Eleven Wise Monkeys

Pity the stage was 120km.

We left Tulbagh knowing that the first 40km to WP1 (water point) was long gravel roads and fast jeep track. Sitting behind a lead rider the slipstream offers up to 25% advantage in effort required so bunch riding was going to be critical to maintain our placing. It took some really hard riding just to shelter in the group and at WP1 we were only 11 minutes off the leaders. This probably sowed the seeds the of the problems we were to experience later.

A stiff loose to rocky climb up behind Kluitjies Kraal provided a bit of water and nurtured the budding problem. Apart from being steep, the loose rocks require extra effort to keep the momentum up and the bike moving forward. And it makes for a very narrow line which you have keep to so balance and direction is also important. The rider in front is invariably less competent than you are (by your reckoning anyway) and when they go off line and/ or get bumped to a stop by a rock, you have to stop too. Argh! From time to time you get bumped to a halt too but then it was not a lack of competence. Just bad luck!

After the descent we hit gravel road all the way to the tar of Bainskloof. This was taken at a reasonable pace behind an ill Yolande de Villiers who was sheparded by her partner Johan Labuschagne. The tar up and over Bainskloof didn’t suit Jayson even though we took it at a fairly relaxed pace. Probably the fertilizer to our blossoming collapse.

Swooping singletrack saw us through to WP3 where a crowd of spectators were gathered enjoying the public holiday. Laura came through with the kids so it was great to see her with Michael and Jane. A quick hullo and we were off again.

Not for long though! About 3 km further on our little bud was a full grown raging Venus flytrap. Poor Jayson. On reflection he puts it down to not being able to eat, or remember to eat, during the frenetic first few hours so be experienced a full blown “bonk”. Cycling speak for the wheels coming off physically. Just as we were starting up the last major climb of the day.

At the time we were in a pine plantation so we sat in the shade for a while. after about 5 mins he climbed back on the bike and cycling another, oh, 10 meters or so before climbing off again. After 4 days of intense cycling, The Cyclist (see http://www.everybitcount.com) was floored.

After a while we cycled on slowly and as with all good things, the climb came to an end. Near the top we stopped at a small stream and filled our bottles with the Capes finest mountain water and poured a whole lot more over or heads. The renowned single-track descent put a smile back on his face and a spring back in his pedal strokes. One more effort up and over the last bump and we were screaming down the gravel roads to the finish in Wellington.

Like all good speeches we had a good beginning and a good ending. It was just a bit in the middle where we went off script and had to ad lib.

Some of the truly incredible photography by a different set of professionals!

As the cutoff for Stage 3 approached, I wandered over to the finish line not expecting the drama that was about to unfold.

Riders need to complete the stage in the allotted time which is set depending on the length and difficulty of the stage. Yesterdays monster had an 11 hour cutoff but today’s more modest 94km only qualified for 8 hours. If a rider missed the cutoff they are allocated a “blue” number board and can continue the next day, although you would not not qualify as an official finisher even if you do make it through to the end at Lourensford. Miss a second cutoff and you are not allowed to continue riding.

With about 5 minutes to go an team crossed the line. One of the rider’s faces was just a bloody mask. He had a big gash on his forehead and was clearly exhausted. So much so that he could not get off the bike and just fell over with his feet still clipped in. Immediately 2 medical staff were in attendance. And about 13 photographers. Including the TV cameraman who had rushed over to interview the unfortunate guy. I tried to take a photo (!?!) but there were too many other paparazzi in the way. Perhaps a good thing.

Then the countdown started. With just 20s to go a desperate solo rider came around the final corner. 15s – You need a bigger gear shouted the announcer. 10s – the crowd is clapping an whistling. With just 4s to go he made the line looking shattered. He stood with his bike looking forlornly back along the finishing straight. His partner not in sight. Quite an emotional moment.

Where, oh where, are you….

About 2 minutes after the cutoff another team rolled across the line. They were already blue boarded and can therefore not continue tomorrow. This is no ordinary team though. Both riders in the team are significantly disabled, each missing a limb – one an arm and other a leg – riding with prosthetics. How hard must that be?

Just a little further along you pass through the Woolworths refuel zone. Or rather, you don’t. Itt looks a lot like a war zone with muddy, bruised and blooded riders in collapsed on the grass in the shade of the bedouin tent wondering what on earth they have just done to themselves.

