Is the Munga really the toughest race on Earth?

 

If you go online, www.themunga.com you will see the Munga billed as the "Toughest race on Earth."  Click on the Race tab and it proclaims, "The Munga is Unsupported."

Now, about the unsupported bit. Apparently there will be mechanics available at the checkpoints and the rules have been changed so that they may be used without incurring any time penalties. There are reasons given but the reasoning is flimsy. In fact, you are able to prebook a bike service at one of the checkpoints.  

"Unsupported" has taken on new meaning. This is certainly not the Freedom Challenge which forms the bulk of my endurance riding experience. 

The presence of masseurs at each checkpoint to give your legs a good rubdown is certainly not an FC feature. With the "fluid" race rules now allowing for mechanics, masseurs and race office supplied recharged power packs and probably a fully stocked pharmacy I am starting to wonder about the stuff I am going to carry. 

Perhaps the focus of this race has shifted away from endurance bike packing to cater for weight weenies who want to do a harder Epic!  Hard to call it "The toughest race on Earth" when it's so over supported. I am not sure what the motivation is behind the softening of the event. Perhaps the changes are to ensure middle and back field "non-racers" have the opportunity to finish. Except it also plays into the hands of the fast riders who can now pack lighter. 

The other side of the coin is attracting people to subsequent editions of the race. In the absence of million dollar prize money, or at least a world class purse it is unlikely that overseas riders will fit it into their schedules.

 

Domestically there are only a handful of riders who find really hard and unsupported races attractive while there seems to be no lack of appetite for fully serviced stage races such as Epic, Sani2c, Wines to Whales, etc.. That's the reality of the local biking community. 

This year there are less than 50 riders doing the Munga. To grow this race Alex needs to find the sweet point that becomes commercially inviting without stripping out too much of the grit and adventure. Billing it as "The toughest race on Earth" probably worked against them. I am keen to see how that line morphs into something that will resonate with Joe Average.  

Alex himself likes to take on tough challenges. I am not sure he would find the changes to his liking if he was racing. But he isn't racing. He is running the race and there is the economic reality of making the race attractive to both riders and sponsors and to make a profit. This is the inaugural event. I am sure there will be a few more tweaks before the race starts and a whole lot more after the event. 

Getting to the finish line before the 120 hour cutoff will be a big achievement, whether or not you opt for bike services and massages, you still have to pedal your bike all 1090 km's to the end. 

Make no mistake, this is still going to be one extremely difficult event to finish. Pushing an average of  218 km's per day through the heat of the Karoo to get to the next pampering station is still a big ask and there will be casualties. 

Is it the "Toughest race on Earth"? Probably not. But I can assure you that it is probably going to be the toughest race that any competitor in the starting line up for this years race has ever done.

Munga Equipment Choices - Part 3

I will be riding without a back pack. Reasons for that are covered in a previous post — "Riding in the heat". Stuff that normally resides in a back pack needs to be redistributed.

The rules state that each rider must have the ability to carry at least 1.5 litres of water. The suggestion from the race office is to carry 3 litres. That's 3 kg's. Weight weenies are going to need therapy. It's going to get hot and it's going to get windy. To set off into the wind to cover 70 km's to the next water point in the heat with just 2 bottles won't be clever. I rode in 37 degrees Celsius from Durban to Johannesburg 5 weeks ago. I was going through more than 1 litre of water an hour at one stage. 70 km's with a headwind wind could take at least 4 hours. Hydration is key. I have capacity for 2.2 litres on the bike can stuff additional bottles into the saddle pack or back pocket if required.

What else is in the saddle pack? Normal spares; inflator cartridges and inflator, tyre patch kit, inner tube, spare shifter cable, spare derailleur jockey wheel, a few quick links and short piece of chain, a small selection of bolts, a small bottle of tyre sealant. Duct tape and a few cable ties. The last are mandatory. Not race office mandatory. Life mandatory. As the saying goes, with duct tape and cable ties you can fix anything. My best fix over the last few years is a Hope freehub repair where I used cable ties to fabricate pawl springs. The repair held up for hundreds of kilometres.

Additional clothing layers; wind shell, leg warmers, long finger gloves and a base layer. Probably not necessary apart from the wind shell but if rain is forecast they might stay in the pack.

Basic medical supplies including rehydrating solution, strapping plaster and stretch bandage. Also have the race-office-mandatory space blanket.

The top tube bags take odds and ends like chain lube, sunblock, multi tool, snacks, water bottle fizzy tabs, chamois cream and my phone. All fairly lightweight.

Those are standard for most endurance riders and it's what I would normally carry in an unsupported endurance event.

But is it really "Unsupported". We will examine that in the next post — Is the Munga really the toughest race on Earth?

Munga Equipment Choices - Part 2

Lights. 

Apart from standard 29er MTB setup I am running a dynamo hub which will make me power independent. For those not familiar with dynamo hubs, they are a front wheel hub that has a built in dynamo. As you pedal it produces 6 volts of alternating current (AC) which you use to power an AC light or push through a AC to DC (Direct current) converter which allows you to plug in standard 5 volt DC USB powered devices. 

With this setup there is no need to change batteries or charge devices at the check points. The race organisers are apparently supplying power packs which can be swapped out for charged units at the checkpoints. Not sure why they are going for the soft option, especially since this is supposed to be a tough race and riders should be self sufficient. 

The supplied trackers will be battery operated so we just need to run lights, charge GPS units and keep our phones charged. 

For the technically curious my set up is as follows.

Supernova infinity S dynamo hub which runs a Supernova E3 light. 

I also run the power through a Busch & Müller USB Werk for USB power. 

The USB Werk has a small cache battery but it is insufficient to power a GPS or iPhone effectively, particularly if you can't maintain reasonable speed. I run the power into a bigger cache battery (standard power pack) which I then attach my devices. My power pack has the ability to charge at the same time as it powers devices so I leave it attached to the hub during the day. 

The E3 light runs directly off the dynohub and when you are going at a reasonable pace it is very bright — claimed 650 lumen. 

I can either run my light or charge my battery, but not both. That's where the second light comes into play. The Supernova Airstream is a USB chargeable Li-ion battery light. It can run for 2.5 to 7.5 hours depending on the brightness setting. It can also run at full power (205 lumen) permanently when connected to the hub via the USB Werk or power pack. Apart from being a spare light (I have seen lights fail) it allows me to switch off the E3 and power up my other devices at night should the need arise. 

Night time riding will be a big part of this race so I want to make sure I have all the bases covered. 

I also have a Hope Vision 1 Led headlight (215 lumen). Will need a headlight for fiddling with my packs or bike during the night and to look around as required. I have an extension on my headlight that allows me to put the power pack in a back pocket instead of having that weight on my helmet. 

On the rear I have fitted a standard battery powered red light. 

Munga Equipment Choices - Part 1

4 days out from the start of The Munga I have prepped my bike and loaded a selection of kit for the race. As it stands, I am probably 4kg's the wrong side of "this weight might work." I am working with imperfect weather forecast data that sees temperatures ranging from 15 to 38 degrees Celsius. 

First up, the bike. The Munga is primarily a gravel road race, hence Tim's choice of a gravel bike — the yellow one below. 

I have opted for my 2 x 10 Lynskey hard tail with a front suspension fork. Simple choice actually — it's what I have. Suspension fork is critical for me as I have to look after my hands. Last year Sean Badenhorst asked me what part of the body takes the most punishment during an endurance event. I think my reply surprised him — hands! It turned out to be prophetic as a few months later I was off my bike for 3 months nursing a severe case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome brought about by riding the 600 km's between Rhodes and Cradock twice in the space of a few weeks. Sean himself felt discomfort in his hands during the ABSA Cape Epic earlier this year and had his grips doctored to make his hands more comfortable. 

