My unit in Nairobi…the one I wasn’t supposed to be in 🤣

I spent my last day in India in the company of Professor Giri, a friend of Asraf and an altogether wonderful human being! As a leading international writer and scholar of political sciences I had a great day walking, talking and reflecting with him. He introduced me to one of his media friends who then took it upon himself to interview me about life on the road on a bicycle!
Once I’d packed up and Bob was tucked in his bike box it was time to leave India for Kenya. I had heard the night before that my fathers condition had noticeably deteriorated so the next few days or weeks may well be interrupted to travel home – why, that sounds very familiar! But it is what it is and I’m only too willing to get back when the time comes.
My short trip to the airport was uneventful, as was all the fuffing about that comes with pushing Bob and box through a crowded airport. Right to the end india continued to frustrate me – I was waiting for my front bike bag which I carry as hand luggage to be inspected at security as it always sets off the screening with all its electrical bits….so the guy starts to take things out. All good. Then another guy comes through security and starts chatting to the guy rifling through my bag….clearly they were old mates. Then another. Before long they’re all having a right old chat, showing photos and loads of back slapping, all the while I’m there waiting to catch my plane. After 15 minutes I got a little fed up and started repacking my bag and just strolled off!

The Air India flight to Nairobi was equally uneventful – it was on time too!! My heart warmed when the captain announced the ground temperature was 26 degrees….bring it on!!

On it came too!! The guy I booked the hotel with who said he’d collect me….didn’t. So a lovely cab driver took me to the location…. which wasn’t a hotel! Bizarrely we ended up in a place we understood was the unit I’d booked, the key was made available, so I went in and slept….only to discover the next day it wasn’t at all the place I’d booked 🤣. The owner of the previously booked hotel ghosted me, but it turned out grand as I sorted to stay another night in this other unit.

After a day of resting and just checking the route ahead I set off on Wednesday towards Mombasa along the aptly named Mombasa Road. Whilst it was busy and dusty and lumpy I was so appreciative of the trucks taking their time passing and tooting me. People are so friendly here and it helps that English is widely spoken. It was increasingly warm as the industrial suburbs of Nairobi gave way to open savanna. And of course…,a delightful headwind! But I was able to plod along spinning up the hills and rolling equally slowly down the other side. My dynamo had packed up meaning I had to use my powerbanks to charge the phone for navigation, so I need to get that fixed.

I let out a whoop when I saw my first African wildlife – one, then two, then more giraffes gracefully walking across the landscape. Whilst the road was less than engaging (other than trying to miss the millions of shards of glass in the gutter of the road where I had to ride)….the chance to see wildlife kept the interest up and the k’s looked after themselves 😊. As the afternoon sun started to take its toll I managed to find a hotel after crawling up this stinger on a climb….and those first twinges of cramp started to emerge! They not only emerged but erupted after I got off Bob. The hotel was actually very pleasant- miles from anywhere, no shops or community near by but everything I needed was here. I got to fixing the dynamo which I eventually got working again then had a fruitless hour trying to get accommodation for the next night, without success!

On day two I headed further inland towards Mombasa along the main highway. There were times I was completely alone as the road meandered through small villages and open savanna. Cycling here is really good as there’s a hard shoulder, spoilt only by the constant smashed glass ….quite how so much glass could get here is beyond me….often I’d have to get off Bob to walk around metres of broken glass. Quite how I haven’t got a puncture is equally unfathomable!

I found a place to rest after 90 odd Ks. To say it’s a hotel is an affront to hotels! You get shown this tiny ‘cabin’ with a tiny bed, no fan to help reduce the heat, a hole for a toilet, and that’s about it! But for $10 what else could one expect! As I’m heading east the mercury is rising – expected tops of 36 and only dropping to 28 at night!

I’ve come to a decision….and it wasn’t a hard one ….to get back to London to see my father. His condition is noticeably deteriorating and to be honest it seems a bit frivolous to be cycling whilst he lies in his bed. The roads will always be here. He won’t. And I don’t think I could forgive myself if I had the chance to be there with him in his final weeks or months but put my cycling ahead of that option! Quite how I’m gonna get from here to there remains a complex challenge but I’m confident it can be done 😊

The tiny alleys of Varanasi old town

Reflecting on India

Often when one reads about people’s experiences in India words that get overused include ‘contradictory’, ‘fascinating’, ‘exhausting’, ‘frustrating’ ‘friendly.’.
All of those apply to my short time here.
It is a place that has taught me many things and whilst what I planned didn’t materialise I’m so pleased I tried.

