After waking up to Sue’s alarm clock at 3am, we made our final selection and preparations of race food and packed our racing kit for the day. We dressed quickly and while still taking mouthfuls of breakfast started pushing our bikes the 1km to the entrance gate of Bonamanzi where the race would start.
Promptly at 4am, Wimpie sounded his bakkies hooter. The teams waiting in the darkness surged past us, including the other half of our team who had left after us and walked separately, only getting to the start just in time. We let the others pull away and made a quieter start. We planned to set a maintainable pace, one that would see us through to the end of the day without injury or undue discomfort. All things are relative.
The first leg of the race was a 27km Mountain Bike ride. The first 2km of which were gentle downhill runs which we used to warm up and get our pace, riding closely together and talking excitedly about our expectations. It was raining gently and the lowveld warmth pleasant. Race briefing had been between 9 and 10pm the previous evening, and we had gone to bed about 30 minutes later, but the excitement, lightning, wind and rain along with a few hungry mosquitoes had interrupted our precious sleep. The storm had made the road muddy with pools of slushy puddles but it was still better to be on our way in reality than doing the planning and packing we had been doing in our interrupted dreams.
By the time we crossed the low water bridge our team felt almost deserted, very few pale cycle headlights and flashing red taillights could be seen in the dark. Beyond the causeway the road started its steady climb which continued relentlessly upward for about 8km. Some hills were steep enough that it was felt we could conserve more energy by pushing our bikes, each to our own taste of hill climbing. We were all in our Granny Gear lows and progress which had been 17km/h dropped to a painfully slow 4km/h.
A loud thump was heard. Ah, just William falling on his side as his new cleats didn’t unclip. The mandatory call “Are you alright”?, followed by the usual short silence and an “OK” that meant pride was dented, it was not ‘ok’, but this is the nature of the game, he’ll get over it. As we rode upward we passed a few teams that were having early bicycle troubles. A girl called out that her bike wouldn’t engage low gear, so we went back to help her, only to discover that she had already exchanged her bike with her partners, and he was about 300meters further up the hill on the broken bike. She thanked us for our concern.
Three teams that had started late passed us. Later we heard that at about 4:05AM they ad been running up and down the veranda at the rooms, a little confused and bewildered that the race had started at such an early hour without them. It takes experience (and a little discipline and psychology) to get a team on the road on time.
The climb went on and on with little respite, an hours worth of steep climbing! Was this a joke the organizers had laughed about. A Billy Joel song sprung to song “its four o’clock on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffles on. There’s an old man riding next to me, making love to his mo-houn-tain bike” Good spirits.
As the rain started to clear a sliver of moon could be seen peeping down through the night clouds, and then slowly the eerie moon light shifted to the East and morning was declared, slowly revealing the road winding upwards, with ploughed lands and trees vague in the mist.
After an hour of riding it was light enough for a quick stop at the side of the road to get something to nibble, pack away the rain jacket and headlamp, blog, put on sunscreen and enjoy the sights. A team passed us, checked if we were ok and named us the Breakfast Team. Oh, alright, call us what you like, we will enjoy the journey.
William was disappointed that there would be no navigating. The instructions had been, “Follow this road and at the railway line turn right, there will be signs with an arrow. This method of routing doesn’t give any indication of effort, terrain expected or other information useful for pacing. Just go until you’re instructed to do something else.
The road levelled out on the plateau and it felt wonderful to be able to do 30km/h, feeling like an invincible superhero low flying above the ground.
As the road come up to a railway bridge there was a black sign with a white arrow pointing to a jeep track to the right. The rain had made the track exceptionally muddy and this type of mud was exceptionally slippery. As we heard later from Nando, this is where his bike slipped from under him and his superman flight ended with a huge splash into the mud. For the rest of our cycling leg we fought to control our bikes as they yawed left and right. We rode mostly on the middle mannetjie, and where we could on the harder ground next to the railway. At one point we climbed the fence to a slightly less muddy farm road on the right, only to have it rejoin our muddy track a couple of hundred meters further on. The bikes became engulfed in the mud with super sized mud tyres flinging dirt in every direction, and all of what had been well oiled precision gearing battling to operate from within clumps of mud and grass. Frequently, but vainly, we stopped to scoop water from the numerous puddles over the mechanisms to try and free the workings. Mud is not good for brakes and gears, but it is good fun to test your riding skill and balance under such conditions. I took a picture of the mud on my bike, the last picture my camera was prepared to take in those conditions, before it shut down due to moisture.
