The Freedom Challenge - by Mike Ward

The Freedom Challenge

Within the diverse and growing tribe of mountain bikers there is a small clan known as the ‘blanket wearers’. They have taken up one of the greatest challenges in mountain biking: to ride 2300km across South Africa through some of the most beautiful and remote parts of KwaZulu-Natal, the Eastern Cape and the Western Cape. The trail, known as the Freedom Trail, has riders in awe as it links together district roads, farm tracks, old wagon routes, cattle tracks and sometimes no track at all. A number of events take place along this magical thread across our country. The best known is the Race Across South Africa (also commonly known as the Freedom Challenge) that takes place in mid-winter (June/ July) each year.

Legend has it that way back in 2003, David Wadilove ran from Cape Town to Pietermaritzburg to compete in the Comrades Marathon. As he went he chatted to local inhabitants and pieced together a route that sought to stay off tar roads and traverse as many natural areas as possible. The following year David, along with his brother and a friend, ran the Comrades and then rode the trail from Pietermaritzburg to Wellington before paddling the Berg Canoe marathon. And so began one of the greatest mountain bike trails in South Africa. An increasing number of national and international participants discover its natural beauty and generous hospitality each year.

In numbers the challenge looks daunting: 2300km (if you don’t get too lost), 37 000m of ascent, 26 support stations and 83 maps with which to navigate. And you need to carry 8-10kgs of clothes and spares with you. But the numbers do little to give a sense of the scale of the undertaking. Without GPS you are forced to stop and look at your surroundings as you find your route with carefully prepared 1:50 000 maps, a narrative description of the route, a simple bike computer and a trusty compass. This can add hours to each day’s riding and ensures that long ridges like Lehana’s Pass or valleys like Baviaanskloof, Gamkaskloof and Stettynskloof are etched in your imagination long before you get to them and remain there for years after.

The vast majority of the route is rideable but there is usually a section each day that requires that you push the bike or put it on your back and carry it. These portages have a fearsome reputation and some such as Lehana’s Pass over the Drakensberg, the Osseberg into Bavianskloof, Die Leer out of Die Hel and Stettynskloof in the *** are spoken about in hushed tones whenever blanket wearers get together.

So how does a mountain biker survive along the Freedom Trail? Very well actually as one of the greatest achievements of this trail is to bring together some of the most welcoming and generous hosts that it has ever been my good fortune to meet. There are 26 support stations and a number of intermediate stops spread across the country at 50-100km intervals. These vary from farm houses, to game lodges, to rural schools and communities, to hotels, to historic missions. What does not vary is the unbelievable commitment of the hosts who seem to never sleep as riders arrive at all hours needing food, a shower, warm beds and laundry washed and dried before early departures. As guests in these support stations it is obvious that we benefit from years of relationship-building by the race organisers and previous riders. And it is this chance to interact with such a diversity of people that makes the Freedom Challenge as much a cultural experience as it is a ride through such a diversity of ecosystems.

But this is also a race and while only a few people each year are racing to win, many of us set our own personal challenges – not just to finish but to finish in a time that gets us up early and enjoying our bikes all day long. The length of each day is entirely up to each individual rider. Essentially this is a one-stage stage race. From the time you start in Pietermaritzburg, the clock starts ticking and it does not stop until you finish at Diemersfontein wine estate in Wellington near Cape Town. This means that any time you spend sleeping or eating or sorting out bike maintenance issues, all add to your final finishing time. The current record holder, Martin Dreyer (7 times Dusi canoe marathon winner), finished in 10 days 16 hours and averaged 2-3 hours of sleep per day throughout this time. The 2015 race winner, Tim James, spent less than 80 hours in support stations over the 13 days 7 hours that it took him to win. Interestingly, Andrew Barnes (who came second by just 30 minutes) rode faster between support stations but then spent almost twice as long recovering and enjoying the hospitality at the support stations.

Somewhere between the racing snakes and the 26 day cut-off is where the vast majority of the riders set their personal challenge. For most this means sticking to the support stations from Pietermaritzburg to Rhodes Village (6 support stations) and then doubling up on some of the easier days through the Karoo. At present the average finishing time is 20 days. There will always be those who seek to maximise the time on the trail and the hospitality of the support stations (but here are several cutoffs along the route). And there are those who enjoy the challenge of early starts and late finishes as they push through two and occasionally three support stations in a day.

So what would an average day look like for somebody who sets out with a 17-day target? Firstly a target below 24 days is going to require a substantial amount of riding in the dark. With about 10 hours of light, navigation is always going to be a big consideration as it gets so much harder to orientate yourself in the dark. As you push for a time under 20 days there will be many days that start with 2-3 hours of riding before first light and often go 2-3 hours into the dark in the evening. Although temperatures may well be below -10C, the magnificent night skies visible from the dark remote parts of the trail more than make up for the cold. Watching sunrise and then sunset as you pedal your way across the country day after day is a bit of an acquired taste, but it can soon become something that you seek out and savour. Despite the joy of cycling, arriving at a support station provides another kind of joy. Here you collect a 2litre ice cream container that you packed weeks before; the race organisers and Aramex courier company deliver these to each of the support stations. Filled with snacks, bum cream, bike spares, maps for the next section of trail, notes of support from family and other paraphernalia, these are opened and traded each evening. Also on offer at the support stations are delicious home-cooked meals, hot showers, warm beds, laundry facilities and great company. Squirt provides chainlube, bike wash and bum cream for free along the trail which helps to keep bike and body in working order.

Every rider will no doubt have different parts of the trail that have special significance. This year, the snow as many of the earlier batches went past Rhodes Village, gave the southern Drakensberg mountains a quiet purity that will be remembered by those riders lucky enough to be up there. The Karoo had had good rains prior to the race and it was looking greener than usual. Similarly the rivers in the Osseberg and the Baviaanskloof were flowing strong and clear and the aloes were in full flower through most of the Eastern Cape. As we rode up the Swartberg Pass and into Gamkaskloof (Die Hel) the sun rose onto a green but frozen landscape as the clear nights revealed more stars than we ever imagined existed.

Each rider – no matter if you win the Race Across South Africa or sneak in on day 26 – receives a Basotho blanket and a bottle of Diemersfontein wine. And so it is that 178 of the great mountain biking tribe are known as blanket wearers. This small group has ridden along and over most of the great mountain ranges across South Africa. They have formed great friendships along the trail and met amazing people. They have felt what John Muir so beautifully captured in a quote slipped into one of the ice-cream boxes by my wife: “Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”

For more information on the range of events that take place along the Freedom Trail see www.freedomchallenge.org.za

Adventure Guaranteed - by Lee Fuller

Adventure Guaranteed.

That’s the Freedom Challenge catch phrase. They guarantee an adventure!! Wow, pretty confident of them I thought. What if everything goes according to plan and we have a smooth run? Will it still be an adventure?

21 days. That was our plan, and that’s what it took us. One or two minor mechanicals on our bikes, a sprinkling of snow, a puff of wind and a few drops of rain. No major health issues. Only one small, very small, deviation from the route as we took a wrong turn! So a smooth run in anyone’s books. We were lucky. They say you make your own luck, but we were lucky. Was it still an adventure………..You can bet your house, car and life savings it was. When they say adventure guaranteed, they mean it!

