Part 2:
RV1 (Van Der Kloof) to RV2 (Britstown):
Oren and I were joined by Simon, and we headed off into the Rolfontein nature reserve. It was damp on the trail and the wind swirled – when it was blowing from the front it was brutal. The nature reserve was hilly with some steep inclines and declines. Once again, my 2.6 Ikon on the front was sure footed. Passing Petrusville – the town was like a ghost town – that went pass in a blur. I then headed out of town and turned right on the gravel road heading to WP3 at 308km. I had pulled ahead of Oren and Simon a bit and enjoyed the relatively smooth gravel road. This went on for km after km. Overhead it was cloudy and the smell of rain was in the air. Not a good sign. I had hoped that I would pass it. Not to be. It started spitting ever so slightly and then a little harder as each minute passed. I had my windproof jacket on but that was started to get soaked. I stopped and pulled out the black refuse bag I had brought with. I bit some holes in it for my arms and head. I also brought a light peak cap along and put that on to extend the cover over my face to keep the rain off. That worked so well. It started raining more steadily and in no time, it was properly pouring. The road slowly developed small streams of water and the jeep track became very soggy and slippery. A few times my rear wheel tried to come past me, but I powered on and corrected it. Time flew by as I was concentrating so much on keeping upright. Soon the rain stopped but the underfoot conditions were tricky. Mud quickly started accumulating on my frame. It was everywhere. The horizon started to lighten up and the first sunrise of my Munga was spectacular. Rolling into WP3 I saw a few bikes against the wall. Some riders were taking a quick break. I spotted a windmill and a hosepipe. So, first course of action was to wash down my bike. I reckon I washed off at least 1-2kg of mud from the bike. Once done I headed in and had some breakfast. Not long thereafter Oren and Simon arrived. It was good to share our experiences over a boerie roll and a Super M chocolate milkshake.
On to the next section to WP4. I don’t remember much of this section as it was not very stimulating. Endless corrugated gravel roads. The wind started to pick up and the thermometer started rising steadily. I felt good though and it was not long into this section when I passed 361km. My longest ride to date. I took a moment to take that in. Now I was in completely unknown territory – physically and mentally. That was scary. I tried not to think to much about it. **** what would 600km and even 800km feel like. I smiled and looked forward to that feeling. The kms rolled on and Oren and I kept up a steady pace. WP4 came and went. It was proper hot now and the wind started to blow that much harder.
The last stretch of gravel road just before the Britstown tar road into town would not end. It was now blistering hot, but we kept a steady pace. As we reached the tar road we had to concentrate as there was a short detour section along the railway line. Soon we were rolling into Britstown proper and pulled into the RV2 at around noon. On target. 24 hours was my goal and I arrived feeling good but tired. 24 hours and 408km.
I had booked a 30min massage here - the thought was that I could kill two birds with one stone. Remove lactic acid from my muscles and also get some sleep. After a quick shower and a meal I had my massage and decided to sleep for 2 hours. The plan was to leave at 4pm. Sleep did not come easily. It was hot and the small fan in the room did nothing to cool me down. My mind was wired, and I was thinking of the next sections and what my timing goals were to be. On the Munga you are constantly calculating and recalculating distance and time. When I started out from Bloemfontein the day before I made a conscious decision I was not going to check or monitor my heart rate and would just ride on feel.
Km: 408
Time: 23:58
RV2 (Britstown) to RV3 (Loxton):
My alarm went off at 15:30 and I was relieved to be going again. In hindsight if I reflect on what was to come, I should have headed out after my massage earlier. Oren and I met downstairs and we headed out of town onto WP5 around 16:30. To our right was a spectacular Karoo thunderstorm brewing and it was super hot. Probably in the low 40s. The terrain was quite stimulating with rolling sections and some inclines. As we rode on the storm to our right came closer and the rolling thunder became louder and louder. It started spitting around me and I just thought – its very hot so even if I get wet I would not get cold. I kept riding with the ever-threatening storm only slightly wetting me. I was experiencing one of those Karoo phenomenoms where it will rain on one farm and the neighbouring farm gets nothing. I was on the cusp of that storm.
