It’s his greatest journey yet, #cairo2CapeTown

Enjopy the read: It’s his greatest journey yet, #cairo2CapeTown

19 Days to go to Egypt

I can't believe it is coming so fast, its like a train speeding towards me while I stand in its headlights stunned. Apart from feeling like a helpless creature to all the unknowns around me, theres a feeling of peace that keeps coming back to me.

Egyptian Visa, Sudanese Visa, Ethiopian Visa, check! Kit...check. Fund and bike...um, well not really. My favorite book says, "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of things we cannot see," so yet again, I find myself in this situation. The other day I was speaking to a man at an event and in his book I signed for him I wrote, "Don't wait for the conditions to be perfect, they never will be!"

No sooner had I spoken these words, did I realize that now, I had to be that man, going out prepared but under funded and under kitted out. Its scary, I literally land in Cairo with zero in the bank account! By faith, I go!

Been reading an incredible book about the dual of Amundsen and Scott and the lives they lived leading up to their epic expedition. I found it astonishing how, yet again, like my hero Ran Fiennes, Amundsen speaks a lot about the influence of god in his life and his adventures. Fascinating, the two greatest adventurers of our time!

I decided to re spoke and rebuild by wheels from scratch with new hubs. I have changed my cassette and my chain and packed in a spare to change both at my Halfway point most likely in Nairobi. People have warned me about the mountain ranges in Ethiopia being unforgiving and I need to target this area to push myself and ride well! If there is water along the path this will help, as I won't need to carry as much. I need to be disciplined that no matter how thirsty I am I will purify the water before drinking it. I have had my second last vaccine which was an oral Cholera Virus that tasted absolutely disgusting. All is coming right and all is well.

I wake up most morning s having dreamt about the trip, the arrival and the journey across Africa. It is so vivid it is almost as if I have already done it. When I look at pictures from various blogs I see these images that I have dreamt about, its very strange. I walk into this adventure in humility, willing to learn and grow and adapt. I pray and know that God goes with me, he will be my strength and guide as he always has been on my trips and in my life.

Heading through to Johannesburg now to collect maps, a sat phone, bubble wrap for the bike and some other bits and pieces. 19 to go!

Embassies and vaccinations

Cant believe the amount of time that goes into planning the vaccinations needed for a trip like this. I was lucky enough to stumble into a Licensed Travel Clinic where the kind lady broke the news to me.

"Sir, you are going to need at least 4 destinations, you are mad!" She said.
Oh goodness, Im probably more scared for the injections than I am for the long Flight to Egypt, but its all a step in the process I suppose. I need to go and pick up my VISA From the Egyptian Consulate  tomorrow as well.

The applications for VISA's are so strange. You even need bank statements and proof of accommodation just for incase you decide to stay in their country and make a run for it. With the amount of terrorist attacks happening I would say that proper clearance for VISA's is required but then again in this instance I'm just wishing I could be an exception to the rule.

Been thoroughly enjoying reading Ron Rutland's (FAT KID ON A BIKE) blog entries about Sudan and Ethiopia. He's an inspiration guy. I have found his attitude to be incredibly good even in bad situations, what a man!

Been doing some reading on Mark Beaumonts bicycle trip around the world as well which looked absolutely epic! He tells some good stories as well, but not as good as Ron's...

And yes indeed, I have just opened my eyes to a new day, Monday morning back here in South Africa and realized that I have written this post incredibly badly! My editor would kill me is she read this...ooops, just had to get some news out!
Kunjani
Keegs

Cairo to Cape Town: The First steps

It would be silly to try and justify that a journey of 11500km's begins with the first pedal strokel. It in fact starts months and years before the first commitment in pen and word is ever offered to an open ear.

My journey from Cairo to Cape Town started in a little coffee shop down the road from the University of Pretoria. I sat munching on a sadnwhich while discussing the prospects of a world record bicycle trip with a proffesional sports scientist and another friend who had seemed to take a massive interest in my venture. The first step however, the promises, the commitment, the interest and funding also ended at that little meeting. Months later, the emails stopped, the phone calls were ignored and I was left alone with this little dream in my heart.

As much as people believe in thier diets, in nature, in people, I believe in God and I felt a strong pull to this venture despite any shortcomings. And so, I began planning a trip into the unknown with no professionals. It started behind a computer researching the the towns that would possibly be stop over points while on the long road. It took me a month to fully map out the route on google maps and after that another month to ully adjust the distnaces and targets for the trip. In 2012 Robert Knol finished his Cairo to Cape Town trip in a record breaking 70 days, I kept this in the back of my mind as I planned vigourously day and and night.

I looked for sponsors among the heavyweight companies in South AFrica only to be ignored, sometimes just a sad little email would have given me hope to keep trying, but being ignored brings it to ones attention, that nobody has time for your dreams. I pushed on and finally landed a couple of small sponsorships in my home town of Witbank. These loyal friends saw something perhaps that I had even begin to doubt.

The money has only just been secured, some 43 days before my departure. To close for comfort some would day, perfect timing an optimist would say.

As I sit here on a rainy day in my home town I am again pushed down by the facts. My bicycle is broken, Im in need of new tryres, I dont have a visa, I havnt paid for my flight and on and on the list goes. If theres something I have learnt though, the facts are never the end result, faith and hope and hunger always prevail. If you wait for the conditions to be perfect, Im afraid you will never persue those dreams!
"Are you scared?" some people ask me, to which sometimes I cannot answer as a rational person and chose to rather remain silent. Theres is an excitemnt in my heart a deep feeling of peace towards what lies ahead. Everyday im researching the history of the places I will be travelling through and feel like an adventurer, Indiana Jones, preparing to trek through ancient lands. I think many adventurres have lost that connection with themselves, technology, funding and the perfect team have become the be all and end all of an expedition. Lest we cast our minds back to the tale of Scott vs Admunson, trekking the South Pole. Scott had a massive team, the best technology and a rediculous amount of funding. On the other hand, Admunson had prepared for a trip to the North Pole only to find, just weeks before leaving, that another explorer had beaten him to the pole. He turned his intentions to the South Pole, not telling anyone his plans. He relied on what was inside of him and not was outside of him to complete a mamoth task with limited resources. Often money comforts us, it taps us on the back and tells us that if something goes wrong, you will always have me to pull you through. This perhaps sets your mind on a plan B always, not fully acepting that your plan A needs to work.

