Prequel to "The Mountain Roared"

The last 20 hours of the race for me were rather dramatic but it occurred to me that the first part of the race never got a mention so here are the salient details of that first part.
All the riders in our start batch had indicated that Ntsikeni was their ambition for the first stop. Ntsikeni in one effort has only been achieved by 6 or 7 riders in the previous 10 years of the Freedom Trail. It is an impressive achievement covering 205 km's with over 5500 metres of ascent. There are 4 major climbs that take about an hour each to get over. As it turned out I was the only rider to get there inside of 24 hours.
The group charged out of Pietermaritzburg as a tight bunch and pretty much stayed that way with all of them at Minerva around 10 o'clock. Allen Sharp and I were in and out of the stop in less than 5 minutes which put us ahead of the rest of the bunch. We got down to the Umkomaas river and waded across around 11:30. Allen stopped to take his shoes off before crossing while I just waded across as I was. That is where Allen and I parted ways. The climb from the river up Hella Hella was a matter of ride a bit, walk a bit. I arrived at Allendale at 13:50 which is a pretty good time but 20 minutes slower than I would have liked. I was moving okay but not with any real energy. It seemed to me that the LCHF diet I was following didn't deliver during periods of high exertion. At Allendale I decided to get some carbs in the form of Coke. That seemed to give me a bit of extra energy. The day was a little hot for riding hard and I made Donnybrook 15 to 20 minutes slower than I would have liked. There I stopped and got some buddy bottles of Coke and made a weak mixture of 1 part Coke to 3 parts water which I maintained for the balance of the race and it went down well. I also snacked on Woolies soft chewing gums the rest of the way to Rhodes, drip feeding myself on a low dose of carbs. As I headed toward Centocow the temperature dropped slowly which made the riding easier. Close to Centocow the temperature dropped rapidly so I decided to stop there and layer up for the night ahead. It was my original intention to skip Centocow but I figured it would be a good place to have a quick sto as I could sort my gear out and have a hot cup of tea and a peanut butter sandwich while I was at it. The ride out of there went smoothly except for a short while after crossing Boshelweni when I began to feel my eyes getting heavy. I countered this by listening to music from my iPod. In no time at all I was starting the gnarly climb on the track leading to the northern entrance of Ntsikeni. I expected to get my feet wet crossing the boggy part of the track close to the lodge. Fortunately it was so cold that the boggy bits were frozen and I was able to ride over without any difficulty. Arriving shortly before midnight I had a few cups of tea which became a regular habit at each support station and ate lightly which was also a constant. The general thinking is that you need to eat well to fuel up. Although I ate sparingly I ate often as I passed through a number of support stations each day. I also suspect that my fat adaption served well to keep me going. There are 2 route options out of Ntsikeni and I opted for the longer route as I figured it was less complicated and mostly rideable. It turned out to be a good choice as it was much faster compared to the time reported by riders who took the shorter route. A full moon made for a quick easy ride and 2 hours 15 minutes after leaving Ntsikeni Lodge I was rolling along the Politique road well on my way to Glen Edward. Soon after crossing the Swartberg tar road while moving quickly down the dirt road it got so cold that I had to blink my eyes open. Every time I blinked my eyelids would stick together and I would have to make a deliberate effort to open them. This was the coldest
part of the race. It had warmed slightly by the time I arrived at Glen Edward 30 minutes later at 5 am. Charles informed me that it was -10 Celsius.
Interestingly enough there were 2 other lady riders who had arrived an hour before me at the same time that Kevin Davie had left.
I informed Sheila and Charles that I would be pressing on and asked for a blanket so I could catch a few zzzzz's on the couch in front of the fireplace while they prepared me a breakfast of bacon and eggs. After a 10 minute snooze I ate breakfast (with 2 cups if tea) and left at 6 to chase down Kevin. By 7 am I had crossed in to the Transkei. By 8 o'clock my backside was starting to hurt. Not from chaffing but simply from being in the saddle almost non-stop for 26 hours. Compounding the problem was the horrendous condition of the Traneskei roads. I opened my pack looking for Anesthetic cream that I habitually carry but like Old Mother Hubbard I came up bare. The rough roads, tracks and riding over grass lands made it all rather uncomfortable. I arrived at Masakala just outside Matatiele sometime around noon. Kevin had left an hour before me so I hadn't made any ground with him. I decided to have another look through my backpack and hit the jackpot. Without delay the soothing effect of the numbing cream was doing its work. So soothed, I headed off toward Ongeluksnek right into a head wind that made the going a bit tough. I started to feel drowsy again on the long boring stretch of road toward the Knira flood plain. Help arrived in the form of a teenage boy on a bicycle. We struck up a conversation that carried me through the next 30 minutes. By the time he bid me adieu the tiredness had disappeared. I scampered across the Knira flood plain with only one mishap. My front wheel dropped into a huge hole that left my front handlebars level with the ground. I was gently deposited on all fours. Clearing Queens Mercy I rode on to Mparane and climbed up onto the ridge. Soon after last light I walked down the contour path heading to the old Gladstone farmhouse. The conditions had changed somewhat from 6 weeks previous when I had ridden the same way. A whole pile of wattle had been cut and was covering the ground obscuring the track. After riding around all the wattle I emerged on some drag paths that looked unfamiliar. I decided that the path would take me in the general direction I wanted to head so I followed it. Cutting across a grass plain I eventually arrived at a fence that was clearly not the one I had expected to find. Hearing a dog bark in the distance I figured it had to be coming from near the farm so crossed the river by walking over a fallen tree and in no time at all I was back in familiar surroundings. Climbing down off the ridge I cycled into Mariazell which is the school the FC Scholarship Fund enrolls it's students. There was a buzz around the school. I rode up to some students and asked what was going on. They explained that they were merely hanging out and enjoying each other's company. Before long there were at least a dozen students asking me about my ride, two of which happened to be FCSF students. When realizing I was riding alone one student asked "aren't you afraid of riding at night by yourself?" That piqued my interest as they were from the area and I was curious to find out if I was in any real danger. I asked what I had to be afraid of and the answer surprised me. It appears that I had nothing to fear from humans but should keep a sharp look out for ghosts and skeletons. Bidding them goodbye I rode to Ongeluksnek fully expecting to find Kevin there. To my surprise he had not yet arrived. He arrived after I had showered and fallen asleep so I never got to speak to him. I set my alarm for a 3 hour sleep. After 38 hours of riding I expected sleep would come easily but it took me 30 minutes to wind down and finally drift off.

