Uhoh! A strange pattern is emerging! Move 1000km and then stop for long than expected periods of time. Maturity in long-term travel is how I am looking at it – focusing on the detail of an area as opposed to trying to gauge how life is like while passing through for 24 hours or less. I’m in the capital city of Kampala, once known at the city of 7 hills, but with large population growth my knowledgeable quote became stale about the early 1990’s soon morphing into 13 large hills surrounding various neighborhoods of the city of 1.2 million people. It’s the most relaxed East African Capital city I’ve been to as of yet, although it has its own challenges to deal with. Traffic is a mess, but certainly nothing compared to the throngs of traffic in Nairobi, or the sidewalk driving that occurred in Dar Es Salaam Tanzania. Minibuses cart people around, but more common is the Boda Boda, a 125cc or less motorcycle that often rides dangerously through oncoming traffic lanes to get passengers to their spot at a fraction of the price of the standard taxi vehicle. Still, public transportation in East Africa is expensive. 5km usually equates to $10 to move you around, but don’t think the drivers are making lots of money at it – some will wait for half a day for a fare due to the amount of competition they face. I’ve been riding, but not much due to some health issues I was working through. In fact, my last post had me writing about heading to Jinja before coming to the capital, but after a frustrating day of riding on dirt roads (my choice), lack of energy (medication reactions), getting a rock thrown at me by kids in a village (first time), and punching someone in the head enroute into Kampala (I told him 3 times to stop touching my stuff), I opted to B-line into a backpackers hostel where I knew another cyclist was residing and opted for rest.

I managed to connect with a friend who I met in Nairobi a few months earlier, moving over to their house, being introduced to their friends spending a few days riding on speedboats on Lake Victoria (which is much more scenic than what I saw on the Kisumu, Kenya side which seems to be infested with weeds), tests of physical endurance dangling in the air with safety belts on obstacle courses, and checking out the nightlight, albeit sober, without beer in hand, as I watched the rest of the patrons evolve into jovial to flat out stumbling messes. Do I look that as well too? On the weekend I was even invited out to Entebbe to go camping, some 40km away from Kampala – a lush green affluent neighborhood of greater Kampala where fine restaurants exist housed inside planes recovered from the 1973 Palestinian bombing on Entebbe, Pizza places that surpass any similar type of restaurant in the Western world both in presentation, price, and taste. Camping at the Entebbe Sailing Club was lush, even though the skies opened up and drenched everything on the day that all  us campers decided to stay extra. Lesson learned even off the bike, stick with the original plan. Highlight however was being able to spend some time with a Ugandan friend I had spent a lot of time with in Nairobi. Saying goodbye and even See ya soon sucks, but thankful for the time spent. I also got over my issue with eating food that was covered in insects, Our food was discovered by ants, and based on news I’ve read recently, the UN actually recommends we chow down on these things more often.

A water funnel on Lake Victoria – WOA!

Just shake em off, it’ll be fine!

Due to Dam building in Ethiopia on the Nile river, Lake Victoria’s water level is 13feet higher than normal and rising. There is a pier in that photo, but we are also walking on Soda Crates to get to the boat. It’s also causing problems for Egypt, who have little flow from the Nile river that so many millions of people desperately rely on for living.

Upon return to Kampala  back at the hostel, I found myself turning into a small celebrity. A few days earlier the press had caught wind that I was in town and came for an interview. I’m usually pretty aloof to accepting these sorts of opportunities – press being notorious for grabbing bits of information and spinning them, or misinterpreting what was said. I was pleasantly surprised to catch wind that articles had appeared on the Daily Monitor’s website in multiple pieces (One being a review of my book, The other talking about travelling through Africa, with the other giving a synopsis of my travels). It wasn’t until I was out in public where I was stopped by many people proclaiming that they had seen my photos and story in the newspaper. I tracked down a copy of the newspaper, flabbergasted by the detail and the fact that I managed to get the centre pullout of the Sunday newspaper. Here’s a picture of the full article, You’ll have to click to zoom in on this high-resolution article.