Im grateful for my sponsors, VW Tri sec Autohaus, Timbercity Witbank and Denbey Liquor Warehouse for their generous contributions to the trip. Im looking forward to the challenge and the adventure through Africa. Tri-Sec Autohaus Timbercity

The fear in attempting great things

Hi Brent,

These past couple have day have been an absolutely crazy roller coaster journey. Up and down, yes and no and in a perfect circle and back round to the decisions I started at. I find me talking myself out of the Cairo to Cape Town expedition every day and then convincing myself that I need to have faith and press on. Then later I use reason to explain to myself why I can't possibly do it, mainly because of the money. Then I enter the word and start praying and God reveals many scriptures to me about walking in faith, following him and trusting in his ways. 

I think this is just an incredible testimony of how we trust God so fully and depend on him, but absolutely conditionally. What if decisions involved out lives, our finances, our kids lives, our health, then how dependent are we. Or in those instances do we turn and take the steering wheel from God and say, God, I got this, see you later. 

Its my battle as we speak. Every time I get quite with God he leads me into visions of Moses, leading his people, using what he had (his staff) and pressing on towards an impossible goal. 

By faith on the 31st on December I fly out to Egypt, by faith I start my trip on January 2nd and by Faith I finish the trip in two and a half months. By faith I will go!

Faith without works is dead! This is my "work" to listen and obey every word from God. 

Happy Birthday to your wife as well (I have wished her) but I just pray that God will bless you guys and open the eyes of your hearts each day a new, to love and cherish and hold the gift that God has given you. 

Love you all!

Keegs 

Taking risks and stepping to success: Ben Carson

I came across Ben Carson's literature a couple of weeks ago while strolling around a local book shop. I had some time to kill so decided to spend it sitting on the comfy leather couches in the store, reading the first chapter of the three different Carson books they had available. This was different to my usual book buying habits which mainly entailed me piling books into a basket, paying astronomical amounts for them (as far as book buying is concerned) and then sitting at home with enormous amount of books, with absolutely no intention of reading them all.

I paged through the first chapter and was highly impressed by the first book, and then highly impressed with the second and again the third. I must have read something wrong so I went back and read all three chapters, yet again being satisfied with all three. Surely you not gonna buy all three books Keegan?

So I ended walking out with all three. I tackled the first book entitled, Gifted hands, two days ago and am on the verge of finishing it. In the first thirty pages or so I had cried like a baby 5 times. 

"Surely you didn't really cry," said my girlfriend as we discussed the first book over some sushi at a local restaurant last night. "Can we not talk about this now, please," I said, tears now welling up in my eyes. I had cried, and cried properly. Carson's childhood was tougher than most of ours and I suppose if you have managed to log onto the internet now with your laptop, smart phone or tablet and  are now reading this, your childhood has definitely been better than old Ben Carson from Detroit.

Thinking most of the crying was done, I came across a a chapter called, A Girl Named Maranda. By now, Ben is the head surgeon at John Hopkins hospital at the age of just 33 and already rising to be a top Neurosurgeon and perhaps one of the greatest that has ever lived. Maranda 4 had travelled across the country with her parents after being rejected at hundreds of hospitals previously.

"Mr.Freeman you are our last hope," said the little girls mom. Maranda sat silently listening, hoping not to have one of her seizures that had become a usual part of her day. Without surgury she would get weaker and die within months. 

"Is that right, we may be able to help you," said Mr Freeman.

And then something interesting happens. Mr Freeman calls Carson in to discuss the girls case and whether and ask him, "have you ever heard of a hemispherectomy, I doubt you have Benny."

"I have, read up about it last week, never done one,"

"Is that right, can you do one, it might save this little girl,"

and then ben says, "it sounds reasonable to me."

Let put this in perspective. This surgery hasn't been done in 20 years, most previous attempts ended in 95% failure and death rate and the success of the patients that did survive were severely mentally handicapped. It is reasonably possible? Seriously? Is my reasonably  possible different to a usual man? I think not!

Ben goes and reads up on the surgery and gains more knowledge in the field, calls in the girls parents and tell them he will do it. He is blatantly honest with them and explains the possible complications that might occur of which the worst is death. 

What an incredible man! So lets break this down. What separates the great from the average?

1) The hunger and will to try:

Ben made it his business to educate himself in fields that weren't even in his expertise. When an opportunity arose, he had read about it the week before. The possibilities that he may have never heard of the surgery procedure may have severely influenced his decision to do the surgery. He is willing to try, he asks not; "what if I fail," he asks,"what happens if I don't try," and the answer was, she would die anyway. 

2) Read, learn grow, never settle:

Ben and his brother had to read two books a week instead of watching tv. Their mom, even though poor and struggling realized that self betterment was a way to succeed in life. now I'm not talking about traditional schooling systems I'm talking about extra work, reading up on topics you have an interest in. Ben said "become a professional, read up on any field you love, it will hold you in good stead on day and it will pay off."

3) Courage:

Be different and always look to try new things. Be accountable for your actions and go out hard knowing that failure is a step forward. Be willing to try, don't sink behind possibility of failure. Stand up, raise your hand and be the one who is willing to put their ego aside and try and possibly fail. For the Lord has not given us a spirit of fear...ever!

I haven't even read about him doing the surgery yet, can you believe it? I just sat down and started writing, inspired by his will to try. Now I know he is one of the worlds greatest and fail or succeed in this next surgery he still becomes great! Will definitely let you guys know how the surgery goes! 

Kunjani

An epic Adventure by bike

From the arid dry land of the Karoo to the Beautiful lush Cape Fold mountains, there plenty of the country I have seen by bicycle. Sometimes the difficulties of the road are ushered away by the beautiful sights of slow traveling.

Myself and Brent's son, Rowan, the night before leaving. It was an emotional evening, especially for Brent's family who had never seen him off on a trip like this, into the unknown. 

Plenty of luggage to fit onto the bike.