As a very proud blanket owner, I feel I need to give all you mountain bikers some advice on Freedom Challenge.

Ride it.

Stop umming and aahhing. Ride it.

“Is it hard?” you ask. Yes it is.

“Is it very hard?” No it’s not. There are some long portages that are physically taxing, especially because you are used to having your bike under your bum, not on your back. It is along ride, and you will be sore at some stage. But it’s not very hard.

“Will I make it?” Yes you will. Provided you can confidently tick the boxes below:

1. You will make it if you are an average mountain biker.

2. You will make it if you know how to read a map and navigate.

3. You will make it if you know your bike and have a good understanding of the possible mechanicals, and how to fix them.

4. You will make it if you have the right clothing. The weather is a big variable. “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing”.

5. You will make it if you have a very understanding family back home, it’s a long time away.

6. You will make it if you train to ride, walk and carry your bike. Be prepared for being out there the whole day.

7. But most importantly you will make it if your mind is strong, your attitude positive, and your will unwavering. There is no place for doubt and negativity.

“Is it expensive?” No, it is the best value-for-money bike ride on the planet. You do the maths. The cost per day, considering the amazing accommodation, wonderful food, awesome scenery and fantastic riding, is excellent value for money.

We live in an incredible country. Full of incredible people. We are all too hasty to climb on a plane and visit far flung corners of the globe, in search of beauty and splendour and unique cultures. There are places on our doorstep that are breath-taking. There are people that are so warm and generous, you feel embarrassed that you’re passing through so quickly. They are all genuinely proud South Africans, and that makes you very happy. The overnight stops are called “Support Stations”. The lunch stops are called “Emergency Stops”. They should be called “Warm Comfortable Homes Away from Home”. They’re a highlight. They vary from very comfortable B&B’s and guest houses, to remote farm homes, to Zulu homesteads. Each stop as unique as the people who care for you. They are all humble, caring, genuine, uncomplicated, proud people. At every stop. Whether you are grabbing a quick bowl of soup and heading on, or enjoying a three course meal, a few beers and comfy bed, each of these places is truly memorable.

You will make mates on the Freedom Challenge. They should guarantee that too. Amazing what a common goal does for a crowd of riders from all walks of life. Riders come from around the world with very different backgrounds and cultures. Great friends you will make. We were a small group of mates which was wonderful. We got to share the experience together. But no sweat if you’re on your own. You will make mates within hours of leaving PMB. And if you want to ride alone, you can do that too.

I really enjoyed the pace of Freedom Challenge. Even the racing snakes are riding the same speed as you. They just sleep less and ride longer every day. It sometimes takes them a whole day to overtake you! You will rub shoulders with the experienced racers who finish in 12 odd days. You’ll hang out with the nervous novices , and the riders who own more blankets than a Basuthu family. And you’ll pass the slower guys who are taking the full 26 day allocation to get there. And it might take you a day or 2 to get passed them!

It’s a wonderful journey. A chance to unplug from the distractions and pressures of the modern world and worry about real problems. Like food and shelter. It’s a journey that is long, it’s a big trip, in anyone’s books. But anyone can make it. You eat an elephant one mouthful at a time, and that’s just how you ride Freedom Challenge.

It’s an adventure, you can be guaranteed of that. So ride it. Entries open 1 August.

I will be there again, guaranteed.

Freedom Runners 2014 - by Mimi Anderson

FREEDOM RUNNERS 2014

Since I began Ultra running in 2001 I had always wondered whether I would be capable of running over 1,000 miles, I knew at some point it would be something I had to try.

In 2010 I was looking for a big project to get my teeth into and my first choice of country was South Africa, so I asked a few of my equally mad South African friends if they had any bright ideas of routes I could run. There were a few suggestions but one in particular caught my attention – The Freedom Trail, a 2,000 +km route starting in Pietermaritzburg and finishing in Paarl just outside Cape Town – this sounded like the challenge I had been looking for, time to look into it more closely.

Each year in June/July there is a mountain bike race called The Freedom Challenge that takes place along the Freedom Trail, set up by David Waddilove. He has put a huge amount of time and effort into not only finding the route but also getting the support of the local communities.

With great anticipation and excitement on the 24th September 2014 Samantha Gash and I started a journey neither of us will ever forget, running 2,000km over 32 days along the along the beautiful Freedom Trail.

The planning that went into this project was huge! It took over two years and as well as trying to get the funding for the expedition and charity, which you can imagine, in this current economic climate was really tough; there was also the logistical side of the expedition; this was extremely time consuming and difficult, especially as Samantha and I lived on opposite sides of the world and in different time zones.

It was my job to organise the route/accommodation. There was a lot of information on the Freedom Challenge website but trying to work out daily distances to match up with accommodation was difficult, especially as not all the accommodation was listed on the website.

I put together the initial plan and Andrew King, who has been involved in the mountain bike race since the beginning, rejigged it, then nearer the time the Freedom Challenge organisers re-tweaked it again (bearing in mind we were running the route not cycling) from a safety point of view.

All the maps and route descriptions were printed off, one for each vehicle and a set for the runners plus a spare just in case, but if Samantha and I were to spend the time reading maps it was going to add a good two plus hours onto each day, thankfully Andrew and the Freedom Challenge guys provided me with GPX tracks for each day, which I down-loaded onto two GPS devices, one for the runners and another for the vehicle, this part of the planning alone took months and months!

It wasn’t only the route for the runners that had to be considered, there were occasions each day when the vehicle wasn’t able to access the areas we ran through, they had to go round on dirt roads to meet us on the other side – these diversions were sometimes 60km plus!

Next was the transport, this we thought would be the easy part, how wrong we were!! Luckily through a contact of mine in the UK, VW Commercial came on board to support us, so amazing and the 4×4 was perfect for the job.

I was very conscious of security during the run. I have never felt unsafe in South Africa in all the years I have been going over there but felt that it was important to take safety seriously, we didn’t want South Africa getting bad press for something that we could have prevented. A friend of mine who had provided me with two personal protection officers during my Double Comrades in 2009 very kindly agreed to provide us with a PPO for the Freedom Run, we had a lovely guy called Iggy (Ignatius) who spent the 32 days with us and became an integral part of the team.

The support team were great. Initially we had five support crew two of whom were there to film the expedition for a possible documentary and Iggy our Personal Protection Officer, but they all mucked in and helped us in every-way from filling our water bottles, making sure we ate, massaging when necessary, making our lunch as well as running sections with us and of course the most important part keeping us on track and motivated.

Halfway my marvellous husband and two other amazing people joined us. Everyone slotted into their own roles and worked amazingly as a team making our jobs of running much easier.

The whole team arrived in Cape Town on the 19th September , here we testing the satellite phone up to the top of Table Mountain to see if we could get a signal – a cable car up and a hike down (at the time I remember thinking how stupid I was doing this type of hiking SO close to the big run as I could have fallen or twisted an ankle, what a plonker).

Finally we were on our way to Durban where we picked up our 4×4 vehicle, filled it to the gunnel with luggage and food then drove to Pietermaritzburg where we stayed at the Aintree Lodge a lovely B&B, tomorrow we were off!