Then things got weird. Someone appeared at the Backpackers Hostel I was staying at curious to put a face to the name, quickly turning into a week of nonstop entertainment, as I struggled with the side effects of my medication (vomiting, feeling like getting punched in the gut every hour, irritability, lack of appetite, insomnia, headaches, constant urination woo!). First, I found myself as a guest on NBS TV’s morning show “The Morning Flavour” – answering a few questions, conveniently avoiding questions that could affect my personal safety, even cracking a few jokes along the way. You’ll even get to hear me talk the way I talk to most people in Africa, conveniently missing words when not required, and even having an accent that sounds similar to a Quebecquois. It was a cool opportunity and many photos were taken with the crew and staff. Funny, I think they just grabbed photos of the website, so there’s a ridiculous amount of headstands from around the world broadcast across Uganda.  A few surprises were said throughout the show (which unfortunately I don’t have access to, only the clip below) involving my appearance the following night at a “Ballet Performance” – I tried to keep my surprise down wondering what that meant. Am I performing? Am I dressing up in a tutu? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

WBS TV Morning Flavour Crew

The Ugandan National Contemporary Ballet was performing in a theatre in preparation for their European Tour which is commencing in the upcoming months. During costume changes I found myself on stage fumbling through a story of how I ended up in Uganda, answering the common questions I find myself asked on the road daily, and plugging the sale of my book – Desperately trying to get rid of some copies due to the added weight and strain it is causing to the ride, ripping bags, with no ability to carry extra food in the event of desolate times. Fast forward a week later and I only carry a dog-eared colour copy that I show to others – the rest have been picked up and placed for sale in high-end restaurants around town and bookshops via contacts I have met). A strange experience at the Ballet, but a wonderful 1.5 hour show which contained a lot of laughs and some black light trickery for the final performance.

Uganda National Contempoary Ballet

It didn’t stop there. I found myself the next night in the VIP section of a Fashion Show, put together by a well-known musician in Uganda, Hellen Lukoma. The dress code was white, so I wore all black and figured my skin colour would act as the entrance for the white – It worked, and the show was a nonstop parade of who’s who in the country of singers, actors from popular TV series, and movies. My arm was sore from shaking hands all night with my new ‘friends’ opening up many more doors to events in the upcoming weeks. At some point over the past few weeks I’ve felt a bit paraded around, but at the same time has been quite fun, a different experience, and I have some good stories to tell and memories of Kampala. Kampala now takes the title of my favorite East African city.

I had to wait for a few weeks to get the go-ahead from doctors that I was clear to ride away from Kampala, so I occupied my (sober) time doing writing, performing some well needed bicycle maintenance, patching holes in panniers, and getting a chance to meet other travellers along the way. Technically, while the internet has been available I’ve started to repair many of the issues with this website as I’ve heard reports of Blank white pages, issues with rendering of maps, and other oddities. I reset some of the links on the gear page as well to go to proper sites again, keeping the website up to date is a lot of work! The next update of the website will remove complexities of navigation as it’s grown well beyond what I originally intended this “blog” to be. I also spent considerable time fixing errors in the book – 3 months after publishing typos keep being reported to me – shamefully I update the manuscripts and reupload them to both the electronic and hardcopy publishers. I handed out a couple of complimentary copies in return for reviews (good or bad!) and it seems to be adding a bit of buzz to the book along the way. If you, the reader can commit to a review on Amazon, GoodReads, or Smashwords I’ll even send you an electronic copy at no charge as well! Finally, I worked on a new presentation, filled with all sorts of flashy video effects to keep people interested on a screen in stead of looking at me while I do public speaking. When I do it of course

 Cleared from the Doctors, I’m now ready to head west to travel around Uganda a bit more before crossing into Rwanda. I’ve had a surprisingly awesome few set of weeks in Kampala, and although I’m tired from the constant go-go-go aspect of the events I’ve attended it kept my spirits up through some pretty tough mental times. Bonus, is that this slowdown means the rainy season is pretty much over, so I’m looking forward to sleeping in the bush again as opposed to schools, being able to have a beer after riding, and new places to explore. Not looking forward to the mountain that are approaching – Rwanda, my next country is known as the ‘land of 1000 hills’. Gulp.  I’m committing to sticking on Tar roads as much as possible to keep my spirits up and not piss me off for riding . I can’t head out yet from Kampala it seems, as a review of the entrance requirements for Rwanda have since changed for Canadian’s! What was once a no charge/knock on the door of the border with a smile asking to come in/90 days no questions asked policy has morphed into an apply online/hand over $60 USD/hope they accept you affair. I was looking forward to one of the few “free” entrance countries to save a few dollars, but that seems to be a thing of the past for any future countries as well. Was good while it lasted. The only problem with the application is that the online website is down, so I will have to find an embassy in town here and wait days to gain approval. Frustrating, but certainly is a sign of things to come for any countries in the future as they all seem to have their own entry requirements, some even having to send my passport back to Canada for a few weeks. How this is going to go down is beyond me, paired with few warnings from separate foreign affairs offices it’s bound to see that my plans are about to change yet again – Hang around, It’s gonna be a wild ride..

