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January 14, 2020 by foonbikeride
Having accidentally overstayed our Kenyan visa (we had a month, instead of the 90 days we thought which was completely illegible on our visa) we were happy to be in Tanzania without having been relieved of any extra money. It was already dark, so a border official walked us over to a cheap hotel where we bedded down for the night. Our first impression was that both the hotel and the beer was very affordable.
Our route now was to pedal south and east towards Dar Es Salaam. We dropped down from the high plains surrounding Kilimanjaro, on smooth roads, surrounded by lush green. The rains had arrived and we were regularly soaked and muddy. Luckily for us, Tanzanian hotels are very affordable, and we were happy to spend a few dollars every night, rather than put up a damp tent in a field somewhere. It is very hard to dry out at all in the wet season!
"Top Jesus" we were highly amused by the trucks in Tanzania
Definitely in need of an umbrella!
So lush and green
Tanzania initially was rather soul sucking. After the thrill of whizzing down from the border, we were now faced with endless undulations, surrounded by rather dull monoculture sisal crops as far as the eye could see. Day after day we rode on the shoulder of a busy highway, wind in our faces, rain intermittently soaking us, pedalling over endless hills. Tanzanians don't speak as much English as Kenyans, so we were faced with a bit of a language barrier as well (we'd been a bit lazy with learning Swahili) and unlike Kenya, a lot of people tried to rip us off on food when we stopped to eat. This makes interactions with people a little tiring, and it gets my back up, which is not a pleasant way to be. On top of this, we were killing poor Lucy. Having spent the best part of a year on the bikes, Astrid and I were used to doing around 100km a day. While not new to cycle touring, Lucy had had a tough time over the last few months and was not at peak fitness. Nor had she or I discussed how many kilometres we did on average a day, a massive oversight on both our parts. All of us being cycle tourists, we'd made a bunch of unwise assumptions, which was now causing us issues. Not only because we had to meet Doug and Niovi in Zanzibar, but also for the rest of Africa. We needed to pedal around 100km most days to feasibly make it through, especially with the side trips. Most days Lucy had to get on a bus in order to make the kilometres. While she quite enjoyed the bus rides, and it was awesome that this was an option, we did feel bad that we had to make her do this, and she in turn felt bad that she couldn't pedal as fast as us. The camaraderie between us was great though, and we had fun in the evenings and mornings hanging out together, but on the cycling front we were proving to be somewhat incompatible at this stage in the game.
Endless hills
Saturated by the afternoon rain
So much sisal
It was a valuable lesson for us all; about the importance of communication and danger of making assumptions. And also about the dynamics of inviting someone to come cycle touring. When you are already on a trip, and invite someone along, it's a very different dynamic to when you meet on the road. With Craig and Clo and the Habibi's, we'd all been on our own tours already, with our own goals and route plans. We became a team because it worked at the time and we had all meshed together well. However, at the end of the day we were all independent travellers. While we looked out for each other, we didn't have the same responsibility one does when someone joins your tour. At any point in time, we could have left to do our own thing (like when Ewaut left for a bit, or Clo headed off on the bus) and while we made decisions collectively about things like food and short term destinations, we all had our own longterm routes planned.
Lucy was also a vegan, so we made the best food together
With Lucy it felt more like we were dragging her along (even though she was having fun), at a speed that was uncomfortable for her. Plus we had more or less decided which way we would travel through Africa, and being a couple who are used to travelling together we were probably quite set in our ways when it came to daily chores and the way we go about our day. I felt increasingly like I was being unfair to Lucy, but not knowing exactly how to change the dynamic. We needed and wanted to get to Zanzibar, having made a commitment months ago to be there. Lucy too, was having second thoughts, not only because of our speed issues, but a variety of different and personal reasons.
Towards clouds and rain
The last few days into Dar, Lucy went ahead by bus to go and figure out what she wanted to do. We put in big, long days, both of us not really feeling it. In many ways we just wanted to be in Zanzibar, the endless somewhat boring road was wearing on our tired souls. After some discussion we came up with a compromise; Dar and Zanzibar were side trips anyway, so we would ride to the turn off, and take a bus into the city. On our way out in a few weeks, we would take the bus back to the same spot, ensuring a continuous cycling line through Africa. Not that we cared that much, but we did care a little!
So many shades of green
The bus journey reminded me again why we had been so adamant at avoiding putting our bikes on transport this time around. We were instantly surrounded by men trying to rip us off, our bikes were then questionably secured on the roof (causing us anxiety the whole way) and although a price had been agreed, we then needed to argue about it again (like always). Then finally, the 140km journey took over 5 hours as the bus stopped every few minutes, driven at dangerous speeds in torrential rain. On the bus I also got an awful phone call from Lucy. She'd been a victim of a temporary abduction and assault. A guy had scammed her to get her into a taxi and then taken her to an ATM to clear out her account. This had not succeeded as she hadn't had her cards on her, but they had terrorised and assaulted her when she couldn't deliver. Eventually they'd let her go, relieving her of only her camera and a few dollars. At that moment speaking to her on the phone in that crowded bus, I hated Tanzania. Both Astrid and I were now desperate to get to Lucy and the endless bus journey was nerve wracking on another level. Of course we'd been mislead as well, and the bus didn't actually take us into Dar, like they had said. So at 7pm at night we found ourselves still 20km out of the centre, it was dark and the roads were narrow and completely suicidal to ride.
Drink stop
We spend a lot of time listening to podcasts
What to do? It was one of those moments where I realised how adept we are at traveling and how things rarely fazed either of us anymore. We went into a crowded market and I found a rich looking guy in a fancy car and asked him for help (cos I figured correctly he would speak english). Being Africa, he was only to happy to assist (it was a good reminder given Lucy's current circumstances, that on the whole Africans are incredibly kind). Within a few minutes he'd called a friend who came to get us (at a price, obviously). Soon us and the bikes were crammed into a makeshift taxi, whizzing towards the city.
"avocado rice" one of our favourites
Tanzania is hard.
Finally after more than 6 hours of travel we reached Lucy and gave her a massive hug. She was in remarkably good spirits, given her ordeal. We talked and talked, ordered room service and drank beers well into the night.
Lucy had already decided that she was going to fly back to Europe from Dar, before the assault. It just wasn't the right time for her to be traveling in Africa by bicycle. So the next day we helped her pack and organise her things. It felt sad to see her go, she really is a remarkable human. I think this experience with someone less amazing could have really gone badly, given all the hurdles we'd come up against. Even before what happened in Dar, the three of us had managed to negotiate a challenging situation with compassion, open communication and understanding. It wasn't anyone's fault that our cycle together hadn't worked out. And I think it showed a lot of strength and insight for Lucy to make the decision she did to go back to Europe. Not to mention how amazingly calm and philosophically she had dealt with the horrible abduction/assault. She really is an amazing individual. We promised each other that one day we would plan a tour together somewhere in the world.
Scrabble and beers on our final night together
It was now time to go and meet Doug and Niovi who had just arrived on Zanzibar. For weeks Doug and I had been sending each other screen shots of the weather in Zanzibar as the forecast had been more or less torrential rain. So I was pleased to arrive in Stone Town with blue skies and sunshine. It was the end of the wet season and we'd all been slightly concerned it would still be pouring.
Riding on the beach, Zanzibar
Most days were like this..
Many hours were spent in this pool
We found Doug and Niovi by the pool of their hotel and there was a lot of excited hugging. Niovi had only met us once or twice before when she was really little, but it wasn't long before we were all playing together in the pool. And this was pretty much how we spent the next two weeks. I've never been on holiday with a 4 year old before, but it was awesome. Niovi was so much fun. We played in the pool and the sea, went for walks, played more in the pool, danced, played games, read books and watched amazing sunsets. At night Doug, Astrid and I drank too much vodka and caught up on life. The weather was mainly awesome. After a few days of rain, the skies cleared and we had hot sunshine and blue skies. One night we built a fire on the beach and got pizza delivered (to the beach). Another day we went snorkelling. But mostly we just hung out and played in the pool. It was very relaxing and a lot of fun. Doug had kindly treated us to an amazing villa for a few of the days, which was complete bliss. Zanzibar is an incredibly beautiful island and it was such a treat to just slow right down for a bit.
So much fun with these two
Beach walks
Beach fire
Beautiful sunsets
Hmmmm Vodka?
More beach walks
Stone Town walks
Niovi's artistic impression of our holiday
More blue
Dreamy susets
Night sky loveliness
Pool or sea? Hard choice.
Our amazing temporary home
One can never get sick of this view!
Watching green fairy maintenance (:
Astrid and I were sad to see Doug and Niovi go, but grateful they had come to see us, and for their friendship. We pedalled back to Stone Town and celebrated one year since leaving London. It was now Eid, so Stone Town was full of celebrating families and we enjoyed the night market and energy a lot.
View over Stone Town
Stone Town is known for its doors
More amazing doors
amazing architecture
Exploring the backstreets with Lucas, another cyclist.
Sunset beers and one year on the road
Night Market, Stone Town
Sunset fun, Stone Town.
From Stone town we headed back the the main land via the cheaper night ferry and spent a few days with a Warmshowers host, Elaine and her two lovely kids. We needed some time to re group and prepare for the road ahead, mentally as well as physically. In many ways it felt like we were about half way, from here we would be heading southwest to Malawi and into southern Africa.
The road awaits
But first a small break
And some lunch
By the time we began to pedal again the wet season was well and truly over. It was hot and sunny and fruit was on sale on the side of the road. I actually need to mention the food in Tanzania. While the diet in the local cafe's remained pretty dull and nutritionally lacking – cooked to death beans, ugali and chips, the availability of fresh food was wonderful. Markets were brimming with avocados (about 10p each), tomatoes, bananas, papaya and pineapples. Oh and you could pick up freshly cooked chapati for a couple of pence. Needless to say we lived off avocado and tomato wraps, fresh fruit, and we even began to make avocado chocolate mousse. When we cooked for ourselves we were certainly eating like queens.