The first thing I learnt was…do your homework. I had read that the best time to visit is December through February, so I thought I was on the pigs back landing in January. Wrong. The one thing I failed to factor in was that pollution in India sky rockets in the cooler months as the fumes and smog can’t escape in to the atmosphere. So the AQI stays well over 200, often over the 300 mark. The pollution had an immediate and significant impact on my health almost straight away, to the point now, two weeks in, I can’t walk up two flights of stairs without stopping for breath! My heart, which was working wonderfully after the procedure in October is now bouncing around like a butterfly! So the decision to leave wasn’t a hard one! I no longer feel the need to stay up on a self imposed cross in some self flagellating pose. My health is more important than proving something to myself or anyone else.

Secondly, I’ve learnt that Indian people are generous and kind. Despite their own challenges, they never cease to amaze how important it is to them to treat travellers as guests, as friends. This kind of display of unselfish kindness is a dying thing in so many ‘western’ or so called ‘advanced’ countries where ‘me-ism’ dominates. Yes, life here is very different to what I may be accustomed to, but that does not reveal itself in an impoverished approach to complete strangers. They are a proud people who love their country. I’m pleased for them that they have such pride, though it’s not a blind pride – I have had many discussions with Indians about all that is troublesome to them with their homeland, and they show great insight and awareness, and recognise that they however are somewhat stuck in trying to solve these wicked problems. As one guy said to me – in western cultures they have systems but they don’t work. In India we don’t have any system but somehow it works’ I guess the term ‘work’ is a loaded and contextual term!

Thirdly, it’s clear that anything and everything can and is solved here…..but you need buckets of patience and ….cash! Necessity being the mother of all inventions certainly is demonstrated here every day. It’s a bit like ‘she’ll be right mate’ in Aussie slang, tho there it can also can mean ‘yeah, right, that ain’t gonna work’ whereas here, it has to work!

Fourthly. I have gained insights in to just how utterly complex the climate crisis is when you see the ‘engine room ’ of the crisis unfolding every day here. People everywhere sit in doorways with a little bowl of wood burning to keep warm. Old engines spew out unfathomable levels of toxic gas. There is rubbish everywhere and open sewers in the absence of any facilities. There are a billion people crammed in to a finite space. So yep, I get the reusable plastic bags and recycling but when you see what real pollution looks like, I’m left scratching my head as to how any of that first world ‘green’ push can counteract this. I can only hope that the best and brightest here, and there are many, are dedicating themselves to this seemingly intractable problem.

Fifth, there’s the thorny issue of the role caste and religion play in this society. There seems to be a blind acceptance that where you are in this life is where you are, and moving through the caste system is deeply challenging. Even in death there is no equality – those that have shrouds get placed on an alter pyre to burn. Those lower down….a few twigs are thrown together in to a bundle away from the main area and are burnt there. I watched as one day a bag containing a human was being cremated – they were poor, there was no family. No ceremony. Just a police officer taking a photo of the burning body as evidence he had carried out his duties. And young people lighting their cigarettes on the street pyre. I, along with another guy, felt compelled to stand next to this person – no one should leave this world alone.  I have also learnt the art of gracefully and gratefully receiving help, especially here as to offer help and have it refused is frowned on. These past weeks have been challenging and I only got through with the help of countless and selfless individuals as well as one man’s Guardian angel approach to making sure I arrived and left on time. I have been fed, watered and accommodated and I’m eternally grateful to Asraf and his wonderful office manager Adrisha.

I have also learnt patience. Those who know me well know I’m not known for my patience! But india, and travelling generally, teaches you patience. With traffic, with things that don’t work, with barking dogs and delays in just about everything! There have been a few moments which severely tested me but I’d give myself 6 out of 10 overall….about 6 more than would have been the case a few years ago!! I’ve learnt to lean on my partner and friends too as a release valve ….they have always been there with a supporting word.