Don't want issues with my hands again. Apart from having a suspension fork (which I run very soft) I have added Ergon Grips which distribute the pressure on my palms over a wider area. I have no issues with my hands since switching to these grips. 

However, the route is likely to see us grinding out many kilometres of rough gravel roads and I imagine it will take a toll on hands. With that in mind, I fitted Tri Bars. I made a few mods which  I covered in a prior post. I didn't mention that I installed the forearm pads backwards. Initially it was a mistake but when I corrected the mistake they were incredibly uncomfortable so I put them back the wrong way and they fit comfortably. I initially installed the Tri Bars to give me options to rest my hands. After riding in a strong wind today I could feel the benefit of hunkering down into the wind. The early forecasts suggest we will be facing significant head winds on the race, so that's an added bonus. 

Using the bars doesn't come without a few challenges. Firstly, body conditioning. Mostly lower back and neck. I have spent many hours over the last week getting used to the setup. Unfortunately, there is a bit of a compromise with my saddle position. If I leave my saddle in its normal position, when dropping onto the bars the front of the saddle digs into parts best left unabused. So I dropped the nose a tad. Now when I sit up the saddle is sloped a little too forward which results in me leaning on the grips. I guess I could have found a more suitable saddle, but it's not a good idea to mess with your perch a few days before a big race. Right now it's a compromise. Can always adjust the saddle to suit once the race in underway.  

To be continued ...

How to Tackle The Munga

The numbers.

CP1 219 (219) 1099m WP's 70, 140

CP2 395 (176) 591m WP's 277, 337

CP3 585 (190) 886m WP's 457, 522

CP4 801 (216) 1306m WP's 657, 728

CP5 1020 (219) 1963m WP's 873, 947

END 1090 (70) 630m WP 1060


1090 km's is a long way and it will take a long time to ride it. I imagine the average speed during large parts of the ride will be 20 km/h or more for some riders. The winning time will probably be somewhere between 55 and 60 hours. That includes time off the bike. Remember, this is a single stage race; once the clock starts it only stops when you cross the finish line.

Support stations are spread far apart, pretty much dotted either side of 200 km's. The distance between water points is something like 60 to 70 km's. For some races 60 to 70 km's is the length of a day's stage and there will be a number of hydration stations positioned along the way.

The race starts at midday and the first stage is 219 km's long. A huge days ride. The front riders are going to take almost 9 hours to get there. That's 9pm. The back markers will be crawling in after midnight. What happens then? The next support station is 176 km's up the road. Do you stuff food down your throat and hop back on your bike or do you catch some shut eye? Imagine yourself 12 hours into a race, the first 6 hours done in blistering heat, eyeing a soft warm comfortable bed with one eye and trying not to look out the door into the darkness beyond with the other. What do you do? Shower and bed or back on the bike to face a 8 to 10 hour trek to the next chance of food and a bed? All of a sudden the bed looks rather inviting. After all a few hours sleep will regenerate you and help you cross the landscape a little faster so it is probably the obvious choice. Or is it?

Apart from a few racing snakes most riders will spend similar times on their bikes. The differentiator is how much time is spent off the bike — How much time spent at water points, check points, pampering (bike and body), and sleep.

Then you need to consider fatigue and the effects of riding tired. Perhaps a few hours sleep will result in increased speed and better mental facility allowing a rider to make up for the time spent regenerating.

At the end of the day I think it comes down to the individual and how they function best. Fatigue and lack of sleep does slow one down. But by how much? If fatigue sucks 5 km/h out of your moving speed, how long will it take to make that up if you stop and sleep for 4 hours. Let's imagine a rider averages 20 km/h when adequately rested and only 15 km/h when fatigued. Riders A + B arrive at a checkpoint together. Rider A pushes through at 15 km/h and Rider B gets 4 hours rest. When B gets going, A is 60 km's ahead. In the 3 hours it takes B to cover the 60 km's at 20 km/h, rider A is still 45 km's ahead. The 4 hour rest translates into 12 hours to catch the rider who didn't stop. That's a long time! And 5 km's faster per hour is a lot faster. The rider who can keep at it the longest without slowing to a crawl might have a serious advantage.

It is going to be interesting to see the different strategies in play. I suspect strategies may well change as the reality of the distances and conditions become evident.

Equipment modifications for Munga

Bike needed a few mods.
As some of you know I got awful carpal tunnel syndrome after the Race to Cradock last year that kept me off my bike for 3 months. Don't want a repeat of that.

So I have added Tri Bars to give my hands more options. First problem. The forearm pads are far too low. Apart from being a strain on my neck and lower back it is going to wreak havoc with my man plumbing. Leaning forward like that for any time is going to make it impossible for me to void my bladder without screaming. I don't want to change my saddle every time I switch between options.

So I hatched a plan and made some spacers that raise the pads up 25mm. What a difference. A lot more comfortable with an added bonus. The pads in the standard setup were at the wrong angle and the one edge dug into my forearm. Now with them raised slightly they are perfectly angled.

Next problem was positioning of my lights. The Tri Bars are in the way and I can't use the lights sideways or upside down as the light beam is shaped for optimum illumination. Obvious solution was to fit the lights between the Tri Bar horns. I found a set of bars ends and modified one which I fitted between the horns. Once sized and tightened it is the perfect light perch.

Will test these mods out this weekend and make sure they work as expected.

Munga nutritional requirements

My race nutrition is not something I think anyone should try emulate. I am guessing that I will be in the minority of one who adopt a no-supplement approach. Apart from the fizzy tabs I add to my water I will make do with whatever is dished up en route. However, there are aspects worth noting.
In the past I have done the whole pre-ride drink, on the bike specific juice mix followed by a recovery shake. Energy bars and gels have been strategically stashed to be available as required. As I, and many others, have discovered, it gets boring very quickly. These days I have few requirements apart from normal food and tea at support stations and plain water (with fizzy tabs) and a padkos style grub to take along on the road. On the Durban Dash I stashed some Race Food nougat and never had a single one. Energy gels got the boot early on in my adventures. The short term benefits (which I never felt) weren't worth the sugar crash that followed.
My recent switch to low carb living had thrown the cat among the pigeons as far as my palate is concerned. Sweet things and me don't mix. I find savoury non-carb snacks more to my liking.
Going into The Munga I have no dietary requirements or preferences. Stick a plate of food in front of me and I will eat it. It's uncomplicated and stress free. It's one less thing to worry about.

Is it a recipe for success? I guess we will find out one way or the other.

Staying hydrated while riding.

How much should you drink while exercising? This is an interesting topic and one that is poorly understood. There is an abundance of poor advise and quackery being dispensed by so-called experts.

Try Googling "How much water should I drink every day". Results are laughable. I found a range from 1.5 - 4 litres per day and the old favourite "drink 8 glasses of water a day". That's for sedentary activity. Now Google "how much should I drink while exercising". Lots of well intentioned is not misguided advice. "Drink 500 ml an hour before exercise and 750 ml an hour while exercising", "Monitor the colour of your urine and adjust your water intake until it is clear or light yellow", "you should weigh the same at the end of a workout as when you started", "Once you are thirsty you are already dehydrated", blah, blah, blah.
I have been to spin classes where halfway through a class they go around and offer fill up people's bottles so they don't succumb to the dangers of dehydration. It's laughable. I can promise you, medical issues aside, a 45 minutes spinning class will not cause you to die of dehydration.

I will let you into a little secret, while riding an endurance event like The Munga you are going to get dehydrated, your urine is going to get straw brown in colour, you are going to feel thirsty and you are likely to lose 2 or 3 kg's of body weight due to dehydration between check points and water stations. That's just what happens. You need to deal with it!

So how do we deal with it? What follows is my advise based on my experience over many years. It works for me.

