18 - 20 March 2020

• 18 March (12.5 km, 7.8 mi) - Gohatsion to Addis Ababa

• 19 March (7,800 mi by air) - Addis Ababa to USA

• 20 March onward - USA

Wednesday, March 18, dawned like any other day. We were looking forward to a pretty easy ride. The day before, we had conquered the Blue Nile Gorge, and our legs were tired. So today we planned to ride only 30 km (19 mi), through a landscape of low, rolling hills to the town of Gebre Guracha. That would give our legs a chance to recover. From there, we would cycle three more days to reach Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia, before heading on to Kenya and then Tanzania.

But the hand of fate intervened, and things didn’t go exactly as planned.

As we headed out of Gohatsion, we heard it again. “Corona!” Even more than yesterday, people were shouting this word at us as we rode by - branding us as potential carriers of the coronavirus that was sweeping its way around the world.

Our white skin linked us to Europe or the USA, which were both experiencing a rapid rise in cases - and deaths- from the virus. No matter where you went in Ethiopia, there was a TV playing endless news feeds about the disease, stoking alarm and uncertainty. We tried to just ignore it. But it was hard to shake the fact that the “corona” label was directed at us based on fear of the virus, which had the potential to turn people against us.

About an hour into the ride, we were passed by three Land Rovers heading toward Addis Ababa. Then, just ahead of us, they pulled over to the side of the road and two guys jumped out. They flagged us down as we rode by, and asked us if we would like a lift. They were overlanders from Europe, heading to Addis Ababa.

We declined. Unlike some cyclists who occasionally take rides in vehicles, we had ridden our bikes the whole way from Cairo. We were reluctant to break that streak by getting a lift now. We thought that as long as we reached Addis Ababa on Saturday as planned, we would be fine. At that point we would re-assess our trip, and decide whether we could continue, given the increasing number of issues and restrictions being put in place as a result of the virus.

“Are you sure?” they asked us.

“No, we’re fine. Thank you, anyway,” we replied. But they were undeterred. “Are you sure? We have plenty of room. We’d be glad to give you a ride.”

They looked concerned, and clearly gave the impression that they thought we should reconsider. They said that there was talk about Ethiopia possibly closing its airport, and that their embassies (Netherlands and Greece) had strongly advised them to leave the country as soon as possible. They also indicated that Ethiopia’s borders with Kenya and Sudan had been closed. If the Addis Ababa airport also closed, we would be stranded in Ethiopia for an indefinite length of time. We asked them if we could have a minute to talk alone. “Sure, no problem.”

So Pedaling Guy and I stepped to the side of the road for a mini conference on the matter. On the one hand, it was only a couple of more days before we expected to reach Addis Ababa anyway. Our visas were good for two years, so we had the ability to wait things out in Ethiopia with the hope that the borders would open again, and we could continue our journey.

On the other hand, people along the road had started to brand us as carriers of the coronavirus because we were obviously foreigners. We had to consider whether it would make sense to stay in the country, even if we could. It was not very appealing to think about living in a country where you would be unwelcome, and singled out during a pandemic. Perhaps the arrival of these land rovers was the Universe’s way of telling us it was time to go. At the very least, we reasoned, if we rode with them we would arrive in Addis Ababa a few days earlier, and have a bit more time to analyze the situation.

We decided to accept their offer. They seemed visibly relieved, and immediately started working on the challenge of getting all of our stuff into their vehicles. Our bikes were hoisted up on top of the first two vehicles, and our luggage was divided up among them based on wherever there was space.

It took a bit longer than expected to get everything loaded, because they also had to move some of their own gear around to make room for us to sit in one of the vehicles. Surprisingly, all this activity did not draw a crowd of spectators. Usually, a production like this would have been a big source of entertainment for people passing by. But now, there was only one guy who stopped to watch. It seemed like another indicator that people were beginning to avoid us.

