Africa seems to have been drawn for gravel bikes — and for authentic, raw bike touring — or maybe it’s the other way around. But the essence doesn’t change.
That land, with its few paved roads and countless dirt tracks — where every path, usually red, is framed by a thousand shades of green — is pure paradise for an adventure on two wheels.
Together with my friend Roberto Cravero, we set off from Bujumbura, the main city of Burundi, aiming to reach Kigali, the capital of Rwanda and the venue of the Road World Championships. With just a few bags — specially designed by TAAC — strapped to our bamboo bikes, and only the bare essentials to stay light, we never set a daily mileage goal. Instead, we followed a rough direction, getting lost on purpose among cultivated fields, banana groves, and plantations of every kind.
The local people, not at all used to seeing Mzungu (white men, in Swahili) — and even less used to seeing them riding bikes, their main means of transport — were thrilled by our passage. They cheered and accompanied us all along the way.
We slept wherever we found shelter, without expectations, and most of the time we ate only rice and bananas, simply because that was all there was. But we never felt lacking.
We discovered an Africa completely different from the one sold by travel agencies: a less glossy, more authentic Africa, without wild animals or luxury resorts, but full of smiles — from adults and children alike — who became the real added value and the energy that kept us going.