The Mountain Roared

So much to say about a few short days. Let's start with yesterday. Arrived at Ongeluksnek just after 8pm having left Pietermaritzburg 38 hours earlier and save for a 10 minute snooze on the couch at Glen Edward I had yet to get some sleep. I chatted to the guys already at the support station while I coaxed down a few jugs of tea and half a dozen vetkoek. The supplied dinner was rather unappetizing and I merely picked at it. After a hot shower I climbed into bed and almost immediately started coughing. It was clear I had started with an infection. After tossing for 30 minutes I fell asleep waking 2.5 hours later. Climbing out of bed I was aware of a strong wind blowing outside. Under the dull light of a paraffin lamp I dressed and packed in the bathroom so as not to disturb the other riders. Breakfast consisted of instant oats and Weetbix which I had in my resupply box. Fed, hydrated and trussed up warm I headed out the door just before 2am. 30 mins in I stripped down as although windy it was a warm wind. I had an easy ride through to Thabatija before climbing down off the ridge and up the drag path to Kabong. Although not yet 4am I had to move aside to allow a team of oxen and the guys driving them to pass. Such is the importance of collecting wattle for firewood. Leaving Kabong I followed the cattle tracks up to Black Fountain. Aided by a full moon I made quick time along the mountain having little trouble in linking up the myriad tracks that wend their way across the ridge. Just as the eastern sky started to glow with the promise of sunrise I picked my way through the rocky ledges down the mountain and rode across to Tinana Mission. Once there I took of few minutes to get some antibiotics out my bag. I was starting to cough up chunks and my throat was getting raw. After scrambling through a few dongas and wadding through a river I was able to enjoy an easy ride toward Setabataba. I got to the start of the Vuvu valley at 9am and as soon as I got onto the first ridge was hit by the first really strong head wind of the day. As I approached the final climb up the cliffs to the Vuvu plateau I got seriously buffeted. Every minute or so I had to stop moving and brace against the wind. Carry a bike was not an option unless you had a buddy with a GoPro who could film a million hit YouTube moment. I used the bike like a Zimmer frame which in hindsight is a good age appropriate skill for me to acquire. Once on the plateau I had to walk most of the last few km's to the school keeping an eye out for flying roof sheeting. Once at the school I was told to put my bike inside the classroom as they were worried the wind would blow it away. As I sat there drinking milky tea and ignoring the greasy scrawny chicken that Vuvu is known for the conditions on Lehana were front of mind. It's generally breezy up the mountain but if we had gale force winds down at Vuvu I could only imagine how bad it was going up Lehanas pass. For readers unfamiliar with Lehanas Pass, it's a mountain trail of some 1000 metres of climbing. Once at the top you ride down to join the Naudesnek road pass which is 2500m above sea level - South Africa's second highest road pass. There is no clearly marked path. To get up you make your way to a ridge and generally follow the ridge line for a few kilometers until reaching the last big nek before contouring around to get to a path that takes you up to the top. I walked large sections of the road to the start of the portage due to the wind which made riding impossible. At one point I got a finger wagging from an old lady when I was riding along and got turned 90 degrees into the ditch by a strong gust. I interpreted it as "ja you flippin tjop, why do you think it's a good idea to ride that thing in these conditions!" The wind at the bottom of the portage required an all out effort to get the bike up the first few contours where the earth just crumbles under foot. What normally takes 30 mins took me 90 mins. As I inched my way up the wind got to the point of flying my bike like a kite. I had to grab both the bars and the saddle and weigh it down as I made a metre or two of progress at a time. At the first nek I ended up being pinned to a bush by my bike. The wind was so strong that I couldn't push off. After a few mins the wind slowed enough that I was able to liberate myself and continue up. My wind cheater was flapping so hard that is was making constant whip cracking sounds and the loose ends of my backpack stung my face as the wind blew mercilessly. The wind was making the flesh on my face flap not unlike pictures you see of people sticking their faces out of windows of fast cars. It stung so much that I rolled into a deeply rutted cattle track and unpacked an additional buff with which to cover my face. At some stages I was pelted with gravel as if someone above me on the ridge was throwing handfuls over me. It was just the wind tearing bits off the mountain. On one grassy slope as strong gusts forced me to sit I was pushed a few metres across the grass. While amusing it was time consuming. As I approached the main nek near the kraal and the cairn I could see the effects of the wind blowing across the grass and shrubs. As I got closer the noise, not unlike a jet engine was deafening. I was getting concerned that I would run out of daylight before getting off the mountain. I had been on it for 3 hours and had only 90 mins of daylight left. It normally takes just under 3 hours to get up. As I started across the rocks between the cairn and kraal the wind won the battle ripping the bike out my grip as I tried to hold it with one hand and keep myself in place by holding on to a rock with the other while seated. I crawled behind a small rock so I could at least sit up and take stock. I never panic when things get interesting. I am far more logical and calmly process options working on a plan forward. It was clear that I was in a situation that went beyond amusement. I was trapped and had to seriously consider my options. First thing was to get my bike back. After many minutes of careful movement I managed to drag my bike closer and wedge the tyres against rocky protrusions that anchored it against the wind. It was clear I had to get out if this spot. The first time I tried getting on my haunches and dragging the bike across the rocks ended badly with the bike once again being unceremoniously ripped from my grasp. A broken saddle and power adapter reinforced the seriousness of my situation. It took me 10 mins to retrieve the bike from lower down the slope dragging it inch by inch back to my hunker down spot. One option was to abandon the bike and get myself to the shelter of a shepherds hut a few hundred metres further down the mountain. I also contemplated dismantling the bike and taking it bit by bike to the cattle kraal a mere 50 metres away. That option had little merit as it was hard enough for me to move forward without the added impediment of bike bits. It was disturbing to be pinned down by a foe whose presence I was all to aware of but could not see. After 30 mins of making no progress I decided on a final all or nothing effort to cross the 50 metres of open ground to the relative safety of the stone kraal. With the realization that daylight was running low every minute I sat there I felt a momentary lessening of the wind Intensity. I grabbed my bike with both hands and keeping low I dragged it over the rocks to the kraal. The effort left me heaving but happy to have escaped the most extreme weather situation of my life. There was still work to be done but I was sure the worst was behind me. With 45 mins of daylight left I battled the wind across the face of the mountain to the path that leads up behind the container that has been placed at the top of the mountain. I thought the wind would ease once I was over the top but that hope was dashed. To add to my woes the temperature was dropping all the time. I needed to change my gloves as my fingers were numb and I needed another later on my body. With the wind howling and no shelter to enable me to go through my back pack I simply became obsessed with getting to the lodge to shelter from the wind and change my gear. By 6pm I had made the safety of the lodge, some 3 hours later than anticipated. I took my gloves off and was hit with excruciating pain consistent with early onset frostbite. It probably wasn't below zero outside but add the windchill of wind gusting in excess of 100km/h and it's cold. I put on some glove inners to stabilize my finger temperature and ease the pain. It was then that I started with the shakes. It was apparent that my core temperature had dropped significantly. I decided to take time to get a few cups of hot stuff down my throat and spend time next to the fireplace to warm up before taking on the last stretch to the finish. While I sat there the wind picked up even more making the fireplace roar accompanied by rattling windows and creaking roof. The prospect of a few more hours of fighting the wind had no appeal. One of the hardest things I had to do in this race was to head out the door and get back on my bike when the sensible option was to hunker down at Tena Head Lodge and wait for the wind to abate. If it hadn't been for all the encouragement and pledges of support for the scholarship fund I may well have called it a day. Just before 7pm I walk out the lodge to face the wind yet again. As the wind allowed I rode down toward Naudesnek. I hoped that as I dropped lower off the mountains the wind would let up. Progress was hindered in places by the wind and I had to take care rounding corners to avoid being spilled. After dropping down the first section the wind lessened to the extent that I no longer worried about staying upright. 2 hours into the ride down from Tena Head I started nodding off, drifting away all the time and battled to keep focus for more than a few seconds. My speed, even on the downhills had slowed to a painful crawl. Going down the numerous switchbacks in that state is just plain dangerous. It is not a place to get injured as the countryside is unpopulated and passing cars rare. Last time I battled these sleep monsters when riding with Trevor in 2012 it cost us a few hours. I decided on a power nap. My phone battery was drained so I had no alarm clock. I carry an emergency kit which includes matches and fuel tablets. I made a teacup size fire and lay down close enough for it to warm my face. With the temperatures below zero it was guaranteed that when the fire went out I would wake up. After 10 or 15 mins the smoke from the now extinguished fire woke me. I jumped back on the bike and fully awake powered into Rhodes arriving at 10:15pm some 64 hours 15 mins since departing PMB. Although a disappointing 3 hours later than my worse case prediction I had arrived in one piece after a harrowing experience in the clutches of the mountain. I am left with a new respect for the trail as well as a reminder of just how frail and vulnerable we are.

Carrot and Stick Challenge

From the previous post it is obvious that dangling a benefit to the Freedom Challenge Scholarship Fund makes me a soft target. To date over 2 dozen scholars have benefited from the fund in that they are either at the school or have already completed 3 years of study. The current arrangement is not perfect mostly because of the structure of rural schools that have just 3 years of senior secondary school - grades 10 through 12. The students performance had been hampered by a serious lack of foundational learning. It has been a case of
'If something is worth doing it's worth doing badly.' And the efforts so far have served a dire need and have been worthwhile.
It has been recently announced that they will be changing to a 5 year high school as we are familiar with in the cities. That will allow us to select students based on grade 7 performance and push them through 5 years of school and beyond.
It is our earnest hope that even if the Freedom Challenge ceases to exist as a trail or race events the scholarship fund will continue for many years a a legacy of the riders who navigated the trail.

The Ordinary Cyclist is Challenged

Chris Morris posted the following challenge

I think Mike is full of crap! All this stuff about strategy, rest, flabby guts, over weight, under trained, etc is all good. But we know that nearly everyone who lines up at Town Hall just before 6am is well ready physically. People of all shapes and sizes, girls and boys, young and old, from fat farmers to racing snakes, have conquered this phenomenal challenge. Some have failed but persevered (some taking 5 times!). Mike is physically ready! What it really takes now is mental fitness! What will focus Mike a bit more is a challenge to play on his mind! He says he's keen to beat his PB of 71 hrs. Mike, my mental challenge to you is as follows: I will give you 75hrs to get to Rhodes and will donate R100 for each of those 75 hrs to the Freedom Trail Scholarship Fund. I will add another R100 for each hour less than 75 hrs. But Mike you must add R250 for each hour over 75 hrs ( rounded up!). What do you say Mike? Are you mentally up for the challenge?

Cecil Murray waded in with the following:

I will add R100 for each hour under 75, and R500 for each hour under 71 hours ... IF Mike coughs up R100 for each hour over 75, and R500 for each hour over 80. No pressure now, boet, just saying I know how tough you are.

And Chris Morris came back with:
This is sounding good but Mike is very quiet! The Scholarship Fund needs about R30k per student. Will we be able to add another student next year??

My initial response:

Response to challenge in 2 parts.
First part - go read my blog entry from 2011
http://mikewoolnough.blogspot.com/2011/06/work-to-be-done.html?m=1

Underweight and Undertrained

I have tried the strategy of arriving at the start line overweight and undertrained and it has certain advantages but non that matter once the race starts. Hauling a flabby underpowered carcass up countless mountains does little to uncover the merit of this as a sound strategy. So pot-bellied, lethargic wannabe athletes where on earth does this saying come from? It's the antithesis of "don't arrive at the start line overtrained and underweight."
You will be pleased to know that I haven't fallen into either one of those traps. I shall arrive underweight and undertrained. Work and family commitments have assured I didn't overtrain. In previous years I put in as many as 25 hours a week in training. 2011 was the year I trained the hardest and the year I failed miserably at the Freedom Challenge, pulling out toward the end of day 2. This year I have focused on shedding surplus blubber, getting reasonably fit and planning to arrive at the start line without any recently healed or irritating physical niggles.
According to Strava, in the last month I have ridden only 11 times covering 556 km's in 28 hours 34 mins. These read like the riding stats of a typical weekend warrior not someone looking to charge down the trail to the adulation of their many fans. Fortunately there are no fans to disappoint and the charging will be a relative term. I am looking to race myself. Simply trying to see if I can better my 2012 time of 71 hours to Rhodes. I need to stay focused on that one goal and ignore the antics and surge of the riders around me. Clock is ticking slowly. Enough already, I just want to ride my bike down the trail!

The necessity of sleep and rest

While attempting a long period of non stop activity such as the Race to Rhodes one needs to bear in mind the necessity of sleep and rest. Far be it from me to present hard scientific data on this subject. Instead, I draw upon previous experiences on the Freedom Trail.

One cannot under estimate the necessity of both sleep and rest. Firstly, they are not the same thing. The moment you stop exercising you are resting your body and muscle recovery begins. Sleep on the other hand has little to do with muscular recovery and everything to do with cognitive recuperation. I like to think of the relationship between sleep and the brain as a chunk of computer memory that gets loaded up and only sorted and downloaded to the hard drive once you power down the device. Without sleep the available memory fills up and chaos ensues with trying to load more data. My experiences of sleep deprivation have resulted in hallucinations, both visual and auditory. I have seen Energizer Bunnies stalking me during a 24 hour race event. I have seen people walking toward me offering me refreshments while I "mowed the lawn" only to realize that the "person" was in fact an approaching car. I have heard people calling me when I have been alone and many kilometers from anyone else. After a while all your brain wants to do is shut down so it can sort and clear the memory buffer. Eventually you have no control over your wakefulness as parts of your brain cycle down. This results in you falling asleep while riding your bike. It is exacerbated when the lack of sleep coincides with your circadian dips such as 4-5 o'clock in the morning. It is incredibly debilitating. One stretch that should have taken me no more than 3 hours took over 4 with me battling sleep monsters. In hindsight I should have taken a 30 minute power nap which would have resulted in me completing the stretch in less time. The secret is the power naps. When you are battling to stay awake sleep comes quickly. Curling up in a ditch results in near instant deep sleep with the associated cognitive recovery. It's hard to oversleep in a ditch as it is uncomfortable and cold. After 30 minutes you are able to move on with a refreshed mind.
Rest is another matter. The truth is that on a race like this it is a luxury you can't afford. In 2012 I wrote about a rest day of just 160km's. It followed an arduous 270 km, 20 hour day of pain and suffering. By riding slowly and well within myself I was able to recuperate sufficiently to get up the following day and put in a 39 hour effort to cover the last 370 km's to the finish.
To get to Rhodes in under 71 hours I need to factor in the essential requirement of sleep which should total somewhere between 2 and 3 hours as well as the requirement to factor in some "active rest". When and how to fit this in will be the challenge.