Then I wandered over to the medical tent. Every bed was full and there was a take a number system on the go. Riders being patched up, riders on drips for dehydration (it had been 40dC in the orchards on the slopes above Tulbagh), riders with there shorts around their ankles having the nether regions attended to, riders incoherent and unable to explain what the problem is. At the finish line I saw one rider holding his styrofoam cup of coke, but shaking so much it was splashing right out the cup.

These scenes of course were hours in the future as we set out from Saronsberg at 7am this morning. It was still positively chilly and we were all good to go. Mostly!

The route was of course up and down. As usual. With only 22km to go we entered a farm at the head of the Tulbagh valley called “Bergplaas”. (Mountain farm). Not a good sign! Why couldn’t it be “Vlakteplaas”. (Farm on the plain) It certainly lived up to it’s name – what on earth do they farm there? Slopes for other less advantaged farmers who would like a bit of interest on their farms??

We had a bit of a bio-mechanical issue. The past three days had taken their toll and about half way through Jayson hit a low. At last! I was very happy to back off a bit. Well, quite a lot really. So for about an hour I was able to enjoy the amazing views over the Tulbagh valley despite quite a number of teams slipping past. It didn’t last though and after the big climbs, he put the hammer down and we raced to the finish in a furious blur. Somehow when Jayson gets a sniff of the finish line the red mist descends. In fact, after leading past three team at a pace they couldn’t follow, I gave up the lead to recover. I missed the line around the next corner and looked up to see Jayson sprinting away! It took a loud and stern shout or three to rein him back! Poor form partner ;-))

Helmet hair. Stylish?

It’s a little late to be filling you in on the what happened yesterday on Stage 1 as I am sitting here at at the Saronsberg wine farm near Tulbagh, after having survived Stage 2! So perhaps it’s worth making this a double and my conscience will be clear. In that regard anyway!

The event puts riders up in tents. You don’t have to share (unless you want to, but that’s a different issue), but even for a single rider the tent is a little cramped. Inside is space for one foam mattress on one side and your kit bag. These are provided and are the only ones that will be transported between the villages. Typically the large duffle bag opens from the top so you can squash all your stuff in and retrieve it the sam way. This year there are problem. The race bags are awesome – wheelie jobs with extendable handles so no lugging them around form truck to tent on spent legs. And they have a number of compartments so you don’t have to strew everything around the tent each time you are looking for any item. Which is what basically happens no matter what you are looking for. Torch – unpack, repack. Wet wipes – unpack, repack. Book? Unpack repack. Beanie? You get the idea. So compartments are a good thing, right? Well, in reality to access the compartments you have to slice your bag open (the zipper is useful for this) and spatchcock the bag. Now it is lying across your mattress too. Which is where you were sitting a moment ago. So, now your butt is hanging out the opening as you scrabble around in compartment after compartment, unpacking the lot to find your torch. Good for airline travel, and/or hotel stays but not to clever in a 2sqm tent!

The race village at Citrusdal

And there are many other reasons to give the tents a miss. They are hot in the afternoon to rest in. They are noisy at night to go to sleep in and there is always, always some hearty individual who insists on getting up at 4.30am and jabbering loudly to his mate. What do they think?!? Everyone else is deaf? Selfish gits!

The tent village makes for scenic pics, but is not that comfortable.

Which is one of the many reasons I am soooo glad to be in a mobile home rather than a tent. Not only this, but we also have an angel of mercy looking after us. My physio, Sarah Walker is our camp master, driver, shopper, laundress, supporter and organiser. And she patches our bodies up after each stage. We break ’em, she mends ’em. Sarah has been really amazing and I cannot begin to describe the difference it makes to be looked after like this.

The team on the start line

And so to the riding itself. Rather than a blow by blow of this climb, that descent, the sun, the wind blah blah, I thought I would mention a few incidents that stood out for me.

Stage 1 was a loop around Citrusdal. Fortuntely it had been shortened to “only” 96km as the last climb had been ravaged by a recent bush fire in the area. On the first rough rocky descent lost my rear water bottle. Pretty much a calamity. Fortunately Jayson was able to stop and retrieve it, stuffing it into a his jersey pocket. The twist was that not much further down, Jayson noticed his front water bottle cage had come adrift and was hanging on by just one bolt. So out came his bottle and was stuffed into the other side jersey pocket. If you knew how small these pockets are, you would know that it was quite a feat to complete the descent and not lose the bottles yet again!

