Monthly Archives: September 2017

Ignorance is Bliss is Bullshit

What a day to be alive! Even if just barely.

It’s Sunday again and for this one I’m actually with you for real. The past two weeks my posts have been presets from before I headed out for the Saharan leg, but today my finger tips are tapping this keyboard in real time. Using the last few muscles of my being that still have the energy to move.

After what seems like an eternity I’ve made it to the Saharan oasis town Boujdour in Western Sahara and today is all about sweeping town of everything that’s even theoretically edible, calling home to refuel the soul with the voices of loved ones, showering a European beach worth of sand out of my ear(erhm)holes – all of course while simultaneously refusing to get out of the guesthouse bed I’ve found myself here.

Plus – sending a small greeting to you lovely lot :-)

I’m nowhere near the end of it and my Saharan finish line is yet another +600 km away. I am drained and have nothing left to give. The equation is not even close to adding up but all that seems terribly unimportant at the moment. Today is bliss and that’s all that matters.

Had I had what it took I would have written about experiencing Mauritania. Its pure and endless deserts of course. But much more about modern day misery beyond words. About brutal racism. Misogyny. Open slavery in 2017. About futureless children playing – or just passively standing – in burning mountains of trash. About the smell of urin and rotting meat in 45 degrees. About all of it.

I would write about a hell on fire and a world’s silent agreement of its nonexistence. And about the most incredible human beings welcoming me to it like something between their long lost daughter and much awaited half god. About being a disgustingly privileged western woman with a VIP seat to watch a world in flames. Close enough to see it all in finest detail. Always with enough distance to not ever get her toes burnt. And I would write about a shattered soul leaving at the end of the show, as always with her version of real life waiting to be picked up just where she left off.

Ignorance is bliss. Right? It sure is for us always ending up on the right side of it.

The question is though, what the hell one’s supposed to do when the illusion cracks. Crawl back in?

Of course not.

Over and over again we all claim it wouldn’t even be possible. State how life will never be the same again. Still I’m here – once more – looking forward with my back steadily turned on everything and everyone permanently left exactly there – behind me. Shamelessly letting watermelon and FaceTime calls to a different universe fill my whole conception of reality.

As always like nothing – and no one – ever happend.

‘I’m nowhere near the end of it and my Saharan finish line is yet another +600 km away. I am drained and have nothing left to give. The equation is not even close to adding up but all that seems terribly unimportant at the moment. Today is bliss and that’s all that matters.

Today is bliss and that’s all that matters?

My own words, literally 30 minutes ago. I think you can tell this post didn’t exactly go where I intended it to.

The worst thing though is that they’re probably true. Today is bliss – because today is ignorance. To the headwind wall of desert that still lies ahead. But more so to the Mauritanian decay left behind. And to all the other ones I’ve seen, felt, lived – and most importantly – turned my back on before that. To the guilt of knowing that I’ll do the same a million times again.

Today is ignorance. Today is bliss.

Today is the reason why the hells of this world will never stop burning.

And now… I’m going for ice cream.

Fuck.

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |September 24th, 2017|Africa, Travel Logs|
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The Saharan Daily Promise

I’m the middle of the Sahara. So no – I don’t have internet connection. It is Sunday though so I thought I’d preset a small post for you to enjoy anyways.

Any guesses where I might be at? Well.

If you take glance on your North African map my hopes are that I’m mid desert somewhere just north of Dakhla, Western Sahara. And also that I’m in mental and physical shape good enough to pass it, rather than taking that way too long detour to reach town and the comforts of civilisation.

Who knows though?

The last thing I received before leaving Nouakchott was a comment from this Czech dude and one of the few people with personal experience of riding against the wind through the Sahara desert:

‘I will keep all my fingers crossed for you! Cycling from Nouakchott northbound is the worst stretch I have ever done. Every day is just such a pain with those terrible headwinds! I hope you have crossed at Diama, because that NP is the most interesting thing for a long time to come. After Nouakchott and especially after crossing into Western Sahara there is little worth cycling for. Be sure to take 15-20l of water and prepare to be averaging around 50km a day with 8km/h. It’s pure masochism! Good luck and let the winds be kind to you!’

Given that – my hopes of already having passed Dakhla seem about as feasible as having reached all the way back to Sweden. We’ll see though. In my experience boys tend to whine about headwinds the same way they do about colds anyways ;-)

And it really doesn’t matter. I’ve got a toothbrush to get the sand out from between my teeth every evening. And I’ve got time. One really doesn’t need more than that.

I realise now this is one weird post. From past me – without any idea of what present me is doing where.

Or well – cycling is quite an alright guess I suppose.

And of course, keeping the Saharan promise I’ve made to myself. That small promise that looks different every time and yet continues to make all the difference. The one which has kept this Swedish girl sane through insane times a million times before. And which is likely to turn even the ‘masochism of the Sahara’ into one helluva good time.

There are quite a few of them. But I’m expecting my main challenges to be headwind and monotony. Leading the sanity promise to this time look like this:

The Saharan Daily Promise 2017:

– every morning: Dance to one full Tove Lo song.
– every day: Sprint in tailwind. Smile the whole walk back.
– every evening: Journal 3 beautiful things you’ve never seen before.
– & don’t: Read your speed. Only time spent.