From the coast we headed inland and through our first national park where we saw elephants. That was a huge highlight, seeing these humungous creatures chilling under a tree, ears flapping in the afternoon heat. We also saw giraffes and a myriad of different antelope which made us grin from ear to ear. From the national park (Mikumi) we climbed up and into a wondrous valley of baobabs, and then higher up to the fertile plains around Iringa. Here there are many huge farms, and we had the fortune to be invited to stay at one. Our friend had put us in touch with a friends of hers; Mark and Mel and this is where we now headed.
Fine for animals
Elephants!
The amazing baobab valley
Coffee and tree happiness
We arrived in the dark and woke up to this
They look a bit like ancient spirit people..
They were absolutely wonderful people. Mark was one of the managers at the farm and the first thing he did was give us a box of veg to eat. While we had already been eating well, Tanzanian's (and everywhere else we'd been too) seem to have a habit of all farming and selling the same products. You can be riding along the road and see 10 stalls all selling onions. Or tomatoes. Or avocados. While you can get a lot of things, there isn't a huge diversity. So to have baby corn, mushrooms, cucumber, broccoli and cauliflower was a massive treat.
All the vegetables!
Exploring the farm
Beer o clock
Our days soon went like this: wake up, copious cups of tea. A hike around the farm. Breakfast. Discussion about what dishes to make. Recipe research. Bread baking. Food prep that went all day, interspersed by cups of tea. Sunset beers on the balcony. Cooking. Amazing dinner. Hanging out together, reading, or finally watching Fleabag. Repeat. Needless to say, it was hard to leave. Mel and Mark are super amazing people and the time with them gave us the normality we didn't know we'd been craving. It gave us a kind of peace we hadn't experienced for some time.
Tea and reading
Awesome breakfast
Mark and Mel who looked after us so well
Traveling in Africa, and traveling in general is of course amazing. We are so privileged that we get to do this (and also we've made unconventional choices about how we want to live life) but it doesn't mean that at times we aren't challenged. Africa especially can be confronting and wearing on the soul. Not only are you the centre of attention in most places, but you are very aware of your own privilege. You can't hide from it and it's inadvertently pointed out to you at many opportunities. You are often asked for money and after months, it can feel a little dehumanising. I don't know exactly why, but Tanzania was a our down point. Having had friends join us, and the sanctuary of Mark and Mel's had also highlighted some of what had been lacking; community, normality, friendship. In a place where you are understandingly always viewed as 'the other' this was something we had deeply and unconsciously missed. Perhaps it was somewhat more intense for Astrid and I; being a same sex couple in a continent that has some of the most violent and ingrained homophobia, is on some level quite exhausting. We'd never felt threatened, but had to constantly police our behaviour and wonder how we would be perceived if people knew.
I have a pineapple!
We may have left Mark and Mel's with slightly heavy hearts, but like all things, this too passed. It was interesting how difficult leaving had been; psychologically we'd been dreading going out onto the road but within a few days we were back in the swing of wild camping, buying delicious fruit and veg from the market, laughing with locals and climbing up into the mountains. It seemed that our rest really had cleared our souls as nothing was as hard as we had imagined it would be.
For our final leg of Tanzania we had decided to head high up into the mountains onto the Kitulo plateau. It was some of the best riding we'd done, and certainly the best in Tanzania. For days we climbed, along dirt roads, through smaller and smaller villages until we were finally high above the clouds. We made a point to wild camp right up on the plateau and it was certainly up there with picturesque spots we'd slept in.
Towards the mountains
Heading towards Kitulo, some of the most beautiful riding!
Hard work, but so worth it!
For roads like this!
High above the clouds
Slightly misty
A choice spot to camp
Contemplating the descent
After our brush with the clouds it was a heady descent back to sea level and the Malawian border. Unfortunately, Tanzania wasn't quite done with us. The day we were to pedal the last leg to the border, I was struck down (again) with some god awful stomach issue involving endless fevers and diarrhoea. Luckily we had antibiotics and while I lay around waiting for them to work and feeling miserable, Astrid brought me food and drinks and was generally awesome. After two full days of living in a rather dim and depressing cheap hotel, I had recovered and it was finally time to bid Tanzania farewell.
Finally leaving the hotel!
We wooshed passed beautiful tea plantations down towards Lake Malawi and Southern Africa, excited and thrilled about what lay ahead.
Posted in Africa	| Tagged Africa, cycling africa, cycling cairo to capetown, cycling tanzania, kitulo national park, makumi national park, zanzibar | 2 Comments
November 1, 2019 by foonbikeride
Kenya obviously came with a massive sense of relief. We had survived Ethiopia. I have rarely been so happy to leave a country. The same slight sense of nervousness of the unknown still accompanied me over the border, however there was little feeling that it could be any worse than what we had just encountered. And Kenya was certainly probably everything and more than we had hoped for. The feeling of space and peace we felt wild camping with not a soul around that first night was immense.
The riding days were still hard, at least physically. This is Kenya's northern frontier, a vast expanse of desert like country, sparsely populated by the Semburu (a people related to the Masaai) of whom many live a nomadic existence based on cattle herding. It's hard country, very dry and very hot with water often two days walk away for the cattle. The people eek out an existence on the meager fertile land (especially right now, in a drought) and we were told on more than one occasion that many Semburu carry AK47's and that they sort out their own disputes, with very little (or no) police involvement.
"Areti's hotel for delicious food" we were sold. It was indeed delicious.
Not much out here but camels and cattle
The hardest part of this frontier ride for us was the wind and the water. We were hit by ferocious, hot, cross winds that slowed us and made riding tough, and water is also harder to come by. It is so dry out here that it is common to see children and adults standing on the road holding out water bottles and shouting for water from passing trucks and cyclists. We barely had enough water for ourselves and were shocked to see the basically large puddles of brackish water that constituted the people's drinking water. We too collected our drinking water from these brown puddles, but unlike the locals we could double filter ours. It's hard not to feel that some simple water harvesting techniques such as water tanks for storage and guttering for roof run off could make a world of difference. Especially when we saw that government places like police stations had exactly this.
They were not joking!
We took it in turns to break the wind
Warm beer was common in Kenya, sadly.
This is how we all felt just prior to arriving in Marsebit
By the time we reached Marsebit, we were all quite shattered and in need of a rest day. Henry's Camp was a true oasis and possessed hot water and the cleanest bathrooms I'd seen in months. We recuperated with beer and plenty of food. None of us particularly wanted to leave, but Astrid and I had signed up to do a Vipassana meditation retreat in Nairobi and needed to get there. Craig decided to join us on the cycle south.
Day off breakfast beers
This place was such a haven
Henry's camp, such a sweet spot
The next few days were marked by long hot days in the saddle, sweet milky tea and chapatti breaks in tiny restaurants, camping behind pubs and even an invite to a Semburu house for lunch. Everyone was super friendly, and almost everyone spoke English. It was a joy to be able to communicate in a more meaningful way and learn about the lives people lived out here.
A foggy descent from Marsebit before more heat
South of Archer's Post, the old colonial frontier, things began to change. There was less of a wild west feel and more development. We began to climb towards Mount Kenya; the area became much greener with fenced farms and fruit for sale on the side of the road. Rolling into Nanyuki we got a reverse culture shock; coffee shops, supermarkets and all the trimmings of modernity. And also something else. Something that took us a while to put our finger on, but which revealed itself over the next few weeks – Kenya in places, especially Nanyuki and later Nairobi, felt in many ways still so colonial. Many white Africans lived in beautiful homesteads (or houses), mostly sheltered from the everyday hardships of modern Kenya. A lot of old British traditions still linger on, and having just lived in England, it felt in many ways, quite British. I guess for us Kenya was also the first time we'd come in contact with white Africans and there was a stark contrast between how they lived and most Africans we'd come in contact with so far. Not to mention the fact that everyone has a maid, gardener and nanny (or a variation there of). You don't actually have to be rich to have help in Africa, in time we met people from all walks of life, many middle or even lower middle class families who had hired help. There is no doubt that in a country where unemployment is a huge issue, that this gives valuable income to people. I guess it's just so different from how we grew up, and on some fundamental level makes me uncomfortable. Over the next few months Astrid and I were probably constantly annoying various maids by trying to be helpful. I think we just need to accept that we can't make a bed that well! Anyway, I have massively digressed! In Nanyuki, in a supermarket carpark we were lucky enough to meet Joost (who enlightened us on many quirks of Kenya). Joost, originally from The Netherlands has lived in Nanyuki for 20 years and very kindly invited us to stay in his garden. His home is gorgeous with views of Mount Kenya, surrounded by trees and flowers. We all sat on his porch that first night, sharing food and wine and felt so very fortunate. Joost is such a kind soul, and let us store our bikes and panniers while we headed to Nairobi for the meditation retreat the following day. Craig stayed behind to work on his blog and rest and we would find him in much the same position two weeks later.
Joost and Eveline who kindly took us in
As we had run out of time to pedal, Astrid and I took a metatu to Nairobi. These are mini buses that leave when they fill up and are incredibly affordable. The driving can be hectic, but no more than other parts of the world we've been in! Once in Nairobi we took a local bus out to where the meditation retreat was going to take place.
On a metatu
A typical shop in Kenya, buying delicious avocado
Pedalling around Nayuki
What followed was an incredible 10 days. Astrid had already done one Vipassana retreat in the UK, but for me it was new. It was quite different to the one we'd both done in Thailand back in 2014 and I found it very rewarding. We meditated for 10.5 hours a day, starting at 4.30am and finishing around 9pm. Astrid had suggested that by fully committing I would get the most out of it. So I took her advice and I am glad I did. It was incredibly difficult at times, but so rewarding. I especially loved the secular nature of it and the humour with which Goenka uses to teach this very valuable skill. At the end I felt like I had had a mental health reset and was filled with even more enthusiasm and joy for life.
Sleeping quarter's at the retreat.
Having completed the retreat, Astrid and I took two days out to relax. We rented a small cottage and treated ourselves to delicious food and some time alone together. It was a great way to not only process the meditation retreat, but also the last 6 weeks of craziness that had been Ethiopia.
