July 14-15, 2016

The “road” was a battlefield, showing the scars from decades of erosion and disrepair. I use the term road loosely. This is Madagascar. More than ever, I was happy to be on a mountain bike. I weaved and zipped by the over-loaded taxi bruesses as they screeched to a near stop to navigate around the taxi bruesse sized craters in the road. Often times they would swerve into the on coming lane or far off the road to the right, essentially creating a new lane that too was nearly impassible. The road for the most part was dirt, sprinkled with occasional bits of pavement. The leg from Ankarana National Park to Diego marks the end of my bicycle tour in Madagascar. It is 110 km of this undulating and punishing road.

I left Ankarana just before 7 a.m. anticipating 6 hours of war. I was fully stocked up with a huge breakfast and plenty of road snacks. I had a quiet calm about me, the entire time reflecting on the fact that at the end of the day, I will have reached my final destination.  I have gotten so used to being on the go and figuring out the new hiccup or quirk that occurs literally every day.  In a weird way, the lack of predictability has been comforting.  Contemplative, yet in a small way…I’m a bit sad. It really is about the journey.

On the bike however, there are few things more frustrating than grinding to the top of a climb and instead of being rewarded with an exhilarating and restorative descent, I am forced to ride my brakes the entire way down, navigating around the aforementioned battlefield of mortar shelled bomb holes that littered the road. Welcome to Madagascar because nothing is ever easy. This was my entire day…and I loved it. At one point, I rolled past a broken down taxi bruesse. One of the men who was trying to fix it stopped abruptly and came running across the road as I approached…just to give me a high five. It made me laugh out loud. Little things. The human experience. This has been my Madagascar. I have been frustrated, confused, humbled, and knocked down plenty of times, but small things like this just resets the score.

Sixty kilometers into my 110km day, I was feeling strong. I had all the food and water that I needed to get me to Diego. Instead, I stopped at an epicerie and ordered 3 glasses of local yogurt, just to soak up a little more of the experience. At 90km, the road straightened, became less damaged, tilted slightly downhill…and a tailwind came up. Life was once again giving me a high five.

I rolled into Diego at 2pm and quickly found the hotel that my friend from Andilana had recommended, complete with electricity, hot water, and WIFI. I haven’t had any of those, let alone ALL of them, in the past 5 days. I took a hot shower, cut my hair (yes that matters), ate a huge meal, got my internet fix…then crashed. I awoke after 9 hours of motionless, near comatose sleep (without a barking dog at 2 a.m.)…feeling anew. Two things I woke up craving and this will sound odd…q-tips and a gym…neither of which I have seen in 2 months and both of which I found. Simple things. Small victories. High five.

Excited to see hills again

This was actually an easier part to navigate

Probably can fit a bike up there or some chickens

Old hotel in Diego

Old hotel in Diego

View from the gym

Old school Rocky Balboa gym, but better views than from Philly

The “Body Center” for “musculation”