Lastly I think I’ve learnt the limits of my tolerance towards invasion of space as well as cleanliness. In India there is NO privacy. None. Sitting typing on your phone, people gather round and read without batting an eyelid. Reading a menu and some guy walks in and takes it out of my hand without asking or acknowledging me. Blood stained sheets and mould infested sinks. People constantly pushing and shoving. Rats and mice everywhere. And being constantly asked for selfies!! I’m pretty tolerant of having dirty clothes to wear or even shoddy conditions, that’s all part of the travel experience, especially on a budget and in foreign lands. But eventually it wears you down. You know the next accommodation is going to be the exact same as this one. They’ll be noise pollution and physical pollution. Dogs will howl all night. People will clear their throats loudly and gee, as for spitting and peeing and crapping in the open sewers (and I do get that for many that is their only option)….well, the accumulated impacts of that are very visceral.

I spent 4 days in Varanasi and I’m glad I did, tho I was pleased to leave too!
I wandered each day to the old quarter where there are no cars but hundreds of tiny, crowded alleyways filled with tiny shops. I found a great German bakery which was a great meeting spot for us rambling sort. I also connected with a ‘slum school’ (their words not mine) and volunteered there a few times -such a humbling experience. This is a small private enterprise run by one guy offering food and some basic schooling to slum/ street children. I wandered to the two main burning ghats and to countless other ghats to see spiritual gurus in trance like states, while westerners sought out their 500grams of self enlightenment!
Getting out of Varanasi was the biggest challenge, as the flights were routinely cancelled due to smog and fog, which meant my schedule of connecting flights was not going to happen. I found an agent who tried to get me on the train to New Delhi. It’s a bizarre system here. I think it goes something like ‘I can see you’re a walking ATM so I’ll charge you double for a seat’. Me – ‘that’s grand. Just get me that seat’ Them – ‘well, hold your horses, what actually happens is you pay me a massive amount of cash, I take that cash, and you get to be on a wait list for that seat’. Me – oh, so I’m not purchasing a seat, just an opportunity to be on a list for said seat ….that’s correct?’ Yes!
So having parted with cash I was told to return the next day at 7 to see if I had been lucky to get a seat. If not, I’d have to come back the next day! That’s how it works! But as it so happened I did secure a seat which meant a mad dash back to hotel about 3 Ks away, get a tuk tuk to the station with Bob on the roof, and then get on a train optimistically called the Super Express Train! It was super….super super slow. I think we averaged 30kph. The smog and fog meant that the train could barely move…on many occasions we stood for over an hour going nowhere. But this is India and time is relative! Not having food in the slow boat to New Delhi was an issue however! Especially as three meal times came and went!! We arrived some 12 hours after the expected ETA with no announcement or explanation…it was late, get over it! It was an extremely testing time I must confess, and merely added to my anxiety to get away from India as soon as I could! I don’t doubt it has one or two more gifts to give yet before the wheels of the plane leave the ground here in New Delhi!

On the ‘super fast express’….honestly, that’s its name 🤣

Stopped at a local bike shop….no shimano parts here!

India – the gift that keeps on giving!

Sunday: After a breakfast of cold omelette and roti I set off today towards the main Highway to Varanasi on a mission to get on to it tomorrow with a view to gadging a lift from a passing truck or van. The road out of town was actually not too bad – it’s Sunday and therefore less commercial traffic on the road. About 20 minutes in I had to stop at a train crossing. This is quite a sight to see, with literally hundreds of vehicles piled up on either side of a dilapidated crossing gate. And as soon as the last carriages of the train had gone through, the race was on to get through the bottleneck – it was a scene from the Whacky Races! Funny enough I got across almost first – I’m getting good at barging my way in and playing the ‘I can’t seeee you’ game!

As has become the norm now, I found a street tea stop in as quiet a place as I could – I ride through the towns in the full knowledge that I’ll be mobbed. But the small villages where the cattle outnumber the people I fancy my odds a bit better! And as is the norm, a complete stranger paid for my food and drink.

I only had 65 to do so it was lovely to plod along at around 20kph. Until it wasn’t. As I got closer to the town I was staying in, the traffic became unbelievable. Out of nowhere cars appeared and then everything ground to a halt. Nothing was moving. There was even an ambulance trying to get through but in India, road real estate is given up for no one or nothing. I had to cope with three such blockades which did little to help my pollution sickness. What bemused and simultaneously frustrated me was, with nothing moving, drivers of all vehicles were sitting on their horns as if magically that would clear them a path! It was like a pencil with no lead -pointless! And one other sight confirmed to me that the buses were the most lethal thing on the road. As I was leaving a town on a bend, a bus coming the other way hurtling towards congestion on their side came round the bend sideways – I exaggerate not. It was sideways, such was it’s speed….and it had feck all intentions of slowing down for the looming congestion….I braced for the sound of metal on metal but it didn’t come!

