Are you having a Giraffe

Like cycle touring it has been a while since I have done a blog. I'm a bit rusty at both. So much like my first day back on the road I will try and keep it short and tell you about my first few days in Africa. The last time I was in Africa it wasn't too kind to me (http://bit.ly/1hCfLTQ).  I suppose in many ways it influenced my expectations of how my arrival in Nairobi would be like. I needn't have worried it is just another big developed city. Huge in fact!

I planned on leaving the city just after sunrise the next day. This plan went out the window when I noticed I had a flat tyre. It took me over 15,000 miles before I got one last time. So you can understand my surprise. Not to worry I had spare tubes so I just got about changing it. Only then to realise that I had brought tubes with the wrong valve fitting. Yep I know what a muppet!

This put me in the situation of having to go to one of the shopping malls in Nairobi to try source a new one. After recent events in the city this was something that I had hoped to avoid. I needn't have worried. I have never before seen so many guys with guns in a shopping centre. In fact there is a lot of security everywhere I have been so far.

So, finally tube bought and replaced I was then off. The hustle and bustle of Nairobi was like many cities I had been before. I was well prepared for dodging trucks and weaving through grid traffic. My right hand soon remembered its automatic up movement to wave every time I heard a cheery beeps from the oncoming trucks. It took a few miles to get into a rhythm and feel comfortable on Kirsty again. But the feel of the hand positions, pedaling and changing of gears soon came back. It was like we hadn't stopped.

Some 20 miles into the day, I managed to break, the newly fitting that morning, bike computer. So I got out my favourite expedition tool, duct tape. In the time it took me to do this brief repair, a herd (if they come in herds?) of giraffes walked right past me. I would have missed them if I hadn't stopped. The down side of this though, is it does suggest that those cute and cuddly character from the Disney film the Lion King might actually be real!

With in a few hours of riding I had broke my vow to not see any animals in Africa. Moments later as I was cycling along I startled two prancing gazelles that darted away from me. I pondered if this would work on lions too as I made my way up a drawn out climb. At the top I stopped and double checked with a local to see if I was going the correct way. I wasn't. I had actually went the furthest distance that I have ever went in the wrong direction (see it hear:  http://bit.ly/17fTar9).

I turned round and set about getting back on track. Kenya is a country that I am finding difficult to navigate. Before night fall I stopped in a town that could have been a quieter version of a Indian city. Day one has been hard. I'm sun burnt, dirty from the road, have covered very little distance, found the traffic challenging,  and road condition dishearten. I still have a very long way to go. Have I bitten off more than I can handle with this challenge?


The ride is for the Myocarditis foundation. Please read and share Lucy's story   http://bit.ly/15VuzNp

Big thanks to everyone that has donated and shared Lucy's story so far!

Robbed at knife point in Morocco.

To my right a desk with two computers sat back to back astride bundles of paper work written in a language secret to me.   This was the focal point that dominated the otherwise featureless room.  It didn't interest me. Nothing in the room did.  My eyes were fixed on the wall to the left. I can't tell you the colour of it or if posters covered the wall. Maybe it was cracked and damaged I can't say.  I was in a trance, lost in this small stuffy space, parked on a wooden seat set adrift from the desk.  This wasn't happening. This was not real.

....The end of the blade was rounded, not sharp, but rounded with a jagged tip that shone bright in the waking light of the early morning.  It was pointed directed at my neck.....

 No I was literally thousands of miles away.  I was in the bush battling the flies and the heat, I was riding along the deep sand roads in Kazakhstan, I was looking in disbelief as I had arrived at the port in Saint John's for the ferry to Nova Scotia after having completed 380km in a under 24 hours, sure that I was set to fail and return home early. I was rerunning the last 340 days through my head. Challenge after challenge replayed, the work and effort remembered.  All the challenges I had faced and overcome now stood for nothing. It was over.

....The second knife was long, very long. A machete.  Its handle was small and the tip of the rounded blade pushed against my ribs......

A voice asked me a question in a combination of languages; this brought me back into the room. He looked like them.  They all did. But of course it wasn't them.   The officer had wanted nothing more than an answer to one of the question on his form. You could see it in his eyes.  All he wanted was my information so that when it was collected I could be processed and shown the door.    

.....I was on the floor. I could hear the sound of the waves rolling unwillingly on to the dirty yellow of the beach.   I had just been sleeping. It was a strategic sleep, a tried and tested method of recovery. I had only stopped a few hours earlier and in 15 minutes I had planned to get up and ride to Tangier. It was 43 km away, I was bound for Gibraltar, British soil I was so very nearly home.......  

"What is your Job?"  Asked the officer. I explained that I had been cycling around the world for nearly a year and was close to finishing. I had cycled through 26 countries on five continents covering nearly 38,000km. I was aiming for just over 40000km. He looked at me with very little interest and disappointment with my answer. This didn't fit in the box. The Moroccan officer tried again till I gave an answer that conformed to the formalities of the report in front of him.

.......The knifes are what I noticed first. These were both held in the hands of one of the three men that I awoke to find around me. I was confused. What was going on? Why was this man pointing a knife at me? What had I done to him?....

"What did they take?" was asked next. How could I answer this? Did he mean the phone from my pocket? Yes, this man of the law, enjoyed this answer.  This fitted nicely on the form.  The pleasure he seemed to receive from the answer  was equally matched with disappointment when I detailed the small amount of money I had on me. He almost seemed not to believe me a "rich" tourist could have so little. So he asked this question a number of times.

.......One of the two not holding a knife grabbed Kristy as she lay on her side next to me. I lunged without thinking clasping the frame as fear gripped me like I have never known before. They were going to take Kirsty. I couldn't let this happening. Not now, not so close to the end. The remaining man behind me shoved me back to the floor with force and pinned me there.  I then realised what was happening.  I was being robbed. These three Moroccan men were robbing me.  I tried to sit up and say I had money only to be forced back to the ground.......

"Camera?"  the officer prompted. "Yes a camcorder ," I explained.  I had been filming the entire expedition and was going to make a documentary at the end of it. He was busy typing and ignoring me. I was now blurting out anything that I hoped would urge them to help me situation. I had lost 7 months worth of filming in a matter of moments. I needed these men at the police station to help me so badly.

.....The man without a knife lifted Kirsty and laughed as if this was a game.  He reached down gripping one of the front panniers and ripped it savagely from its position. I watched as the small bag that contained my journals, filming, and photographs went over my head to the other man and into a car. Wait, I did a double take, yes a car. These men had a car! What would people  that could afford a car want with my photos? This didn't make sense.........

 "Anything else?" the officer asked unconvincingly. It appeared to me that I had given an answer to all the items that was of interest to him. I had watched in disbelief as my camcorder, passport, photos, wallet, phone had all been stolen from me and put into the back of the car. The most important things to me were the flags I had collected from all the commonwealth nations I had visited. I was taking them home to fly. Thousands upon thousands of miles of effort were put into collecting them and they were now gone. The officer never added this to his report. They were of no value to him.  

......After removing the front panniers he promptly pulled off the rear two and tent ripping and tearing at my equipment which found its way into the back of the car. The two without the knifes followed the bags and started up the car. The armed coward got in last. I ran and started punching the window as it sped off with everything..........

The officer handed me a copy of the report and left me in a room. The investigation was over after this transaction. It was at this point I realised what this officer had first said to me "Ah you are the boy from the beach?" How did he know that? I had only just met him. How could he know I was down by the beach?

I may have lost everything but the challenge continues. I am not going to let this scum ruin everything I have worked so hard at.