After a few months without cycling, I have finally invested in a new bike and have dusted off the lycra. However I swapped the road bike for a mountain bike - a sexy Specialised Rockhopper, see below - mainly due to the local kombi van drivers (the local form of public transport) who must be in the league for the worst collective group of drivers in this hemisphere. As well, the greater Gaborone area is full of off-road tracks designed for cycling, an ever-growing sport in this part of the world. There are some great off-road events held throughout Botswana, as well as in South Africa, so this is just the start of it.
It took a little time to become comfortable with swapping smooth, sealed roads to take on a mixed bag of 4WD tracks and single lane bike tracks, comprising hilly climbs and rocky creek beds. I thought the rocks would be difficult to manoeuvre, but the suspension makes even the biggest rocks a breeze to glide over. By contrast, the pockets of deep sand that emerge with little are an absolute, bloody nightmare. Literally.
Take the first hour of my first ride. The soft sand made tight turns near impossible meaning I came off the bike four times. The last time, I decided to take a chunk of flesh out of knee before falling off and into a thorntree. Less than 10 minutes later, I encountered another thorntree, at least this time I remained stationary as I rode straight into its skin-piecing branches. Having never fallen off my road bike, the mental pain easily surpassed the physical.
Despite this, cycling through the largely barren landscape is incredibly beautiful and peaceful. Outside of central Gaborone, there is next to no development, with the exception of widely dispersed traditional farms. Each includes a small hut for the local villagers to live in, along with a chicken pen and kraal, for the villages’ cattle that spend the days roaming freely across the land, trying to find what little grass is available. I can only imagine that, 10 minutes out of the city, very little has changed in the past 100 years.
The only people you see out here are these farmers and the occasional soldier based at the camps along the South African border. Last Saturday, as we glided along a 4WD track next to the border we were lucky to see six kudu sprinting along next to us, on the South African side. Three shot ahead, jumped the border fence and darted across in front of us, before turning around and crossing back from Botswana to South Africa. A few minutes later, half a dozen domesticated dogs were on our heels, agitated, threatening us as deemed fence-jumpers. A quick wave to the army officers abated the attack-to-be, with their response being “where have you been the last two weeks”. It’s nice to feel welcome; this response sums up the fantastic demeanour of the Batwsana people.
My fall rate has now reduced to near zero as I have worked out this riding-through-sand-thing. Which is good, for there are many more tracks to explore, including in the local Mokolodi Nature Reserve, where you ride between the rhinos and kudu, undoubtedly under the gaze of the hidden leopard above. More on that to come in the near future...