Get used to the feeling of being thirsty. Too many people latch onto the concept that feeling thirsty means it's too late to counter dehydration so they drink too much too soon and spend the better part of the day worrying about their lack of hydration and hunting down water supplies. The mental aspect of surviving endurance events is as important, if not more so, than physical capability. Your mind can be your best tool or your worst enemy. Mental toughness cannot be overrated. If you allow the feeling of thirst to be an issue you are messing with the one thing that is going to get you through, your head space.

I know I am going to feel thirsty and there might be times when it tastes like I have battery acid in my mouth but I also know through experience that I can survive that condition for an extended period without adverse effect. I regularly train without water as it helps my body adapt to a state of mild dehydration. The body is a fascinating machine and can adapt to a wide range of conditions. But that adaption takes time. If you want to know more about dehydration training go read this article - http://www.runnersworld.com/hydration-dehydration/tactical-dehydration-increases-speed

Apart from improvements in athletic performance I am used to the feeling of being thirsty and a dry mouth isn't going to send me into a panicked state where I waste energy fixating on where I can get water. That is not to say I am cavalier about my state of hydration. Far from it. While a dehydrating training ride has its benefits it leaves you with a hydration deficit. You cannot race like that. When racing, I start hydrating before I get on the bike and I continue to take small amounts often as I ride. Because I am in a hydration adapted state I sweat less but more importantly it seems my body is stingy about releasing too much sodium. Lower rates of sweat means I can generally keep pace with my hydration losses and I am less likely to suffer from hyponatremia - low blood sodium. The biggest cause of hyponatremia in athletes is consuming too much fluids during events. So get used to feeling a little thirsty, it's less likely to kill you.

As stated in the previous blog I make a point of adding replacement supplements to my bottles.

When I get to a checkpoint the first and last things I do is get something to drink, and lots of it. I don't care for the opinion that tea and coffee don't count and you should stick to water or sports drinks. H2O is H2O and if the form of it makes me happy it is both hydrating me and pampering my all important head space. A good 2 for 1 deal.

It is unlikely that you can over hydrate on The Munga but it makes a lot of sense to adapt your body ahead of time to be able to make do with a lot less hydration. Water points are well spaced and you don't want to be found wanting. Neither do you want to carry 10 litres of water.

Riding in the heat.

As a rule, people don't like riding when it's hot. As a rule, people just don't like it when it's hot, period.
But what is hot? The other day I was queueing in the hardware store and the person in front of me was rather animated in fanning them self with a piece of cardboard in which there intended purchase was sealed. It was obvious to me that they thought it was a sweltering day. I remember this incident because to me it felt just dandy. Not cold and not particularly hot.

Hot and cold are relative. One mans hot is another mans normal. It's to do with conditioning. Gautenger's are unified in declaring Durban unbearably hot in Dec/Jan. People who reside in Durban generally agree that it is hot that time of year but certainly not unbearable. They are adapted to the heat and humidity.

I have become cold tolerant over the last 8 years primarily because my focus has been on riding winter events. The Munga is going to be particularly challenging for me. The Durban Dash at the end of September brought my heat intolerance into sharp focus. When the Mercury crept up to 37 Celsius I felt rather bleak. But I wasn't beaten by it. I had factored the heat into my planning. Firstly, I did away with a backpack. Backpacks are wonderful for winter events. They keep your back warm, reduce the amount of heat lost and make a great backrest when you need a roadside power nap. In summer I figure they are a liability. Extreme heat is hard to cater for. Dealing with the cold is as simple as adding another layer. Okay, not quiet that simple, but thoughtful layering and smart purchases make cold bearable. Extreme heat is challenging. Once you are down to the basics you can't strip off any more in order to cool off. But you can maximise the surface area that can dissipate heat. First to go is the back pack. It covers a big chunk of sweatable area. Besides, do you really want a river of sweat making its way to your chamois?

Sweat is fine. Not only is it fine, it's desirable. Sweating is the body's way of regulating heat. If it's hot and you can't sweat, you overheat, fall off your bike and die. So you need to embrace sweating. Sweat on your riding top evaporates and cools. Sweat in your chamois is just flipping annoying and has no cooling effect.

Another overlooked aspect is sunblock. This subject is as controversial as it gets - does it or doesn't it impede your body's ability to thermoregulate? It's good advise to use sunblock when you get into the sun. However, make a smart choice. If you use a sunblock that makes the sweat drip off you like a leaking tap look around for another type or brand. Sweat works to cool you down when it evaporates off your skin or close contact clothing. When it is dripping off the end of your nose or chin it has lost its effectiveness. Some sunblocks are more greasy than others and it appears that they may prevent the sweat from keeping contact with and evaporating off the skin, instead it gathers as drops and runs off. You want to sweat but don't want to leak out.
Besides, it's not just water you are losing. Apart from water, sweat contains sodium, potassium, magnesium, calcium and a host of trace elements. These need to be replaced. If you rush out and do a one day race of a few hours and sweat like a pig you might cramp a bit and feel a bit bleak but that's about the end of it. Try that for 20 hours a day for a few days on the trot and feeling bleak is going to be the least of your problems. I add fizzy tabs containing minerals and trace elements to every bottle. They are easy to carry and simple to use. I also carry sachets of rehidrat that I use at support stations to ensure I get more into my system. If you develop any dysfunction with your bodies ability to thermoregulate through sweating you are in trouble. Hydrate properly, sweat properly and replace lots minerals and elements.

Cooling the body down as opportunities arise is not a bad idea. A dip in a reservoir can do wonders in controlling your temperature as can wetting your buff or clothing. I make a point of pouring water over myself as and when I can.

Making sure you drink enough is also a challenge. Drinking too much is as bad, if not worse, than drinking too little. How much is enough? We can examine that in the next post...



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Munga Ahoy!

What is The Munga?
Don't wish to bore you so go to the website www.themunga.com and read all about it. Alex Harris, visionary and race founder eloquently describes the race and the related challenges. If you are too lazy to read through all that I summarise; Stupid race (1000+km unsupported non-stop) at a stupid time (mid summer) through stupid terrain (the Karoo which is a desert) which will appeal to stupid people (like me).

There are two maxim's I refer to often in the running of my business.
The first is "Disappoint your customer as soon as possible."
The second, "If something is worth doing, it's worth doing badly."
Both run counter to popular business culture. But If you take a few minutes to ponder the deeper meaning of both will see that they are in fact quite pithy.

However, as I turn to final preparation for The Munga, I am not about to embrace the inherent wisdom of the second maxim. Rather than arrive at the start line with an attitude of 'get on with it and sort out the challenges as they surface' I intend to draw on 8 years of ultra endurance cycling experience to make sure I have the best possible chance of getting from A-Z with the least amount of drama.

I have a good number of multi-day stage races, such as Epic and JoBerg2c under my belt as do a number of other competitors but I know that races of that nature do not prepare you for something like The Munga. It is a bit like comparing table tennis with lawn tennis. There's a net, a ball and something to hit the ball with, but the skills are not portable except that you have demonstrated good hand-eye coordination which is an essential skill for both. So you have done an Epic. You have shown that you can ride a bike, and you think you know what it means to suffer. In reality, you've merely got the basic skills. You have arrived at the start of the endurance game. Welcome. Place your token on the start square and roll the dice...

What will The Munga be like? Similar to Freedom Challenge and Tour Divide I would think. I haven't done Tour Divide so
my Freedom Challenge experiences inform my choice of strategy and equipment. With a big BUT. Freedom events take place in the cooler months. Munga is middle of summer through the middle of a desert. I always suffer on day one out of Pietermaritzburg when the temperatures in the Umkomaas valley soar to 30 Celsius. Okay, it is the middle of winter so 30 feels hot. Recently I rode the Durban Dash from Durban to Johannesburg. It was unbearably hot - mid to upper 30's. I won't lie, the heat was horrible. At the end I questioned whether The Munga was a good idea bearing in mind that the temperatures through the Karoo in December are likely to be in the early to mid 40's.

