Day 11 - Homs to Damascus

I always had serious doubts as to whether I would make it to the last day and final checkpoint on the bike and not in the back of a van but here I was in Homs, packing my bags and checking out my bicycle for the last time to make sure it is ready for the last 150kilometres of this challenge.

Final briefing from Alan, blessing from Fr. Pierre and pep talk from Carolyn and Paul before we leave en masse towards Damascus. Ian is feeling better today so he decides to cycle, whilst Lenny is not feeling at all good but still he starts off with us. The road today promises to be pretty straight forward, with some good down hills towards the end, although there is quite a long stretch of desert which will make it tougher in terms of heat intensity.

Our first checkpoint is in the middle of a desert. An open space where a street hawker set-up shop selling luke warm drinks. Further up a small shack provides a bit of privacy for the brave to make use of the hole found inside. Cold water is running out fast, as one by one parched cyclists descend on the backup team like vultures attacking their prey. The backup team promise us they will be driving along the way to provide us with a constant supply of cold water as much as possible.

Somewhere in between Checkpoint 1 and 2 we cycle past a Lifecycle van only to see a commotion of sorts. Slowing down see Ray, our photographer, sitting on the ground, broken camera by his side, and Stephanie holding a bag of ice on his head. Concerned we slow down but Mario urges us to continue. Half-heartedly we continue, hoping for the best but we can't help but wonder what happened. It later transpired that Willie, accidentally cycled straight into Ray, knocking him down on the ground, breaking his camera and injuring his head in the process.

The impact

With Ray in our thoughts we also have to battle the unbearable and stifling heat. Continuing on our route, the backup follow us in their vehicles, providing us with cold water as we cycle through the never ending desert route. Their presence is a godsend as it is not just a matter of providing us with cold water, but also providing us with support and encouragement to face the final few kilometres.

The saying goes “it never rains but it pours”.At the second checkpoint we are hit by another drama. Clocking in the second checkpoint, just beside a typical Syrian restaurant we find a very worried Edward surrounded by very formal looking Syrians who seem to be questioning him about something. Mario soon joins in the discussion. We find out through Carolyn, that some pictures, taken by her with Edward's camera included a red unmarked pick-up truck in the back ground. The soldiers instructed Edward to wait a couple of minutes until they showed the photo to their commanding officer. In the meantime we take the opportunity to have lunch and try to wait for the outcome of this interrogation. What is clear is that if Edward is accused of spying, this could have serious repercussions especially in a country whose conventions are not similar to those we are used. to. Mario, Hulya and Edward are still with the police when it is time for us to leave. Not wanting to leave without knowing what is happening we are urged to continue, with Mario reassuring us that we will get the necessary backup we need till the situation is solved. In the meantime we also learn that Lenny had to stop and was continuing part of the journey in an ambulance the gastric problems weakening him so much that he could barely stand up. Again more upsetting news about our friends. There was not much we could do except do our best to reach Damascus safely hoping that all our friends would be there waiting for us.

Because Mario is caught up trying to avoid Edward going to jail, we do not have water supplies readily available and this part of the road is just desert so it is not a case of stopping in one of the shacks we were encountering in the previous roads and buying water. Cycling in the relentless sun, we had to make sure that our water supplies lasted until the third checkpoint, but with temperatures reaching 46 degrees, controlling our thirst a major task. Reaching the third checkpoint, there was no need to ask for water as it was handed to us automatically, our first question was to ask about Edward. Alan had no news except that he was being taken to a military camp and being held there. Mario was sent away, leaving Edward at the mercy of the Syrian authorities. Calls were being made to the Maltese consul but such incidents took time to be dealt with. Alan reassured us that all that was possible was being made to get Edward back into our fold and like Mario before him urged us to continue cycling. Wetting my bandanna with ice cold water, I leave the checkpoint only to realise shortly after that I left my helmet behind. Fully aware of the chaotic driving I would be experiencing in Damascus, I still had no intention of turning back especially since I was enjoying a nice steep downhill. I just prayed for the best. Reaching speeds of 60kms per hour, the distance to Damascus kept on reducing. It is only at this point that I am actually thinking there is a possibility of me completing Lifecycle successfully. The last ten kilometres were the longest of the whole trip. I was on the look out for the final checkpoint signs whilst trying to survive the chaotic driving on the dusty and filthy roads.

