Nigeria - The Lions on the Road: Cycling London to Cape Town - page 161

going uphill with oncoming traffic in full view. There I was on the edge of the shoulder
praying that these trucks didn't collide. It didn't help my peace of mind when I cycled by
the burned carcasses of an oil truck and a passenger bus in a field next to the road.
With the grace of God, I managed to keep on going to the village of Agbor where I
left the road for a much needed mental rest. The terrain after this was much flatter and the
fearofatrafficexplosiondisappeared.MypacequickenedandIreallyenjoyedthecycling.
The condition of the road was excellent all the way to the Niger River where I crossed on
a beautiful bridge. However, on the other side of this bridge, it seemed as if the road was
bombed. Potholes in various sizes littered the road which immensely affected the speed of
traffic (a good thing) but had little effect on my speed for they were quite easy to negotiate
around (a great thing).
Iasked several people where the church was each ofwhom sent me in opposite dir-
ections. Eventually, I met a kind man who escorted me to the church.
I waited for the priest to wake up from his late nap to ask permission to camp on
the property. He welcomed me to stay in a spare room and invited me to dinner. I didn't
feel well at all but I went to the dining room anyway. After thanking him for the meal, I
toldhimIwasnotwellandexcusedmyselffromthetabletotakeanap.Ifellasleepalmost
immediately.
ThenextmorningIreceivedaknockatmydoorat5:20a.m.toattendmassat5:30.
IstumbledinthedarkuntilIfoundmywaydownstairs.Ithencameuponamassivechurch
with rows of extra pews lined outside parallel to the exterior walls. Every seat was taken
as they waited to hear the 5:30 mass (this was a weekday!) I was impressed with the music
and the excitement generated at the service. I returned to the house to have breakfast and
left by 9:00.
Leavingsolateprovedtobeabadidea.Thetemperaturewasalreadyhighandthere
were no trees to provide shade. I prayed for strength for my legs felt like mud…slow and
thick and I constantly felt dehydrated no matter how much water I drank. I was also doing
a no-no when climbing. I got into the terrible habit of obsessively looking up at the hill's
summitwhichgotmementallydiscouragedandexasperated.Itfeltlikeaneternitytocom-
plete the hill. I yelled at myself to stop looking and forced myself to only concentrate on
the ground one meter in front of my tire. The strategy worked for the next time I looked up
to see my progress, to my amazement, I was about to crest the hill.
I decided to stop for a break at the top and had an ice cold Coke at a hotel. I met
a Nigerian sailor and we chatted about his life. He then insisted on paying for the drinks.
I thanked him and gave him and the two brothers who served us each a Canadian pin and
hopped back on the bike.
This time my legs felt great. The cool breeze at the top of the next hill was most
welcoming and my pace picked up. The following hill was even higher but with my re-
newed energy, I almost flew up. The road was in such excellent condition that for the first