However, I was forced to reconsider all of this when my brother took over as race director of the Freedom Challenge. As a show of solidarity and support, I entered The Freedom Challenge Race to Cradock (RTC) – a self-supported 575 km mountain bike race from Rhodes to Cradock in the Eastern Cape of South Africa. This is a shorter, less extreme version of The Freedom Challenge Race Across South Africa (RASA) – a 2300 km self-supported race from Pietermaritzburg to Wellington that happens in June and July every year [see the sidebar describing the full Freedom Challenge portfolio of events]. Having never done a multi day mountain bike race, or ridden at night, or fixed a tubeless tire, or carried a backpack while riding, or navigated using a map, I was woefully inexperienced for this event when I began preparing in late January for the race in March. My first mountain bike outing on Table Mountain was a jittery, erratic, puffing mess in which I dismounted my bike at least eleven times for what seemed like crazy inclines, declines, rocks, roots and narrow pathways. I came away from that scared, anxious and exhausted. A day or two later I came across a TED Talk on How to Learn Anything in 20 Hours. The essence of the talk by Josh Kaufman is that we can learn to be productively proficient in almost any skill with 20 hours’ of deliberate practice. To do this, the speaker said that we need to: (1) breakdown the skill we want to learn into its component parts, (2) learn enough to know when we are making major mistakes, (3) remove any and all barriers to practice, and (4) practice for at least 20 hours in a deliberate and focused way. I decided to apply this to mountain biking. This entailed watching many YouTube videos and listening to a variety of podcasts about the fundamentals of riding a mountain bike (and about fixing tires, lubing chains, navigation and packing light) [See sidebar for a list of useful video channels and podcasts]. I also committed to ride my mountain bike for at least an hour a day, for a minimum of 20 days in February. In each session, I focused on a specific, fundamental aspect of riding a bike (braking, foot placement, cornering, descending etc.). By the end of February, I had mostly stuck to my plan and although I was still extremely nervous about the upcoming Race to Cradock, I was at least able to get around the Table Mountain trails with only one or two dismounts; things had improved substantially. Additionally, and more importantly, I had really enjoyed the process of learning a new skill. I know that I am never going to be an exceptional mountain biker and I will likely never get any external reward or recognition for my prowess on a bike; but the intrinsic enjoyment I got from developing a new set of skills and improving day-to-day was incredibly satisfying. It generated energy and enthusiasm for an activity I had always kept at a safe distance. As I made my way to the start of the Race to Cradock in the tiny town of Rhodes up high up in the mountains near the border of Lesotho in the Eastern Cape, I was both fearful and excited. I was embarking on something different from anything I had done before, and I would draw on a new set of skills I had only very recently developed. Almost everything about the event was new and novel, and this made it both thrilling and terrifying.
Freedom Challenge events require that rider navigate their way along the trail with just printed maps and written narratives (GPS devices are strictly prohibited) and we carry all our clothing, spares, snacks and drinks on backpacks and in saddle bags. Riders are assigned to small batches of just 8-10 people each, and only one batch goes off per day. There are checkpoints (farms, cafes, lodges etc.) every 30-80 kms along the trail, and each checkpoint serves as a support station providing a meal to riders, and a bed to those wishing to sleep over for a night. Each rider decides how far they want to go each day; the racing snakes cover the 575km of RTC in just 2 days with almost no sleep; but the rest of us (mere mortals) ride for 4, 5, or 6 days with a decent night’s sleep in a farmhouse bed each night.
With all this as a backdrop, I set off with my seven new batch compatriots (none of whom I had met before) at 5am on March 18 th , 2019. We were all focused on making our way to Craddock along the Freedom Trail, 575 km away. The first thing that I realized immediately was how easy and fun it is to ride at night with decent lights. I was then struck by the exhilaration and beauty that come from riding through the transition from darkness to light as the sun emerges from behind a mountain. Having started in the pitch black we were soon confronted with glorious changing colors across the sky as the sun rose behind us while we cycled steadily and deliberately up the hill out of Rhodes.
