Llewellyn Lloyd - Reblex Photography
11:26pm. Back on the bike. We'd been on the go for almost 18 hours. As you'd expect we were starting to fatigue. The aftermath of the mad dash from to Bucklands was still evident in my legs. I wasn't too concerned as the ride out the back of Bucklands through the neighbouring farm of Tretyre wouldn't be too taxing. Or so I thought.
We had 12 hours to cover the 96km to Kudu Kaya. That would give us time to eat and refresh before ambling off to the gate for a 1pm start. Sounds simple enough. 96km's at the average speed we had managed getting to Bucklands - 16.2km/h - that's less than 6 hours which means we could catch the 6am shuttle from the gate. If only.
I broke the route down into bite size chunks. We were tired so I added wiggle room.
Passing Hadley (42km) 03:30AM
Crossing the river in the Grootrivierpoort (52km) 04:30AM
Start of Osseberg (65km) jeep track 06:30AM
First river crossing (75km) 07:30AM
9th and last river crossing (87km) 10:30AM
Kudu Kuya (96km) 11.30AM
If we could keep to that schedule we'd be fine. For me it was important to get to the start of the Osseberg jeep track around first light. If we got there earlier it would take slightly longer to get across the mountains and down to the first river crossing because the track is perforated with holes dug by every critter from aardvarks to dung beetles. These bike size holes are easier to spot in daylight. But earlier was always going to be better than later.
There was more soft sand than usual in the crossings over the Grootrivier on the back exit of Bucklands which had me pushing my bike. Once away from the river the going improved. Soon we were through the boundary gate between Bucklands and Tretyre. I've always found the section through Tretyre a lot harsher than Bucklands. The veld thinner and it's rockier. I'm always amazed that sheep can find sufficient grazing.
We had progressed no more than a few hundred metres when we found ourselves trying to pedal through a sandpit. Roger was a lot more determined than I was. I saw him mashing his pedals and forcing his bike through the sand. I yielded quickly and walked. For the next few kilometres we encountered sandpit after sandpit. I don't recall ever having to ride through sand on this section. I concluded that runoff from the recent heavy rains, in an area that has been in the grip of a drought for the best part of a decade, had deposited the sand onto the jeep track.
I was walking more than I was riding. Roger was riding more than he was walking but he wasn't getting away from me. At one point I saw him attack a deep section of sand which ended with him toppling off his bike head first into a bush. Clearly the sand had won that skirmish. I chuckled loudly before regaining my composure enough to ask if he was okay. He was fine.
We eventually made it to the final farm gate out of Tretyre that emptied onto a good district road. It had taken us 90 minutes to cover 20 flat but sandy kilometres. The next 20 kilometres to Hadley would be on a good district road but from here on out there were a lot of hills to be climbed with what seemed a lack of corresponding descents.
Cresting a climb I looked back and Roger was nowhere to be seen. Apparently sleep monsters were in the early stages of laying siege.
I arrived at the gate to Hadley at 02:30AM which put me an hour ahead of schedule. I could see Roger's light in the distance. In this part of the world you can see lights forever. He could have been 1km behind me or 10km. I couldn't tell. At least he was still moving.
It was only 10km to the river crossing at the bottom of the Grootrivierpoort dropping 400m over the last 4km. It should have been a quick pedal but the terrain is such that it took 45 minutes. The exhilaration of the final 4km descent was tempered by the knowledge that I would have to regain the altitude I'd lost in the 4km's after I'd crossed the river.
I plodded through the river and started the steep climb up the other side. I guess a reasonable cyclist could ride most of the climb out from the river on fresh legs but I wouldn't know because every time I've gone up that climb it's been on tattered legs. This time it was no different. I turned and watched Roger's bike light tracing a line down the mountain toward the river below me. He wasn't far behind.
The track flattened out sufficiently for me to get back on the pedals. The start of Osseberg jeep track lay 10 tiring kilometres ahead.
At the top of the final climb before dropping to the start of the Osseberg jeep track I stopped and scanned the valley below looking for signs of life. If Roger was out there he was either running dark or he was lagging.
I rolled to the start of the jeep track and stepped around the NO ENTRY sign. It was 5:15AM.
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