We had received a message from the Freedom Challenge organisers on the evening of the 23rd saying that they considered it extremely unsafe and dangerous for us to run from the City Hall in Pietermaritzburg (PMB) even with a vehicle behind us as there would be lots of traffic (even at 5.30 a.m. when we planned to start) and no hard shoulder for us to run on, so it was suggested that we drive to a certain point (approx. 20km further along the route) and start from there. Although not very happy with this it certainly made sense and we felt it was important to take their advice. However on the plus side we could add 20km to the end of the day and actually finish at our accommodation Allendale rather than 20k short and spend time having to drive back and forth. Also day 4 was a BIG day in terms of mileage and terrain so by adding 20km extra to the first day it would mean less to do on the long day 4.

D-day had arrived. I was up and awake at 3.30am, dressed, packed and heart rate high (no change there then!!).The boys had the task of packing the vehicle which took longer than they had anticipated (this became a very slick operation by the end of the trip!),  meaning our departure that should have been at about 5.30 am was delayed until about 6. I have to admit I found this very frustrating as I’m not very good at being delayed but there was no way the boys could have packed any faster it really was a job and a half.

On reaching the starting point Samantha and I made sure we had some water, packs on and we were ready to go – PHEW this was it, no going back now! South Africa is a country that I have a real love for so you can imagine how much I was looking forward to seeing some of the most beautiful parts while doing what I enjoyed – running!

During the planning process HWMBO asked me what would happen if both Samantha and I became injured during the run and couldn’t continue – this run had become much more than two women running across the Freedom Trail, it was about running to support South African young women to help them continue in education and therefore giving them choices about their future – the answer was simple, we would have to find people to continue the journey for us, I know now that our crew would have done it without a question.

I felt as though I was going to have a heart attack my heart was racing. We knew the world was watching us so this could either be the biggest success or the biggest flop in my running history, either way it didn’t matter. I knew if my body behaved I was capable of running the distance and my mind-set was strong. By the simple fact that we were both there and attempting something that many people wouldn’t even consider doing was testament in itself that we were focused and determined to complete the journey especially as the cause we were running for was/is so important to us.

I was feeling a lot more relaxed about an hour into the run (once I actually realized this was it!!) The scenery took my breath away, round every bend it seemed to get better and better.  The river crossings started on day one (I lost count of how many we actually waded across/through during the trip) Attempting to keep my feet dry failed miserably, so on subsequent water crossings I just waded across, far easier and quicker.

lot of this first section of the route I had seen before when I had come over in November for a Recce, but it was wonderful to see it properly from a runner’s point of view. It was very hilly today with some spectacular cross country sections.

The last section of the day were views overlooking villages in the valley below. The houses are called rondavel’s, circular houses with corrugated roofs but painted in the brightest of colours, yellows, pinks, purples & bright green, they could be seen for miles around, this really felt like the true Africa

My main concern for the first few days was that my knees wouldn’t hold up. In January I had suffered from a very bad over-extension injury during The Spine that had only recovered 95% by the time I flew out to South Africa, so you can imagine my constant worry that it wouldn’t behave or one slip and I would be back to square one again. I had to really make an effort to stop thinking about it and think positive thoughts – luckily for me someone up there was looking after me and apart from some slight swelling at the end of each day (fine in the morning) it didn’t cause any more problems. It was such a relief to get the first day under our belts and more importantly I was OK!

The first week of the expedition went by in a flash. On the second day we as we were running down towards a village we were joined by some of the school children who ran with us for about 2km, this was a great reminder to me of the reason we were actually out in South Africa running.

Each time Samantha and I had a long section away from the vehicle we would always be accompanied by one of the crew, they would carry additional water and be there from a safety point of view. There were a few times when we managed to head off alone, we felt like naughty school girls but I loved these moments.

Due to the added 20 km or so at the end of each day we had an hour and half drive on the 4th morning to get back to where we had finished the day before. The first few kms were on sand, so poor Tom, who was driving, could hardly see in front of

his nose due to the huge amounts of sand being churned up and the boys in the open back of the VW had turned orange by the time we arrived at our destination!

The weather was always cold for the first half an hour or so, but once the sun. made an appearance the temperature rose and would vary from between 25 to 40 degrees.

One of the best piece of kit I had brought out with me (not including my running kit) was my hot water bottle, everyone teased me about it but it kept me warm at the end of each day and in bed. In South Africa there is no central heating in the houses they are kept warm by fires, so once the sun goes down at that time of year it gets cold very quickly.

The most uncomfortable night’s sleep was in a traditional African village called Vuvu on the border with Lesotho. After a very good long day of running we finished at the school where they fed and watered us.  At about 7.30 p.m. we were taken by the locals (without our luggage that had to be locked up for safety) to our accommodation for the night – a home stay with one of the families. For me it felt very dusty (not great for my asthma) and although I was with three of the boys, as a group we had been split up which caused problems the following morning when trying to leave. I didn’t re-hydrate properly as there were no loos and I didn’t fancy going outside in the middle of the night and get bitten by one of the many dogs so decided it was easier just not drinking!! Sadly this was not the experience we were hoping for, although the villagers were delightful.

The following morning we climbed to the highest point of the Freedom Trail, 2,700m above sea level, there was no path as such to follow and at one point we ended up hiking through thorn bushes (one minute the GPS had us following the track the next we were heading in the wrong direction – oops!). The views were absolutely spectacular and literally took my breath away. The wind was so strong near the top that at one point we were virtually blown off our feet. Samantha gave me one of her poles to help me keep my balance.   Coming off the mountain we had a long 18 km run down to Rhodes. At this point we were running into a strong headwind with ice-cold rain, the only way we could keep warm was to keep running, the second we stopped the shivering began. We both ran faster than perhaps we should have done but the reward was a lovely room with a roaring fireplace, a bath and a massage.

We ran through and saw so many beautiful and amazing things in the first 7 days,  I could be here for a week telling you about it. We ran through forests, passed a motor museum in the middle of nowhere, ran though a private game reserve – game spotting antelope and wildebeest.

When I first saw the wildebeest it was from a distance so told Samantha that they were buffalo and they could kill us – not sure she was very happy with me but was delighted after leaving the reserve to find out they weren’t actually buffalo!! Crossed endless rivers, saw a giant Heron (they are huge just in case you have never seen one!) had Springbok jump over the fence and across the track in front of us and on one occasion a warthog ran out in front of us! There was a lot of single track, rocks and mountains.

The technical sections always worried me as I’m not a naturally gifted technical runner and other people make rock hopping look so easy, I seem to clomp over the rocks instead of gliding! On these sections I would happily remained at the back so I could do my own thing, I always wore my ankle supports that worked extremely well (they were designed to protect my ligaments & tendons that had been badly damaged in 2008 during my JOGLE World Record). I went at my own pace but was mindful that I didn’t want to hold Samantha up. If you were to compare Samantha and I on these sections she is the elegant gazelle and I’m the baby elephant following. Thankfully I always managed these sections without any mishaps (except for a few falls) and was always relieved to finish in one piece.

The boys (support crew) were fantastic and looked after us well, they took it in turns to run with us each day and entertained us every time we arrived at the car which was lovely for us.