I got to my next $&ithole of a hotel around 2 which was good as I had time to clean the bike and relax away from the fumes. Tomorrow, and the next few hundred K to Varanasi, are going to present some interesting challenges. I’ve not booked any accommodation because my hope is to get a truck or van as far up the road as I can. If that fails I’ll ride to the next town and try get a room. One of the things that brings some comfort is knowing your next night is booked….so when you set out riding with nothing booked, it adds a new layer of stress, but one way or another I need to get to Varanasi…..it’s my ticket out of India!

….that gift….keeps on giving….

Monday – Today I awoke with the dreaded Delhi Belly, tho in truth it wasn’t too bad – a slight fever and the need to be very close to a loo! Feck knows what I ate or drank, but it seems a lottery on any given day…some ya win, some ya don’t! And today was a national holiday due to some opening of a Hindu temple (on a previous Muslim mosque site, so a source of quite some religious tension) so nothing was moving anyway – Indians do religious holidays very loudly and at full bore, so streets were closed with loud speakers blaring out stuff followed by adoring Hindu ‘fans’ as they waved flags and chanted. I wasn’t going anywhere today! My friend Asraf, the guardian angel of Kolkata, was able to pull a few strings and connect me with a local friend of his who duly arranged a truck for me tomorrow to Varanasi 😊. This guy then takes it upon himself to entertain me for half the day, taking me to a tea place, then to his gated community where there were chants and celebrations to be had for the residents. Quite an experience tho a bit boring waiting for the 1008 chants to Lord Ram (in whose honour the temple was built for) to be completed between the attendees. There was food galore (which I had none, so as to starve the stomach bug out of me) as well as fireworks which were more like bombs. Each time one went off I jumped out of my skin.
I returned to my room to discover that there was a wedding this evening in the hotel hall, so I kissed goodbye to any hope of getting any sleep tonight! But that’s ok – I’m in India so….go with it! As it turned out it was an engagement function in an arranged marriage. I was of course invited, as is the way here, so I stayed to watch the main proceedings with fascination.

Tuesday: I was collected this morning at 6:30 for the drive to Varanasi. It wasn’t too long distance wise but it took nearly 8 hours. I have never been so continuously grateful than I was throughout those 8 hours, as it was quickly established that there was no way in hell one could ride a bike on this road, the main ‘expressway’! What it served up was unrelenting roadworks which were dust bowls of chaos, the pollution was so intense and the fog reminiscent of a scene from Oliver Twist. There was absolutely nothing engaging about this route. Nothing to break the monotony or distract from the ever present carnage…..trucks tipped over, tuk tuks pushed off the road, cows meandering amidst the carnage….often causing it….tractors on the fast lane (not, by the way, wishing to imply there were any ‘lanes’ ), underpassing, over passing, through- passing…..I made that last one up, but the general principle is that when someone is in your way, you just go through them ….but as long as you used your horn, all good! Then there’s the countless vehicles on the wrong side of the road, indignant should anyone indicate that perhaps they might want to try going with the flow, not against it! And all done with feck all visibility…..because there isn’t enough risk! In truth I reckon 60% of the road was road works….not the sort we might be accustomed to, with traffic lights and lane closures. No….what I mean is the road simply disappears whilst they build a new section, throwing all the vehicles on to a temporary track of dust and rubble with both sides of the three lane highway collapsed in to two ‘lanes’….hahaha I used that work again, lane…..no such thing here. I think our average speed was 35kph….on the ‘Express….way’!

I was dropped about 20 km out Varanasi and I cycled in to the town, riding over the river Ganges for the first time. As has now become the norm, where Booking dot com says a hotel is and where it’s actually located are two different things, so the inevitable ‘where the f$&k is my hotel’ dance ensued. Eventually found it about a K from where it was supposed to be, down a tiny Varanasi back alley.

