Digital Wanderer

We live as long as we fly

Jordan — 10, day four, storming the pass to Dana (madness and courage – 2)

 2015-12-21

The previous part ended with us hanging on the edge of an incredible descent. We're experienced guys, so we bundled up in our warmer athletic gear, knowing the headwind would chill us to the bone. The descent really did trigger an adrenaline rush. In places, the highway was wide, visibility was decent, and there were stretches long enough for me to risk my neck and try to set a speed record with my new 40-tooth front chainring. Previously, I found it hard to pedal even at 45 km/h, lacking the gear ratio; now that number went up to at least 50. It's a risky business, but the temptation to beat the record was just too great. My previous speed record on a bicycle was 73 km/h, set in the grey days of yore when I just started my cycling career and rode a bike abroad for the first time.

View of a rocky mountain gorge with sparse green trees on the slopes under a clear blue sky. In the foreground on the left runs a road with a metal guardrail.

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Jordan — 11, Day Four, Arrival in Dana

 2015-12-21

The previous part ended with us leaving the incredible sight of a hundred wind turbines behind, and we were soon supposed to reach Dana. In my mind, it was a tiny village on the edge of a nature reserve, so the bunch of houses and mosques we soon saw didn't fit the model in my head at all. Dragging my feet like a zombie, with my brain barely functioning, I heard some bad sounds coming from my bike. I absolutely didn't want to investigate yet another problem, but blowing it off wouldn't make things any better, especially since the sounds were getting louder. I'd already heard similar rustling sounds during my trip to Cyprus — back then it was because the rear rack was a bit crooked, and in the end, not wanting to deal with it properly, I just blindly bent it with my hands, risking breaking it or the frame.

 

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Jordan — 9, Day Four, Morning Climb near Karak

 2015-12-19

We woke up around seven and quickly packed without having breakfast. Outside it was gray, chilly, and dank—as much as this Baltic word applies to a country where it rains a couple of times a year. The sky was overcast with a gray blanket, it felt like a couple of drops might even fall on us. Of course, this was an illusion: during our entire stay in Jordan, we never did see any rain, although rumor had it there had even been floods in Amman shortly before our arrival.

Interior of a small bedroom with a single bed, on which a mobile phone and a pillow lie. Next to the bed is a narrow arched window with a partially drawn curtain.

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Jordan — 8, the castle and city of Al Karak

 2015-12-18

Instead of bypassing the castle hill and the center, we accidentally plunged right into the thick of it. A motley, noisy crowd of people and cars, the clingy kids again, and the heavily polluted air, all piled on top of the exhaustion from a one-and-a-half-kilometer climb, slightly fogging our minds. We had almost ridden all the way down from the center, and from the edge of the mountain, we could see the place where our hotel was supposed to be.

However, my restlessness flared up again, and I gently but persistently talked Alexander into visiting the ruins, the city center, and all that anyway — after all, it would be stupid to just ride through Jordan on the highway without seeing a single tourist attraction or city. No matter how skeptical I am of hyped-up places, many of them became that way for a reason. Some people are satisfied with nature, some with cities, and others are perfectly happy with a beach, but I don't see any artificial reasons to limit myself to certain beauties of life if there's a chance to taste them all. Especially since life usually flows in a rather predictable and tedious way, and the chance to break out of the routine doesn't come along very often.

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