Our accommodation along the route varied from, B&B’s, community stays, a home stay, game lodges and one evening we stayed in the most wonderful cottage in the middle of no-where with no electricity only coarsen lamps for light – I felt as though I was on a famous five adventure.

The community stays were very special. All the money they receive from people staying with them goes back into the community, which is fantastic so everyone benefits. The food they gave us was quite delicious and the accommodation was extremely comfortable and clean, a lovely experience.

I really loved staying with the farmers and their families. They welcomed us into their homes, made us feel extremely welcome and comfortable as well as feeding us the most delicious food. Nothing was too much trouble; they even did our washing which although only a little thing was huge to us.

By now I had got myself into a routine:

Wake up – 3.45 – 4am

Breakfast – 5am

Start Running – 5.30am

At the end of the day:

Shower/bath

coffee & eat

lie on bed, write my diary, roller my legs, cut strapping & sort kit for next day

Supper

Briefing

Visualisation – I would see myself crossing the “finish” line in Paarl, saying “I can and will get to the end, stay strong and focused.”

Bed

My world had become very simple – sleep, eat, run, eat, run, run, eat, sleep – repeat!

The second week took us through a region known as Stormberg (in 1899 there was the Battle of Stormberg) and reaching another mile-stone of 600km (just 1,400km to go!!)

Hylton Dunn joined us for a 16km section on day 8 which was wonderful. I’m sure we were going way to slowly for him but he seemed very relaxed and we enjoyed his company. The next few days would take us up to an altitude of 1,980m above sea level with yet more stunning views. One lady we stayed with had African Grey parrots wondering around the house, very friendly until we sat down to eat when they would began nibbling at our ankles!!

Samantha had been having issues with her gut from day one and unfortunately seem to get a few more problems with her muscles. On day 12 her leg became so painful that we had to stop and call Jane my marvellous physio friend who lived in Johannesburg and ask her advice. Thankfully Mat (Sam’s partner) is a PT so knew where to put the dry needle in Sam’s leg (under Jane’s instructions) I was thankful it wasn’t me, really didn’t like the idea of a very long needle being stuck into my thigh and then twiddled – painful or what! After the treatment was finished Sam had some strapping put on but was advised not to run so we walked the last 10k of the day.

Towards the end of the 2nd week we woke to a very cold morning. Wearing shorts but warm gear on the top we headed out as usual at 5.30am. My asthma played up a bit with the cold but as long as our pace was easy I could keep it under control. Both of us had extremely cold legs, so cold in fact that they felt as though they were burning. We flagged the vehicle down as it passed us 3km down the road and had to get in for a few minutes in order to defrost.

Day 13 we climbed and climbed heading towards the British Fortifications on the top of the Stormberg mountains; with each step the views just got better and better. The run down was amazing but tough going as it was loose rock eventually turning into something like a roller coaster but with ridges, very uncomfortable to run on. As we wound our way down the mountain track we could see in the distance the smoke coming from controlled burn being done by the farmer. It had to be done before the rains started in order that the new grass would start growing.

There were many occasions when we run through private farmland, these off road sections were always something we looked forward to even if we spend about 10 minutes on one of the days trying to work out how to open a gates. Going through one farm we came across a sign on the gate that read “Beware tigers & Lions” prefer meals on Wheels made me laugh!

The GPS worked really well except on a couple of occasions when it would take on a life of its own, taking us slightly off route – not a real problem except that the only way to get ourselves back on track usually mean crawling or fighting our way through thick undergrowth or thorn bushes.

Over the past couple of weeks I had made a real effort to eat (usually I have a real problem with getting food into me while running) I had promised my family that I wouldn’t fail because I had been stupid. In my diary I’d noted on a few occasions that I didn’t feel that either Samantha or I were consuming enough calories – so would make a mental note to myself to do better the next day.

Both of us had lost a lot of weight by this stage even though we were having a big breakfast and evening meal, we obviously weren’t consuming enough during the day. Mat at the beginning of week 3 mentioned the food issue at the briefing. It was decided that we should stop at about midday for a lunch break. I really wasn’t happy with this but it was something that Samantha wanted to do so decided not to say much other than I didn’t want to spend more than half an hour for lunch. A few days later I had got used to the idea and actually began to look forward to an enforced lunch stop 5.5 – 6 hrs into the day.

The first day of the third week was spent running along the Kingfisher river, up, around and down a mountain finishing the day in a private game reserve where we spotted a beautiful Sable Antelope standing by a large lake. Our accommodation for the night was in the game reserve where Neil the owner treated us to fantastic food and his home cured biltong, yummy. Sadly we went to bed way to early to benefit from any wildlife spotting from our rooms (next time perhaps!)

We were now in the Karoo a semi desert region where sheep thrive (there were many occasions when we had to stop while the sheep where herded into another field and once two lambs came up to me as though I was their long lost mother – so sweet)

The following day was a huge cause for celebration, we had reached the half way point!

It was going to be a tricky day in terms of navigation and for me this was the first time that I struggled with the terrain. Running through the private game reserve we followed a jeep track that lead to a single track, down to the river that we crossed and climbed up the other side along a rocky single track finally reaching the top. Suddenly the there was no path to follow, the GPS had decided to have one of it’s blip moments and it looked as though the only way down was to fly.

Having pulling a thorn out of my trainer we eventually spotted a white painted rock, my face dropped as I saw nothing but large rocks/boulders heading down a very steep hill. This was all part of the adventure and was definitely going to take me out of my comfort zone but it was the only way down!

While Samantha seemed to glide effortlessly down the 1.5km rocky track I followed in a rather more heavy footed fashion, at points having to sit on my bottom in order to get myself over the next boulder (not a pretty sight!) I was caught on camera by Tom doing a lot of talking to myself (very embarrassing) but we finally reached the valley floor where the trail was more forgiving. My legs definitely felt as if they had worked by the end of the day so it was lovely to finally stop.

We had our first and only puncture this week but luckily for us the boys managed to change the wheel which proved to be much harder than they thought. Now we just needed to keep our fingers crossed that no further punctures occurred.

We ran through yet another wonderful game reserve where we saw hundreds of large antelope and a warthog – it felt like a walking safari and yet again our accommodation for the night was amazing, purpose built tents with views to die for. The owner Philip came over to say hi and I mentioned that Tom (camera guy) really wanted to see a giraffe so he took him down in his 4×4 where a young giraffe had been born 3 days before hand, a very special moment. I finished the day feeling really energised. My left knee had caused a slight issue but thankfully it was all down to tight gluts – after a quick massage the pain went away.

Running along the Freedom Trail was such a massive adventure, we never knew what was round the corner or what the day would bring. Every day we would encounter a variety of game, this aways got us excited, it didn’t matter how many times we saw an antelope or a monkey it was amazing seeing animals in their natural environment. One day in particular was very special. We were running along side a Private Game reserve when we spotted 5 rhinos, one of them had a baby, quite amazing. We also spotted quite a few tortoises who can move faster than you think.

Samantha and I continued to maintain a good pace. Right from the start we fast hiked up all the hills and ran anything else we could. It was agreed that if either of us thought the other person was going too fast we had to say something and the pace would slow. When we ran on our own i.e. without the crew with us, we actually ran in perfect harmony never having to give much thought to the speed that we were running.