Next up I will discuss the challenges of riding in the heat...

LCHF and endurance riding - Part 3

LCHF adaption can play a huge part in endurance performance. By reducing carb intake you reduce the insulin loading and allow the cells to better absorb and metabolise fat. But this takes time. It's not an overnight switch. It can take weeks or months. Once you are adapted, a byproduct of all the extra fat metabolisation is the production of excess ketones which the brain is happy to feed on.
It stands to reason that if you are able to metabolise fat and produce ketones you don't have a deadlock where the two key components of performance, namely, muscles and your mind, are competing for the same resource.
In practice, since adapting the LCHF lifestyle, I have had instances where I have maxed out physically due to poor training but have never had the mental collapse normally associated with bonking.
In multi-day endurance events it is unlikely that you function in an elevated heart rate zone for an appreciable time. It general you have short bursts of elevated heart rate effort.
My question, to which I have no answer to as yet, is as follows: once you are several days into an endurance race how is your exertion in terms of HR zones defined. Are the zone HR rates remain at the rested state zones or does it shift down as your condition declines and your heart rate follows?
I must point out that hearts don't get tired in the sense that your heart rate drops because that organ get exhausted from the exercise. Sure, the heart is a muscle and does get stronger with exercise. As a conditioned athlete athlete your heart rate is defined by the oxygen demands of the body. If you recruit significant muscle mass you need more oxygen and your heart responds by delivering more oxygenated blood to meet the demand. That being the case, it follows that your HR Max is particular to an activity. Swimming, running, cycling and cross-country skiing will yield very different results.

We will assume that our endurance efforts take place in a lowered heart rate effort which facilitates aerobic metabolism. That being the case you are well within the fat burning exertion zone so should have sufficient fuel in the form of fat to supply your energy needs.
A quick word about carbohydrate and fat reserves. The tried and tested method of carbo-loading before a big event will store away only 5k calories of race fuel reserve. Probably enough for a 5 or 6 hour ride. Our body fat stores in excess of 80k. And that's a super lean athlete. I probably have twice that tucked away.

Yesterday I completed a 38 hour non-stop bike race and burned something in the order of 22k calories. If I wasn't fat adapted I would have run out of steam very quickly. I would need to keep fuelling on carbs to keep pace with the rate of burn. As it was, I hardly ate anything and finished the race firing on all cylinders. As a rough estimate I would think I ate food somewhere in the region of 6-8k of calories. Huge deficit if not fat adapted.

So, the bottom line — what do I eat while racing in multi day endurance events. The short answer is "anything". I used to like a mixture of Coke and water in my bottles. Off the bike I never drink Coke. On the bike I used to like it. When I started the most recent race 2 days ago I put Coke and water in my bottles and I didn't enjoy it like I used to. I eventually switched to just water. I added the occasional sachet of electrolytes or use the effervescent tablets that do the same thing. But I got sick of that taste and made a point of drinking that separately and keeping plain water in my bottles. I used to eat gelatine based soft chews; jelly babies and wine gums. I managed to get through just one roll of wine gums. I took snack bars and a handful of nougat based race snack bars and didn't use any of them. I seems I have gone off sweet things completely.
I just want normal food. I had a hamburger and didn't eat the bun. Not my cup of tea it seems.
Does it work? I won the race. That's sufficient evidence.

Given the nature of the races I do it is an impediment if you are on a strict diet. I eat whatever I can get my hands on but choose LCHF options if they are available.
To be fair, I haven't done any events in excess of four days since switching to LCHF so have no experience of what the effects are of dropping out of a fat adapted state due to an increase in carb input. My experience in events up to 4 days is that my metabolism doesn't appear to change in any noticeable way.
To wrap this up let's look at the incident of 2010 where I bonked an hour into day 2 of an event and compare it to the race I did in June this year without training for.
In 2010 I wasn't on LCHF and did the normal carbo-load thing. Clearly it didn't work. I was trashed and my mind went tilt. In June this year after a 3 month layoff due to injury I was a last minute entry in a 500km race. 8 hours in my lack of condition was evident. But my mind was as sharp as a pin. I knew exactly what the challenges were and managed to deal with the issues and went on to win the race. That I think is a big difference. If you can keep your head space intact you can deal with the issues. By being fat adapted I think bonking is a thing of the past. I can't make that statement with absolute surety but can say I haven't bonked since switching to LCHF.

LCHF and endurance riding - Part 2

Hitting the wall (a term used in running parlance) or bonking (cycling terminology) describes a condition where the body runs short of stored glycogen resulting in extreme physical fatigue often accompanied by reduced mental facility. The mental impairment ranges from wanting to give up to symptoms consistent with hypoglycaemia (low blood glucose) such as confusion and hallucinations.
I have experienced this condition on three occasions. Once while running and twice on my bike. The bike incident in 2010 was the interesting one because it came an hour into my second day of an event. I wasn't riding particularly hard but I was tired. I wasn't in race condition and as it was a social ride I planned to take each day slowly. At the end of day one (a 12 hour effort) I was shattered and my exhaustion made eating a schlep. I only managed a small helping of dinner and had an equally small portion for breakfast. The result was that I didn't build up my glycogen reserves and an hour into the second day I bonked. I sat next to the trail staring at my bike convinced there was something wrong with it. I didn't want to talk to anyone else. I was simply miserable. Having experienced the condition previously I knew what needed doing and started stuffing food down my throat. Particularly food high in sugar. I continued dribbling down the trail and after 2 hours the lights came back on and I was able to continue normally.

So what does this incident have to do with LCHF? A lot actually. Pin this incident to your mind as we are going to use it a bit later in this discussion. We will label it 'The incident of 2010'.

A few words about muscle fuelling. Again, I am no expert. We store glycogen in our muscles and liver. If we engage in high energy activities with a heart rate in excess of 65% of our heart rate reserve (HRR, the usable heart rate between resting and max) we drawn heavily on these reserves and they begin to deplete. Glucose is then drawn from the blood to replenish these reserves, which, it not supplemented by refuelling with carbs, will lead to low blood sugar and bonking as your brain and your muscles start wrestling for the dwindling reserves.

As I understand it, our muscles are capable of being fuelled by glucose, fatty acids and ketones. Ketones, as stated earlier are produced when we metabolise fat. The brain can use either glucose or ketones as a fuel. It is suggested that ketones are the brain's fuel of choice.
Excessive use of carbohydrates leads to massive doses of insulin being released into our system. Is is claimed that insulin has the effect of reducing our cells ability to fuel off fatty acids or ketones making them dependant on glucose.
Endurance endeavours generally take place at lower levels of exertion and are better suited to fat metabolisation. Thats fine if your body hasn't been hammered by carbs which results in a reduced ability to process fat instead of glucose.
This explanation is simplistic but Is the gist of it.
Next up, LCHF adaption....

LCHF and endurance riding - Part 1

I have been asked to elaborate on my experience with LCHF and endurance riding.

From the outset let me be clear. I am not an expert in nutrition or the science of sports performance. In many ways my methods are laughable, but they work for me.

My endurance successes are moderate. Sure, I have won a race and placed second and third in my last 3 non-stop 500-600km events. But these are small races in that they are not run of the mill and attract a niche crowd. Crowd is an exaggeration. A handful or two would be more correct — Let's settle for 50. In the longer 2200km format my best finish was 5th. However, in my last 2200km event I had not yet switched to a LCHF lifestyle. My best race results have been over the last 2 years after I switched to LCHF. I have focused on the 500-600 km events of late.

What follows is the experiences of a layperson. They are my experiences — not hearsay, not secondhand.

My best result, as far as physical performance is concerned was Race to Rhodes 2014; I placed third - funny story. In 2015 I won the event even though I rode it 17 hours slower - equally funny story. These two races are significant in my understanding of how I have adapted to a LCHF diet under race conditions. We will examine this in more detail later.

