So. Ride report / review / thing / jobbie. Here goes.
My return to Ezelenduro was in doubt due to budgetary issues, but thanks to the very kind actions of our very own Slowbee, I was sponsored an entry at the last minute, and therefore became (jokingly) "The Privateer". Albeit with far less talent, a bucketload more spare tyre and some dodgy training practices.
So, Friday came, and the car was packed. Bike, bed and (absent) mattresses, so that I could live the camper-van life for the weekend.
I had my lightie's monkey as a travel buddy, so we set off for the farm in Ceres, with clear skies and great tunes.
For those who haven't been there, the terrain is split between loose, dusty, fynbos-topped koppies on the one side, and ROCKY AF on the other. The former terrain would play host to the first 3 stages, with the King and Queen stages being on the latter.
I was staying with GreaseMonkey, PhilipV and a couple others, and as soon as I was in, I lit a fire. Can't camp without that, you know... Registration was at about 7, so we had a few biertjies while we waited for that to come through, and prepped our bikes and snacks for the race the next day. When Rupert called for registration, we moved through, said howzit to all the other riders that had pulled in and then went back to our camp for braai. We turned in reasonably early, knowing that the next day would be huge. For all of us. More than we'd know, to be honest.
The day dawned bright and early, and due to the later start time (9am instead of last year's 7am) we had a bit more time than normal for things like breakfast and coffee. Important things, those. Unfortunately, it seemed as if I'd picked up the beginnings of a cold, and my nose was running on full speed. Drat. Not a good start. However, the conditions were perfect, and would turn out to hold at a constant 24-25 degrees, with no wind and clear skies. Perfect conditions.
With the marshalls (who were also racing) having left at 8 to get to the start / finish points before the riders did, we went through to race briefing where we were greeted by Rupert (MC for the morning) who seemed to be channeling Wyn Masters and David Attenborough at the same time. Shaite was talked, strategies shared, and it was clear that a lot of people were a little apprehensive about the day ahead. 1,850m climbing over 48km isn't for the faint of heart. He gave us the low-down, the rules and the safety guidelines, and we were off.
My strategy for the day was simple. Keep my HR below 160, and my average speed above 6kph so that I can save my lungs and legs for the last 2 stages, which are the big ones, and the ones that I'd really come to ride. Last year I didn't get to stage 5, but this year I swore I would. I was riding with Greasemonkey, as we had similar times at Klipberg, and were sorta the same in terms of climbing speed and fitness. As soon as the climbing started for real, though, this strategy got kyboshed. I couldn't maintain a decent speed while also keeping my HR low. It just wouldn't come below 175bpm, which I can handle for a while, but wouldn't be sustainable for this race given my fitness level.
We got to the top of s1 with time to spare, going by my calcs for the required average speed. It was going well apart from the ridiculously high HR, which still wasn't getting below 130 even when waiting for our turn to drop in, which took 25 minutes. But stage one was a goodie, and I wanted to get a decent time on, or at least beat last year's time. It got to my turn, and I dropped in behind Henlu Starke (no chance of catching him) and dropped the hammer, so to speak. Turns out it was a ball-peen instead of a sledge, though.
Stage 1 is a loose, dusty moonscape of a stage, with loose off camber corners of goodness and a few jumps added for good measure. No real amount of rock, but the off cambers can catch you off guard and propel you into the short fynbos on the side of the trail. A couple of swift pedal strokes on the flatter sections, some foot out action on the corners and some low (slow) flying, and the stage was over. Result on st1 was 28s faster than last year (strava time) so definitely an improvement in speed!
The liaison to stage 2, though, was the one I was worried about. For good reason, too. We'd have to do it twice, as stage 2 started at the top of the koppie, and stage 3 started at the top of the next koppie along. That climb was 6km long and 400m climbing, with the climb back out to the next koppie (which was slightly lower) being 7km and 350m climbing.
On the way up, I couldn't get my HR down no matter what I tried. I tried pedalling slowly in granny (30x46) thereby losing precious time and distance to Greasemonkey, and my projected minimum speed requirement. Halfway up the climb, where there was a river crossing I used to replenish water in my bottle (carrying bottle and pack, cytomax in the bottle) I came across Harry (organiser) and a friend of mine, Daniel, and it was here where I made the decision to skip stage 2. This was backed up as a "good call" by them, who are both mega fit and strong, but could see that I was suffering badly. My nose was still trying to drown me in my own fluids, at this point, and this would be a constant battle for the rest of the day. I took the rest of the climb pretty easy in terms of speed, but still couldn't get my HR down below 170-175, and topped at 182. My avg HR for that climb was 169 - far higher than I would have been able to sustain for the next 7 1/2 hours on and off the bike.