Around and about Citrusdal

The big story of the day was the sand. Many of the riders were complaining bitterly about the amount of walking (they always do!) due to congestion and sand. Riding through sand is quite tricky. On a downhill it can be managed at speed – Jayson commented that once when he looked down we were doing close on 60kph through one particular patch. The trick is to float the front wheel with your weight rearwards, let the wheel find it’s own line and, duh, keep you balance as it does so. If necessary pedal like crazy to keep up the momentum. If you need to scrub some speed, do not use the front brake at all s it digs the wheel in and you are bound to go off line and brought to a halt. Not all riders manage this so, apart from hiking all the uphill sand and much of the flat sand, they even had to hike-a-bike through the downhill stretches. The route designer, Dr Evil tweeted “This ain’t the Cape Easy!”. he also mentioned that after 6h15 minutes with only 80 of the 600 team is he had done enough damage for the day and was going to ground lest he be found by some of the less than happy riders.

One unfortunate professional, Robert Mennen, hit a small buck that was crossing the track and broke his collarbone in the resulting crash. The buck was fine. There were other collarbones in need of repair apart from Roberts. 80 riders did not complete the stage or were outside the 9 hour cutoff! If a Pro rider finishes but loses his partner, he then has to wear an “Outcast” jersey which signals that he may not interfere with the race result by assisting any other team by, for example, sharing his spares or, even, donating a wheel to a team still in contention. The Outcast jersey – how appropriate where just being a survivor is a challenge!

Jayson and I finished the stage in about 6h06m and were 73rd overall. Another surprising result. Buut we’ll take it.

Stage 2 took us from Citrusdal though to the Saronsberg wine farm near Tulbagh. This required roughly 147km so some of it had to be on gravel roads. Quite a bit I guess. But not at all easy! Leaving the village we headed straight up the 18km Middleberg pass climbing 900m in 1h10m of grinding upwards. But there were some interesting sections. About 5km of single track in the Cederberg area and an really challenging 8km technical single track descent down 900m of rocky nightmares (big rocks, sharp rocks, round boulders, loose boulders and stones), familiar loose sand a scary tracks with the lower slope exposed by a recent bush fire. By far the most demanding technical section I have ridden.

Up the Middleberg pass

Jose Hermida (yes a pro!) through the Cederberg single-track with it’s characteristic rock formations

Local supporters

And that was about it for interesting bits on stage 2!

A tough day at the office. We dropped down a few places to finish 80th on the day in about 7h07m. But we maintained on to 73rd in the overall GC riding a total if 14h25m for the 265km covered so far. We really have to slow dow tomorrow!

Stage 2 done and dusty (sic).

Before we get on to the prologue, a little background info on the format of the Cape Epic race.

Obviously we ride mountain bikes. The course follows (a little) tar, (more) district roads, (lots of) farm roads, (some) rugged jeep track and as much single-track as possible. The route designer, Leon Evans a.k.a. Dr Evil tries to find a balance between “real” mountain bike routes and having to cover the longer distances that the Epic is known for. You just can’t do 100km on only singletrack. It doesn’t exist and even if it did it would take all week! So there are “interesting” technically challenging sections linked by “less interesting” head down grinding-it-out sections.

One of the interesting bits

Perhaps less obviously, the Epic is a team event. Each team consists of two riders and rule 116, b, part 1 section iv, is that you must at all times be within 2 minutes of each other. This is an internationaly sanctioned UCI event and there are a lot of rules.

There are 600 teams so 1200 riders are all trying to do the same thing at the same time. A bit of a bun fight really with handbags often swing around in hissy fits. Participants vary from the top of the professional ladder to the “I just hope to make it through each day and not miss the cutoff”. Which is normally around 10 hours but is sometime 11 on really long or tough stages. Some don’t make it but the Pro’s of course do. Typically the Pro’s ride 4 and a half hours for about 100km.

The winning team is the one with the lowest total time over for the entire event. But stage wins are also prestigious so every day is a race within a race. And even in that there are category races on the go – Open (which is all comers but actually means young, extremely talented and well trained men), Masters (40+), Grand Masters (50+), Ladies (that, interestingly do not have age groupings) and Mixed (boy and girl, not just two confused Masters). There is also an African team category as the race is normally won by international professionals and the local media needs something to stir the hearts of the home fans.

This year, last years winner, the multiple world champion Christoph Sauser is teamed up with the current Olympic (amongst others) gold medalist Jaroslov Kulhavy. Christoph’s partner last year was Burry Stander who recently was tragically killed while out training for the event. His father and wife (widow) are also in the field and it is quite emotional for them as you can well understand.