When I asked a friend to join me on an adventure of a lifetime, I didn't imagine it would be quite so hard. Now I wouldn't call myself the most experienced adventurer but I do feel my experience in the field of long distance cycle touring is up there with some of the crazies of this world. My friend, Brent den Bakker, had never cycled more than 45km in his life and now I was asking him to hammer out big distances day after day. We sat down one evening over a glass of wine, which may have given us that extra bit of confidence, and plotted a route through the flatlands of Mpumalanga, the meandering roads of the Free State and up and down the undulating hills of Kwa Zulu Natal. Nothing ventured nothing gained I suppose. The route would total about 650kms from Witbank to Balito. There was however a crucial question that needed to be drawn up firstly, and secondly, answered. Why where we going to do this? 

Brent 30kms out of Witbank, Day 1, having a break

Both Brent and I are actively involved in Hockey in our province . Brent is a qualified umpire and I am a qualified Coach, we repressnt the Osaka hockey brand and have grown to love the game. We decided that it would be a perfect opportunity  to link the two events. Hockey and adventure. We planned to take our traveling hockey side, The Traveling Pinks, a primary school hockey team who played all over to raise money for Cancer, on a tour down to Balito. We would cycle down while the girls and the families would trek down by car a week later. Simple? Far from it. 

A beautiful sunrise on day 3, Brent's knee was feeling better, our prayers seemed to have been answered, God is faithful

The first day offered a glimpse of difficulties I had seen in past trips. We rode hard, through a headwind, and managed to do 145kms to the little town of Standerton. We had earned our stripes and checked into the beautiful Olive Lodge who had offered to put up with our needs for the evening. It was a pleasant surprise when we rolled into town to find, my Girlfriend and Brents wife, along with his family, following us in their van. They spent the afternoon with us and bought us dinner. This was a luxury, I knew would disappear on day two. 

Day 3 and going strong, we were on a "high" all day.

Traditionaly for me day 2 was tough. Legs are tender and stiff and the mind has taking a beating to. None the less we got up bright and early and pushed on. Within the first 20km's we experienced Mpumalanga in all its anger. The morning skies rewinded to a midnight state and the black clouds rolled in, thunder clapped violenty and not even the bright lightening could light the black we were cycling into. A headwind pounded us as hail and rain crashed into our faces. Being hardly visible to motorists passing us by we headed for the dirt running along side the road. It proved to be safer but it was terribly muddy and slippery. As the clouds cleared some two hours later, we had only hammered out 20kms. The pace was painfully slow but not as painful as Brents right knee was becoming. From hardly doing any cycling to doing over 200kms in two days, his body was crying out for rest and I didn't know what to do. I could tell he was in some serious pain and i hadn't been in a predicament like this, if we didn't speed up we would be sleeping on the side of the road in another thunderstorm that night. Something We really needed to avoid. We managed to limp into Vrede and find a small doctors surgery who administered a scary looking injection to my team mate. We discovered later it was a mix of various pain killer and ant inflamatories, she nicknamed the injection, the "Free-state three some." It seemed to numb the pain. We got to our accommodation just before the heavens once again opened up. 

There was a bit of an akward silence in the room as Brent and I both contemplated the difficulties of continuing with his injury. Our faith wouldn't allow surrender, we got up the next day.

The sand storm on day 3 was crazy! 46km.h winds

Day three, and everything came together nicely. We averaged about 23km/h on the road to Harrismith and even fought through a serious 40km/h wind dust storm just outside the town. We looked like trojans, returning from a victorious battle when we finally got into La La Nathi guest lodge just of the road we were traveling in. This place was incredible, 4 star luxury for two adventurers in some desperate need of love and attention. We had an early meal at the resturant and retired nice and early. 

Day four, or most of the morning rather, was spent climbing out of Harrismith. The hills took a toll on Brents knee who agreed that the pain killer could be waring off. We had a breakfast on the side of the road before getting back on track and putting some more km's asunder the belt. We flew down Van Reenens pass at about 80km/h before the road flattened out once again letting us do another 20kms or so. It was then that the tides turned. Fatugue set in, and another 40km/h wind came out of no where and attempted in pushing us back to where we had cycled from. We were desperate to get through the last 60kms but the conditions were against us. Again the fear of sleeping out in the bush became real. I had never been that desperate and tired in my life. We stopped under a little bridge and said some desperate prayers together. The speed had dropped to well under 10km/h now even on the steep downhills. We struggled through another 10kms before finding a little shell garage where we stopped for some food and hopefully a lift into town. We were about 15kms off our target and it was getting dark. An owner of a bakkie, Mike, offered us a lift and we took it gladly. He drove us to the guest house and helped us load our bikes out and heave them to our rooms. We collapsed after showering,  two minute noodles and corn and only rose again the next morning. 

Our run in with a Police Officer on the last day, many people back home criticized our decision to go on the highway, we regretted it and paid the price. No need for people to have verbally bashed us the way they did publicly.

On day 5 we would end our journey, The plan was to cycle as far as we could before our support team back home picked us up and took us into Balito. Day 2 had cost us our originnal target but our R20 000 for Cancer could still be reached. While we rode on, the girls prepared for their first match against KZN Coastals u/13 the next day. We got picked up in Mooi River after another full day of climbing hills. We were shattered.

A good nights rest in a comfy bed and a good meal was all welcome but completely foreign to us, whose minds were still on the road. Brent and I spoke at length about the journey and how it would shape our future. The answers weren't clear but I had suffered and bled with a great man...I was proud of him.

The next day we got to see the full side, all kitted up in pink and ready to play. Penzance primary school were spectacular hosts, they invited their whole school, some 500 odd children to come and watch our first clash for Cancer on the 3 schools Astro Turn in Durban. The Coastals side edged out a narrow 1- 0 victory in the end which was disspointing but in the end of the day, the fight against Cancer won. The province also offered a generous donation to our cause, we were getting close to our target. 

Brent missed his boy! Shopping for groceries after 5 days on the bike. We made it!

The next game, two days later, we arrived at Riverside Astro to take on the local club. They were a strong side, but the pinks were coming together nicely. We managed to draw with the side and should definitely have won the game. Back home people were donating money after seeing what these soldiers in pink were doing for the cause.