The three Land Rovers were occupied by four people from Holland and two from Greece, with two people in each car. They had brought their own vehicles to Egypt for an overland journey to South Africa. Now they had the dilemma of trying to find a place to store the vehicles in Ethiopia. The logistics were daunting. Getting cars into Africa is a bureaucratic obstacle course that requires lots of permits and permissions. Likewise, getting them out is complicated. If the overlanders were going to depart the country quickly, their only choice was to leave the vehicles behind, and hope that they would be okay until they could return someday and retrieve them. They knew about a place south of the city where the vehicles could be parked, but they were also planning to visit their embassies in the capital to see if there were other, safer options.

We rode in the vehicle being driven by the two guys from Greece. They had cleared a spot in back big enough for two people, on a small bench facing a stove. The bench had a cushion, and we had plenty of room for our legs, so it was reasonably comfortable - at least for a couple of hours. As we bounced down the road, we listened to music. Cat Stevens’s “Wild World” started to play, and we all laughed. It seemed fitting for the moment.

Once we were on the road, the adventures continued. Soon, it started raining hard, making us glad we got the ride when we did. The rain turned the edges of the road into a slippery mush. We started to see vehicles that had slid off the road and were stuck. A few minutes later, we passed a semi-truck that had slid off the muddy road and flipped over on its side. The hilly, winding roads can be treacherous in the rain.

The overlanders were in a hurry to get to Addis Ababa, because their flight to Europe was leaving that night and they had a lot to take care of before the end of the day. So when obstacles appeared in the road - a donkey cart, a truck stopped in the main traffic lane to load passengers, or whatever - they used the Land Rovers’ four-wheel drive and high clearance to drive around them with the same fearlessness that’s common among the local drivers. We bounced and swerved through puddles and potholes, over speed bumps, and occasionally did a bit of off-road four-wheeling to keep moving forward.

Then things got even more interesting. We came upon a major construction zone. The entire road was all torn up, and traffic was being diverted onto a single lane of slippery mud and gravel. Several big buses had gotten stuck in the muck, blocking the only open lane and creating a massive traffic jam. The overlanders used their 4wd to get around the traffic by driving on the sides of the road. Then, they powered the land rovers over a berm to get onto the part of the road that was still under construction.

This part of the road was completely devoid of cars. We’re not sure whether it was because the Ethiopians were actually following the rules, or they just didn’t have the vehicle clearance to make it over the berm. But nobody seemed to mind that we were driving on a “closed” section of the road. The overlanders charged along, bypassing the big traffic jam. People waved as we passed by. It was great - until we hit the end of the construction zone. Then we saw a big mountain of gravel stretched across our path, completely blocking the exit. Not good.

The guys driving our vehicle stopped and evaluated the situation. They decided they could make it across the gravel ridge by four-wheeling over a lower spot on one side. It was a close call, but they just made it. After that, the folks in the other two Land Rovers decided to take different approach. They backtracked a little bit to a spot where they could drive back over the berm, onto the main road. Everyone made it through ok, which was a really good thing. The buses stuck in the mud had blocked the whole road, creating a traffic jam that stretched out for several kilometers. It probably would be many hours before all those cars, trucks and minivans would be able to pass through.

It took us about four hours to reach Addis Ababa from where the overlanders had picked us up along the road. We were incredibly grateful for the ride. We also appreciated that they dropped us off at the hotel where we planned to stay, which was a wonderful gesture. Then they headed off to the Dutch/Greek embassies to see what their options might be for storing the Land Rovers.

After taking a shower and eating, we assessed our situation. The borders with Sudan and Kenya were already closed, Sudan had closed its airports, flights were being cancelled right and left, and there were rumors that Ethiopia might close the Addis Ababa airport. On top of that, we received an email from our international health insurance company saying that the US State Department had declared a Global Level 3 Health Emergency on March 11. Basically, that meant that our health insurance policy would only cover costs related to a COVID-19 illness for a couple of more days, then we would be on our own. Furthermore, we had the option to tap our insurance’s emergency evacuation benefit to cover the cost of our flights back to the USA - but only if we left Ethiopia by March 21. It was starting to look like evacuation would be a good idea.