The road dipped here and there and we navigated large muddy puddles. Mud everywhere until we emerged onto a road bridge crossing over the railway line. This was the first checkpoint and after nearly four hours of riding the marshals and camera crew were friendly and enthusiastic. Thanks guys. In other years we had proven we could do the 94.7 cycle challenge in this time. We refilled our 2 litre water bladders, changed from our cycling shoes into our running shoes and were off hiking down the road for the 15km hike leg before we could enjoy the sanity of the transition.
The day transitioned from mist to bright sunshine. The mist lifted from the valleys like cotton wool. After about an hour of hiking a seconding bakkie passed us with their teams bikes, taking them to the next cycling leg that was still many hours and much sunlight away. Shortly, another bakkie passed us and we recognized our own bikes being driven along the road. It was nice that seconds weren’t mandatory as it made the race easier to organize, and the seconding organized by Wimpie was very well done. Thank you. We really appreciated seeing our bikes had been looked after in transit. It’s so easy to bend derailers through rough handling. Later, I was thankful to see my wet camera still safe after absent mindedly leaving it hanging on my handlebars. Thanks again.
After an hour we made our first five minute stop, and took off our tops to reapply sunscreen. At 4km/h it takes an hour to walk 4km. duh. We needed to walk 15km. That’s nearly 4 hours of walking! The day grew sunnier and hotter. After another hour we chose a Mulberry tree to sit under, and five minutes later regretted that only 30m further on we could have stopped overlooking a pretty farm dam. As we walked we discussed many things. We spoke about the merits of various styles of sun protection and cooling techniques. We passed an enticing and picturesque dam with water fowl and Egrets but decided a swim would be a little over casual.
We pressed on at our non tiring walking pace and crossed over a river. A sign indicated it was the same Steelpoort River we would be tubing on later. It was farming country with cows in the fields. A woman motorist on her way back from church cheered us on while another farmer stopped and offered us cold, clean water at his farmstead. His laughter as he drove off made his offer seem a little insincere. It was hot! We decided we would stop on the hour every hour for a nibble and sunscreen. We chatted, debating the best stopping places and discussed the merits of what we would eat, whether arm warmers should be wet to cool your arms and if they were worth the discomfort for the sun protection they offered. Everything became a debate, where was the best place to stop, how fast we were walking, how fast we should walk, how long we should stop, where we might wee…, everything in minute detail. With all the discussion we skipped a stop. We looked at the range of mountains and guessed at where the abseiling was and how long it would take to reach it, and so on we walked and talked.
Eventually we came to a T-Junction with its black sign and white arrow, indicating we should turn left. I noticed bicycle tracks on the road, and excitedly theorized that these must be from the leading teams on their way back from abseiling. It took a little effort from my team to enlighten me that these were our own tracks from the morning ride and we were now looping back along the way we had ridden earlier. I felt angry and disappointed that we had looped around with no purpose. We could have cycled here in next to no time and we had had to walk for hours, just to have gone around in a circle. The mind games had started!
After 2km down the hill that had slowed our biking earlier we passed a team hiking back up the other side of the game fence adjacent to the road who shouted “its 10km down and then back up”
It did feel that far, but I suppose it was only 800m or so until we reached the third checkpoint and refilled our very empty water stocks. From that point it was a left turn into a game farm and a circuitous undulating loop of 7km. We passed a man in a bakkie and another on a tractor who directed us along the road. “Stick next to the fence” We didn’t see any animal bigger than the tok tokkies and dung beetles on the road. Sue kindly rescued one from certain death on its back. We had another nibble stop 10 Metres before we saw a deserted umbrella and deck chair. Our fast team had managed to get water at that point from the marshal who had been there, and they said he had a cooler box with ice cold drinks and beer. There should have been a sty over the fence and rock climbing on the loop. For us it was just hot, and my legs started feeling sore and overworked. Another loop, was this just included to make distance? Carrying kit packed for 24 hours eventualities is no lightweight matter. I was angry that we had had to walk another meaningless loop for one and a half hours. We passed over the road, gladly refilling our water and continued down 1km of steep road to the top of the cliffs at the abseil point. Another team had written “lava” in the road, and the time. Interesting Geology abounded. I was tired and sore.
There was a 40 minute wait for the teams ahead of us, and so I gladly lay down under the shade of a sweet thorn tree, flicked a tick off my knee into the grass, and enjoyed a little doze.
