Cycling the United Arab Emirates would be the last leg of my amazing Middle East adventure, and would see me catch up with many old friends. In the surreal city that is Dubai I would get to do something that I would never of thought possible in the middle of a desert.

Since leaving Ibri in Oman I had been cycling with Ignacio who was a fellow tour cyclist from Spain.  He, like me, had spent the last month cycling in Oman, and it was now time for us to finish our cycle through the desert as we headed across the border and into the United Arab Emirates.

For those of you who are not familiar with the United Arab Emirates (I had to look it up myself) here is a quick history lesson. 

After World War 2 many states in today’s U.A.E. were provided defence by the British government. In 1968,  Harold Wilson announced the withdrawal of all British troops from the area. 

This left a ‘political’ vacuum where a union of states was agreed in 1971 between six ‘states’ – Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Sharjah, Ajman, Umm Al Qawain and Fujairah, who all formed the U.A.E.  In 1972, they were joined by Ras Al Khaimah, after Iran’s annexation of the Tunbs Islands. 

Despite the protracted start it is a union that has lasted the test of time, including the 2011 ‘Arab Spring’ political uprisings. As an aside to this, if you have read my Oman blog posts you will know that Omani’s in general are regarded as pretty enterprising people, or some might say lazy, who would rather pay somebody else to do their work. 

Whether the following is true, or urban myth, I’m not sure, but apparently during the ‘Arab Spring’ Omani’s paid Bangladeshi’s to dress up as Omani’s and stand in the heat to protest.  If it’s not true, I still love it as a story.

Back to the present day though, and Ignacio and I crossed the border between Oman and the U.A.E at Mezyad border crossing which was hassle free as we both received free visas on arrival, and within 30 minutes we were through both checkpoints.

It was now time to get on with cycling the United Arab Emirates.  The border post was 30km from the city of Al Ain which was our destination that evening.

That night we were going to stay with Pete, Michelle and their son Haydn. They were a couple of former colleagues that I worked with in Ho Chi Minh City who had relocated to Al Ain for work.  As we were still 30km away we had another couple of hours cycling before we got to the outskirts of the city. 

The area of the city where Pete and Michelle lived was in the shadow of Jebel Hafeet, the mountain that dominates the view to the south of the city. 

The climb up it is meant to be amazing – something like a 700m elevation gain over just a few kilometres.  If only we had the time then it would have been a fantastic afternoon’s ride to the top.  Instead, we skirted along the bottom until we had reached Pete and Michelle’s house.

I hadn’t seen them since Pete became the head teacher of a school in Al Ain a couple of years ago, and it was great to see them again.

It seemed like we had arrived just in time as they were on the move again and returning back to the UK.  They couldn’t offer us a bed, their shipping had already left for the UK, but they could offer us a floor.

Pete is a big rugby man and in Al Ain he was the forwards coach for one of the local teams.  That night was the team’s final training session before a cup final game the following weekend, so after a quick shower we all piled into their car and drove to the rugby club.

As it was the final training session before the final, the game was non-contact as the players went through their routines.

While Pete was running around on the pitch Michelle, Ignacio and I relaxed in the stands and had dinner.

While catching up Michelle told us about her turbulent arrival in the U.A.E – when they left Vietnam they had shipped their furniture and belongings to Al Ain. When it arrived Michelle, who’s name was on forms, was summoned to the police station and arrested under ‘terrorism’ offences. 

She was then held overnight in a women’s cell until she could be taken, shackled hand and foot, before a court judge the following morning.

The offence that she had been charged with – importing an explosive device into the country.  The ‘bomb’ turned out to be a kids plastic toy hand grenade and she was only released from custody once the lab reports came back to confirm that it was a plastic toy. 

On a more positive note,  their son Haydn plays prop for a youth rugby team at the club and was this year named player of the year. 

It was a great night, and one of the highlights of my trip has been catching up with old friends as it always special. 

My time in the United Arab Emirates was short and I had given myself just two weeks to cycle through the country as I already had a flight booked out of Dubai.  My original plan had been to catch a boat from Dubai to Iran, but my visa had twice been denied (a British/Iranian government issue) and instead I was booked on a flight to Bulgaria on the 12th of April. 

