TdA Stage 40. The Joys of Northern Kenya.
84km. Bush Camp to Lava Rock Camp.
Today was about patience. Rocks. Gravel. Sand. Corrugation. There was no easy way through it. We just had to keep moving and try to find the humour in it (it's hard to see it, but it's there). You'd be hard pressed to find someone who would willingly bicycle this terrain but for a larger vision of crossing Africa, inch by inch.
Even the surroundings were dismal. A sort of scenic death. Just dead trees and volcanic rock. And 40+ dry heat. A visual representation of that black hole in my soul that I came here to fill. To see this day as spiritual is the best way for me to find value in it.
On a similar note...our camp is a cartoon of an oasis. In one direction, a festering puddle of cow shit and stagnant water. In another, a mirage from the heat waves hovering above the lava rock. Framed by a few thorn trees. Yes, trees formed entirely of thorns. How lovely.
The sounds of bedtime have shifted as we have moved south. Trucks. Muslim prayers. Donkeys. Hyenas. Tonight it is the sound of vomiting. By now, I can have figured out most people's signature sound. If my ears serve me right, that would be Steve and Sarge out there right now. May you, eventually, have a long and deep sleep, dear friends. Tomorrow is supposed to be another toughie.
Today was about patience. Rocks. Gravel. Sand. Corrugation. There was no easy way through it. We just had to keep moving and try to find the humour in it (it's hard to see it, but it's there). You'd be hard pressed to find someone who would willingly bicycle this terrain but for a larger vision of crossing Africa, inch by inch.
Even the surroundings were dismal. A sort of scenic death. Just dead trees and volcanic rock. And 40+ dry heat. A visual representation of that black hole in my soul that I came here to fill. To see this day as spiritual is the best way for me to find value in it.
On a similar note...our camp is a cartoon of an oasis. In one direction, a festering puddle of cow shit and stagnant water. In another, a mirage from the heat waves hovering above the lava rock. Framed by a few thorn trees. Yes, trees formed entirely of thorns. How lovely.
The sounds of bedtime have shifted as we have moved south. Trucks. Muslim prayers. Donkeys. Hyenas. Tonight it is the sound of vomiting. By now, I can have figured out most people's signature sound. If my ears serve me right, that would be Steve and Sarge out there right now. May you, eventually, have a long and deep sleep, dear friends. Tomorrow is supposed to be another toughie.
posted by tori at
7:20 AM
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