An hour into the ride our batch splintered as riders of different speeds paced themselves to ride according to their capability and plan. With this came solitude; not the kind of solitude that one dreads, but rather the solitude that I often crave in my usual day-to-day hustle. I found myself on my own surrounded by some of the most magnificent mountains, vistas, plateaus and valleys. My sense of incompetence on a mountain bike gracefully disappeared as I was consumed by the awe of my surroundings and by the challenge of navigating my way from checkpoint to checkpoint. The Freedom Trail is a combination of dirt roads, rough jeep tracks and vague single-track cattle paths across framer’s lands. Most of it is rideable, but there are sections where riders need to dismount and push or carry their bike, due to steep inclines, declines or thick bush. Many parts of the trail need to be very carefully navigated; it is easy to get lost as one picks a way through the vast wilderness that the trail traverses. For this reason local knowledge and experience on the trail are a distinct advantage. Novices, like me, gain a lot of benefit from sticking with a trail veteran (or “blanket wearer” as they are called on the trail because the reward for finishing the Race Across South Africa is a Basotho blanket). I sometimes found myself pedaling harder than I should to stick with those who seemed to know where to go, or I patiently waited for others to catch me so we could navigate the tough sections together. I am eternally grateful to the blanket wearers in my batch – Ray Sephton and Charles Hughes – who so graciously and patiently helped me navigate the tough sections of the trail.
Once the adrenaline and excitement of the start of the race wore off; the reality of the task at hand started to set in: I needed to ride 575 km across really rugged terrain. To get through this, each checkpoint along the trail became an alluring destination; something to focus on. The intent was always to reach the next checkpoint, and to keep things exciting each checkpoint was distinctly different. Some checkpoints were large farmhouses with beautifully manicured gardens
and welcoming hosts who wanted to talk all about the details of the day, others were standalone farm buildings or lodges where riders were left mostly to their own devices, while another was a local pie shop where we stocked up on lamb and venison pies and washed them down with a cold Coke. The one thing that all the checkpoints had in common was great food – whether it was because of the excessive calories burned on the bike, or just the excellent Eastern Cape cooking – the food at each checkpoint tasted delicious and there was always more than enough to eat. Anyone who has done a tough endurance event knows the endorphin high that comes from finishing up a long bout of exercise and then allowing one’s body to rest. Its glorious! On the Freedom Challenge we got to experience that high every day. After arriving at a checkpoint late in the afternoon, after a full day of riding that started at 5am, we would shower, eat and sit around sharing stories about the trials, tribulations and challenges that we overcame out on the trail that day. Some people would enjoy a beer, others a chocolate milk, and others a copious amounts of cold water. But we were all in a great mood, with vague aches and pains from excessive exercise, and would all then go to bed early so we could wake up the next day and do it all again. This daily cycle of “wake up-eat-ride-eat-ride-relax-sleep” continued day-in and day-out. Even though the cycle was predictable, each day was interesting and varied, and the riding was diverse and challenging [see the sidebar describing the distances and riding terrain each day]. There were long strenuous climbs that were tough enough to bring back harsh memories of a road biking trip to the Pyrenees few years back; there were gnarly descents with tight turns, steep drops, and loose gravel that made me feel a little like Greg Minnaar for just a few fleeting moments (even though my riding style and speed were nothing even close to his); there were times when the only option was to hike with your bike on your shoulder, and there were some long flat stretches where I just had to grit my teeth and push on through, even though my back ached and my quads burned. All-in-all I found myself enjoying my mountain bike more and more as the days progressed, and by the end of day 5, I honestly wished that I could keep going. Even though my body was tired, my bike was starting to creek and my shoes were held together with cable ties, I longed for a few additional days on the trail. In the closing stages of the race I began to properly understand, for the first time, why people do the 2300 km Race Across South Africa. It got me thinking about whether I might soon embark on the full RASA pilgrimage. I ended the journey thinking, maybe, just maybe, “I am a mountain biker.”
