Ons Gaan Nou Braai

[River Rat]

For those of you who want to know how my Barberton Marathon went here it is, if you couldn’t care less well  frankly my dear I don’t give a damn!

 

I just made it into the start chute thanks to an endless search for a portaloo with toilet paper so I didn’t find time to connect with Eugene and his yellow Kona.  The first couple of kilometers meanders through the CBD of Barberton with locals sleepily cheering us on our way, it wasn’t that early but  this is the slowveld after all. I knew this was going to be a long day for me; over 2000m of ascent over 77km is not an easy ride for my lower back so I settled in at the back of the field. The way some of those around me handled the first bit of slight technical dirt that we found early on told me that I was not the only one facing a challenge. I was thinking to myself this little bit of technical stuff is nothing your challenge starts at 12km. A 14km long continuous climb with a vertical ascent, that’s an average of over 7% gradient I don’t climb well at all but I was determined to climb at least half of it. 

 

Like all MTBikers I don’t really care for district dirt roads but the fact that this climb was mostly on one suited me just fine. I settled into a rhythm that I deemed comfortable and immediately noticed that it was considerably slower than the pace of those around me. Not only was this going to be a long climb but a lonely one too.  On our left was the mountain, my beautiful emerald green  tormentor, a soft white cloud cap ensured that I could thankfully not see the peaks, maybe for the best. We were separated by a  lush valley that appeared to get deeper and less lush with every pedal stroke. Our first task of the day was to get over that mountain, crossing the highest point of the race at 26km and crossing back over it at 62km.   Spike, as the locals refer to the sun was being kept somewhat at bay by the cover of some broken cloud which changed the color of my tormentor into a variety of emerald hues making it all the more appealing.  How can something so mean be that beautiful? 

 

 I continued my lonely traverse trying desperately to occupy my thoughts with anything but the climb. I looked at these ancient rocks that dated back to Achaean times some 3,5 billion years ago and more remarkable that it also contained the earliest evidence of life namely cell sized life forms called Stomatollites. These organisms would multiply at night only to have 99% killed off by the ultra violet rays of the sun during the day. There was no atmosphere and Spike was a lot meaner then, it was also the time of Gondwanaland when Africa, India  and Australia were one land mass. Just as well the tectonic plates ensured that we where now separated from out antipodean cousins by some 9000km of ocean, otherwise we may have had an even longer day ahead of us.

 

My progress was slow but steady and the first bit of company was a chap that obviously knew all about Spike and was wearing a wide brimmed hat under his helmet. I knew him from the Magoebaskloof Marathon where he sprinted up a hill to tell me that I had missed a turn off in the dense mist that made that ride so spectacular. I thanked him once again for rescuing me and asked him where he came from, his answer left me with a silent chuckle, and I kid you not Hoedspruit!  He dropped back to cycle with his brother and my next companion was a dusky lady with a creaky front derailleur which we tried, to no avail to a fix while riding. We agreed that a noisy derailleur was the least of our concerns as evidence of the first water point appeared high above us and you had to crane your neck backwards to see it, it was that steep.

 

The water point was busy as all of us used it as an excuse to rest our weary legs and the consumption of coke was starting to concern the helpers. “We need more coke” shouted one lady. “What about this one? “ said the gent in a grey shirt as he teasingly reaching for a 2 liter coke nestled in its own bucket of ice separated from the others. “ Noooooooo!” shouted the whole contingent of helpers, clearly this was a special coke, reserved for their consumption only.  “Let me guess there is a liter of Klippies in the bakkie?” I asked the grey shirted gent. He nodded with a broad smile and pointed to the Ford Bakkie, clearly there was to be a party as soon as the last rider left. Then it struck me the proverbial 1 liter Brandy, 2 liter Coke and 3 liters of Ford (3,2 to be exact) was still going strong in this neck of the woods.

 

I continued on my journey with a smile, why shouldn’t the helpers have some fun, it’s as much their day as ours. My next companion, who introduced himself later as Wilhelm, was pushing his bike and I noticed that he had a 1 x 11 drive train “How’s the 1 x11 working for you” I asked as I rode next to him travelling only slightly faster than his walking pace. “The gearing is fine but I am just having a crap day”. We continued discussing the merits of his drive train until he felt strong enough to ride and he simply rode away, leaving me in no doubt that he was considerably quicker than today’s performance. Our conversation would continue as his legs tired, forcing him to walk allowing  my tortoise pace to close the gap and would stop when either he or I rode away but we were becoming riding buddies of a sort. On one occasion I was riding ahead and came across two guys walking, one of them clearly in extreme pain with cramp with his mate egging him on. Cramp guy was trying his best, but it looked quite comical as his gait looked like that of a clown walking on stilts with a crappy nappy, he was going nowhere fast. He accepted my offer of a muscle relaxant and even forced a smile at my joke that the first one is free. I wonder if he finished. We still had 4km to go to the summit and it was clear this climb was taking its toll, I was rather surprised that I had not yet been reduced to walking too.  Don’t tempt fate keep going.

 

Wilhelm and I interacted a couple more times with each other but I was on my own when I reached the summit water point. I couldn’t believe it, I did not walk once for 14km and 1000m, this on its own was a major achievement for me. I had huge smile on my face as I set off on the forest road descent, not pushing it but allowing my legs to recover from the climb and before long Wilhelm joined me. The track was becoming a lot more technical and we were treated to a nice steep rocky descent which I attacked with a huge grin, this is what I like, this is why I bought a Stumpjumper, this was my idea of fun. The front shock was working overtime in descend mode and I was determined not to touch my brakes if at all possible and I was reveling in the smooth change of the gripshifts as I kept my momentum on the uphill. I glanced back to see how Wilhelm was doing on his hard tail expecting to see a bit of distance between us, imagine my surprise when I saw him right behind me! At the next downhill section I allowed him to take the lead and admired his ability to keep the bucking hard tail with the rubber side down, at times it seemed that his arse was above his head. This boy can ride! “Wilhelm, I have a new nickname for you, Springbok.”

