Mayssar Rebi

I could not convince him that my GPS offered neither music nor video games, and he happily went crazy on all the buttons for 15 minutes to see what he could pull up on the screen.

Mayssar rides a taxi bus the 35 km. to school every weekday in Kebili. He asked if I could give him some money to buy a bicycle. Instead, I pulled out my map of North Africa, and that was a real eye opener…for me. Damn, I’ve got a long way to go! Polly was right.

Making sure dad didn’t notice, Mayssar chewed through half a baguette and all of my cheese. Then he found my cameras, and demanded to take pictures. I took a picture of him instead, and promised to send it in the mail. Dad did not want to be photographed, and wanted me to write the address because (I suspect) he isn’t literate. Just really, really nice. I offered some money for the dates, and even insisted, but he would accept nothing.

On the road to Kebili

On the road between El Hama and Kebili

80 km. went very well today, which inspires me to thank the whole team that helped me come back from that unpleasant little car accident 18 months ago.

Polly Dithmer, spouse supreme, Acton, MA: After spending a month in bed in no shape to even walk, Polly gave me a custom bicycle for my birthday. I could barely stand up for the measurements, but her encouragement got me going, and really got this trip out of the “someday” phase.

Dr. Ma, acupuncturist, Newton, MA: delicate with the needles, but not shy with some horrifyingly painful maneuvers as well, Dr. Ma finally gave me some relief from the pain that had kept me off my feet for weeks.

Dr. Harrington, chiropractor, Concord, MA: Those neck maneuvers never failed to scare the living daylights out of me, but Dr. H had that magic touch and kept me relatively functional after I got back on my feet.

MetroWest Physical Therapy, Concord, MA: A therapist from Namibia with some great techniques and a magic touch when acupuncture and chiropractia just seemed to be taking too long.

Fitness Together, Acton, MA: When going to the gym during lunch proved ineffective, I found Jason, Monica, Matt and Brian. For 8 months, 3 days per week, all I had to do was show up, eat their fruit, and do as I was told: with patience and good humor they made sure I left a physical wreck. In their hands, I finally made some real progress.

Seriously, I hadn’t ridden a bicycle in ten years or taken a bike trip in fifteen years before this trip, and I hadn’t exercised anything but my drawing and typing muscles since then either. I know I was a real project, and owe you all a huge thanks.

Entering Kebili, late afternoon

Koutine 1, early afternoon

Selmi Lamine

6pm I turn on my lights and head out into the dark. The wind sucks the breathe out of me, but I'm determined to make it to Gabes. Every time I see on-coming traffic I scoot off the road, but I feel secure that with my blinking lights that I am very visible. It takes me 2 more hours to get to Gabes.

8pm When I arrive at the hotel I am unable to write my name on the register, and the manager immediately calls for some Orange juice. I am in incredible pain, my neck and back having seized up completely some hours earlier. I get into my room, fill the tub with scalding water, fumble out of my clothes, and here, parents, you may want your kids to skip a paragraph:

Many of you may know that the male privates diminish and contract considerably when the organism experiences stress. What I had never seen before however, was their complete and utter disappearance. I looked down as I was about to slide into that achingly hot bath and found...nothing. Nothing! I paw around, and it is all unfamiliar terrain! I admit to a moment of concern. I get into the tub, however,and that's all it takes. The little fellow takes a peek, gets a little tangled in the hair down there, and then pops out as if there was never cause for concern.

OK children, pick it up here: I lie there for an hour, can't lift myself out of the tub, and lie there for another half. When I finally stumble off to the restaurant, dinner is over. The food manager fixes me grilled Turkey and potatoes anyway, with dates and Oranges for dessert.

10pm Done. I sleep for 12 hours. Good pills.

written by  roel krabbendam on January 4, 2007 from Gabes, Tunisia
from the travel blog: Harmattan
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Bike

Reynolds 853 - heat treated
UTS: 81 - 91 Tsi, 180 - 210 Ksi,
1250 - 1450 MPa

"This seamless air-hardening steel tube sets new standards for professional cycle frames and proves that steel still has a future at the highest levels. It is suitable for TIG welding and brazing, using lugged or lugless construction. The production process ensures tight tolerance, gauge tubes. The strength to weight ratio of 853 is close to that of quality titanium frames. A normal chrome molybdenum steel will lose strength in the joints after the heat has been applied.

This material (853) INCREASES in strength as the frame cools to strengths well in excess of the delivered values shown above. This unique air hardening property of Reynolds 853 provides additional stiffness through reduced microyielding at the joints, allowing stiffer frames with excellent fatigue strength (when compared to standard chrome molybdenum) and a superior ride quality from the finished frame. On road and touring frames we recommend the use of 631 or 725 fork blades with 853 frames".

I got that off their website.

This material eliminates the need for butted or double butted tubes and brazing because it is strengthened by the heat of the welding operation, and should a weld ever fail, any old shop in Africa stands a chance of repairing it. This is why aluminum or carbon or any number of other possible (and possibly lighter) frame materials were not selected. The frame has holes and braze-ons for every conceivable configuration of component parts in case anything I have now should break and I can't find the same replacement parts. The forks are extra wide to accept both mountain bike and regular street width tires.