Reaching the final checkpoint, I am clocked in by Soner and greeted with large cheers from the cyclists who had already arrived and the rest of the back up team. Poignantly, Cliff's poster was there, welcoming us to the final chapter of this challenge. Exhausted, I am quickly taken into an air-conditioned car to cool down, protected from the strong afternoon sun. Gulping down a bottle of one litre bottle,I don't even know where I left my bike but I don't really care. I am happy not to see my bike for a while after this.

Exhausted but happy

Robert and Nicholas arrive shortly after me, and that is when I start phoning my loved ones and texting my friends and colleagues advising them that I have successfully completed Lifecycle. I am still in a daze as the remaining cyclists clock in.

Texting home

There is still no news of Edward, and that marred the fun as we were all hoping that he would be there to cheer us as we reached Damascus. This was not to be though. Negotiations for his release were still taking place.

We still have the final bit to cycle to our accommodation. All vehicles having reached the final checkpoint we are escorted into Damascus. With the backup team blaring their car's horns in triumphant mode, and cyclists pummelling the air with clenched fists we slowly cycle into the busy streets of Damascus' city centre. Our triumphant entry is not a common occurrence and we are greeting with a number of curious and bemused looks. We don't care. We are happy to have completed this adventure.

The fat lady has indeed stopped singing!

Photos courtesy of Ray Pace & Stephanie Caruana

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 8 - Kozan to Hatay

As I walk to the breakfast area in a zombified state after having slept for just three hours, I am greeted by Fr. Pierre who wishes me a happy feast - 15th August. I have forgotten which day of the week or date of the month. All I am focusing on are the days left till we get to Damascus, and I am sure I am not the only one.

Tonight, we will be sleeping in the last Turkish accommodation in the Hatay, which extends like a stumpy finger into Syria. An Arab enclave it has closer cultural links to the Arab world that with the Turkish hinterland. In fact these links go back to the seventh century AD, when Arab raiders began hacking at the edges of the collapsing Byzantine Empire.

Cycling over 200 kilometres, tackling a 13kilometre hill with inclines of 11% – 15% coupled with the lack of sleep from last night's adventure will not give anyone points for guessing that this will be yet another difficult day. Alan warns us to check out for any signs of tampering on the route signs, even though we have our route planned today, we do not want a repeat performance of yesterday's adventure.

The first 40 kilometres are fairly straight forward, with long straight roads that enable us to reach average speeds of 24km per hour. Lenny and Nicholas' attempt to draft to closely with each other ends up with Lenny having a close encounter with the tarmac, resulting in bruising and scratches and a hole in his helmet.

The first checkpoint is reached within an hour and a half from departure. Having our usual fare of jacket potatoes, bananas, Powerade and flap jacks I sit down for a couple of minutes and mull over the last few days. Everything seems to have passed in a blur. I look at the cyclists and backup around me having a laugh – of course that is very easy when Edward is around. I envy their carefree attitude, something I wish I had more of especially in these challenges. I am not saying that I am not enjoying the whole experience but for me failure is not an option. This self inflicted stress is not conducive to a carefree attitude and as much as I try to keep positive the pain in my ankle does not help. My thoughts are stopped when Carolyn comes up to me armed with biofreeze and bandages. Massaging my ankle and offering words of encouragement, I feel better. The fact that there are quite a few people out there who want me to succeed is heart-warming and gives me the push I need to carry on.

Our directions lead us to Iskenderun, which was founded by Alexander the Great to commemorate his victory over the Persians. Iskenderun became the main port for Aleppo from where trade routes fanned out to Persia and the Arabian peninsula. Cycling along the seaport we encounter the busiest main roads and chaotic driving so far. We do get some doubts as to whether we are on the right track due to lack of signs, so with each sign we saw Rob and I gave a sigh of relief.

The road south east from Iskenderun rises up in to the mountains, passing through the small hill-town of Belen. The road strains and curves through the Belen pass, which was of great strategic importance during Roman times.

