POV edit from Mike Woolnough's RTR footage. Edit by Llewellyn Loloyd Reblex Photography
Monday, 24 June 2019
Friday, 5 April 2019
Freedom Challenge: The Ultimate Mountain Bike Adventure Endurance Event By Greg Fisher
“I am not a mountain biker!” Although I have enjoyed many endurance activities including running, road cycling, paddling and triathlons for the better part of my adult life, I don’t identify as a mountain biker and have never done a major, multi day mountain bike race. Mountain biking it too technical, too scary, too dangerous and the learning curve always seemed too steep for me to ever really embrace it.
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.”
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.”
Thursday, 7 September 2017
RTR 2017 Video - by Chris Fisher
Luke Murray and Chris Fisher's 2017 Race to Rhodes. A mountain bike adventure from Pietermaritzburg to Rhodes in the Eastern Cape, South Africa which takes place every year in June.
Monday, 10 July 2017
RASA 2017 - by Marnitz Nienaber
So sit ek bykans twee weke later en top oor die jaar se Challenge, my vinnigste tot op datum. Kyk vanjaar moes nie eers gewees het nie, as Handelaarshoof van Vredendal Toyota moet daar eers 'n paar goedjies in plek val en om 50+ mensies gelukkig te hou gebeur nie altyd so maklik nie, veral nie as jy in die voorafgaande maand 'n paar nuwe aanstellings maak nie. Die mensies moet mekaar eers vind en baie gelukkig is ek bevoorreg om 'n reg span mense saam met my te kan hê en het hulle mekaar gevind en baie goed presteer terwyl ek op my fietsie deur die land gereis het.
Om in Vredendal te oefen is nie maklik nie, dis nie plat nie en dan spring die kwik diep in die veertigs in, soms haal dit sommer vyftig, ek dink spesifiek aan een Sondag wat die beplanning was om 'n baie lange te doen, wel na 6 ure en 110 km het my rit ge-eindig teen 'n gemiddelde tempratuur van 48 Grade. Ek was gedihidreer en wou nie meer die lou water in my bottel drink nie, die Ingelsman gebel en gesmeek om my te kom haal, ek kon eenvoudig nie meer nie...... Die groot nadeel van die hitte is dat jy daaraan gewoont raak, op dit seker manier maak dit jou hard, maar as dit -11 word is daar bykans 'n verkil van 60 Grade en dan vrek jy van die koue. Ek het al nagte buite geslaap op die race, maar ek kan in alle eerlikheid sê, dis nog die koudste wat ek gekry het.
Dan het Vredendal storm winde, kyk in Klerksdorp waai die wind altyd, matigend, maar in Vredendal is daar tekens van Windwaaiers, hier Storm die wind, maal dit met slegte sand paaie en 40 Grade plus en skaap chops en brannewyn en coke saam met die gasvryheid van die kontrei en jy het 'n lekker resep om nie te oefen nie, wat dan ook so die geval was. Ek het myself met drawwery besig gehou in Desember, in Januarie so bietjie begin besighou met die fiets, maar eers werklik suutjies begin oefen toe ek oorslaan na oggend ry wanneer die nie so blaas nie. Ek was op 'n stadium heel uit die race, die min oefen, lang ure by die werk en die gasvryheid van die kontrei het net teveel geraak, ek het vir Meryl laat weet, wat dit net eenvoudig nie wou aanvaar nie.
En so gebalsem met die vetjies vind ek myself toe op die startline een vroeë oggend in Junie, meer en deels die gevolg van Meryl se hardnekkigheid, JT en Mike wat ek op die recce vergesel het, wat my aanhou por het om deel te neem. Moet sê die recce het ek as 'n toets van my fiksheid gesien en die krampe op die eerste dag het die werklikheid weergegee, maar ook die lus in my wakker gemaak en JT se woorde van pace jouself net het in my agterkop vasgesteek.
Moet erken die eerste paar dae het maar bars gegaan, vir my heeltyd gevoel of ek myself weer alleen op die tandem bevind het en ek moes myself maar baie mooi pace, my grootste voordeel was die roete kennis, een ding minder om oor te worry.
So het ek myself maar dag vir dag gepace in die hoop dat ek fiks sou wees wanneer ek in Rhodes sou aankom, ek moes maar ook op bolip byt wanneer daar agtervolgers in die omgewing was, gelukkig het die spekkies dit baie maklik gemaak.
