There once was a man from devices
Words: Tim Brink. Article from Ride Magazine June 2015.
What makes a good man, with a good job, a comfortable life and burgeoning racing pedigree pack it all in and ride through Africa? And where do we sign on…
As I wait at a trendy corner cafe in Cape Town, watching (with a hint of jealousy) skinny roadies do repeats up Kloof Nek, one of the first things I wanted to ask Gary Hewitt-Long was how he managed to move from a Strava-monster, with more KOMs than a man in spots, to lugging a fully laden tourer down the dark continent. Instead, as the cheerful Englishman settled into the seat next to me, I asked him if he wanted coffee. He did, of course.
“I only got into bikes, really, in 2011. I became addicted quite quickly, and became light – 63kg on a good day from an original 100 – helped a lot with getting quite fast, quite soon in my cycling ‘career’. So the move to the tourer was quite extreme.
“I did an awful lot of research – part of my nature, I guess, and part of my real-world career as a buyer for a large hardware firm near Devizes, where I live. That’s in Wiltshire, in the far south-west of England, near Stonehenge. I ended up choosing a Surly Long-Haul Disc Trucker with 26-inch wheels… reliable and sturdy steel, with Ortleib panniers, and a mix of equipment that was chosen for reliability over weight.”
By the end of the process, all of it weighed in at over 50kg – and then Gary could still bulk up with 12.5 litres of water-carrying capacity, for the longer desert stretches. When he left his family – two sons aged 16 and 18, an ex-wife and a recently former partner – he told them he was going on an adventure… “maybe to Morocco”.
“I left my job – I had been with the same company for 14 years, and at 42, it was time for a change. I had a brief midlife Jaguar crisis, but then decided riding bikes was more fun.”
The planning had always included the full length of Africa – in Gary’s head. He didn’t quite share this goal with anyone else, though, until he had begun his trek across the Sahara desert.
“I started through England, France, Spain, and then crossed into Morocco. My mates and my family thought this was all great, and were supportive, presuming I was going into Morocco, mucking about in the sun for a while, and then heading back.”
“I always had it in my mind that there was no point heading into Africa without making the end-point Cape Town – somewhere you don’t need to explain to anyone. It was only when I was far enough not to turn back, in Kenya, that I broke the news to the people back home. That was actually the lowest point of the trip, in a way. I had now committed (to others, rather than myself), and when I took out my map and saw how far up this big bloody continent I was, it was terrifying!”
Gary’s route was meant to head all the way down the west coast of Africa. Through Western Sahara, Mauritania, Senegal, the Gambia, Mali and Burkina Faso, that plan remained in place. His timing was poor, though: as he approached the Nigerian border, the world’s gravest Ebola outbreak was in full swing, and he knew: (a) he would be lucky to gain entry, and (b) that a Nigerian stamp on his passport, in the Ebola context, would make entry into many other countries impossible, including his final destination, South Africa.
“In a way, it was a blessing, because I was forced to fly across to Nairobi, and restart the trip in Kenya. It gave me the opportunity to ride around both Mount Kenya and Kilimanjaro, although I did have to head north for a while to cross the equator by bike, instead of in a tin can.”
The new route now read: Kenya, Tanzania, Malawi, Zambia, Botswana, and finally into South Africa, where the detailed itinerary read Joburg, Kestell, Bloemfontein, Port Alfred and then along the Garden Route to Cape Town.
“I was going to head through Lesotho, but one of my knees was playing up by then, and the riches of African cuisine had seen my weight balloon from 63 to 76kg. So the crazy climbing there would have hurt in more ways than I felt like experiencing.”
He made it to Franschhoek for the prologue of the Cape Rouleur – and to meet up with others who had flown out for that great event. He finished 106th out of 180-odd. Surely the first panniered bike to be time-trialled, officially, in the history of cycling.
The following weekend, it was time to line up for his first Cape Town Cycle Tour. Gary may have been one of the few riders who wouldn’t have minded the full ride, but he was soon in the swing of things, riding fully laden, except for an emptied front-left pannier, that now carried ice and beer. Might be wrong, but he may also have been the first person, in the 38-year history of the Argus’, to haul out his camping stove and brew a cuppa and have breakfast in the start chute…
In total, the trip took 91/2 months, in which time Gary covered 18 500km. The cost totalled around £6 000 (roughly R100k), which includes a fortnight living a normal life in Cape Town, and an expensive air ticket back to Britain.
“Actually, that wasn’t the plan, but my sister decided to get married, so I have to go. I was going to catch a lift with a merchant ship across to South America and continue the adventure… now I’m not sure what is next. Maybe South America, or maybe I’ll head towards Asia.”
Check out Gary’s website.
Weird, Man
“I was riding through the Sahara, and a Swiss-plated car slowed, stopped and reversed. The window rolled down: ‘Are you the guy riding across the desert?’ As the only cyclist in sight, the chances were… Turns out there was a Belgian bike tourer two days behind me, on the same route, who suggested a beer one night. He caught up, and we rode together for a big swathe of West Africa. He was only 21.”
Are you Mad
Security, obviously, was top of the worry list for the people back home. “I had so few problems. I think that is down to attitude, but you are also seen as non-threatening, and probably not worth robbing, on a bike. I had only one road-rage incident: a farmer a few hours into South Africa, who tried to ride me off the tar for some reason.”
Breakages
“I had three crashes – a girl on a moped took me out in Barcelona, a car side-swiped my pannier in Kenya, and I had to bail off the side of the road to avoid a speeding bus in Dakar. The panniers took a beating – they got a bit holey – and the one rack bent a little, but I was lucky in that respect. I went through three chains – I ran a Rohloff internal hub gear, so chain wear was less than with a derailleur. I did replace the rear sprocket once, but that was to move to a bigger 16-tooth, the 17 was a bit light. I chose Schwalbe Marathon tyres, I ended up replacing them in Tanzania after picking up five punctures in five days – before and after that I was puncture-free. The only other ‘let-down’ was in Mali, months earlier.”
Health is Wealth
“Apart from a bout of tick-bite fever in Joburg, and a bout of gippo- guts in Tanzania, I kept healthy the whole way down. I drank local water throughout – from taps, pumps, whatever. If the locals were okay with it, so was I. It worked out just fine, as did just mucking in with whoever, wherever for food.”
Best and Worst
“I couldn’t leave Malawi fast enough – beautiful country, beautiful people, but full of kids who like to throw stones at cyclists! And know three words of English ‘Give me money’. Begging was a constant through Africa; you get used to it, but there was a difference here, a menace.
“The winner… that is tricky, but if I had to choose, it is a tie between Tanzania and South Africa. The people in both are so hospitable, and the scenery is insanely varied and beautiful.”
Border Protocol
“Everyone warned me about bribes, and told me to budget and not to argue… but I approached it differently. I would just settle in, crank up the stove and make some tea. I never once failed to out-patience the border guys, eventually they would stamp the papers and wave me on. This process could take anywhere between a few hours and a few days – but the tea was always good.”
High-Low
Best moment: so many, but probably on the Elephant Highway, in Botswana. With real, live elephants, including the one that chased me as I took a photo of the lucky ellie belonging to my ex-girlfriend’s daughter, Rebekah, with the real one in the background…
Worst moment: probably looking at the huge map of Africa with current location at the top, and Cape Town at the bottom. But minutes later, there would have been something amazing to see…
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