As my time in the U.A.E was so short the next morning Ignacio and I said our farewells 

And cycled out of Al AIn in the direction of Dubai.

One of the main issues of cycling in the U.A.E is that it is essentially one big desert and the only roads that have been built are 4 lane highways that link the main cities.  Not an appealing prospect from a tour cyclists viewpoint.

The other issue is that it is technically illegal to actually cycle on the highways as you are not allowed to ride a bike on any road with more than a 90 kmph speed limit (all main roads in the U.A.E have a speed limit in excess of this !!!!)

However, whilst cycling on the highways I was passed by many police cars that just waved at me as they went past so like the highways in Chile I think it is a rule that is thankfully not enforced.  (the fine if stopped was 600 Dhirams/130 GBP)

As we didn’t fancy cycling on the highway we tried to find a road that went north from Al Ain towards a town called Al Faqa.  On the map it looked like there was a track through the desert, and when Ignacio and I left the next morning we cycled out to the very north of the city where the airport was located.

Al Ain is known as an oasis in the desert and the ride out was along very green roads with lots of flowers

There was even lovely message boards by the side of the road

Once we reached the airport the watering stopped and the landscape returned to its ‘natural’ state

At one of the security gates at the airport we spoke with one of the guards who told us that there was no road further north and without a 4WD we wouldn’t be able to get through the dunes.

After checking the map we decided that our only option was to use the highways to get to the town of Nahil and then check again from there as it looked like there were ‘service’ roads heading towards Dubai.  However, Ignacio was not under any time constraints, and as he had not ridden through Wahiba Sands in Oman, he wanted to play in the sand for a couple of days.

We decided to go for an early lunch before we split up and would meet up again once he arrived in Dubai.  Ignacio took the photo below from the security camera as I cycled off which looked like I had left without paying !!!

As there was no other road I used the highway to cover the next 30km to get to the town of Nahil.

Even on the highways water was not an issue as they have built mosques by the side of the road.

For the next hour or so I passed nothing but sand!!

Once I reached the town of Nahil I checked the map and it looked like I could use ‘service’ roads to cross the dunes to get to Al Faqa.

It was one hell of a hot day to be cycling through the desert with the temperatures in excess of 40 C degrees and I stopped at every opportunity to get a drink.  At one place that I stopped to get a Miranda, my ‘drug’ of choice in the Middle East, as I was paying a local man, who was walking past, stuck his head in the door and spoke to the shopkeeper. 

When I tried to pay the owner told me that it was already taken care of.  That for me sums up my time in the Middle East –a collection of countries united by one common philosophy !!!  

By nightfall, I had reached the outskirts of the village of Al Faqa (again the spelling of the town differs depending on which mapping app you use).  The village was next to the main Dubai to Al Ain highway, and in the village there were a number of walled parks where locals, and drivers could stop off at, and sit on manicured lawns among flower beds (only the U.A.E. would build these in the middle of the desert !!!). 

Each of the parks had a toilet block and a security guard.

The parks closed at midnight, and although I couldn’t sleep in the park I had a shower in the toilet block and filled up on fresh water.

When I arrived in Dubai the next day I was going to be staying with Brian, an old school friend that I hadn’t seen for nearly 30 years, for a couple of nights and needed to let him know when I would be arriving.  As I hadn’t bought a SIM card for the U.A.E the security guard helped me out by asking a couple of the locals if they would let me use their hotspot to message Brian. 

Once I had let him know that I would be arriving the following morning I cycled out into the desert to set up camp in the dunes for one final time.

Sleeping in the desert had to be one of the nicest places to camp – the ground was easily made flat, the sand was warm to lie on and easily ‘moulded’ to my shape.  Plus, the view was often stunning and perhaps the best bit – I rarely had ‘neighbours’.

The following morning I was up early as I was cycling down the main highway between Al Ain and Dubai so wanted to be on the road to try and beat the traffic, and hopefully, avoid the police as cycling down the highway on a bicycle was illegal.

