FANCY A BIKE RIDE ACROSS UGANDA?

“FANCY a bike ride across Uganda?”

That was the question put to me at a meeting at the Leonard Cheshire home in Netherseal, Derbyshire.

The year was 1997 and I was rapidly freewheeling towards my 50th birthday. As a journalist helping the home with its media coverage, how could I say No? I said Yes.

Now, I had not been on a bike for more than 30 years back then. What was I letting myself in for? The answer came very quickly. To get me into trim (okay, the nearest possible for someone who had gone well out of shape after almost 30 years behind various newspaper desks) I bought a Raleigh Lizard, a heavy, all-terrain 18-gear model that I took for my first pre-uganda training spin around the countryside of Ashbyde-la-zouch, where I lived. The trip of around five miles ended with a steep uphill road section near a local refuse tip, which almost welcomed that bike as a grateful donation that afternoon. I dismounted, pushed it, got back on to cruise down the hill home. Bike dumped on front lawn, I crawled into the house – not to move for a few hours.

Things got easier, they had to, and throughout the spring and summer I gradually turned cycling into the fun thing it is meant to be.

Several months later I and a number of my fellow African Tracks bike riders met at Chapeltown, Sheffield, to be introduced to the Raleigh Expedition team in charge of the adventure. We also got to see one of the cycles we would be using in Uganda. It was made in India and, as far as I could make out, a lot of it was wooden! Many an eyebrow was raised, but what the hell the expedition staff knew what they were doing. Didn’t they. To find out if they did, several of the bikes were shipped out to Africa for a trial run. From what I gathered later it hadn’t taken very long to condemn them as totally unsuitable to the terrain. Phew!

Nottingham’s world-renowned cycle manufacturers Raleigh came to the rescue and in October 1998 the 70/80 fund-raising cyclists finally got on their two-wheeled Ugandan friends of the next 10 days. Those companions were bright blue 21-gear Wildtrack mountain bikes. Solid.

What happened next will live with me for the rest of my life. After a false start because of torrential rain we were allowed to ride out from our overnight camp base a few hours’ drive out of Kampala. The feeling of careering almost out of control down a red, muddy track and trying to stay upright was part scary, part