, see Part 1 postscript) are now in season and remain absolutely delicious. Whilst on the wikipedia article (looking for their UK distributor) I discovered that women didn’t used to be allowed to eat them as it was feared that their children would be born with the head of a cricket. I reckon the men just wanted them all to themselves.

I was getting Ubers around town but the traffic was so bad that I kept getting notifications saying "you've been stationary for a while, is everything ok?"  My first Uber was with a delightful young lady called Henrietta in a lilac hatchback, who was new to this and needed me to do the directions for her.  She was extremely cautious and extremely happy to clear each speed bump (to be fair they are massive and to be fair she didn't always make it without smashing the undercarriage into something).  Every time she accomplished something like clearing a bump or navigating a busy junction she would whoop and exclaim that she was going to be the best Uber driver in the world.  Her enthusiasm was absolutely adorable but I’m not sure if her, lets face it, total ineptitude would have been quite as charming if she had been an overweight middle aged man.

In evenings I rebuilt Maggie and watched the world cup on the tv with an excitable Ugandan commentator whose commentry was so delayed that he might actually have been watching the 2018 world cup. Despite the bike box sustaining substantial damage Maggie had suffered only the loss of a cable end cap and a bent mudguard, which I just bent back again because it's made of metal. 

On Friday evening I walked out from the clinic to assess bus options to get to Kabale. This was a bit overwhelming as I was basically going straight from 0 to maximum Africa, with chaotic traffic (albeit navigable), cries of mzungu (albeit friendly),  begging children (albeit cute) and the constant reminder that admin here is rarely straightforward. Most of the buses went at unideal times but one company promised every hour from 7am, which definitely meant that they'd just set off when it was full. 

On my last night I went out for Ethiopian food to see if I still hated injera after six weeks there in Part 1. Was excited to see that they had kitfo (raw spiced minced beef, and as delicious as nsenene) but when it came it was COOKED and was therefore just tastily spiced minced beef. The shiro was good though. The injera was…fine.

The last morning I had a chat with Madam Sara, owner of the guesthouse that Paul from LTCH had booked for me, who hadn't realised about LTCH or the cycle. She very kindly agreed to let me stay for free which was a lovely gesture. So whenever you are in Kampala I recommend staying at the Apricot Guest House and telling them you are cycling halfway across Africa.  After packing everything up I got on Maggie and realised I had forgotten quite how heavy and unwieldy a fully loaded touring bike was. Thankfully I got to readjust by cycling through the utter chaos of Kampala on the way to the bus station, which was actually a strangely zen experience. 

I got straight on a bus with Maggie stashed in the luggage hold, which was all very slick, but then as predicted it didn’t leave for 90 minutes and was totally full and quite the squish for most of the eight hour journey time.  Every time the bus stopped we were set upon by people selling all manner of snacks and drinks through the windows, with an adventurous few venturing onto the bus and seeming unbothered if it set off. One man came on to the bus and spent 45 minutes walking up and down hawking pharmaceutical things, including medicine for joint pain which was quite appropriate given the comfort levels of the bus. I got some fruit, a roasted corn and two lots of nsenene (from the other sellers, not the pharma guy). Ugandans always seem surprised that I like them. For one of these the guy next to me cheekily asked the seller to add another 2000's worth (40p) for him. I had to go along with it for the sheer chutzpah. After dark the driver decided that “What you can’t see can’t hurt you” and started hitting the speed bumps with such vigour that everyone bounced out of their seats. 

Some random snippets trom the bus journey:

The Ugandan women's netball team is called the "She Cranes"

A tyre shop with the slogan "Rubber up and drive" 

Buses with motivational slogns of "100% Brighton: No Time" "Rich Dad" and "Respect Teachers"

A sign for "free circumcision"

A sign for Torero liquor describing it as "what strong men like"

A "bonastore"

When we set off after stopping for a wee break the conductor shouted for everyone to "check your neighbour" which was sweet.

Lots of crowned cranes (which are on the Ugandan flag)

After arriving at almost 11pm I went to my pre-booked hotel, which was helpfully at the top of a massive hill.  I’m now sat typing this out over breakfast the next morning, full of excitement and trepidation and joy. I have a view of rolling green hills topped with the remaining snippets of morning mist. A hummingbird just came to investigate my breakfast. I don’t know what to expect from the next six months but I know it will be amazing. Here we go, again.

*Especially the juicy breakup details, which I’m saving for my book "How to get over a lost love by cycling across a continent" 

**Throughout the blog I’m going to refer to the 2019-20 trip as Part 1 and the 2022-23 trip as Part 2