I won’t preset anything for next week. Let’s assume that I’ve made it to that first safe spot by then. And if you don’t hear anything let’s decide that it’s only because I lost track of time out there.

Smiling, dancing – and finding the beauty in hell.

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |September 17th, 2017|Uncategorized|
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Saharan Shivers

Panniers are packed and I’m ready to go. I’m Sahara bound. For real this time.

The first few days of riding in Mauritania gave me a glimpse of what’s up ahead. But leaving the capital Nouakchott tomorrow morning is when the real party starts. As always when leaning over the threshold waiting to uncover a new unknown – I’m excited out of my wits. What’s a little different this time though, is that I’m also scared shitless.

Of the heat. The winds. The mad distances. The Al-Qaida stories. And more than anything of the fact that I don’t trust neither my body nor bike, as they’ve both been giving me more trouble in the last couple of months than during the previous two years combined.

Tomorrow I’m off. Everything is ready – except me. I was supposed to go yesterday. Or to be honest the plan was to leave already the day before that. Still for no good reason I just haven’t.

Something’s off. But as it goes when it comes to gut feeling, I wouldn’t for the life of me be able to tell you what.

I could wait of course, for that perfect window and the let’s-fucking-do-this feeling that sooner or later is bound to return hand in hand with my physical health. But no. One doesn’t cross the Sahara – the biggest desert in the world – on inspiration. One does it with patience. And if there’s one thing I take pride in having no matter the circumstances (not) given, that is it.

Tomorrow I’m leaving civilisation, trees (read: shade) and phone service behind. When you’re reading this I’m already a couple of days into the nothingness – and I won’t catch you until I eventually come out the other side.

Given that I stay true to my route my next town and first pit stop along the way is Boujdour, Western Sahara. Some 1 000 km from here. And I expect an ungodly headwind through the shadeless and burning hot desert to keep me company every inch of the way there.

Though if there’s one thing we all need to remember, it is to never ever fool ourselves into suffering from the headwinds of life before we can actually physically feel them blasting in our face. And today – the only wind that reaches me is the one from my hotel room air condition.

Keep your fingers crossed for me, will you?

Now – cheers to life! I’ll catch you in a week or three.

Until next time,

Fredrika

By |September 10th, 2017|Africa, Travel Logs|
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Purpose & Pride

Then finally it was time. Earlier – in completely different parts of the world it had always fallen apart. Sometimes due to my route. Sometimes due to ticking visas. Once in Vietnam even due to authorities denying me entry into the off limit region a project was enrolled in.

But then finally came the day, in small town Koussanar in eastern Senegal. The day when I got to visit the other end of the fundraiser to ActionAid. I got to meet them.

Not women / children / communities like them. I got to meet at least one hundred people who in their own words could tell me straight to my face exactly what ActionAid – and this stupid bike ride – had allowed them to do with their lives only in the last 12-18 months.

I got to look down that solar driven well, drilled only last year – that now allow for independent and sustainable fish and crop farming for a whole community. See proud women work their peanut fields in the pouring rain. Understand how they – above all else – thank ActionAid for that single piece of equipment that ‘changed everything’ .

And. I got to dance with small girls with a future.

I’ll simply drizzle some photos throughout this post. When the time comes, I’ll share all of this in every possible way I can think of. Travel tales are good entertainment, but this right here is the essence of everything that this specific journey is about. I live to see the world. Epic mountains and all that, yes. But no view in the world will ever beat getting to see this place become beautiful for more of us.

Writing this, my bicycle is standing fully loaded right in front of me. Today – now even – I’m off. Off in a way I haven’t been in a very, very long time. Today I’m crossing into Mauritania. And today I’m kicking off Sahara.

There will be time to sit down for one more blog post before the true madness begins. Let’s talk then about what this 2000 km headwind stretch through the biggest sand desert in the world actually entails.

For now. The people of Koussanar are enough. The biggest reminder and boost in spirit anyone could ever wish for. Through every imaginable difficult time on this ride around the planet, the distance based fundraiser for ActionAid’s lifesaving humanitarian work has been pulling me forward.

I’m quite convinced that I’m now standing on the threshold to my biggest challenge yet. But the feeling this time is different. This will not be for a blurry fantasy of how this has purpose somewhere, somehow – for someone.

This..! Is for you. This is for hands I’ve held and for cheeks I’ve kissed. For Amina and Awa. For Fatou and Mariama. For little Fanta that I still haven’t gotten over not getting to say goodbye to on the morning I left.

And for each and every one of the millions of women and girls around the world, whose lives are or will be touched – sometimes saved – by the absolutely critical and true work of this organisation.

I’m off now.

Inspired out of my mind. Though let’s be real.

What is the antidote to inspiration? Yes, you got it – headwind. Expecting this to be the fiercest one I’ve ever experienced (which by all means says quite a lot) that first ‘What the HELL am I doing out here?!??!’ might already be closer than I realise.

I don’t care though.

When body and head asks ‘Why??’ – my heart now knows the answer.

Until next time,

Fredrika

PS.

The ActionAid fundraiser is always open. Thanks to you all we have already collectively raised + 1/2 million SEK. Join as a KM supporter or give a small contribution already today. This thing is changing lives. Read more and get engaged at thebikeramble.com/charity. Thank you all.

By |September 3rd, 2017|Africa, Travel Logs|
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