The challenge of riding and navigating at night.

Night riding is not everyone's cup of tea. The Joburg chapter of Freedom Challenge Veterans and Friends regularly get together most weeks for 50-60km off road night rides. I guess it's a habit picked up from riding the Freedom Trail where night riding is a requirement even if the strategy is simply to ride one support station at a time. The advise to novice Trailers is to start early in the dark and if things go pear shape at least give yourself the chance to ride out of trouble when the sun comes up rather than end up trying to navigate to a support station after last light. Get it wrong and you sleep rough.
When racing to Rhodes there are a handful of sections that attempted at night pose challenges even for experienced veterans of the trail. The forest section in and out of Donnybrook is always fun as logging activities reshape the landscape and roads. Lots of stories from this section over the years. Getting lost there has been known as the "Donnybrook Maneuver" since 2007 when Glenn Harrison slept rough after heading into a thick mist after dark armed with first generation narratives.
The forest section about 2 hours out of Centocow is also a pearler. I rescued 3 lost riders there 3 years ago. They had started a day ahead if me and by 14 hours into my ride I found them wandering about the forest looking rather forlorn.
And so the stories of the last 10 years go. Lots of lost riders on all sections of the race. So how do you better your chances of success if racing through the night? The simple answer is ride it first instead of raving it as a novice.The current Race Across South Africa record holder made a point of doing the race at a leisurely pace in 2011 before his record ride of 2012.
Experience alone is not the only ingredient. When I ride the route during daylight I always make a point of looking for visual clues that would be visible in the arc of my lights. Mountains and distant forests as landmarks are of no use. I memorize things like trees, rocky outcrops, houses, fences and even the changing soil types under tyre. I make a note of critical distances to decision points as the distance you cover at night seems a whole lot further and faster than it is.
Many sections are left for you to figure out a route to get from A to B.
It is then important to be able to construct an aerial view of the landscape in your head. Even experienced Trailers spend hours looking at Google maps which helps them better understand the task. With this degree of the geography loaded you can mix it up to keep it interesting. A few times over the years I have tried new routes in the dark just for fun and they have worked out just fine but only because I had a good sense of where I was at all times.
Being able to get your bearing by looking at the stars and moon can be a great help. Knowing how to use a compass is invaluable when the skies are obscured.
Lastly, know the risks and be prepared to suffer the consequences if it doesn't go as planned. In 2012 Trevor and I headed up Lehana under a moonless sky knowing we faced an interesting navigational challenge as well as snow higher up. We didn't factor in a gale force wind that forced us lower down the valley than we intended. When I realized we had strayed from the perfect line is was just a case of figuring the best way out. With an understanding of the terrain and fence lines we were able to get out without too much difficulty. It might not have gone as smoothly and we were prepared for an uncomfortable night out if that had been the result.
With all my experience and knowledge does it mean I won't get lost? No, because no one is bigger than the trail.

The Challenges of Navigating the Freedom Trail

In response to a question from Eddie Leggo where he asks "Mike how do you navigate the ride is the route marked or do you follow GPS cords."
Hi Ed. The route is neither marked or GPS navigable. If you want to be disqualified arrive at the start line with a GPS loaded with the route. Freedom Challenge navigation is achieved via maps marked with the route in conjunction with supplied narratives. A compass comes in handy at times, particularly at night when it's overcast or you are unable to determine your bearing by the stars. It's always a bit tricky for novices as the narrative says things like, "a short while after crossing the stream you will see a jeep track heading off into the forest". That "short while" is very loose. At times it could mean 20 metres and at other times it could mean a few kilometers give or take a few kilometers. The narrative also uses terminology unfamiliar to some such as "head up the spur", "make your way up the watershed" or "you will cross several seeps". The prospect of passing a Spur Steak Ranch or happening upon a shed serving fresh chilled water is a thought quickly dealt a hash blow.
Compounding the challenge are narrative descriptions like "after crossing the river you want to make your way onto the spur and head up the watershed to pick up a jeep track on the left hand side of the stand of trees just to the right of the nek." Perfectly clear narrative IF it isn't pitch black. In that case the narrative is useless.
The most common mistake is to navigate from just the narrative as it is too easy to skip a line or even a whole page. Ideally you should be navigating off a combination of maps and narratives. The other challenge is to understand the maps. There is a highlighted path which is sometimes mandatory and at other times indicative. The method of marking the maps has improved. Previously the digital magic marker used to mark the route dropped dashes that looked like a path when often no path actually existed.
Half the challenge of the race is to make sense of the maps and narratives.

LCHF and the Race to Rhodes.

6 months ago I adopted the low carb high fat (LCHF) lifestyle as advocated locally by Tim Noakes. I am keen to see how it plays out on the race. Since switching my eating habits I have shed 14 kg's in weight and reduced my girth by 10 cm's. I have kept records of my rides and the benefits in terms of riding pace are evident. The weight loss is amazing and currently shows no sign of abating. I went for a fasted ride two days back and averaged 30 km/h over almost 75 km's. Would never have tried that before without stuffing something in my face beforehand. It seems there is merit to LCHF.
The real test will be the results of the up and coming race. Fortunately we have a benchmark against which to measure. Two years ago I rode to Rhodes like I was being chased by the Feds and completed that part of the race in 71 hours. I arrived well spent and could not have gone any faster. While I had a few weather related challenges along the way it only added an hour or two to the ride. This year we can see if the performance benefits of LCHF for athletes are as good as claimed. To be fair there isn't a lot of data to be found on serious endurance events beyond Iron Man. From what I have been able to find through "empirical research" (empirical research = advanced search options on Google 😄) it seems that during the Iron Man the LCHF athletes tend to use carbs in the form of Coke and Gels. The argument being that you will run out of energy if you don't add carbs. They also suggest that the intake and consumption of carbs is balanced and doesn't impact negatively on the body's ability to burn fat which is the risk of loading on carbs and triggering excessive insulin release. They report sluggishness if taking carbs immediately before the event and running low on energy during the event if they do not ingest carbs.
For the race I will be in uncharted territory when it comes to optimum race nutrition. I will be taking both fat rich sources of fuel such as salami and nuts as well as carbs in the form of jelly babies and the like. The balance will be interesting particularly over a multi-day non-stop event. The exertion levels won't match those of an Iron Man athlete and perhaps fat fueling can better keep pace with energy expenditure. My dietary preferences have changed so I will be less inclined to reach for a Mars Bar and rather opt for a handful of nuts. I will make a point of eating fatty food as and when it crosses my path and will eat carbs are necessitated by lack of choice or lack of energy. If I can stay off excessive carbs I will as I don't necessarily want to drop out of a ketogenic state. The trick is to find a good balance. Need to bear in mind that LCHF is "low carb" and not "no carb." Carbs are okay as long as they are not excessive to the point of stimulating high insulin loading.
As I said earlier, it's uncharted territory and it's going to be really interesting to see how this balance plays out.

Strategy matters.

Strategy, strategy, strategy. Those are the 3 most important elements of a successful Race to Rhodes. This begs the question - what constitutes success? The answer lies buried in the hearts and minds of each rider. There are those who plan to get to Rhodes in 6 days and enjoy the pleasures of each day smelling the roses as it were, arriving in Rhodes with a sense of true satisfaction. At the other end of the scale is the consummate competitor who wants the bragging rights of fastest person to Rhodes. I use the term "person" not in an attempt at political correctness but because over the years the race has seen its fair share of world class lady athletes who cycled circles around their male competitors.
In between those extremes are riders who have generally completed the Race Across South Africa and relish the idea of coming back and bettering their time to Rhodes. The Race to Rhodes is a microcosm of the longer race. It may even be argued that it is more distilled in the sense that it is the hardest portion of the full race route and the average speed over the ground is much slower than any other section of the race. To gain a proper perspective you must know that the current record time to Rhodes is a smidgen over 9 km/h. 2 years ago Trevor Ball and myself became only the 6th and 7th people to get to Rhodes in under 3 days (72 hours). We snuck in with an hour to spare and averaged 7.11 km/h from the start. On the way to Rhodes we slept twice, each time for 2 hours. While the Holy Grail is Martin Dreyers 56 hour record which will be hard to beat, the challenge is to finish inside of 60 hours. That being the case, I have to somehow shave 11 hours off my time from 2012. Given that we only slept for 4 hours, it means finding time somewhere else. And that's where strategy plays a hand. When to sleep, how long, and when to take the dark on most effectively.

Race to Rhodes! What's that?

How does Race to Rhodes work? That's an interesting question as it is a race like no other. In the inaugural event last year Glenn Harrison was the fastest Race to Rhodes rider but he came third as I recall.
Backing up I step I must explain that the race has 9 or 10 start dates. This year the first batch of 8-10 riders sets off on the 8th June and the process is repeated every day for the next 8 or 9 days. Admittedly I am a bit low on the facts. At least I know my start date - 13th June, I think! Each day there is a mix of riders heading for Rhodes and Cape Town. The person winning the Race to Rhodes is the person who completes the race in the shortest time from when they set off from Pietermaritzburg town hall and arrive in the hamlet of Rhodes. If your start day is early on you could well be done with your ride and be sitting back at home in Joburg as the provisional winner waiting to see if your excitement is justified or short-lived.
There are those who think the Race to Rhodes (R2R) should be a separate event and not include the Race Across South Africa (RASA) entrants. I am happy for all riders to be thrown into the mix. Look at it this way - everyone is racing to Rhodes and then some are continuing on to race to Cape Town.
Back to Glenn winning but coming third. Glenn raced to Rhodes and as such kitted himself out for the 3 days it took him to get there. You can ride with a lot less for 3 days. In theory you could ride with little more than a Camelbak weighing 2 or 3 kg's. A RASA rider is unlikely to get away with under 6 kg's with the average rider toting a pack of 7-9 kg's. If someone laden like that heading to Cape Town can beat me to Rhodes when I am riding with a light weight day pack and throwing everything in to a 3 day effort then by all means give them the credit and bragging rights for getting to Rhodes first. And that's exactly what happened to Glenn. Last year Cape Town bound riders got to Rhodes faster than he did and was was happy enough to concede that he was beaten.