The abseiling marshals entertained us with their antics, they had been there a long time in the sun, and it must be thankless work. A team ahead had not tied their carabineers’ to the return rope and we had to get all the equipment rounded up before we could continue. The team behind us arrived to wait, chatting maybe nervously at the thought of the 30m cliff face. “I Lava you baby” they joked with Sue.
Sue went down the cliff. Easy. Me down , then William. Quick. Fun. An experience to think back on. Abseiling has purpose. It’s the way you would get down a cliff. It’s not a loop.
After the abseiling we hiked 5km down along the river bed in the valley. The first part consisted of large sheets of basalt rock, across which the water ran, heated up by the sun to about 40 degrees. Black coal like rock and black sand made up the shallow river bed.
Sue splashed into the warm water , and I followed, getting my shoes wet but knowing that wet socks always adds to the challenge to keeping feet in shape later on, but it just felt wonderful to be in the clean warm water of this pristine stream. William tried to keep his shoes dry as a good race discipline and he scolded us as we splashed carefree down the centre line of the valley, not needing to criss-cross and use energy boulder hopping. Our different opinions hung in the tired space between us for a while. Race moods are an interesting phenomenon, and by the time we joined herds of cows also walking along the river bed our minds had returned to a neutral happy hiking state.
The interesting downhill terrain made easy work of the 5km to the low water bridge. Although another loop back to the initial cycle road of the morning this loop had been necessary and fascinating. We had seen and done things you cannot and will not get to do if you don’t do adventure racing.
At the bridge too far, the Tube Marshals met us. They had been waiting for ages, bemused by the slow trickle feed of racers from the abseil. They wondered why we would carry on racing since we were so far to the back of the field, now 15 out of 18 teams.
We selected our tubes silently, each considering our own personal strategy for what a tube should do. Tube selection is an improper science. Theories abound at what is best in tube size but these were only discussed later. I chose the biggest, fattest tube on display and rolled it to centre of the bridge, turned downstream for 10 metres along the tiny river we had made friends with to where it joined the mighty burbling, spitting, frothingly turbulent and wild, in the corner on the right, Steelpoort River, in all its turmoil and strife. And we sat on its back and laughed and said “Take us 8km down to the bungalows, we’re tired and we want to relax for a while and rest”
And so the river pulled us down a frothy chute, and that was fun, but scary. And then another, and another and then towards the branch of a tree that had fallen across the fastest most unavoidable part of the current. Wimpie had said last night there was a tree that they would take out… But this tree was still there. The marshals parting words were “Keep left, especially at the weir”
Sue went first and under, and I counted 12, 13, 14 seconds with no sign of her surfacing. William went hurtling towards the tree and its catch and before I could see who was where and how I should perform a brave rescue for Sue I too was riding the tiger. Feet-up against the branch, tipping back, current catching my backpack, somersaulting backwards and down amongst branches and rocks, it all happened so quickly and then into the relative calm of a bigger pool. William was calmly collecting our tubes as we clambered shakily out onto a rock at the side of the pool. We looked at each other and decided we would ‘port’ across the next rapid, just to catch breath.
Sue placed her tube into the next part of the stream, sat down and was immediately up-ended by the waves onto the rocks, crashing her helmeted head hard onto the rocks. Thank goodness for the cycling helmets. It saved her life. She didn’t notice; climbed back on her tube and was gone in an instant. I followed because there was no alternative. No mommy standing by to run to and hold onto her legs. Down the next chute, the torrent ripping tube and me apart, I felt myself uncontrollably bumping my bum on rocks somewhere and my calf muscle going into cramping spasm. I floated up into the next pool next to a rock that looked like a grotesque blue whale and wondered if the pain was intense enough to mean a broken hip. Almost, but no, I can stand. William pulled me out onto the rocks beside the pool and fetched his errant water bottle. Continuing was the only way I could go, walking with this pain was not going to be an option for a while. Where was that weir? Ah, looking back we could see that we had passed it. At least we had kept left. It’s not like we had had a choice! We floated virtually uncontrollably along the bank on the left where green trees almost touched the flooded rivers surface. A very large baboon ran along the bank barking loudly at us. A movement from a branch and a loud plop into the water just 3 metres from me was probably a legavaan taking appropriate cover. Sue grinned like the Cheshire cat and confirmed it was the look on my face anticipating the mambas that drop out of trees just like this and in these conditions that was amusing her. Go Sue. She grinned like that for the rest of the river ride, until we rounded the river bend and saw the lapa of Bonomanzi and the photographers taking pictures of the flotsam coming down the river.