The rear axle is solid steel, not the hollow axle that usually houses the quick release mechanism. I was concerned about the asymmetric stresses of the trailer, as well as the stress of my 195 pounds and the weight of the bike bags, and so we took this extra measure.

I am using bar-end shifters because they are easy to adjust and repair and replace. There is a cassette of 9 gears on my back wheel, with three gear wheels in front for a total of 27 gears. We calculated all the gear ratios but I've forgotten whether there were some doubles in there or not and I'm not about to start counting teeth now. Originally we had a lower "granny gear", but the wheel is so small that there is a risk of breakage and I opted to go one larger. I'm pretty happy with the range of gears available to me, though I could occasionally use more power on the downhills.

The bike has disc brakes in both the front and rear. The stopping power is immense, even fully loaded, and there is no risk of damaging my wheel rims as sand might begin to grind between them and a set of normal brakes. If the disc brakes do ever fail and I can't fix them, the frame will accept normal brakes. The disk brakes have a small tolerance and I have had to adjust them a bit as the cable stretched among other things. Though its finicky, adjustment is fairly easy with some dials on the brakes.

I am using 26" rims that accept both narrow street tires and wide dirt tires. The originally planned trip had 1500 km of dirt track and 3500 km of paved road, but the new route shifts the proportion more towards asphalt. Spokes are heavy-duty, and my concerns about breaking them has proved unfounded so far. On my trip from Amsterdam to Morrocco in 1979 I had a lot of trouble popping spokes, and they are a real pain to replace. So far, so good.

The seat was measured to my butt (not kidding!), and I have suffered less for it: they are configured to maximize circulation in the seated position, and they really work.

Pedals clip into my shoes, which I always thought would limit my shoe options too much on a long trip, where I don't want to bring 2 pairs of shoes. Fortunately, I found the perfect set of bike shoe/boots that do it all: let me ride in comfort and hike around without any problem at all in something other than a sneaker type shoe. They are made by Lake out of...I think Illinois.

Handles are wrapped with gel tape, and I wear bike gloves because I lose circulation in my hands and fingers. It has helped a lot, but I still suffer from circulation problems.

The bike racks are the toughest racks I could find, Old Man Mountain out of Santa Barbara, California.

The bike bags are by Arkel, out of Canada, and they are truly fantastic. I opted for 4 equally sized bags in order to distribute the weight on the frame fairly evenly. Each bag is a bit heavy, but incredibly durable and with a waterproof inner bag that has proven to be very effective. The laptop I am typing on now has weathered some drenching inside those inner bags.

The trailer is by Radical Design in the Netherlands (thanks to mom for picking it up on her last trip to Holland, since they don't sell to the US). I chose it for it's weight capacity, which exceeded the one wheel trailers on the market by 10-15Kg. I will be carrying 40 liters of water on some legs of this trip (40 liters=40Kg=88lbs), and so the capacity is no small issue. The trailer has performed extremely well, and the removable wheels make it convenient to put on airplanes. It has a nylon rain jacket which has performed well, though on Day 2 I failed to notice it rubbing against one of the wheels, and the wheel rubbed right through the fabric. I almost never feel the trailer at all. My only concern about the 2-wheel design is how the rig will perform on narrow dirt tracks. I'll find out soon enough.

written by  roel krabbendam on January 4, 2007 from Gabes, Tunisia
from the travel blog: Harmattan
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Around me tourists of various nationalities, all here on a comfortable tour bus or in organized expeditions, all here with friends and family, all quite comfortable with what they will see and what they expect and how they will return to their normal life, if they even feel they have left it. The contrast leaves me in utter despair.

Why do I feel I need to do this? Why don’t I just go home? Why am I putting my family through this? What could I possibly get out of this except pain and misery and loneliness? A tan? A workout?

Ksar Ouled Debbab

7pm Two American women, mother and daughter, and their Tunisian guide invite me to dinner, and it helps immensely. The Tunisian is a professor of history with a wonderful sense of humor, and the women have traveled widely, so that our discussion goes from Roman agriculture in the Sahara to riding busses in Honduras to coyotes eating the pet dog in Napa Valley where the family grows wine. A Canadian woman stops by to say hello, mentions she is renting a house in Douz, and says yes when I invite myself to lunch in a few days. Something to look forward to.

8pm. Plotting the new route. I'll tack west much further north that I had originally intended, but I have to backtrack 120km. I'll wake up at 5am and try to do that in one day, back to Gabes and the Oasis (pink bathroom) hotel.

written by  roel krabbendam on January 3, 2007 from Tataouine, Tunisia
from the travel blog: Harmattan
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Douiret

Douiret

Ksar

Douiret

Chenini is the remnants of another town.