We decided that we should follow the lead of the overlanders, and book a flight home.

We researched the options, and discovered that if we departed that evening we could catch a flight at 1:20am in the morning, for a decent price. Other flights later in the week were considerably more expensive. It wasn’t ideal, because the trip included two transfers (one in London and the other in Newark, New Jersey). But we decided we could make it happen. Sometimes you just have to believe everything will work out, and hope for the best. So we booked the tickets and started to figure out how to get to the airport, followed by how to get ourselves, our bikes and our gear onto a flight that would leave in a few hours.

We had six bags and one bike each (2 front panniers, 2 back panniers, 1 rack pack, 1 handlebar bag). With no time to spare, we didn’t have the option of carefully packing our bikes in boxes and our gear in duffles or suitcases. We rested our hope on finding a way to consolidate our bags at the airport and hopefully figure out how to get our bikes on the plane.

We loaded up the hotel’s shuttle van with our bikes and gear, and headed to the airport. After the shuttle dropped us off, we put all our panniers back on the bikes as if we were heading out for a ride, and wheeled them up to the airport’s doors. We were quickly stymied by security.

Unlike U.S. airports where you can simply walk into the main ticketing area without a security check, the Addis Ababa airport requires a luggage screening before you can enter any part of the airport premises.

Unfortunately, the security personnel insisted that in addition to the panniers, the bikes MUST go through the luggage scanner before entering the airport. We took all the panniers and sent them through the scanner. No problem. We asked if they could hand check the bikes but that was not an option. The conveyer belt and scanner looked awfully small to fit our bikes, but there didn’t seem to be a choice if we were going to get on the plane.

Luckily my bike (which is smaller) fit through with just the removal of the front tire.

But PedalingGuy, who has a larger bike, had a lot more trouble. He put his bike on the conveyer belt and attempted to send his bike through the scanner 6-7 times, each time taking the bike apart more and more. First he removed his front tire. With the “help” of several airport employees, they tried every-which-way to fit the bike through the scanning machine, but it just wouldn’t go. Next, PedalingGuy disconnected the handlebars. That makes the bike much harder to handle. But try as they might, they still couldn’t get the bike through the scanner.

By this time, there was a pretty big line forming behind them. But the airport security staff kept insisting that the bike MUST go through the scanner. So PedalingGuy took his bike aside and removed the seat. Then after a few more tries and some final jockeying, the bike managed to pass through in pieces. It took forever, and was hard on the bikes. And I can’t imagine that the scanner allowed them to see anything that they couldn’t see with their bare eyes. It was really annoying, but the airport security personnel were surprisingly patient with the whole process.

After that, we reassembled PedalingGuy’s bike, re-loaded the panniers onto the bikes, and wheeled them over to the airport’s plastic wrapping service. We’ve used this service to consolidate some of our bags in the past by wrapping them together. So our hope was that we could wrap the panniers into nice, tight bundles. We had also heard of people using this technique to wrap their bikes. Even so, we were greatly relieved when the staff who ran the plastic wrapping station indicated they would be willing to wrap our bikes also. We figured that if they were willing to wrap the bikes, then it was hopeful that the airline would accept them wrapped in plastic rather than boxed. But we were still not certain, and there was some chance that after wrapping they would still be rejected by the airline.

We took as many of the accessories as possible off the bikes (e.g., phone holder brackets, light mounts, bells, etc). We then loosened and turned the handle bars and unscrewed the back derailleurs. We wrapped the derailleurs in bags and let them hang from the chain. Finally, we followed conventional wisdom and deflated the tires halfway (you don’t really need to do this but almost every airline will ask you if you have done it).

