Day 10 - Aleppo to Homs

Only two days are left but as the saying goes “it ain't over till the fat lady sings”.

Whilst Alan is giving his standard briefing and Fr. Pierre gives us his blessing, Mario and the rest of the drivers sort out the vehicles, branding them with Lifecycle stickers, making them recognisable for us when on the road.

Prior to leaving we all have one last look around to ensure we left nothing behind and off we go. I am quite relieved to see that we will be escorted by a police vehicle on our way out of Aleppo. I have never experienced such crazy driving as I did in Aleppo - not even in Malta! As we go along, traffic police salute us as we go by. It is very apparent that they are not used to seeing a bunch of cyclist riding en masse, battling the chaotic traffic they are entrusted to control.

Briefly stopping to get one final briefing before taking on the road, Alan reminds us of our timings. We are raring to go. The sooner we start the closer we will get to Damascus. Jesmond teams up with Robert and myself and together we pick up a good pace.

The road promises to be boring today, as we are cycling on the highway leading to Homs from Aleppo. Picking up an average speed of 23 kilometres per hour, we soon find ourselves at the first checkpoint where we are greeted by an amazed Alan and Shirley. The hot weather does not entice me to eat the staple fare, especially flapjacks – which we realise have expired and have become impossible to chew. Nevertheless with a lot of effort I manage to eat one and drink a litre bottle of cold water in the process. Filling up our bottles, which I know will become hot in a few minutes, we proceed.

Till now, I am feeling great. My knees and ankle are miraculously not giving any signs of bother, so much so that I actually removed all strapping and bandages and am feeling strong . As the day progresses into the afternoon, the driving becomes more chaotic. Cycling through the traffic becomes a slalom course. Although we are keeping to the side of the highway, we encounter traffic going in the opposite direction on our 'lane'. What a difference when compared to the respect shown by Turkish drivers.

No need for strapping!

A close shave that could have had tragic consequences was a result of such driving from Syrian motorists. Cycling next to each other on the side of the road, we suddenly we find a motorcyclist driving straight into Robert's direction. Immediately I shout to grab Robert's attention. Just in the nick of time, as Robert manages to avoid the motorcyclist. All of us instinctively swerve to the left, a chain reaction we had no other alternative to. Jes, being on the edge of the hard shoulder swerved onto the motorway. Seeing his sudden movement, I thought he would be hit by one of the speeding cars. I closed my eyes.. Thankfully Jes managed to edge back in but was left in complete shock, like the rest of us. The usually relaxed Jes had to stop to catch his breath. I shudder to think what the consequences could have been that day. It certainly was an eye opening making us realise how extra careful we must be on these roads.

Reaching Checkpoint 3 we are in for a treat – Ice! Perfect to put on our aching joints and perfect to cool us down. With temperatures reaching approximately 43 degrees, I decided to cool down by putting some cubes in my cycling top. The heat would not make them last long, but for those few minutes it would be bliss.

Syrian roads are dotted with President's Assad smiling face

The roads in Syria, compared to those of Turkey, are a case of you win some, you lose some. Whilst the driving is chaotic and dangerous, the tarmac resembles more the kind of tarmac we are used to, minus the potholes, so it makes cycling a bit easier. Being relatively flat roads, I am able to keep up with Jesmond's pace. The only incline is around Amanos but it is nothing compared to the hill we had in Belen or in the early days.

The heat is unbearable and Robert and I stop a couple of times to buy water, half of which is poured on our heads, soaking our bandanna in the hope of getting a couple of minutes respite. The rest of the water is gulped down in a few seconds. Because the heat is so intense I am not managing to eat enough and thus my energy supplies are low. I eat sweets in an attempt to get my sugar levels stable but it doesn't seem enough and I start slowing down.

Reaching the next checkpoint I have the luxury of sitting in an air-conditioned van, while Fran massages my ankle, which till now has not yet played up. The heat has really clammed up my stomach and I really can't bring myself to eat even though I need to give myself some sort of energy source. Alan comes to the rescue with a concoction called Muscle Juice – the name is enough to churn my stomach but the powder mixed with cold water actually tastes like a hazelnut milkshake. Just before leaving, Paul wets my bandanna with ice cold water which provides such a relief in the sweltering heat. Alan, tells us, before we set off, that we are only around 20kms away from the accommodation We should soon be home.