Once showered and fed I headed to the Ganges and the various Gnats very close by, including one of the burning gnats….the crematoria’s along the banks of the Ganges. Having read up about the ritual and seen it on TV it was incredibly humbling to bear witness to this aspect of Indian culture. I was transfixed by the process and the ‘naturalness’ of it all….death being part of life, ‘ashes to ashes’ and so on. I had expected there to be quite a smell but that simply wasn’t the case. And there just didn’t seem to be anything ghoulish about watching bodies burn – there was a respectful silence and observance of the rituals and no wailing or mourning….in fact it seemed so matter of fact, with children playing with their kites not 15 metres away….life goes on.

One of the things I’ve really missed on this part of my journey home has been things to see, places of interest to visit. The route has been monumentally boring in terms of distracting vistas and engaging places to visit. But today there was, finally, something to stand back and engage with, which was such a pleasure- even tho the point of interest was the passing of one’s spirit from this life to whatever was to be next for this Hindu person.

The Hindi festival to celebrate the opening of a new temple

Day Four

I’ve just read my last post and laughed at my final comment about being ‘ready for bed’…it would have been even funnier had I said ‘sleep’! Because that was the missing ingredient in this hotel….the actual ability to sleep. Aside from feck all privacy….the owner or security guard would simply walk straight in to my room, as if I was in their personal living room! But that aside, as I lay down completely buggered I was immediately stirred by what can only be described as something akin to the Hounds of the Baskerville. Right next to the hotel was a piece of waste land which must have been the meeting place for every wild dog from a 20k radius. They howled, barked, whined, pined….it was a deafening racket the likes of which I’d never heard before. And it was unrelenting. I saw every hour come and go….I think out of exhaustion my body succumbed to sleep around 5:30. What added insult to injury was the hotel manager asking for a High grade review. He was promptly disabused of any possibility of that! Which he took in good form and still insisted on a selfie!

I made my way out of town amidst the usual chaos….funny enough the traffic, while utterly ridiculously chaotic, doesn’t faze me much – I just do my own thing. The buses are however the worst….they I presume have no brakes which explains the stupidity of their attacking stance on the road….I’ve been brushed three times by buses passing me, and pushed off the road the same amount by buses coming towards oncoming traffic forcing anything and anyone off the road! What is so so ironic is that so many trucks, vans and buses have signs plastered across the rear of the vehicle proclaiming the merits of ‘Obey the Rules of the Road’ (of which there are none!) or ‘Use your horn’ which they do on a permanent basis. In other parts of the world a vehicle right-off would be something like a smashed gear box, or vehicular structural damage. A right off here would surely be ‘Horn does not work’!

Todays weather was better but the pollution still sky high and I’m beginning to really feel the impacts – my resting heart rate has gone from 55-60 to 75-80, my lungs are chucking up some pretty revolting gunk and I’m getting headaches and general fatigue. Riding with a mask on is making my already compromised breathing more difficult.

As with other days, tea stops resulted in staring and mass gatherings, but incredible generosity. Like the other day, some guy pulls up a number of times alongside me asking for a selfie to which I ignored. He then pulls up again and this time I indicate I’d like to hang on to his motorbike – I was really struggling with breathing. He politely agreed and then asked for a selfie….duly given. He then took me to not one but two tea shops. I had tea in both plus 7-Up …. And he insisted on paying no matter my protestations. This is the story of India – a place where its people who genuinely care for strangers. Despite clear poverty and lack of means, there is no lack of sharing and hospitality. A bunch of 4 lads on a moped insisted on another tea stop!
By the time I arrived at Purulia I was done. The impacts of the pollution was now becoming overwhelming and it was increasingly clear I had to stop. I have my heart monitored through an app provided by my heart surgeon team (as part of post op follow through) and each day I submit two readings. These were telling their own story which was being analysed back in Adelaide. The advice was unambiguous….leave now!
I’m not sure how I’m gonna do that as I’m truly in the back arse of nowhere but the aim will be to try get to Varanasi by some means and fly out from there. I’ve always wanted to go to Varanasi and being so close I’m not going to miss it. It just won’t be on my bike!

Day Five – rest and recover!

I made the decision last night to extend my stay by one day as I’m simply exhausted from the pollution and besides, this was the first hotel I stayed in where I could do that rarest of things…sleep. The food is good too.
I spent the day with the help of Ashraf from Kolkata trying to find a way to get to Varanasi….without success. Trains are fully booked, buses….forget it! So I’ll have to suck it up (literally!) and try get there through cycling slowly over the next week.

