Flat - Blogabond

Finally back on my bike, I took off from Agadez headed west across the Sahara fringes. They call it the Sahel, but it looked and felt like the desert, only with a few more plants and absolutely flat. Before he left for Ouagadougou, Wolf Gaudlitz highly recommended I head south to Zinder rather than west to Tahoua due to the harsh circumstances, but this only interested me more. Besides, I really felt I was running out of time and adding a week to the trip to see Zinder felt…irresponsible(?).

Huts

For an entire day, the premise of this bike trip was completely fulfilled: solitude, no traffic, decent paving, stark landscape, strong wind at my back. One day. Then the paving stopped and it was piste for a long, long time. Sandy, exhausting piste where the map said pavement. I thought: “This is actually perfect. Exactly what I would have faced between Tamanrasset and Arlit”. So, I persevered in pretty good humor, recalculating the distance in days to Abalak, considering how much water I had, and convincing myself that all was well only slower.

Cows

Then I blew my rear tire. Deep breath. I thought: “This is actually perfect. I haven’t had even close to my ration of flat tires. I pulled off the road, set up my tent, removed all my baggage, locked up my bike, and went to lock up the trailer when I found one of its tires flat as well. Deep breath. I thought: “No problem: plenty of sun left”. I was still in good humor, hopped in the tent, and calmly fixed both tires. I couldn’t find what might have caused the punctures but that isn’t so unusual, and I went to sleep feeling well prepared for the next day. I was a little shocked by the state of my rear bicycle tire, which was actually quite shredded and left the inner tube exposed in a number of places, but I figured it might hold me until I got to Tahoua. Wrong.

Sandcastle

The next morning I found both patched tires once again flat. I had failed to find a thorn in the trailer tire the night before. The bike tire turned out to have multiple punctures. I lined my helmet with the raincover to the trailer, poured in some of my precious water, and discovered 2 additional holes I hadn’t found the night before by listening alone. One old patch was leaking as well. I patched everything very nicely, walked all my stuff out of the stand of thorny trees I had camnped in to avoid further puncture, and got on the road. For about a kilometer. The back tire was completely shredded and it would no longer support the tube: I had pulled a Faysal.

People on the road

I thought: “This is perfect”. No I didn’t. I was annoyed. I remembered carrying around two extra tires for six months on that bicycle trip to Morrocco and never needing them. Who ever heard of shredding a bicycle tire? Deep breath.

I mounted one of my big, fat dirt tires on the rear hub, removed the rear fender to make room for it, and then discovered that a minor error in the frame configuration, a crossbar located just 1/2 an inch too close to the rear hub, would never allow this tire to fit on this bike. I needed a welding shop or a smaller tire, I was on a deserted road, and I was a long, long walk from anywhere.

written by

roel krabbendam on February 10, 2007 from Abalak, Niger

from the travel blog: Harmattan

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When my (now ex) wife rode in Tanzania to Kilimanjaro we fitted her out with kevlar tire-liners. They didn't help a bit. We did make sure your bike has the most common tire size in the world, in case you ever do find a shop.
Larry
www.myspace.com/larry1066

written by Lawrence Libby on February 19, 2007

Hi Larry:
All is well, and part of the adventure. Shame on me for not trying out all the equipment before I left. It would be good of Independant to move that little crossbar when I get back however!
Cheers, Roel

written by

roel krabbendam on February 22, 2007

I sent the link to your blog to them a couple weeks ago. Maybe someone there is reading this.

written by Larry Libby on February 22, 2007

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