Soos in 'n vorige jaar herenig ek en Tim weer in Slaapkranz, ek en die man, moet ek sê verstaan mekaar en ry bitter lekker saam, ons weet wanneer om te trap en wanneer om te praat, ek was seker fiks in Rhodes maar die koue het my teruggehou, maar van Slaapkranz kon ek voel ek het die tandem afgeskud, die Rush het spoed gesoek al was dit teen die wind, ek wou net jaag. Ek en Tim het 'n baie goeie verstandhouding, albei baie verstand en baie houding en ons het die kilo's opgerol, soms saam mekaar en soms alleen om dan net weer saam te ry. Dit was vir my 'n baie groot eer en voorreg om sy sewende kombers aan hom te oorhandig en ek glo hy het die gevoel gedeel met die oorhandiging van my kombers. Ons het dit eintlik een vroeë oggend in die Osseberg besluit en dit gestand gedoen, wat 'n voorreg om die race met my mentor te kon deel !!!
Ek wonder soms hoekom ek so vroeg in die middernagtelike ure weggetrek het en in die vriesende koue oggend ure ingery het, my plan was om deur die nag te ry en dan in die vroeë oggend ure hinderlaag te lê, wanner ek die support station vir myself het. Die oorsaak was tweeledig, ek het die eerste aan vroeg gestop by Centocow wat my van daar in 'n roetine gegooi het, dit en die feit dat die volmaan eers laatnag opgekom het. Die volmaan maak 'n baie groot verskil in nag navigasie en nadat die volmaan plek gemaak het vir donkermaan was ek reeds in 'n roetine van tuseen 2-3 ure slaap en dan opstaan en ry.
Daar is net twee maal van die 2-3 uur slaap roetine afgesien, eerste keer by Slaapkranz waar ek amper verkluim het oppad soontoe en die tweede keer in Gamkaskloof waar die visgraat maneuver my teruggehou het.
Die res van die tyd was dit maar net min slaap, maar 2-3 ure slaap verrig wondere en 'n 25 minute catnap iewers onder 'n bos, wat vir baie vermaaklikheid gesorg het tussen die ander manne, soveel te meer. Ek dink spesifiek aan 'n geval in die Perdepoort, Tim was so ent voor my en het 'n 25 minute dekking geneem in die sonnetjie langs die pad, met my verbykomslag het die sing van die wiele hom wakker gemaak, hy wou nog so bietjie rus, met die volgende paar wiele wat verbykom het hy opgestaan, die manne ingehaal en weer verbygegaan. So 10 km verder het ek dit nodig geag om dekking te slaan, Tim se wiele het my eerste wakker gemaak en daarna die span agtervolgers, wat so in die mou gelag het vir die sogenaamde racing snakes wat hulle elke nou en dan onder 'n boom vind.
Ja as 'n man moeg is, is 'n man moeg en as jy jou oge toemaak is die skakelaar af en dan slaap jy eensklaps, so maklik soos dit. Dit bring my by die baie spesiale mense langs die roete, die support stations, lugpunte in 'n baie donker nag, moet sê dis nou al familie, ek het my eie kamer in elke huis en ek kry nogal voordele wat almal seker nie kry nie. Daar is 'n paar van die plekke wat my race plan heer verongeluk, ek weet ek moet verby, maar steek altyd vas, ek weet ek moet slaap, maar gesels altyd te lekker en ek weet ek moet opstaan, maar geniet altyd die laaste greinstjie vrienskap. Vir 7 jaar doen ek al aan by hulle en vir 7 jaar dra hulle my op die hande, baie opvallend is hoe vinnig die kinders groei, ek onthou vir klein Andrètjie wat bal gespeel het met my eerste visgraat maneuver en nou is hy 'n groot man wat my inwag op 'n perd, Sandra en Diederik, Wil en Stephanie se pragtige dogters, daai tyd op skool, nou amper op trou. Tyd vlieg, ek voel nie ouer nie, die ouers lyk ook nie vir my ouer nie, maar die kinders word groot.......
My eie kinders ook, hulle belangstelling in die ondekkende race geprikkel deur my jare se ervarings word ook groter. Alison en Danielle wil die ervaring saam met hul Pa deel, en die dag se aanbreek is nie vêr nie, hopelik is ek uitgerus teen daai tyd. Dit sal vir my 'n groot voorreg wees om die ervaring met hulle te kan deel, twee taai meisiekinners daai.