Everything so far had gone relatively smoothy, all the landowners knew we were coming so were happy for us to cross their land until day 18 when we were to go through Addo National Park. I was looking forward to this as I had raced their in 2008 and it really is quite a spectacular place plus of course there was always the chance that we might see an elephant.

There was a 17km section without the vehicle that took us around a beautiful dam full of birdlife and the obligatory fishermen (part of the Addo National Park). Before that however I took Samantha on a little detour through overgrown thorn bushes, eventually emerging the other side only to discover a very wide jeep track that we should have been on – opps! 1km had taken us 27 minutes, not my finest moment in terms of navigation but we did have a laugh about it!!

Unfortunately we were not permitted to continue through the Addo National Park (the security guard wouldn’t let us through, even though we had the required permits) so we had to do a detour in order to get as near as we could to our originally route. In the end we only missed out on 12km, a real shame but completely out of our hands.

You know that feeling in a race when you ask someone how far to the finish and they say 5 miles but it actually turns out to be nearer 10? This happened to us at the end of day 19. It was near the end of the day and we only had about 2km to go, the vehicle had gone on ahead to find the accommodation which was fine as I had the GPS. As we were coming up to the turning for the accommodation we were met by the crew to say that it was the wrong house and we were staying about 4km further on – I know only 4km further on, but at that moment in time in our minds we had reached our destination.  Both of us remained cool calm and collected, I think the boys were expecting fireworks! We took in the information and continued running, there really was no point in wasting valuable energy getting angry about something that was out of everyone’s control and anyway if we wanted to finish for the day we had to run to our accommodation that turned out to be a wonderful cottage with no electricity and the hot water was heated by a contraption outside known as the “donkey boiler”. The fire inside heats up the water. I went to bed very excited as the following day HWMBO arrived. It was the longest we had been apart since our son was 18 months old.

The day began with a 23km run up a mountain track surrounded by lush green forests, rocky cliff faces, it was quite stunning especially with the sun shining down on us – followed of course by rain – oh joy of joys!

At the top of the mountain track we had a 28km section away from the vehicle, this was to be our most technical day so far. However tough a section was I felt extremely privileged to be running in such amazing locations and this particular section was absolutely breathtaking.

We had the GPS and the Freedom Challenge narrative (used by the riders) but all the points of reference on the narrative were inaccurate and didn’t seem to match up to where we were with the GPS. There were 11 river crossings, several times the water was higher than our waists and on one occasion it was easier to walk down the river rather than battle our way through the dense 7 foot reed beds. The going was extremely slow, especially as most of the time there was no path and we had the added bonus of being shredded by thorn bushes. The final section before reaching the vehicle was to wade through yet more deep water before running the last 5k to the accommodation – This section took us over 6 hours.

Running towards the accommodation we spotted our crew, Tim & Samantha’s mother & sister. I was overwhelmed with joy and emotion at seeing Tim – in that moment none else existed or matter, all I cared about was hugging my husband.

The next day has to be one of the most amazing days on the trip. It began by going through a stunning canyon, followed by running up and over the switchbacks of Swartberg Pass. When I turned round to look at the view all I could see for miles was this never-ending dirt road. Once at the top the track was undulating until eventually descending steeply into a place called “Hell”! The following day the only way out of “Hell” was to climb up a steep rocky 1.2km track known as “the ladder”. I would stop every so often to look at the view, these were real WOW moments.

The end of the third week was another long day but thankfully not technical which was a bit of a relief, it was however very hot so we did sneak into the stationery air-conditioned car to cool down. My body was still holding up well, although my left knee would play up sometimes but always felt better for a few more days once Mat had worked his magic.

Week four began with another long day followed by a slightly shorter day of 57.67km as we were lucky enough to have a physio appointment in Prince Albert, such a treat. Samantha had a bad day today when her vision seemed to disappear so she followed behind me and I would tell her if there were any holes, dips in the road to watch out for. I made her stop when we next met up with the vehicle to get some food insider her. It must have been very concerning and frightening not to be able to see properly but about 5km further down the road her vision returned to normal.

At the end of week four we were joined by my marvellous friend and one of South Africa’s top trail runners Linda Doke. The start of the day was on tar which was not pleasant but once off the road we found ourselves running through beautifully kept vineyards. Having not had any alcohol since the run began I was looking forward to tasting the South African wine when we had finished.

It was now the final few days, imagine after all this time finally being able to count the number of days left on one hand – MARVELLOUS! During the expedition I had always taken one day at a time, finishing the day then at the race briefing I could start thinking about the following day, very occasionally I would allow my mind to wonder and think of the finish line -I knew that whatever happened now I could crawl to the finish line if necessary.

For the two final days we were joined by Rory Steyn on his bike, he has the most amazing stories to tell as he used to be chief of security for Nelson Mandela, you can imagine we were full of questions.

The last day had to be the most stunning scenery I have ever seen; the area is so remote that many South African’s will never see it, a real honour to be seeing it. Eric Tollner joined our merry gang for this section to help guide us through (we had been told that this was THE most technical section of the entire route).  Erica had completed the Freedom Challenge the year before and having his knowledge of the area was invaluable.

There were no paths to follow and the terrain was hilly and steep, covered in rocks that were hidden by the overgrown plants/bushes. We climbed down waterfalls, over boulders, had so many ascents and descents I have lost count, waded through and across rivers and at times had to fight our way through the undergrowth in order to keep moving forward – Then just when we thought we had finished there was a near vertical climb to get out of the valley. We covered 10km in 6 hours!

With 2.17km to go we could smell the finish but unfortunately were stuck behind a very high electric fence and the only person with the key was at the finish line – 3/4 hr later we were finally released and Samantha and I holding our respective country’s flags with the South African flag between ran with hands held high to the finish line in Diemersfontein Vine Yard to be greeted and cheer through by friends and family – we had done it, the end of an epic adventure.

32 days is a very long time to spend with someone you have only met once in person, it was a bit like having an arranged marriage we knew each other but not really well, there had been a lot to learn! We both had the same end goal and worked well as a team, supporting one another when needed and equally gave one another space, also very important. While out running we would chat, laugh and discuss various topics, sometimes nothing needed to be said we just enjoyed the silence.

We were both lucky to have the support of our amazing crew who worked tirelessly for the 32 days, without them our dream wouldn’t have been possible, they are the real stars of this story giving up their time to support us.

This has been the biggest adventure in terms of distance, I’m not sure it’s my toughest but I loved every minute and will cherish the memories.

Thank you to everyone who has donated to our Charity, without your support we wouldn’t have been able to raise the £27,500 needed to set up the project to support South African Girls to remain in Education by supplying them with re-usable sanitary pads. Once they reach puberty they can miss out on 4/5 days of school each month because they are unable to afford to buy the sanitary pads, eventually dropping out of school altogether.  Over the course of a year the project will support 800 girls.

RASA 2013 Video - by Chris and Julia Fisher

This is a video from Chris and Julia Fisher's 2013 Freedom Challenge Race Across South Africa. The 2200km Freedom Trail route is non-stop, unsupported and self-navigated from Pietermaritzburg to Paarl.