Just before we start tackling the long 13 kilometre hill, we have a checkpoint. My ankle is now swollen again, and giving me a lot of grief. I ask Steph for a jab but to my dismay, she cannot find the vials in her bag, which got slightly disorganised when most of it's contents fell onto the van's floor. Not wanting to waste too much time, I take two Panadols and move off, agreeing with Steph that we would meet on the way and get a jab there.

Nigel, Lenny and Luke catchup with us and we start tackling the hill. Luke, seems to have found a surge of energy and disappears up the hill, whilst we remain cycling at a constant speed, trying to avoid a number of crazy drivers who give us strange looks. Well I guess, it is a tad crazy to cycle up such a hill so you cannot blame them for looking at us as if we were little green men on flying saucers.

Checkpoint Four offers us an amazing view. Whilst the others stop to take photos, Steph sticks a needle into my left butt cheek. Most welcome as I almost have to hop on one leg, the pain has become so intense. As a reward for being a brave girl, Hulya offers me some Turkish sweets made out of filo pastry, pistachios and honey. A good surge of energy!

The 15kilometre downhill following the steep hill up to Belen is welcome, and the boys, soon disappear amidst their shouts. The wind coming from the valley is so strong that I have to fight to keep straight. As I get to the bottom of the hill, I find Nigel, Robert and Lenny waiting for me. Since we have a flat road, and the winds are picking up speed we draft, but the wind coming from the side makes it almost impossible. We attempt to double draft, forming two lines side by side, however we never really practiced this technique, which ideally requires at least six cyclists. However it does give some respite.

As darkness falls we still have about 25 kilometres to go. We are all dead tired and most of us are in a foul mood, especially when we get to a junction with signs indicating a left turn to get to Hatay but no Lifecycle signs in the vicinity. Lenny flips. He phones Soner to ask for directions, the stress and exhaustion clearly showing in his responses. Soner tells us to keep on going straight and to follow the signs.

Lenny cycles determinedly at a pace that I cannot keep up with, and eventually cycles off leaving Robert, Nigel and myself to keep each other company. I am worried even because his back light is not working and the roads are not very well lit. There is nothing to do except keep on cycling, drafting trying to help each other. We finally make it to the stadium, relieved to find the backup team and other cyclists there waiting for us. Soner takes my bike and advises me that we have done good timings. We are happy to see that Lenny has arrived safely as well, although Nicholas, Tony, Simon and Julian are still behind us. Whilst Nicholas and Tony arrive shortly after us, Julian and Simon are still far behind, both of them not in the best of health but are being closely monitored by Steph the doctor.

Since, upon arrival, food is ready, I sit down to eat a hearty supper of pasta. Therese and her team work magic in the limited space and resources they have, combining proteins, carbs and enough quantities to give us the right amount of fuel into our systems. Second and third helpings are normal occurrences and Therese is concerned when we don't ask for more! - That rarely happens in reality.

Almost everything in Lifecycle becomes an automatic ritual. Preparing my belongings and bed for the night, charging my phone and GPS, sorting out my gear for the next day. Having done all that I proceed to my next ritual – physiotherapy. Removing the strapping my from my knees is a painful process even because the day before I inadvertently removed a small layer of skin, which has left an open wound on my thigh. Massaging my thighs, knees and ankle is a painful yet soothing process, that keeps us going from day to day.

Exhausted, I prepare to go to bed but not before having gobbled a pistachio ice cream that Lenny bought me after a quick visit to a store across the road! Walking into the gym shortly after my treat, I am greeted by the sounds of varying symphonies emanating from various crevices of already sleeping bodies.

Carolina and I have one quick look at each other, silently grab our inflatable mattresses and seek refuge in an unused shower, closing the door and shutting out all unpleasant and unwelcome sounds. Our usual banter is reduced to a quick good night.

We are both closer to Damascus.

Day 2 - Kandira to Zonguldak

Tucking into a hearty breakfast, we make last minute checks to our bikes before we depart on a 187 kilometre journey, which promises to be tough. Under the watchful eye of the University's curious staff, Alan give us a short briefing followed by a blessing from Fr. Pierre. The latter generates more curiosity but no one disrupts the proceedings showing the levels of the courtesy shown towards us till now. Blessing over, final touches are made and with the final word of warning about keeping our timings we set off in the same teams as yesterday.