Our awesome cottage
Enjoying the luxury of our own space and a kitchen
Delicious breakfast
On our return to Nanyuki we were happy to discover Craig was still at Joost's place and we all decided to leave together. The rainy season, although late, had started to hint at arriving and we left under moody, heavy skies. Our route was not direct, as we wanted to avoid the main road into Nairobi and Craig was headed further west to Uganda anyway. That first day was particularly memorable as we got our first glimpses of giraffes and signs that elephants were about (although we didn't see any actual elephants). Our lunch was shared with a Masaai guy herding his cows. Just another day in Kenya.
Saying goodbye to Craig was sad and we all hoped our paths would cross again further down the road. Astrid and I continued on alone, sometimes on main roads, other times on dirt tracks as we slowly made out way to Nairobi. We got super excited at our first proper sighting of zebras and nearly lost our shit when we a saw giraffe cross the road in front of us. It was a joy to be out in the Kenyan bush, seeing all these amazing animals. One morning, after wild camping in the bush, we saw some zebras meander by as we drank our morning coffee, meeting all our fantasies of cycling in Africa. The rains did eventually find us just after we swept down into the very impressive rift valley. We sheltered in a crowded restaurant and ate hot chips, waiting for the storm to pass. That night it was too wet and populated to wild camp, so we asked at a police station (which is the norm for cyclists in southern Africa). We were not disappointed. The kind officers gave us a dry room in which to pitch our tent (luxury by our standards) and the next morning the boss invited us in for breakfast. It was interesting to hear his opinions about Kenya, while overall he felt things were moving in the right way, it was sad to hear that while very educated, many Kenyans face unemployment and that subsequent alcohol issues prevail in many rural villages.
Kind of a milestone
Looking out over the Rift Valley
Looking for wildlife
Such a good road – no cars
Zebra!!
The long way to Nairobi
Beautiful skies
Bush camp happiness
Happiness in camping in the bush
Looking at a monkey creeper
Outside the police station
Inside our hut
Police boss
We continued to get intermittently wet as we made our way down to lake Naivasha, a popular tourist spot for foreigners and locals alike. Unfortunately I had become ill – some kind of stomach problem associated with fever and opted to go the short way around the lake to the campsite we had decided to stay at. For hours I battled shitty roads and rain, going so slowly that Astrid who had ridden much further (and seen giraffes) only arrived 20 mins after me. At least there were hippos grazing right by the lake that night. We could hear them munching from our tent!
The equator! Another milestone
Giraffe!!
Lake Naivasha
The watery sunset
Night hippos!
Making food at Lake Naivasha
We could have stayed at Lake Naivasha for days, but we were running out of time to get to Nairobi as a friend from England was soon to arrive to join us, and Vero who we were staying with and wanted to see, was only around for a short time due to work and family commitments. So, rather reluctantly we pushed to probably ride the worst 90km either of us have ever ridden. It was more or less okay until we had to climb out of the Rift Valley and then we were faced with the most fucked up driving I've seen since Iran. More than once we had to abort into the gutter. The road was narrow and full of seemingly suicidal truck drivers who would over take on double lines while going up hill on blind corners. It was harrowing and not helped by having to take ibuprofen or paracetamol every two hours to stop my temperature from spiking, a lack of energy from being ill, flat tubes and the encroaching dark. We rode the last 20km through the outskirts of Nairobi in the dark, fearing for our lives from the horrific traffic. People always come up with all kinds of reasons why Africa is dangerous – people, animals, crime, etc, but in reality, like everywhere else on the the planet, it's deranged humans in metal boxes that are the most lethal.
Before the insanity, riding with Lake Naivasha in the distance.
We tried some back roads but were stopped by fences
Fixing a flat
Some of the stupid driving
I was so slow and struggled all day
Contemplating the beauty of the valley and near death
Reaching Vero's felt quite momentous for a variety of reasons. Mostly it was just wonderful to see Vero and Gabe again. And probably because I was ill I very much appreciated being enveloped by all the comforts we usually happily go without – soft bed, hot shower, cats, oven, couch and wifi. Our time in Nairobi was spent resting, making food, hanging with cats and catching up with various friends – some that we'd made at the retreat, as well as other cyclists. Particularly exciting was meeting up with Evan – a touring cyclist we'd crossed paths with in Albania in 2015. We had a wonderful time with him and his partner Megan, which included a pizza and movie night with Gabe, as Megan had also stayed with Vero in Dushanbe when she lived there. Small world! Lucy also arrived, which was exciting and we all prepared for the next leg of cycling.
Being thoroughly spoilt in Nairobi by one of Vero's colleagues, Pauline.
First washing machine since Aswan (Egypt)
It was great to finally meet Tristan, a fellow cyclist we'd been talking to on whatsapp in person for beers
One highlight that needs mentioning, and where photos will speak louder than words, is the Nairobi National Park. We were so lucky to be taken there by Pauline(a friend of Vero's) one Saturday morning, and it is simply incredible how many wild animals live in the vast park so close to the metropolis of Nairobi.
We were not ready to leave Nairobi, it's the kind of city you could lose weeks in. Not only because there are things to do, but it's the kind of place that attracts many people and is kind of a melting pot of expats and travellers. Also, because Astrid and I were still a bit tired – that kind of long term fatigue that sneaks up on you gradually. We could have spent a week reading, watching films and making food. However, we had a date with Doug and Niovi in Zanzibar and two weeks to pedal there. So, slightly reluctantly (although looking forward to Zanzibar) we hit the road south.
And then there was three!
First however, we had a date with Patricia and her friends in the Ngong Hills. We'd met Patricia at the meditation retreat and she was a fellow vegan – something very rare in meat loving Kenya, and had invited us for dinner. It was one of the loveliest evenings and Patricia made the most amazing food.
Such amazing food
From the Ngong hills in the south of Nairobi we headed towards the Tanzanian border and the iconic Mount Kilimanjaro. We'd chosen a more off the beaten route which skirted Amboseli National Park – again due to Kenya's incredibly high park fees, we did not visit, but enjoyed seeing the wildlife which doesn't actually recognise the park borders. At night we camped in the bush, or next to people's huts, or once on the roof of a pub. Kenyans are friendly and we felt incredibly safe and welcome. We snacked in local restaurants and were overjoyed to find cheap avocados and an abundance of chapatis. It was fun traveling as three and the rain mostly held off (although a nasty headwind began to slow our progress).
A 'Hotel' in a typical place to eat
Beans and greens
Cooking breakfast
Camping next to a families huts
Astrid playing with the kids
One of our camp spots. We couldn't resist the grass
On the roof of a pub
Soon we began to see the momentous Mount Kilimanjaro on the horizon, signalling our end to pedalling in Kenya. For me, this has been one of the loveliest countries to cycle through. People are incredibly friendly, it's beautiful and safe (in our experience) and there are back roads to explore and animals to see. We both hope to return one day.
Last tea before the border
Kili under the clouds
Kenya was an absolute pleasure
Posted in Africa	| Tagged Africa, kenya, nairobi, vispassna, wildcamping | 4 Comments
October 20, 2019 by foonbikeride
Our route south
Our group had now been reduced to 4 and we still had several days cycle to make it to Addis, which we were all very much looking forward to. Our route dropped us down into a vast and fertile valley and it grew hotter. The four of us got along really well, and it was easy (well as easy as Ethiopia can be). Our days consisted of making sure one of us didn't whack an Ethiopian child (who was hurtling rocks at us), cold beer stops, avoiding injera (we had all had enough of it by now), negotiating hotel rooms (we sometimes had to pretend we were two straight couples), pimped up two minute noodles and more cold beers. Moments that stand out during our ride into Addis include; a hotel room that was so filthy (blood stained sheets) that Astrid and I slept on the balcony and the guys put their tents on the actual beds; eating chip butties on the side of the road; getting drunk and laughing endlessly in one of our rooms (while cooking two minute noodles); climbing up a beautiful pass that was lined by eucalypts and reminded me of home; the kindness of a family in whose hotel we stayed in at the top of the epic climb, and sailing into Addis so ready for a few days break.
Early mornings are best
It is such a beautiful country
A beautiful fertile valley, such a contrast to the dry north.
Pedalling through a village
View as we climbed
Reminds me of home
The road upwards
Beers at the top
Selfies on the descent
Reminds me of Scotland!
Cyclist's in the mist
Where we slept when the room was too gross
Breakfast stop
Beers outside the friendly hotel
Avoiding injera
Festy bed on which tent was pitched
Ethiopia wears on the soul like no place I have ever visited before. Addis however did prove a short reprieve. We treated ourselves to a hotel that had hot water and working wifi (most of the time), drank delicious coffees in a hipster café, ate (vege) burgers and the best samosas I've ever encountered.
Hipster coffee happiness
View of Addis from our hotel
Gelato happiness
Dimitri also arrived back in town, after a short break in Europe, bringing with him treats from France, as well as treats Craig had ordered for everyone to share (thanks guys!).
Craig, the bearer of many gifts
My favourite memory of Addis is of drinking cheap wine and helping Ewaut cook up a massive couscous dish for all of us (Craig, Clo, Arthur, Dimitri, Astrid and I) in the slightly festy kitchen of their hotel. We ate it on the roof, along with cheeses and French wine,(thanks Dimitri and Craig) laughing and trying to make sense of Ethiopia, and discussing onward plans. Later we caught a bus to see some jazz, accidentally crashed a brothel and stumbled home around 6am. It was the blow out I think we all needed.
Cooking happiness
The couscous mater chef
Getting into the couscous
Ewaut's amazing couscous
Wine on the balcony with Clo, Dimitri and Craig
At a jazz place. We look like we are a advert for a weird sitcom
Soon it was time to leave, which meant a heartfelt goodbye to Ewaut who was heading back to Belgium to begin work on his sailing boat. I have no doubt he will manage this and our paths will one day cross again (he's promised to come pick us up in his boat!). I will miss Ewuat a lot; his facts, humour and podcast/tech genius, and just the fact that he is an all round awesome human. Thanks for a brilliant three months man.