As you can see from the picture below, two guys tried to balance the bike while a third wrapped it in plastic. This wasn’t easy since they had to spin the bike while balancing it. But they persisted and managed to get both bikes wrapped.

We had asked the wrapping guys to package our panniers into four bundles (two for each of us). But when we arrived at the check-in desk, the airline folks recommended that we wrap all of the panniers of each color together in one bundle, so that we would have only two checked items each (one bike, and one very big pannier bundle). That would keep us within the limit of two, free checked bags.

I waited with the bikes while PedalingGuy went back to the wrapping service. Voila! He returned with everything wrapped into two bundles. It was really thoughtful of the airline staff to suggest that. What’s more, they didn’t penalize us for the fact that some of the items might be over the weight limit, or that the bikes were over-sized and not in boxes. In the end, they didn’t charge us any excess baggage fees, which could have run into the hundreds of dollars. We could not have been happier.

After checking the bikes and the panniers, we felt much lighter. It was fairly smooth sailing to get through security. By then it was past 10:30pm. It had taken us more than three hours to work our way all the way from the airport entry doors to the concourse where our flight would depart.

We used the remaining time before our flight to relax and enjoy a slice of pizza in an airport restaurant. We hadn’t had pizza, a cycling staple, since leaving Sudan, so it was a very nice treat. At the table next to us was a couple from the UK that would be on the same flight as us. They were returning to the UK from South Africa, where the woman had been teaching yoga. We chatted with them about how crazy things were getting, about yoga and cycling. The guy had planned to do a charity bike ride with his rugby team in early June. At this point, stuff like that seems unlikely to happen.

To us, the waiting areas at the airport looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. There were quite a few Asians leaving the country. Many were heading back to China, which has close economic ties with Ethiopia. They were clearly much more concerned about the virus than the rest of us. All of them wore face masks. And 80-90% also wore plastic face shields, as well as full-body, all-white, hazmat-style protective suits or plastic rain ponchos that covered their bodies. They looked like they were about to enter a nuclear contamination area. Very few Westerners at the airport even wore face masks. It was a stark contrast. Little did we know how common face masks would become in our own lives.

The plane ride to London was completely full, with people in every single seat. Almost everyone was attempting to return to their home country, connecting through London. Because we had booked our flights late, we were not able to sit together. Even worse, we were both in middle seats. It was a tough, 8-hour flight. PedalingGuy sat between an English husband and wife, who have a home in Bahir Dar, Ethiopia, and have lived there for over 10 years. They said that this is the first time they have ever considered evacuating, and that almost everyone else they knew who was not an Ethiopian national was also leaving the country. They had decided to leave because they did not think it would be safe for foreigners to remain, and that things might turn violent if the virus started spreading. Hearing that helped us to feel a bit better about our decision to leave.

With all the news of flight cancellations, it made sense that the airplane was full. But I guess that I expected air traffic overall would be lighter as a result of fewer flights. So it was a bit of a surprise that our flight had to wait a long time before getting the green light to land at Heathrow Airport. We circled around in the sky southeast of London for quite a while before the airplane finally headed for the airport runway.

At 1.5 hrs, our layover in Newark’s airport was a bit too short. We managed to get through customs pretty quickly, which was great. But my boarding pass didn’t indicate that I was eligible for TSA Pre-check (which I am), so I had to skip the “express” security line and use the regular “way too long” security line. PedalingGuy’s pass gave him TSA Pre-check status, but he decided to stay with me as we ever-so-slowly made our way to the front of the security line.

The security line ended up being a mile long, with many people returning from overseas. If you’ve ever been to one of the major theme parks like Disney World, you might be able to picture this security line. It wound around in stacked lanes through two different holding rooms. Just when you thought you might be getting close to the security screening area, the line would angle off in a new direction. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a security line that long. It took us 50-60 minutes to get to the front of the line, and by then we were at risk of missing our plane.