The last game was scheduled for the next day at St Marys Kloof where we would take on Madsen Hockey Academy. The side was coached by legendary SA player, Kelly Madsen and this defiantly excited the girls. Kellly gave the girls an hour clinic before the game and perhaps this was the deciding factor in the game after the girls 

managed a 1-0 victory. 

The Pinks after their first game against coastal, Cancer awareness the winner!

And so came the end of an absolutely incredible two weeks of adventure, charity and love. What an incredible cause we fought for both on the bike and the hockey field. Our target is sitting about R5000 short but we believe that before the end of the week we will reach our goal. 

The girls playing that raised all the money for Cancer, so special. 

Preparing for the open road

Two days before a bicycle trip its always chaos in the Longueira household! My bike is standing pretty in the garage ready for battle, my bright yellow panniers are clean and empty airing for their load and all my spares are strewn all over.

I have just finished a remarkable book; The Pilgrimage, by Paulo Coehlo. Sadly it was not the best book I have read by the author, the Alchemist will surely remain his best piece of work, but there were some fascinating underlying morals that moved me. He is in search of a sword along the ancient road to Santiago, he has been battling inner demons for weeks on the road. He is approaching his destination and still not received or found this sword. He begins to doubt whether this trip was for anything, he becomes extremely depressed by the thought. A couple of days from the end he has a revelation, not once has he stopped and pondered what he would need the sword for and what he would use it for. He has been so lost in the idea of getting it that he has forgot to enjoy the journey and understand the process. Is this not how we treat our dreams so often in life, perhaps it is the reason we never reach them.

While focussing so greatly on what is ahead and neglecting our present time, we lose so much time and in essence...lose ourselves. I keep this thought dear to me as I embark on a mission.

The destination has been left unclear, Durban, Balito, Grey Town, we are simply open to the experience of the open road. There are lessons we will learn and sometimes its not about where we are going but rather how we are getting there. There are swords to be found along the way, what will we do with ours. Will we fight the good fight, will we return warriors, leaders and better men.

Kunjani

Cycling from Gauteng to Durban: Who can do it?

So who can do a long cycle? Who can qualify to cycle 140km's per day for more than 5 days? The answer is simple, anyone can.

On Saturday I set out on a quest to cycle to Durban from the tiny town of Witbank. The trip is planned to take no longer than 7 days. The man who will be accompanying me is an incredible mentor, role model and friend...and now, he steps into my world of adventure. Its an unusual step for him to take and will by no way be easy. Camping, eating strange things, struggling on the bike might all be new things to him but the sooner one can adapt tough life lessons, and apply them on the bike, the quicker one will learn to survive and push on.

So what can you do to prepare for a cycle expedition?

1. Do your research:

You need to have a well planned route which may take some time. You need to do some research into the gradients, the terrain and the temperature during the time of the year you wish to set out.

2. Pack the right stuff.

There are hundreds of web pages that will offer you the correct advice and give some insight into what you need to pack and what equipment will be useful on the road. If you think you are prepared, draw up a "worst case scenario" of things that could go wrong and try measure your kit up against the challenge. You will know if you are prepared.

3. Have a good bike set up:

You don't need to have spent hours and years training but it is crucial to be comfortable on that bike. Make sure you set up. you can do your own simple set up at home but it would be advised to visit your local cycle shop and get it done. A simple test I use to adjust my seat height: If your knee gets sore in the front, your seat is to low. If the back of your leg gets sore, behind your knee, your seat is to high.

4. Have communication:

In my earlier trips I hardly had any communication with anyone. In a way it was freeing but what are your goals? If your goal is to rebel against a economic society and live a life of poverty and adventure, then you need to accept that uncomfortable death is possible. Like Christopher McCandalees in "Into the Wild" you will fall off the radar and possibly never be able to cry out for help when you need. If you intend to experience adventure and then get back to your normal life in a coulple of weeks, make sure you have a phone or any other form of advice to let people back home know how you are doing.

5. Renew your mind:

Every thought, every feeling of comfort and anything you think you know for sure must be chucked out the window. If not you will have the worst time of your life. You need to open yourself up to the possibility of being taught by the road, the solitude and everyone you meet along the road. Humble yourself, open your mind.

The next couple of days on the road will be a pilgrimage for myself and my very good friend, who I think might be preferred not to be mentioned at this stage, until he finishes. The pilgrimage will finish in a holy place for both of us, a place it all began...Grey Town. We were both part of the 2010 Mighty Men Confrence that changed our hearts and transformed our lives dramatically.  Our biggest hope is that we get a chance to meet the man that influenced us so much, Mr Angus Buchan.

May the Adventure begin
Keegan "Kunjani" Longueira

The Malawi Memoir

Since getting back to Malawi I have gotten stuck into writing a 30 000 word (80 page manuscript) story  about the experience. Malawi has opened my eyes to so much. We need to live the life that's waiting for us, if we don't chase it nobody will. 

I'm planning to load the book onto the internet for free download as well as on amazon, e books and other platforms. Let me know what you guys thing. 

10 Tips for new cyclists

It was long believed that only after years and years of base training, cyclists would then hit their peak. Well doesn't that just suck. This isn't encouraging at all for those of you who have just purchased your new bike and rolled it out of your front door on a chilly winters morning. Theres hope for you I say, take heart. Heres 10 tips to get to where you want to be:

1. Get on Strava:

Strava is an online cycle program and data base where you can track your training, keep an eye on all the places you have been and see just how much you improve. I recommend you switch it on from day one. You will be surprised how much fun it is to get home, upload your training and relive it like a little kid in front of your computer screen. A bonus will be looking back after a couple of months and seeing just how slow you were when you first started.
Personal Experience: I cycled across South Africa last year in December. I uploaded all my trainings and when I finally got home from the month's adventure, analyzing every ride was so much fun. It brought back many memories of where my trusty stead and I had been together.