Outside of favourite cafe before leaving Addis
Ethiopian church, Addis Ababa
Our ride south towards the border with Kenya disintegrated rapidly in a way only Ethiopia can. We'd been warned the south was worse; and it was. There were people everywhere and I felt like from the moment I pushed down on the first pedal stroke, to when I wheeled my bike into a crummy hotel room at night, there was abuse. People (adults and children) shouted; 'you, you, you!!' aggressively, we were chased by kids who tried to grab stuff off our bikes, or put a stick in our spokes, or simply scream 'give me money, give me pen!' At one place some men grabbed my arse (I lost my shit and they eventually apologised) and in another village a woman punched Astrid. Not all of it was aggressive, but a lot of it was.
On the road doom south
Virgin power, virgin pride!
As I pedalled I wondered if this was some kind of universal karma for being white and middle class? For daring to pedal through a country, displaying my relative wealth? I have no idea. I keep grappling with the why. Why is it so difficult here?! I don't believe people are inherently bad or anything. I can come up with partial reasons; poverty and lack of education for sure, although having now travelled in countries poorer, or just as poor, where the kids don't throw a single rock, it can't just be this. Then there's the fact that Ethiopia suffered a devastating drought in the 1980's and was subject to much international attention and although diverted by the army, subsequent international aid. Do they simply see foreigners as a source of endless 'stuff' given to alleviate our western guilt? And then there's also the myriad of agencies like USAID, Oxfam and various Christian charities that operate here, possibly leading to the assumption that foreigners exist to do something for you. There are many people in Ethiopia that simply stand on the side of the road holding out their open hands when we pass. And at some point some tourist (or worker?!) must have given out a nation worth of pens. I want to have a serious conversation with that person or people.
Everyone is curious about the weird foreigners on bikes
Craig, ever patient, chatting to a child
One could argue that we have caused at least some of these issues. If I was an Ethiopian child in a village, used to seeing foreigners come and do things for my village, or give me stuff, I'd be miffed too if some rich gits on bikes came through and didn't give me the sweeties I'm accustomed to. Or the sweeties my parents told me they used to get from the white people. For this is certainly generational. Twenty years ago cyclists were having rocks thrown at them by Ethiopian children too. Those kids are adults now and their kids continue the same behaviour. I might sound harsh; maybe I am. While I am not against all aid, I do think charity is problematic (at best). Sure, if there's a crisis like an environmental disaster, or famine, the international community certainly has an obligation to assist. What I have a problem with is top down charity; well-meaning rich people or organisations giving, or doing things for people, without proper consultation or collaboration. I think it's offensive and disempowering to the people that are being 'helped' and doesn't address the deep rooted systemic issues of inequality, and it's very often not sustainable. I am by no means an expert; these are just my observations combined with some reading I've done on the issue. Plus my belief in solidarity, not charity as a guiding principle when trying to assist those less fortunate than ourselves.
Outside a hotel
A typical scene from a village. The children can be cute and curious, but also demanding and irritating.
So it was some of these issues that I pondered while being chased by rock throwing children and jeering adults. Ethiopia certainly tests you. Your humanity and patience, not to mention compassion. I was worried before I came here that I would crack; chase some rock throwing child into his home in a rage and be stabbed by his father (this actually happened to a cyclist). Or maybe just get so upset that I would have to leave. Neither of these things happened however. I think I managed to keep my compassion and humour most of the time, and while tested for sure, I didn't entirely loathe my time in Ethiopia. I found it challenging for sure, frustrating, tiring, annoying, confusing and down right exhausting. But somehow I still felt the adventure of it all, and the fun of travelling as a group. This certainly helped a lot. Also, by the time we were riding towards the Kenyan border, I knew how Ethiopia in most parts, worked.
Ethiopian coffee is awesome.
Buying papaya
A typical town
All the bread ever
Craig prepares a 'traveller'
Party in our hotel room
There is something about the human condition that finds comfort in familiarity, no matter how unfun that familiarity can be at times. I knew everyday I would face a certain amount of harassment, which would be tapered by a few friendly interactions. The food was familiar; I knew what I liked and how to order it. I knew the prices of things and where to buy vegetables. At the end of the day I knew what to expect of hotels, that there would be an inevitable battle for Astrid and I to share a room, but that it would be cheap. The water might not work, but someone would bring us some. Best of all, I knew there would be beer. Perhaps this sounds crude, or alcoholic, but I took massive comfort in the fact that at the end of the day the four of us could debrief over beers. I like the taste of beer, but it was more than that. It was something familiar from all our cultures in this often confronting and difficult country. In many ways it felt like debriefing after a hard day at work with people who understand and have shared your experience.
Beer time. Again.
Camping in an empty room of a full hotel.
Coffee and beer coping strategy
One and only broken spoke
Warning: break dancing ahead
Bin donkey
Preparing dinner outside a hotel room
Creepy statue outside a hotel
So we bumbled our way south in this manner, cracking our first beer at lunch time (or sometimes before) and ending our day eating pimped up two minute noodles (a bad habit started in Ethiopia) on the floor of some less than fancy hotel. Some days were better than others; one night, after having refused to pay the outrageous price to camp by a lake, we stopped for afternoon beers at a bar (which was really some guys house) and then asked if we could camp there. We gave him a donation and he and his lovely family let us pitch our tents under a shelter and even brought us a table and chairs to use (not to mention beers).
Would have been awesome to camp here, but they wanted an outrageous price
So we ended here instead. Would rather give money to a family anyway.
The 'Bar' aka someones house (:
whooo hooo beer time!
Another day we stumbled upon Odd, while looking for hippos. Odd was a Norwegian guy who had married an Ethiopian lady and was trying to set up a camp. He warmly welcomed us to camp by his VW's and spend an afternoon relaxing and watching hippos. It was our first encounter with African wildlife and we were all rather excited. We decided to take a day off and enjoyed relaxing and Astrid gave the guys awesome hair cuts.
Unfortunately after the brief reprieve of the hippos, we encountered the most harassment we had faced so far. One town in particularly was awful; screaming, people trying to grab at us, or our stuff, children chasing us and just a generally very aggressive energy. This wasn't helped by the torrential downpour we encountered while pedalling through, adding to the feeling we had reached some kind of end of the world apocalyptic village. Once we reached the outskirts we all kind of looked at each other. I think we had run out of words. Even for Ethiopia that had been bad.
Beer coping strategy
Clo needed to meet his dad in Kenya and wisely decided to waste no more of his time pedalling through Ethiopia, which by that stage was causing us all various emotions from rage, to confusion, to despair. It was sad to see him go. Our group of four had been fun, and an antidote to the insanity that can be cycling through Ethiopia.
Going to miss Clo
Astrid, Craig and I pushed on towards the border and I am pleased to report that things started to improve. Children still chased us up hills yelling for pens, but the aggressive vibe began to change. The 'you, you, you!' felt more like a greeting, then a threat and the population also thinned out as we reached the beginning of the Great Rift Valley. We would follow this epic geographical feature all the way down into southern Africa. The vistas really were beautiful and we even managed to wild camp twice before the border.
South bound
A much more peaceful Ethiopia
A beautiful sunset, things getting less hectic as we approach Moyale
A rare wild camp in Ethiopia
By the time we reached Moyale on the Ethiopian side however, we were all very much done. I felt my temper really fray negotiating our last hotel room (which was an epic struggle and overpriced), had a melt down of the price of beer and food and snapped at anyone who was remotely annoying. I knew I needed to leave for my own sanity. I think we all felt the same. We spent the last of our Ethiopian birr on beers (which felt fitting) and then slowly rolled towards the border.
We are nearly done! Last day breakfast in Ethiopia
We can see Kenya!
Kenya, I am so ready for you.
Posted in Africa	| Tagged addis ababa, Africa, beer, bicycle traveller, cairo to cape town, cycle touring, cycling ethiopia, ethiopia, velosmith, wild camping | 2 Comments
September 16, 2019 by foonbikeride
One of the many beautiful roads we cycled in Ethiopia.
For decades Ethiopia has been notorious amongst long distance cyclists due to stone throwing children and aggressively begging individuals. In the weeks leading up to our arrival, people relayed their recent experiences on the Cairo to Cape Town WhatsApp group; a head injury due to a rock being thrown from the ledge above; the relief felt after the fear of having been locked in a room for a prolonged time and a man with an AK47 opening the door with aggressively yelling people around him; an attempted robbery and assault; and military escorts due to escalating tribal warfare and one of the these escorts being attacked too. It sounds crazy while I am writing this, that despite all of these reports we were still willing to cycle in Ethiopia. Our choice of crossing at the remote Lug Di border into the Tigray region was influenced by continued reports of civil unrest around Metema. We rationalised with ourselves that as a group of four we should be less of a target for abduction and random violence, and that wearing our helmets could prevent potential head injuries. Before arriving we would often chat about how we wished our time in Ethiopia could/would differ from other people's experiences – that it would be a pleasant and fun experience, how much we wanted to love the country and the people that lived there. I can honestly say that when the time arrived, we all crossed the Lug Di border with open minds and hearts.
With my helmet on, I am optimistic about our cycle through Ethiopia.
It was another 25 kilometres of riding in the scorching afternoon heat along a mostly deserted road, until we could see if our hope had been misplaced or not. Pulling into the first place that looked like it served food and perhaps the highly anticipated cold beer we had been dreaming of for weeks in the Sudanese desert, we were not disappointed. Plates of injera (the staple food of Ethiopia – giant pancakes made from fermented grains) were prepared and consumed, as were numerous cold beers and strong coffee. Our presence had drawn attention, but it was the curious and friendly type. Those who spoke English asked us about our trip. Those that didn't still shouted 'faranji' as we cycled by and groups of children would run to the road shrieking and waving madly for our attention. A group of children followed us out of town on their bikes and we enjoyed their friendly chatter and cycling camaraderie.
Our first plates of injera – the local staple.
Excited to have our first cold beer since Egypt.
Drawing a friendly and curious crowd.
Our cycle escort out of town.