I got through the security screening without a hitch and proceeded to the gate. Unfortunately PedalingGuy was held back for special handling. The screeners decided that our bike locks (which he had in his carry-on bag) could possibly be used as a weapon to hit someone. They didn’t want to let him keep the locks, despite the fact that he has taken them through security screenings at least five times in other airports. Our bicycle locks are made from titanium, which makes them very light and harder to cut, but it also makes them expensive. In addition, we had these locks specially made so that the same key works for both locks, one for each of us. PedalingGuy really didn’t want to lose the locks to an airport garbage bin. He pleaded with the guards for a while before they finally relented and a security supervisor, who had already said “no” twice, changed his mind and let him through with the locks. PedalingGuy was surprised and pleased that there is still room for personal judgement in such matters.

Unfortunately, the whole ordeal took time - which was in short supply after the long TSA security line.

In the meantime, while PedalingGuy was debating the merits of bike locks as weapons with security, I had gone to the gate. The gate agents were making stern “final call” announcements, and threatened to leave without PedalingGuy if he didn’t show up fast. Hoping to move things along, the gate agent urged me to board the airplane and take my seat. But I refused. I waited at the gate, ready to throw myself in front of the door to keep them from leaving without PedalingGuy, if it came to that. It took him nearly 10 more minutes to show up, which was excruciating. But he finally ran up to the gate, and we were able to board the plane as they closed the cabin door behind him.

Note to cyclists: don’t keep your bike locks in carry-on luggage, especially in the United States.

Once on the airplane, it was like we were in a different world. The two international flights had been packed, with no spare seats. Now, the flight from Newark to our final destination was practically empty. There probably were less than 20 passengers on board. We each had our own row, and I laid down to try to get some rest.

After landing on the ground at 7pm, we headed to a hotel, collapsed into our beds and slept for more than 12 hours.

The next morning we inspected our stuff. The panniers came through without a hitch. And all things considered, the bikes made it through remarkably well. I certainly had my doubts when we checked the bikes, wrapped in a thin layer of cellophane. And the plastic wrapping definitely took a beating - it was badly shredded in some places.

But we’ve heard that the luggage handlers are actually more careful when they can see the bike through the plastic, than they are with boxed bikes which get thrown around like regular cargo. That may have been the case, here. Even though the wrapping was torn, the bikes came through mostly unscathed. The worst damage was a spot where the outer leather on PedalingGuy’s bike seat was scratched. Other damage was minor, and a bent piece of plastic in one of the fenders molded itself back into its original shape once the cellophane was removed. Overall, we were pretty happy with the results, considering the bikes had to endure three flights with two airport transfers and one customs transfer.

We didn’t have much time to mourn the untimely demise of our bicycle tour. We landed in the USA within 30 hours of deciding to stop our ride across Africa. Just one day earlier, we had been thinking we would be in Africa for the next 8-10 months. Now, without a home or vehicle to return to, at the height of a global pandemic, we needed to change all our thinking about our future and come up with a new plan. If remaining nimble is a virtue, we are getting some good practice.

The first month was consumed with an intensive effort to find a place to settle, get all of our affairs rearranged for a long stay in the USA, retrieve all our old stuff out of storage, and move into a new home. We’re now avoiding the corona virus by self-isolating and thinking about what comes next. Luckily, we were able to find a place to live that has good cycling options, allowing us to get out on a ride almost daily. Even though no one shouts at us as we pass by, no one wants to throw stones at us anymore, and when we stop we don’t attract a crowd of people, we nonetheless don’t feel neglected and still enjoy cycling. The normal western lifestyle now seems very luxurious. It may be a while before we lose our new found appreciation for hot water, 24-hr electricity, peanut butter, and air conditioning.

We’re taking things day by day, hoping the world gets back to normal soon. Once borders start to open and travel becomes easier again, we may start to think about another long trip. Cycling across Africa remains one of our dreams, but it could be a while before it feels right to try that again. We’ll see…

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