Ok this will be the last post from me for a while, as Tarka’s daily adventures with Herbert are far more exciting than my DVD fest on the sofa as I rest and recuperate, but I thought I would just sum up my month in Africa.

In refection, looking back at the posts we have written over the last month, I think we were maybe holding back, writing only the positive elements of our journey in a bid to not come across as if we were moaning! We are after all doing these things by choice and are very fortunate to be able to do so.

So I will now elaborate slightly. In addition to the incredible beauty of the countries we past through and the friendliness and warmth of the people who befriended us, there was also a relentless hassle for money. This is partially to be expected and completely understandable. However from the moment we woke until the moment we went to sleep there would not be a single minute when the asking for money would ease. Which really takes away any enjoyment we would get out of each day. What irritated me most however, and where I had real sense of humour failure, was the ‘forced service’! Day in day out when we were doing menial daily tasks, such as pumping up Flashdance’s tyres, a local would come along and snatch the pump from my hand and would refuse to give it back despite me telling them that I was more than capable of pumping up my own tyre (even when I tried to forcefully take it back, I failed). He would pump up the tyre on our behalf and then demand payment! The first few times you pay, as many of the locals had very little income and at least they were trying to do something for their money, as apposed to just out rightly asking for handouts! However, I reached the point where I could not stand people taking or even touching my things without permission and trying to keep your cool was just exhausting! Even when we finally reached a place to stay at the end of a long day and we longed to shut the door for the first tiny bit of piece and quiet since 5am, we first had to pay off those stood in the doorway! …. as we experienced that they will stand there pleading far longer than my patience for need of sleep can last!!!

Despite my 5 previous visits to the continent, the above is something that I had never properly experienced, hence the ‘Tourist Bubble’! Mt first two visits were to South Africa, which although still has its problems, is a long way ahead of the rest of the continent and for that reason gives you a very different African encounter. I then in 2005, spent 4 months overlanding through Eastern and Southern Africa and it was an absolutely amazing experience. At the time I felt I was really ‘roughing it’ and experiencing the ‘real’ Africa, as my journey was a far cry from the luxury safari lodges and exquisite candlelight meals looking over a bustling water hole that we are tempted with on TV. It is only now that I realize how the overland truck only ever opened its doors when we arrived at a place designed to suite our needs as a tourist! Each campsite had a toilet block, shower block, bar, and western style food, and a large perimeter fence keeping real Africa at a distance!

For anyone who has not travelled to Africa and would like to in an enjoyable way as a holiday, then the ‘Tourist Bubble’ is there to provide you with such an experience. For outside the ‘bubble’ it is incredibly clear that “A foreign country is not designed to make YOU feel comfortable, it’s designed to make it’s own people feel comfortable!”

Despite the hassles and the dangers that cycling across Africa can present, I am gutted to be back home and would love to be back on the road with Tarka. Even on those days when you are pulling your hair out because you can’t communicate or people are trying to steal your possessions, it is when we are together, away on and adventure, that we feel most content with life!

Don’t you just love a cycling tan!!!

The past 3 days have been a whirl wind and unfortunately I have had to return to England. On Thursday I received a phone call, informing me that some routine tests I had taken previous to our departure, had come back with sever problems and that I must return to be operated on immediately. So within 24 hours I was on a plane home and on Tuesday I will be going into hospital. The biggest problem is that I will have to then rest for 4 weeks!!! This will prevent me returning to Africa and continuing with the journey. Therefore, ‘Flashdance’ is currently being donated to a worthy cause and Tarka and ‘Herbert’ are going on Alone. Tarka will in fact cover the distance much quicker without me and is hoping to make it home for Christmas as apposed to in the New Year.

I have been assured I don’t smell as bad as I did after China , but still im offer to shower and wash clothes etc, so will write more when im not quite so tiered and dirty.