Listening attentively during Alan's briefing





Resetting my GPS in preparation for today's journey

Off we go. The start of Day 2

Being a long day, I decide that I will focus on getting from one checkpoint to another, attempting to channel my energy in such a way that I will be able to complete today, hopefully on time. Our first checkpoint will be in the village of Karamvezzinuer - a long name that I can barely pronounce but which is easy to identify when looking at road signs. The route takes us through rolling countryside, giant fields of green and yellow, where the next harvest promises to yield large amounts of wheat and where thousands of sunflowers, looking up towards the sun were planted. Tony and I instantaneously started humming Fields of Gold, to which I commented that my progress in cycling shows from the fact that I don't require CPR if I attempt to sing and cycle at the same time.

Fields of Gold

Flat tyres seem to be the order of the day, with my first flat for the day happening within the first hour. My fellow cyclists stop to give assistance as does Alan who had just passed by in the backup vehicle. Shirley starts urging us to take note of our timing and hints that no-one should stop for each other especially for something as trivial as a flat but we don't take head. We want to cycle together as a team as much as possible.

The road to the first checkpoint is undulating, but the inclines are not too harsh. My knees start to give me a twinge of pain here and there but I try to ignore it. I have ten more days to go and I cannot let them disrupt my focus. Some Biofreeze gel and a good massage from the physio at the next check point will do miracles. The scenery at the first Checkpoint is lovely and I manage to quickly cross the road to absorb the beautify of a nearby lake for a few seconds.

The not-too-harsh inclines are short lived when we have to tackle a 12% incline, which yet again was not indicated on the route cards. The lactic acid starts building up, even though I am trying my best to breathe properly to ensure that enough oxygen is distributed. The incline at one point increases to 16% or so my GPS is showing. Having said that the effort feels like I am going up a mountain not a bumpy Turkish road in the middle of nowhere!

Always a welcome sign!

Leaving our checkpoint in Ugoluk, we proceed ahead, looking forward to the 40K flat road which would allow us a glimpse of the Black Sea. Robert, Lenny, Nick, Nicholas, Luke, Tony, Ian and I start drafting. The wind is against us and what should have been an easy road proves to be a tough endeavour. Drafting helps although the group splits up at one point. The Black sea on our left, we catch a glimpse of the water's edge. Although rough, it is inviting but we cannot stop, we are still far from our second checkpoint and we can ill afford to lose precious time. Suddenly I realise that I have another flat tyre. Robert quickly stops to assist me. He has changed so many flat tyres in the last twenty four hours that he is becoming a pro, similar to the Formula 1 pit stops, changing the tyre with effortless ease. Ian having cycled quite far ahead suddenly realises that the troupe is not behind him so, concerned, he cycles back to meet us.

The long, never ending road, where we had to battle strong winds

Picking up a steady pace on the side of the road, I get the feeling I am being followed. It is actually the case. We are being escorted by a police car, who are driving slowly behind us giving us a 'cover' ensuring that we are given a wide berth by vehicles travelling in our direction. The wind is really slowing us down. We are all getting tired and looking forward to the next checkpoint. Some respite. A friendly face. A bit of food to give us more energy.

Our staple diet throughout Lifecycle

Stopping at the Opet service station we find Space, Carolyn, Hulya and Edward to greet us. Unfortunately we learn that Paul has withdrawn from cycling the challenge. It is sad when someone has to call it a day but there is always a valid reason and a difficult choice. Whatever the reason, I think that even just making it to Istanbul commands respect for the cyclists. Handing me my favourite blue Powerade, Carolyn sits me down and massages my knees with Biofreeze. I have to admit that the pain is increasing and I am worried. I still have far to go. Carolyn reassures me telling me that it is normal to feel such pain. Each checkpoint I have to make sure that I get some physio done. My energy levels, although I have been eating, are depleting. I decide to try out one of the vials that my friend and sports doctor Kirill recommended. I don't know what exactly is in them but the taste is foul smelling, a cross between a herbal concoction and bad cough medicine. I let out a gasp which makes everybody turn round to see what happened. Snatching another Powerade from Hulya, I drink it in one gulp making sure that the bitter taste is gone. I am quite sceptical when it comes to these energy drinks, bars and gels but I have nothing to lose and I have full faith in what Kirill recommended.

