The Gorge

There are a few major highlights of the Tour d’Afrique and the Blue Nile Gorge is certainly one of them.  A huge chasm cut through the landscape by the Blue Nile, the Gorge is 1,500metres from top to bottom (only 300m less than the Grand Canyon). Lunch was sadistically and spectacularly placed at the top of one side of the Gorge, so we were able to contemplate the impending ride whilst we chewed our sandwiches – we would ride to the very pit of the gorge and then ascend to the crest of the hill on the other side.  The treeline that marked the top of the other side looked back at us tantalisingly. As we finished lunch, we set off on the descent knowing that every metre we dropped without having to pedal, would have to be hard earned coming up the other side.

View of the Canyon from lunch and the road up the other side

The journey down was unpleasant;  the temperature rising, badly corrugated tarmac and some aggressive rock-throwing children (that got a couple on target), made the sight of the Nile, which marked the bottom of the Gorge, a welcome relief, even if it was 47°C down there.

Climbing up the inside of the valley (not for the faint hearted) the road gains its 1,500 metres over a 20 kilometre stretch (a key number to which our expectations were now firmly fastened, God forbid that road be a single kilometre longer).  We rode this as an individual time trial which means that everyone sets out on their own at one minute intervals leaving each of us alone on the road with our thoughts (for thoughts read pain). 

Really it is a ride for survival, but (given our shared disposition for competition) the shadow of the race hovers ever present.   The start of the climb is the most severe, not that it ever really drops off.  For the majority of the time we were riding a 12% gradient, with no flats to provide relief between the corners as you often find on a hill climb (Box Hill eat your heart out).  Overhead the walls of the Gorge stand tall, rising high above but selfishly they offer no shade.

A sign showing the seriousness of the descent!

As you ride you begin to pick out tiny figures on the road ahead.  The target is set and this provides the much needed motivation to keep pushing.  Without that motivation negative thoughts easily creep in, ‘ow; is this really necessary?; when will this end?; ow; where is the truck and shall I get on?; ow ow’ and the like. To distract from these thoughts, and to quantify every tiny advancement made, inane sums fill the time.  So, I’ve done 2km, that leaves 18kmmaking me one tenth of the way there.  Or, I’m doing 7km an hour, if I keep at this average speed, I’ll be done in 1 hour 40 mins, and so on and so forth.

At 10km you round the corner into a village, the tantalising prospect of a coke stop.  Something other than the water that has reached about 40° in our bottles is a strong temptation.  ‘But the race, what about the race?  But my health and survival, not to mention happiness and enjoyment, what about that!?’  As it happens, the kids start hassling and distracting –‘YOU! Pencil, money’ and the other demands we have become so familiar with in Ethiopia, and then the coke stop is gone and your mind has been made up for you.  Ali had the privilege of being mooned in the village (on reflection probably a better option than rocks – it seems more playful than the aggressive rock throwing).

But it’s been an hour and you are only half way.  For lack of any other real distractions, reluctantly, onwards it is then.   As you move up the pack of riders there are fewer people to spot on the road for the second 10km.  As you climb higher, whilst the peak seems smaller, false summits come and go and you start to dream dangerously of actually completing this damn thing.  This is a bad thing to do as there is still plenty of work to do on the road, which winds perilously close to steep drops and requires an adequate level of attention. Looking across the Gorge from where you came, you try and pick the horizontal equivalent spot – ‘I swear I am as high as the top over there…maybe this side is higher…’

Press play to watch a short video of The Gorge, or click here

With one kilometre to go, there were men at work in the road and the tarmac had been replaced with rubble – tough going on the downhill, this was an incredibly unwelcome interruption on the uphill and elicited some justified cursing.  However, the workmen had a far greater respect for our red faced trauma than the kids in the village and some cheers of support went a long way.  Finally, the road bent inland away from the edge and rounding a corner there was Nix, with her stopwatch and the divine view of the finish flag.

Some find the ride easier than others...

Joy at seeing the finish flag

The results speak for themselves!