I took the time to also walk around (with mask!) the bustling streets. I found a great tea spot and also some wonderful street food – no meat for me but roti and egg roll is delicious.

I have been constantly moved almost to tears seeing the abject poverty here. I have a choice to be here, to live my best life. There is no choice here. You’re born in to poverty and there you stay. To see the wretchedness of old and young alike eeking out a survival from each day is gut wrenching. Theirs is not a life by any definition – it is survival. And if you’re ‘lucky’ enough to do that today….tomorrow serves up the same grief and pain. People pass these people by as if they were invisible. Cows get more attention and status. I want to scream ‘this person too is a human being’. What I found most disturbing was that people would defecate and urinate literally right next to these people on the street, as if they simply were not there. The streets are open sewers where those who are destitute try to survive. It is truly a humbling and equally distressing experience. India truly is a country of extremes and contradictions.

I spent what was left of the day just resting best I could. Reading, writing, chatting to Niamh, Lu and friends on line, and pondering how I’m going to get to Varanasi!!

Bob after a day of riding through the Hell of the north….in India!

Day Two and Three

On my first night on the road I stayed in Kanchrapara – a bustling township. The hotel wasn’t easy to find but once located it was reasonable – the standard of things here is pretty low so I’m adjusting slowly to expecting filth, dirt and poor room quality….so far, my assumptions have been correct! The food in the hotel was good though bloody spicy despite asking for ‘no spice’!

I took a stroll through the crazy night market and as has become the way here, you’re accosted at every opportunity. One shop owner called out (as they all do) ‘where you from’ so I got chatting. He offered tea which duly arrived in what must be the smallest plastic cup – about 6ml! This, I have come to learn, is the norm!
The next day I headed out towards Bardhaman around 85k away. As I’ve cycles along you are constantly asked for selfies, along with ‘where you from’. There is no privacy here in India -you’re fair game to be stared at. One guy pulled alongside on his motorbike and started chatting. At first I ignored as I was fed up being asked for selfies. But we struck up a conversation and I asked him for a tea stop which he duly took me to. A tiny hut serving micro tea full of sugar! No sooner had I stopped I was immediately surrounded by around 20 people all shoving to get a look at me and the bike. The tea shop owner allowed me and Bob to go inside the tiny hut to get away from the enlarging mass of humanity that was now outside! She was such a lovely person- desperately poor, worked from 7 to 11, 7 days a week, serving tea. After three cups I made my get away!
The rest of the day was just tough tough cycling on roads falling apart, roadworks, traffic, noise and increasing pollution. I was really struggling even with a mask. I arrived at the destination Booking dot com said hotel homestay was….but it wasn’t! Calling the place proved pointless as they just hung up. But as always in India someone came to my rescue and I soon found my third shithole hotel – that’s the only word for these places. Festering shitholes. This one has the added bonus of being under reconstruction so it was noisy with building works. Which complimented the incessant noise of horns and traffic right outside my road facing room!

Today I awoke to rain. Great for reducing pollution, crap for the condition of the roads! Once out of town I turned on to the road to Bankura. When I say road….picture a farm track, full of mud and cow shit, and you’ll be close! Bob was being thrown all over the shop and I came a cropper a few times!

I stopped in this tiny village for tea and was again thronged with local folk. But a village elder got people away and sat with me chatting away – it was a surreal moment, one of those that only comes from travel in these places. He insisted on paying for my tea and cookies too!

The rest of the day was, quite frankly, nothing short of horrendous. The road was unrelenting in its efforts to convert to being an ice skating rink, and the rain was torrential at times. Bob was slowly grinding to a halt, as was I. I was knackered and the final 20k were interminable. 100k in the rain in India is a testing experience!

The hotel was pretty good except it was next to a Hindi festival and feck me….do the Indians like ear crushing volume! It’s like being next to a rock stadium in full swing. The owner her me is great. Whilst fleecing me, he was able to provide a hot meal and coffee (with 95% sugar saturation levels!) and allowed me to wash Bob. When it came to my shower I turned it on….only cold water! I asked what was wrong….only to realise I was! The shower head only delivers cold water. There’s a bucket and a hot water tap….pour the hot water in to the bucket. And then use the scoop to pour water over you. Fool….why didn’t I work that out!!

So after about 60 selfies (I’m not exaggerating), 100 Ks, two falls and a bucket shower, I’m ready for bed!!

Coffee stop number two