Hope is the last thing to die

Since we entered Iran, every tiny little village has had at least ten repair workshops for cars along its main road, and so did every tiny little village in Oman. So far. That was our hope. We could stop an Omani with an empty pickup and he took us to the next village where our hope vanished - another village built of huts and tents. It had a 'car repair workshop', of course, but the only thing that could be done was pumping up flat tires of cars which had crossed the Wahibah Sands.

Thus, we had to hitchhike again, a hundred kilometers to the next village, Hiji. We were sent from one workshop to another and ended up in the 'Steel Work Shop' of Bijoy and Faruak from India. They felt confident to solve all our problems...

Communication wasn't that easy but it didn't take long until we had disassembled Silke's bike. The extent of the deformation became clearly visible. More people joined and discussions started about what to do and how to do it. Actually, no decision was made, but from one second to another, we found Faruak jumping on the frame and Bijoy pulling one side. Tears again. We realized that this was the only way to do something here, in the heat and dust in front of this 'workshop' in this 'village'. Surprisingly, the alignment got better and better, we even could put the rear wheel back in, put the chain on and turn it. Sometimes, Bijoy, Faruak and Hauke were standing on the frame at the same time, pushing and pulling and eventually the final alignment succeeded! As if the frame would have memorized its original positions.

It took the rest of this day and the next day to do the fine tuning and all other repairs, and to get our staff ready for the road again.
Eggs and tins with beans were broken in our bags (how stupid could we be?), our steel pint and cup were battered...and the loose spaghetti survived.

However, we still can't put our luck into words and can't believe that we're back on the road, cycling, more than 600 kilometers further and almost in Salalah. What an emotional rollercoaster. We've also realized that we've developed a strong, emotional relationship to our bicycles during the last six months and we promised to treat them with more care and respect.

Our first days back on our bikes were about fighting strong headwinds and flying sands (a sandy shower with every oncoming vehicle) through an indescribable, empty, quiet, desert landscape, sometimes without any service for more than 200 kilometers (so we had to carry reams of water and provisions). Perfect to process what had just happened.. And starting to cycle at 4am in the morning turned out to be a suitable strategy to escape strong winds and heat.Read more