Track your rides and see what your friends are doing

2. Get a cheap heart rate monitor:

If you haven't got a Heart Rate monitor, get one! It is possibly the most effective way to track your fitness. For dummies, the idea is to get your resting heart rate as low as possible. Rides you were also once doing at 90% of your maximum you can now easily do at 60%, "KABOOM"...you're getting fitter. Expect not to pay to much less than R1500 for a basic entry level watch, will be the best thing you have done.

Its fun and very important to keep track of what your heart is doing

3. Time, Time, Time:

People often get consumed in the distance. I have to ride x kilometers a week. I have seen far to many riders, including myself, become discouraged, knowing they're  not reaching the distances they had covered when they were on top form. So forget about it, especially if you are a beginner. 3 hours on the saddle, legs turning over is of far more value than you think. The more comfortable you become on you bikes and in the saddle, the better you will perform when your training increases. Do your time!

Time in the saddle is sometimes more important the distance we are doing

4. Stay hydrated:

I recently returned from a race. My dad had done the Nissan Trailseeker #3, the 7okm race. When he got back in and we met at the car, he had only finished about 300ml of juice and water combined, out of a possible 1.5l on a 3hour ride.
 "I had no time," he said. Its unacceptable, theres a old saying that goes,"we don't drink for today, we drink for tomorrow." We might be fine for today but what about the next days training. Heres a thought; it takes a full three weeks to recover and get back to full performance after a bad spell of dehydration. I experienced this in the ABSA Cape Epic. Discipline yourself, drink it down!

Drink for the next day, its a discipline.

5. Look in the mirror:

 You are about to be transformed! Say goodbye to those skinny shapeless trunks and hello to that well defined lean leg mass. Take a picture of what your body looks like, if your goal is to lose weight, you have come to the right place. This will motivate you to keep going. You must do your time though.

You have the opportunity to change and you will

6. Supplements:

I have a trio of supplements that keep me recovered and moving forward regardless of what distance I had hammered out the day before. From a 225km from Balfour to Kroonstad, to a 40km hill repeat session, the formula is the same. Whey protein, L Glutamin powder dissolved in your shake and a Branch Chain Amino acid (Bcaa) will get you going again. Its all protein based and assists in the rebuilding of your muscle breakdown.

The ultimate recovery 

7. Gym:

"I need to stay out of the gym, I don't want to get big," Don't be silly. It takes time and effort to become that big, you would be so lucky to see the transformation over night. Ask any of the riders winning Tour de France, The Giro, The Mountain bike world series...they are all being conditioned in the gym. Resistance training in the gym protects your muscles agains breakdown and fatigue in races...if you can squat, how can a little hill on the bike break your legs. Resistance training also assists in fat burning throughout the day.

Although Lance Armstrong was on a lot more than gym, he often spent hours conditioning his body

8. Forget the equipment:

Forget the fancy stuff, get on what you have and cycle your ass off! You will know exactly when you get to a point where your equipment is letting you down. But its not in the first 8 months of training I can guarantee you. Stop comparing yourself to the skinny racing snake lining up next to you. Ride what you are comfortable in, its an adventure, keep it that way!

I promise, your local "Sir Brad Wiggins" won't be judging you on what bike you are riding

9. Join a club

Whether its a social riding group or an organized club set up like the one I belong to, MTN Club 100. Get involved and mix with guys with similar mindsets. They will push you forward and encourage you. Natural competition is good. When you don't feel like a 50km Saturday ride and John, who weighs 180kg, shows up with the club at your front door, I assure you, your mind will change very quickly.

There are some interesting people to meet in our local clubs

10. Smile, look around and protect our culture:

Theres no time for stubborn, arrogant road bike bunnies in our sport and I fear we are getting to that point. Stop shouting "Track, track, track," from your position on the single track. Stop racing past abandoned soldiers patching their tubes, it doesn't matter if you are leading or losing. Stop brushing off officials who have been holding those bloody flags all day waiting for your slow ass at a corner in some desolate part of South Africa...please just raise your hand and acknowledge their presence. Change your attitude, you are part of the family now, bring courage, advice and love and leave your ego at home when you come on a ride. 

The friends, the health, the views and the time on the bike it the most important thing, remember that. 

You're ready for action! Get signed up to some races. We hope to see you in action soon.

Keegan "Kunjani" Longueira

The Nissan Trailseeker adventure

What sort of a name is the; Nissan Trailseeker? Some sort of mystic battle set in the heart of Gauteng? A battle between smog and cars to see who triumphs in finding the smoothly crafted trails in amongst the hidden forests?

I have always loved my mountain bike, training in Nelspruit for the season ahead

I wasn't familiar with the races and only competed in the National Mountain bike series last year. My dad had been pestering me about entering another race. He could smell my weakness and lack of fitness uploaded on the god of cycling-strava. One week before the race I let down my guard and decided to enter us into the Third race of the series at Curro Hazzeldean. 

"Well somebody needs to do the 40km as well so we can get the feel of the whole day, so I will do that one,"I said, clearly hiding my true thoughts about doing the 70km. 

The morning of the race was bitterly cold as if every single bit of bad weather had finally broken through from Cape Town during our winter period. The elites and other 70km participants hurried off at 7:30 and left me peacefully in my car to absorb some heat and motivation before deciding to brave the conditions. The profile indicated the race would be fast, full of single track and generally flat. Unlike the National MTB Series, the profile was truthful, there were no horrid surprises, bull runs or sharp climbs the required climbing rope and picks to escalate. Don't get me wrong, I love the National series, its a true test of character and if you are serious about cycling its a must, and besides who would pass up the chance to see grown men cry. 

The name of the race described perfectly what it was all about. Its as if thousands of cyclists head out into the farmlands of Pretoria in search of trails. We twisted and turned out of town and entered the single tracks with less than 10km on the watches. The tracks were immaculately smooth and fast which is pleasant change to the technical single tracks which test your talent every conceivable second. We headed over jeep tracks, district roads. We headed over bridges and smooth obstacles. The fact that nothing was angled sharply uphill or downhill made it an incredible race for beginners and those looking to post fast times as well. It was even perfect for an unfit semi retired 23 year old cyclist lavishing in the limelight of his glorious Cape Epic in years gone by. 