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Sore Butt, stiff legs, waking up at 3am on the dot to go outside and have a whizz, seems like I’m back it in full force. Uganda is the perfect country so far to get conditioned for what I know is coming – the country of 1000 mountains, Rwanda. I’ve been cycling here a  little over a week now and I have to say that this is a very cycle tourist friendly country. The locals, while they will tell you that it is ‘flat’, are close. Light rolling hills can usually be taken care of in gear 5 if I have enough momentum from the previous descent, or 1, my highest gear if I want to take it easy. Most of the time I want to take it easy. The Sun is tough, with temperatures reaching 30 degrees by 10:30am, but unlike Kenya and Tanzania; water is plentiful by the hundreds of boreholes strategically placed everywhere.

Not once have I been in a situation of running out of water like I so often found myself in the previous two countries, and more often than not I can find a mother, or a child who will help me fill my bottles, in return I fill their 5 gallon jugs which they balance on their had so well on the way back to their house. It’s not so much houses here, Uganda has definitely been held back by nearly 25 years of hard times by insurgency, a few bad neighbors, and tough economic conditions. The houses are back to the round mud huts with straw on the roof, often clustered 3 or 4 together, a small family nestled in a plot surrounded by their crops that they so tenderly care for regularly. If they were lucky, they may have one of the monstrous Mango trees that are so popular in the area containing thousands of the near ripe fruits that can be eaten at any meal, or desert. They say June is the optimal time, unfortunately I’m a bit too early. No worries, there is other fruit readily available for purchase in every little village that appears 10 kilometres or less from the last one. Pineapples stacked in piles, avocados, and huge fruits that I always used to regard as ‘bombs’ back in Canada when I’d see them in the grocery store known as Jack Fruit. I’m off beer for a while, so I have a new vice, One Pineapple a day, 2 handfuls of Bananas, and a chunk of Jackfruit to refresh myself throughout the day.

Investors take note – 20% annual interest – Amazing.

They’re fearless, they’re back, they’re baboons.

Ugandan’s are inquisitive bunches! Many questions, a huge amount of smiles, and waves nearly from everyone I’ve met. I must say hello and briefly converse with 200 people per day it seems, the men usually huddled in a group under shade, and to the women as they ride bicycles back and forth and keep their families together. In fact, it’s a 10:1 ratio of women to men riding the bicycles. True to what the teachers said last week, the road conditions turned positive and I was able to ride on some nice tarmac without bumps jostling through my body – other than the many rumble strips and speed bumps one sees entering into towns. Some have been flattened nicely by overweight semi trucks and I usually find myself quickly shifting to find the easier route at a split seconds notice. I’ve only had one negative encounter with a person so far, which was in Lira, where I stopped for two nights rest staying in a guesthouse, heading out once for an appointment followed by lying in bed the entire day. I had been riding around the city upon first arrival, and was tired from 5 constant days of riding, leaning my bicycle up against a tree. A policeman came by, and we made conversation before he bid me farewell letting me know he was heading to court across the street. He was in Black and White Camouflage. Next, another Police officer came by, dressed in Olive attire and asked a few questions to me aggressively. My phone rang and I answered it, letting them know I’d need to call them back – it was then he noticed I had a camera in my hand.