To understand the effects of LCHF on race performance we need to understand the base diet and degree of dietary adaption of the athlete. The switch to LCHF begins many months or years before any race event. It entails a change of lifestyle. I am not hyper-strict. I don't weight my food and I don't read all the labels. To keep it simple we eradicated a few things from our household diet — Sugar (or anything containing vast amounts such as soft drinks, drinking chocolate, cake, etc.), Bread, Pasta, Rice, Cereals and Potatoes — basically all the carbohydrate bombs. We then switched to full fat milk and stopped shying away from cheese and animal fats. Margarine was shunned and was replaced with butter.
We aren't big on compensating for low carbs by ratcheting up our fat intake, we just don't avoid fat. We select full cream yoghurt and enjoy chicken skin and the fat on joints of meat. It's important to note that the eating plan is low-carb and not no-carb.
Before I started on LCHF I had slightly elevated cholesterol. But that was in the combined LDL+HDL. My HDL has always been well above my LDL reading which is considered good. Over the last year my cholesterol levels have dropped nearly 10%. Sure, that isn't everyone's experience but it is mine. Tests were done clinically and not at the local pharmacy.

My weight over the last 2 years has dropped by 14kg's. Nothing dramatic, just a slow steady decrease. At the start I was probably 10kg's above a reasonable weight due to a riding injury that kept me off my bike for a year. The last 4 kg's are as a result of an increased training regime without a commensurate increase in food intake.

The first noticeable difference is that I am never hungry. Eating becomes a function rather than a craving. I have to remember to eat. I believe the lack of hunger is as a result in stable blood sugar levels. By controlling sugar spikes you avoid excessive release of insulin which in turn causes sugar levels to drop which I am told trigger feelings of hunger. As a test, a friend and I rode in a fasted state (no breakfast, just a glass of water) for 3 hours and then tested our blood sugar levels. Our findings showed that although we had ridden hard for 3 hours our blood sugar levels reflect completely normal levels. Our conclusion was that we were not fueled by sugar but rather by ketones released by metabolising fat in the absence of carbs. We reasoned that had we been using carbs as fuel our sugar levels would have been lowered due to the extended period of sustained exercise without a replenishing supply.

What does all this have to do with performance while competing in endurance events? A lot actually. We will get into that in the next update.

Race finish

I arrived at Rubicon, the official finish of the Race to Rhodes, with Gawie and Andrew at 14:50. The ride from Tenahead had taken just over 90 minutes. Andrew stayed for a short while and then pushed on to Chesneywold. Tim had yet to arrive and Gawie had started a day ahead of me so was a day slower completing the race. The previous best riders to Rhodes had covered the distance in 4 days and something like 7 or 8 hours. My time of 3 days 8 hours 50 minutes although 17 hours slower than the previous year was good enough to secure the win. 

Having arrived at the start line hopelessly prepared with little to no training I had managed to win my first Freedom Challenge event. It hadn't been easy and I will definitely be back to race it again but never again without adequate training. 

Janine finished less than 2 hours behind me having dug deep to prevail in spite of the severe pain she was in. To my shame I was in the bath when she finished and was not there to greet her when she came in. I am not proud of that. We had ridden together for 3 days and I missed the opportunity to celebrate her success. She had finished faster than I though she would have. She is one tough lady and rode hard on that last day in incredible pain to get to the finish. Incidentally, she also finished well ahead of Tim's arrival in Rhodes.  

Last word. On the trip home Janine thanked me. I commented that she had nothing to thank me for as she was often much stronger than me and knew exactly where she was going. She didn't need my help in any way. Her reply is one I did not expect. She said that she was in incredible pain in Vuvu and wasn't sure if she could get to Rhodes. Then she thought back to Allendale on day one of the race. She said "When I saw you stand up at Allendale, completely shattered and say to me, 'come lets go' I realised that we are so much stronger than we think we are. I decided that even if I had to crawl I was going to get to Rhodes. Thank you for that." 

Over Lehana to Rhodes

Sitting in the school at Vuvu I realised that I was still in the company of the RASA race leaders in Andrew and Tim. If I wanted to win the Race to Rhodes I would have to either beat them or arrive at the finish line with them. One look at Tim and I knew I had the beating of him. Andrew was riding strong but I had finally found my legs. 

I didn't know at that stage that for the first time the Race to Rhodes (R2R) was considered a separate event to the Race Across South Africa (RASA). Last year I had ridden to Rhode in 2 days 16 hours and finished third because I was beaten to Rhodes by Graham Bird and a friend of his who is also a member of his adventure racing team. They were an hour or two quicker than me but were doing RASA. I have always argued that line honours to Rhodes should be opened to both R2R and RASA entrants as in theory it's much harder for a RASA rider as they can't give the effort to Rhodes everything as they need to ride on.  

The four of us left Vuvu ahead of Tim and I was determined to keep ahead of Tim. It's quite satisfying to beat Tim, only because he is an amazing rider. As it was, he went on to win RASA this year. His third win in the event. Beating him to Rhodes became my objective whether or not I could keep up with Andrew. 

The road heading down to the start of the Lehana portage has a number of challenging climbs. Janine who is normally a very strong climber struggled. She was lagging behind. Her legs were destroyed and yet she kept pushing ahead. Normally quiet she had become even more so. I dropped back on one particularly steep section and asked her what I could do to help her. I asked if she wanted encouragement or sympathy, for me to ride next to behind or in front of her? What was it I could do to help? She replied with "I'm fine!" 

I concluded that she had dropped into survival mode and was best left to get on with it herself without being pestered. 

I looked back down the road and Tim was nowhere to be seen. I pushed ahead to catch up with Gawie and Andrew. As we got to the start of the Lehana portage we could see other riders ahead of us making their way up the mountain. Within 30 minutes we had caught and overtaken them. Looking back I could see Janine someway back but she was catching the riders behind. She would be fine I thought. There were enough riders on the mountain should she need help. 

About halfway up the portage I rounded a rocky section and bumped into Andy Wonnacott who I had last seen in 2007 when we both did our first RASA. We fell into step and chatted as if we had last seen each other a month before. It was surreal. 

He eventually stopped as he needed to wait for the rest of his group. I was left with Andrew Barnes. Gawie had gone on ahead and we could see him contouring around the mountain a few hundred metres ahead. 

I suggested to Andrew that we take the tiger line up the steep face of the mountain instead of the path that contours around. I figured it would save us twenty minutes - I still had an eye out for Tim. What I didn't know at the time is that he had opted for the alternate route around Mcambalala which takes a lot longer. Andrew was game for the tiger line and the two of us crawled up the mountain face. 

As we got higher we had to pick our way around the snow patches that lay on the upper slopes. It was pristine white. I stopped a number of times and popped some in mouth. It was cold but refreshing. Although snow lay on the ground I was wearing only a short sleeve riding shirt and the zip was down. I was working hard, the engine was warm and I was having fun. Summiting we emptied out onto a snow covered plateau. The road that winds up to the container which was way off to our left was mostly clear of snow and we got on to the road and headed toward Tenahead Lodge. I hit the first snow bank at speed and instead of riding over it my front wheel dug into the soft snow and I ended up sprawled in the snow. I had a soft landing so no harm was done and Andrew got in a good chuckle. We treated the the rest of the snow banks with more respect. 

Rounding the last corner before the lodge we saw Gawie waving at us from the deck. He had arranged coffee and toasted sandwiches for us and we wasted no time heading in to the lodge. I wasn't keen to spent too much time there because I still had Tim in mind. Our tiger line over Lehana gave me some comfort as I was sure Tim wouldn't have been able to replicate our effort as all his lot was on his bike with made it difficult if not impossible to carry on his shoulders. The coffee was good, the toasties even better and we only left the lodge after 30 minutes. 