2 weeks to go!

As I sit here gobbling down another Noakes approved greasy breakfast I am aware that in 2 weeks time I will be driving down to Pmb to head down the Freedom Trail for the 11th time. I am excited at the prospect of doing the Race to Rhodes. As a race the Rhodes leg of the Freedom Challenge is as hard as you want it to be. Over the years the banter between riders has been "are you going to Capetown or just to Rhodes". Until last year the stretch to Rhodes was known as the Ride to Rhodes. It was a challenging ride covering 6 days typically with a support vehicle to lug the extra baggage and nightly comforts and often with an experienced bike mounted guide. A few years back Andre Britz and myself talked David into letting us do an unsupported ride to Rhodes that we named The Rough Ride to Rhodes. The only change was no vehicular support and you had to carry your own kit as if you were doing the full race to Capetown.
As I recall we only had 1 or 2 takers. One being Anton Mayberry. Carrying a full race pack certainly changed the complexion of the ride. It was tougher. It was after this ride that we planted the seed of racing to Rhodes Last year was the inaugural Race to Rhodes. It was a low key event but has since gained traction in the minds of previous riders. If memory serves it will be the first time since 2006 where the number of riders going "just" to Rhodes outnumbers the crew heading on to Capetown. The prospect of riding as long and as far as you want each day makes it every bit as challenging as the full race and perhaps harder over the short time as you can ride yourself to exhaustion over a couple of days. Looking forward to it .......

On the road again

After a one year hiatus I am returning to race the Freedom Trail route again. Have been babbling on about it on a Whatsapp group. Will transfer the earlier scribbles into this blog and then post future blogs directly in here.

Day 15 and beyond - the final push

For the first time since the race began I got up at a civilised time and tucked in to a great breakfast. Once everything was ship shape I went back and had a last cup of tea with our hosts. Even though I still had just over 370 km's to finish I was feeling upbeat. My wife and daughter were due to depart for the States on Wednesday afternoon. I figured that if I finished on Tuesday I could fly back to ORT airport in Johannesburg on Wednesday and meet them there before their flight.
At 6:40 I got on my bike and pedalled off. After 20 minutes or so I realised that the pains of the last few days were in recess and I was able to ride freely. In fact it was enjoyable. The ride from Rouxpos to Anysberg and then on to Montagu is roughly 160 km's but there are no difficult sections, one small climb (20 to 30 minutes) and one downhill that seems to go on forever.
Soon after sun rise it warmed sufficiently for me to take off a layer. While doing that I took a picture of what was one of the last wind pumps I would see in the race. There is something about these things that I enjoy. They are uncomplaining workers who silently go about their business, day and night. I must admit that I have heard a few groaning from time to time. Some have been replaced with electric pumps, a few are broken but most still work.

I arrived at Anysberg and after checking a few doors found the cottage allocated to the race - a whole pile of race tubs qualifies as proof. It was just before 1pm so a perfect time for lunch. Looking in the fridge I found a pot of stew or something masquerading as stew. Wasn't going to find out. Didn't fancy that as I had no idea how long it had been there. Next option was Weet-Bix. Tossed 4 pieces in a bowl, drowned them in milk and covered it all with an unhealthy pile of sugar. It was exactly what I needed. In fact, I had a repeat performance, admittedly with just 3 pieces. With half a box of Weet-Bix and 3 cups of tea in my gut I whipped my steed into action and raced across the plains to Hoek van die Berg. A chilly head wind did little to slow me as I cranked up toward the summit of Ouberg Pass. From there it is a glorious 15 or 17 km descent in to Montagu.
In less than 4 hours I had covered the 76km's from Anysberg to Montagu. It wasn't yet 17:30 so there was no point in stopping. Leaving my bike propped up against the railing by the front door I proceeded to the front desk and was warmly greeted by the person on duty who was expecting me. When they asked if I would like dinner. I said I would be pushing on and asked if I could rather have some Weet-Bix, a pot of tea and a refill for my one empty water bottle.
They were happy to comply.
I went and retrieved my bike from the pavement and parked it in the foyer - with the hotel staffs permission! As I did that I noticed a half dozen or so people standing around in the foyer and they were intrigued with my presence. It turned out they were fellow mountain bikers busy with a mountain biking tour. Apparently they had ridden about 30 km's that day. When they asked how far I had ridden I told them I had done 160 since breakfast. This impressed them, they thought it was an amazing distance for a days ride. When they asked how much further I was going to ride that day it occurred to me that I may as well finish the race and be done with it. "Just over 200km's before I stop" I replied. And there it was, I decided in that instant that I was going to get back on my bike and keep riding until I got to the finish at Diemersfontein.
8 Weet-bix and 2 cups of tea later I was back out on the street heading for Ashton. Shortly after passing through the tunnel I was flagged down by a guy who had stopped his car ahead of me. He greeted me warmly, offered me some tasty morsels and asked if I was doing the Freedom Challenge. He mentioned his Epic partner Justin had done the Freedom Challenge a few years back. As it turns out I know Justin Bouer very well and count him as one of the dear friends I have made as a result of this race. After a few minutes he wished me luck and I was on my way again - what a small world!
Arriving in Ashton I stopped at a petrol station and purchased 2 Red Bulls (poured them in to a water bottle) hoping they would help with the sleep monsters who were sure to come looking for me during the night.
The route out of Ashton to the steel bridge that crosses the Breede river was tricky to navigate the last time we rode though here so this time I paid special attention to what I was doing. It was difficult again! I figured out why, the narrative and the map are wrong. Even so, save for one dog who chased me with the intent on ravaging me I had an easy, fast, uneventful ride to McGregor. It was a beautiful windless night with a full moon in a cloudless sky. It was one of those nights when you feel like you could ride forever.
Arriving at McGregor Country House I found out that fellow rider and friend Gerrit Pretorius was there and I popped my head around the door of his room and had a brief chat before sitting down to a 3 course meal - no Weet-Bix this time.
At 22:30 with a bloated belly I headed off to Kasra a mere 25 kilometres away. After cleanly negotiating the portage through Coeniesrivier I arrived @ Kasra at 1am. It is a really nasty time to arrive anywhere - not for me but for the hosts. Even so they were waiting up for me and topped me up with bread and butternut soup. Thus fortified I headed off to tackle the walk up trappieskraal. Clouds were starting to roll over the mountains ahead and I hoped they wouldn't obscure the moon and ruin my perfect night.
After a long stomp up the mountain I rode around the endless wheat fields before dropping off the mountains. The long descent left me a bit cold so I stopped and made a quick cup of tea. At Kasra they filled one of my bottles with a mixture of water, milk and sugar. I simply heated it up, popped in a tea bag and voila! Climbing up the last nek before the road drops down toward brandvlei the sleep monsters returned. I rode over the nek and halfway down the other side before concluding it would be safer to have a roadside nap - I didn't want to fall off my bike. I was going to keep my Red Bulls for later. I dragged my bike into the bush, set my alarm for 30 minutes and fell asleep. I woke up, set the alarm for another half hour and slept some more.
Hauling my body and bike out of the bushes I noticed how cold it had become. Unaccustomed to road side sleeping I had made the mistake of stopping on a downhill. As I rode off the chill of a fast descent made my teeth chatter so much I expected to see bits of tooth enamel flying out my mouth. Added to that, I was shivering so much that I couldn't hold the bike in a straight line. The absurdity of it made me chuckle which just made the situation all the more absurd. I was desperate to find a steep hill to climb so I could warm up.
The climb up to the road that runs above Brandvlei and through the prison did a good job of warming me and I was able to shed a few layers. I rode on for a few more minutes and noticed a car climbing up the hill behind me. It was Justin Bouer and his family. They were on their way to Mossel Bay and on the off chance of seeing me had taken the route past Brandvlei. Tracking me on their ipad made the job a little easier. From the tar road they had spotted me riding up against the mountain and made a quick detour. A hot mug of coffee and a danish pastry went down well. It was really good to see them. I rode off feeling good. It was a gorgeous wind free morning and I made good time through the prison and on to Trouthaven. I was a bit tired having been on the road for over 24 hours and had to walk the last few climbs. My achilles and shin were starting to hurt again so I was taking it easy.
Arriving at 10:15 I figured I had 45 minutes to eat and have a hot bath to ease the pain in my legs before starting the trek up Stettynskloof. I wanted to be out of the kloof before dark.
My hot bath turned out to be luke warm and did little to lift my spirits or dull the ache in my legs. A notice in the kitchen gave a list of each riders food ration and to my horror it specified "only 2 Weet-Bix per person". Reluctantly I complied and added a pile of other food.
At 11am I started the 60 minute ride to the dam wall where the kloof portage starts. I was tired and was worried the sleep monsters would have their way with me through the kloof. I need not have been concerned about that. Not even sleep monsters dare venture through that inhospitable place! I started walking up the kloof at midday. The gnarly remnants of a footpath made me rethink my new drug free approach and a couple of painkillers were called upon to do their work. I made hard work of an already difficult part of the race. To compound my troubles I got the route through a part called "the rocky scree" completely wrong! I have given at least a dozen people the right advice on how to navigate this section and then I hashed it up. The subsequent thrash through thick entangled undergrowth cost me at least 20 minutes. Surprisingly enough it didn't affect my mental state. Once I realised my mistake I simply picked a line and got on with what I knew was going to be a horrible experience. Once back on track I plodded on toward the big climb that would take me out of the kloof. The second half of the kloof was hard. It is littered with rocks and tortured my aching legs.
I headed back toward the river along the old fire break, crossed the river, wrestled through some ferns and onto the ridge on the far side. Now all I needed to do was clamber up the mountain side and I could bid farewell to the kloof which has tormented just over 100 riders since the inception of the race. It is easier now then it has been over the years due to a recent fire but it still has attitude and the regrowth will make subsequent years more and more difficult.
I took one big tumble on the climb out which necessitated a climb down to retrieve my bike and a further climb down to retrieve my tail light which had broken off. I needed the tail light to ride up the 8 km tar section of Du Toits.
Just before last light I was sitting on the ridge looking down the length of Stettynskloof valley. The mountains that hem it in are massive. The 8 or 9 kilometres from the dam wall had taken me just over 5 hours. I spent 45 minutes fixing stuff that had been "remodelled" on the way through the kloof including my shoes which were totally trashed. I also noticed my bottle of Red Bull had disappeared. That's the one problem with carrying your bike on your back - you don't notice when stuff falls off. When I had finished fixing and packing I looked up and noticed it was completely dark. I had made a mistake. I should have found my way down to the obscure jeep track before I stopped to sort my kit out. After 20 minutes of picking my way down the mountain I found what looked like a jeep track and followed it until it actually looked more like a jeep track and less like a disused foot path. I was on my way to the finish!
I reached the tar road at the bottom of Du Toits Kloof Pass some time around 7:30pm. From there it is an 8 km climb, about 45 minutes,up the pass followed by a fast 35-40 minute ride down the mountain through plantations to the finish.
It took me 2 hours to do the 8 km tar section. The sleep monsters were waiting for me on the tar road and no doubt chuckling about my missing Red Bull. The tar section is a mindless ride and that's the problem. When riding I was weaving from side to side across both lanes. Whenever I saw a car coming I stopped on the side and stood still because I didn't trust myself to stay riding on the side and the risk of hallucinating and wandering in to the path of a moving vehicle was real. I walked long stretches and fought an endless battle. Eventually I looked up and saw the jeep track leading in to the forest. The sleep monsters tired of their games right there and I was wide awake as I wound my way down through the forest toward Diemersfontein. David was waiting at the estate gate which he had unlocked. After greeting him I pedalled around over the dam wall toward the finish line. Having left Rouxpos 39 and a half hours before and covering 377 km's with just an hours sleep next to the road, I got off my bike for the final time. I had finished the 2260km race in 15 days, 16 hours and 10 minutes.
I had a great couple of hours with my race buddies eating pizza, drinking cappuccino's and being wrapped in a finishers blanket before heading off to bed reflecting on the most amazing riding experience of my life. I fell asleep truly happy and content.