Jokes aside, this race fed me some inspiration. I returned home to the car, and despite the cold was motivated to enter the next Trail seeker. The team at advendurance have rely put together a top race for the whole family. Theres stalls for food and coffee and race merhcanadise, theres music playing and kids jolting around on their bikes. It helped me remember why I had joined this incredible sport.

With all the variations of adventure races and mountain bike races going on, this is certainly a classic and must remain a race series on the calendar curled by top cyclists and those looking to have some fun on some trails. 1:39 minutes on the 37km course was far from admirable but it signals for me, the start of my training for many adventures to come.

Day one in the warm heart of Africa

My eyes rolled back and then recovered and then again rolled back. I sat in front of the television, the picture no longer spoke to me, but rather my thoughts of what lay ahead the next day. I was drifting away into a deep sleep, the next day everything would change.

I was up at 4:30 AM with the warm sensation on my cheek, brushing it rhythmically. Unfortunately however the sad relies action that it was my Rotweiller and not my girlfriend catapulted me out of bed...on the wrong side. I struggled to get operating and it seemed unusually cold this morning. I managed to chow down some muesli and sneak in a quick coffee before loading all my bags in the car and hopping into the passengers seat. My dad gladly drove me the 150kms to the O.R Tambo Airport where I was catching a plane at 10am for Lilongwe, Malawi. The prospects of an African mission with operation smile had been on the cards for a while but it was only when I boarded the plane that slowly it all became real to me. I watched as the polluted skies of Johannesburg drifted out of sight and were replaced by the mist beautiful fluffy white cover over a sea of baby blue. The sky was at peace and my heart was two. As we started descending towards the earth a whole new landscape filled the planes windows. It may have been nothing to those accustomed to the terrain but my mind was blown. I had never seen Malawi before, this first glance was as if a new born baby had just opened his eyes to a strange new world. Everything, even though far from perfect, looked so beautiful.. The thick red soil hurtled closer and closer as we dropped on altitude. The green mountains on the horizon seemed to be a different type of Mountain, it all seemed so beautiful. 

We touched down in an economically depressed capital. The beauty of the country side was shunned from thought from those looking to a capitalistic society. Hawkers swarmed us as we excited the building. They all scrambled for a quick job to earn a quick job, hard work indeed under an African sun all day. Before hopping onto the busses headed for the hotel I managed to have a quick word with one of the men who helped load our bags onto the bus. Tosh was his name, or nickname rather. His friends called him that after he described his passion for music and the likes of Peter Tosh. His eyes smiled more than his mouth did. In that moment, in east Africa, in the heat of the Malawian sun, two men said so few words but will never forget their encounter. It wasn't what he said that moved me but rather his outlook on life, for a brief second between the hustle and bustle of loading bags, he was proud of who he was. He was proud of his nickname, his musical abilities, his life and his country. His eyes came alive as he told me who he was. Mr Tosh from Malawi, my first Malawian friend. 

The bus drive to the hotel was nothing short of the adventure I had imagined it to be. Lazy looking cyclists swarmed around the streets in and out of peak hour traffic acknowledging each other's existence. They waved as the pellet from their work which was very often reflected by the luggage on their back wheel. Fruits, potatoes, sugar cane, rats, sticks and anything else you could possibly imagine, loaded high on these poor overloaded bikes while the owners carried on as if to say "nothing to see here."

I stared at the taxi drivers eyes from the middle of the taxi I sat and remembered the words my dad had spoken to me before leaving, "if you think you have observed enough, look a little longer." So as I did I again felt moved by this mans life. What does he do? Where does he love? Does he have kids? What's his story? The answers I suppose will never be known. 

His eyes darted around in the mirror but deep in his eyes his soul told stories. I broke my stare as he glanced into my eyes while,weaving in and out of traffic. 

The country side is a mix of dry Zambian terrain and the lush green northern Brazillian country side. It's strange but almost indescribable. It's almost flat but in the distance, mountain shoot into the air, I wish I could climb them. The people are considerate of each other, there's a sense of friendship and camaraderie for those that wander the streets in search of a dollar. I love it.

The hotel is top class. Probably 4 star I would say, and to imagine I asked if my tent would be needed on the trip. The guilt of staying in luxury while hundreds of meters away families scramble to try and see if their kid will be next to get a life changing surgery is quite strong but other volunteers assure me that this is no holiday. They speak about the amount of work that needs to be done and just how late we will possibly stay up at night. It excites me though, I'm overwhelmed with the opportunity I will have in a couple of days to see a child with a cleft and then a couple of days later be healed of the suffering they have endured their whole life. 

I've already embarked on a little adventure already with my American friend Thomas. We took to the streets late in the Friday chaos in search of water and SIM cards. We found both but only after a game of dodge ball with cyclists, cars trucks and animals in a tiny electrical shop run by a young Muslim man with a long beard. 

So it has begun, the great Malawian adventure. 

Greetings from Africa

Keegan Kunjani Longueira

Off to Malawi

I'm not to sure if I do want to climb onto an aero plane after all the news of the Malaysia and Algerian Airlines recently. Although I'm nervous, I'm also very excited to be part of something so much bigger than myself.

Tomorrow Operation Smile have decided to take this adventurer to Malawi to experience a mission with them. During the ten day excursion, the organization will perform cleft and lip surgeries on those who ho don't have access to decent health care in Malawi. It's quite special to know that the money we have raised for 18 surgeries last year during my annual cycle trip to Cape Town will be put towards a transformation of lives.

I have no idea what to expect. I take off alone in a plane full of strangers headed for the capital of Malawi tomorrow and there will wait for whoever will pick me up and transport to the hotel the volunteers will be staying in.  It's something out of a movie. A young man heading off into the unknown, into a country he has never been. All the while I'm relishing in the knowledge that the core of a mans spirit come from new experiences.

I'm expecting tears and a deep felt heart wrenching move deep within my being for these ten days. I'm so delighted to be part of something so special.

Am I wrong?

This new song that has burst onto the scene has inspired my short video clip entitled; A Go Pro journey through South Africa.

Take a look at the video which basically puts into motion what I believe and how much I love being on the road.

Lost and off track

With so much going off, it's so easy to step back and realize you have drifted so far off your original path its scary.