As it was Friday, a ‘weekend warrior’ was also out early taking his car for a spin in the dunes.  As he passed me he slowed and waved before sending a huge ‘rooster tail’ into the air and sped off.

10 minutes later he was back, and had brought me breakfast – a yoghurt drink, a bottle of water and fresh bread.  Another beautiful gesture from people who didn’t want anything in return.  I sure was going to miss the people of the Middle East. 

After packing up it was time to get on with cycling the final 50km to Dubai.  This was probably the part that I was not looking forward to – cycling on the E66 highway which was one of the U.A.E’s busiest highways.

Instead of hanging though I intended to ‘time trial’ this section of the highway, and so to lose weight I first cycled back to the park and gave all of my food to the security guard who had helped me the night before.  It was then time to get on with finishing my ride through the Middle East and get to Dubai.

As it was early on Friday morning, the weekend is Friday and Saturday in the U.A.E., it turned out that I had the highway pretty much to myself for the first hour and there was hardly any traffic on my side of the highway heading for Dubai.

Despite a slight headwind I managed to cover the 50km highway section to Dubai at an average speed of nearly 29kmph.

Not bad considering that I was on a touring bike weighing 16kg and was carrying nearly 12kg of equipment!!!

As it was still early by the time I arrived in Dubai I stopped at a restaurant near the entrance to the ‘compound’ where Brian lived.

Like in Oman, my staple food in the U.A.E. was Indian and that day I had a huge portion of daal with fresh;y cooked roti bread, and washed it down with a banana shake as a reward for my ‘time trial’ down the highway.

One of the customers in the restaurant let me hotspot off their phone so that I could send Brian a message letting him know that I was about 20 minutes away before setting off to find his house.

The compound that he lives in is known as ‘The Villa’, and as it is just outside of Dubai city centre it is still surrounded by sand dunes, a little ‘man made’ oasis in the desert.

I have no idea how many villas there are in the area but it must be a couple of hundred with each ‘development’ set around a central area. 

At the main entrance there was a security guard who, like they did in Vietnam, waved me through as I was ‘white’.  I stopped though as although I knew the villa number I wasn’t sure where it was in the compound. 

The security guard wrote down a series of directions which consisted of turn left at this roundabout and right at the next etc.  It is a bit like Milton Keynes on steroids – there were roundabouts everywhere !!!

I followed the directions that I was given and thought that I had arrived at the right villa.  I parked my bike in the driveway and as their side gate was open I thought about just walking through to the back of the house.  As I hadn’t seen Brian in nearly 30 years, and had never met Emma, his wife, or, William and Georgia, their two kids, I decided not to frighten them and rang the bell.

It was a good job I did as a young Filipino boy of about 6 answered the door.  I had never met Emma, who I assumed by her name was white, but knew his kids were teenagers, and so I reckoned the lad wasn’t theirs.  I asked to speak to mummy or daddy and he ran off to fetch someone.

When mum came to the door it turned out that I was at the right villa number but the wrong area.  The lady explained where I needed to go and 5 minutes later I had found the right house.

Even though I hadn’t seen Brian for so long it didn’t matter and had a great time catching up over coffee by the pool.

The other great thing about staying at somebodies house was that they tend to have a washing machine.  Even better though, the family had a live in maid, Riversai who was from Zimbabwe, so not only could I get all my clothes washed they came back ironed !!

As it was the weekend the day I arrived there was only one thing to do – head out into the desert for a barbeque and some drinks. 

I would like to say it was solely in honour of my arrival, but it was in fact a cacophony of ‘celebrations’ – their friend Nula would soon be returning to live in the UK and it was one of their friends kid’s birthday. 

After a quick shower we drove around to Simon and Susies’ house where champagne corks were merely popping.

My time in the Middle East had been pretty ‘dry’ with only 2 beers since leaving Muscat.  Not in Dubai though – later that afternoon when 13 of us headed out into the desert for a barbeque in the cars were two huge eskies full of wine, beer and bottles of champagne.

We drove out into the desert to a place known as Al Qudra Lakes.

