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Its over! Viva Espagna! Cycle To The Cup…..the World Cup….all over….back to reality….for the time being.

Here is where it all began….in a park in London

So here I am, Cape Town at last. 5 months living out of four bags can finally come to an end. And what a trip! A journey of ups and downs….. but mostly ups in my case. At some points it really felt like hard work. Sitting on a bicycle for hours on end gets boring very quickly, especially if the scenery is unchanging, the hills are endless, the heat is oppressive and there is nothing to look forward to except for more cycling. I have also witnessed incredible poverty, poor education, alcoholism and a number of other problems that seem unassailable in terms of a solution. At other points, we would have great days where we saw beautiful scenery, met warm and friendly people or simply sat round the cooking pot playing the quiz game (my buzzer sound will forever be the sound of a squawking chicken whilst John’s is that of a stuck pig…very amusing). I really enjoyed crossing borders and establishing the various differences that exist from country to country……the most diverse being that of Sudan and Ethiopia, Muslim and Christian, abstinence and alcohol.  Similarly, having a huge elephant cross the road 30 metres in front of you can also be regarded as a highlight, albeit a slightly nerve-racking one. Four complete strangers agreeing to travel for 5 months could be regarded as a reckless thing to do, and we certainly weren’t without our many disagreements along the way. But we prevailed and, with the help of our added team members, we had an awesome time.

A sad point was England being knocked out before we managed to get to Cape Town which was highly inconsiderate of them. Duncan and I put a lot of time and energy into making our delightful costumes as St George and the Dragon (my bike) and King Arthur and his horse (Duncan’s bike), and we only got to wear them twice. The video below should explain further.

So what is Africa like? Most people assume the worst and are surprised when I say that Sudan held one of the most hospitable populations that I came across. I told my Mum before I left that 99% of people are good people and it’s only the 1% who run around ruining it for everyone else. By the most part, people are afraid of what they don’t know….and the press don’t do anything to counter this. In the UK, if you say Africa, most people think of famine, wars and despotic leaders, corruption, robberies, Darfur with a smattering of elephants and lions. And from my experience, all of the above is true…..but the negative can only be applied to small percentages. Most people in Africa are just getting on with their lives and come across as warm and welcoming. Culturally Africa is hugely different to Western culture so there are inevitable clashes in the work place and so forth. The irony is that much of the problems in Africa have their connections with colonisation….whether that be the Brits in the past or modern day powers setting up trade deals that only favour a few of the elite. Similarly, the aid programmes that helped Ethiopia through their droughts in the eighties have left a mark where western people are regarded as walking cash machines whose sole purpose  is to hand out money. As Barbara Kingsolver put it, ‘no other continent has endured such an unspeakably bizarre combination of foreign thievery and foreign goodwill’. For the most part, big business and trade passes everyone by with the priority still being subsistence.

South Africa is fantastic. The landscape for the most part is stunning, and Cape Town is great for the simple fact it has a huge mountain in the middle, vineyards within an hours drive and oceans on either side. As for the people, a lot of people bad mouthed the country and its various populations and politics to me before I entered the country. I have experienced nothing but incredible kindness from the various people we have stayed with or met. It seems odd to me for people to be referring to each other as ‘the blacks, the whites and the coloureds’, but I don’t believe the terms are used with negative connotations. Given my expectations of racism, I only saw it in Botswana and partly in Rustenburg (against the blacks I might add). But mostly, I have experienced nothing but kindness from everybody. The rugby world cup in 1995 was where Mandela connected the country by persuading all colours and races to get behind a team of a predominantly white sport. The football world cup takes it one step further and in my view, is the perfect next step for a country attempting to fix its divisions. The whole world plays football, and the whole world (of all colours and creeds) has appeared in South Africa to follow their teams. The reaction in South Africa is for everyone (and I mean everyone) to wear their Bafana Bafana shirts, fly their flags and blow their infuriating vuvuzelas (at least make them play a tune) as a fantastic display of solidarity and unity. If anything, the country has taken a jump forward and any negativity I heard was simply ignorance. Unfortunately ignorance is a powerful force, and I witness it the whole time in the press in the UK. The country is developed and most people simply want to see further progress. The talk of civil war when Mandela dies is frankly the most ridiculous thing I have heard and only helps promote the fear that exists everywhere in the country. It’s just sad that a small few can cause such trouble. That aside, South Africa is an awesome place.