Gawie and Andrew were quick and I worked hard to stay in touch. The first big climb saw them put a big gap into me. Both are very relaxed individuals and they waited for me at the top. As we started the last descent off the mountains Gawie took off. He has amazing bike skills. He was riding a single speed hard tail with a rigid fork and gave us a lesson on how to descend at speed. Andrew and I rode together and made good time into Rhodes where we found Gawie waiting for us. Together we rode to the finish (for Gawie and I) at Rubicon. 

Tinana to Vuvu

We planned to get to the start of the Vuvu valley as the sky started to lighten. That way we would be riding into daylight which would aid our navigation. Janine started the day with pain killers to dull the pain in her shins. 

We left Mrs Kibi's house at 04:15 and opted for the longer but simpler route on the road rather that trying to thread out way through the donga littered plain that lay between us and the scratchy bit across to the river crossing and on to the district road beyond. 

We decided to take the lower line which meant we had to stay high against the cliffs on our right to avoid the monster dongas that littered the land below the cliffs. The sides of these dongas so steep that without ropes they are impossible to traverse. It was still dark and we couldn't see them and simply followed tracks. As the tracks split we chose to keep right. Once or twice we abandoned those choices as they petered out and dropped left to pick up the other track. It was cold and the frost sparkled under our lights. We knew that just after a kilometre we could drift left as we would have passed the last of the impassible dongas. Judging distance at night is tricky. We overcooked the distance and took a minute to orientate ourselves. In the hesitation the group split but we came together quickly and made good progress onto the road. Although cold it wasn't uncomfortable and there was no wind. Progress toward Satabataba on the district road was fast and we had another moment of hesitation at the turnoff as it came up quicker that expected. Satisfied we had the right turn we headed up to Setabataba where we would find the jeep track that would lead us to the start of the Vuvu valley. 

Rounding the last corner of the new district road we were confronted with a massive void. The road ended abruptly with a deep dark hole. To say we were a tad perplexed is an understatement, we were completely nonplussed. Last year it was a gorgeous new road. Now it was washed away. The chasm was so wide we couldn't see the other side with our torches. That's when doubt started creeping in. Had we taken the right turn at the district road? I assured everyone that we had. Should we have taken the previous turnoff a kilometre back? Gawie assured everyone that we were on the right track as he recognised a house we had just passed. In daylight it would have been a few seconds delay. In the dark we wasted a few minutes. I rode back and found a route into the chasm. It actually wasn't they deep, 3 or 4 metres, but it was rather wide. Riding out the other side I found the continuance of the road, in perfect order. A huge rain storm had obviously washed the road away. 

We found the jeep track without difficulty and entered the Vuvu valley just as we were able to make out the outline of the mountains surrounding us. Our timing was perfect. It took us only 2 hours to thread our way through the valley. Janine was struggling with the pace especially the portage sections. Climbing up the final cliff face to the Vuvu plateau I waited for Janine to catch up. In spite of her obvious discomfort she wasn't that far behind. 

As I approached the school where the support station is located I heard someone call my name. Looking back I saw Tim exiting a hut and he looked very second hand. He had left Tinana about 12 hours before us and we had caught him in 4. Obviously his night escapade hadn't ended too well. At 8:30 we entered the school where Andrew and Gawie were busy with breakfast. Tim joined us a few minutes later. We had done okay. Another 6 hours should see is in Rhodes and our race complete. We ate up quickly and prepared to take on Lehana's Pass. 

Tinana

We arrived at Mrs Kibi's house in Tinana at 16:40 with daylight to spare. Tim had pushed through to take on the Vuvu valley in the dark. The valley isn't that hard in daylight but the prospect of traipsing through there at night under a moonless sky didn't appeal to us one bit. It seemed Andrew and Gawie were in accord as we found them well settled in Mrs Kibi's house. By the time we arrived Andrew had hunted down a spaza shop and proudly displayed the spoils of his sortie - two cans of sardines, one 2 litre Coke and two quarts of beer; milk stout and a larger.

The pair of them had started on the beer and Andrew had successfully ripped the lid off one of the sardine cans and was busy sampling the contents. The luxury of arriving at an overnight stop in daylight had us all in jovial spirit.

Mrs Kibi was out of town..... Hmmm.. Out of village....that doesn't sound right....She was away! We were attended to by an older woman who, in spite of the language barrier, busied herself quietly arranging drinking glasses and tea. She then went outside and started heating water over an open fire so we could wash. She pretty much hovered around in the background. Then something fascinating happened. Andrew started speaking to her in her own language. Right in front of my eyes she inflated. She went from a shadow to a full blown personality. It made me think of the English we hear practiced on us as we ride through the Transkei. The perennial favourites being; "Good morning." "How are you?" and "I love you". The first being rolled out at all hours of the day. We smile at their attempts, but how much isiZulu or isiXhosa do I know? None, they at least knew three sentences.
The effects of not being able to communicate and the resultant opinion formed about people we cannot speak to is unfortunate. This lady in Mrs Kibi's house was just someone doing mundane things in the background. The moment she found her voice in the comfort of her own language she was someone else completely - in my eyes. And I lay the blame squarely on myself. As a first and only language English speaker I have fallen foul of the trap that makes us feel smarter than people who don't speak our language. That is a very sad state of affairs. My ability to speak English is an accident of birth. My inability or unwillingness to learn another language, particular in a country with a diversity of languages, is a poor reflection on me.

This lady, now comforted by the fact that she could be understood, told us (via Andrew) about the bathing arrangements and when dinner would be ready. Washing is an awkward affair if you are not used to it. You are generally presented with 3 shallows buckets. One to wash in, another with boiling water and a third with cold water. You mix the water to your liking and have a strip wash. It makes one almighty mess, but this is apparently okay. Still makes me feel uncomfortable as water is slopped all over the floor. Clearly I have yet to master the technique of the bucket wash.

Spruced up we gathered in the lounge and ate a hearty dinner. I was ravenous for the first time in the race and I knew it was a good thing. After dinner we sat around talking. All in all we spent a good few hours hanging around chewing the fat with each other. Bed time arrived. I was still coughing badly and chose an inside room to spare the others who bunked in an outside room.

By bed time we became aware of Tim's antics in the Vuvu valley. He was going the wrong way. For that matter, it appeared that everyone still in the Vuvu valley was going in the wrong direction. I heard later that Glenn, the race director, was concerned. The only logical explanation he could come up with was that there was a fire in the valley and the riders were trying to avoid it. Why else would they have scattered like shrapnel. He even sent Tim a message asking about it. As there is no cell reception in the valley Tim didn't receive it immediately. Hours later when he had scrambled up the side of a mountain (way off course) he received the message. His reply to Glenn was something like 'I wish!'

So, with at least a half dozen riders wandering around lost in the cold Vuvu valley I lay in my bed, pulled the thick warm blankets up around my face and settled into blissful sleep.

Black Fountain - Part 2

The route to Blackfountain from the previous village consists of a slow ride up drag paths and cattle trails. It is a little tedious and takes just under an hour. Along the way we passed a herd of cattle. I rode on ahead and waited for Janine. The herd numbered around 50-60. They were being driven by a single man and his two dogs. The dogs in that part, particularly around Black Fountain which is used for grazing cattle, are not your average skraal mongrel. They are beautiful dogs that look like the average pampered family dog you would find in the suburbs of a city. Except these are working dogs. All appear well fed and the long haired ones well groomed. Whenever I have stopped to talk to people and they have their working dogs with them I notice the dogs sit quietly and fix their gaze on their owners face waiting for their next command. Their loyalty and obedience is incredible to behold. 

After a tight river crossing the cattle started to scatter. The dogs went straight to work and in short order had them moving along in tight rank. Order restored the dogs fell back to take up position beside their master ever alert for an errant cow. 