The man made lakes, only in Dubai!!!, are about a 30 minute drive from the city centre, and lie at the end of ‘The Stick’ which is a cycle track that has been built out into the desert for people to ride. Seeing as technically it is illegal to ride on any main road in Dubai this is where most people now cycle when training.

It was a great afternoon and as it went dark Adam fired up the barbecue, and although we were in the Middle East, the sound of pork sausages were soon heard sizzling away.

It was a great night sat chatting by the water and the only ‘disturbance’ were a few weekend warriors who seemed determined to show off their skills, or in reality a lack of, as they tore up the sand.

One ‘local’ driver did such a good job of dune bashing that he got his car truly stuck in the sand as he lost control and span out.  The more he tried to get his pick up out of the sand the more it dug in. 

After hearing his engine ‘roar’ and watching him get deeper in the sand the consensus was that the only way to return to peace and quiet was to give him a hand and tow him out of the sand.  Simon and Brian did so and in true fashion the driver then roared off with rooster tails flying high into the air, no doubt needing to be rescued elsewhere rather soon.

After a fantastic evening it was gone midnight by the time we packed up and drove back to the city.

The next day Brian was my tour guide as he drove me round the centre of Dubai showing me the main ‘highlights’.

My only real experience of a city so far in the Middle East had been Muscat, the capital of Oman, as although I had stayed in Al Ain I had never been to the centre of the city.

Dubai was nothing like Muscat, it was a city built to impress and make headlines.

I’m not sure how many records the city holds for the biggest this or the largest that, but today it is the largest and most populated city in the United Arab Emirates. Despite it’s location, the prosperity has not been built on oil.  In Dubai, oil was only discovered in the late 1960’s, and although revenue helped to accelerate the development of the city, today is accounts for less than 5% of its income.

Despite a wobble in the aftermath of the 2007 financial crisis, today, tourism and real estate seem to be the name of the game in Dubai.  Everywhere I looked buildings were rising out of the dunes, and first stop on my ‘tour’ was the huge area to the east of the city that is busily being built to get ready for Expo 2020 

We then drove into the city centre where ‘modern’ Dubai was at its most opulent

As with everything else in Dubai the marina area it is not small – around 2km of artificial canals have been built that are home to an estimated 120,000 people.  Another crazy achievement for an ever expanding city.

After a leisurely walk around the marina area we drove out to one of the fronds of ‘The Palm’ to get lunch at the beach.

At the very end of ‘The Palm’ is the Atlantis Hotel

Part of the hotel is currently being refurbished and is one of the first major contracts that Brian has ‘won’ since going on his own and starting his own tiling company in Dubai.  A prestigious achievement for any new business, and I wish him well in his endeavours.

After a great afternoon exploring the city centre it was time to head home for a ‘British’ tradition – a family Sunday roast (even though it was Saturday, it was ‘technically’ Sunday in the Middle East)

Now, Dubai sure isn’t cheap in anybody’s book, but when we went to the supermarket on the way home a side of Australian imported beef to feed 5 people, plus Rosie and Poppy the two dogs, was nearly 100 GBP.  Now, that’s expensive!!!  That said, sitting down to a full roast dinner was fantastic.

It had been brilliant to finally catch up with Brian after 30 years and to meet his wife Emma, and teenage kids William and Georgia. 

The next morning though it was time for me to say goodbye to Brian, and complete my ‘tour of Dubai’.

That night I would be staying with Rob who was my triathlon training buddy when we both lived in Vietnam.  As it was Sunday morning he and his wife Airis were both at work, and so when I left Brian’s I cycled into the city to meet up with Ignacio who had finally arrived after a few days playing in the sand in the desert.

Brian’s place was about 30km from where I had arranged to meet Ignacio, and although Brian and I had looked at a route the night before it was slightly different when cycling in a city I didn’t know. 

Often, the easiest, and fastest way, is not the most direct when cycling as at every junction I needed to get out my phone to check which direction I needed to take.  It is much quicker to just get on a straight road where I could average over 20kmph without having to stop every couple of minutes.