I thought I might sum up my trip by doing a low point and high point of each country:

High Points:       

• Climbing Mnt Kenya
• Diving in the Indian Ocean
• Cycling under millions of stars when there was no moon
• Cycling in and out of Blue Nile Gorge…however hard it was
• Botswanan generosity and hospitality
• Playing golf in Tanzania
• Cycling 175 miles in a day in the desert….painful but satisfying
• Watching the first Bafana Bafana game in a fan park…..mental
• Lake Malawi
• Having a beer and watching elephants drink from the pool metres away
• Scoring the winning goal in the world cup final
• Bungee jumping….the highest in the world
• Dressing up as Saints/Knights and going to the England games
• Cycling through the hills of Ethiopia (so beautiful)
• Eating whole pineapples and mangos on the side of the road
• Avocado/Guava juice…yum
• Playing tennis in a nice part of Nairobi
• Not being run over by some crazy drunk driver
• The Garden Route
• Victoria Falls….and the booze cruise that evening
• South African and Sudanese hospitality
• Arriving in Cape Town….The Finish

Low Points:        

• Passport being ruined by an exploding can of insect repellent
• Lindsey crashing….well she did that a lot but specifically when she cut her head open….next trip Lindsey is travelling in one of those zorb balls…..so nothing can go wrong
• Cycling……its boring….next time I’m flying in some elaborately constructed flying suit/parachute (in actual fact we’re looking for sponsors…I can explain)
• Drunks
• Border crossings….dodgy
• Dangerous driving
• Being ripped off….a lot
• England being knocked out….useless bunch of half wits
• Hills
• Cold weather
• Camping….I’m over camping for now….especially when Duncan farts in the tent (totally unnecessary and should be outlawed by pain of death)
• Not raising my total sponsorship money…..but I tried….and its good to aim high I suppose.

With that in mind, here is my last appeal to anyone who hasn’t sponsored me. I need another 300 pounds to get to 7,000 pounds which would make a nice round number…..everyone prefers round numbers. At some point I am going to one of the townships here in Cape Town to provide an organisation called Ticket To Ride with a number of footballs which will help them run their projects and football programmes, a really worthy cause by all accounts which I am looking forward to getting involved in somehow. It is unlikely, unless any of you millionaires feel like helping me, that I will reach my total of 20,000, although I can admit that it was fairly ambitious.

To all those who did sponsor me, the current total stands at 6,700 pounds which is a considerable amount of money which will really help both LandAid and Footballs For Fun. I know that both they and I are extremely grateful to all of you, and you have helped make this trip worth it for me. Thank you all.

Finally (I appreciate this blog is painfully long), I now intend to stay here in Cape Town. A shameless request, but if anyone has contacts here in Cape Town, particularly those who work in the property industry or who simply need someone like me to do some work for them, please put me in touch. Job hunting is tricky at the best of times, but with limited contacts it may become harder….and bank time is running out.  My number here is +27 (0) 733162510, although email may be best.

This is Dick Broadhurst…..reporting from yet another internet cafe….goodbye….goodluck…..until next time….when I shall be flying….back to y’all in the studio.

Ps. Below are some videos that we made that might be of interest.

Team Trevor as it stands

Even the locals love England….God Save the Queen….Hilarious

Bafana Bafana go one nil at the first game……and everyone goes bananas….or bafana should i say.

Arrival of Team Trevor….the finish…finale…completion…and Table Mountain in the background.

And finally my closing video….although I have no idea what i said. Probably the kind of stuff you should write down and publish in ‘quotations monthly’….or not.

Blonds have more fun! Or so the saying goes when women dye their hair blond. My interpretation of ‘more fun’ is probably not in conjunction with what these women would like, but that didn’t stop us from putting the theorem to the test. Admittedly we are not women (a minor glitch) but if this blondness is so powerful, I don’t see why gender barriers should get in the way. Duncan has had dyed blond hair from the beginning, so can only pontificate as to whether he has been having more fun or not. Chris and I, on the other hand, make perfect subjects. I opted to only dye my stylish airman’s goatee, fearful that dyeing all of my hair may result in fun overload. My father regularly says there is such a thing as having too much fun. I must stay grounded. Chris, however, has had all the fun drummed out of him working at the immigration office so chose to push the boat out (where does that expression come from?) like a ball of fluorescent candy floss. Blonds have more fun…..the proof is in the pudding….which is currently in the oven…jury deliberating. Thoughts please.