Day 14 - A rest day of 160 kilometres

After just 3 hours sleep I was woken by Brian's alarm. Not quite what I had in mind but I was awake so I got up had a shower and prepped my bike. Bike prep. consists of filling water bottles and adding race powder, cleaning out all the snack wrappers from the previous day or stage if you do multiple stage days, and in my case topping up my snack bag with jelly babies and wine gums. I snacked my way through a bag of each for every completed stage. Lastly a selection of energy bars and chocolates were selected and loaded. Choice changed each day according to how I felt. Chunky Kit Kat always got the nod.
Got to see Trevor and Theo at breakfast and they were looking annoyingly fit and strong. I decided I would treat the day as a moving rest day to recover from the abuse I had put my body through the day before. That's the irony of this race. I was contemplating an easy day of 160km's which included a 90 minute portage up a cliff face.
Leaving Prince Albert it was apparent that the Theo bullet train had lost none of their enthusiasm for fast paced riding and I settled into a more civilised pace suited to a guy half-a-hundred-and-a-bit years old. I plodded along nicely without realising quite how ploddy it was until I arrived in Gamkaaskloof at 11:23 to see that the 3T's (Theo, Trevor and Tweet) had signed in at 09:42.

The guy at the support station assured me that David's distances to the finish were way out and it was a lot shorter than the narrative suggested. I asked him how far it really was to the start of the ladder and he said it was only 4 or 5 km's. When I asked how far it was from the top of the Ladder to road he said it was also about 4 or 5 km's. In practice it was over 11km's to the Ladder and it was about the same again to the road. Fortunately I had done it before and wasn't suckered into the 4 or 5 km story.
I have gone up the Ladder (Die Leer) twice before, each time arriving at first light. This was the first time I was able to look at the route out of Die Hell in full light. Standing on the ridge opposite it was hard to accept that the route out went up the rocky cliff face in front of me. If I hadn't done it before I would have thought I was at the wrong place.
The narrative reads "walking behind the trees you will experience a moment of wonder!" And it really is a moment of wonder. Firstly you wonder if the steep ill defined path is right and then you are filled with wonder at the though of people finding this path and then leading donkeys in and out of the valley this way. In 2007 I stayed at one of the restored historical cottages in the valley and it boasted the first coal stove brought into the valley. It was dismantled and trekked in piece by piece on the backs of donkeys. The Ladder, or as it is better known 'Die Leer' is an amazing part of the history of that remote valley. It is a pity that a few land owners are looking to close down what has been a public right of way for decades because they don't want a few dozen cyclists a year passing over their land. To my mind, the race generates positive publicity for the little known jewels of Die Hell and Die Leer.
I have scampered up The Ladder in under an hour before but this time I sauntered up in 90 minutes, stopping often to look back and enjoy the view. Gamkaaskloof (more commonly known as Die Hell) is a remote valley less than 20km's long with an average width of just a few hundred metres.
At the pace I was moving I got to enjoy the variety of plants I passed as I make my way up the 1.2km climb. The plants in this part of the world are tough. They look inviting but are rough to the touch. It was interesting to note the presence of spekboom plants. Hundreds of kilometres back on the route they have embarked on a spekboom replanting programme in the Baviaanskloof mountains where over grazing, mostly by angora goats had all but eradicated this species that once covered the region like a wall to wall carpet.
I bumped my way over the gnarly jeep track that empties on to the district road just above the Seweweekspoort climb. A gentle headwind slowed progress as I climbed to the top of horlosie pass. The reward was a 17km descent on a dirt road in mint condition. The sun had started setting which added a surreal glow that made the experience all the more enjoyable. At the bottom I made the final turn of the day and cranked up the last few climbs arriving at the farm Rouxpos just after 7:30pm - a perfect time for dinner. I really enjoy Ronel and Gerrards company as they are warm uncomplicated people.
The three T's had arrived three and a half. hours ahead of me, stuffed food down their gullets and pushed on toward the next support station at Anysberg nature reserve. Well fed and showered I was settling down as Brian arrived. I was feeling remarkably relaxed and in good spirit when Ronel asked what time I would like breakfast. I said 5:15 would be just fine as it was a Sunday after all.
The other reason is that we would have to navigate our way through Wagendrift in the morning and I wanted to be able to see the landmarks clearly in day light. Just before bed time the race office called and told us to go around Wagendrift as there were issues going through. Trevor and Theo had been turned back and to add insult to injury Theo had been bitten by a dog on their way out. Even with the early navigational challenge now out of the way I was still keen on a late start the next day. It was a full but uncomplicated ride to Montagu in the morning so I didn't see the point in an early start.

Day 13 - 'Never take drugs to mask pain when you are on the bike!' - Really?

3 am and I was riding out of Dam se Drif with Tweet. One doesn't actually ride "with" Tweet. Its more a case of riding in his proximity. I found him to be a very focussed individual. He gets on with his riding and allows nothing to distract him. We were both a little dozy from not quiet enough pillow time so the sleep monsters were starting to whisper in our ears. Tweet carries an ipod with him for such occasions and plugging in he drowns out their suggestions. I envied him and wished I had thought to bring an ipod. By the time we reached Neuwekloofpass it seems the ipod had lost the battle and I caught up to Tweet who had donned his rain gear and was nestling down in the bushes for a power nap. It seemed like a good idea and I slumped down into the bushes nearby. 15 or 20 minutes later we were back on the road with the sleep monster chorus silenced for now. By the time we made the final climb out of the Baviaanskloof the sun was lighting the sky. The karoo mornings are spectacular. The eastern sky looks like a water colour rinse in orange while the western sky is washed in purple. After a brief stop to enjoy the magnificent view we made good progress to Willowmore in time for breakfast service at The Willows hotel. We had ridden for 6 hours and covered the first 90km's of a 260km day. Breakfast was short and sharp and the Tweet show with me as a supporting act headed out for the tedious 170km push across to Prince Albert. I knew from previous experience that a headwind was likely as the sun rose higher in the sky I just hoped that today would be the odd exception. No such luck! We hadn't gone 20km's when I noticed Tweet seemed a little distracted. On enquiry I found out that the sleep monsters were calling his name. If they were calling my name I wouldn't have noticed as the screams of the pain monsters were ringing in my ears. My left knee had become excruciatingly sore. Not something I needed with the other pains that I had been nursing for the last week. It was so painful that at times I caught myself groaning with each pedal stroke. At one time I wondered where the awful sound was coming from before realising it was me. I told Tweet I was going to take a time out and he said he would ride ahead and have a power nap. I said I would wake him if I found him asleep. I plonked down next to the road and tried to figure out how I was going to get this aching body across the next 150km's. I popped a few pain killers and strapped my knee and sat next to the road waiting for the drugs to do their work. 30 minutes later I still couldn't stand up. Sensitive and responsible readers should avert their eyes for the next sentence. Sitting in the middle of the karoo with no other option apart from a good supply of drugs I popped a few more pain killers and added the odd anti-inflammatory for good measure. After sitting immobile for over an hour I was eventually able to stand and get back in the saddle. The twin evils of a head wind and a wounded leg made the going really tough. I averaged just over 11 km/h over the following 6 hours. The polar watch I had made a beep every kilometre. It tortured me all day with its long drawn out silences. By nightfall, still 80kms short of Prince Albert I arrived at the farm Rondawel where I knew I could get water and a hot cup of tea. I had been on the go since 3am and still had 80km to cover. But, I knew that the slow climb I had been chipping away at for the last 15 hours would soon be a thing of the past! Once over the tar road the last 70km's in to Prince Albert were mostly downhill. Rondawel did not disappoint. Water and tea were accompanied by fresh vetkoek.
By the time I returned to the track outside the farm I noticed the wind had died. I got on my bike and scampered off as fast as I could before the wind got bored and started lashing me again. The lights of Prince Albert finally rose over the distant horizon. My excitement was tempered by the knowledge that the town was still 40km's of riding away in spite of the lights looking so bright and close across the clear expanse of the flat karoo. Johann Rissik, a Prince Albert resident, avid race follower and bike fixer extraordinaire normally meets the riders at this point of the race and treats them with coffee and rusks. Before the race we had spoken and he had promised to do exactly that for me. My phone being offline coupled with the tracker website being down meant he had no way of knowing where I was. I scratched around in my pack and found one last pain killer and put it somewhere useful - my belly. It was sobering to think I had gone through 10 myprodol, 4 cataflam and 2 voltaren in the course of the day. Shocking I know, but that's how bad the day had been.
As I pedalled up the last gentle climb just before Prince Albert my phone picked up a signal and I got a call from Johann. When he realised I was just a few kilometres from town he hung up and raced to make good on his promise. Just short of the first street light of town his car drew up and I enjoyed the warmth of both his coffee and his company before mounting my trusty steed and riding the last stretch to Denehof Guesthouse ending an arduous 20 hours of riding for the day. I was warmly greeted by Ria and Lindsay who plied me with good food and warm drink. Johann in the mean time had taken my bike to put on a new chain and give it a once over. It had been an incredibly hard day which left me completely depleted. I had finally caught up with Trevor and Theo. At midnight I was shown to a room which I would be sharing with Brian O'Reagan. He was as fast asleep as I was exhausted so I skipped a shower and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Day 12 - getting back in to the race groove