The problem with my life is that it is so public. Everything that happens or I say I am open about and let people know. It trying to create a transparent, truthful and open man I have created a man who stands in front of a firing shad all day being blown to pieces. In my transparency, my faults are clearly visible which leaves me left in the dark while stores and comments spread like wild fire. It hurts more than anything to know that the reason you do things is being viewed by others as anterior motives.

I watched the small extract on Riaan Mansers and Vasti's documentary the other day on carte blanch. They had such an incredible journey across the Atlantic! The truth and love I saw in Riaans eyes when he finished the journey in New York was unbelievable. There is something very special about Riaan. Through his life as an adventurer he has chased freedom, hard ships and love in everything he does. Perhaps Riaan doesn't even know but so called "Adventurers" actually criticize him for what he does. Some hate everything he stands for and its so sad to see a war on words happening between adventurers.

I take my hat off to the two of them who trudge through trouble every day even when not out on a trip.

Back to the drawing board for me. 5 Months left and I don't have one visa, my flights are not booked and all my sponsors and friends are not on board. Scary stuff.

Chris Froome's true struggle

I could see no better time than now to pay a tribute to a great man and cyclist, Chris Froome. My post is directly connected to the the first couple of chapters of his book "The Climb"

For those of you not familiar with Froome, he was the man who fought for Sir Bradley Wiggins in 2012 during the Tour De France to win him and his team an overall victory. One year later, his undeniable strength during the previous years tour, earned him the right as team leader for Team Sky. All eyes were on the Kenyan to deliver, and deliver is precisely what he did! Froome rode the perfect race not putting one foot wrong in the grueling three weeks in one of the worlds toughest races and was crowned the Champion on the 100th edition of the tour.

So what makes Froome so great? As I studied the man and his humble Kenyan beginnings I begun to realize that training, never giving up and pushing through pain in cycling would never be his biggest challenge. Let me elaborate. At the age of 6, Chris's mother and father went through a tough divorce leaving Chris and his mom financially crippled in Kenya while his father moved to South Africa.

Chris speaks in detail about his first race in Kenya on his entry level super market bicycle that is left damaged after his mom bumps him off it while driving behind him in her car. He speaks about meeting David Kinjah, the Kenyan cycling legend that taught him everything he knew. He speaks about sitting in the village watching the bicycle mechanics hammer his bike into shape. He speaks about his mom and his relationship and them making promises to never shout at each other again after his dad leaves the house.

He also speaks in detail about the feeling he feels in his stomach as a youngster when people shout at each other and the vivid memories it brings back of his mom and dads bitter relationship. After that he explains the time that his dads employees tear their gate down and storm the house to take most of their belongings away. A story that is touching to me is when he sells fruit at the local village and slips the notes into his moms purse without her knowing. He is always concerned about their financial situation and gets worried for his mother when it is her turn to buy all his friends ice cream that he rushes into the shop and choses all the cheapest ice creams for his friends leaving them no room to decide for themselves.

Starting off in a dusty village on an old bicycle in Kenya seems like an unlikely setting for our Team Sky hero but it makes one realize just how much of his struggle happened before he ever got his first road bike.

Struggle is key, getting through struggle is vital and conquering the mind is crucial in becoming a champion. It has been easy for Froome to conquer mountains all over the world compared to the struggles he had to overcome in Kenya. Failure was not an option!

The love of writing

In the past two weeks I have finished Sir Alex Ferguson's Autobiography as well as being on the verge of finishing Rafa Nadal's Biography.

The love of writing and reading I feel has definitely become a more integral part of my life in the past couple of months. Its the place where I can find my most peace and solitude in the midst of all that goes on around me on a daily basis. 

Just today I was stopped by a lady in gym who had promised to bring me a copy of a book she said she would bring for me a couple weeks back. She ordered me to dig around in her back to find it while she continued her exercise routine on the treadmill. The  book is about Two Port Elizabeth brothers who cycled from South Africa to London before world war 2 even started. 

I have examined the cover briefly and don't want to take to much notice of it until I have finished the book I am currently on. It looks very interesting though, and I must say I can't wait to start it.

Im in a bit of a frustrating place at the moment and I am not to sure why. I feel myself becoming less effective in my planning leading up to Cairo to Cape Town Expedition. Perhaps it is the sheer distance and difficulty of the trip that has discouraged my planning. 

I sit looking over the towns dam during this particularly chilly winters day and long for adventure beyond. The air is dirty and smoke from fires hover around the house every evening. There is something dreary and dead about a this town in the dead of the winter that leaves a sick feeling in my stomach, an emptiness, a longing for solitude on the road. I have been quenching my thirst for adventure in my books, but the books will only help me for a tiny bit longer.

The Blind leading the blind...not such a bad thing

Music whispers quietly in the background of my local gym as I make my way out towards the parking lot. Its been a good, challenging session, a usual day, nothing to be overly excited about.

I look down at my feet as I stroll over the gym floor. My feet follow one another in a slow smooth rythym as my eyes gaze in a trans at the patterns on the floor. Past the tread mills, then the stationary bikes and the orbitrex machine, I walk, slowly, thinking about everything but nothing at the same time. My head hangs but I am not down, I came here for business and I don't want to disturb anyone getting their work done, I look at nobody. The clanging of weights and the squeaking of the circuit timer make me aware of where I am. Its a place to escape, to dream your dreams in the presence of other dreamers while sweat drips down your brow and pain enters every inch of your body.

I continue slowly until an arm reaches out from the direction of the abdominal section and blocks my path. I get caught thinking negatively and my face shows the dissatisfaction of being disturbed. "Are you the guy that cycled to Cape Town from Witbank," he asks.

My face should light up, my heart should ignite and my words should bubble over in excitement for the three epic journeys that have changed my life...but...they don't. I hate the attention! I want to hide behind my words written from behind a keyboard while lying in my tent as a storm rages outside. I want to hide behind a still photograph that shows a smile on my face while I pedal where no man should be riding. I fight my feelings and try to be the light in the darkness that shines to give others hope, but I struggle. Id prefer to be the faceless soldier, hiding behind a grid iron battle mask, that represents an ideal rather than just another man.

