Go Ghana Cycle Challenge: Elmina to Agona-Swedru

Sunday 2^nd October Cycling Day 1

(Distances and route maps have been nicked from a fellow cyclist’s blog which you can find at http://neilgoghana.blogspot.com/.  Thanks, Neil. )

Distance                      70km

Calories burned          Quite a few

Crocodiles                   3

Level roads                 1         

Hilly roads                   All the others

Accidents                    2

Degree of difficulty      7/10

Misery factor               Low

Loss of dignity             Yes

 Off to a flying start on the one level tarmac road we encounter during our 6 days of cycling, to our first pitstop at Hans Cottage, a restaurant set in a crocodile infested lake.  Interesting. The baby croc on the bank is so still I think it is plastic, but there are larger, more active ones in the lake.  They look well fed, so I don’t think we are in any danger and pay more attention to the bright yellow weaver birds creating intricate nests hanging down from the trees.

The tarmac runs out soon after this along with the level road, and the majority of the day is spent cycling up and down rocky off road tracks.  The hills are relatively short and not too taxing, but I soon realise that my bar bag is unlikely to survive the trip as it is shaken off twice by the bone-jarring terrain. More seriously, not everyone has ridden off-road before and two accidents follow in quick succession, the most serious involving KM who has nasty cuts and bruising to his arm and hip which have to be regularly cleaned and dressed for the rest of the week.

Our first lunchstop highlights the logistical difficulty of this trip.  Freshly cooked food is provided by Peter and Jessica – who normally run a small pizza restaurant in a shack in Aburi, a later destination on our itinerary.  This seats a maximum of 10 people.  But this week, they are travelling with all their equipment (including pizza oven and generator) on a flat-bed truck over the same off road tracks that we are cycling, which then has to be set up under a canvas awning before cooking can begin.  As well as hungry cyclists, there is a hungry support crew to feed, so each day 30 odd meals have to be served at once.  All this takes time. At least the delay means we get a reasonable break from cycling in the heat of the day and provides a few hours diversion for the villagers. I’m not quite sure what they make of us. Although we seem very remote, the little girl posing like a catwalk model for our photographs suggests we are nearer to civilisation than it may appear.

Another plus is that our first cycling day is not too hot as there is thick cloud cover throughout, which contributes to my overall happiness added to which the off road section means I’m standing in the saddle for much of the time so no pain in the bum today.

The one downside today is the coach transfer to the hotel, which takes over two hours and comes after a visit to Slave River to see where the captives took their final bathe before being marched in chains to the coast.  We arrive at our hotel at 7.30pm – some 4 hours after finishing cycling for the day and still in our sweaty cycle gear.  The length of the journey contributes to my first loss of dignity on the trip – I have to ask the coach to stop so I can pee at the side of the road.  I am joined by half the coach, so don’t feel quite so bad.

Go Ghana Cycle Challenge – Ghana’s slave history

 Saturday 1^st October 

On arrival in Accra we are given a very useful phrase book.  “You can buy herrings under those trees” is a particular favourite, along with “Are there many executioners?” though I’m not sure when either will crop up in general conversation…

There is no cycling on our first day.  Instead we board a coach for a two hour drive from Accra to Cape Coast along a busy highway, our journey slowed by roadworks and Saturday markets. The jumble of stalls and shack shops, with everything from refrigerators to 3-piece suites set out under the trees reminds me of a previous trip to Tanzania.  Once again mobile phone operators dominate the advertising with logos printed on tin roofs and adobe walls.  And I can’t help admiring the snack vendors carrying their wares on their heads in plastic cubes.

Under a grey and gloomy sky, Cape Coast Castle is a white fortress with a grim history.  Over 2 million people were transported into slavery from this building alone - just part of the estimated 60 million slaves that left this coast in one of the most shameful episodes of our colonial history in Africa.  As we are shown the dungeons where hundreds of men and women were confined for months at a time before leaving their home soil forever through the Door of No Return, our guide’s repeated litany of their bodily functions paints a vivid picture of the fetid and hellish conditions in which they survived – or not.  Many didn’t make it to the transport ships, and many more died en route.  And when the trade continued after the abolition of slavery in England, if a British ship was sighted the human cargo was simply thrown overboard to drown

 

Today Cape Coast is a fishing village and on the beach at the far end of the castle the catch is hauled in by hand in a timeless scene that could have been played out for centuries past.

We move on a few miles to our hotel at Elmina.  After bike fitting, where I eventually find the one bike small enough for me, we head for the pool and pretend we are on a “proper” holiday, complete with cocktails.  Tomorrow all that will change.

Go Ghana Cycle Challenge - background

In a moment of weakness / madness / perversity / optimism / altruism – or more likely a combination of all of the above – earlier this year I signed up to take part in 400km cycle ride from Elmina on the Ghanaian coast to Kwahu Tafo, a large village in Eastern Region, high above Lake Volta and just 5 degrees off the Equator. I was not alone in this endeavour, as 19 other foolhardy souls made a similar commitment.