After another 25 kilometres we arrived in Humera where we were to register our arrival in Ethiopia with the immigration office (Lug Di is such a small border that they don't officially register your arrival there). We spent an hour riding around town searching for the office and by the time we had received reliable information as to its' location, office hours were over. We booked into a cheap guesthouse and freshened up for the night before hitting the town for more cold beer and injera. Humera had a relaxed, friendly and unassuming vibe – and we liked it. The next morning we did register ourselves as having arrived in Ethiopia and no one minded that it was a day later. The rest of our time was spent doing all the things you need to do when first arriving in a new country – cash, SIM cards, food supplies, washing clothes, eating, drinking coffee – the usual.
Enjoying a coffee break.
Appreciating cold beer.
Relaxing of an evening in Humera.
One of the many tasty meals we ate while resting.
Over the next 5 days we cycled from Humera to Shire along the small northern road that ran along the Eritrean border. It was desolate and beautiful. After the flatlands of Sudan our eyes feasted on the mountains that loomed on the horizon. Drawing ever closer, they appeared as giant monoliths that looked ancient and weathered. Our thigh muscles burned happily, cycling on the first hills we had experienced since arriving in Africa. A hot sun beat down on us and we felt as dry as the earth that was a stark parched yellow, devoid of anything but the occasional tree. As we moved from the flatlands into the mountains the housing changed from wooden buildings to stone ones, reflecting the natural materials available for construction.
Enchanted by the boababs.
A typical farmhouse with goats.
The housing changed as different building materials became available.
Brightly coloured churches are everywhere in Ethiopia.
Enjoying the hills.
Many modes of transport.
Dropping down into another valley.
Typical streetscape.
As this is road is rarely visited by travellers, our presence in the small villages would draw everyone from their homes. We would rest, eat and drink, being watched by hundreds of eyes, mesmerised by our presence. Having been a teacher at one stage in his life, Martin was excellent at engaging with the kids. He'd play with them, joke around, they'd pull back with uncertainty and then shriek with laughter when they understood what his intentions were. The one adult that spoke English (usually the school teacher) would be found to engage with us and translate for the village, answering who we were and what we were doing there. The teenagers and young men continued to ride their bikes with us from the village for a few kilometres and then with a wave of the hand they would turn back leaving us to the empty road ahead.
Everyone would come out of their houses on arrival in a village.
Martin was great with the kids.
Whatever we did would draw a crowd.
On that rare occasion when we didn't have a crowd.
There was always a farewell group of watchers.
With the region being so sparsely populated, we were able to wild camp for a few nights, which we enjoyed. Consistently being the centre of attention was tiring and at times overwhelming. This feeling of needing our own space would grow exponentially as we entered the more densely populated areas of Ethiopia, but for now it was just a pleasure to be free to set up camp and cook dinner in nature, watch the sun set, listen to music or a podcast and then fall asleep with the stars shining above.
Wild camping.
Sunset over our camp.
But for me not all was well. I had been experiencing intermittent left hip pain since Greece and this was now increasing in frequency and severity. In Humera I had developed angular cheilitis around the side of my mouth, which was spreading to my cheek and chin. And two days out of Shire I developed the symptoms of fatigue, insomnia, fever, reduced appetite, epigastric cramping and nausea. I knew how sick I was, but in the age-old struggle of the long distance cycle tourist, I must admit that I still wanted to cycle every kilometre of our journey. So I ignored my body and pushed myself on. Fortunately the others took pity on my stupidity and we agreed to shorter cycling days with increased rest breaks. On the first night we pulled over early and camped in the beautiful grounds of a nunnery. I had no energy to look at the intricately and brightly painted church and sat exhausted on a log surrounded by the white robed, elderly nuns. Despite the poverty they lived in, they glowed with kindness, generosity and a spiritual exuberance. My feelings were in stark contrast to their energy.
All churches draw a crowd as religion plays a large part in Ethiopian society. (Martin's photo)
Our camp at the monastery – also draws a crowd.
Our guard for the evening – photo courtesy of Martin.
Our next rest days had been scheduled for Aksum, one days ride from Shire, and home to the ancient Aksumite kingdom and as legend has it – the of the Ark of the Covenant. Still weary with illness and lulled into a sense of security by the beauty and kindness of the last week, the shock of the first begging and screaming was shattering to me. The high pitched "you, you, you", followed by "pin, pin, pin" (actually pen mispronounced) followed me the whole way from Shire to Aksum. Where and why this changed occurred befuddled my fevered brain, but even when the sickness passed I could still not figure out what made some villages/areas immune to begging and others rampant with it. I continued with my friendly smiles and waves, and apologised to everyone for my lack of foresight in packing my panniers full of things I needed for my journey and no "pins" for them. Then came the first rock. Again I was not expecting it. I saw a small boy, perhaps 5 years old, running towards me like many small boys had over the previous days. Thinking nothing of it, I waved and called out the local greeting of "Selam". Just as I passed by him, he launched a fist-sized stone at my head missing me by half a metre. I slammed on my breaks, spun the bike around and started yelling abuse at this child. I dared him to throw another at me while we were face to face. He was running back to his house to hide, his face pale and legs visibly trembling. Neither of our finest moments in life, that's for sure.
The closer we got to Aksum, a town frequented by tourists, the more intense the begging became. "You, you, you. Money, money, money." "You, you, you. Pen, pen, pen." "You, you, you. Give me … (insert money, pen, books, your bike, something/anything!!)" Cycling in through the poorer local section, before getting to the business and tourist district, one could see that this was indeed a town divided by socio-economics. Martin had already found a hotel for us and I was so happy to collapse into a clean bed next to a functional bathroom. And there I remained for approximately the next 24 hours as the bug I had progressed to the bum water stage (eek…).
Main street of Aksum.
Riding through town.
The stelae of the ancient Aksumite kingdom.
The waters.
Feeling good enough to have a beer – kind of.
Exploring Aksum by bicycle.
While convalescing, Ewaut and Martin let us know that they would both be heading their own ways. Ethiopia had been Ewaut's dream destination and he wanted to do some solo riding in the mountains. Time was of the essence for Martin and he felt he couldn't wait for me to recover. So after 7 weeks of cycling and love, the habibis would be disbanding. I felt like we were losing part of our family and my heart was sad. We had travelled so well together, each of us had brought something unique to the group and we had supported each other through many challenging situations. Despite this sadness, it felt like our little family had come to a natural conclusion. We all had our own paths ahead of us, and this was exciting. The habibis would always be there, both in our memories and in real life on the end of a phone or another cycle journey in the future. Ewaut and Martin, thank you for the amazing and crazy times that we shared, this journey was enhanced by your presence, and your friendship and love will always be remembered.
Sunset over Aksum.
Our farewell beers – the end of the habibis (for now).
Looking at the map, we chose to forego the main road and take the more direct route through to Lalibela. Having come out the other end of my illness, I was ready for the freedom of cycling again. Arriving in Adwa we turned south on to the newly paved secondary road and at Sele we turned south again on to the dirt road that would lead us the whole way to Lalibela – 260kms away. In hindsight, this was one of the toughest sections we have cycled. We relished the remote and desolate surroundings, the exceedingly hot and dry climate, and the challenge of climbing thousands of metres on bad roads. The stark natural beauty was some of the most spectacular of the trip so far. What pushed me beyond my limits was the people. For every positive interaction, minutes later we would have a greater opposing interaction. Leaving every village, large groups of children and teenagers would mob us, begging, mocking us and eventually the stone throwing would begin. Luckily their aim was bad most of the time, but we both ended up with bruises from when it was good. Despite being malicious, the rock throwing always involved cowardice as it was always done when our backs were turned and they would run away immediately when challenged. On one particularly bad occasion we were followed for 5kms up a hill (so we couldn't out cycle them). Being harassed and threatened with violence for that long is harrowing. Eventually we gave up, sat down and hoped to bore them into leaving. But children with nothing to do, have a high boredom threshold. Then to complicate my frustration and rage, before eventually leaving us, a small group came up and offered us the remainder of their lunch. Recalling this day still brings tears to my eyes.
The kids would have a fun time with us and then throw rocks as we cycled away.
Ewaut messaged us with photos of himself with a head injury from a rock being thrown at him from above. Only two days ahead, this was the catalyst for the partial reformation of the habibis. En route to him we stopped for beers with the men of one village. They had also met Ewaut and were mortified to hear about what had happened. The headmaster of the local school was so distressed and subsequently worried about our safety that he ran next to us for 6 kilometres, slept at the same monastery we camped at and woke with us at 4am to wave us off and see that we had left his district unharmed. Our 4am start in the dark felt necessary as we were climbing into the highlands that morning and the thought of being harassed while doing such a big climb was too much. We trundled through villages, our presence only being noticed by dogs and sheep. In the predawn light we marvelled at the beauty of the landscape below us. For the first time that week a small sliver of joy entered my heart and I knew that the depression I had sunk into was not all encompassing.
Sharing beers with the local teachers.
Exchanging hats.
Pre-dawn looking down over the valley we just climbed out of.
Looking back.
Jude making her way up and up.
First light hits the mountains.
Further along looking down another valley.
Ewaut spotted us from a distance across the valley and came out to greet us. Chatting excitedly, we appraised his stitches and laughed at how the beret he had found in the Sudanese desert covered the injury nicely. Still a bit shell-shocked, we all needed a few days of peace and Sekota was a nice little town that provided the space. We relaxed, ate big plates of salad and pasta, and enjoyed fresh fruit juices. Together again, we cycled in a small pack, each watching out for the other. Not far out of Sekota we stopped to explore Wukir Meskele Kirstos, our second rock-hewn church along that road. The priest guided us around the small carved church with 6 pillars and colourful paintings dating back to the 13th century. The skeletons of the local kings and chiefs since its construction were in residence, as was an underground tunnel that supposedly led to Aksum in one direction and Lalibela in the other.
Catching up with Ewaut at the side of the road.
The most exciting meal I had eaten in months 🙂
The habibis partially reunited.
Inner entry to Wukir Meskele Kirstos.