The only problem in Dubai was that the only ‘straight roads’ were the highways where the 4 lanes of traffic flowed along at 130kmph.

Next to the highway there was a cycle lane and so after cycling round in circles a couple of times I decided that although longer it would be faster to take that.

As it was a working day and I was cycling in the middle of nowhere I had the cycle path to myself.  As I was cycling down the path I heard an enormous screech of brakes and saw a ‘water truck’ swerve crazily before losing control and ploughing its way through the metal barrier at the side of the road.

Thankfully, the driver got out of the cab unscathed and emergency services were soon on hand to try and recover the truck. 

A reminder though just how dangerous cycling on the highway could be and so when the cycle path ran out, and my only option was to cycle along the hard shoulder of the highway, I decided to ride the wrong way up the road.

Cycling the wrong way up a motorway may seem crazy, but honestly there was nothing more frightening than having to cycle down a motorway and constantly listen to cars and trucks doing over 100kmph as they approached me from behind. 

Riding the wrong way up the highway meant that I could at least see the traffic coming at me, and as they could see the ‘whites of my eyes’ they tended not to use the hard shoulder to ‘undertake’ traffic !!!

The intersections were interesting to say the least, as I not only had to contend with traffic coming at me from all directions I had to find the correct road to cycle the wrong way down.  If that sounds confusing, reality was even worse.

After probably the worst couple hours of cycling of this trip so far I finally arrived in the city centre and met up with Ignacio for lunch

After our time together in the desert it seemed slightly surreal being together in a city

He was staying in the very centre of Dubai, with some Spanish friends who worked there, and in the best Dubai style their apartment block was something like located in the world’s most densely populated residential skyscraper area in the world!!!

Honestly, this one was taking records a bit far – why would you want to live in such an area when the next apartment block was a matter of metres from your window?

Each to their own, and many thousands of people paid a premium to do so.

Although I had only seen Ignacio a few days ago it was great to catch up with him again and to talk not only about our adventures of getting to Dubai but our plans for future cycling adventures on the road. 

Unlike me, not being British, Ignacio had been able to get a visa for Iran and in a few day’s time he had booked a ferry that would take him from Dubai to the Iranian port of Bandar Abbas.

Obviously, part of me was very jealous as one of my inspirations for this ride was a fellow British round the world cyclist called Fraser who I had been lucky enough to meet in Vietnam.  He had cycled in Iran and raved about how amazing the people were.

As I tend to live in the here and now I didn’t hold regrets that I was twice refused a visa and look at it more as another reason to have to cycle in the future (if my wife lets me after being apart for a year !!)

After enjoying a great lunch with Ignacio it was time to finally say our goodbyes as I cycled off into downtown Dubai.

That afternoon I cycled aimlessly around the centre of Dubai just absorbing the atmosphere of the place

I had told Rob that I would get to his by 6ish and as he lived 20km out of the city centre in a development known as Remraam, it was another adventure down the highways of Dubai.   

As it was now rush hour this could have been a double edged sword – on one hand there would be way more traffic on the roads but on the other the roads should be ‘clogged’ with the traffic crawling along.  In my head that was the plan!!!

Either way, I decided to try and get out of the centre of the city without taking the highways, and by using, even if I say so myself, an ingenious route I managed to do so

Once out of the very centre of the city there was no alternative but to use the highways to get out to where Rob lived.  Thankfully, my other assumption about the build up of traffic had been correct and for most of the way as I cycled down the hard shoulder I was going faster than most of the cars.

Like when I arrived at Brian’s a few days earlier I knew the address where Rob and Airis lived, but didn’t know where the apartment was located in the development. 

I didn’t need to worry though because as I cycled into Remraam who should I see in the distance but Rob walking down to the supermarket.

Back in Vietnam I used to spend most of my spare time either swimming or riding with Rob, he was far too fast for me to run with, as we trained for this or that triathlon.  It had been nearly 2 years since I last saw him but I still recognized his walk from a few hundred metres away!!!

The corridor that his apartment was on was like an advert for ‘Mothercare’, and every flat had kiddies’ buggy outside the front door.