A welcome physio break

He was wrong. With my GPS showing that we had already covered 30kms we start to get worried. In the meantime Jesmond catches up with us again. We start to get concerned and Soner's previous warnings not to take the road to Baghdad comes to haunt us. In reality we haven't seen the signs yet so hoping for the best we keep on cycling along the straight road. 5 kilometres later we see the signs – Baghdad, Lebanon. Hurray we are on the right track. We are only a few kilometres away from a country that was the cradle of civilisation now a war torn country. The road signs provide us with an amazing surge of energy – fuelled by the prospect of a warm shower and hot tasty meal.

In a few moments we see Soner waiting for us. Clocking us in he is surprised to see us. We are the first to arrive and he is visibly impressed. We have definitely gained on our time! Our enthusiasm at arriving first quickly fades when we see the state of the accommodation, which is an inter-faith retreat place. We are instructed not to speak to the residents and try to keep the noise levels as low as possible since they are in prayer. The sleeping areas are made up of tents and gypsy caravans. Both are quite dirty and flee ridden. The showers, although having warm water, are dirty so having a shower requires a balancing act. I decide to sleep in the truck, so I dump my sleeping stuff nearby.

Kitchen facilities are pre-historic, and I find a very frustrated kitchen team trying to prepare supper. Although cooking in such a situation is a nightmare for them they still whip up an excellent plate of pasta which sends us asking for second helpings! We also have fresh bread, which saw them almost crossing into Lebanon to buy!

An hour after we arrived, other cyclists start to trickle in. It is now dark when Nicholas, Lenny and Luke phone to say they are close to the Lebanese border and lost. They are tired and by the time they reach the accommodation, Lenny is not feeling well and they are not the happiest of bunnies. Julian and Simon are also late in arriving, with Julian still suffering from acute stomach cramps. One has to admire the tenacity of such cyclists who don't give up even when they are feeling unwell. However, sometimes illness strikes and there is no option but to stop. That's what happened to Ian who was suffering from acute gastric problems that not even an injection from Steph managed to control. Very upsetting when one considers all the effort carried out throughout the challenge.

Although the facilities are basic the atmosphere in the camp is good and light hearted. The boys start singing and playing the bongos. Liz and I had retired into the truck to sleep but were kept awake with the noise and laughter. Resigned, I took my sleeping bag and collapsed into the musty caravan. I was too tired to think of anything else and I really wanted to have enough energy to carry on with the last day.

As I settle into my sleeping bag I cannot help but think about tomorrow. I visualise the finish line which now is obviously feeling closers than ever. I try to imagine my reaction to reaching the final checkpoint. Will I cry or will I be too shattered to feel anything? My timings are good and unless some catastrophe happens I will be well in time to finish. Having said that I cannot let my guard down.

I have to stay focused for the last 150 kilometres.

Day 9 - Hatay to Aleppo

Damascus is getting closer. The feeling starts to sink in this morning as Alan, during his daily briefing reminds us to carry our passports with us. He and Fr. Pierre also give us some quick tips on Border protocol – removal of helmet and sunglasses, no animated conversations or loud laughter.

Going through the route card for the day

The border is approximately 60 kilometres away. Escorted for the last time by a police escort we all leave together. There will be no timings until we reach the border but we are urged to cycle as fast as possible, which admittedly is very annoying especially when the order is given from the interior of an air-conditioned van.

Approaching the Syrian border

As we get closer to the Syrian border, the heat levels start to increase drastically. The cold water in my bottle has become warm, good enough to make a cup of tea. The roads are quiet country roads, and we encounter little traffic. As we reach the 30km mark, we stop to get cold water and snacks. A packed lunch has been prepared for us and will be taken at the border whilst our passports will be vetted by border officials.

The approach to the border finds us cycling through a long line of trucks, carrying all sorts of goods. We enjoy this line as it offers us some shade and respite from the strong sun, which is beating strongly on us even though it is still mid morning. I shudder to think of what is in store for us in the afternoon hours.

Turkish - Syrian Border

Leaving Turkey is a sombre affair. Our passports are stamped as we exit in a group. Past the border into no man's land we cycle for a few kilometres through dry, barren and unwelcoming landscapes. A few cars drive slowly past us.

No Man's Land

A few moments later we reach the Syrian border. Soner takes our passports and advises us that this procedure might take long. We settle down in an sheltered open area where an influx of cars, buses and truck pass at a steady pace after having passed a thorough inspection process. A sign “Welcome to Assad's Syria” greets us. Obeying Alan's instructions we sit down and eat our snacks. Francesca decides to carry out some physio much to the disgust of the male Arab travellers. They are shocked to see a woman, although modestly dressed, touching a male's thighs in public.

The people I love were only a message away!