Getting up just before 4 Tweet and I heated some water for coffee on the Aga stove and managed to make toast in the oven. With about 965km's still to ride I needed to get a wiggle on if I wanted a reasonable finishing time.
The obvious plan to the finish looked something like:
160km to Dam se Drif
270km to Prince Albert (big ask but doable)
160km to Rouxpos
150km to Montagu
150km to Trouthaven
75km to Diemersfontein
That would give me a 16 and a half day finish which is reasonable. But, I wasn't sure it would secure 5th place with Allen, Richmond and Andre Visser chasing.
Soon after 4am we were heading up toward the Grootrivierpoort. At the top Tweet commented that arriving in the dark was such a waste as it was one of the most spectacular views of the race and we could only see the small space illuminated by our lights.
A few hours later, still in darkness, we arrived at the start of the Osseberg 4x4 track. In my typical conservative manner I started walking down the rutted and overgrown track. After a few minutes Tweet came shooting by obviously intent on riding down. I threw caution to the wind and cycled on behind him. I figured he would fall into the holes ahead of me giving me ample warning. As it turned out he stayed upright while shouting a few warnings to me. We were right on the crest of the mountain range when the sun lightened the eastern sky. We took the opportunity to stop and enjoy the vistas surrounding us. Up ahead what looked like a water filled valley was actually the valley we were heading for and it filled with morning fog. Riding down the mountain in to the fog was visually spectacular even though it was freezing cold. We crunched over the frozen grass through a thick fog and came to the first of 11 river crossings. When I first rode through in 2007 there was an obvious jeep track running the entire length of the gorge. Now it was barely discernible. Here and there were piles of flood debris that had dogged the riders last year. I can only imagine how awful it must have been. A year later the debris and fallen trees were still challenging although nothing compared to the carnage experienced during last years race.
Meryl had described that section as "dead easy". Clearly she had not been through here. The river crossings, sometimes as long as 100 metres were completely overgrown with reeds and finding the right route needed a bit of thought. The jeep track had become a series of splintered single tracks where huge fallen trees made it impassable. I wondered when last a vehicle had actually driven this far down the gorge and figured it had been many years.
Once over the 3 metre gate to the reserve we rode on what used to be a good dirt road but was now a tacky disused track. Clearly no one was visiting the reserve which accounted for the 4x4 track being in such bad shape.
Just before the main district road we found the river had washed the road away leaving a 30 metre chasm where the road once ran. That explained the disused state of the road.
We rolled in Kudu Kaya (Cambria support station) just after 11am and found it in disarray even though the riders who had spent the previous night had left nearly 6 hours before. There was no milk and no food. It arrived 30 minutes after we did and it wasn't worth the wait as it was far from appealing. I nibbled on the food, had a few cups of tea and we were out the door.
Dam se Drif is about 80km's from Cambria over 2 big mountain passes. The day was unusually warm and we made good progress. It was strange riding through the various kloof's along the way to find some really warm and others freezing cold. For the first time in the race I become really hungry. The hunger, combined with an ache in my left knee, convinced me to stop at Dam se Drif for the night and not push on another 90km's to Willowmore. Tweet was keen to push on and gobbled his food and got ready to go. He asked if I was coming and I indicated that I was done for the day and was pretty confident of covering the 260km's the next day to get to Prince Albert. I left him at the table contemplating his options and went to settle down. We had caught up with Rory and I was able to catch up with his trail stories including a first hand account of how he was savaged by a pack of dogs. He had the scars to prove it even though the stitches had already been removed. Rory is a great guy and it was clear that he was enjoying every bit of the adventure. Tweet arrived a short while later having decided to stay put. This resulted in a schedule and strategy change as he deviated from his 6 hours of sleep for the first time in the race and settled for just 5. Big day to follow with 260km's on the cards.

Day 11 - legs back online and well greased

Got out of bed at 5am and found the breakfast table set for 4 people. A quick trip outside revealed that Tweet (Graham Bird) had arrived after we went to bed. That meant that Allen Sharp and Richmand MacIntyre were a mere 4 hours behind me at van der Venterskraal as they had been riding with Tweet. They had started the same day as I had. That meant I had thrown away all the hard work we put in the first 3 days. Tweet had started 2 days after me so was currently sitting in 3rd place after Martin and Alex. Trevor a full day ahead of me was lying 4th which put me in 5th spot and fading.
Tweet joined us for breakfast and then we headed out ahead of him. We made really good time to the dam wall arriving 85 minutes after leaving the farm house. I was feeling strong and was itching to put some distance between myself and the pursuing duo of Allen and Richmond. I have known Allen for a few years and have the greatest respect for his riding ability. Quite frankly, I was just very chuffed to be ahead of a rider of his calibre. I fully expected that they would be looking to make Bucklands that night which meant I should be looking to not be there when they arrived. I told Chris that I wanted to push on beyond Bucklands and he said that was fine. With the nod from my mate it was easier for me to put the hammer down and cruise through the Kwaas valley, cut back through Koffielaagte and make it to the "mandatory" tea and coke stop at the Karoo Stop coffee shop in Kleinpoort scaling 2 huge game fences single handed along the way. Suitably hydrated I pushed on to Bucklands arriving at 13:20. Hannes and Rini weren't there but the domestic worker Rachel was on hand to sort out lunch and give me some padkos. I called Meryl (the race office) to ask if Hadleigh, a farm some 4 or 5 hours on from Bucklands, was available as an over night stop. Her first answer was "just go there and use your charm." This was later modified to "I will call him and let him know." With this information and no cell phone coverage I headed off. The ride out the back of Bucklands, through Tretyre to the district road was right in to the teeth of a stiff wind. I consoled myself that once I hit the road and made a 180 degree turn to head toward the Grootrivierpoort I would have an awesome tail wind. Wishful thinking! Tucked in close to the Baviaans mountains there was no wind at all.
Just as it was getting dark my bike started making an unusual cluck-cluck-cluck sound. It took me a minute or so to figure out that one of the derailleur jockey wheels had seized. Fortunately I carry spare jockey wheels and had it replaced in a couple of minutes. The turn off to Hadleigh farm is unmarked and with the stop to change the jockey wheel I had lost track of where I was. I knew the farm owner Benny and his wife lived "off the grid" and had a Lister driven generator which I was sure I could hear from the road. Soon I was riding through a clump of trees which I remembered were just below his house but there was no generator noise. I turned back 100 metres and found a track which came out by the house which was in complete darkness. "This is great" I thought, "Meryl has sold me a lemon - Benny isn't even here!" After looking around for a few minutes I found a garden bench that would serve as a bed. Another outside room yielded 2 huge grey blankets which I assumed were packing blankets. One was placed on the bench, which by now I had dragged into Benny's workshop, as a mattress and the other would make a cozy blanket to cover myself with.
I carry emergency food, a metal cup and fuel tablets which I used to make myself tea and a cup of warm Future Life porridge. Warmed and fed I hopped into my makeshift bed. I hadn't even closed my eyes when I heard Benny's pickup coming up the driveway. Plans changed quickly. Benny was followed 10 minutes later by his wife just returned from a shopping trip to Port Elizabeth and 10 minutes behind her Tweet arrived.
A hearty dinner was rustled up followed by a warm shower and bed. Tweet explained that his strategy was to sleep 6 hours every night. So with the alarm set for 3:45 we turned the lights out at 21:45. I was amazed at Tweets ability to fall asleep so quickly. Within 2 minutes he was sound asleep.

