Day 2 I read somewhere that watching a sunrise is like watching a maiden rise out of bath, some prettier than others but each full of its own delights and promise. On this day the sun did not rise and the promise this day held was dark, almost evil. The clouds hung dark and heavy over Mackenzie and the organizers announced that the start of the day would be delayed until there was sufficient light and clearing of the cloud cover for the chopper to become airborne. They cited rider safety and the ability to airlift those that where seriously injured out of the valley as the reason. This was not good enough for me, I needed the day to be cancelled, I was in no state to leave the comfort of the Blue Portaloo let alone ride a MTBike for 98kms with an ascent in excess of 2000m. I could see the concern on. Red's face and I just knew he was going to sympathize until he said "After abusing that Blue Portaloo and your mad cow exploits on Xumeni I gonna call you Blue Bomber and we're going to finish today's stage even if you die, I haven't paid all this money, trained this hard and driven all this way not to finish, death is the only excuse I'll accept". So I tried to die but I couldn't, my wife flashed before my eyes, she would moer me if I died. The next challenge for the day was the announcement that despite the delayed start the cut offs remained the same. Now cut offs have never really featured in my planning but today, I was mortal, this was going to be challenging. To get Red off my back I contemplated faking a mechanical but I realized that the engineer in me would not allow this and I was more likely to fake a male orgasm than a mechanical, so this was not an option. I negotiated revised tactics with Red, we were no longer racing his granny, this was about survival and the simple fact was that my pace was the team's pace. No matter where Red was, my job was to keep going, Red's job was to catch up if he was behind and to stay with me and help where he can. We also knew that the descent into the Umko valley was crucial and if I got caught behind less competent riders my mad cow was going to be of little use, the muddy conditions also suggested that even competent riders were going to be challenged. We set off the stage in the rain with little rivulets disguising the small ruts in the farm road, the bunch was very twitchy so I bombed down the left on the first descent and got myself in front of the bunch, not once did I even bother about Red's whereabouts. The plan was working but I could feel that although the Immodiums where doing their job I had no strength in my legs and I had no confidence in my stamina. If only I could stay in front until the descent, hang in there Blue I said to myself, just hang in there. For those of you that have had the pleasure of riding Day 2 of the Sani you will agree with me that there is no vista to match the first glimpse of the Umko valley. One moment you are riding on a forest jeep track and the next this spectacular view reveals itself in all it's splendor. The valley is accentuated on the north side by sheer vertical red cliff faces hundreds of meters in height, eroded over millions of years by the ebb and flow of the mighty Umkomaas river to leave something resembling an Al Fresco montage of rock figurines of sentinels, as if our ancestors had formed a guard of honour to our left as we embark on the great descent. The Umko river itself is like a silver serpent glimmering in the early morning sun shining ahead of us to mark our way forward to the sea, how far away this seems. But today was different there were no red sentinels no glimmering serpents to show us the way. What we found was dark clouds heavily laden with evil intent, the chatter in the bunch ceased immediately almost as if someone unplugged the sound, silence. The jeep track switched back and the first descent started and what we encountered was mud of the darkest origins. It was as black as orc's blood and as slippery as a President facing an arms enquiry. There were more riders off their bikes than on, those that tried to stand up found themselves performing a series of steps that can at best be described as a grotesque combination of Michael Jackson's moonwalk and St Vitus dance. There were riders that were descending on their butts emulating tobogganing without the toboggan. It was not a pretty sight and the forestry watercart after the little river crossing caused a mini riot as riders were fighting to get to the hosepipe to clean the mud off the derailleurs, we hadn't even started the real descent yet and we had already caught 3 batches. I approached Murray's Meander with serious intent, preying on the slightest mistake from the rider in front of me. A slightly wider turn at the switchback equalled an opportunity for me to cut back on the inside line to pass, often forcing me to make contact with the other rider, these guys weren't polite. A couple of fallers were passed with a well timed bunny hop over the stranded bicycle. I was making progress but a lot slower than I could if I could just let the Mad Cow loose. I had no idea where Red was nor did I look for him I just focused on the job of getting to St Josephine's Bridge as quickly as possible. In fact Red and I calculated that I needed to get to St Josephine's with 45 min to spare on the cut off time otherwise I would not make the cut off at Nandos, considering that the climb out of the valley is brutal and I was faced with a dual dilemma of no legs and as per the famous words of Roberto Duran "no mas". I caught up with Red's granny on the flat section just before the waterpoint and I was about to say hello when she suddenly skidded off into the bushes coming to halt with a spectacular dismount and got so entangled between a sapling and her bike that it took two of us to extract her. She thanked us and said with huge smile "Isn't today just such jolly good fun", tough chick this! I arrived at the waterpoint and was told that we made the cut off with wait for it ....... 