Ondersteuning is baie belangrik op die race, die kleinste kortste boodskappie is goud werk en as jy so dan en wan nog 'n gesels ook kan inkry, soveel te beter. Dankie my wonderlike vrou, kinders, familie en vriende vir julle ondersteuning, dit was regtig lekker om so elke nou en dan in die seinlose wonder wêreld van julle te kon hoor.
Die Freedom Challenge is 'n nederige race, en as jy nie nederig is nie, sal die Liewe Vader jou op jou kniee dwing en sorg dat Moeder Natuur jou nederig maak. Die hele race selfs Modor is asemrowend mooi en soms is dit net nodig om vir 'n oomblik stil se sit en God se Almag te ervaar, en dis dit wat die race vir my so bitter spesiaal maak.....
Twee weke later nadat ek klaar gemaak het, is my vingerpunte en my toontjies steeds dood, die visgraat hak nogsteeds in my pens, seker nie gewoont aan die snaakse kos wat ek nou eet nie, ek is 8 kg ligter, die blaas op my hak het verander in 'n moerse eelt, my kniee glad nie meer seer nie, ek sweet nog so nou en dan in die nag, droom nie meer ek is iewers op die pad besig om te race nie en dan wonder ek so terwyl ek die sterre beskou gaan ek ooit weer ry ???
Ek en Tim het mekaar die oggend in die Osseberg belowe ons is nou klaar, net hierdie enetjie klaar maak, want 6 is die duiwel se getal en die race het duur geword, pepper duur, uitgelewer aan 'n paar bevoorregtes. Dis nie net jou inskrywing nie, dis jou klere, jou fiets, jou bokse, vliegkaartjies, verblyf aan die einde en nog 'n hele span jakalsies wat geld vreet. Dis 'n jammerte, want toe ek my sommetjies maak vir 'n dubbel inskrywing saam met een van my dogters, toe weet ek sommer die tyd om te begin spaar het nou aangebreek.
En tog ten spyte van die kostes, wonder ek reeds oor watter tipe dyno hub ek moet gebruik, watter skoene ek volgende keer kan gebruik en oor wanneer die volgende keer gaan wees, want jy sien elke jaar belowe ek, ek is klaar en dan kom die kat weer en vind ek myself weer op die startline......
Sunday, 23 April 2017
Race to Cradock 2017 - by George Evans
Race to Cradock 2017 - 6 days adventuring by MTB through the Eastern Cape, South Africa
Wednesday, 10 August 2016
The Freedom Challenge – Solo Adventure Racing - by Tim Deane
What a ride, what a journey, what an experience! The Freedom Challenge - Race Across South Africa is tailor-made for adventure racers and many more of us should be embracing this event. There are a number of well-written articles and blogs that give beautifully detailed descriptions of the route, landscape and fabulous people on the trail. I present my simple account of the 2016 experience, as a newbie. By TIM DEANE
I woke with a start. Bugger! I’d overslept. I knew that if I left Hadley by 04:00 I would be safely through the gate. However, after sharing a breakfast with Liehann at Hadley, I had decided to have a quick catnap and unfortunately woke 2 hours later at 05:45. Adrenalin coursed through my body as I flew out the door, figuring that I had blown my chances (‘the gate’, a new feature in the 2016 event, is 30 minutes on from Cambria, closes at 14:00 and only re-opens at 06:00). Two hours later, I’d started down the overgrown and rutted jeep track down to the Grootrivier. It is a spectacular descent that demands concentration and is a fitting prelude to the main attraction of this section. I was fired up by the challenge of making it through the legendary lost world of the Osseberg track, and still trying to pull off the gate cut-off! This would keep me in contention for a sub-13 day finish.
There was an urgency to every minute and after stashing all items in my dry bag, I lowered myself down the bank about 600m downstream of the first crossing (an attempted, but unsuccessful, short-cut). The river was waist deep here and I struggled to scramble up the steep opposite bank and through thick undergrowth to the faint track shown on the map. I resolved from then on to stick to the track, which was easier said than done. The following 2 hours were consumed in a focussed progression over a further 5 crossings. My nav was going nicely despite difficult path-finding and other obstacles such as the heinous cactuses which seem intent on attacking all who pass. Three crossings remained as I rounded the northern-most point of the track, and at 11:40 I was starting to believe that I would just make the cut-off.