During our three hour wait, Alan informs me that my timings have improved considerably but he wants to help us so he will organise the cyclist groups in such a way that the faster cyclists like Jesmond, Pierre and Willie will ride with us so that they can set the pace for us. Shortly after our passports are returned to us, and we can continue on our journey. Alan reminds us that Syria should be flatter than Turkey so hopefully we will get a bit of respite.

Jesmond, teams up with me and Robert and we set off at Jesmond's pace. The roads are mainly flat although there are some undulations with some steep inclines. I find it quite a task to keep up with Jesmond. Looking at my GPS I find that I am keeping an average speed of 22kilometres an hour. The heat is becoming unbearable and although my water bottles are full the water is almost boiling making it unfit for drinking. My heart rate is rising, whereas normally it averages 112 beats per minute, here it was reaching 150 beats. Thankfully we soon have a water stop and end up pouring water on my head to cool down. I can't wait for the next checkpoint.

Jesmond picks up the pace again, so fast that I can barely keep up with him. Turning round to keep an eye on my progress he encourages me, slowing down a bit. The heat is immense and I am parched. My water bottle is already empty. I have no Syrian money so we cannot stop to buy drinks. Thankfully, after about 20 minutes, although they did seem like an eternity, we see the backup truck and the welcome “Checkpoint” sign. Paul greets me with his trademark smile. What happened next is a blur as all I remember is telling him to hold the bike. Then I faint falling down in the middle of the road. Thankfully Robert is near by and manages to break my fall. Soner carries me to a nearby bench. I remember a flurry of activity and voices. I could hear Nicholas, from a distance, urging them to give me Diarolyte and Jesmond giving me a foul tasting drink, whilst someone else is calling on Steph the doctor to come quickly. Someone wets my bandanna with cold water and puts it over my head whilst someone holds my legs up so that the blood starts flowing properly. I feel Steph putting on a cuff, inflating it and monitoring my blood pressure. The heat has caused it to go down hence the fainting fit. I feel so embarrassed by all this and try to wave off the attention it has generated. I ask for my bike so that I can continue to go to the next checkpoint but Alan tells me that this was the final one and that I could ride into Aleppo in one of the backup vans. It seems that I have gained quite a lot of time today, even though I felt as if I was going to kill myself in the process. AT least I can sleep a bit easier tonight even though it's far from over.!

Going to our accommodation we drive to some of the main stress in Aleppo. The driving is chaotic and treacherous. Drivers, completely ignore traffic warden instructions even though they are frantically waving their hands and blowing their whistles forcefully. Driving is a matter of “survival of the fittest” it seems. More like a dodgems fun park scenario than a historical city. Having a police escort helps although it seems that drivers have little regard for authority when it comes to driving. Shirley, who is travelling in the same backup vehicle as I am closes her eyes. She cannot bear to look at what the cyclists are driving through.

Our accommodation in Aleppo is a Jesuit residence which also serves as a school. Therese and her team quickly settle down and start preparing dinner, whilst the rest of us prepare our beds for the night. Quickly realising that there are only two showers to cater for all of I, I sneak into the first shower just before the mob realises and attacks!

Shower ready. Lenny asks me to join him, Luke, Will and Robert to go to the city to exchange money and have a quick drink. We advise Ray and Steph, that we would be going out for a while and we find a lift from one of the residents who takes us into the city and stops us on the main road just in front of a Bureau de Change. Exchanging some Turkish Lira into Syrian pounds, we set off to find a decent looking cafe. My attire, although relatively modest is not modest enough it seems as I get a few disapproving glances from passers by – male and female. I guess a female accompanied by four males is not exactly the norm in this country. Sitting down, on comfortable armchairs we tuck into some Middle Eastern fare – tabbouleh, fattoush, hoummous and pitta bread. I am careful not to eat raw vegetables as I have had a lot of warnings about the effects these could have. The food is a welcome change from the usual pasta which although is excellent and plentiful it gets a bit too much at times.

Time to head back. We look out for a taxi. I see a little taxi dropping off a whole family – I swear about ten people came out of the little vehicle. Packing ourselves into the taxi, Robert sits in front striking a conversation with the driver, while I squeeze in the back with Lenny, Luke and Willie. What a laugh, the driver was extremely friendly and very amused to see us all laughing our heads off. Getting to our accommodation we tip him generously and he is very pleased to pose for photos with us.

Back at the accommodation I am in time for Mass. Part of our daily routine, that I must admit I look forward to. I might not always follow what Fr. Pierre says but that half an hour gives me time to take stock of the day's events and say a little prayer for all involved and for all those who will benefit from our efforts.