As if living off a corpse, the few residents of Chenini still making their home there seem to get by on the tourists that come to see a world-class archeological site. What I found was a decaying pile of rubble festooned with electrical wiring, plastic flotsam, trash and the usual handicraft stands. People do still live there, in what little is habitable, but there are not enough of them to make this a vibrant town and too many to call this a park or monument. I sensed no pride in the vast effort it must have taken to build this place from stone in the 11th century, nor embarrassment that it is so utterly left to both neglect and the ad hoc infrastructures of modern life. Instead, in the aggressive approaches by the guides, and the pleading of the children for a dinar or just a caramelo, I experienced only opportunism and desperation.

I cannot resent their need and desire to make a living, but do wish them the resources to take a decisive step: abandon and preserve, or reoccupy and renovate. Either way would support them better than the unhappy mess that supports them so tenuously today.

written by  roel krabbendam on January 1, 2007 from Tataouine, Tunisia
from the travel blog: Harmattan
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It was in a granary (or "Ksar" or "Qasr") built like a fort, all stone and arched openings, a single entry portal, and command of the surrounding countryside. Inside, open fires provided smoke and warmth and light, and we sat under draped tents of wool cloth as food was served in 8 courses and a band played to a crescendo at midnight. Italians, Dutch, Canadian, Tunisian, Portuguese…managing in any number of languages to share this cloudy night.

When we finally stepped outside the sky had cleared and a radiant moon illuminated the countryside around us: stone and dust and here and there a house or tree. Two Italians from Torino gave me a ride back to the hotel, and maybe it was the two bottles of wine we had shared, but the silence on the way back felt good and the music still haunts me.

Happy New Year.

written by  roel krabbendam on December 31, 2006 from Tataouine, Tunisia
from the travel blog: Harmattan
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I spent the morning with Google Earth, addressing my concerns about navigating the desert just south of here, and then took off for the 75 kilometer run down to Medenine. Gabes was a ghost town: everything closed down for Eid. I bought a baguette and a big bottle of water from the Oasis hotel before I left (pink bathrooms notwithstanding, a great little hotel: very nice people, heat and hot water on demand, deep bathtubs, pretty good buffets for breakfast, lunch and dinner, wi-fi in the reception area, and they even gave me the 10% very-tired-Dutch-biker-stumbling-in-after-dark discount).

The roads were empty. No trucks, infrequent cars, and a sunny, clear day as well. Nonetheless, with only 6 hours of daylight left to cover 75 kilometers over hilly terrain, I was moderately concerned about arriving before dark. In Arram, 35 kilometers from Medenine and just beyond a town named Mareth, as I stopped for a drink of water, a man accosted me and would not let me go on. I tried reasoning with him, to no avail. It was have a meal with his family or else! (I know that was cheap, preying on all your fears).

I put away my little plan to get to Medenine (heat, hot water, security…), eased my mind into accepting a night out in the tent, and accepted the invitation. The whole clan was gathered at the ancestral home: the son from up north, the cousin from Paris…all hanging out on mattresses in the shadow of the house in the yard.

Lunch was eaten on the mattresses: grilled mutton, couscous, some kind of mildly spicy red sauce, tea, more tea…the father of the clan had some kind of technical job, the guy that pulled me off the road, Karboub Mohamed, works for the water utility SONEMED in Sfax, and the brother, Karboub Belgacem (always the brother!) had studied at the university, spoke some English, and couldn’t find a job.

The Karboub Clan of Arram

I took pictures of all the men, who were hanging out separately, and when mom demanded to know why I didn’t take a picture of the women, I took pictures of the women. One young girl appeared seriously disturbed, and I was somehow heartened to see her ensconced, protected, embraced in the middle of the female clan.

As I left I got the pitch to find some work abroad for Belgacem. With the sun already setting, I made a try for Medenine and arrived an hour after dark. A young guy on a bicycle challenged me to a race up the last hill (gasp!), and then helped me find a little hotel on the main square where I watched Hussein’s hanging on TV. Al Jazeera left little to the imagination.

written by  roel krabbendam on December 30, 2006 from Medenine, Tunisia
from the travel blog: Harmattan
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I took the Polly Dithmer approach to shopping: see something more or less like what you need, and grab it. No exhaustive survey of the marketplace, no price comparisons, no research regarding alternative models, nothing. I’m a new man.

Tried to find the Quaran in English, but only found Newsweek.

Found a Polartech burnoose (Polartech! Manufactured in Lawrence, United States! The guy told me wool was too heavy and impractical!), perhaps as an alternative to some kind of additional blanket or comforter, but couldn’t convince myself it was quite right.

Here’s the bottom line on traveling alone, at least for me: it’s fine in the morning as long as you have an agenda in place (ride 100km, buy wool socks, whatever), but it is terribly painful in the afternoon as the light dwindles. I miss familiar things and people. I miss my family and friends. I physically ache for connection. By the time it gets completely dark, I feel reduced to a client, a target or an outcast, depending on the situation.

Travel: it's a mental game.

written by  roel krabbendam on December 29, 2006 from Gabes, Tunisia
from the travel blog: Harmattan
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