I took a quick breather for some food before the final push, but as I put my backpack down I immediately noticed that the top pouch was unzipped and empty! My snacks and the all-important tracker were missing. The body blow floored me. In a state of panic, I charged back along the route hoping to find the tracker. At the 3rd repeated crossing close to a ruin, I found a chocolate bar floating forlornly in the river. A grid-search in the cold murky water revealed nothing except slippery smooth rocks as my fingers soon went numb. Still refusing to accept the loss I went further up the track to where I’d previously opened the zip for a snack, just in case. Nothing.
I yelled out in frustration! It was a despondently slow trudge onwards, and after crossing the game fence, I picked up cellphone signal to get a message out to race office and dot-watching family and friends. I was gutted and just sat in the sun for a while.
Day 1 was epic! 5000m of cumulative climbing over 200km of cycling in 15.5 hours from Pietermaritzburg to Ntsikeni. It was physically tough, but after getting over this intense start, the next couple of days went smoothly. I was navigating well and enjoying riding with Theo. However, my body took a beating with the long hours of riding. I battled with tendonitis in my right wrist and developed a chest infection, also known as ’freedom lung’. Riding with company was entertaining, but early out of Rhodes on day 4 our group blew apart in the light drizzle with Theo seizing the gap, Bruce riding steadily, and me lagging behind. I’d known from the start that this was the kind of event that could easily put best laid plans to waste. No plan can ably deal with the distance, the weather, illness, mechanicals, injuries, poor recovery, sleepiness, the difference in day-time vs. night-time speeds, sleepmonsters, navigation and the risk of getting lost or taking long-cuts. This all adds to the complexity of this beautiful challenge. I was happy to aim for a reasonable start, just roll with the punches, adjust the plan on the fly, listen to my body and enjoy the trail.
The three portages of Kapokkraal, Slaapkrantz, and Loutrebron went pretty well, although darkness engulfed me on the saddle between Loutrebron and Bontehoek. A tricky descent and a stop-start struggle through sandy farm fields and over and along multiple fences ensued. I eventually made it to the small town of Rossouw at around 8pm, where my wheels came off properly. The relatively easy 200m-over-10km-climb out of Rossouw felt like the 4th and toughest portage of the day! I wheezed, coughed, walked, and stopped my way up the climb over an eternal 3.5 hours. My chest was closing up in the evening cold air and felt like I was operating on half a lung. Moordenaarspoort was a welcome oasis as I dragged my sorry state inside after 23:00.
Day 5 dawned and it was bitterly cold. I remember stopping in the middle of the 392 district road across from the school at Swempoort and shoving my feet (shoes still on) into my backpack to try get my toes warmed up. I sent some photos and messages to family and friends. Being in contact from time to time is an interesting facet of the race. It is awesome to get messages of support which definitely boost energy and motivation. Also, sharing news of hardships and curveballs seems to draw a line under these so that you can move on. My day ended up ok as I reached Romansfontein at 8:30pm. Here the host family crowded around me in their kitchen as we chatted about the craziness of it all, between mouthfuls of delicious food. The hosting along the route is incredible and the personalities and their life stories are a rich tapestry. I felt criminally rude to be rushing through 2 stops a day and vowed that I’d be back for a more leisurely ride with enough time to really appreciate the fine hosting. Wishing my hosts goodnight I found an empty bed amongst the riders who were fast asleep. Apparently my bad chest and blocked nose combined to unleash some horrendous snoring. Sorry folks!
Disaster hit at 03:00 on day 6 when my bike light refused to switch on after the electronics failed. I was annoyed as it was something I couldn’t fix, and I had to make do with just a headlamp for the rest of the race. The light, 2 battery packs and charger were now dead weight. Bruce and I worked our way up Aasvoëlberg together and shared news from the trail. He chose the track over the high point while I contoured around left and we met again as he came hurtling down.
