The 2025 Cape to Kili Cycling Expedition: An Unexpected Finish

Rihab Gwayed was the Content Creator for the 2025 Cape to Kili Cycling Expedition.

I thought the end would be simple: four more days on the bike, two rest days, then an easy roll to the finish near Kilimanjaro. Two months from Cape Town, our group of about twenty had found a steady rhythm – couples, friends, a father and son, and plenty of solo riders woven into one. Then Tanzania, our final destination, changed.

We heard about the political protests a few days after crossing the border from Malawi. We continued riding for two stages until we reached an amazing camp at Mto wa Mbu. We were lucky to stay there, in a safe, quiet mountain town with a wide view over Lake Manyara. Yanez, our Tour Leader, made the call to stay put until we had a clearer sense of what was happening after we heard that it wasn’t safe to keep cycling toward Arusha which had been affected by the protests. The internet was down and without the distraction of the online world, we shifted into the one right in front of us. We were allowed to make calls from TDA’s satellite phone and that helped many of us reassure our families that we were safe and sound.

Many of us spent time in Mto wa Mbu, a small farming town with a Maasai community that felt far from what was happening in the big cities. The internet being down didn’t really change much about our days. Ine, Joris and Anton did what they always do on rest days: they rode up into the mountains for a long spin, hundreds of kilometres. I stayed closer to camp – walked the forest nearby, swam in the river, and listened to the sounds of the African rainforest.

Even with that calm, tension lay underneath. We trusted Yanez, and that trust made the waiting possible. While we rested, he kept moving – talking with local people, checking nearby towns, and sharing updates each evening at our rider meeting, trying to piece together a picture of potential risk and possible safe routes. As we were in a disconnected world, we didn’t know how the situation was unfolding. Some information from the capital spoke of hundreds of deaths. We couldn’t confirm details, but the weight of it settled over us. Flights routed through the capital started to look uncertain. Plans for holidays after the tour started to fade. I caught myself running through worst-case scenarios and then pulling back to the basics: stay patient, stay together, listen.

The crew worked through every option. Do we keep riding as planned? Reroute and risk the unknown? Do we wait, and if so, for how long? What if our food runs out? Somewhere in the middle of the worry, we even laughed together about needing to learn hunting skills to get by, a small release that made the atmosphere feel lighter. With no reliable news, each path had shadows. Ultimately, we made a straightforward choice: move to our final destination in a convoy to avoid cycling through Arusha.

It meant missing two riding days and our planned rest day at Snake Park. Some of the riders felt disappointed to lose those kilometres, especially because they were the last ones, but at the same time, relieved that we were choosing the safest route we could. Once the plan was set, the mood shifted. We formed up as one, the police escorted us to make it as safe as possible, passing through Arusha and seeing few signs of any violent events.

Arriving at River Trees Lodge, our finish line, I felt my tension finally ease. It was our last stop on the tour and what a wonderful reward – a luxury hotel room in the middle of the forest with a river flowing through it. We considered continuing the convoy to the Kenyan border and flying out from there but then the internet began to return, slowly. We checked our phones, reached our families, and read the current news. The situation looked more stable. Some riders rebooked flights; others were able to fly straight from Kilimanjaro and avoid Dar es Salaam.

One thing remained constant: Yanez and the crew didn’t leave until they were sure everyone had a safe way home. They checked itineraries, helped with changes, and kept their eyes on the details until the last rider’s plan was solid. That mattered to all of us. It reflected the kind of finish we wanted – shared, safe, and cared for. So did it still feel momentous? For me, yes. Not loud. Not a sprint. More like an arrival that carried relief, gratitude, and respect for the week we’d just lived through. We didn’t finish the tour we planned; we finished the tour we had. In that difference, the ending felt genuine and earned – shaped by the place, the people around us, and TDA’s choice to put safety first.