Music: 

Radical Face - Always Gold 

Radical Face - Welcome Home

Freedom Rider - Forward - by David Waddilove

“The way to see this country is on horseback”, a farmer from the Little Karoo once told me. Perhaps it held true of a time when he was young and the Fencing Act had not yet come into effect and the great Springbok migrations of which Kevin writes in this book, were still occurring. It is no longer true. The country has since been divided up by fences; roads, many of them public, have been blocked with locked gates. To ride it on horseback is simply not possible. The way to see this country is on a mountain bike.

With a mountain bike it is possible to climb over fences and locked gates; to venture into places where few people travel anymore; to be overwhelmed by the majesty of the Bewaarkloof; to pick a trail between the lakes of Chrissiesmeer; to ford a swollen Tinana River; to negotiate the 22 gates of the Saaipad or scale the locked gates of Banderlierkop, the Letaba valley, Perdekraal and Anysberg; to follow the migration routes of the antelope and the journeys of Burchell and Gordon and the early settlers, all of which Kevin does. To be able to travel in this manner is to be able to experience some of the true splendour of South Africa and to enjoy the country in all her glory.

With a mountain bike it is also possible to overcome some of the social and cultural barriers that constrain us. Repeatedly as we follow Kevin’s journey, we see the willingness of people to engage with a sole mountain biker. However, the engagement is not limited to offers of lifts or polite enquiries about the rider’s well being, from where he is coming or to where he is going, for those enquiries are a constant refrain that follows a rider across the country. The engagement extends to the many offers of hospitality and assistance that Kevin was constantly receiving. As I read of these I am again struck by the incredible generosity of the people living in the rural parts of this land; people willing to invite into their houses, to share their meals and their drinking water, to offer up their beds to a complete stranger on a bicycle. To be able to experience this is to be able to experience the soul of South Africa.

In undertaking such journeys we not only learn more of the country and her people but we learn more of ourselves. As Kevin battles the hak-en-steek of Kranskloof and the sleet around Sterkfontein he battles with himself. So it is with such expedition rides. A path to Taung that was good riding six months ago might be overgrown when we next get to visit it; we might end up on the wrong side of a forest in the Kasteelberg; we are swallowed by the thick reeds of the Stettynskloof. Such incidents force us to search the inner depths of our souls and it is in our response that we are measured. We learn to appreciate a bike that works, a dry place to sleep, a pair of R10 leather gloves, a new pair of riding shoes, a cold drink (still generically called a Groovy in some of the rural spaza shops) or a packet of lemon cream biscuits. We learn to be humble.

There are other times in this book when we are afforded a glimpse into Kevin’s soul. We read of how he rages against the wind at the Patat River. We witness the quiet focus it takes for him to ride from Beit Bridge to Cape Point, following trails and dirt roads, in 30 days; the resolution that it requires to pass up an offer of a warm fire, a good meal and a comfortable bed for the night because its only 3pm and there is still daylight in which to cycle.

But it is not all grind and grime. The explosion of mountain biking racing in South Africa is no doubt the precursor to what Kevin describes as a growth in “bikepacking” – offroad touring by mountain bike. Through pioneering rides such as his Gannaride, Kevin is introducing us to otherwise hidden treasures. He is opening up parts of the country to the rest of us. Whilst we share his battle to find a path through the Ngodwana valley or his abortive trip up the Namahadi Pass, and may in time choose to avoid these, we are able to delight in his route through the Ndawana valley to the Umzimvubu. There is a small community of mountain bikers out there, blazing trails. Their willingness to share their routes and experiences makes it easier for those who ride after them.

We can engage with this country superficially and as passersby or we can endeavour to understand some of its complex, at times painful, but often rich and rewarding history. In his journeys through the country Kevin engages with the landscape of Elandslaagte and various Anglo Boer (or South Africa) War battle sites; he grapples with the genocide of the bushmen; he quietly delights in unveiling the existence of the /Xegwi; his cry “I am ganna” resonates through his account of his travels. In engaging with the country in the manner that he does, he gives truth to the statement made by him to old man Dippenaar at the foot of the Normandien Pass “I am a South African”.

This book successfully, albeit at times in an understated manner, gives insight into the intensity of specific moments and experiences during his journeys. However, it fails in that it does not give sufficient sense of the majesty of the mountains, of the vistas of valleys and hills that open up as one rides it, of the vastness of the country. It does not do so simply because it cannot. To experience this it is necessary to get out there and ride it.

As the Freedom Challenge may have provided the spark for Kevin to embark on a mountain biking journey that culminated in this book, it is my sincere hope that this book provides the spark for at least some of its readers to get out maps, to plan routes and to start discovering for themselves the soul of mountain biking.

Wellington

October 2012

Racing the Freedom Trail - By Stuart Brew

As published in Endurance New Zealand

With the morning sun warming my back I winced as wind driven snow blasted the exposed skin on my face. Up ahead, beyond the blue skies above, indications of what I was heading into towered above the summit of Lehana’s Pass - the highest portage in my Race Across South Africa. I knew today’s cold front had already fallen on the racers of the earlier batch starts and now it was my turn. 

 It was day five of the the 2011 edition of the Freedom Challenge Race Across South Africa - a 2300km mountain bike race, unsupported - you receive no outside assistance, and navigate using traditional methods along the route. 

En route are 26 ‘support’ stations providing food and a bed that you can victual with a two litre container each of goodies. Otherwise you carry what you need yourself. Your total time is what counts - you command your strategy. Overhead clouds built slowly and winds gently increased in strength throughout the day, signs of an approaching front as I journeyed up the valleys lying between ridgelines, formed like giant fingers falling east off the Drakensburg. 

The support station above the head of one of these valleys is Vuvu. At the school we eat our meals, wash in a basic manner and store our gear. For sleeping arrangements we were billeted to a villager’s hut- the classic mud rondavel. The school has electricity unlike our billets, or indeed our previous support stationthe community run lodge, Malekholonyane. My hosts’ leisurely breakfast delayed my plans to get to the beginning of the Lehana’s Pass portage as dawn broke. I wanted to climb it and be off the tops before the storm’s fury broke out catching me in it. I lost almost two hours that I could only substitute with broken sleep, missing a meal was not an option. Climbing in the lee of the ridgeline provided some shelter from the full force of the gusty icy wind. 

Progress carrying the mountain bike was difficult. Dropping to my knees at times giving me the only respite from being blown off the mountain. My strategy although delayed, worked. I had beaten the worst of the weather with good conditions under foot with the snow proper yet to fall. I arrived at the support station in the sleepy hamlet of Rhodes mid afternoon and with a desire to push on as far as I could to try and push through the impending snowfall. 

I victualled from my pre race dropped two litre container and refuelled with offerings of hearty bowls of soup, bread and cups of tea. Heading towards darker clouds it was a matter of time before the fluffy flakes of snow would come. I felt good as the rest of my start group would have the extra effort of riding in the snow tomorrow. As darkness fell and the fatigue of the day chipped away at my spirits, the snow began to fall. I decided to buoy my spirits and made a quick call into farm house. Warmed by the fire, I ate my chocolate and headed back into the night. 