From Shashameme we detoured from our cycle journey and headed East to visit the magnificent Bale Mountains, home to the Ethiopian Wolf! We have been repeatedly advised that we will not be able to cycle this route on our particular model of bicycles, and thank goodness we actually listened and took the coach as the 158km journey took us over 9 hours. We had expected the journey to take 3 hours and so we came poorly prepared with food and drink for the journey, and having not bought a seat on the bus the day before (we were not aware we need to at this point) we were left seating next to the driver on cushions. It was a pretty unpleasant journey! The only saving grace was the scenery we passed along the way, probably some of the most stunning scenery I have seen any where in the world.  We arrived in Goba at 3.30pm and we set about trying to find a way of getting to the top to visit the Sinatta plateau. There was a dirt road running up to the plateau (the highest road in Africa I believe, as the plateau sits at 4300 meters) however, it was void of traffic. By 5 the sun was beginning to set and we were finally blessed with a lift to the top in the form of a gravel truck. We climbed on board and made our selves comfortable on the bags of grit and put on our jackets, as the air temperature was going to get pretty nippy as we rose up the mountain, and sat back to enjoy the view. Within 500 meters of setting off the truck stopped and 50 or more locals piled on with all their bags, tinned sardines had more room! Half way up the mountain as dusk drew on, Tarka asked the only passenger who new a few words of English (he was a zoologist in the region) why some of the passengers on the truck carried riffles. He said 2 reasons, the first is that there are bandits up on the plateau which kill people! Filled us with confidence for our nights bush camping! Secondly, to protect themselves from Tigers! I assume he meant lions but still I was skeptical that there were lions, the Bale mountains were Ethiopia’s trekking region so surely there were no large carnivores roaming around. A few minutes later in the last of the light we drove straight passed two lioness out for their evening prowl! We were excited, shocked and slightly apprehensive about tonights camping and tomorrows hike!

When we finally reached the top of the plateau at about 8pm, the truck dropped us off and suggested we walked 10 minutes (with the light of our one head torch) west and we should find a hut with two mountain rangers inside with guns. He implied that if we made camp there then they could protect us if we need it. It was below freezing and so we took off at a run in a bid to make it in 5 minutes until we could get into our sleeping bags and by the same token half our chance of being attacked by lions! Although somewhat surprised to see us merge out of the night, the rangers greeted us with a grunt and wave and went back to their fire as we set up camp. Despite being below freezing it was the best nights sleep we both have had since we left home, maybe we are better suited to the cold regions after all!

We rose early in a bid to see all the wolves outside our tent at first light, but instead we just got thick mist! A little annoyed we set off walking to keep warm. We walked for 4 hours before we saw are one and only Ethiopian Wolf. Despite its grand title, if you picture in your mind an image of the good old British fox, then you have got it in one!! We walked 30 km in all to get back down the mountain to Goba and now 3 days on I am still in pain from the walk…

The return journey by bus is hard to put into words. We bought the last two tickets available the day before travel, and arrived  at the bus station  as requested for 4am to prepare for a 5am departure. When we got there we were by no means the first and the gates were locked! By 5am the gates to the station were still locked and the number of people gathering at the gate had reached a few hundred. When someone finally arrived with a key the place became mayhem. Men, women, children and the elderly made a surge for the bus with such violence you would have thought they where racing to win a 1 million dollar bill!! we were quick enough to make it onto the bus but no where near quick enough to make a seat. There must have been 100 or so of us on this one particular bus, but only 60 seats and brawls were going on left right and center. No one on the bus spoke a word of English, but one boy did indicate I could have his seat for money. I bellowed back that “I booked and paid for my seat yesterday and that I was not getting off this bus until I was given a seat”, the boy just carried on his business. I then started with the bus workers, who not only didn’t understand my rage but just flatly ignored me!We were being shoved kicked and elbowed from all sides. I stood in protest refusing to budge an inch until I got my seat! After a further 30 mins of ciaos the boy again offered his seat for 5 Birr (25pence …ish). It was only when we had sat down and watch the madness going on around us that I realized that all the young lads who had got to the bus first had no intention of ever leaving the bus station, they where just earning a few extra pennies selling a seat to some one who had ALREADY bought and booked a seat!!!

The journey back was longer, hotter and generally more miserable than the outward journey and when we finally were reunited with our bicycles (Herbert and Flashdance), it was blissful. The open road, space, fresh air and the peace and quite. I will not be swapping my bike for a bus again in a hurry…even for a detour!!!