Since I had last seen Rob his family had grown, and he and his wife Airis had added a baby son, Sean, to their family.

It was great catching up with them, and we had a great night as we sat and chatted over dinner and a few beers.

Life in Dubai is pretty full on and the next morning they were both gone to work by 6.30am. My day was a bit more relaxed and as I had no plans I spent the day drinking coffee at their local café

And lazing next to the pool.

That night we drove into the city and went for dinner at a restaurant next to the sea.  One of my favourite drinks since crossing into the U.A.E. was mint lemonade (think mojito without the alcohol) and I think that Sean liked it too

The next morning I was up with ‘the Bergins’ as Airis was giving me a lift into the city on her way to work. This would be my penultimate day in Dubai and after seeing the glitz and glam of ‘new’ Dubai I wanted to go and see the ‘old’ city.

Airis dropped me off at the metro near to where she worked and I caught a train to Burjuman station.  Although most people associate Dubai with skyscrapers, and modern living, there are still buildings in the city that date back centuries. 

The oldest and ‘cultural’ centres of Dubai are Al Fahidi and Deira which are located on opposite banks of ‘The Creek’, Dubai’s original port where Dhows on there way from India and East Africa would offload their cargo.

Al Fahidi Fort, the city’s oldest building that still exists today, dates from 1787 and is located on the south bank of The Creek.

Outside the walls of the fort is a full size Dhow

Today, the fort is home to Dubai Museum and I had originally planned to visit but when I turned up a couple coach loads of tourists had just gone in and so I gave it a miss.

Instead, I tried to find the Sheikh Mohammed Centre for Cultural Understanding where Rob had said I could get a ‘free’ breakfast.

The cultural centre is located in Al Bastakiya village, and on certain days tourists can join Emirati hosts for either breakfast lunch or dinner and chat about UAE culture, customs and religion.  The day that I was there was a Tuesday and they only hosted a dinner on that day. 

So far I was not doing that well with my planned places to visit, but at least the Al Bastakiya area that I was wandering around was pretty arty.

The original plans had been to completely demolish this area but following a visit by Prince Charles the Dubai Municipality apparently had a change of heart and decided to restore the old buildings and narrow lanes to their former glory.

After getting completely lost in the narrow alleyways I eventually came out back at the waterfront, and as I had not yet had breakfast found a café on the water where I ordered an ‘Islamic’ version of a full english.

As pork was off the menu my breakfast included venison ‘bacon’ and lamb ‘sausages’.  As the heat of the day was rising I washed it down with a mint lemonade.

On the north bank of Dubai Creek is the area known as Deira.  The district is home to the traditional souqs which are a commercial hub for rice, spice, and gold trading. The easiest way to cross The Creek was on an Abra, a traditional wooden boat, that travel beteen the water stations along the river.

The souks on the Deira side make quite the contrast to the ‘sanitised’ modern, air conditioned malls that are springing up all over Dubai.

Obviously, tourists that are ‘bused’ in on coach tours are on a tight timetable and to make it easier for them to buy their souvenirs, and part with their cash, areas have been built to fully cater to their needs.

And if you thought that you had already bought everything that you needed there was always space to take with you a new wardrobe to show your friends back home how you had had such a great time and had assimilated into the local culture. 

As it is Dubai though, even here, I couldn’t’t quite get away from the cities need to be have the ‘largest in the world’, and a few shops in the gold district had displayed in their windows claims that they had created the biggest ring in the world. (I saw the same certificate in quite a few jewelry shops !!!)

The gold souq was perhaps the most impressive with all manner of beautiful pieces on display

Within the gold souq there are hundreds of family jewelers who can create any design that you fancy.

The government apparently keeps tight control over the quality of all the gold sold.  The same cannot be said, however, of the street vendors outside hawking “genuine fake” watches in the labyrinth of lanes outside !!!

I again wandered aimlessly around the different souqs lost in the atmosphere of the place.

It was great stopping here and there drinking karak tea and watching people get on with their daily lives.