The stop did the trick and with a fair wind following me for the next thirty kms, my spirits carried me into the night. As the snow got thicker, my legs got heavier and the clock ticked towards an 18 hour day. Descending into the next valley metered the importance of caution to me. My speed increased the light reflecting off the falling snow and made visibility in the direction of travel impossible. I slowed drastically, wary of the consequences to find myself cms away from the edge of a large drop to the valley below. I felt like I was watching a tennis match - my eyes constantly using the ditches on either side for reference to ensure I stayed on the road. Ten kms from my destination car lights appeared out of the darkness. A concerned Christo from Chesneywold support station had come to check on my wellbeing. He kept his distance so it could not be said I received assistance- I wished he’d followed closer so I could use his lights and stop the tennis thing. 

I arrived at his family’s fifth generation farm at 2215hrs for some welcome warmth, food and rest. When dawn broke dark clouds trailing the main front began to thin. I met my goal and missed the worst of it. Today I had the possibility of three portages but conditions would be assessed as I went, ground conditions would be key. I also had to think of my energy reserves.

A visit at the end of the first portage to a ruined homestead the route passed by was a personal highlight this day. In 2008 I learnt this homestead had friezes painted on the walls of the lounge to remind the previous occupants of a Europe they had left behind. Pleased to find them, it was a reminder of how quickly life changes, seeing them now open to the elements with small snow drifts piled beneath them. I finished my day early at 1400 as I stopped for lunch at the next support station of Slaapkrantz. 

I found out that ground conditions for the next two more portages were tough going with many instances of people been caught out, falling well short of the next support station and having to make a plan for the night. I decided over lunch to carry on the following day and use the time to fuel and recover my  body, looking to the end of the race. These called for some big days to get my strategy back on track and catch my initial riding partner Ben. Day eight began with a short sharp steep portage luckily in snow to dismiss the effort of the mud. We weren’t so lucky for the next one though as the snow had mostly melted leaving the ground soggy for the long gradual ascent and steep descent. 

After these portages we then journeyed forth on ‘district’ (dirt) roads in various states of repair. The slow progress of the last two days picked up and the miles flowed freely under the wheels as we entered the Eastern Cape’s Karoo. We passed through Rossouw a ‘town’ destined at one point for greater things - perfectly planned and yet to grow into its grand street plan, and over the hill to the farm of Mordenaars Poort, the scene of a lucky escape by Boer Commando and later South African Union Prime Minister Jan Smuts, whose four strong scouting party was ambushed leaving him the sole survivor of the skirmish.

Journeying on into the night, the day had turned into a long one as the advice had suggested. Thoughts turned to the days ahead and how to string a workable plan together. I had just left my riding partner for the day, Liehann as I wanted to finish the day quicker and maximise my rest. Riding at increased pace it was in only minutes of leaving Liehann and in the flat light of the head torch, that I caught an indistinct shallow rut and went down. 

All thoughts of plans instantly changed to the here and now. Adrenalin coursed through my body as it does when trauma hits. At the site of pain, my elbow was immobile and the joint felt mis-shapen. I judged a dislocation and when Liehann arrived an attempt to relocate it failed. Plans changed again as options were considered. The immediate need was to deal with the shock that had begun to take hold. Moving to the side of the road I stood up slowly and in doing so my arm straightened and ‘popped’ back in. As the shock began to subside and with Liehann at my side I started to walk towards our destination for the night, still 15kms away. 

Noticing the road gently descending I tried ‘scooting’ and decided I could mount the bike. Progress increased significantly and hope buoyed as the prospect of a very late night disappeared. Not without another scare though, as I caught another rut and had to step off the bike. This time without any further trauma. As the cold night starting to bite we called in on a remote farmhouse to rug up in the warmth it offered. Only two small hills remained that I had to walk up before rolling into Kranskop support station at 2100hrs to enjoy the welcome hospitality of Sandra and Diederek and to make a plan. 

Here my 2011 Freedom Challenge Race Across South Africa ended. The only disappointment came from the possibilities that I was now unable to try. I had begun to hit my stride, I gained confidence from the earlier hurdles and was formulating a plan to catch Ben and push hard onto the finish, testing myself further. Another day Perhaps. 

The other side of darkness - By: Alex Harris

The other side of darkness  - Alex Harris

There’s an upside to being a dark horse. You’re partly naïve as to what lies ahead, and largely under the radar. Undistracted by the thought of some future pain, you can race hard and take it one day at a time. Of course when you’ve done something before, this is no longer the case.

Apart from numb fingers and a sore rump, winning last years Freedom Challenge had left a growing void. Part capacity and part wonder, I had spent hours, if not days thinking and dreaming about the race, piecing together bits of the trail in my mind and trying to figure out what was possible. This wasn’t just a normal bike race. It was a trip down the dark side and as such, the thought of doing it again was like a bitter sweet pill. Tim James record of 13 days and 15 hours was doable, if conditions were right. Let me clear something up, I wasn’t after Tim’s record per say. I was more interested in filling that void – answering those questions so to speak. 

In January the fun started with easy 4 and 5 hr rides on the mtb on familiar trails with familiar faces. I had to be content now with the short hours and appease the unsettled grumbling deep inside for something longer. Then a desert trip to the Emirates and a climbing trip to Australia kept me off my bike for a while, probably a good thing. But by April I had notched up a number of 100k+ rides, and the first 200. I was starting to realise that if riding a better time than my previous race of 14 days was on the cards, or the record for that matter, I was going to have to learn a new way to count. Long distances were simply numbers, and slowly the battle of learning this new language was shifted out to Magaliesburg. 

Early in the morning twice a week I would meet the others at the Magaliesburg Wimpy. By others I mean my partners in crime, Anton Mayberry, Jacques Swart and Mike Woolnough. Our offence, agreeing to race the FC knowing full well what awaited. Leaving the cars in the parking lot we would head out west, out towards Boons and Derby and eventually Ventersdorp, out over quiet dirt roads and empty mielie fields. The same roads where Jameson’s tenacity had come to an end and diamond diggers had found scant pickings in alluvial fields. Some days we road together, others it was just me. Me and the familiar Jackals in the same spots with that same forlorn look on their faces. I loved all of it, the silence and solitude, and seeing a valley or ridge for the first time.

By May we had notched up a couple of 200’s and had also done the Ride to Rhodes unsupported as a training ride. It was time to take things up a notch and hit that big number - 300. At 2.30 am on Saturday the 28^th May, I met Mike and Anton on Beyers Naude. Mike would join us for about a 100ks, but Anton and I were going big. That it happened to be the coldest morning in Joburg thus far was apt, and foreboding, because it gave a very accurate indicator of what was to come later on in the race. As Mike rolled up and pulled off his buff he noted “this is just silly!” He was right of course, both for now and for later. It was minus 3 or 4 going through the cradle. 7am and we hit the Magalies wimpy for a quick coffee and a goodbye to Mike. An hour later we hit a 100, and 6 hours after that, 200. We were within 15kms of Ventersdorp when we swung a lazy circle and started the long trail back.