Lord’s Resistance Army Memorial for lives lost from 1987 – now in Lira, Uganda

“Are you a journalist?” – No, I replied. “What are you doing here?” – I’m riding my bicycle around Uganda, I replied curtly, as I had just explained that to him less than a minute earlier. “Why do you have the camera?” – Because I was taking photos of this monument over there, I think it’s pretty important stuff! “You can’t take pictures in Uganda, I will detain you and lock you up!” as he started to walk away. I bit my tongue, said a few words silently in my head and watched him walk over to the court. Hey, some people have bad days. Other than that it’s been good. The reason why I took a picture of the monument was to make sure I firmly remembered the conversation I had the day before with 40 people beside a water borehole. Very polite, curious group of adults, with more standing across the street (To which the group apologized for them, and said they were too shy to approach), asking all sorts of questions of my trip, what Canada was like, agriculture, family life. I explained for 30 minutes, and then they taught me a few words in their language, at this stage I can only remember two – Yoga! (Yoh-Gah) – meaning How are you, Bear (BAYr) – Almost cartoon like remembrance for those, and I showed them what Yoga was for the west and other parts of the word to laughter. Sadly, they also explained about why there were so little people in their area and why they were so behind. Victims of Insurgency over the past 20 years decimated their population, collapsed their economy, and brought 40 tribes of Uganda all together from the massacres of one man, Joseph Kony. What an asshole.

Sure, the name stands out – I saw a film on him in Malawi last year which you can see below, which received both positive and negative criticism from around the world. I found it a bit flashy, but it certainly got the message it wanted across, and in fact a lot of the stories are true. This guy was/is a despicable man, coming into villages, lining up the men, having their throats cut, little girls raped, boys taken away to be consumed as child soldiers into his Lord’s Resistance Army, and mothers limbs being cut off in front of their family members. The stories I heard, the piles of bones I was later shown put a hefty lump in my throat and I waved them all goodbye after 2 hours of talking settling into a school for the night where fireflies danced around and a lightning storm was off in the distance. I was surprised when nearly two dozen men appeared upon sundown as they had heard news of a white man who was in the area, introducing themselves as stakeholders of the community, wanting to wish me a welcome, all shaking my hand, saying thank you for coming. I’m starting to find huge similarities with Uganda and Zimbabwe in terms of the wonderful people, way of life. There seems to be a bit more products available in Uganda though.

Start up that Torrent client – 10MB goes a long way!

The villages and cities that I ride past are the typical fare, 6 or 7 brick buildings, sometimes painted with a bright colour sponsored by either the phone company, a paint company, or a painkiller company, to many locked and closed doors. I don’t even know what are behind the doors, as there is no signs advertising products or no people around. The odd door will be open and you may find some dry goods for sale, but most of it is found by ladies sitting under a tree selling tomatoes, green oranges, or other things. Sometimes you might even find someone making Chapati’s offering them for sale for about 10 cents each – I stock up on a handful of these circular starch bombs and munch on them in the morning as the porridge I picked up in Kisumu, Kenya just isn’t covering the bases of my nutritional requirements.

Jack Fruit – these sticky sweet things are bigger than my rear panniers!

I’ve been staying in schools an awful lot more than expected, but it’s turned out to be interesting, with hundreds of kids watching as I setup and tear down camp in the morning, followed by a question and answer session when I am done my daily chores. Highlights are the presentatons I do in the morning for the P6 and P7 (Think 12 years old’ish) students about my journey, a lot of positive remarks and a lo of hand waving. They’re getting something out of it judging by their huge smiles and laughter when I crack jokes. Seeing 1000 children run out of the classrooms and run after you waving upon exit is a memory that you can never let go of.

A mango tree. Let’s do the math. Yield 2000 mangoes, x what must be hundreds of thousands of trees here?

I’m about halfway through my riding over to Jinja, again back to Lake Victoria for a few days rest before heading into the capital city of Kampala. Riding has been good, going through nature conservatories, national parks with huge rivers to cross, although I found one day marred by a constant headwind, bothered in my head about how I was to fix my stoves which both pumps both broke at the exact same time. I figured it out under shade today, likely back pressure causing the pump flappers to rip and become loose, although I have to remove the fuel filter to make it work properly. One step forward and two steps backwards, they say! I have a feeling I’ll have a positive experience the rest of my riding before rest with the friendly smiles, interesting chatter with the locals, and gobbling down fruit to keep my sanity in check. Way to go Uganda!

Can’t forget the coconuts either. See why I am camping in schools and NOT under trees during rainy season?

Elevation Chart

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Yahoo! I actually made it to another post where I’m still riding! Based on my last few failed attempts it seems that I’ve hit the road and I’m committing to it. The road – ugh, Welcome to Uganda, Dave. Getting here was one thing, and then it quickly went down hill fast. On the road. Not the grade. I should find new euphemisms.