But luck and skill deserted me moments later as I strayed too close to a dry dead shrub which got stuck in between my derailleur and spokes. A working bike light might have helped to avoid this. The same could be said for better steering! The grating noise gave me the heads-up that it was not a pretty sight. Shit! Annoyance gave way to bewilderment. The hanger was ironically unscathed since I was carrying a spare. The XTR carbon cage holding the jockey wheels was in pieces, the main body of the derailleur had some damage and 2 spokes were dented, but ok (I don’t normally go for carbon parts but that’s how it came when I picked up my 2nd hand Niner a few months earlier). Attention to the minutest of details and opting for the more robust and reliable components should be the mantra in a race of this length but hindsight is an easy science. While wondering what I should do, the cold wind suggested an urgent escape from up high would be best, so I removed chain and derailleur, taped the cable down and freewheeled the 6km down to Magdala farmhouse. Here I found shelter behind a ruin and opted to nap my troubles away. I woke an hour later to daylight and set about creating a single speed.
The first 5km on the move was a sluggish ride as I experimented with different gearing ratios. A sudden appearance of riders behind me triggered feelings of comradeship and comfort that I was not alone in this challenge. Envy and false bravado soon followed as I realised I wouldn’t be able to keep up with them on my single-speed and that I was feeling down but didn’t want to show it. At that same time, I yearned for some sympathy, even if they couldn’t help. But Wait! They could indeed help me!! Ann and Grant casually mention that Brad is carrying a spare derailleur and as he and Scott pull up I strain to contain my excitement and relief, not wanting to jump to conclusions that he’d actually part with his prized spare. “So Brad, I hear…”
Brad’s an absolute gent and I’m very lucky to be back in business, for the day ahead at least. In the words of Steve Burnett: “Who the hell carries a spare derailleur??!!!! That's a lot of beer you owe him now. Good thing it was the right speed.“ The pie at Karoobos coffee shop in Hofmeyer with Scott is immensely satisfying, after which we ride together to Elandsberg and on to Newlands. On the way I stopped near a lone buffalo about 20m off the trail. I needed to check map distance to which Scott chirped “Do you think you can do that a little further along?” The Newlands stop was warm and festive and I enjoyed being a bit more social. I’d been in contact with Johann and Meryl at race office who kindly organised for a derailleur to arrive late morning at Newlands. I got busy stripping and cleaning Brad’s spare before passing out on the couch.
Johann, Meryl and Glenn combine to create a very effective race organisation team and ensure a fantastic race experience for all riders. Their live race coverage and fine spirit manifest as a sincere interest in how your race is going. Not to mention their resourceful problem-solving and managing the challenging logistics in a race where front and back of the field can be separated by more than 1000km! I was massively motivated to ride hard again by the time my replacement part arrived as promised. It was now just over 6 days into the race and 3 days had gone according to plan, and 3 days not so well! I’d lost about 2/3 of a day with chest trouble, the bike lights and the derailleur. At this point, I’d mentally checked out of racing Bruce, Theo and the trio of batch G riders Tim, Mike and Liehann, having figured I’d lost too much time. The major motivator was now a Saturday evening finish and I sensed this was under threat. The restriction of the Baviaans Reserve gate closing time (14:00) was looming large and consequently, Hadley by 04:00 on Tuesday was a key target. I was worried though that even making it through 4 sections in 1.5 days to Bucklands was going to be too tough, never mind getting through to Hadley.
Grootdam came sooner than expected after a quick “Hi-Bye” to Pierre on the approach to Skurftebergkop. The serenity of solo riding was starting to take a hold of me and I forged up the Struishoek portage in the dark after having made a complete mess of the start. I had passed the Grootvlakte buildings and ended up too far south - exploring animal tracks, thorny dongas, and climbing over a game fence before finally finding the riverbed and the road further up. The relief of being back on track half an hour later merged with the irritation of wasted effort and time. There are just so many opportunities to leak time on this race! The rest of the portage went well, but was definitely quite challenging and slow in the dark. I arrived in a drizzle at Gegun and noticed my front shock was locked out and had a damaged remote-lockout coupling-clamp which I guess was due to the portage or a fence crossing. It was 03:30 and some sleep would have been great but I was forced to trade this for fixing time. I needed to make a plan and I borrowed both Ann and Grant’s multi-tools while they got ready to leave after their sleep. The clamp was bent and wouldn’t stay seated. And without tension the shock defaulted to ‘locked-out’. I cursed the poor design – surely the failure mode should be an active shock? Duct tape came to the rescue as I eventually Mcguyver’ed the lockout into a fully tensioned and permanently active position. Throughout this ordeal I could feel that I was thinking, moving and problem-solving far too slowly. 2 hours whizzed by before I was ready to head out the door again.
