Race to Rhodes ‘24 - Preamble

The corrugations send ripples through my aching muscles as I roll out of Rhodes. The roadside grass, adorned with predawn frost, sparkles like jewels in the glare of my lights. Ahead, I see two pools of light cast by riders inching their way up the switchbacks on their journey to Chesneywold. The first glimmer of daylight faintly outlines the mountains in the eastern sky. It's -3°C. Inside the Defender, the seat warmer eases the spasms in my back, and the cabin is a comfortable 22°C. My thoughts drift less to my drive home and more to the journey from Pietermaritzburg to Rhodes over the previous few days.

Commitments and complications on the home front made the prospect of hitting the trail for any of the winter '24 events a remote possibility. As the entry cutoff date drew close, I contacted the race office to ask if a late entry was possible if the opportunity arose. They said I could enter late, but it would mean no resupply tubs. Having done a couple of FC events without tubs, that wasn't an issue.

As June approached and the window of opportunity narrowed, I gave up on the idea of racing and lost the motivation to get on my bike. After the race started, like hundreds of others, I took up duty as a dot watcher, checking in regularly to see how the race was unfolding. Watching riders lay down tyre tracks over terrain I've spent the last 18 years familiarising myself with led to a rise of FOMO. Still, the steps required for me to clear my schedule hadn't coalesced.

Two days before the start of the last batch of the Race to Rhodes, I took steps to resolve a roadblock issue, which I managed to clear by lunchtime. That afternoon, I made two phone calls. The first to the race office to check if I could ride, and the second to arrange a lift with Pieter van der Westhuizen, who was leaving for the race the next morning.

Next, I got my bike up on the stand at work for an express service. Once home, I stayed up until midnight rummaging through my cupboards, tossing race kit into a bag. Riding shoes were a challenge since I had trashed a pair on The Karoo Meander the month before, leaving me with only a pair of lightweight MTB shoes suitable for riding around the Cradle. In the dark recess of my cupboard, I found a pair of well-used Shimano shoes from a previous Race Across South Africa. They showed signs of wear, but the soles were mostly intact, and they had usable laces and cleats. Into the bag they went.

Fortunately, Pieter had planned a late departure, which allowed me a quick trip to the shops to buy the last bits and pieces I needed.

At midday, we hit the road, heading for the Sleeping Bao in Pietermaritzburg.