Race to Rhodes 2019 || Highlight Reel - by Nicholas Louw

A few highlights from the 2019 Freedom Challenge Race2Rhodes I did with my dad.

Read Nic's full and brilliant blog post with incredible images HERE

Desirable Difficulties and Simple Pleasures on the Freedom Trail - By Greg Fisher

“In our modern age, we yearn for authentic experiences where our courage must be summoned. One way we do this is by willingly under-taking extreme physical challenges. Through these experiences...we drop our pretenses, ego, and arrogance in favor of truth and transformation. We fulfill our intention to be authentic.” -- writes author Amy Snyder in the ultra-endurance cycling book “Hell on Two Wheels.” 

As I trudged up the steep rocky incline of a path, with my bike on my shoulder, the sun beating down on my neck, and my cycling cleats making irritating clanking noises as they collided with stones every time I took a step, I thought about how different this experience was from what I usually expect when I go out to ride my bike. I am mostly a “fair-weather” rider. I like to know exactly where I’m going before I head out (preferably with GPS to help guide me); I calculate precisely how long it should take; I examine the weather forecast so I can dress appropriately: if it’s likely to be too hot, cold, wet, miserable or dark, I usually opt for the indoor trainer instead. 

But here I was, late in just the second day of a planned 475km, 6-day race (read: ride) from Pietermaritzburg to Rhodes covering some of the gnarliest and most difficult to navigate terrain that one could imagine, as part of The Freedom Challenge Race to Rhodes. The previous day I had spent 11 tough hours on the trail, 3 of which entailed bushwhacking through the thick, overgrown, thorny brush at the bottom of the Umkomaas Valley and another 2 climbing the long, steep ascent out of that same valley. On this, the second day of my ride, having already spent 8 grueling hours on the trail, I still had at least 4 more to go to reach the second overnight stop at Ntsikeni Nature Reserve in the foothills of the Drakensberg in Southern KwaZulu Natal. And the path just seemed to keep going up; it felt like we had been climbing forever. Everything about what I was doing was tough, challenging, and uncomfortable. For a few preceding hours, I had been in a deep pain cave. Then all of a sudden I came to the realization that this is actually awesome - a real privilege: “I am out in the middle of nowhere, seeing parts of the country that almost all South Africans will never get to see, I am suffering a lot, but it is making me feel alive and focused. How can I reconcile this?” I wondered. “How can I feel so tired, so depleted, so uncomfortable, and so uncertain about what I still need to do, yet also so excited and engaged?” It was then, in my mental wanderings, that I was reminded of the concept of ‘desirable difficulties’ - the idea from learning theory, that suggests that when a task is extremely challenging and difficult, to the point that it is usually uncomfortable, it often generates new insight, perspective, understanding to the point of becoming enjoyable. Here I was experiencing this for real, with my bike, on the trail. The difficulties of the Freedom Trail - hike-a-biking, navigating; taking many hours to cover just a few kilometers; arriving at support stations after dark and then leaving before light; getting hungry, thirsty and tired - all made the experience rich, intense and, dare I say, fun. They prompted me to learn things about myself that I would not have otherwise learned. They engaged me, forced me to be present, and to focus on the task at hand. They made me feel alive! 

Coming to the realization that the extreme difficulties of the trail were actually quite desirable quickly and positively changed my perspective on the Freedom Trail experience. My fear of riding in the dark was transformed into a new challenge; the difficulty of hiking with my bike up sheer mountain slopes became an opportunity to overcome something really difficult; and I began to experience the pure joy of just riding in the most remote parts of South Africa. From that point onwards on the trail, I began to look forward to the difficulties that lay ahead as each represented a chance to learn, grow and engage more deeply with my surroundings. And there was no shortage of difficulties still to come. Having trudged into the second overnight support station, after 12 hours on the trail, just as the sun was setting on day 2, we woke up to cold rain on day 3. Setting out on our bikes in the predawn pitch black, with the raindrops clouding the light from our headlamps, and the cold biting through my gloves and socks necessitated that I seriously embrace the idea of desirable difficulties. By the time I reached the lunch stop at Glen Edward, I could no longer feel my feet or hands due to the combination of wet and cold. I peeled off my socks and gloves and lay on my back with my hands and feet stretched out to absorb heat from the farmer's anthracite heater in their living room, trying to thaw out. With some delicious soup in my system and some vague feeling back in my hands and feet, I set back out on the trail with my four other riding partners, who prior to the race I had never met, but with whom, due to this shared experience, I was quickly forming a strong bond. We made our way up and down mountains, through thick groves of wattle and across chilly rivers; we stopped for Coke and chips at a spaza shop in the absolute middle of nowhere and eventually, just as darkness was descending, we arrived at Masakala, a simple guest house in a rondavel in the middle of a rural African village. 

