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and ran back to my room. After a quick glance at my rear wheel I noticed that I had a
broken spoke. That was the catalyst for me to work on the bike. I quickly replaced the
spoke and rotated my tires.
OncloserinspectionofmytiresIrealizedjusthowpoortheirqualitywas.Notonly
was the tread worn away, but also the sidewalls were dangerously thin. In fact, my concern
over all my tires including the spares had started to preoccupy my thoughts. I desperately
needed to purchase a new set of tires and the best opportunity to do that would be in the
largest town en route, Kikwit. I reloaded the bike and spent the rest of the day with Father
Marek at the mission. I decided to leave the next day for Mosango.
I woke up when the church bell rang at 5:30 a.m. I sweated the whole night and my
sheetsweredrenchedwithperspiration(Ididn'tknowatthetimebutitwasakeysymptom
of malaria). By 6:30, the mass was finished and I ate breakfast and took a photo of Father
Marek.Aftersayinggoodbye,Iwalked thebikethroughthesandtotheroadandbeganthe
day's cycle.
The first 40kilometres were quick. The roadwasingreat condition andits gradient
was gentle. I passed over three tributaries of the Kwilu River that eventually fed into the
Zaïre River. At Masi-Manimba there was a lot of sand and the closer I got to Mosango,
the worse the road became. At one point, part of the road collapsed into the valley below.
There were only a few feet of width remaining where I could pass. Other vehicles had to
detour into the jungle, but being on a bike it was manageable but precarious.
About 3 kilometres from Mosango, the road's condition really improved. Upon ar-
rival in the village, I turned off the main road and followed the signs for the local hospital
where Father Mario worked as a Jesuit doctor. He wasn't there but was directed to rest
at the sisters' compound next door. I visited their chapel and then returned at 3:30 p.m.
to meet Father Mario. He spoke the fastest French I have ever heard which was difficult
for me to understand. After asking him if I could camp on the property he went through
a lengthy explanation which again was over my head. I felt that he was saying that there
was no room. I thanked him anyway and returned to the sisters' compound where I stayed.
Shortly after settling in the guest room, some children came to escort me back to Father
Mario's for dinner. Pasta! All is well.
I woke up the next morning at 5:45 a.m. and prepared for the 6:15 mass. I went to
the chapel and after the service, had breakfast with Father Mario. After giving him a pin, I
pushed off… literally. I pushed my bike through deep sand until I arrived at the paved road
and then I hopped on. Father Mario told me that the first river was at 30 kilometres, the
next river was at 60 kilometres and the third one at 90 kilometres. What great markers to
judge my cycling with.
The sun was already blasting on me but because of the cool wind it prevented me
fromoverheating.Infact,Ipassedthefirstandsecondriverswithlittlewaterconsumption.
The views were certainly Kodak moments and my descents were the fastest in Africa. At
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