The priest next to one of the colourful pillars.
The painted pillars.
The priest in front of the room where the remains are kept.
Stopping for lunch in Asketama village, we had a timely reminder about keeping our eyes on our belongings. We usually choose a restaurant that we can sit outside of to keep an eye on our bikes. As we had had no issues thus far with theft in Ethiopia, we thought nothing of sitting just inside the only restaurant that appeared open and trying to keep an eye on our the bikes that were parked just outside. With our attention diverted by food and the hilarity of Ethiopian music videos (men jiggling about in tiny shorts and shirts covered in buttons, AK 47s slung over some shoulders), we missed the gathering crowd outside that was hiding the youths that were stealing our belongings. At least a hundred people saw them doing it, but only the family who ran the restaurant said anything to us or them. By the time we had reached the police station, one of the two youths was already in custody. Within 20 minutes a second youth was in custody and our belongings were returned to us. We made a statement and were then told that we had to remain in the village until the court case tomorrow afternoon. "Not a chance", we replied, thanked them for their help and cycled out of that village as quickly as possible. After another 30 minutes riding, my handlebars began to slip and I realised that as I had nothing of value to steal from on the bike, they had attempted to steal my handlebars.
Our bikes are already drawing a crowd in Asketama village.
Jude thanking the police officers for getting our things back.
Due to my increasing despair and depression, I had no inspiration to take photographs while cycling and I stopped keeping my daily diary, as I did not want to relive the trauma of each day. Instead I lived each moment and then forgot it, the rhythm of cycling and the beauty around me giving me reprieve from the ever burning question of 'Why?'. The problem is so complex, I could not come up with an adequate answer. The adults would tell us that it was due to the fact that the children were illiterate and uneducated, excusing them with one hand and throwing a stone at them with another, as they were getting too close and boisterous. Slowly I began to see how violence was entrenched and normalised in the culture, and concentrating on this I lost sight of the kindness that was present too. Luckily I had Jude to remind me of the value of perspective.
I lost sight of the beauty and kindness that was around me.
It was not just Jude that kept me afloat at this time. It was also the acts of kindness and decency from the handful of amazing adults that we met, such as Abebe (our couch surfing host in Lalibela), his friends and family. Abebe's house in Lalibela was an oasis for us, removed from the main tourist area, it was surrounded by trees and birdsong. He took us to his favourite places in town, shared his story, hopes and dreams, and gave us space to explore Lalibela in our own time.
Some of the people that showed us kindness – an invitation for coffee as we cycled by.
Abebe's house where we spent a relaxing weekend.
Jude and Abebe at his favourite breakfast cafe.
Abebe's extended family had us over for dinner and drinks on our last night.
The 12 rock hewn churches of Lalibela were the reason for our visit. Unlike the churches in Tigray, which are carved into the rocks above the ground, the churches of Lalibela were carved into the rock below. Legend has it that they were completed in 12 days, one of them overnight by a group of angels. I spent two afternoons wandering through the labyrinth of tunnels and the dark interiors of the churches, awestruck by the work and dedication that went into creating such a place. On Sundays the churches are still used and it was interesting to see all the locals and pilgrims dressed in white gathering around the buildings, the preachers giving sermons to the masses. Religion plays such a large role in Ethiopian society, culture and history.
The incredible churches of Lalibela.
The guys we had met and left in Khartoum were gaining on us, so we had organised to meet up in Weldiya and travel together until Addis Ababa. The morning we meant to leave Lalibela to meet them, Jude was struck down with a tummy bug. With 108kms to cover that day, and now being in a more densely populated area resulting in no privacy when squatting on the side of the road, we convinced her that getting a lift that day would be the best thing. The difference was palpable and it made travelling through the landscape and especially the towns much more enjoyable. I could now see why people on package tours would not find the country all that challenging. It was only if you stopped that the shrieks would begin and you would be mobbed. As we were cracking our first beer in our lodgings, Craig, Clo and Arthur arrived. It was great to see them all again. That evening we sat on the balcony, drank beers and exchanged stories about how messed up travelling by bike in Ethiopia is. There was again talk about ethnic tensions ahead, so we agreed that sticking to the main road would be the safest and fastest option for our route to Addis.
First beers with the guys in Weldiya.
The crew of 6 getting ready to go.
Ready to hit the road. (Photo courtesy of Craig)
As we had found when travelling in a group of six in Tajikistan, the greater the number of cyclists, the greater the number of styles and speeds of touring. Collectively our usual number of kilometres covered daily dropped, our morning leaving time blew out and our rest breaks were longer as we were waiting for more people to arrive at the same place. Despite this draw back (Jude and I now had a specific time to get to Nairobi as we had been accepted on a meditation retreat there) there was something thoroughly enjoyable about travelling in this new group. Negotiating accommodation was also sometimes interesting for us. We found that if the hotel was run by Christians, they would have a huge problem with people of the same sex sharing the same room and bed, but no issues with us drinking beer at the establishment and the locals bringing prostituted women back to the hotel. If the hotel was run by Muslims, they would have no issue with people of the same sex sharing a room and bed, but the consumption of alcohol was prohibited, but chewing chat and locals bringing prostituted women back to the hotel was also fine. The religious and cultural nuances would humour and infuriate us to no end.
Cycling together is fun.
Time for lunch and beers.
Clo and Craig.
Ewaut and Jude.
Another rest break.
Coffee and doughnuts.
Got to love fresh papaya.
The soon to be 'Smash it to Kenya' group.
From Lalibela onwards the scenery was changing dramatically. It was more lush and green, and when we began to drop down into the different valleys along the route, the feeling was at times almost tropical. Rain clouds began to gather in the afternoons and during our epic descent from Dessie to Kombolcha the sky opened up and we were drenched in our first rain since we left Athens the previous December. There was something exhilarating about dropping 800 metres over 20 kilometres, rain pelting our faces and bodies as we lent into every corner and switchback. Steam rose in clouds off the road and mini streams formed across our path. A hot coffee and a cold beer were the perfect finish to such a ride. It was also the last stretch of road that we would ride together as a team of six. Ewaut had chosen to catch a bus to Addis from Kombolcha as he no longer enjoyed riding in Ethiopia and wanted to spend time in Addis listening to live jazz. Arthur had come down with a stomach bug in Haik, and despite being a trooper and pushing on to Kombolcha, his diabetes added to his increasing dehydration and symptoms of dizziness and weakness. After starting with us for the first 10 kilometres out of town, we received a text message from him that he felt too sick to continue and that he would stay for the rest of the weekend in Kombolcha to recover. And that left four. The 'Smash it to Kenya' group was born – we had a beer and coffee.
Posted in Africa	| Tagged aksum, cycle touring, cycle touring ethiopia, cycling ethiopia, cyclingethiopia, ethiopia, lalibela, northern ethiopia | Leave a comment
June 20, 2019 by foonbikeride
Wadi Halfa to Lug Di
Sudan felt almost immediately different. Although we were delayed in disembarking from the ferry by at least an hour, as they had somehow managed to ram it into the dock in a rather obscure way, meaning no one, and no one's washing machines could get off.
Finally getting off at Wadi Halfa
Pleased to be here
I decided to take a short cut
Lots of stuff coming from Egypt
When this was finally rectified, we joined the masses in piling off the ferry. This was an exercise in unorganised chaos, but eventually we got everything unloaded. A quick search of our bags (not very thorough) and we were finally in The Sudan. We pedalled the short distance into Wadi Halfa itself, where we had to register at the police station (a load of more random paperwork, passport photo and copy of passport). Once that was achieved we set about getting Sim cards (note to anyone reading this who is planning to go there, at the time we visited MTN had almost no coverage outside of major towns, I would consider going with ZAIN). When that was done, as well as some drinking of mango juice, we set about finding a hotel for the night. The arrival of the ferry is a big event in this small, desert town and hotels book up fast. We did manage to find one in the back streets however.
Night time food, Wadi Halfa
Banks don't work for us in Sudan. Cashed up with Sudanese pounds.
In the evening we walked around Wadi Halfa and took in the atmosphere of this new country. We are definitely in the desert now, surrounding the town are the sands of the Sahara, with shimmering lake Nasser in the distance. The vibe is completely different to Egypt. So much more relaxed. We were able to walk through the town without being hassled, stared at, or asked for money. I felt like I could breathe again. People were friendly, but not overbearing. Not all of Egypt had been like that of course, I guess it was just the accumulation of stress and frustration over the last few weeks. Sometimes you don't notice how much a place has worn on you until you leave it.
Typical tea/coffee stand in Sudan. Definitely more women working here.
The four of us left Wadi Halfa in high spirits, ready for the long stretches of solitude and desert. After Egypt I was craving the wild places and the space to just be alone. I was not disappointed. The road south was lightly trafficked, the trucks that did pass were full of waving and smiling people, and we felt very welcome in this new country. The highlight for me was the end of the day, when we pulled off into the desert and built a fire, surrounded by nothing but the Sahara and some low lying hills. Sure, we could hear the road a little, but the sense of freedom and nature was palpable.
Leaving Wadi Halfa
Happiness headstand
Drink break
Our days pedalling south started early, we'd break camp after a quick breakfast and coffee. Second breakfast was at one of the road side tea houses, which served fuul (fava beans in a broth, sometimes spiced a little), bread and hot, sweet chay. The food in Sudan was filling, but not particularly variable! We'd push on and take tea breaks almost whenever the opportunity presented. The road was hot and sparsely populated, the tea houses offered relief from the daily increasing temperatures (and beds on which to rest!). Water became a big part of our day, well drinking and sourcing it anyway. Luckily Sudan is very well organised when it comes to water. The side of the road is doted with ceramic pots full of water for everyone to use. Just another way Sudan's friendliness extends into all aspects of life. It's hard not to feel welcome in a country like this. Just before sunset we'd pull off the road and make camp in the desert, usually with a little bit of time for yoga, meditation and generalised relaxing before building a fire and making dinner all together. At night we'd stare at the sky and try and recognise the stars. Beetle juice became a favourite.
