Munga 2019 - Part 4 - To Vanderkloof

Leaving the police station I pedal in the direction of the closed shop which quickly comes into view. Just before the shop the route turns right. I give the shop one last scornful look and settle into a cheerless rhythm. The next objective is the steel arch bridge that spans the Rietrivier. There's nothing of significance there except the bridge. It comes toward the end of a particularly tough section. It's not that hard but it's an uninspiring ride of 25km. Once I get to the bridge I know there's another short district road section before I can look forward to riding through some farmland where there is a tap.

I get to the bridge and I'm cramping and struggling to maintain momentum. I ride across and stop in the dappled shade of a threadbare tree. It's late in the afternoon but the sun is still taunting me. It's hot. I've drained two of my water bottles since leaving the police station. I get off and sit on the ground. I'm tired and if I have to be honest I've had enough of this nonsense. The heat has taken its toll. I've been crawling along and it feels like I'm generating fewer watts than a garden slug.

I busy myself transferring water between my bottles and adding another sachet of Game when Mickael pulls up. He asks if I'm okay. I tell him I'm cramping. I neglect to tell him I'm being a wimp. He also stops and soon we are joined by Martin Bain Venn. We spend a few minutes there while I sort myself out and we head off together. I tell them about the tap up ahead and the three of us move together sharing duty opening and closing gates as we go.

Soon we see the tap adjacent to some workers houses. We veer off the farm track toward the tap. The good news is that the tap has water. The not so good news is that the water is hot. This as a consequence of the black PVC pipe that routes the water from a distant reservoir snakes across open ground and therefore acts like a mini solar geyser. I fill my bottles and give the BottleSox a good soak. In 20 minutes the water will cool enough to drink. I'm done and head off. The other 2 soon overhaul me and disappear up the road.

As I round a corner I see a vehicle parked next to a farm gate. A farmer has set up an impromptu water point to supply water to the riders. He has a container of ice cold water on the back of his bakkie and his children quickly top off my bottles. This unexpected surprise lifts my spirits and I head off with a little more vigour. I remind myself that once it cools down I'll be able to move faster. It takes some convincing. It's getting dark and I'm still some way from water point 2. Last year I arrived there in daylight. I figure I'm at least an hour if not more behind where I wanted to be.

I can see red tail lights ahead and looking behind I don't see any bright white LED lights. Seems like I'm not the only one struggling. I slowly reel in a rider ahead of me. A few kilometres short of WP2 I pull up next to Jack Black. He, as always, is in good spirits. We roll into WP2 together.

I put my bike down and head over to fill my bottles. There's a buzz about. I'm told the Dutch guy has pulled out. So Ramses is out. I guess the heat got to him. I'm not surprised. My first thought is that I'm not doing too bad then. I ask if anyone knows how many people have gone through. Someone pulls out their phone and announces that I am the 13th rider to come through. I'm doing a lot better than I thought.

Four of us roll out of the water point at the same time. We negotiate a couple of gates and then there's only 3 of us. Jack Black is riding on the other side of a fence and the 3 of us have run out of runway at a junction of 2 fence lines. Looks like we missed a gate and Jack is on track. All we need to do is hop the fence. Easy matter as there are a number of sturdy fence poles. Hmm, there are sturdy poles for a reason. We are hemmed in by an electric fence. The other guys lift their bikes over the fence and then hop over. As I drop my bike over the fence there is a loud snapping sound. An electric arc jumps between the fence and my bike. The fence is on! The fence continues zapping my bike with metronomic precision. I hope it's not going to fry my GPS cause that'd be a mess. One of the other riders gingerly grabs my bike by the rubber handlebar grips and liberates it from the fence. He lays it safely on the ground and heads off with the others.

I don't like electric fences. They can hurt you, particularly stock fences. If the zap doesn't hurt too bad the impact of falling off the fence will most certainly hurt. Riding back to the gate is not an option because I don't have a bike—It's on the other side of the fence.

I size up the fence and figure out which strands are earth and which ones bite. Then I carefully climb over and am relieved once I'm clear and unzapped. I retrieve my bike and chase after the blinking red lights far ahead.

We empty onto a district road and it's just Martin and I. We work together and haul in another rider. It's James Ross Marsh. He joins us and we ride together. We manage to stay clear of aardvark holes but Martin burps a tyre just before we get to the tar road into Vanderkloof. James stops to give him a bomb while I continue my trudge into town. I arrive at Race Village 1 and sign in.

It's 23:23 and I'm arrival number 10. That's almost 2 hours slower than I had wanted. Never mind, at least I'm here. It's been a tough day of riding. I'm told there are at least 20 riders who have already quit the race. While a lot it's a lot less than I thought would drop out given the conditions. I don't have time to interrogate the details of who they are. I need to refuel and get back on the road.