For the dubious pleasure of participating in this epic adventure we each promised to beg, borrow, shake buckets, bake cakes, shave heads, dress up, dress down and generally demand money with or without menaces from friends, relatives, work colleagues and strangers on buses to raise £3000 both to cover our travel costs* and leave a sizeable sum for the charity that came up with the bright idea in the first place, Friends of Tafo (FoT). (*My own generous sponsors may rest assured that all their money has gone to charity and not a penny to my travel costs.)

Set up by Humphrey Barclay, the charismatic and energetic former TV producer, FoT has a 10 year history of fundraising to improve the educational and healthcare infrastructure and support services in the village.  Our fundraising was ringfenced to provide clean water.  As we would find out when we reached the village, only 30% of homes receive piped water – and this could fail at any time.  The rest rely on water from the river or from five scattered wells of dubious quality, with each family requiring at least 10 buckets a day for their basic needs.

Friday 30^th September, our merry band of assorted cyclists gathered at Heathrow airport to receive our garish yellow, green and red cycling shirts and an airticket to Accra.  I don’t think I am insulting my companions by stating that we are not athletes.  Nor are we in the first flush of youth – ranging from late 30s to early 70s.  But our hearts are set on the cause and with introductions over there is much talk of training and preparation.  I start to think that my laps of Richmond Park sound a touch inadequate compared to the “90 miles off road last weekend” that at least one of my new companions managed.

But I am among friends – Claire, Suzi, Tim and KM – and apart from KM, we have done trips like this before and think we know what to expect.  Hmmmm.  By the end of the week we are all agreed that it’s the hardest week's cycling we have ever done.

Springtime in Venice

I can't imagine why it has taken me so long to post this blog, as our trip to Venice in May was the best birthday surprise in a very long time.  Truth be told, it would have been more of a surprise if Venice hadn't been the destination of my birthday treat, after my relentless campaign of not-so-subtle hints.  But Robin rose the challenge magnificently and booked a romantic room in a charming palazzo close to St Mark's Square as a base for our 4 day trip.

We followed the well-trodden tourist path to St Mark's Church and the Doges' Palace - which were remarkable in their richness, you could just imagine the wealth and power of Venice in its heyday intimidating visting merchants and diplomats alike - but apart from that we aimed to keep off the main thoroughfares and had a blissful time wandering the back streets and venturing into small churches to view remarkable paintings and frescoes.

Criss-crossing canal bridges we viewed the famous gondalas and their occupants with wry amusement - most looking as if they now regretted the 100 Euros they'd stumped up for the privilege of a half hour gondala jam in a narrow canal.  Instead we hopped on a vaporetto  for our own sightseeing tour of the Grand Canal.  The weather was glorious throughout our stay and the blue skies proved the perfect backdrop to city skyline.

We found some wonderful local restaurants and discovered spritz - a delicious apertif - at the market near the Rialto bridge.  But our best night was spent at an intimate opera - just 50 guests allowed - hosted in a crumbling palazzo on the Grand Canal, where the audience moved from room to room with each act, and almost became part of the action in the confined performance space.  

During the day St Mark's Square is an ugly scrum of tourists, but returning at night it takes on another quality - serenaded by competing Palm Court Orchestras on either side, we were never sure if we would make it across without getting our feet wet as the waters of the lagoon rose up between the stone flags forming ever increasing puddles.

On our final day we realised that the stages being erected by the waterfront and in St Mark's Square were to welcome the Pope the following day.  As everything seemed to be closing down in preparation for the Papal Visit, we crossed the lagoon to Murano to visit the glass museum and enjoy a final delicious lunch.

More from the Matterhorn

Day 2: While the snow at the top of the mountain is still in fantastic condition, it is getting slushy lower down – even at 2000 metres, the spring sun is melting the snow, and the track back to the hotel is disappearing fast.  However, the weather in the mountains is ever changeable. ….

Day 3: We woke to a bleak outlook, no sign of the mountains and wet snow falling in the village.  As we took the lifts up to the top, Enrico, our guide looked gloomy – “We go see, then decide what to do.”  Fortunately his nose for the best weather proved right once again.  After rising through thick fog in Cervinia, the clouds were less dense on the Zermat side, and eventually cleared enough for the sun to shine through while we skied through fresh powder on the piste and enjoyed our morning coffee in the sunny bar where we stopped for lunch yesterday.  .  But by lunchtime, the fog had closed in pretty much everywhere and snow was falling.  We headed home and crossed our fingers that the snow would not turn to rain, and the sun would emerge another day.

Day 4:  A perfect day – sun and fresh snow.  The best morning’s conditions of the season according to the lovely Enrico as he took us to the top of the mountain and we skied down 2000 metres to Valletourneche one of the lowest points in the valley.  The blessed conditions meant we could ski off-piste on virgin snow for part of the descent, where the the silence of our tracks was in sharp contrast to the rattle of our skis on the hard packed piste we returned to, before the snow softened in the valley.  By lunchtime, that part of the valley would have turned to mush – but us early birds had a wonderful treat. Tomorrow is the 1^st April – amazing.

Day 5: The strong sun continues giving wonderful morning conditions, but heavy conditions after lunch mean an early descent for me, and my aching knees.  But not before our new guide Isaac, has us short turning down a steep black.  After a 20 minute ascent by T-bar, it’s not surprising that my knees are shot!