Amateur antics

Warning: this post also includes yet another schoolboy blunder, if you’ve already had enough of reading about these now is a good time to press ALT+F4, unfollow or unlike 🙂

 “All men die, few men ever really live.”

William Wallace

The truth of telling the truth

Before this trip I told many people that I intended to make my story slightly different by sharing the truth of the journey, the ups and downs and to share some of my emotions instead of just sharing the great stuff that we all love about cycling touring. This all sounds easy during the dreamy days of planning a huge trip like this one. The truth of it is I’m having great difficulty sharing the following story. Sharing this means putting my bruised ego to one side, accepting that I have flaws, insecurities, doubts and that I’m not always the tough guy adventurer that is in my heart.

Big boys games, big boys rules

With 20/20 hindsight its easy to put the pieces of the puzzle together and see where it all went wrong, each link in the chain could of been broken and averted disaster but wasn’t.

It all started with a long warm bus trip on Sunday, I didn’t drink much because I have a bladder the size of a pea so didn’t want toilet issues. Then an hour cycling around town in the dark looking for a place to stay, an early night not drinking much because I didn’t trust the tap water and couldn’t be bothered to use my filter. Then a 5.30 wake up call because the guy from reception wanted me to sign in?????. Running around town trying to get a new mobile phone organised (now the proud owner of a big pink phone), 2 hours in a warm internet cafe updating my blog, then finally hitting the road.

I was so relieved to finally be cycling on a beautiful sunny day with alpine views on a quiet tarmac road, that I didn’t care that it was hard work and that I was sweating like a crazy fool. I started drinking lots but was really already a day behind. A light headache started and I started to feel sick, not the end of the world, its not the first time I’ve cycled like this and I usually get there anyway. I had no idea how warm it was until I saw that the tar at the side of the road was melting…..ooh dear!

I found a spot to camp at a B+B after 45km and thought it best to stop early. But instead of a quiet night eating pasta with a cold beer, I had sunstroke and was vomiting and had diarrhea followed by a rough night. In the morning I managed a sandwich and figured with only 70km to ride to the spot I want to spend the next weeks, I would just invoke rule 5 of my Dear Shane, and just do a slow day on character figuring I always get there in the end anyway, its not the first time I’ve cycled feeling rough. How wrong I was…..

After only 5km I was feeling so sick that I left the road and took shade under a tree thinking patience and drinking water would sort me out. I wanted to lie down but the ground was so rough I just sat leaning half against the tree. What followed where the worst 3 hours of my life, drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling sick, headache, shaking, fever and the occasional stagger a few yards down wind for a gravy moment.

That dark place

About 2 hours into this ordeal I drifted into that dark place, a horrible place at the center of our soul where we rarely come. Its a cold and dark place and you get confronted with your own insecurities, doubts, worry, weakness and general misery. I started to wonder if I might die here at the side of the road all alone. For a brief moment all I wanted was to be home safe and being cared for by a loved one, but then I laughed.

The irony of the situation and the thought where hilarious, even if my new pink phone had a “beam me up Scotty” button I didn’t have the strength to crawl the 2m to my phone and press it!! I fell asleep again for an hour then spent another hour slowly drinking and eating nuts. Eventually having the strength to push my bike back to the road and hitchhike. In a way I’m pleased I was alone, I would of felt so sorry for anyone who would of had to watch me being pathetic for 4 hours without being able to do a thing.

Once again in my darkest hour I was saved by a stranger in a big fat car, proving once again we live in a world full of nice people instead of murderers and nutters. Neville not only took me to town but took the 15km detour to drop me off at the front door of the guest farm I wanted to stay at. Now two days on I’m finally farting WITH confidence and WITHOUT gravy, and starting to feel human again.

Whats it done to me?. This was just a nice wake up call to pay more attention, the irony is that in the big deserts and on long stretches I always pay attention to water and food but when I’m around civilization I get too comfortable and lazy and make mistakes. This was just another minor inconvenience in the big scheme of things and has not affected my overall positive state of mind and confidence in my ability to carry on this journey. I also believe that moments like this give contrast and depth making the peak moments in a journey even more wonderful!

A change of pace

My cunning plan to make sure I don’t get sick of cycling during this trip is a change of pace from time to time. Mr Hyde has decided he want an early Christmas holiday, so he is off drinking and chasing cheap Asian imports (or what ever bikes do when they go partying).

I will spend 2 days just reading and eating then will start my “Christmas program”. So while you are all running around in the cold, rain and snow trying to do that last minute Christmas shopping and going to all those horrible Christmas party’s, my days will look like this:

6am Sunrise Yoga
7am Breakfast
8-10am Reading, writing, snoozing
10am Second breakfast
11am-4pm Hiking and having lunch on top of a different mountain each day.
Repeat as necessary!

Then next week I’m move 50km North to the Drakensberg and do it all again. Then sometime after Christmas I’ll sober Mr Hyde up with a ride up Sani-pass and on into Lesotho, the second country of this trip. It almost sounds like a holiday:)

Hopefully this change of pace will also bring a change of luck. Thank you all for your patience and for the positive support I’ve received via comments, email, social media and telephone.