I stretch out my hand, smile shyly and admit that its me, while scrambling to put my phone and keys on the bench to shake his hand. After three years of cycling I am still unconvinced of my achievement as to whether it is something that should be admired by others or not. Its something that every single person is capable of. None the less I try my utmost best to look amazingly confident in my adventures.

We engage in a conversation and the man tells me his name while asking question after question about my trips. I attempt to answer in the the little amount of time I have been given but know, I can only express the tiniest of fraction of the true experience. After sharing my story in a pathetically short unimpressive summary. The man, a lean but strong African, approximately the same hight as me, who I have now come to know as Kenny, begins to engage me in a story about a fellow colleague of his.

His colleague is partially blind and each year his sight deteriorates drastically. As Kenny describes the troubles the man goes through on a daily basis walking to work, my mind takes me away as I try to imagine the difficulties of his condition. Its not long before my eyes begging to blink fastest and I feel tears building up in my eyes. Kenny has only been speaking for a minute but it feels as though I know his colleague well enough to sympathize with him. My emotion begins to show as he describes the mans two comrades marathon finishes only being able to see a few feet in front of him at a time. I cannot fathom the difficulty of his achievement and feel it only natural to feel overly sorry for the man.

Its then that Kenny says something extremely profound, "He can only see a little in front of him, if you call him from far, he has no idea who is calling him." The words echo in my mind as the sentence filters down to the deepest chambers of my heart. And then, it dawns on me. This "blind" individual is someone who we can learn a great deal from in our daily life. If we can only but look a couple of meters ahead of us at a time, we will perfect the small steps in between our goals. While staring at mountains we stumble on the pebbles at our feet. Though he cannot see far away, the man makes use of the vision he does have to examine that which is close much more intensely than an average man.

This man with little vision may perhaps have taught me to have more vision and has inspired me without even being present. This stranger, who I do not know, has become an inspiration to me. Never be so closed minded about your achievements that you cannot stop to draw a lesson from those which walk around us on a daily basis.

Keegan "Kunjani" Longueira

The reasons we love gym

I sit under the hood,which hides my identity from the world, and stare down at my swollen hands which rest on lap facing downwards. The smell of sweat, blood, broken dreams and hopes fill my nostrils...this is my battlefield.

My chest rhythmically balloons up and down as I try recover while my head falls back and rests just over the cold leather bench which supports my back. Im focused, my eyes are now closed as I see the music in my mind that blares into my ears. The muffled noise to those which pass is my inspiration. Behind the music I can faintly make out the sound of clanging iron and shouts of encouragement. The dark room lightens slightly as the clock hits 5am. My shoulders are paining, there is little that can compare to the numb bulging feeling I feel in my arms. "You will amount to nothing," "You are going nowhere", the words of critics fill my conscious mind as I reach down and clench my weights...the only thing that doesn't lie to me, my only true friend, my brother, my advisor...my iron. I heave each dumbbell onto my thighs one at a time while never loosing sight of the faded number tippexed on the face of the plates. I have nothing left inside my muscles and the only energy pushing me forward is that of the cruel words whispered at me behind my back..."failure" I whisper to myself as my right leg kicks to assist me bringing the weight up to my shoulder. My left leg now kicks as I shove the second dumbbell to my shoulder. My back feels as if its breaking under the pressure but the motivation inside of me balances my spine. 

I compose myself, the calm before the storm...I am ready. You see because its never been about the weights I fling around nor the man I see in the mirror. It has simply become a punishment, a self inflicted yet passionate pain that moulds my mind, my character and my entire being. I clench my teeth as I throw the iron heavenly, my head feels as if its about to explode. As I lower the weights and catapult these dreams upwards again my neck muscles and back clench tightly. By the third repetition my arms shake violently. This is where champions are made I say over and over in my head as the sound of my heart beat thuds in my ear. I feel the throb of my heart in my eyes and head as I complete the fourth repetition. By the fifth, my arms are failing. I call upon my heart once more as I shut the excuses in my mind up for the last time. The weights clang in unison with my shaking arms and as they reach the summit of my repetition they begin pressing downwards quickly. Gravity seems stronger as ever as I throw the dumbbells into a pile on the floor in front of me. I drop my head once more, not looking up, staring...staring at my broken dreams. I stare at the veins in my hands, my shoulders are tighter than ever as my chest begins to balloon one more. A drop of blood falls onto my sweaty gym track pants as I continue to stare at the weights on the floor. I will never give up. I will continue to pursue perfection in everything I do. I am a man, full of courage, ready to chase a path less travelled in order to obtain a prize no man can touch, taste or feel. This is my battlefield.

The dangerous road ahead

Kidnaping and violence in Kenya is on the rise, the issues of spiraled so far out of control that now, sitting safely in South Africa, I must sit up and take notice.

The word faith is often thrown around in our comfortable safe little lives. Setting foot in this country, alone and completely unaided starts to bring a new dimension to the word for me. It is true that I only leave on my Cairo to Cape Town Expedition in January 2015 and it is also possible that all these events have subsided by then, but the horrors being shown on the news today left a lump in my through.

It's gut churning to think, in a couple of months, I will be cycling into the unknown...and as I type on my keyboard again this word echoes in my subconscious, "faith." What does it mean? Who is for? The religious? The God fearing? The noble? I'm as lost as ever before as I dive deep into the meanings of the word and the various translations.

Just today I got an email from David Grier in connection with the new VISA law being passed in Kenya:

" Hi Keegan

The hardest part of this journey is going to get the visas. The same happened with the 2 guys who flew micro- lites down Africa. The other problem is the huge increase in terrorist activities with Boko- Haram. Word will travel ahead of you and you will be a target.You are going to have long stoppages at border posts and the rest.  

Kind Regards " 

Another travel UK government site offers advice to those traveling abroad to Kenya pleading with them to be vigilant of terrorist attacks. And all the while, my bicycle, being alone seems to complicate my situation further. I don't know what lies ahead, but I shall walk bravely with a God who has been with me since day 1. 

I will walk ahead in faith praying for people to keep me and Kenya in my thoughts and prayers when I leave on January 1 2015.