I feel at this stage that I need to explain why I skipped stage 2. Ezel is, at its core, a mates race designed to push you beyond your comfort zone, both technically and fitness wise. I knew that if I did stage 2, I wouldn't have been able to do stage 5, which is what I REALLY wanted to do. It beat me last year, and it wasn't gonna beat me this year. I was going to get to the end, even if it meant skipping a stage to do so. That is, at the end of the day, what I came to Ezel to do. First, finish. If I couldn't finish, at least do stage 5. Damage control was in full swing, due to me not being able to control my HR properly, and so I made a decision. It's one I would make again, and again.
About 2/3rds of the way up the climb to stage 3, I met up with Bergfiets (who I was also staying with, and was one of the marshalls who had left an hour before us) and he had started cramping badly, getting off his bike as soon as there was an inkling of climbing, as he just couldn't put the power down. I asked him to radio to the top of st2, to tell them that I would be skipping it, and avoiding any confusion that may have arisen as a result of me skipping that stage. That done, we made our way up to the top of st3 slowly, where we were passed by the front-runners, Julien Louw and his crew (crazy fit bastards that they are) who had started stage 1 a full 40 min before I dropped in, due to the wait at the top of the trail. They were making their way up to 3 after having done 2, and climbed back up.
After stopping for a bite to eat (now 3 hours in to the ride) I donned my chin-bar, took a slukkie of water and energy drink, and battled stage 3, affectionately known as "the rut". There's this rut that runs almost the full length of the trail, formed by water erosion, and you need to stay out of it to have a clean run. This is treacherous, as there are sniper roots and rocks just waiting for a meaty pedal or crank or wheel to take a nibble on, and end your day. I managed to stay out of the rut, with no mishaps, and took the trail as fast as I could, shaving 10s off last year's time. Foot out, flat out. Off camber corners (again! AWESOME) and loose, stony powdery soil. Anti-grip, essentially. Fast, flowy and loose. Loved it. But I got to the end, timed out and made my lonely way to the beginning of stage 4.
Lonely was the adjective of choice for that liaison, as I wouldn't see another soul until a full 90 min later, when some other front-runners (child prodigy Luke Moir, his dad Mark, Matt Lombardi, Frankie du Toit etc) caught up to me. Most of them said it was a good choice for me to skip 2 in favour of 5, due to the utter brutality of doing that climb out twice, and my fitness compared to theirs.
The traverse to stage 4 is a monster in its own right. Rolling hills, sure, but with little speed-sapping boulders strewn all over the place. You could never dodge them, and they were all over. Momentum robbing bastards, they are. The traverse, however, didn't take as long as I remembered it taking last year, and landmarks came upon me sooner than I expected. Thankfully, there was a little jeep track section where I could regain some of my lost energy, eat another baby tater and drink some fluids. Then, the hike-a-bike section started, and the suffering was laid on.
This is where I found out just how handy an old tyre lashed to the downtube can help in a hike-a-bike situation. Instead of holding on to the cranks and fork, and holding it in position by sheer force, the tyre gripped on my pack and I could just hold the front wheel with a finger to keep it in position. It was honestly a revelation compared to last year, where my arms also got hammered while carrying the bike. It's still not easy, and it's bloody hard work carrying my tank of a bike, but it was far easier to do so this time around. The hike started, though, and I got to the top of stage 4 2 hours after leaving stage 3.
After some lunch, and after Matt, Frankie, Luke and all the fast guys had dropped in, I took my chance. I was ready for it. Bring on the best stage of the day. In my eyes, at least. Up to this point (and incl stage 2, which the other riders had told me about, and I had ridden sections of previously on trips to Ezel) the riding had been loose, but not sketchy. This, though, was a different matter. Loose rock on a base of rock. It's all out, and it's a pump-fest. By pump-fest, I mean that it won't matter whether you hold your coward levers or not (and you need to, for the sneaky AF rock-marked corners) you will get arm pump. You will get hand pump. You will get leg pump, lung pump and leg pump. It's just inevitable. Last year, one of my riding buddies said FK THIS, halfway down, and stopped to have a sandwich. In the middle of the stage. Just because he was so darn sore. But I digress. I drop in, give it horns, and hold on for dear sweet life.