Day 10 - a fortunate encounter

After a good nights sleep I rolled out of Grootdam a few minutes after Chris and Dawn. It was clear that my aching body had not miraculously recovered overnight and even though they were cycling at a moderate pace I couldn't close the gap between us. Eventually they stopped and I was able to catch up. The climb up Grootvlakte and the slow grind up the jeep track through Monteax and on to the start of the Struishoek portage was torturous. If my phone was working I may well have called someone to come take me home in spite of my "can't quit' resolution of the evening before.
My descent to the farm house at Struishoek through the rocky gorge was slow and painful. Not exactly the kind of terrain you would take a broken body for a workout.
However, once at the bottom and onto a fairly level and dry access road where I could ride things started looking up. Rode comfortably from there. A strong headwind while riding toward Pearston did nothing to dampen my new found level of comfort on the bike. The ride to van der Venterskraal is not that challenging and we made good time arriving at 2pm. The drama of the day took place 1 km short of the support station when Chris's freebody gave up the ghost.
Once at van der Venterskraal he was able to remove the freebody simply by pulling it off - thank goodness it was a Hope. All four of the pawl springs were broken. For the less technical folk out there, the pawls are the sticky out bits in the heart of the back wheel that allow you to free wheel when going downhill or not pedalling but the moment you start pedalling the sticky out bits engage and fix the gear things to the wheel so your pedalling action results in the rear wheel being powered forwards. In Chris's case he was free wheeling in both directions and had no pedal connection to the wheel.
So there we were, over a hundred kilometres from the closest bike shop and the bike was as much use as lock-jaw.
The saying "with enough duct tape and cable ties you can fix anything" ran through my mind. As luck would have it a single cable tie was on the kitchen floor. I picked it up and joined Chris outside and figured out pretty quickly that I could make temporary springs from the cable tie. I cut it into 4 small lengths and fashioned 4 rudimentary springs after which I slipped the outer housing back on and it worked! Took no longer than 5 minutes. In less than an hour we had heated and eaten our lunch, refilled our water bottles, replenished our riding snacks and fixed a Hope freebody. Chris went on to ride another 500km's with his cable tie springs before he reached Prince Albert where spares were waiting for him. According to Johann Rissik who opened it up the bits of cable tie were still firmly in place and doing the job. It was satisfying to know that my bad patch the day before had resulted in me riding with Chris at the time he could benefit from my technical expertise.
We left at 3pm wanting to get to Toekomst 50km's down the trail. I was in a bit of a hurry as I wanted to make sure get got a clean line through the river crossings on farm Kuduskop. We bombed through there in double quick time and in the last few minutes before dark crossed the river for the final time emerging at the farmhouse where we were surprised to find ourselves hemmed in by shade cloth. They were preparing to collect all the game on the farm by driving them into the collection "funnel" we had ridden into. Without too much thought we climbed the ramp and dropped through the narrow opening to the ground below. Only then did we realise we could simply have lifted the cloth and bypassed the ramp. Funnily enough, other riders who we spoke to later did exactly the same as us.
Once on the district road for the last stretch to Toekomst we realised how warm it was. A berg wind made it feel like a warm summers evening where normal summer riding kit was adequate. 3 hours 50 minutes from when we had left van der Vensterkraal we arrived at Toekomst having had a good days ride. I felt good for the first time in days. Hot dinner followed by a cold shower (not by choice!) had me in bed icing my sore legs but feeling like I was going to get to Capetown after all. What a contrast to my head space 24 hours before.

Day 9 - The wheels fall off

It was time to make up lost time so we left Stuttgard with the intention of doubling through Grootdam to van der Venterskraal. Allen and Richmond were closing on us and we wanted to make sure we stayed ahead. Walking up Schurfteberg I realised I had cooked my legs and my race could probably be over. I told Trevor and Theo to go on ahead without me and although they were reluctant at first it became apparent that I was going to be a huge hindrance so they pushed on ahead of me. The tough navigation was behind us and my route knowledge was no longer critical to their success.
I rolled in to Grootdam just after midday as they were getting ready to leave. We spent a few minutes going over some navigational issues they would face up ahead and they got on their bikes an headed off. It was a bit of a bleak afternoon for me as I sat on my bed icing my injuries and contemplating what to do next. I realised it was not a good idea to pump myself full of pain killers to just get through each day as I had done the 2 previous days. The "Race office" in the form of David, Meryl and Glenn arrived at dusk and showed no sympathy. They left after Meryl had ravaged the race boxes of the riders who had pulled out of the race. During the deliberations going on inside my head I looked through my phone and found a recent update that one of my sons had made to their BBM status. It read "My Dad is still my hero". Wow! Here I was thinking about throwing in the towel and my son thinks I am a hero. My mind was made up there and then - heroes don't give up and neither would I. It was going to be difficult to keep moving but it could be done. I had experienced difficult days in previous years and a day or two of easy riding can make the world of difference. Besides, I had dropped out last year and the thought of doing it again was unpalatable.
Chris and Dawn arrived an hour after dark and while concerned to find me still there were genuinely happy to have caught up.
We caught up on our race experiences and settled in for a good nights rest. We were half way through the race and I was at least a day and a half slower than I would have like to have been at that stage. Tomorrow I would have to ride well within myself which would be easier without the Theo bullet train and Trevor the crazy chaser.

Day 8 - A brief encounter with the flat karoo

We faced a long ride today over Aasvoelberg, through Hofmeyr and on to Elandsberg. We were hoping to get through that section quick enough to allow us to push through to Stuttgard. The weather had finally turned and although the nights were really cold the days were pleasant enough.
We left Romansfontein well before sunrise and were climbing up Aasvoelberg as the sun crept over the horizon. Popping over the crest we were met with yet another freshly bulldozed track. We alternated between short rides, long walks and the occasional bike scrape and wash for the first few kilometers. Eventually the track returned to the condition we were expecting and we had a quick ride down to Magdala. A few kilometres on we dropped down Vlekpoort into the Karoo. What a contrast. It was warmer and the roads were flat and dry. Theo hammered it and Trevor was happy to tuck in behind. The pace was just a bit hot for me and my injuries which I had been trying to protect were niggling.
We made it into Hofmeyr just before the pie shop closed and ordered tea, coffee, coke and a pie X 3. Bellies dragging on the ground we pushed on to Elandsberg a little too fast with my legs squealing. Arrived at Elandsberg just after 4pm and found Chris, Dave and Dawn there. Dave had some health issues and was out of the race. Dawn (his wife) was riding on with Chris. It was a tough call for her but it was something they had discussed before the race.
A 45 minute turn around had us out the door with 30 minutes of daylight left heading for the next support station about 70 km's away. I was starting to hurt a lot and although I was keen to make up time I had to drag myself out the house well dosed with pain killers. Once again the pace set by Theo wasn't doing me any favours. Trevor was happily chasing along like a dog after the butchers van.
Entering the Spekboomberg reserve we joked about the sign on the gate warning about dangerous animals. Our mirth was cut short when Theo spotted 3 rhino standing in the road less than 50 metres ahead. Trevor and I hadn't seen them. After a 10 minute wait the rhino moved off and we were able to scuttle passed. Climbing back into the mountains we arrived at Stuttgard farm just before 11pm where one of the daughters took charge and fed us and attended to our laundry. I got some ice and applied it to the aching parts of my legs took a dose of anti-inflammatories and got in to bed.

Day 7 - We get to ride our bikes again

6am start with us dressed for the anticipated rain. An hour in to the ride it seemed like it was shaping up to be a gorgeous day. As it got light we were wading thigh deep through a river. A short while later we were riding over crackling ice. Such are the conditions of this race. Fortunately, by this stage of the race our minds and attitudes were well attuned to the conditions and we went about our business without a second thought. Once out of the wetlands we did stop and put on dry socks.
About 30 km's into the days ride we found Alex stopped next to the road with mechanical problems. The bolt that holds the saddle to the seat post had sheared off for the second time in the race. Unable to assist we rode on to Brosterlea where tea and hot soup were waiting. When we left 30-40 minutes later Alex had not yet arrived. We left Brosterlea with Theo and Hugh. Theo is an incredibly strong rider and we were able to move along at a brisk pace. The pace became too hot for Hugh and he dropped off. I was happy for the pace as the section through to Romansfontein is one of the longest days of the race. We made good time toward Stormberg and dropped down the mountain to the Stormberg station mid afternoon. We continued to ride purposefully through the Stormberg battle site in Vegkoppies and pushed toward Groot Seekoegat which I wanted to get through before dark. Just before dark we got safely though the last "interesting" bit of navigation and merely needed to make our way through to the next support station. The next hour was another mud fest followed by an easy ride on a district road. We had completed a "normal" stage in 13 hours but the extra pace was causing the leg injuries make themselves known.
Arriving at a civilised hour gave us the opportunity to get laundry done and do routine maintenance on the bikes. In my case it was a scheduled chain replacement.

Day 6 - the mud wrestling continues

Day got off to an interesting start. After arriving at 01:35am we got to bed at about 2:30am. I asked Trevor what time he was setting his alarm for and he replied that he wasn't setting it and was sure the other guys (who arrived at a civilised time some 7 hours or more before us) would wake us up when they came into the house for breakfast. I set my alarm for 05:00, left the door wide open and fell asleep instantly. What seemed like seconds later I was rudely awakened by my alarm. First thing I noticed was that the door was closed. A kind consideration by the other guys who tiptoed passed our room. I got up and joined them for a hearty breakfast. Trevor in the mean time was still flashing out zzzzzzz's.
As we were leaving the table the farmers wife asked where Trevor was. She was alarmed at my indifference. Trevor is a big boy and if he has a bad plan he can live with the consequences. He was woken and ran around in a mild panic with the farmers wife doing everything she could to get him ready. All rather amusing.
I went back to the verandah and started putting on the grubby wet clothes I had abandoned there a few hours earlier. When trying to put my shoes on they just wouldn't fit! I ended up digging out about half a cups worth of mud from the toe end of each shoe. All the walking the day before had trashed my shoes. The sole plate had separated from the rest of the shoe allowing mud to squeeze passed. That explained the sore and bruised toe nails!
Also noticed my right shin was badly inflamed and the left calf muscle and Achilles tendon were tender. The mud wrestling from the day before had taken its toll.
We set off right into a rainstorm. Before long we were sopping wet and the fun barometer was sinking fast. We arrived at Kranskop at lunch time and called it quits for the day. 2 days of mud and rain had drained us. We had only managed a half stage for the second time in 3 days and the weather outlook for the following day looked just as bleak.
The short day gave us time to attend to our bikes and get our gear washed and dried. My bike had come out of the mud ordeal in good shape. The same could not be said of the others. Lots of worn out brake pads, faulty shifting derailleurs and at least one bike with a worn out bottom bracket.
Martin arrived a few hours after sunset followed an hour later by Alex. We had been caught by the race leaders a lot earlier than planned. They arrived wet and grubby after riding through the same conditions as us but you wouldn't have guessed that from their mental state. Both very professional, polite and efficient. We went to bed a little apprehensive about facing another day of appalling conditions.

Trevor wanted to know why the kit list had a bike mentioned as a necessity.

Dr Livingston I presume?

Day 5 - would you like a side order of mud to go with that downpour?

