A nice read from Eric tonight as he reflects on his trip across the Klein Karoo and Breede River Valley and his last day tomorrow. Klein Karoo. The calm before the storm. Most of the riders leave Prince Albert in the very early hours of the morning but having never seen the famous Swartberg pass I opted to leave closer to sunrise so I could see this amazing feat of engineering. It's a long long climb up, with its impressive zig zags and tight turns before finally reaching the turn off west into the Gamkaskloof valley. It was around then that I started realizing the day was anything but simply riding up the pass and dropping into die hell. The road into the valley is neverending, with long climbs and descents before arriving at the very steep switchbacks to drop onto the valley floor. I got stuck on the switchbacks behind a grader that was churning a nice hard packed surface into mud and slush but thankfully the driver saw me in his mirror after a while and stopped, I clambered over the giant earth moving contraption one wheel at a time ( there was no simply going around it, not like road width is in abundance out there) before trying to get as far ahead of him down the zig zags as quickly as possible without having rocks landing on me from above. Not the best timed move in the history of overtaking! A quick ride on the green mossy valley road before arriving at the overnight stop, a rickety old Sprite caravan with a distinct Deliverance feel to it in the campsite, but what it lacked in comforts the hosts more than made up for with food and friendliness. I befriended the campers in the campsite next door that evening and enjoyed their fine company and roaring fire before hitting dreamland. The body has started its own weird ritual now, 7:30 pm it starts yawning, 8 pm it self destructs into a sleepy slumber. 1am wake up drenched in sweat no matter how cold you are (I remember this happening once in a while during peak training for big runs but its a daily occurrence out here) and anything from 3 to 5am is wake up time. The haul the next day out of the Gamkaskloof started with a gentle 10kms along the valley floor, over the Gamka river and enjoying the views of the canyon heading north to the dam just catching the early morning light. A few climbs up and down and then it was time to tackle one of the Freedom's legends, die leer - or the ladder. It's a rocky path that basically leads straight up the mountain to get out of the valley which is effectively a cul-de-sac. Bike on back and hiking up and up and up before eventually reaching the signpost, foolishly pulling the wool over your eyes that you're at the top. The track then continues its rocky way through a good few more valleys before eventually dropping down to the top of the Bosch Luis Kloof pass. This was back in familiar territory having been here a few months back so I took a few minutes to indulge in a long awaited cup of coffee. Nearby the Seweweekspoort peak, dotted with snow, would make brief appearances from under its cloudy blanket before disappearing again. From here it was a wonderful afternoons riding alongside the Klein Swartberg mountains and into the farm Rouxpos, a magic setting in a beautiful valley tucked up right against the mountains. Another good meal and the legendary Rouxpos waffles preceded a good nights sleep. Another early start and a few hours riding before sunrise to get into the Anysberg where I had hoped to spend the night. Arriving early afternoon it was discovered that there was no bed available (the famous Cape Nature incompetence on its finest form again) but it was early enough and I knew most of the route ahead so quickly sorted my things and headed off again. It was a long days riding but arriving in Montagu by nightfall was a huge boost as I had made up a day and I enjoyed settling into the night at the fine establishment of the Montagu Country Hotel. Dinner in the nice posh restaurant in my orange croc slippers before succumbing to dreamland again. 3 more sleeps. The ride out of Montagu is spent dodging big trucks and cars on the R62 before swinging a left just beyond Ashton to take in some vineyards and the district roads to Mcgregor. It was great riding, the chilly morning air keeping everything nice and crisp with another beautiful sunrise behind me. One unexpected skill I've learnt on this ride is angry-dog-management. You can just see it coming as you approach labourers cottages, one minute everything is nice and peaceful the next you're hauling like there's no tomorrow with a farmyard special gnashing at your pedals. Out comes the water bottle, preferably the one with sticky concentrate juice, and fire away! Those dogs blessed with half a brain cell usually back off after the first shot but some of the more ignorant persistent ones just keep coming back for more, in the face, an eye full of it, up the nose, you name it they get it. All's fair in love and war out there. Arriving in Mcgregor midmorning meant there was time for a quick cup of tea and sandwich before starting up to the mountains. Following the main road through Montagu it climbs up gradually towards the mountains before becoming a dead end at the Greyton Mcgregor hiking trail. Somewhere along this road before the hikers cottages we swing west and go over the mountains and through the farms and veld, basically running parallel for a while to the hiking trail but one valley north, before picking up a farm road running to the farm Kasra which was to be my overnight stop. I had been forewarned about the wonderful hospitality at the Oestervanger, the guest cottage at Kasra, and it was as super as expected. Dinner was one of the best to date and I even savoured a few sips of Robertson red wine (they're patriotic about their wines out this way!) before again succumbing to the night time ritual. With all this wonderful food I do believe I may be one of the few riders arriving home having put on weight! This morning was admittedly a lazy start to the day, the sound of rain falling wasn't helping to get me going any faster but I set off at first light into soft rain that cleared as the morning grew light. Up and over the mountains again following the electric power lines, through fields and meadows, talking to the cows (its been almost two weeks on my own so I'll take whatever conversation I can get) before dropping down to the Brandvlei dam and up the valley to Trouthaven where I am spending tonight. This is a bitter sweet moment as I sit writing this tucked up in this valley with its steep walls on either side. It's difficult to imagine that there is one mountain range separating me from finally putting this journey to rest, but its in these last mountains that lies the sting in the tail of the Freedom Challenge. Stettynskloof. It's a name I've been dreaming of for 23 days and its a place I've been fearing for 2 years. It's a monster with a reputation as hard as they come, and its the Goliath standing tall out there right now. It's going to be one of those one step at a time episodes but I'm looking forward to getting in there and knuckling down to the fight tomorrow. The battle of Stettyns will be brutal without doubt but come hell or high water I'm getting over those mountains and to the finish tomorrow. I've made a good long haul out of this so far but I stand in absolute awe and respect at the people that rode this thing as if they just ride across the country every other week. The likes of the champions Martin and Jeannie that wrap it up in 12 days, Glenn flying over the Black Fountain mountains on his single speed to blitz it to Rhodes in a little over two days is unfathomable, and especially the Freight Train Five that made it look so easy - Guy, Ant, Shaun, Ted, and Martin - you guys are brilliant, very big respect indeed. Well, little else to do now but lie in wait for tomorrow. Sort bike. Sort pack. Sort mind. Then we tackle those last steps and bring this home.