February 5:: Nouakchott, Mauritania
February 5:: Nouakchott, Mauritania :: 300km / 2284km total
I woke late, tired, leery of the wind howling outside my hut. I didn't look forward to another day fighting it. Wandering groggily out onto the open plains, I was surprised to feel it strong... and in the right direction. Already being 8 a.m. I threw everything together and got onto the road.
The road here in Mauritania is new, paved, flat and dead smooth... and the wind pushed me along it easily at above 30km per hour. About one hour into the ride, I realized that with some discipline and a bit of suffering (ok a lot of suffering) I might be able to make Nouakchott by dark. A cozy bed, a shower, all types of food and drink... the allure was too much to stand, so I spent some time laying out a game plan and setting myself mentally to the task.
Long distance touring cycling (particularly solo) is as much mental as physical, sometimes moreso. Sure, you have to be in good cycling shape, but to put in the big days takes more than leg muscles. You have to want it and believe in it, and every day in the Sahara for me has been previewed in my mind the night before, with whatif options worked out, food and drink timings set, etc. For the shot at Nouakchott I broke it down into 10 min intervals... cover 5km every 10min, and I would make it. Just keep knocking off those distance markers, dont get too excited or burnt out. Stops for drinks, clothing changes, or pee breaks had to be extremely short and rushed.
The wind was strong, and stayed that way. Many 5km intervals I knocked off in 8 minutes or less, around 37km per hour. About half of the ride was in a sandstorm... the wind whipped up the sand from both sides of the road and blew it down the road, with me. Roadside huts were closed, no one wanting to venture into the storm, but theres no storm relative to you if you are riding with it... sand lazily swirled around my feet and ankles. Only when I stopped did I get pelted and pricked with sand particles, as well as the few kilometres that the road would swing sideways to the storm, dead East or dead West.
100km from Nouakchott I knew I had it, even though I was beginning to suffer. Arms, shoulders, hands, neck (not to mention legs) and most of all, my butt, was taking a beating. Not only from today but from the accumulated wear and tear of nonstop 6 to 10 hour days of cycling from Laayoune. I kept the pace strong to the 40km mark but then fell apart (5pm). With sunset at 7pm I was fine, just ekeing my way forward, still with a following wind. Multiple police stops near town were annoying, and I think one guy was one the verge of trying for a bribe as he hmmed and hawwed over my passport, but Im well equipped for, and experienced with, such nonsense. Right at sunset I entered downtown Nouakchott.
I have to write to Lonely Planet because their Nouakchott map is completely inaccurate and I was lost as I searched for my target hotel. OK, maybe its because I was semidelirious from the efforts of an extraordinary ride, or maybe some of both. Either way, distance was added, bringing me to the 300km mark for the day. This ties my longest day ever, equal to the ride from Tobermory to Toronto that I did a few years back.
When I was shown the room my eyes glazed over at the sight of a flush toilet and a kingsized bed. I forced some food down and collapsed into bed, utterly, utterly exhausted.
I woke late, tired, leery of the wind howling outside my hut. I didn't look forward to another day fighting it. Wandering groggily out onto the open plains, I was surprised to feel it strong... and in the right direction. Already being 8 a.m. I threw everything together and got onto the road.
The road here in Mauritania is new, paved, flat and dead smooth... and the wind pushed me along it easily at above 30km per hour. About one hour into the ride, I realized that with some discipline and a bit of suffering (ok a lot of suffering) I might be able to make Nouakchott by dark. A cozy bed, a shower, all types of food and drink... the allure was too much to stand, so I spent some time laying out a game plan and setting myself mentally to the task.
Long distance touring cycling (particularly solo) is as much mental as physical, sometimes moreso. Sure, you have to be in good cycling shape, but to put in the big days takes more than leg muscles. You have to want it and believe in it, and every day in the Sahara for me has been previewed in my mind the night before, with whatif options worked out, food and drink timings set, etc. For the shot at Nouakchott I broke it down into 10 min intervals... cover 5km every 10min, and I would make it. Just keep knocking off those distance markers, dont get too excited or burnt out. Stops for drinks, clothing changes, or pee breaks had to be extremely short and rushed.
The wind was strong, and stayed that way. Many 5km intervals I knocked off in 8 minutes or less, around 37km per hour. About half of the ride was in a sandstorm... the wind whipped up the sand from both sides of the road and blew it down the road, with me. Roadside huts were closed, no one wanting to venture into the storm, but theres no storm relative to you if you are riding with it... sand lazily swirled around my feet and ankles. Only when I stopped did I get pelted and pricked with sand particles, as well as the few kilometres that the road would swing sideways to the storm, dead East or dead West.
100km from Nouakchott I knew I had it, even though I was beginning to suffer. Arms, shoulders, hands, neck (not to mention legs) and most of all, my butt, was taking a beating. Not only from today but from the accumulated wear and tear of nonstop 6 to 10 hour days of cycling from Laayoune. I kept the pace strong to the 40km mark but then fell apart (5pm). With sunset at 7pm I was fine, just ekeing my way forward, still with a following wind. Multiple police stops near town were annoying, and I think one guy was one the verge of trying for a bribe as he hmmed and hawwed over my passport, but Im well equipped for, and experienced with, such nonsense. Right at sunset I entered downtown Nouakchott.
I have to write to Lonely Planet because their Nouakchott map is completely inaccurate and I was lost as I searched for my target hotel. OK, maybe its because I was semidelirious from the efforts of an extraordinary ride, or maybe some of both. Either way, distance was added, bringing me to the 300km mark for the day. This ties my longest day ever, equal to the ride from Tobermory to Toronto that I did a few years back.
When I was shown the room my eyes glazed over at the sight of a flush toilet and a kingsized bed. I forced some food down and collapsed into bed, utterly, utterly exhausted.
posted by Graham Durrant at 8:08 AM
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