Having got a good rest at Chesneywold we wanted to get to Kranskop which would be a stage and a half for the day. Unfortunately there were 3 big portages between us and our destination. An early start found us cycling through an icy fog. We made good progress and by sunrise we were making our way up the first portage. Shortly after finding the tracks on the other side we bumped in to Jaco (RASA 2008) coming from the opposite direction. He is busy cycling from Cape Town to Beit Bridge. It was a "Dr Livingstone I presume" moment except that we are well acquainted with each other. Spent a few minutes catching up with him and his adventures. What an amazing guy!
Jaco did mention that there was a bit of mud up ahead - what an understatement! Also said he had started riding at 6am and we found him just after 9am a mere 45 minutes of dry conditions riding from the support station. At the time I didn't put one and one together. A few hundred metres later we hit our first mud of the day. Nasty clingy stuff churned up by cows. It took us another 2 hours to get to the support station at Slaapkraanz where Trev got busy washing our bikes while I organised soup and tea.
The bike wash was a waste of time as the portage that starts as you leave the support stations was the stuff of what we thought were our worst nightmares - the worst sticky mud imaginable. We had no idea of what awaited us later that day, our idea of "worst nightmare" was to undergo a series of revisions over the next 12 hours.
As we slopped through the mud toward the last portage of the day (Bonthoek) the clouds blew over with a real threat of snow. We settled for sleet followed by a constant downpour. I knew from previous rides that once over the crest the track on the other side could get snotty. I was completely gobsmacked to find the track had been recently bulldozed which rendered it useless for riding and awful for walking. Chasing the last light we slipped and slid down the mountain and as darkness settled in made it to the unoccupied farmhouse at the bottom. Trev found a little shelter from the rain in the small half entrance to the house and started a brew while I busied myself freeing our bikes from piles of mud and grass that covered all the running gear of the bikes. How we managed to ride the last kilometre to the farm house on bikes in that condition still amazes me. Mountain bikes are incredible machines.
Bikes cleaned and tummies warmed we set off toward the emergency station 25 or 30 km's up the road. Once there we would decide on whether we would push on to Kranskop. Well, the mud and rain was having none of that. The access road to the farm was in appalling condition necessitating a walk of many kilometres. We arrived at the small settlement of Rossouw still 10km's short of the emergency support station of Moodenaarspoort at 11pm. Trevor made a bee line to the police station and by chance found someone there. It is such a small community that the police station keeps normal office hours. The guy had a room at the station and gave us the use of a phone and made us some hot milo. Trevor asked if he had any food and he happily fried up some sausage and dug out some fresh rolls. He refused compensation saying his mother would kill him if he charged people for food. He mentioned that he made milo for another rider a few years ago that rocked up early one morning looking like death warmed up after sleeping in the mountains. That was my brother. What an amazing coincidence.
Warm and fed with the rain in recess we headed off up the long climb to Moodenaarspoort arriving there at 1:35am. We had managed the equivalent of a normal days ride in appalling conditions but it had taken us over 20 hours.
We reluctantly woke the farmer who graciously welcomed us, gave us dinner and pointed us to a bed. We stripped off our sopping wet and muddy riding clothes, left them in a heap on the verandah and foregoing a shower dropped into bed. It had been a hard day but we were far from beaten.

Day 4 - Good sleep at last

2 hours sleep and we were on our way again. We were still sleep deprived and took our first power nap at midday stretched out in the sun. Our most optimistic outlook was to make Slaapkrans but we realised early on that Chesneywold was a more likely prospect. Part of the problem was that my strategy only ran as far as Rhodes in 3 days. The other part of the problem is that I had developed a particularly sore left calf and right shin. One made it difficult to cycle, the other made walking difficult. Not really a combination conducive to speeding along the trail. We eventually arrived at Chesneywold and got a proper nights sleep and our first opportunity for laundry. We had only managed just over half of a normal days ride so had reversed some of our earlier gains.

Day 3 - Rampant Sleep Monsters

We headed out at about 4am and on the spur of the moment I decided that we would try the longer but faster route out of the lodge which I knew about but had never tried. This turned out to be a mistake as it may be quicker in dry conditions but with recent rains it had become completely unrideable. We abandoned the "fast route" and cut across the hills, slopped through sticky mud and emerged onto a rideable road having taken 30 minutes longer than anticipated. We caught and passed our first riders coming off Thaba Chitja (they had started 2 days ahead of us) and made good time to the cliffs above Tinana Mission. Second mistake of the day was trying something different to what I had done half a dozen times before. It cost us a further 15 or 20 minutes but we were off and charging for Vuvu. The short stretch of road into Setabataba must surely be the worst road in South Africa. It is simply horrible. After a thorough rattling we arrived at the last spazza shop before entering the Vuvu valley only to discover they no longer sell coke! Muttering to ourselves we headed into the valley. Progress was slightly slowed by a late afternoon thunder shower as we made our way up the cliffs arriving just after 15:30. A push to Rhodes that night meant a moonless climb up the infamous Lehana. We decided to give it a whirl. Trevors reasoning was "just find the path and follow it to the top". If only it was that simple. We left Vuvu school with enough daylight to get to the start of the portage. Along the way I was coughing my lungs out and spitting out chucks. I hoped I had started the antibiotics soon enough to deal with the infection before it became debilitating. We had managed the first simple climb when everything went pitch black. It was so dark that we were unable to make out the silhouette of the mountains that surrounded us. To add to the challenge the wind started blowing, increasing in velocity until it was blowing us over. Total darkness, save for the light of our torches, and gale force winds made it impossible to tell if we were walking uphill or downhill. As a result we took an unconventional line and eventually by walking on a fixed compass point (actually just south as indicated by the Southern Cross) we found the gate below the container that led us to safety. Arriving at Tena Head Lodge at midnight, Trevor got the munchies and had to brew coffee and eat which we did sheltering behind a wall by the wood pile of the lodge. The inactivity unleashed the sleep monsters that swarmed over me all the way into Rhodes. Stopped at one river to dip my head in to the freezing water and inadvertently squashed and broke my glasses which didn't help. Sleep monsters (sleep deprivation) are incredibly debilitating. It starts with you nodding off while inactive, walking or riding day or night. If you are moving you start hallucinating. If you are very unlucky you crash as Alex Harris did while riding down Ouberg Pass into Montagu. Fortunately he hit the cutting on the high side and woke up tumbling down the road. To stay awake some people use Ipods others like Alex and I slap ourselves, yell or sing out insanely loud. It's worse than an injury because you have no control. Sometimes the best thing is to stop, crawl into the bush and have a power nap - anything from 5 minutes to an hour.

Eventually arrived in Rhodes at 5am. We had made it to Rhodes inside 3 days but only just. The lack of sleep had taken its toll - we had slept only 4 hours since leaving Pietermaritzburg 71 hours before. Still, it was a major achievement as only 2 other riders had ever managed that in the history of the race. After a quick snack we caught a few hours sleep.
We had finished the Maluti leg of the race and finally passed through the Transkei. Kids along the way are always keen to practice the little english they know and it seems like it is limited to "Good morning" which is anytime of the day and "I love you". One youngster stared up at me and delivered what I presumed was the extent of her english proficiency obviously learnt from her teacher in one endless stream "Good morning how are you sit down be quiet". Priceless!

Day 2 - the madness continues

After just 2 hours sleep we headed out of Ntsikeni intent on making our way to Malelgalonyane about 150km's away. I became aware early on that my lurgy had erupted into a throat infection which was a bit troubling. We made Masakala without an difficulties and had a bit of a sloppy turn around which left us with 90 minutes of daylight to start our run to our intended overnight stop. We had a good fast and clean ride which found us 75% across the Knira river flood plain before darkness engulfed us. We picked our way across to Queens Mercy and up and over the Mparane ridge when a light drizzle settled it. Crossing a key grassy area we got it a bit wrong and wasted 45 minutes in the blackness of a moonless cloudy night before emerging back on track and getting into the support station around midnight. Started on a course of antibiotics to sort out the infection which was starting to irritate me.
We had set ourselves up for a possible push to Rhodes in 3 days but it meant an early start. Went to bed knowing we would only have time for 2 hours sleep for the second night in a row.

Day One. Go big or go home.

I arrived at the start of this years race with few real ambitions and a handful of "wouldn't it be nice if's". It would be nice to get to Rhodes in 3 days as it would be to finish in under 16 days. Last year my attempt to race hard had ended on day 2 with an inflamed ITB bringing play to a premature close. 6 months of pilates and boot camp style PT had hopefully provided some form of guarantee in that department.
I moved my start day ahead by one day to make my sub 16 day wish fit in with my wife and daughters departure for an overseas competition. As luck would have it, Trevor Ball, a previous finisher of RASA (2009, 2010) arrived at Aintree Lodge a day early. On hearing I intended starting the next morning he ran around getting his loose ends sorted out and duly arrived at the start the next morning. I was happy to ride with him as he is easy company and he was happy to rely on my navigational skills.
At this stage 3 days to Rhodes seemed such a stretch as I was still feeling a touch off colour with a lingering dose of lurgy. As the city hall clock chimed 6am we headed out into what promised to be a beautiful day for riding. We made good time and by 11:25 we had crossed the Umkomaas river and were beginning the challenging climb up Hella Hella. At that stage Trevor and I had Allen Sharp riding with us. We were unprepared for the heat and we all had to deal with some form of cramping which is something none of us had experienced before. As a result we only made the first support station at Allendale at 13:50. We scuttled out of there and made good time to Donnybrook. Just before Donnybrook Allen had told us we could push on without him as he knew the way and was planning on stopping at Centacow. Pulling into Donnybrook we noticed he had dropped off but weren't concerned. We had a quick coke and vanilla milk stop and pressed on toward Centacow. Just before 5pm Allen rejoined us covered in blood. Apparently he had tipped himself into a bramble bush just before Donnybrook and its barbs had mercilessly ravaged him. We rolled into Centacow at 17:25 sans Allen. He arrived a few minutes later having zigged when he should have zagged. While Allen settled in for the night, Trev and I tucked into some fodder and prepared to push on to Ntsikeni about 50km's further.
Shortly after leaving Centacow my chain snapped and was quickly repaired with a powerlink. We made good time and after stopping for trail side coffee brewed on Trev's mini gas cooker arrived at Ntsikeni at 1am. We had put just over 200km's with 5500 metres of ascent between us and the start in the first day. With the real racing snakes due to start 2 days behind us, we were the current race leaders.