Hanging on the telephone

Santa Claus

So Zambia, home of copper, a thousand smiles and 10 pence sachets of liquor (about two shots). In actual fact, much of sub-Saharan Africa contains these dirt cheap sachets of cane spirit, rum, brandy and vodka resulting in unfortunate alcoholism across the board (empty sachets litter the ground everywhere). A silver lining to this particularly dark cloud is that these sachets lend themselves rather nicely to our childish drinking games.

Booze cruising....

With these frivolities in mind, we set sail on the aptly named ‘booze cruise’ along the mighty Zambezi, where our money buys us an open bar for two and a half hours. Unwise perhaps on a river where hippos and crocs surround boats with their jaws open, and if you escape them you must navigate one of the worlds greatest waterfalls on earth (currently a 100% guaranteed ticket to the underworld to date). No doubt my self confidence at overcoming these obstacles would be high after a skinful (I’ve seen Croc Dundee and McGuiver) but still, a risky business.

Water water everywhere

Nonetheless, it was Jonkey the Donkey’s 30th birthday, so even I was willing to set aside the scrabble and chess and put my new blond beard to the test. Naturally, we dressed Jonkey in a style befitting a man with the surname Donkey, although I’ll put the photo in the photo library so that I don’t actively offend anyone (you must search if you wish to be offended). What followed was a night incorporating American, Australian and British subtle humour, with the odd foray into politics, history, geography and some pure unadulterated smut. A night to be remembered (another questionable expression).

Party boat.....with santa?

Victoria Falls is a humbling sight, especially at high water where 10 million cubic tonnes of water go over the falls a minute….a bit more that when you fill your tea cup….some perspective! The experience also includes getting wet in a novel tropical-esque manner. In other words, instantaneous. We were also able to creep beyond the path boundary down to the water where we could dip our toes centimeters from where the water drops. A risky source of adrenalin (mutually compatible words) which led us to question the number of deaths that occur each year. Bear in mind that some of the others went jet boating and saw a body hanging from a tree by the side of the river below the falls (morbid). According to the park staff, a couple of deaths occur each year and only to the locals (doubtful somehow). Duncan and I resorted to the tried and tested method of ice cream to make the world a happy place again….only for our mortality to be thrown once more into center stage. Ice cream, it transpires, also sends Baboons to a happy place…..which explains the large male baboon sprinting towards us (imagine a very large angry dog). Our macho alpha male status was placed in jeopardy, more pronounced considering that as homo sapiens we can walk on two legs and can apparently outsmart monkeys. Fight or flight mode comes into play…..we are men….flight is not an option. My response was to polish of my ice cream in one large chomp. Dunc’s was to splutter ice cream everywhere and hide the evidence behind his back. Debate has raged ever since as to who most successfully outsmarted the monkey (me) although if it wasn’t for someone throwing rocks at said baboon, it would have been a different story.

What a view

So on to Botwana, where I am now in fact. Team Trevor reached its full might of 7 at Livingstone…only for us all to part company again with Dunc and I avoiding the $50 visa fee for Zimbabwe and heading for Botswana. Next rendez-vous, Gaborone where I am at present. I will try to do my Botswana blog before the game this weekend, although there is loads to write about.

I am aware that what I have written about are the antics we get up to in between cycling every day because quite frankly, cycling for 5 or 6 hours a day is not particularly interesting for writer or reader. However, should you fear that we are having too much fun I thought that I would remind you of the main focus of the trip which is indeed the cycling and in turn, raising money for my causes. In the last two weeks I cycled the length of Botswana which is a bit like cycling from London to Edinburgh twice, if not a bit more. Sitting on a bicycle all day gets highly monotonous, and I wouldn’t want to transfer the monotony to you by writing about it. On the other hand, I do really want to raise 20,000 pounds for my charities so I implore you to sponsor me and make the cycling worthwhile. Please, if you haven’t already, sponsor me….and for those who have, thank you very much. I need another 15,000 pounds to reach my target….which is totally possible.

Borrowing the locals well

Keep an eye out for me on ITV, potentially in the news, radio five live a day or two before…and possibly just on the news as we have some strong outfits for the game.

Bif Bif Spicy Meatballs anyone?

Colourful

Eight years ago, I was on a post-school gap year programme where I taught in a boys school a short distance from the capital of Malawi, so I have greatly been looking forward to returning to this great country. I am enjoying the constant feeling of nostalgia as constant memories rise to the surface. Its funny how much you forget in 8 years….mostly the language. Reportedly one of the poorest nations, the capital doesn’t seem anything of the sort being almost unrecognisable from before….with development all over the capital. The normally cheery Malawians all seem a little bit cheerier, and I noticed that even the money changers were wearing fancy clothes. Perhaps times are good for this African country. However, everything is also too expensive, the country is landlocked, fuel prices are high and everything is imported….so I imagine any economic success is fragile.  Gone are the days of a bag of chips for 5 pence though….in fact a lot of things resemble English prices if not more. My bank balance and I are having a inconsolable row.