Typical water pots
Lunch time in a shelter where you can also resupply with water
Fuul cooking
More water pots
Really feeling the Sahara vibes
A typical meal in Sudan
Such beautiful landscape
I wish! Sudan is dry, sadly.
A magical time of day to be on the bikes
Looking ahead for camping opportunities
Definitely prime wild camps
Campfire happiness
Another super camp
On one day Astrid and I lost half the Habibi team. We'd met up with tour d' Afrique, an organised cycle tour between Cairo and Cape Town. For many weeks we'd heard about them, trying to guess when our paths would cross. Anyway, while cycling and chatting, Martin and Ewaut completely missed our agreed turnoff. We had all decided to go to the other side of the Nile to see Soleb temple. The Egyptian influence reached far beyond what is now modern day Egypt, into Nubia (this region of Sudan). Astrid and I pedalled into the dusty Nubian village of Wawa alone but were soon found by a local guy who said we could store our bikes at his guest house while he arranged a boat for us. This coincided with arrival of Israa and Van who we had met on the ferry, as well as Oscar who they had met further down the road. Israa speaks Arabic, so after some negotiation, a price was agreed and we all trudged down to the Nile. It was so beautiful; date palms, fields of fava beans, and the shimmering Nile. One of those 'I can't believe I'm really here,' moments.
Pedalling through Wawa
Walking passed the fava fields
We motored across the Nile and then walked the remaining way to Soleb temple, rising out of the landscape in an almost mythical way, this piece of beauty from the ancient world just sitting their amongst the fields of fava beans. It was amazing to explore a temple so devoid of other tourists, or touts. Sudan is such a gem for this. On our way back to the other side of the Nile, we even spot the rather shy Nile crocodile.
Boating across the Nile
First glimpse of Soleb
From Wawa Astrid and I now had to find the lost habibi's. We bade Israa, Van and Oscar farewell, sure that our paths would cross again, and began to pedal. We surmised that somewhere along the road we would find them. And indeed we did. They greeted us with open arms about 50km up the road and we all hugged excitedly right in the middle of the highway. It felt so good to be reunited and highlighted to us all how much we loved travelling together. From here we rode a little further down the road and ran into the Tour d'Afrique team, camped on the bank above the Nile. They kindly offered us the left over of their dinner (everything is catered for) and we gratefully tucked in.
Taking a break on a rock
Loved these beds, available in tea houses to wait out the heat of the day
Happiness is a free dinner!
Sudan is scattered with temples, pyramids and archaeological sites, and part of its charm is that there are nowhere near as many tourists, nor is it as easy to get to. Travel feels more like an adventure here, more off the beaten track, and I like it. Because Astrid and I are slight dorks, we dragged the others to Dukki Gel, an ancient Egyptian city, to explore the really interesting rounded mud brick structures that were scattered in an unassuming field. We also visited to the site of Kerma, an ancient Nubian settlement with the largest mud brick structure (western defufa) in the ancient world.
After this we had a choice; to continue on to Dongola on the main highway, or take a detour to Karima to see some pyramids. Ever since we had seen a photo of Neil (who we cycled with in China and Central Asia) camped by some Sudanese pyramids, it had been a dream of ours to do the same. Everyone else was on board too, so we stocked up on water and supplies and headed deeper into the Sahara. Until now, although at times spread out there had been enough places to get food and water along the road. Now there was only one place we had been told we could collect water until the town of Karima 150km away.
Desert fashion
Finding a small amount of shade for lunch
Something is dangerous!
Camels chilling
Heading towards Karima also meant turning into a ferocious cross wind – we rode in a fan like formation, swapping out the leader every 5km and rotating around. It was hard going, but working as a team took the pressure off somewhat. And playing music really loudly from Ewaut's speaker. The temperature also soared – well into the 40's and it became even more desolate and harsh. Not much survives out here; a few derelict buildings, long deserted, some mobile phone towers, and petrified bits of wood. Not much else.
Riding in formation to help with the crazy cross/headwind
Tough going out here
Riding into the wind
Love it. Nothing out here.
Astrid and the salmon
I love these buildings.
We did indeed find water and some shade after about 80km and gratefully refilled. In the evening we pulled off into the desert to make our camp. It really felt like the Sahara now, I could see sand dunes, which weirdly, although we've crossed many deserts, haven't actually been that common.
The following day we reached Karima in the late afternoon, restocked and headed to the pyramids on the other side of town. There was almost no one there when we arrived – just one local who looked like he was maybe guarding the place. I think he was trying to tell us we couldn't camp there, but as the sunset and the call to prayer reverberated through the valley, he too left. So it was just us Habibi's and the pyramids. We found a spot not far from them and set up camp. Dream of sleeping next to pyramids realised.
Headstand happiness at Karima
Astrid and the pyramids
Pyramid posing
From Karima we rode towards Khartoum, looking forward to up coming rest days. On one particularly dark and moonless night, we decided to all get naked and dance in the desert under the stars. Ewaut, ever the DJ had a perfect mix ready, and even Martin, slightly hesitant at first, partook. There was something about being in socially conservative countries for the last two months that had gotten to our psyche. There was something so liberating, just being with other humans, dancing under the starlit African desert sky. It was somehow something my soul had really needed.
We woke one morning to a ferocious dust storm, thankfully the wind was at our backs and propelled us on to Khartoum. Our entry into the Sudanese capital coincided with the build up to the revolution. We saw a lot of security, evidence of the protests, but no violence or protests as such. None of us ever felt unsafe, either. In fact we just continued to feel welcomed, like we had everywhere else in Sudan.
Testing Ewaut's super porridge
Ewaut and I were delighted to find this!
Desert picnic
Washing wherever we can!
The kettle is always on in Sudan.
Astrid creates a lot of interest writing in her journal
Curious boys in a tea house
Fuul. Again.
Ewaut has the best sense of style
Typical desert shelter
Wind break out of bikes and panniers
Our short break in Khartoum was relatively busy. We needed to apply for our Ethiopian visa, wash clothes and meet up with other cyclists. Ethiopia is the most difficult country to cycle in (rock throwing kids for starters) and has a horrible reputation. Arthur, another Cairo to Cape cyclist had started a WhatsApp group for those of us who were going to be in Ethiopia around the same time. Most of us were in Khartoum at the same time and we all met up one afternoon to discuss plans. I'd actually been chatting to Craig – a British cyclist – since Cairo on WhatsApp, so it was cool to finally meet him. Craig was on a similar route to us – London to Cape Town. There was also Clo who'd cycled all the way from France through Iran and Oman, Dimitri who was on an epic human powered mission, and Arthur from Belgium who is a insulin dependent diabetic and is interviewing diabetics as he travels. It's always great to meet up with fellow cyclists and we had a lot to talk about. We weren't sure if we would all pedal together as such, but it was certainly good to meet and talk, especially as we all had different bits of information about Ethiopia.
tea on the street, Khartoum
Khartoum at night
Washing our bikes at the Blue Nile Yacht Club
Exploring Tuti island which sits in the middle of the Nile in Khartoum
Tuti Island
Can't really tell, but the white and the blue Nile meet just behind us
Bike gang – the habibi's plus Craig and Clo
Riding around Khartoum
We can still cannulate! Using our paramedic skills on a sick Dimitri.
Heading out of Khartoum
Aside from route planning and generalised chores, Martin had a contact in Sudan who soon became a friend. He and his wife took us for coffee on the banks of the Nile and for a party BBQ at their home (complete with home brewed alcohol!). It was brilliant to spend time with them and it saddens my heart greatly that none of us have heard from them post revolution. The Internet in Sudan is currently shutdown and the situation appears to have deteriorated with the security forces attacking peaceful protesters.


WordPress is, undoubtedly, one of the leading platforms when it comes to building a website. However, with the advancement of technology. New WordPress alternatives have emerged, comprising unique and enthralling features. Therefore, there is no need to stick to the older version when you have a lot to experiment with. But, before taking the plunge, it's essential to consider the positive and negative aspects of a platform to draw up a firm conclusion.
So, here are the top 15 alternatives to WordPress that shouldn't be missed at any cost. But, before that, let's know a bit more about CMS.
CMS stands for the Content management system that deals with the creation and modification of the content digitally available on the web. This platform has the ability to integrate several users under one window. Moreover, it includes a variety of features. Such as Search Engine Optimization, online documentation, etc. So as to carry out an effective functioning of your site.
There are various types of CMS available on the internet. And, each one of these has a distinct set of features and uses. Broadly, there are two types – the first being Open Source CMS and the second is Proprietary CMS.
Here are the 15 popular alternatives of WordPress that you can use in order to deal with your content management.
Joomla is free. A multi-based platform which is based on the model-see controller web application system. As of now, with a massive number of clients close by, it will command its the fourteenth year of foundation in 2019.
Much like WordPress plugins, Joomla can be extended in its functionalities with extra expansions in particular segments, modules, formats, dialects, libraries, documents, and bundles. This way, Joomla can help you build your website with all the essential features.
Joomla services are available without any cost. However, there are some web hosting charges involved that you may have to bear.
It's an open-source CMS that you can use to convey an increasingly yearning advanced understanding. For the most part, Drupal is recommended for specialists as it gives you a chance to make online journals, individual sites, and even long range interpersonal communication locales and is one of the best WordPress alternatives in the market.
While some modules and topics expand the highlights and looks, beginners discover it somewhat tricky when it comes to designing a website. However, the unpredictability of Drupal is suitable for dealing with tremendous measures of information. This makes it perfect for relatively more prominent corporate institutions.
The Drupal platform services are available for free of cost, but you might need to take care of the web hosting expenses involved.
Craft CMS is yet another successful platform for a broad framework. Some real instances of its implementation are Netflix and Salesforce sites. Although, it turns out to be a considerably more difficult CMS stage that gives restrictive back-closures to your sites. However, it's a highly adaptable and extensible platform that can cater to the needs of your content management. Moreover, it enables you to set up your own content type utilizing 18 unique kinds of fields.
If you're building a solo website to entertain your hobby, you can do so for free. However, for professional use, you'd have to pay $299/per project. And, if you have a massive enterprise, the charges will be different. You can get in touch with customer support to know the same.
