Warning: many of the
commentaries and opinions that you will be about to read might sound
very harsh, but I promise they are the most accurate account of the
frequently miserable experience that is crossing Ethiopia by bicycle.
Given the radical difference that exists between those of us who travel
by bicycle across this country (and those who walk the world too) and
those who travel by any kind of motorised transport, I don't feel
particularly well predisposed to accept any objections coming from those
who haven't crossed it in the same way.
Translation courtesy of Pato Stickar
The departure from Addis was the starting point of our long scape from Ethiopia. We had already spent a month and a half in the middle of the country, and our general state of mind and predisposition was exponentially decreasing each extra day we spent there. Leaving Addis was unusually calm, we passed pretty much unnoticed and barely bothered by anyone. So much that, at the end of the second day, a fresh optimistic air filled our lungs; the worst seemed to had been left behind and the last days seemed as though they were going to be good. We were on our way to the remote and inhospitable lands of the tribal countries and one of the most enigmatic crossing borders of the continent, but to get there, we would discover that the worst hadn’t yet even happened.
We are on the queue to buy the
tickets for the boat to Wadi Halfa, it's 46 C in the shade. While we
wait, two nice Egyptian tour agents get on the queue behind us and
exclaim effusively the usual: “Welcome to Alaska!” to engage in a
conversation with us. The ask they usual things about the trip, the
bicycle, the distances and I mention to him that during the last days
before Aswan the heat began to be an issue. One of them bursts out in
laughter and very tenderly asks me: “Do you really think that today
is hot?....wait until you reach Sudan, there it will be hot, this is
nothing” - and he takes a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his
forehead while I can feel my stomach shrinking.
Only when you reach the Nile after having
spent weeks in the desert is when you are finally able to understand its
historic and present day relevance. It is very easy to see that without it, the
Egyptian civilization would've probably never had the opportunity to exist (at
least not in such grandeur) and Egypt itself wouldn't be what it is today
either. The Nile is responsible for the existence of a long strip of fertility
right in the middle of the desert, that extends for thousands of kilometers and
around which most of life in Egypt revolves. It is by no coincidence then that
most of the population of the country settle within a reasonable distance to
its shores. As a result of it, this is where we encountered the traffic and the
noise again but also the life that it is only possible thanks to it.
In terms of physical rigor, the entire journey to Erdenet had passed almost unnoticed. Having just passed 10,000 km and 6 months in the tropics cycling steep slopes every single day, the gentle ups and downs of the steppe felt like a simple stroll that we welcomed with great joy. The story, however, would change in the road to the lake Hövsgöl.