Mayoka Village Lake Malawi

Nonetheless, I still feel like Malawi is my favorite place so far. Everyone grins at you, even when they’re trying to rip you off. Service with a smile as they say. Lake Malawi is so tranquil, beautiful and untouched that it is breathtaking, with mountainous back drops on either side and sleepy fishing villages dotted along the shoreline. My mind wonders to setting up some sort of fancy hotel there, but persuading people to fly that far may be a challenge.

Lake of the Stars

We stayed in a notorious and beautiful backpackers lodge  on the shore line that I had visited before and set about making ourselves known to all the other travellers, albeit using the usual rowdy Brits-on-tour abusive xenophobic banter methods that seems to be the only way we know how to make friends. Given the presence of Dutch, German, US and even Israeli, there was plenty material to work with to keep us entertained. Stereotypes are wonderful things. There is a very old man there who sells chocolate who wears a matching purple hat, shirt,  pulled-up-socks, shorts get-up giving the impression that Cadbury’s recruited him themselves. He is always asleep so you have to tickle him should you need a fix.

Everyone's a fruit and nutcake

Leaving Nkhata Bay, we embarked on yet another African ferry adventure. As is the African way, there are 3 decks to this ferry (from Glasgow originally) with the lower deck being reserved for economy and second (one and the same) and the top two decks being first class (45 pounds rip off). Subsequently there are about 10 people to occupy two decks and 500 to occupy the lower…including us. We took this opportunity, amongst the sacks, pigs, people, bananas and chickens to impress the locals with an impromptu onion ring crisp eating contest which…..you guessed it….involves seeing how many you can eat, much to the amusement of 500 onlookers. Crazy mzungus!!  We slept under the stars on the front deck on the second night, and I was witness to a fantastic sunset and sunrise which…..given the presence of the lake and the mountains of Mozambique in the background…..was jaw dropping and gives some insight as to where religions may have originated. The one set back to this experience that my idyllic sleeping post transpired to be a place where the small fish are dried out….so my sleeping bag….already fast becoming an inhospitable place to spend time…..now resembles sleeping in a fishmongers. Fishmongers are an acquired taste for sleeping in….but a bit like marmite….you either love it or hate it. Maybe it will keep the mozzies away.

Salami and Sausage

After our ferry journey we trekked to Lilongwe where we stayed with Janey at Mabuya Lodge who happens to be a friend of a friend and educated us in what it means to be a backpacker proper…with various tales fuelled by her homemade jelly. We hope to return in October. Lilongwe was where I spent most of my time 8 years ago, so it was cool to be back, despite the fact that so much has changed. It may be worth mentioning that in Sudan, it got so hot that my insect repellent exploded right next to my passport rendering it fairly useless. Since then I have had to blag my way across many borders with the empty promise of getting a new one forthwith. Amazingly I haven’t had to bribe anyone yet…but on the Malawi border the guy almost sent me back…at which point I lied and said I had one in Lilongwe waiting….the result of which he gave me a 10 day Visa….and I concluded I should finally get off my arse and try and get one. No such luck. They can’t be issued except in Pretoria. Now I am armed with a piece of government headed paper with my name on it and how the Queen demands I be let through….which has been very successful so far. Who said the Queen was redundant?

Anyway, I’m currently in Botswana writing this, so I’ve got some serious blog catching up to do. I hope all are well. Stay in touch. Check out the photos. Sponsor me. Listen out for me on Radio Five Live a day or two before the game (details to come) and hopefully on ITV dressed like a pratt.

Back to the studio!!

A nice view

As Mzungus (white people), we stand out. As Mzungus on bicycles, we increase our visibility further. But for some reason (which has nothing to do with blatant attention seeking), this visibility is not sufficient and we slowly seem to be digressing into a selection of circus acts. Lindsey lead the way by shaving her head so that she now resembles a small boy. Duncan’s dress code is effeminate at the best of times, but can add his bleached blond hair and recent pink shirt purchase to the list just in case anyone was in any doubt on the matter. Chris (our new recruit cycling on a bike he bought in Tanzania…brave) has stepped up to the bar by donning a pink cycling shirt (unsurprisingly given to him by Duncan), cultivating his impressive afro and wearing a hat I bought with a chihuahua with a big pair of jingle jangles on it.