45 minutes to spare! Red had not arrived yet and I knew that I had to keep going, I was getting anxious, but we had agreed that the only place that we would wait for each other was at the waterpoints. I struck up a conversation with another Hubber Meent, who was contemplating withdrawing due to fatal mechanical when Red arrived. "Carry on Blue I'll catch you". I set off on what I knew was going to be one of my most difficult days on a bike, if it was going to harder than the riding into the gale force wind on 1995 Durban Ironman bike or not, was resting heavily on my mind. Another thing that occupied my thoughts was the advice of a colleague at his retirement bash at work, he told me that there are three things to remember about life after retirement. One is that you should see every toilet as an opportunity not to be missed. Two, never trust a fart and three when it comes to a stiffy the use it or lose rule has validity. I was contemplating these pearls of wisdom when the Immodiums hoisted the white flag deleting the last pearl immediately and elevating the first two into prime spot for consideration. Perhaps after reading my little story you might have formed the impression that I'm a bit of a Boy Scout, always prepared. Now, I have a Camelback that sleeps four and it was laden with toilet paper, I was indeed prepared for the inevitable. At the first opportunity I darted off into the bush to eject the offending matter from my body and that's when I realized that my decision to wear bib shorts for the longest day was the worst decision of my life. Bib shorts and a quick strip are not synonymous, this fact would haunt me for quite sometime. Back on the bike I managed to catch Red's granny at one of the numerous river crossings on Steve's Spruit. This section had become a mudfest, the track had been decimated by the riders ahead of us and this was creating serious problems for the lady and I managed to ride away from her only to have her pass me when nature made its inevitable intrusion on my progress. I somehow got to the long district road climb to Nandos ahead of Red and his granny who passed me with a smile that had me wondering whether it was fud or mud on my shorts. The climb was hell, it felt like I had worn away all the muscles in my legs and all I was using was sinews and they were taking serious strain, all the while looking back for Red. I was getting worried about Red, did he pick up a mechanical, a fall maybe? Stick to the plan I told myself just get to Nandos and we'll sort it out from there, progress was slow and I was being passed by every man and his bike. Those that could speak asked me if I was okay, clearly I was not looking good at all. I was starting to get dizzy and at one stage I thought that I was playing pinball until I realized that the bells that I was hearing was another rider ringing his bike's bell to warn me that he was coming through " Hold your line Boet you are all over the road". I got to Nandos and collapsed in a heap, the medics rushed over to assist but someone said "Leave him he is just looking for attention"! It was Red, he had somehow passed me at one of my pitstops and had been waiting for me to arrive. He was standing over me stuffing his face with a chicken burger " this is my third burger do you want one?" I tried to puke on his shoes but the bastard moved to fast. " Blue you did great we're an hour and half within the cut off time" Red started to give me a bear hug but stopped, pulled up his nose and said "You smell funny". Feeling a bit self conscious I slowly gathered myself and raided the portaloos for toilet paper before setting off for the next water point. The descent before Push of a Climb was a welcome relief and I bolted across the little stream to get enough momentum for the ascent when I heard an almighty crash behind me. Red had slipped on the smooth wet rocks and cut his knee, the blood flowing down his shin. The look in his eyes told me he was in pain and in need of sympathy. So I looked him in the eye and said "I am calling you Red Bleeder from here on and we still have 30km to go so stop feeling sorry for yourself". Push of a Climb is not an easy ride and all I could ride was about a third of it, Red managed a lot more. The weather took a turn for the worse at the top of the climb as the clouds darkened further and the temperature dropped by at least 5 degrees. The ride into the finish was relatively uneventful but the pit stops were thankfully less frequent. Bleeder and Bomber rode into Jolivet in near darkness with almost two hours to spare, the riders behind us were going to finish in the dark. This was the first time I thought of anyone other than myself or Bleeder in that order mind you. Shivering from the cold and low blood sugar I started guzzling down as many cokes as I could while I contemplated how I was going to recover for the next day, but that is another story all of its own.