When I last wrote I had just left Nairobi, perhaps 2 days in where I was scrambling to get the muscles in my body conditioned before any surprise hills came. Surprise! They came. And they came in hard and fast. 25km of steep grades leaving the days total of 1600 some odd metres ascended sapped my energy, brought frustration as I was turned down for my very first time ever at a church to spend the night. Ok, it was just some groundskeepers in charge of handing out water for the Red Cross who said no, and couldn’t quite grasp that I wanted to have them fetch the Priest’s number so I could give him a call to get authorization. Luckily I had been spotted by many people in the town and word was circulating that someone was roaming around looking for something. A friendly fellow named Richard took me over to the school where he taught at and I was able to settle off. In the morning, 300 children swarmed around my bicycle waiting on their very last day of school of the term asking every question under the sun. I gave a few candies to the ones who asked the good questions, and we managed to grab a bunch of photos too. It’s all downhill the Principal said to me as I rode away to make my way to Kisumu.

It’s all downhill for he first 40km, and it’s also all mud. Major diversions in place for a new road to be built made it a slip and slide as I had to shift from side to side on the road and hold on so that I wouldn’t topple over. Covered in mud, both bicycle and myself I seem to have had every truck driver who passed me stick his thumb out the window and give a congratulatory toot on the horn. Then came the climbs again, what the? Worth it to see the Kenyan Highlands where it seems all the Tea is coming from. I saw where the Coffee comes from a few months back, and the tea fields are something that legends are made out of. After a 30km descent at 60km an hour I was at the lowest elevation I’d been since leaving – the temperature rose because of this and I slowly pedaled forward, stopping along the way at a few churches to sleep. The one thing that stands out was the breakfast I was invited to, where I was offered fertilized chicken eggs for breakfast. Hey – I eat Chicken, I eat Eggs, why not eat halfway? Quite Salty but very tasty none the less. Good protein too apparently!

I arrived in Kisumu, which is situated on the edge of Lake Victoria, meeting some people I had been in contact with for a few weeks though a hospitality network, taking advantage of some free Wi-Fi, before being escorted by bicycle taxi to the “Ghetto’ as it was affectionately called. The Kisumu Slums. I’ve been in worse locations before, these places had brick walls, electricity and power, compared to some of the places I’ve stayed in and rode past in Africa, so I shrugged off my Couchsurfing host’s comments and made myself at home for a few days, hanging out, getting some good solid rest, meeting people involved in a few Bicycle NGO’s, and a surprise visit to the hospital. I’ll get to that in a few weeks when it’s all over – but I’m now being forced not to drink any beer for the next five or six weeks, while at the same time going in for tests and samples once a week. Everything will be ok – as long as I watch my stress levels. In fact, friends told me that I should stop and rest in nearby Jinja, Uganda for a few weeks, but I’d only go crazy sitting idle, and going back to my reasoning of never being sick while riding, this seemed like a good way to shake my toxins out. It’s working.

Sega, no, not the video game company, but a small township in the western edge of Kenya not far from the border is where I ended up one night saying hello to a friend Julia, and her roommate Leo, whom I met both on the other side of the country in Mombasa. They live at a Catholic Parrish providing healthcare services for people in the community (top problem – Malaria) and provided a bed for me and lots of food. They even helped me out by buying two of the books I’ve been carrying, considerably lightening my load and making bags easier to shut. I’ve gotta get some stitching done again on a pannier as after overfilling it, I ripped it wide open. It’s ok right now, but the more I delay, the worse it will get. Stop procrastinating Dave!

The same went for my power generation kit. I’ve been using my new phone pretty regularly, and it slurps on battery life. I’ve also been listening to music again, as I managed to find a drill press in Kisumu to make my new speaker mounts, as my old ones were too small. Hello Stereo, and hello weird looks from people as I whiz past them playing quirky music. At the end of the day though, my batteries are dying, not charging. I took everything apart again, and found that the connectors going to the hub needed to be reinserted. Will monitor from now on, but I really want to have some good days where there is nothing to be bothersome, and that everything acts optimal. The riding itself is great, and my body is in fine form, the odd ache in the back, pain signal In my leg or knee, and yeah, the ass hurts, but those are to be expected. I’m even getting reasonable sleep. So it is, the routine again. Although I’m not eating cookies before bed anymore – sorry, have to add you to the list of things I can never eat again. African Cookies. I hope the next one is Nutella, as I heard a rumor that in Kampala, Uganda’s capital that it is the same cost as it would be in Germany, and the Germans love that stuff. I don’t know what I am, but I’m all over it as well, memories of it being frozen in 2010 in Québec city and being able to run a spoon across the had brown goodness and place a few shavings into my mouth. When it’s warm I just end up eating the whole damn jar in one sitting, so it would be nice for some cool weather.

