What does it take to get a cycling team from Kenya to Rwanda by road? A bus full of determined riders, a trailer full of bikes, and a stack of documents taller than the Rift Valley.
The trip to Kigali for the World Cycling Championships was supposed to be simple: load the bikes, load the riders, drive through Uganda, cross into Rwanda, and roll into the city like champions. Instead, we discovered that moving a cycling team across two international borders is more like an endurance race in its own right.
First challenge: the paperwork. At the Uganda border, an officer looked at our documents, looked at the bikes, looked back at us, and asked if we were importing spaceships. Apparently, carrying fifteen carbon frames and wheels that look like they belong in a wind tunnel raises eyebrows. We explained, with our best straight faces, that no, these were not drones, they were bicycles. Actual bicycles. That we planned to ride, not fly.
Second challenge: the bikes themselves. Every rider swears their bike is their baby, so watching border guards handle them like suitcases was an Olympic-level test of self-control. One officer casually leaned on a $6,000 aero frame while stamping a passport, and you could almost hear the collective gasp of cyclists holding back tears.
Third challenge: the delays. If cycling teaches patience, border crossing teaches graduate-level patience. Hours passed as forms were checked, re-checked, and stamped. We joked that by the time we got cleared, we would have aged a whole cycling category. Juniors turning elite, elites turning masters, all in one border queue.
Finally, Rwanda. Once the paperwork dust settled and the last bike was officially declared “not a drone,” we rolled into Kigali with a mix of relief, laughter, and stories we will be retelling for years. The road had tested our endurance before we even clipped into the pedals, but the team spirit carried us through.
They say cycling is about suffering, but no one mentioned suffering in line at customs with a bus full of sweaty riders. Still, every stamp, every form, and every raised eyebrow was worth it. Because when you finally reach Rwanda, when you finally line up to race, you realize the journey itself was part of the challenge.
Lesson learned: next time, we’re bringing extra snacks, extra patience, and maybe a lawyer for the bikes.
One team. One dream. One very complicated and fulfilling road trip.