The problem with doing 300kms on trails and dirt roads is that it’s a tricky exercise to work out what kind of loop will come in at the 300k mark. By sunset we had stopped next to some old diggings to fill up on water. We were sitting on 235ks with still a long way to go. I was starting to think the loop we were on was going to be way more than 300! 275kms and we pedalled past Tarlton and some rutted roads from hell. 290 and we were nearing Sterkfontein with limbs aching and my behind now somewhat numb. Anton made a call for a pickup realising to ride all the way home would be plain stupid. And so, around 10 that night we pulled up at the Kloofzicht traffic circle to a waiting van. We had cycled 308kms in around 19 hours. We felt surprisingly good.

The tough part though, was to get up early the next morning and go and do another 100. My knees ached and my bum was starting to talk a language neither of us knew! But it was done. By the end of that weekend I had a new sense of discomfort on the bike and a bigger beachhead in my mind. I never seriously contemplated doing 300 in the race, but I knew I would do many 200+ days. To have the knowledge that I could do 300 was a big plus. It was also an important trial run in full race gear. I was riding a 29 inch hard tail with a bag built into the middle triangle. This kind of stuff needed to be tested well before race day.

On the 16^th of June at 6am the Maritzburg town hall bell set us off and my mind was once again in a familiar place. I tried not to think too far down the line, just the morning, and the hills and where I would spend the night. It was a warmer start than last year and by the time I got to the Umkomaas valley, it was blazing hot. Legs struggled up the steep Hela Hela in the heat. I was wearing the same kit as before, a Capestorm furnace against my skin. The only difference was the cows blazoned across it. CHOC (childhood cancer foundation) had agreed to sponsor my race, as long as I was covered in Cows! I figured it would give me extra warmth latter on, but for now I was cooking!

Photo: Andrew King

Day 1 and 2 went as planned with 155 and 205 in the bag. By day 3 the predictable cold weather was on its way and strong winds were lashing the mountains. My race strategy was simple, ride 18 hours, sleep 5 and mess around for 1. Simple however, is not a word that is in any part of the FC dictionary. Grinding a big gear out of Tinana Mission, my trigger happy fingers fired both gears at the same time and I jammed my chain, so badly that I need to disassemble both my front rings and my chain just to get it off. I also broke my shifter in the process. Not gear failure, brain failure! I sat cursing on the road while I fixed the whole mess and killed 45 minutes. By the time I got to Vuvu, I was chasing time again. An hour later on Lehana pass I got the full brunt of the wind as I battled to keep my balance. One of the camera crew followed me up the steep berg pass as gale force winds pounded across the ridges. It was insane, and a reminder that the best made plans are quickly made a mockery of. 

8 pm that night I rolled into Rhodes, too hammered to push on. Over the next three or four days I realised my strategy was not going to work. There was simply too much water about. Torrential rains had pounded the Eastern Cape for the past month leaving in its wake one of the wettest winters in ages and a long list of flooded rivers. All the small portage sections and vleis, where I thought I would blaze across, I was now stumbling, and slipping and sliding and just altogether making a mud mess of everything. Consequently, my speeds weren’t as fast as id hoped. And so, the only other place I could steal time, was my sleep. Slowly, I started sleeping less and less so that I could spend more time on the bike. 

On day 8 I slept through my alarm and started out late across the Darlington Dam. Chasing time is a bad thing. You make mistakes. It’s like brain freeze after glugging down a Mango Freo too quickly. Wrong turns and more mud saw me get to Buckland’s 2 hrs later than planned. By evening I was dropping down towards the Grootrivier and the start of the infamous Baviaanskloof. By midnight I was at Hadley station, just before the start of the 4x4 track. I turned in for 2 mins. It was locked. I contemplated bivvying the night in the back but decided against it. In retrospect, this was a defining moment in my race. If I had known just how flooded Baviaans was, I might have chose discretion. But I didn’t know, and so, I pushed on.

Half way down the 4x4 track I stopped for a 15 min power nap. I stuck my body out of the wind in a clump of fynbos and slept. When I woke, my phone beeped in some passing signal. I pulled it out and phoned Nadia and asked her to lift me up in prayer. My spirit could sense the darkness below, and aware of some impending doom, it wanted out. I wanted to stay, stay where I was and wait for brighter days and warmer times. My mind was drifting, beyond the limit of consciousness, beyond what I could focus on and handle. My wife’s voice was like an elixir. She reminded me of who I was and whose image I had been made in. Suck it up, something deep inside me said, you need to see this through.

When I got on my bike I was focused, clear cut like a laser beam, I knew what I needed to do. Primal almost. I dropped for an hour and a half into Baviaanskloof, arriving at my first river crossing at about 1 am. In front of me was a wall of debris. Broken thorns trees and clumps of bush had been washed down in flood and now blocked the way to the river. I thrashed around trying to pick an easy way through, before stumbling into the river. It was up to my waist and ice cold. On the other side I had the same problem, except I couldn’t see the road. Baviaans has 11 or 12 of these river crossings. Each one was worse. The flood debris was thicker and the flooded channels faster. I now had to get to a thicket, claw my way through, visualise the line across the river and where the road might be on the far side, and then try and cross without being swept away. At one point I slipped on a reed island and fell to the side, soaking the right side of my body up to my shoulders. I cursed then kicked into survival mode, quickly stripping my tops and putting on a dry one.

Six hours later I had hacked, clawed, thrashed, cursed and swum my way across 10 kms of Baviaans, in a silent darkness. I had glimpsed into Mordor naïve, and had come out old. It was a long day, 25 hours all told by the time I rolled into Cambria for 2 hours of sleep. Later that day I caught up to Eugene(Uge) and Garth. The company was a welcome change from the demons id been chatting to. When a day later Garth was dropped, it left just the two of us and a mad, semi frenzied dash for the line. Uge was well versed in the arcane art of sleep deprivation and so we forged a friendship founded in the hearth of some far off primitive world, predicated on a belief that less was more.  2 hours a night was now a luxury as it became 1.5, then 1. By the time we crossed Anysberg, 200kms from the finish, I had slept 10 hours in the last week. Sleep monsters were now a constant companion, attacking often, relentless and ruthless!  

And so, to counter the growing, debilitating lack of sleep, we had to power nap.  5 mins, 10 mins, 15 mins, anything to prevent us tumbling head long into a ditch or river. The desire to sleep grew like some insidious beast, like a neap tide drifting in and out with growing waves. First a full moon, then a farce. Sleep was a drug. 5 mins and I wanted more. 20 and I would’ve been gone, addicted like a zombie and destined for the inexorable fate of the undead. We tapped, we pushed, we shouted, we joked, anything to keep us awake and going. The penultimate day we rode 224kms, part pacing and part sleepless drifting. We lit a fire to get warm, and we sheltered in a shed. Endless roads, icy plains, wind and rain. The world had slowed to the shifting of a seamless chain and Uge and I were the links.

When at last it was done, 12 days and 15 hours had passed. Id caught a glimpse beyond the darkness, beyond the murky, fetid breath of a whimper to quit and the dizzy numbness of a mind caught between night and day. And so, the void was filled and the questions answered. Sleep that night was mixed, for I hadn’t quite escaped the prison. Only now, with the post race fading euphoria still lingering, am I finally unshackled. But I’m not sure I will ever be free.