Christine

Potentially worst of all, I currently sport a cycling top (from Duncan) that is effervescent yellow and pink and also fairly tight (admittedly I could barely get it on at the start).  Worryingly I also think its really cool…I look like a pro (of something). Added to this, I have added a leopard print seat to my bike (sexy!) and a Gordon the Gofer to the front (found on a road side in Tanzania…bizarre). To round off the look, I am modelling my facial hair on a hansome duelling musketeer….. and can now twist the ends around so that they point upwards. Ha ha…en guarde!! I can’t wait to get my new passport done in a month or so.

Pink and yellow, lycra and a leopard print seat.....sexy or what!

All of this means that folks may begin to question my orientation on a few matters, but fear not, bar Lindsey who is plain mad as a brush, our dress code is a combination of our childish sense of humour and the omnipresence of ridiculous clothes available for purchase courtesy of the markets throughout Africa that comprise of second hand US and UK clothes. A goldmine of fancy dress options.

No gear and no idea

In Morogoro (Tanzania) we heard of a golf course. Too tempting to turn down, all the team bar Jonkey (Zanzibar in search of action apparently) decided to test our skills (dressed in whatever golf kit we had remembered to bring…ie none). Anywhere else this may have been a problem. Not so in Tanzania. Tusker Time (beer o’clock) was called instantly with a view to relaxing our swings, with a stack more piled into the caddies bags to help with our focus.

The Tanzanian Masters

We turned to John W and Chris for guidance as they seemed to be the only two with any connection to the sport (Chris knows how to spell the word ‘golf’ and John sympathises with Tiger Woods and his penchant for cocktail waitresses). Lindsey and Laura were surprised when they were handed a stick and not a bridle attached to a pony and subsequently led the field in redefining the word divot and setting new records for what figure over par they could reach. In an afternoon we managed 4 holes out of 9, the worst result being about 30 over par (Laura..stick to the ponies I reckon) and the best result being perhaps 3 or 4 over par with all men claiming something in that region…but I’m pretty sure I was the only one telling the truth…honest!

A stripy horse

As touched on previously, my journey through Africa has not resembled the swashbuckling adventure fighting off beasts of all varieties that I had hoped. So much so that Duncan and I have been compiling a montage of road kill instead. Sudan seemed to be the capital of all things dead ranging from donkeys, camels, cattle, horses and dogs (the smell in both instantly recognisable and unforgettable). Since then monkeys, babboons, bats, lizards and few unidentified species have been added.

Can you eat giraffe?

Fortunately, our route took us through a nature reserve in Tanzania whereby we were graced with live animals including buffalo, elephant, giraffe, zebra, babboons, hippo and antelope…and all from the side of the road at no expense to yours truly. Cycling along with a queue of elephants 10 metres to the side of the road is an awe inspiring experience that I shan’t forget. Sadly there were no lions, but I can only assume that they got the memo from the lion up in Mount Kenya to keep well clear or face the consequences. Like I said…en guarde!!

Bordering

Tanzania has been a real adventure with our team increasing to almost its maximum of 7 (Jonkey missing). Chris learnt to speak Swahili a few years back and subsequently has been worth his weight in gold for the money he saves us in negotiations for things….everyone is as always an opportunist for ripping off the mzungus. He is aware he will lose his royal status when we cross to Malawi so has adopted fearsome puns to win us over. He entered 10 puns into a pun competition hoping that one would win…….but no pun in ten did.

A Taxing Tax Taxi

So here’s from me, Dick Broadhurst, reporting from the vastness of East Africa. Back to you Trevor in the studio.

Ps. Sponsor me.

Pps. Check out the photos on the site….there are loads on there

Ppps. I am desperate for some corporate sponsorship into my charity pot. 250 pounds would buy a prominent place on the website. However, in South Africa we will receive a large amount of publicity from both UK and local press, as well as some TV coverage. The official England band is playing us into the centre of Rostenburg for the USA England game for starters, but we intend to go further than that and make a real display of ourselves. If anyone is interested in working further with us on a corporate level we would be really interested, as I don’t have long to raise the remaining 15,000 pounds to reach my target. Thank you

Some of Team Trevor….leaders in intellectual exploration

Our gorgeous leader

Alpha male

Beta female

The tour talent

Goatee Grrrr