The Masakala guest house was not fancy by any stretch of the imagination: two wooden bunk beds per room, a single bathroom for all the guest staying there to share, a small spartan dining area with a pine table and chairs, and a tiny kitchen from where our hosts prepared food. We got a basic, yet comforting meal of meat, potatoes, and spinach and as I crawled into a warm bed that night with a full stomach, lying under the heavy Basutu blanket provided by our host, it struck me how, when out on the trail simple things are transformed into wonderful pleasures. Most people who partake in the Freedom Challenge are relatively well off: we have (or have had) good jobs: we can afford nice luxuries like a meal out or time away at a hotel when appropriate; generally we don’t want for much. If required to sleep in a bunk bed, or share a tiny bathroom with multiple other people, or have a cold shower in any other circumstance we would probably complain, but when out on the trail, no one complains. In fact, these simple things become wonderful pleasures in the context of the Freedom Trail. On my way to falling into a deep slumber that night, I realized that I need to be more grateful for what I have; I need to spend less time complaining and more time appreciating the simple pleasures in my life. The trail was revealing to me these authentic truths. 

The shorter day of riding on day 4 was a simple pleasure in itself, after 3 days of more than eleven hours on the trail, a day of only 8 hours was a treat. As was the sunshine when it eventually appeared that morning. We had set off in temperatures of minus 9 degrees centigrade before dawn, riding through frost ridden fields and floodplains. So when the sun eventually emerged from the east to warm things up and to reveal the beauty of the mountains surrounding us, the five of us were all extremely grateful, lapping up its rays like as though they were an addictive drug of sorts. The time ‘off’ at Malekgolonyane that afternoon was a treat: we sat on the patio in the afternoon sun, enjoying a Black Label quart or two, discussing nothing much that I can remember. Then suddenly we were awed by the arrival of the eventual winner of the race, Mike Woolnough. He had set out from Pietermaritzburg just 34 hours ago and covered the same distance it had taken us 3.5 days to cover. Mike dropped his bike on the front lawn, ate a quick meal, shared some wild stories from riding through the night, took a 15-minute nap and within 40 minutes of arriving at the support station he was back on his bike, heading for Rhodes. As he left, the five of us looked at each other, shell shocked by what we had just seen. The endurance, resilience, and commitment of these top racers is something we struggled to fathom and comprehend. Seeing it in person made it even more unbelievable than just hearing about it. 

On paper, day 5 looked quite easy; only 60 kms of distance to cover with some nice single-track descents along the way; lots to look forward to I thought. I was taken aback when one of the experienced riders in our group said we should budget 11 hours “What? That's not what the navigation narrative suggests and that’s less than 6km per hour” I argued. Lo and behold, he was right! Even though there were some epic single-track downhill sections that had all of us whooping and hollering, there were also some long, hot, difficult climbs through remote valleys and some really tricky, un-rideable descents off nothing less than a cliff face. So in the end, the eleven-hour prediction was pretty much spot on. At 4 pm we arrived at Vuvu, the overnight stop that is “famous” for its bucket showers, and home accommodations. We gathered at the local school where we got food to eat and hot water in buckets to shower. Then at around 7 pm, we were introduced to our local hosts who took us to their homes to sleep for the night. While I was skeptical and a little nervous of invading another family’s home, I was made to feel extremely welcome and comfortable, and I ended up having the best night of sleep of the whole trip -  a simple, yet extremely enjoyable pleasure.   

That good night of sleep was a godsend because, on the final day of the race, the major obstacle is Lehana’s Pass, one of the revered and highly feared sections of the Freedom Trail. Almost every person who has done this section of the Freedom Trail has a ‘Lehana’s story’. It is a historic donkey trading route up to Naude's Nek, the third highest point in South Africa. To state that there is a ‘route’ up Lehana’s is a gross overstatement. It’s just a very, very large mountain that one needs to scale with a bicycle. The so-called ‘route’ up is approximately 8.4 kilometers and takes at least 5 hours; assuming you get the navigation right (which many do not). The history of the race is littered with legendary stories of people getting stuck and lost on Lehana’s. Luckily by this stage of the race, I had come to seriously embrace the idea of ‘desirable difficulties’, and I was lapping all the ‘simple pleasures’ that the trail had to offer. The views as we scaled Lehana’s were nothing short of exquisite, the higher we ascended the further we could see; as we neared the pinnacle is felt like we were on top of the entire Drakensberg range. It was an effort just trying to take it all in. On reaching the summit, one of the members of our group reminded us that it was Father’s Day and all of us had a sentimental moment thinking about our families as we sat atop the world. The descent down to Rhodes from there was pure joy, as was the feeling of finishing this magnificent event. Yet the joy of finishing was coupled with more than just a tinge of real sadness to have to leave the trail and go back to real life. Yet the lessons of the trail are so important in real life: the lessons that difficulties foster learning, engagement and growth and that appreciating the simple things can create a whole new perspective. What more could I learn, I wonder, if I tackled the entire 2300 km of the Freedom Trail from Pietermaritzburg to Wellington, in the Race Across South Africa?