Christoph and Jaroslav look nervously down the ramp. Not!

Kevin Evans and David George normally win the African leaders jersey, except this year David is, er, indisposed due to performance enhancing drug indiscretions and Kevin hasn’t recovered from an appendectomy on 15 January – 2011!!. No really. It never healed properly and despite racing since then he has had to have in drained again and again recently. Racing with a bag attached via a pipe through to your abdominal cavity is too much of a disadvantage.

The event takes place over 8 days starting with a short Prologue and is followed by 7 long stages. This year we lined up for the prologue at Meerendal Wine Farm and each team started separately, rolling down the ramp to thunderous applause from the rapturous crowd. Actually, I made that up. What really happens is that roll down nervously hoping not to end your event before it is even properly begun!

Our early start down the ramp

With the adrenaline flowing you always start far faster than you can realistically sustain so after about 5 mins you slow down and let your heart rate recover to a more reasonable 90% or so. Ha! Even that is not sustainable, but we did keep going up to the top of the first climb called Stairway to Heaven. Luckily were we randomly were allocated an early slot so with only 9 teams ahead of us we didn’t have that much traffic to contend with. A fast descent and across to the Hoogtekraal farm for the next climb with stunning views of Table Mountain rising above a blanket of morning fog. Then down. Then up. And down and up again, You get the general picture!

Amazing views on the prologue.

What is most interesting about the course is that after the start ramp, we turned straight into the historic Meerendal manor house. As in, we rode right through the hallway. In at the back door and out the front, down the two flights of steps onto the lawns and off.

Watching later we saw a number of riders walking down the short flights which did not bode well for some of the obstacles to follow. One rider even walked the first flight, hopped on and rode down the second flight. Go figure.

So, the answer to the poser in the title is 22km. For Jayson and I it took about 1h11m and we managed to clinch 81st place overall. While that might not sound brilliant, it is actually. So there!<

I am quite sure that I have previously wondered on these pages why any-(regular)-one would enter a multi-day test of endurance, will and character. Stage racing can be pretty tough going and yet along 1199 others I lined up it his morning to start the the untamed African mountain bike race that is the Cape Epic (www.cape-epic.com). Along with Jayson we rolled down the start ramp (quite a pro feel to that) at 6:48.10.

What does it take just to get to the start line?

Money is probably the first major obstacle. The entry fee to the Epic R36,000.00 for the team. A bike can cost anywhere from R20k (less than that wouldn’t survive) to upwards of R100,000 (more than that a your marriage wouldn’t survive)! Maintenance during training and the race could be as much as R20k over the period. Then there are the doctors visits, physio before and during and other medical needs (think saddle sores here).

Now let’s talk about the time commitment(Laura, if you are reading this, just skip this bit please). Most would train about six months for such an event. During that time I spent about around 300 hours in the saddle. In 2012 I rode 16011km. From the beginning of January to the event both Jayson and I averaged just under 15 hours riding per weekThen there is the running around doing bike stuff. Maintaining, cleaning and whatnot.

With the stuff above, it is quite clear that the most important component is an understanding, and occasionally, forgiving family. Without that, the whole endeavor just can’t happen. Even at gatherings of family or friends it’s often “bike bike bike bike bike bike bike” to quote Laura. This statement can be accompanied with a passing hand making whacky duck signs and, for maximum emphasis, rolling the eyes is fairly effective. The appropriate response is an slightly embarrassed shrug, quick smile and even quicker change of topic! But jokes aside, it’s a team event and the team is two families, not two individuals!

The doctor/physio visits mentioned above are part of the health problem. And it’s a real problem. You really just cannot afford to be sick enough not to train. Neither can you let an injury slow you down. And of course you don’t want to start the event feeling off color. So in the last few weeks it’s full defense time. Lots of hand sanitizer, keep away from anyone with a sniff, cough or poor complexion. Use your elbow for elevator buttons and you knuckles if you can’t. Always eat with your non dominant hand. You get the idea. I stop short of wearing a theatre style face mask – it’s not Tokyo after all.

A training partner is also a big help. Well, a few as there aren’t many who will be able to put as much time aside as you are. And with Jayson 13,000km away, any volunteers are gratefully taken up on offers that interrupt that voice in you head that asks, why. Why, why, why…….

And that is why just making the start line, reasonably fit, healthy and injury free is a victory in itself!