After riding adjacent to a wattle forest for a few kilometres we followed the jeep track as it turned into the forest where nestled the village of Black Fountain. We rode out of the trees just beyond the tiny village - a handful of huts as far as I could tell - and sat on the grass enjoying the warm afternoon sun. The snow capped mountains of Lesotho jutted out of the land a few kilometres to our west. They are incredibly rugged and form a fortress like wall around that mountain kingdom. Fortunately we were headed south along a mountain chain that possessed none of the protective menace of the Lesotho sentinels. 

 

Back on our bikes, aided by a slight tailwind we spent the next hour winding our way along the mountain peaks following well used cattle trails - route options abounded. At times we barrelled along at speed and at other times we picked our way carefully down rocky 'staircases'. Apart from the occasional dab it was all rideable - on the edge occasionally, but all good fun. 

At the end of these trails one is faced with an assortment of options on how to navigate off the mountain and down the cliffs to arrive at the Tinana Mission station located in the crease at the foot of those mountains. None of them are easy. Ahead of us Tim, Andrew and Gawie had each opted for a different route as would we. The armchair critics back home tracking our progress on their computer screens had a field day. Times and lines were compared and critically assessed. Janine and I were the last ones into the breach and we were watched closely. I opted for a line shown me by Anton last year - it's a tiger line of note. At best I approximated his route. The starting point is vague and involves just heading down. Once about a third of the way down the mountain a scratchy cattle trail emerges. More of a suggestion than a well defined track. We followed this off the mountain to a dirt track below. It's not a pretty route but it's fast and effective. I did grimace from time to time when I heard Janine's bike take the occasional hit as she dragged if over the gnarly rocks. My bike, as ugly as it is, wouldn't make it through the preliminary round of a bike beauty contest so the odd contact doesn't faze me. Janine on the other hand has a contention bike. The scramble down also did nothing for her ailing tendons. 90 minutes after leaving Black Fountain we wheeled our bike across the rickety suspension bridge next to the mission station. A short while later we joined Gawie and Andrew at our overnight stop at Mrs Kibi's house. It had been an enjoyable afternoon on the bike - for me. Janine on the other hand had fallen foul of her injuries and was on the threshold of a tough finish on the day to follow. 

Black Fountain - Part 1

There are a number of sections of the Freedom Trail that stand out. Most for the hardship and commensurate satisfaction derived from conquering them. Black Fountain however is remembered for the splendour and joy derived from kilometres and kilometres of the finest single track that traces its way along the ridge of a mountain chain that starts at the nondescript village of Black Fountain and ends with a challenging 'dismount' off those mountains to get to the ramshackle mission station at Tinana. That joy does come with a 'price tag'. It isn't too onerous, a couple of bite size challenges that start the moment you walk out the door at Malekgalonyane. 

The trip to Malekgalonyane although slowish had been refreshing. The winds that hounded us the day before had abated and it had warmed up. It was a perfect day for riding. We as yet had not cashed in on that promise.

Tim had left just ahead of our arrival and Gawie and Andrew were a little way behind. Gawie arrived a few minutes ahead of Andrew. I don't remember much about the lunch. I do know I had recovered my ability to drain copious quantities of tea and was pleased to indulge in that talent. The food must have been adequate or I would have remembered what it was. The sun streamed into the building as we sat around the long table and simply hung out. I was cognisant of the warm ambiance and cheerful chatter. It was a good day to be out on the trail with friends. Looking back it was the point in the race where my hollow legs filled and my inner furnace caught light. I was on the trail, I was happy and my heart, mind and body synchronised. 

Janine and I left ahead of the other two and took on the first challenge of making our way off the ridge and across the veld to the dirt road near Ongeluksnek. The river crossings were easy and even though I did get my feet wet it didn't matter because although the water was cold the day was warm and I knew my shoes would dry. 

Leaving Malekgalonyane the dynamic between Janine and I changed - our lines on the performance graph crossed. For the first time since the start of the race I got a chance to turn my neck to look behind. I had found my legs and Janine had started to feel the onset of chronic tendinitis in hers - it was an unfortunate coincidence. 

We made good time to the road, walked up the steep climb by Ongeluksnek Reserve and rode through to Thaba Chitja where we contoured around to the cattle tracks leading off the mountain. Crossing the river we looked back and saw Gawie and Andrew climbing down the last cliff just before the river. They caught up quickly and we chatted on the walk up to Kubong village. Once at the village and we started on the track that would take us to Black Fountain village the other pair got into a good rhythm and got smaller by the minute until I eventually lost sight of them as they dropped over a ridge many kilometres ahead. 

Queens Mercy to Malekgalonyane

We left the Queens Mercy store at 07:30 and wiggled through the village that lay beyond. Fairly soon we were bouncing down the rutted district road that led to Mparane, Janine as always up ahead and me trailing behind. Having never ridden this section at that time of day I was pleasantly surprised to see school children out in their hundreds making their was to the various schools, differentiated by the varying colours of their uniforms. Many keen to greet us as we passed by. 

Nearing Mparane village we came across dozens of workers who, judging from their overalls, were working with Working for Water. Their job is to rid the area of wattle trees that exist in innumerable forests in that area. Time will tell if their efforts yield any results or if it is merely a community upliftment exercise in that money flows into the area. The area could certainly do with the money. 

Wattle trees were imported from Australia in 1864, initially for shade and firewood. During the middle part of the last century they were found to contain a high percentage of tannin (used for tanning leather) and were grown in massive numbers that supported a thriving export market. Australia being one of the countries that imported tannin from South Africa. Those heydays are over but the invasive wattle survives. They play an important role today as firewood. The harvesting of wood for this purpose has resulted in massive erosion scars across much of the rural landscape where the are harvested. They are cut and tied together in massive bundles and  then dragged behind oxen and more recently by tractors. As destructive as this practice is in terms of soil erosion it does produce the most wonderful riding tracks imaginable as they rise and fall over the landscape for many kilometre at a time. In places the rocks have been polished smooth by the process. 

As I watched the workforce gathering with the purpose of removing the wattle I wondered if any real attempt had been made to improve the electrification of the area. Without electricity and accessible firewood how were people to cook and heat water? Riding in that area we often see people busy harvesting the wattle for firewood so it seems that it is still an important resource. 

Arriving at the base of the Mparane ridge we engaged our inner mountain goats and scrambled up on to the ridge. For the next 30 minutes we rode along the the firewood drag path that runs the length of those mountains. I use the word 'rode' in its loosest sense as I was often reduced to walking. Legs hadn't come around yet. I didn't make much use of my gear shifters. I was either freewheeling, walking or trickling along in granny gear. As I commented at the time, it wasn't the most epic of strategies but it was working. The mighty Tim James was just ahead and the powerhouse that is Andrew Barnes was still behind us. 

 Dropping off the ridge we made our way down to the river crossing, rode across the grass covered spur above the Mariazell Mission station before dropping off the last ridge that saw us reach the road at the mission station entrance. A pedal and a short push had us arriving at Malekgalonyane. It was 10:25. We had plenty of time to refuel before pushing through to Tinana where we planned to overnight. 

Masakala to Queens Mercy - Scribbling through the dark.

As I stood on the threshold of Masakala with favourable weather forecast for the next few days I was eager to get on with the days riding. Little did I know, I was about to make 3 navigational blunders in the space of no time at all. When nav skills are supposedly your "thing" nav errors sting no matter how insignificant they may seem. Janine got to experience them first hand and had a part to play in fixing two of them. I knew there had to be a reason for keeping her around. That reason was about to play out in my favour. 