RASA 2019 Reflection - by Philip Erasmus

Freedom Challenge RASA 2019 Reflection

So what do you say after such an epic journey? The Freedom Challenge motto of Adventure Guaranteed was achieved. This was a journey that was very adventurous and I had a great adventure. My expectation from the race was fulfilled. Having done it before in 2014, I knew what I was letting myself in for and this time was even better. This year my aim was to be the first 70 year old to complete this challenge.

My original plan was to ride 19 and half days, and I managed to keep to that schedule all the way. I was greatly helped in achieving this objective by the people of Group two, with whom I departed from Pietermaritzburg on 18 June. Up to Rhodes we rode as a unit, and although there were some splits towards the end of some of the days, we always gathered together again at the end of the day and planned the next day’s start as a unit. This was reduced to six as Sarah was always only going as far as Rhodes and RG du Toit had a plane to catch!

From Rhodes the six of us stuck together up to Jakkalsfontein, where cracks stated to appear. My schedule had the next stop as Toekomst, but some of the people in the group wanted a shorter day. Willem Kamstra also decided to follow his own strategy and left us. Johan Radcliffe and myself decided to split from the other three after Struishoek and had a fantastic ride together from there on.

What can I say about Johan Radcliffe! This guy, who made it very clear at the briefing that we do not share the same religious believes, did more for me during the rest of the journey than anybody could expect from his best and most loyal friend, and we only met on 17 June for the first time! Our relationship started forging when we were the only two who decided to go around and cross the Umkomaas on the bridge and not get our feet wet by walking through the river. He is 20 years younger than me and could have left me whenever he felt like it, but he liked this “old man’s” race schedule and strategy and decided to sick with me. Every now and then he would leave me and skittle up a hill or down the road, only to wait for me to catch up again a little later. When we encountered head winds, he would spend more time in front, but we also worked together quite well on a number of occasions by rotating every kilometer. Sometimes I did not know where the strength came from, but I managed to do my share. We had a wonderful time together, stopping for snacks and chatting as we cycled along. Johan is great conversationist and loves talking. I tend to listen more, but we gelled! He would share his mussels or sardines with me and I would share my biltong and droëwors with him. We became a great team and I really enjoyed his company!

Then came Stettyns. I had my doubts and fears about getting up the last hill of Stettyns and as it turned out, it was not unfounded. By this stage, my strength was low and I really had trouble getting up that hill. A while before we got to that point, Johan saw that I was struggling with carrying my bike. He then suggested that I take my saddlebag, which weighed about 5 kg (probably the same weight as Johan’s rucksack), off and he stuffed it into his rucksack and carried it for the rest of the way. During the first half of the final hill, Johan would carry his bike some way up the hill, leave it there and then come back and take my bike up to his bike, while I struggle up the hill. This carried on until we were half way up, when Leon Erasmus, my brother’s son and a racing snake who joined us at 02:00 that morning, appeared on top of the hill. He directed us, but seeing how I was struggling, came down and carried my bike up the rest of the way. I am not sure if I would have made it up that hill without this help!

Leon Erasmus said that he would stay with me once he caught up with me and was true to his word. It is a bit of a shame that it only happened at the top of Stettyns as I would have loved to spend more time in his company, but it was a great joy to do the last number of kilometers in one another’s company and cross the finish line together. It must also have been a great feeling for my brother to be able to witness and experience this.

The low point of my journey was when I crashed on the hill down towards Killian Pass just before Rossouw. That could have ended my race, but I came through with only a brased knee and no headlight. Here I must thank Harko de Boer, who lent me his second light for the rest of the journey.

At the end of something as mammoth as this, there must be some thank yous! The first must go to my wonderful wife Sue, who was at the other end of the line every night when we had cell phone or wi-fi and we could phone her. Initially she was not too keen on me doing this grueling race again, but after I completed it she said she was glad I did it and that she was proud of what I achieved! Her encouragement carried me daily. Also all the people on my WhatsApp Group with their positive commentary! That helped me to make sure I do not disappoint them. The race organisers for putting up and excellent event again. We were blessed with the most wonderful weather! We had a number of difficult days with the wind, but generally the weather was just about perfect. There were a number of days when I just had to hang in there and give my best to survive! My motto then was "we shall prevail" and prevailed we did!

I must also thank the Lord Jesus Christ for giving me the strength; faith and self believe to achieve this journey. I worked out a schedule and in spite of some very difficult days, managed to keep to it right to the end.

Total time 19 days 13 hours 55 minutes; total riding time 247 hours 34 minutes; total distance 2,168 kilometers; 33,195 meters of climbing; average speed 8.74 k.p.h.; fastest day 11.92 from Willowmore to Prince Albert; slowest day 3,62 from Trouthaven to Diemersfontein via Stettynskloof; longest day 170 km from Kudukaya, Cambria to Willowmore at 170 km; shortest day Hadley to Kudukaya via the Osseberg and Grootriver at 48 km, which was also to second slowest day; lonest day 16 hours 28 minutes from Prince Albert to Rouxpos via Gamkaskloof and the Ladder; shortest day 8 hours 9 minutes from Vuvu to Rhodes via Mcambalala and Naudesnek Pass at 8 hours and 9 minutes.