It’s not going to happen though, as it’s unreasonably hot in the day, and mostly cool at night, no matter which side of the equator I’m on. I crossed it for the first (of many times coming soon), eventually meeting someone later on that day who told me that the world apparently moves 7 different ways instead of the two ways we’ve all been led to believe. He’s fighting for a world clock in that area to be used for research around the world. I’d always heard that things are lighter at the equator than they are at the poles, but I wasn’t going to test, I did see that Sunrise was at 6:32am, and Sunset was at 6:46pm – so it’s obvious things have gone a bit awry, or we’re not so round after all.

Crossing the border was an easy affair, as I changed all my Kenyan Shillings into the new Ugandan Shillings – which have an awful lot of 0’s attached to the end of them. Any change I had left turned into banana’s hanging off my bag, and a big Pineapple that I salivated about for the next 5 hours after crossing the border, being told by Kenyan Authorities I needed to fly back to Canada if I ever wanted to return, and with a smile by a female Ugandan border officer who said I was welcome for 90 days and could even work if I wanted to tell them. As I waited I watched the debacle of what’s been happening US Stateside in the east coast. It was a terrible thing to occur, but at the same time I’ll leave all my comments to myself other than “Whatever happened to Innocent until Proven Guilty?”. I’m not sure if it was related today, but I received a lot of yelling, and some pretty negative remarks from people who assumed that I was from my southern Neighbor as opposed to Canada. Ugh – I hope people can keep their cool.

I had an experience that has been on my mind sometime in the middle of nowhere in Kenya. I entered a Petrol station to buy a cold drink. When I paid, the female attendant looked at me and said – I have met you before! I get this all the time, so I shrugged it off and said that no, this was my first time in the area. She then proceeded to tell me when I arrived in the mid morning, bought a bag of popcorn, and a 500mL Coca Cola, paid with a 200 shilling note, and sat outside by myself before leaving. This is where it gets strange. She told me she had met me late November, 700km away. It finally clicked with me that I had been in a similar situation, and was amazed that she could remember the exact transaction. It turns out she travels around helping people out at the chain of petrol stations who are on leave which is how she ended up in the middle of nowhere. I can only wish I had the same memory that some people I have met on this trip have.

Uganda seems to be ok so far! Crappy roads, but awfully nice people who insist I come and stay with them, even if they are one room shacks with 5 people living inside. Politely I decline and give them my phone number and contact information in hopes we’ll see again and move forward. Rolling hills but nothing steep to strain myself over which is a huge plus as I pedal off the effects of high powered medication, learning a new unit of measure, p/H (Pukes per hour). Yup, it’s happening multiple times, and I’ve now just given up on stopping entirely and letting it go while riding, using a bit of water to rinse my mouth when finished and slamming a piece of ginger in my mouth to suck on afterwards. Should be all over soon. Many people seem to be quite confused that I’m going up this way towards South Sudan, as the typical route is from Nairobi straight to Kampala, but I figured since I’ve wanted to get myself back into riding, exploring, and trying new things again, I figured a 900km detour would be worth while. Besides, what’s the rush?

A blessing in disguise came today, as I declined the 3 offers to stay in some ones house for the night, looking for some peace and quiet. I was riding along for 45 minutes in drizzling rain, spying churches (last resort, knowing that tomorrow being Sunday brings people in the morning), rest areas (hard to come by, but I found a chicken coop the night before that worked well to sleep in), and finally Schools, which always seem to have a stash of rain water and a roof to protect from the nightly downpours. It turns out I met a few teachers as I pulled in who were living on the grounds, who said I could pitch my tent under the aluminum roof, but I could also go inside if I wanted to. Right when they said this the clouds opened up and downed more rain than I have seen in weeks in one spurt, flooding the area. I made it within 45 seconds, and smiled as I wheeled my bicycle into the very modern school classroom. It even had two power plugs being unused! The power was out, but it eventually turned back on, allowing my components to start charging since they have been neglected do to the loose wires I mentioned above. So that’s that, nothing special, business as usual.Apparently the roads get better in a few hundred kilometres, whatever.

Elevation Chart

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