Of our greater team, only Nando did not have a close encounter at the tree. Maybe Wimpie, next time, send a photographer to snap up the action.
As for tubes, the agreed verdict is that your arms should be long enough in relation to the tubes bulkiness that you can actually reach the water and paddle. Note this Con, this is why you hate tubing over shooting rapids in your kayak.
River and tree 5, Lickety split 1.
From the tubes we hiked to the foofy-slide, a friendly welcoming marshal encouraging us with our preparations. “Don’t do anything; I’ll just push you off this 10 metre platform while you hang onto the pulley mechanism with arms that are exhausted. Don’t drop off because then I’ll have to make a plan to rescue you, and I’m not sure what that plan would be. We’d probably then need a helicopter or something”. Whizzz, down the steel rope, feet-up, perfect ski –landing. Great fun! “Do you guys want to go again?” No, just once is about all I can do, another day perhaps. We returned the pulleys and their safety straps and trudged a little distance up the hill to our very muddy bikes, changed into our still wet cleated cycling shoes and headed for the mountains. We were directed to go 300 metres up a stream, and look for a road to the left. After about 700 Metres William was starting to turn back, but I found the turnoff marked with bunting. And so we started our 20km mountain bike ride at about 5pm on Saturday afternoon, riding uphill again on another giant loop, whose purpose was to allow us to do game viewing. We saw no game, but let me tell you about the hornets.
Just after it got dark, my bikes rear tyre went soft; obviously a sweet thorn had attempted to foil the slime. So I sat on a bush to inject some CO2 from a gas cartridge, when about 8 or so hornets starting biting me on my face and behind my knees, their aim improved by my headlamp. Sue was called back from the darkness and was also set-on by the hornets who were determined not to allow our team to settle in for the night on their nest, so she rode off again and William, who the hornets had no problem with, helped me to get going. Those hornets bit and poked me and Sue for another 400Meters, both of us riding without our lights slapping and yelling each time one found their mark.
From that point it was pretty much downhill, and Sue rode fearlessly in the dark like someone who needed to get home. We paused three times at cross roads that had no markings or promised reflectors to show the race route, always choosing the most downhill direction. By and by we came to the locked gate to the game farm we were riding in, an arrow painted on the ground indicating we should be able to go through. We cycled back to where some park staff were sitting and asked how we could get through. They said a marshal had been there but had gone on and locked up. The list of teams only showed one Lickety Split team, not the two teams we were. The staff suggested we climb the fence, which is what we did, William taking pride in his ‘race discipline’ of fence sitting, and passing the bikes over. We then found another arrow pointing up the cycle route, decided that this was from the mornings ride now 16 hours previously, and turned towards base camp where we were welcomed by our teammates to a thunderous applause and reception. For some reason we seemed very grumpy for people who had finished a day of racing, with many complaints about locked gates, poor signage in the dark and the like. When our alto team queried why we had come from the North and not from the East we worked out that we should have done a final 2km loop, including a ride through a 1metre deep dam. Almost, but did we get the banana. We declared ourselves finished so that we could attend the prize giving, and slowly we were absorbed into the comfortable social sanity of a braai and a couple of ciders with our friends. Great race! Thanks to all the organizers and marshals.
| Discipline | Time of day | Average Speed in km/h | Distance in km | Total Distance in km | Duration in hours and minutes |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Start | 04:00:00 AM | 0 | 0 | ||
| 27km MTB | 07:51:00 AM | 7 | 27 | 27 | 3:51 |
| 15km Hike | 11:11:00 AM | 4.5 | 15 | 42 | 3:20 |
| 7km Hiking | 01:11:00 PM | 3.5 | 7 | 49 | 2:00 |
| 1km Hike | 01:28:00 PM | 3.5 | 1 | 50 | 0:17 |
| 30m Abseil | 02:08:00 PM | 40min | 0.03 | 50 | 0:40 |
| 5km Hike | 03:33:00 PM | 3.5 | 5 | 55 | 1:25 |
| 5km tubing | 04:58:00 PM | 3.5 | 5 | 60 | 1:25 |
| 1km Hike | 05:15:00 PM | 3.5 | 1 | 61 | 0:17 |
| 20km MTB | 08:35:00 PM | 6 | 20 | 81 | 3:20 |
| 2km MTB Loop | 08:35:00 PM | - | 2 | 83 | 0:00 |
| Total | 08:35:00 PM | 4.375 | 83.03 | 16:35 |
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