Imagine rocks. Then more rocks. And then add some more, some good sized drops, some rocky chutes, loose rock, bedrock, and more rock for good measure. Now make every rock on top of the trail, apart from the bedrock, loose. It was like Dingleberries at klipberg, but not as steep and 10 times longer. And faster. You can only hold on for dear life, and it's EXILHARATING. My tyres were perfect, pressures harder than I normally run them, yet I still got rim-strikes on my front wheel and back wheel. Thank goodness for strong casings. Now, add water. This year, the weather has been kinder to Ceres than last year, and there are rivers coming down the mountain. One of these rivers just happened to flow along the rocky rocky chutey droppy trail, for a fair distance of the trail. I came across it and it felt like I was hitting the trapeze on a Dart, off the coast of some exotic town in the Med, except that I was on my bike, trying not to let my wheel slide toooo much left or right, and trying to keep my eyes on the trail ahead - which I could only identify by the river going down it. Water being splashed up by the tyres, smashed into my face and obscuring my vision for what felt like ages, but was only probably about a minute. I didn't care. It was bliss. Until I got a bit too far back and low down a drop, my wheel hit a loose rock and my sack punted the back of my saddle harder than a fat kid hits an all you can eat buffet. Cue curdling yell, immense discomfort and I dunno how long of catching my breath, and I carried on. More rocky rocky loose ****, stuff that I could eat for breakfast. I put all I can into the last section, hearing rocks pinging my rims left right and centre, and finish 3m30 faster than last year on the same trail. Result. Definite, noticeable progression, with a nut-punch halfway through. I'll take it.
At this point, it was 14h40, and my decision to skip stage 2 was confirmed as the correct one. After sharing stories, chowing some more food, helping people out with mechanicals before moving on to stage 5, and just revelling in the complete and utter MTB Nirvana that was stage 4, I moved on to stage 5 to begin the dreaded ascent. 2.9km and 350m ascent, SOLELY hike-a-bike. One of my riding buddies (a guy far, far, far fitter than I, who had done all the stages to this point) decided to call it a day. He was just utterly broken, and had left it all on the line while nursing the tail end of the flu. I got to the bottom of st5, had a Red Bull and started climbing just on 15h30. It would take me 1h51 to get to the top of the trail. Utterly, completely broken. But damn happy to get there.
After the last little bit of food (taters and some pork tjop) and a bit more water, I headed on down the stage. If stage 4 is MTB Nirvana, stage 5 is (in the right conditions) MTB Bliss. Steeper, not as loose, but more... tricky. Not as gnarly, but with lines and features you had to think about instead of just holding on for dear life and putting on your big-boy pants. It was, again, just my type of trail. Biggish features, no jumps, but loads of technicality and although not as loose as stage 4, still darn loose compared to anything in Cape Town. Which is saying something... So I dropped in, and tried my hardest to hold on now that I was utterly spent. Drops, chutes, rocky loose landings and a few sniper hills thrown in for good measure, and I thought I was going well. Until I got to a left hand corner which had a rocky droppy outer line, and a much, much smoother inner line. I took the outer line out of sheer stupidity, my wheel got caught in a hole and I went OTB, head-first into the granite rocks lining the trail. Quad and arm caught between the dropped saddle and the top tube, I lay down and wrestled with the bike for three minutes trying to get myself untangled without hurting myself even more, then, once I'd got myself up and out I inspected my bike. Twisted bars (straightened them) and a bent front brake lever, but I was tired and disoriented and all my confidence was gone. Braking everywhere I shouldn't, giving myself many more almost oOTB's in the process, then losing drive when the upper jockey wheel almost came undone, and the chain slipped between the cage and jockey wheel. Luckily the bolt was juuuust holding, and I managed to get it fixed after 7 minutes of struggling, and continued down the mountain. By this point, I was utterly wasted, had no confidence and wasn't seeing straight, but it was bloody amazing. No energy to pedal up the sniper climbs, I ran up them and hopped back on the bike to make my way down in the longest stage 5 time of the day of 26 minutes. High fives were shared, and beer was calling.
That was it. Over. Done. Not completed, but most of my goal achieved. I conquered stage 5 (or did it conquer me?) and did more than I did last year. 1,400m & 37.84km vs 1,146m & 31.21km. Not the full Ezel experience, granted, but one that, in my mind, was close fkn enough. Avg HR was 164, incl those times I stopped for a bite to eat and at the top of the stages. I only stopped when necessary (top of stage one when there wasn't a choice, refill water, eat & go and then once I knew I'd make stage 5 in time) and I carried on moving as much as I could.
The evening wrapped up with a massive party at stage 6 (the bar) with Matt Lombardi beating Luke Moir and Keira Duncan to the post in the mens' overall, while in the ladies Frankie du Toit pipped Steffanie Groossman & Louise Kotze. Frankie got a STELLAR 27th overall in a stacked field. The potjie was great, the vibe was insane, and the people were, as always, awesome. If anyone wants to do an event which is thoroughly tough, filled with like-minded people with a love for MTB and pushing themselves, as well as a lekker party vibe after, you can't go wrong with Ezel.
Would I make the same decision again, and skip stage 2? If I were in the same position, and feeling like I was - you betcha.
I'll be back in 2020.
Thanks to Dan, Harry, Rupert, all the marshalls & sponsors for making this teriffic event possible. As for the guys on hardtails - you mal mense. More pics will come once I can edit them down. A few panos are too large at the moment.
Peace.