I hadn't anticipated riding out of Masakala in the dark. I planned to be passing through there 14 hours earlier so had never bothered processing the finer detail required for seamless nighttime navigation ahead of time. Dave Bell had set the getting out of Masakala "Blunder Bar" very high a few years ago when he zigged at the precise point when he should have zagged resulting in a predawn phone call enquiring how to get out of Matatiele. I remember my initial response to that call. "Where?" Followed immediately with "How?" For those who don't know, Matatiele is not on the race route - it is a one hour 'detour' in the wrong direction. You could do it in half an hour if it was on purpose but when unplanned the uncertainty kicks in and it drags  out the agony as you ride slower and slower. 

As I zagged where Dave had zigged all those years ago I felt quite smug - too smug. Reaching the place where I  normally picked up a track that led behind the school and down to the river I found a newly erected fence blocking my path. Unperturbed I kept going until the fence ended and it looked like we could skirt around it and pick up the track I sought on the far side. The fencing and building business must have undergone a boom in the last year. I picked my way through the maze of new dwellings, some with and some without fences. 

Having cleared the last of the houses I had no idea which direction I was headed. I stopped, looked up at the lights on the horizon and was filled with navigational uncertainty. It is not a feeling I am familiar with and as a consequence, not comfortable with. I scanned the lights in the distance desperate to see car lights which would give me a sense of where the main Matatiele road was. If I could get a fix on that then my brain gyro would reorientate itself and all would be good. Murphy, of Murphy's Law fame, intervened and not a single vehicle could be seen which wasn't surprising as it was only 04:30. I guess that if I had waited long enough I would have seen a car moving along the road. To add to my woes, the sky overhead was obscured due to the light pollution of the nearby town. Besides, the stars that I usually rely on had dipped below the horizon so were out of play. 

I don't subscribe to the saying "when in doubt stop". I would rather be moving. I proceeded to make my way down the nondescript and featureless grassy slope in the direction that seemed right. Janine didn't like my line and headed off almost 90 degrees to my right. After a few seconds I heard her calling out to me. She had found the track. Once on the track and heading down to where we would cross the river I looked up at the lights scattered across the horizon and everything fell into place. It was hard to believe I had been so discombobulated - I chastised myself for taking my eye off the ball. Obviously not enough - more muddlement was to follow in short order.  

We moved quickly and an hour after leaving Masakala we had made our way to the point where we were obliged to leave the main Queens Mercy district road and start our trek across the flood plains. The route I follow does not follow the suggested route as marked on the tracking system. It was also a route that Janine was unfamiliar with. I explained my intentions and she was skeptical and that skepticism was scribbled all over her face. To her credit she shrugged and followed me. A kilometre or so in I turned right at what I thought was the T-junction in front of the school. After a minute I became concerned because there was no school on my left hand side as expected. I stopped. Janine said we had turned too early. Huh? How can you turn too early at a T-junction? What I did know for certain is we had come the wrong way. Riding back I found that what I had interpreted as a T-junction was in fact a small kink in the main track. Somehow, under the glow of my lights I had missed that small detail and assumed the road had ended. Riding on a short distance we reached the school and I proceeded to wind my way through the various dirt tracks that lead in the desired direction. 

Reaching the end of the dirt road we had simply to loop around the last house and pick up the track that would carry us over the first section of the flood plain to the village beyond. Simply? I had never scrutinised this part of the route in detail. In daylight the track is simple to pick up. Where it gets a bit scribbly near the start it is easy to see where it resumes a hundred or so metres ahead. Just by scanning ahead you can see it. In the dark that didn't work. I stopped at a junction in the track. The left track seemed to peter out so I continued on the right hand fork. After a short distance it turned and headed off in the wrong direction. To cut a long story short I traipsed up and down in the grass looking for the right track. When that yielded no result I headed off through the thick grass on foot towards the lights of the village that were visible up ahead. After some while it became apparent that I was heading toward the wrong village. The village I wanted was about 20 degrees more left. Not a big error but sufficient to assure we didn't intercept the track we were looking for. So we spent the next 20 minutes plodding through the knee high grass that covered the cattle pocked dry mud beneath. 

As darkness yielded to light we tweaked out final approach to the first village. Riding through the bush we were reunited with the elusive track 50 metres from the village. In the light of day we made short work of getting across the rest of the flood plain and by 07:20 we were sitting outside the old Queens Mercy store. It had taken us 2 hours to cross the plain so my T-junction fail and our fumbling through the grass cost us about 30 minutes. Janine made some comment about my "awesome" route choice which I chose to ignore. I still believe it's the fastest and simplest route - if only I had zigged instead of zagging. 

Willing head but broken body.

Here is the message I send while tucked up in bed at Masakala. 

"If you accept that fitness is not the absence of exhaustion but rather the presence of recovery you will understand why I am broken. I entered that space yesterday before  Allendale and there has been no bounce back. As I sat at Allendale yesterday I was certain I was going to vomit and pass out. I have never felt so physically drained. Sitting here I am a further 160km's down the road and we have ridden through snow and into the teeth of an icy headwind for 18 hours. It hasn't been fun but we are over the half way mark to Rhodes. But now I am completely drained. Hopefully a good nights sleep will get me back on track and enable me to finish this thing. No records going to broken this year, just me!  Bedtime."

What stands out for me in this message is the juxtaposition of mind and body. I was physically drained yet cognitively aware of my depleted physical state. I was, as it were, an expert witness and commentator on my ongoing physical challenge. 

Charles Darwin said "Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge" - the genesis of the Dunning-Kruger effect. Without couching it with careful phrasing it means dumb people are spared the ignominy of their stupidity because they can't see it. I on the other hand was spared nothing. I was fully aware of how pathetic my efforts were and at some level I was intrigued to see how this was going to pan out. 

Masakala - time to regroup.

According to Gawie, Tim was having a nap in an outside room. Andrew was still behind us but arrived 40 minutes later. In the interim I took up position in front a a bowl of vetkoek and made an Olympian effort in tucking as many as I could into my belly. By the time I threw in the vetkoek towel I had at the very least put myself in line for podium consideration. It then occurred to me that perhaps some of the other riders might have wanted some. Oops, too late - no point crying over gobbled dough!

While sitting there feeling exhausted and vetkoek bloated it did occur to me that 38 hours into the race, in spite of my obvious sloppy physical condition due to a lack of quality training I was still in the company of the two strongest riders in the race. The irony of it made me smile for the first time that day. 

I had a shower then sat down for dinner and listened to the latest Tim vs Andrew episode. Andrew turned to Tim and asked him straight out what his plans were. I nearly choked on a chicken bone. There is no way that Tim was going to let his nearest rival into his plans. Tim was predictably vague and offered a few umm's and ahh's with the odd word which effectively said nothing. Unperturbed, Andrew announced that he would be getting up at 5 am to leave at 6 am. Tim mumbled something incoherent in reply. 

A few minutes later Andrew drifted off to bed. As soon as he closed the door behind him Tim got to business and started preparing to leave. Janine made some comment about it and Tim silenced her by putting his index finger to his lips. It was very amusing. Even if Andrew knew Tim was about to leave it would have made no difference to his plans. He planned to sleep until 5 am and that was exactly what he did. He must have known Tim was leaving as the main hut of Masakala in probably the least soundproof dwelling in the world. You couldn't pick your nose without the people in the adjoining room hearing it. Tim finished his preparations and slunk off into the night. 

This lack of sound proofing was going to be a problem for a few of the late arrivals. I had developed a bad cough and hacked all night. I heard later that the other riders weren't that amused. I have no idea who they were because I was tucked up in bed by the time they arrived and was long gone in the morning when they got up. I set my alarm for 03:30 and settled down for a cough interrupted night. 

By 4 am Janine and I were up and eating a freshly prepared breakfast while the rest of the riders were still snuggled up in bed. The hosts really do go to the ends of the world to meet the demands of riders who arrive and depart at all hours of the day and night. It's humbling. 

Wiping the crumbs from our mouths and replenishing our water bottles we walked out into a cold but windless  night. Things were looking up!