The start of the killer climb. We did not know what was in store for us

Time up and we soon head off. The route card tells us that we are to face some hills, approximately 6k at 5% - not too bad. The first signs featuring Zonguldak indicate that we have around 87kms to go. As we keep on following these signs and the Lifecycle route signs, we start going uphill. A winding road, that keeps on twisting and turning into a never ending bend. My GPS is indicating inclines of 12%, had it not been for the yellow fluorescent Route sign I would have been worried that I got the wrong road. It is quite easy to miss a sign, it could have either been removed as a joke or even been hidden by a parked vehicle. But not in this case. This hill was for real. Going up I keep a slow but steady pace. I should have attempted to honk, but I did not want to risk something going wrong and losing the momentum.

It is Nicholas' turn to get a flat tyre. Robert urges me to continue and stops to help him. The backup vehicle has caught up with us. Hulya and Carolyn encouraging us. Space jokingly comments about the content of the vial as I am doing very well in this hill. His comment is very encouraging as I must admit that prior to seeing the backup van, I had so much pain in my legs that I felt like turning back, going to the checkpoint, throwing my bike on the ground and saying "I've had enough, this was not on the route card, I am fed up, I give up".

In such circumstances, when you find yourself cycling on your own you get a million and one thoughts. Yes giving up comes to mind many a time. It's like having an imaginary Angel on your right shoulder and an imaginary Devil on your left. The Angel is reminding you of the effort that you have put in till now, so giving up should not be an option, whilst the Devil is enticing you with the comfort of sitting in a van, laughing and chatting and not suffering the lactic acid build up in your leg muscles. I decide to listen to my guardian Angel and keep on cycling until I get to a flat surface. My joy is short lived as I realise I have another flat tyre. The last thing that I feel like. I start to change the wheel but Nicky, Tony and Robert catchup with me and help me - they are definitely much faster, in changing a flat, than I am.

Deep concentration, trying to take heed of my Guardian Angel rather than the Devil

The conquering of that day's hill was such a motivator. We all felt that since we had not stopped once then there was hope for all of us. Darkness is rapidly approaching. The signs towards Zonguldak are appearing at more regular intervals, and the distance is decreasing consistently. 40kms away from Zonguldak we are given some respite, enjoying some nice downhills. Ideal for recovery. 10kms away from our accommodation we encounter our first tunnels. Whilst some people do not like tunnels, I don't mind them. A tunnel means that we have probably avoided some nasty uphill and to be honest right now the tunnel is much appreciated, as is the light that is showing me the way, from the backup vehicle driven by Mario and Soner.

Found bang in the hear of Turkey's main coal district, Zonguldak is not the most appealing stop over choice, but Lifecycle is not about appeal. It is about getting from one location to another, finding appropriate accommodation and getting on with it.

Our accommodation in Zonguldak

Reaching the accommodation, I find Alan and Tim waiting to clock us in. My timing hasn't improved much but Alan tells me that today's average speed has been modified due to the very strong winds that we encountered on the coast. Mario takes my bike and together we walk up to the gym where we will be spending the night. The University gym is equipped with clean showers and warm water which are very welcome after such a hard day. Therese and her team have prepared a delicious pasta and as a treat we find we have ice-cold Coca Cola! Robert, Tony, Nicky and Nicholas arrive shortly after me and don't wait to dress for dinner but immediately tuck into their supper.

Carolyn does some physiotherapy before I make a quick phone call home. It is hard for the loved ones at home to wait for a message or call. They are oblivious to what is happening and can only try to imagine what is happening, hoping for the best. Fr. Pierre calls us in for mass., half way through an exhausted Simon arrives. He is not very well today, so we are very pleased to see him walk in on two legs, albeit very tired.

Day 2 is over. I remove today's route card and fix Day 3 on the lanyard. Writing some brief notes into my diary I know that there is still a long way to go but I am determined to, slowly slowly, get to the final checkpoint in Damascus.

All photos, unless otherwise stated, courtesy of Shirley Cefai