A tough, hot and windy day of riding followed and included a nap under a thorny bush near Darlington Dam wall. The Gwaas valley was a definite low point for me - incredibly tedious and pretty ugly. The slow and bumpy track and the game fences were a real challenge and my pace and enjoyment only improved as I neared Kleinpoort in the cool early evening. Bucklands arrived soon enough after that and good hospitality and tiredness kept me there till 10pm. The final push to Hadley took longer than expected and I arrived after 02:30, buggered. 370km in 38 hours with two catnaps will do that to you. Liehann joined me in the kitchen on his way out and I opted for that ‘20 minute’ nap…
When you have too much time on your hands you do things inefficiently. The wait for the gate opening at Cambria provided some rejuvenation, although I could have used this time better.
At 05:30 the following day it was ‘once more unto the breach’ as I toured the Baviaanskloof with Grant and Anne to reach Willowmore after nightfall. It was then on to Prince Albert, a measly 160km of cycling through the night and into the following day. Up the dramatic Prince Albert Pass with it’s beautiful rock formations and into ‘Die Hell’. I was feeling strong, until a heavy sleepiness caught me unawares and I passed out midway through an eerily quiet solo dinner in Gamkaskloof. A short sleep morphed into a long sleep. Again. 11 days down and I still had 400km ahead of me.
After that I was on a home-bound mission. The next two days flew by incredibly quickly. Rouxpos for some famous waffles, Anysberg at pace, Montagu in the dark, McGregor in the early morning mist and arrival at Trouthaven after midday. So close to home, but Stettynskloof beckoned as a most fitting final obstacle. ‘Stettyns’ is the mother of all hike-a-bikes. It is a massively overgrown, protea-bush-infested kloof which claims everyone’s sense of humour, multiple items of gear and the odd bicycle. It’ll take you 8 hours in daylight to cover 10km, if you know what you’re doing.
At 2pm I rolled out of Trouthaven and headed into the kloof, chasing daylight. Most people start this section at dawn. I did not have that luxury and had just enough light to find my way through the over-grown boulder scree section, which to my mind is the crux. I battled to judge distance in the dark while working my way further up the valley and lost track of how many drainages I’d clambered through. My left big toe was in agony from the shoe upper pressing down hard on the nail bed with every step and I fixated on the thought of getting back onto rideable track again and ending the pain. The battle continued up the valley and feeling that the exit point was close, I crossed over the stream and started up the other side. My judgement was poor and I had gone too early. Pretty soon I was cliffed-out and battling to find breaks that would allow me to ascend a bit here, and traverse a bit there. It was a slog that dragged on for ages and yet felt so close to completion for much of the time. Some sketchy parts involved hoisting the bike up onto the steeply angled slope above, hoping it would stay, while clambering around it holding onto tufts of grass. These were the types of moves best done at night, when you couldn’t see how bad the exposure was.
Eventually at around 23:00 I topped out and then dropped about 50m again to the neck before continuing on the mapped route. The physical and mental shutdown had begun and I’d run out of food. It took a further very slow 5 hours to get through Fisantekraal, up Du Toit’s Kloof Pass and down through the mist to Diemersfontein. I can’t quite account for what happened during this time as it should have taken me closer to 2 hours. I was in a complete daze. Incredible relief washed over me as I finally crossed the line at 03:55 in 12 days, 22 hours. Having my girlfriend Didi, sister Kerry and brother-in-law Paul meet me at the finish was helluva special! Even more so considering how the last bit of tracking must have been like watching paint dry. A huge thanks to Johann, Meryl and Glenn for also welcoming me in and for the part they played in making this an unforgettable journey.
To the AR’ers out there, you will love this challenging explorative traverse of our awesome country!! Previous riders from the AR family have inspired many and include the likes of Martin and Jeannie Dreyer, Steve Burnett, Trevor Ball, Ugene Nel, Graham Bird, Tatum Prins, Chris and Julia Fisher to name but a few. I hope my story adds to this, convincing a few more of us to tackle the trail and enjoy the freedom. Come join the Clan of Blanket Wearers!
Friday, 5 August 2016
Vuvu before Nightfall - by Gareth Ochse
A big challenge like the Race to Rhodes isn’t something one does on a whim. It’s something that enters your head –initially as madness or hearsay, and gradually the worm grows, the what-ifs become could-I’s, and at some point,the entry is made,and the race fees are paid. Then the training begins.
Read full report here...
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