Shopify is an astounding option that enables an effortless development of online stores. It's a straightforward, secure and stable platform where you can begin and develop your business with extremely less exertion.
Being very adaptable, it empowers business visionaries to concentrate on their items and the expansion of their brand. Moderately simple to control, Shopify utilizes and offers several free and premium subjects to look over. What's extraordinary is that Shopify additionally provides the client with the alternative to selling their items through internet-based life, by incorporating a Buy Now feature.
The price of this platform varies from a range of $81.50 to $2033 every month, depending on what you choose from available options. You can also pay annually and biennially. And then, Shopify also provides a 14-days trial to satisfy you enough before you spend the money.
It's a facilitated web-based business arrangement that enables clients to set up their own online store and sell their stuff. It's adaptable and empowers business owners to utilize the services and make a perfect stage for their business, be it a learner or a specialist.
It additionally incorporates applications to enable you to get your site fully operational. Even though it's not as cutting edge as other CMS platforms, the blogging capacities of BigCommerce are quite extraordinary. You get an option to use various payment gateways with this one along with the ability to sell physical as well as digital goods on your website.
The plan options have different variants that go on from Standard ($29.95/month), Plus ($79.95/month) to Pro ($249.95/month).
Wix is presumably a standout amongst the easiest to understand CMS platforms out there. It utilizes the "What You See Is What You Get" editor which makes the entire procedure much less demanding.
Another astounding thing about this platform is that it empowers the clients to enliven writings and different components. This, unquestionably, adds to the productivity and captivating element of this platform.
Wix has come up with a variety of prices; ranging from the basic free services to the package of $25/month.
Another one on the list is Weebly, which is a completely smoothed online webpage builder that allows the clients to make and assemble the perfect website effectively. The "Drag and Drop Page" makes the procedure as simple as a breeze.
Weebly has a conventional measure of stunning subjects to look over and alter. The tools are for the most part, super easy to understand and simple to pursue. Basically, Weebly makes an entirely incredible alternative for WordPress and is reasonable for smaller sites.
There are two variants, one is the free version, and for the premium package, you'd have to pay $25/month.
Contrary to most platforms, there is no free version of this. The packages range from $8/month to $24/month.
Being a NodeJS based blogging open-source platform, this one was structured particularly with the end goal of making the procedure of web page development a seamless job. Not just it's readily available but light-weight as well.
Adequate for beginners, bloggers or anybody hoping to make a basic, luxurious and straightforward to-oversee site, Ghost can be an excellent alternative for WordPress to fulfill all your requirements.
The basic version of this platform can be accessed for free. However, its excellent variety can cost you up to $200/month.
Medium is one of the fastest developing platforms that are competent enough to provide cut-throat competition to WordPress or any other CMS alternatives. It's anything but problematic to use and comprehend. Furthermore, this platform also includes built-in social networking feature. Along with that, its integrated stats functionality lets you keep an eye on the traffic that is engaged with your blog.
The basic version is free, but the access to the premium features would cost you $5/month or $50/year.
In case you're searching for a visually gorgeous alternative to WordPress, PageCloud is for you. Its remarkable modifying knowledge has set high standards for WYSIWYG and drag and drop altering. With PageCloud, you can include and reposition pretty much anything on your pages.
Even though it probably won't be the best decision for locales with several pages, it gives proprietors full command over their sites without the need of composing any code.
This platform has divided its packages into two different categories, monthly and annually. They can cost you $24 and $240 respectively.
Moving further, this one can be considered as one of the effective alternatives to WordPress for websites or blog maintenance. Tumblr enables you to submit short-structure content, such as short blog entries, articles, pictures, recordings, etc., and distribute it on a microblog.
You can similarly associate with different bloggers on this platform and have better communication with the experts of your domain and like. Tumblr is an expedited content management solution that gives you a sophisticated space, required to run a microblog.
Tumblr is a free web-hosted service and doesn't cost you a penny.
Talking about Jimdo, one of the most amazing features of this platform is that it uses AI-powered technology to help you create a site or a blog within three minutes. Moreover, it even offers users with unlimited bandwidth and storage space. It's streamlined design and structure would be enough to make you stay for an extended period.
The basic version of Jimdo is free of cost, and you'd need to pay $21/month to use the premium package.
Expression Engine is another considerable WordPress competitor. Thanks to its as it offers real-time preview option amidst everything else. With this alternative, you have the ultimate freedom to spark creativity.
There is no concern regarding privacy as it's known to be highly secure and safe making it WordPress alternatives. It's one of the fastest open Source CMS that claims to keep you on the safe side.
ExpressionEngine comes with a one-time single payment of $299. Apart from this, you can also avail its free trial to assess its features.
Built on Microsoft .NET technology. Umbraco is a perfect CMS WordPress Alternatives option for those who're deeply engraved into .NET advancements. However, if you're thinking to use it as a personal blog, you might have to look out for something else as it doesn't fit the suit. It's the best option for organizations and those running large websites.
This friendly open-source platform comes with three different packages. Starting from $28.24/month. You can choose the best one according to your needs and requirements.
Each of these alternatives to WordPress platforms offers something special. It all depends on your use and needs. A CMS can be best for your content if it aligns with its interest. If you are just starting, make sure that you are not choosing a complex platform to work.


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text:
Q: Why does "prayer" end with -er? Why is the noun form of pray "prayer"?
Typically, -er is tacked onto the end of verbs to denote a person or thing that does the verb. Hence, print(er), compute(r), write(r), watch(er), do(er), etc.
Alternatively, the noun of the verb to denote the verb itself is often the same base form: address, change, stare, prey, etc.
However, pray(er) does not follow either of the above two trends. Prayer does not denote a person who prays; and pray cannot be interpreted as a noun.
Checking the etymology of both pray and prayer on etymonline.com, they both start at the 13th-c. French verb prier, but with no further indication of why one acquired the -er ending.
Is prayer unique in this sense? Or are there other nouns with an -er ending that similarly don't follow the trend of denoting person or thing that [verbs]?

A: It ends in ‑er because it mostly started out that way, and that aspect of it did not change.
The OED says that this word was initially a direct borrowing from French, and that its etymon was the Norman French word praere. They attest an incredible number of variant spellings for this word in Middle English. Just take a gander at how many different historical approaches there have been! As Greg Lee mentioned in comments, the spelling we now use today ended up being the luck of whatever of those super-many spellings in manuscript form that the early printers decided on for printing.

ME praeyer, ME
  praior, ME praiyer, ME
  prayeer, ME prayeere, ME
  prayȝer, ME prayur, ME
  preere, ME preȝeer, ME
  preȝere, ME preieere, ME
  preier, ME preiere, ME
  preiȝer, ME preiȝere, ME
  preire, ME prer, ME
  preyeer, ME preyer, ME
  preyere, ME preyȝer, ME
  preyȝere, ME preyor, ME
  preyour, ME preyowr, ME
  preyur, ME priere, ME–15
  praer, ME–15 praiere, ME–15
  praire, ME–15 prayere, ME–15
  prayor, ME–15 prayour, ME–16
  praier, ME–16 prayr, ME–
  prayer, 15 prayar, 15
  preyare, 15–16 prair, 15–16
  prayre, 16 praijer, 16
  prai'r, 16–17 pray'r, 18–
  prar (English regional (Shropshire));
  U.S. regional (southern and south Midland) 18
  pra'r, 18– prar, 19–
  praar; Scottish pre-17 praer,
  pre-17 praier, pre-17 praiere, pre-17
  praire, pre-17 prayair, pre-17
  prayar, pre-17 prayare, pre-17
  prayeir, pre-17 prayere, pre-17
  prayier, pre-17 prayour, pre-17
  prear, pre-17 preir, pre-17
  preyer, pre-17 preyere, pre-17
  preyir, pre-17 priar, pre-17
  pryer, pre-17 17– prayer.
  N.E.D. (1907) also records forms ME prair, ME
  preir.

Sure was convenient when people actually spelled things the way they said them, now wasn't it? So, do you like any of those better than the one we use today? :)  You can be sure that whichever one you pick, the fellow in the next village will have chosen another one. Happy days.
They list as its etymology the following:

Anglo-Norman praere, praiere, preire,
  Anglo-Norman and Old French preere, Anglo-Norman and Old French,
  Middle French priere, Old French preiere entreaty,
  petition, request, act of praying, words uttered when praying (first half
  of the 12th cent.; French prière) < post-classical Latin
  precaria (see precary n.); the sense development to 'entreaty,
  request in general' may already have occurred in post-classical Latin;
  compare post-classical Latin precaria call to prayer (1305 in a
  French source).  Compare Old Occitan preguiera  (c1200),
  pregueira (13th cent. in an isolated attestation),
  pregaria, Italian preghiera (a1250), Spanish
  plegaria (13th cent.), Catalan pregària  (13th cent.).
  Compare precary n.

And give the following etymological note:

Monosyllabic pronunciations are suggested by metre from c1600,
  although disyllabic pronunciations are occasionally recorded in verse until
  at least the mid 17th cent.

So we've had the one-syllable pronunciation in poetry since the end of the 15th century, but the two-syllable version could nonetheless still be found through at least the middle of the 17th century, if not later.
That means that the two-syllable pronunciation was still being used when the printed form got frozen forever.
Never Forget
Remember that English spelling today represents only Middle English pronunciation from half a millennium past, not that of current English. Spellings were locked down long ago, just as soon as we starting setting words in lead — meaning, in movable type. That froze everything. Pronunciations all changed dramatically after that, and often very soon afterwards during the Great Vowel Shift, but by then it was much too late to change those frozen spellings.
Plus you can indeed still have a two-syllable prayer, meaning one who prays.

A: French built infinitives with -er and derived participles and nominalized nouns from the infinitive. This was borrowed as is into English to form a noun. The English verb must have been backformed from the noun; Middle English simplified verbs anyway. It helps that -er is a regular nominal suffix, notwithstanding the further etymology.

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