Seeing as I had had a very relaxing day just wandering around the souqs it was time for a bit of activity – time to go skiing. Yep, it was over 40C degrees and I was in the middle of the desert but that didn’t stop Dubai – they had built a snow dome with a 400m run on real snow. 

The ski slope is located at The Mall of the Emirates, the world’s biggest mall (it couldn’t be anything else).  The fastest, and cheapest, way to get there was to jump back on the metro for the 30 minute journey.

Once at the mall it was time to go skiing.

Each night they generate real snow and to ensure that it doesn’t melt the temperature was kept at a constant minus 2 degrees.

It had been 10 years since I had been skiing with Tristan in Italy, and as there were no real nursery slopes here to practice on the only thing to do was jump on the ski lift and hope I didn’t break anything on the way down.

Half way up the slope there was the option to get off and ski from there, which I did.

It was quite daunting as I pushed myself over the lip of the snow bank onto the slope

I’m not sure that what I did on the way down could be described as skiing but I got to the bottom in one piece.

Having survived that run it was now time to go to the very top 

This slope was much steeper than where I had set off on my first run. Still, in for a penny in for a pound, and I pushed of down the slope hoping to get to the bottom without killing myself.

I managed to get to the bottom with all limbs still intact and the next two hours literally flew past as my confidence, if not my technique, improved.

Here is a short video to show you how brilliant it was:

It had been a brilliant and completely surreal end to my adventures in the Middle East and with a huge smile on my face I caught a taxi back to Rob and Airis’s.

That night Chris, who I had last seen a couple of years ago as he and Rob completed Ironman Frankfurt in Germany, came over to say hi after a training ride out to Al Qudra.

The lads were still ‘bitten’ by the Ironman bug, and the weekend before they had competed in Ironman South Africa (Chris missed out on improving on his Frankfurt time by 1 minute, but having spent 10 minutes sat on the toilet during the bike leg you could say he had beaten his ‘moving’ time)

We had a great night catching up on our respective adventure from the last couple of years over a few beers.

The next day it was time for me to say goodbye and cycle out to the airport to catch a flight to Bulgaria  in Eastern Europe from where I would start cycling back towards the UK.

To get to the airport I had one final section of highway to navigate and as traffic was light I cycled the right way down it.

Now for whatever reason airlines seem to make flying with a bike a hassle.  So before arriving at the airport I had already paid the 30 Euro fee that Wizz air charged to fly a bike, and checked their ‘rules’ to make sure I could fly with it wrapped in plastic flying.

Once at the airport I set about getting the bike ready to fly – taking the front wheel off and attaching it to the frame, turning the handle bars around, and removing the pedals  – before wrapping it in plastic.

As I was busy wrapping the bike a couple of airport staff came over to say that they wouldn’t be able to accept the bike wrapped in plastic.  This had happened before and I went through my normal ‘speech’ about the policy of the International Air Transport Association, which regulates air travel, and allows bikes to be flown in plastic bags.

The rule though was nothing to do with the airline, or even flying with a bike.  It turns out that since the beginning of March all airports in Dubai have ‘banned’ all pieces of irregularly shaped baggage !!! 

After a bit of back and forth, and meeting the duty manager of the airport to show him my website to prove I was indeed on a cycle around the world rather than simply going on holiday, they agreed to make an exception in my case and accepted the bike wrapped in plastic.

My time cycling through the Middle East was now done and the only word that can sum the last 6 weeks or so is – amazing. Although I couldn’t really recommend the experience of riding down the highways of the U.A.E, the rest of my trip had been an unforgettable experience.  

Every day had been an assault on my senses as I rode through beautiful landscapes, over steep mountain pass, and slept in stunningly mesmorising desert.   The last word though has to go to pay respect to, what was without doubt the highlight of the trip for me,  the unfaltering hospitality of the people.  Not a day passed where I wasn’t charged in a restaurant for a drink or a meal, a stranger who spoke no English invited to sit and share a coffee, or people just stopped to ask if I needed anything. As a tour cyclist I couldn’t ask for anymore.

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Cycling The United Arab Emirates
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