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18th November 2006

Location: Addis Ababa, Ethiopia
Distance Travelled: 12 300 km

One hundred and thirty four days since solid Aotearoa. In hours that’s alot. In months only four and a half. All that time and we’ve finally reached one of the northernmost countries of Africa and we’ve now passed the Sahara Desert. It’s a goal in itself.

From Addis Ababa, Ethiopia we rolled west towards the Sudan, through the rolling hills and canyons of rivers tributary to the Blue Nile, past the crowds and neatly planted crops. To Lake Tana, the source of the Blue Nile, where it held our attention briefly with a small boat cruise to a few isolated island mosques of tranquil beauty. The trip was highlighted by fifty or so endurance workers paddling their firewood in the "wood race crossing challenge" across twelve kilometres of the lake to sell at the market. The boats were made from the firewood itself floating barely above the surface, arms moved sluggishly as we passed by with our luxrious 45hp engine. It’s a weekly routine to make 75 Birr (NZ$15).

Ethiopia was to be the last country before our Sudan entry; the bane of our racing north due to visa entry timelimit. We were making slow leeway with low money, Mungo having kill switch troubles needing mechanical assistance and later Twad’s bike having cooling fan troubles. All were the focus of frustrating perseverance. Twad’s eventually having to abandon riding putting his bike in a dump truck in the closing hour of the day.

On a remote dirt road in a valley steep with rocks and a sky awash with changing colours the KLR650 was hoisted five metres over the side of the sturdy steel bucket with only twelve pairs of hands assisting it up. Darkness hid what a calamity of chaos it really was. Once up on board it was a 64km ride to the next town Debre Markos where Napoleon was to fix up the fan and welcome us into his culture head first beginning with a few "Ethiopian alcohol". Some of the boys were caught tipping it out as shot glasses were topped aplenty with the horid taste.

Relief finally filled our mood as we patiently passed through immigration at the Sudanese border. Ethiopia was behind us, Sudan now at our wheels. An extremely unhelpful man trying to rip us off attached himself to us as we slowly progressed requesting money for his help in money exchange. We eventually got through our message that we didn’t need his assistance and he sulked off shouting, "I hope you as a whiteman have a bad trip. I hate the whiteman!"; past the goats playfighting, past the colourfully painted trucks, past the content white robes of the Sudanese, past the dusty earth; past no-mans-land back to Ethiopia. Almost on cue the big man with a huge frown, translating our passports into Arabic violently stamping each one, rose with a smile in a loud voice; "Welcome to Sudan!!"

Our ride ahead turned from bumpy dust into clean black tar freshly laid. It was a road just for us. Plains stretched for miles either side with arid crops and sanddirt. We stopped to lie on the road and feel its heat from the day. The sun had begun it’s well-oiled daily routine falling behind the haze in the horizon flaming orange and red and a little purple. A truck stopped backed up and two men jumped out: "We are from Egypt! Welcome to Sudan!" They were building the road, a gift from Egypt. "We’re from New Zealand! HEY!!!! Thanks!"

West still, towards Khartoum, we leisurely stopped and filmed and enjoyed the numerous food stalls along the straight hot road. A man invited us over for coffee at one food stop. "Come. I invite you. Invite you coffee." Adriss had two wives and plenty of young Adriss’s, he also had a girlfriend from NZ, very proud of all. We could not offer much in our tally of wives - altogether we totalled zero - so he continually offered the tea lady as available.

 

Addis Ababa to Khartoum Images

Chronicle blurp

The highlands of Ethiopia tested the bikes on the drive north from Addis. Beautifully sealed roads were interdispersed with horrible rocky pistes: Ethiopia is certainly a land of contrasts. The people are one moment the most helpful and unassuming in africa, and the next are mobbing you and trying to make away with your gear.

On the way to Debre Markos Nic’s bike Audrey had a bout of overheating and we became stranded on a mountain pass as night set in. After some negotiations we were able to the bike on the back of a truck to get it to the city. The loading of the bike was a typical african fiasco as twenty locals, none of whom spoke english, rushed in a hoisted the bike precariously into the air, barely manging to shuffle it into the dump truck without it plummeting to the ground. With some african mechanics help, the bike had a new cooling fan the next morning and we were back on the road heading for Sudan.

Passing hilltop castles and island monestaries we arrived at the Sudanese border town of Metema with two days to spare on our Visas, then breathed a big sigh of relief. Sudan is a dry country and as we headed towards Khartoum the desert unfolded before us. The Arab culture was also immediately evident as the locals were almost exclusively dressed in White robes with head wraps, and the only women to be seen operated tea stands. After countless cups of tea shared with friendly Sudanese we arrived in the remarkably presentable and well organised city of Khartoum, then set up camp right on the confluence of the Blue and White Niles.

The driest and most difficult stretch of the Saharan desert was all that seperated us from Egypt and the easier going north...