Just as the sun was setting for the second time on this ride, I saw a flickering light in the distance. I was catching the rider fast. They must be in trouble. Riding alongside I saw it was Jacques. He was suffering with nausea and was not in a good space. He was just trying to get to the next waterpoint. Till now I had been feeling great. I had good legs and had no niggles. Seeing Jacques like this the reality struck me – you can take nothing for granted. Even the seasoned and experienced riders can be struck with nausea or injury at any time. Nothing is a given. Up to now I was riding solo with Oren just a way off behind me. His knee was playing up and he was pushing through the pain barrier.
WP5 came a few minutes after the sun had set. I filled my bottles, had a few snacky things to eat and once Oren was ready to go, we left. This next section was mind numbing. It was a long stretch to Pampoenspoort and I quickly started struggling. I think the greyness of the road in my head light and the slight uphill incline was boring. My mind struggled to focus and I quickly felt sleepy.
This is where Oren really pulled me through. We tried to keep the conversation going to stay focused. We even resorted to pushing our bikes for short distances to stay awake. After what felt like an eternity, I saw a row of lights slowly catching us from behind. Ok how long can I stay ahead of them. Anything to stave off the numbness I was feeling. Not long I am afraid. The group of NIKA riders flew by us and were soon off into the distance. Seeing their lights disappear into the distance I tried to figure out the trail ahead –it looked like uphill all the way. Head down I soldiered on.
As we got to a right turn, I heard a beep from my Garmin GPS. Battery low – ****. That cannot be. I was using a 10 000mah power bank that had done duty at SaniNonStop and after that 17 hours was still showing ¾ full. Based on that I was only going to charge on the next night. I stopped and checked if the cable had not popped off. No, all good. I changed cables and still no power. Lesson learnt - for a race like Munga get a new power bank for the start and don’t rely on an older one that was faithful till now. Oren to the rescue. He borrowed me his power bank to charge up. I was so stressed that I will lose my ride – you know if it’s not on Strava it did not happen. I had just clocked over 500km and did not want any issues. WP6 came eventually. Pampoenspoort. It was around 01:00 and I was sleepy. I plugged in my light battery and power bank to charge. I decided to sleep for one hour. Oren set his alarm and I tried to get some sleep. For those that have not done Munga this is what the typical water point sleep set up is like – usually a section under roof is set aside with mattresses and blankets to use. You arrive – find an empty mattress – sleep for a bit and then head off. Like a hot bed set up in a sweat shop. If you are a light sleeper, like me, you don’t really get sleep as there is a constant movement of people arriving and leaving, alarms going off etc.
In what felt like a blink of an eye Oren was waking me up. Time to head out. I grabbed my light battery, power bank and packed my bike. Grabbed some bits to eat and we headed out. Next stop would be Loxton, RV3. But an uphill battle lay ahead. When you crest a hill – instead of a downhill you see another crest up ahead (this would become the norm over the coming days. All uphill). The road seemed to go on and on forever and soon the first rays of dawn was teasing the horizon. My second sunrise on the Munga was again an experience to see. How many more would I see crossed my mind. It was too early to tell. I was hoping for 4 in total but did not want to jinx myself.
As I reached the turn onto the tar road into Loxton I had to focus. There was a detour coming up and I could not miss that. It’s a 6 hour penalty if you do. Oren and I had ridden well till then. Once off the tar the trail was literally a sheep track between some really small and scratchy bushes. Thick sand in patches also made the going hard and eventually we made it to the tar road to just be put back through another farm. Alex Harris really knows how to keep us on our toes. Riding through this sheep farm I saw the carcass of a lamb lying next to the side of the road. Freshly killed and its internal organs removed by some hungry jackal during the night no doubt. Again, onto the tar road and after a short climb I started my descent into Loxton. Through Loxton and onto a very corrugated section of road with some steep inclines. All that was on my mind was to reach RV3 and sleep. Over the last few kms I thought back as to why I struggled the night before. I came to the conclusion that at RV2 I ate first, then had a massage and sleep and then headed out without really eating anything substantial before heading out. So RV 3 will be different – get a bed, shower, sleep for 2 hours, kit up, have a huge meal and then set off.
Km ridden: 615
Time: 43:18