 

We arrived at the next water point where one of the riders was explaining to his buddies how to treat cramp in the quads by inserting a piece of ice into the leg of his cycling shorts. He demonstrated how, insisting on a long piece of ice which left a rather impressive bulge in his nether regions that he proudly displayed to his mates.”Check this out” he said as he thrust his pelvis forward.  I also noticed that he was quite keen to impress the pretty young blonde girl helping at the water table, who averted her eyes as he displayed his newfound status. I could sense her discomfort and could see her blushes becoming an embarrassment for her. So I said  “Hey Boet, like everything else happening down there it also won’t last very long when things get hot!”  This did not improve her blushes but Blondie burst out laughing which had Icicles mates in stitches. It was time for Springbok and I to take our leave.

 

After couple of really enjoyable single tracks we were subjected to the agony of cut grass track, I switched the fork and shocks to descend mode and immediately felt for Springbok. I also noticed the rider in front of us was also on a hardtail and the bumpy grass was taking its toll. I was about to commiserate with him as I passed when I noticed that it was Eugene! We had only met the week before but we greeted each other like long lost friends. Gone was the Kona 26er Eugene was riding a beautiful black and blue Momsen hardtail 29er. “That Kona would never have made this race” he explained when I enquired. The three of us had now formed a neat little riding pack with Eugene taking the lead on the climbs while Springbok and I mixed it up on the descents.  We were making great progress, motivated by the fact that we were passing a lot of riders some of whom were on the half marathon but many were in our race. I sensed that I was holding Springbok up a little so I told him not to wait and go for it. “Nah, the way I feel I could blow at any moment” he said.

 

I knew from the race profile that there was still one killer climb left and that at 62km it was all over with a downhill run to the finish. Well, to my surprise it only started at 62, Eugene was off like a rabbit, Springbok tried manfully but he was reduced to an early walk,  I was determined to ride as much of it as I could and with Springbok’s cheering ringing in my ears I set off but with a whole lot of doubts clouding my thoughts. Had they changed the course? How long was this climb? Is it really downhill to the finish? Just shut and ride, you haven’t walked any of the climbs if you start now you’ll never forgive yourself ! The gradient and the heat which was now nudging 40c was taking its toll amongst us with most reduced to walking. Don’t stop now, keep going! I was so focused that I did not see Eugene walking but heard his cry of “Go for it”. The last part of the climb had a kicker of note and it was with a sense of extreme relief that I crested the hill and positioned myself in the shade of a Camelthorn tree to wait for my companions. Eugene was over first and I sent him on his way hoping that Springbok and I would catch him on the descent. I waited a few minutes more when I realized that there were a horde of half marathon riders about to crest and having watched some of them earlier, descending was not one of their strengths. I decided to take the gap ahead of them hoping that Springbok would catch us at the waterpoint at the bottom.

 

The descent was quite technical and the sharp switchbacks made it very challenging if attempted at high speed. I caught a rider on a silver giant who was quite irritated with his creaking bottom bracket and we chatted for a while. He offered for me to take the lead which I declined, I was having such a great race and knowing myself I would throw caution to the wind and most likely destroy my race by going too fast for my own good. This chap was more than competent and it seemed like a good idea to just allow someone else to determine the pace and line. We had just passed the sign that said “Beware of Hidden Snakes” when we encountered an ugly switchback that dipped more than a meter and turned 180 degrees. My companion was on the inside line where the dip was more of a drop off and he immediately hit his brakes hard and turned into the mountain to slow himself down missing  bushes by millimeters , he managed to come to a standstill apologizing as he did so. I was not so lucky I braked too late and realized that I had no option but to go wide to avoid a collision I also had no choice but to get off the brakes and try and turn. The outside line was littered with hand grenade size rocks with no discernible berm to assist with the turn and to exacerbate matters the drop off increased my speed considerably. If my heart was not in my mouth it would a have sank, this is how a great race comes to a premature end. The front wheel was starting to slide out pushing me even wider and I realized that I was going to collide with a tree when suddenly the front wheel hit a rock bouncing me upright into the inside line. To an uninformed observer it would look like I just did a very neat but daring overtaking maneuver, I knew it was pure luck.

 

I caught up with Eugene at the waterpoint and was in desperate need of sugar water to calm my nerves, even a coke would do. Alas, they had run out of coke but these guys did not bother to wait for the last rider and had already started the party. They were handing out beers, which were being wolfed down by thirsty riders. I got the impression that these guys had loaded the beers first and the coke and water second, they were a festive bunch. Marathon and half marathon riders alike were being caught up in their frivolity and I could see where this was going. I had good intentions of waiting for Springbok but  I knew that when one of the helpers asked a rider who had just downed a beer in one gulp “Nog eenetjie?” that there was only one more rallying cry needed to finish us off and that was “Ons gaan nou braai!”. I forced myself back on the road half wanting to turn back to the party but equally determined to finish a great ride enjoyed with great people on the track and of course all those helpers that make it happen in many different ways.

 

Thank you all!

[BarHugger]

Again a very entertaining piece of RR literature......thanks for it. The stuff you wrote about is what stories and legends are made of.......how I would love to be able to have a story telling skill like yours, but alas......ek is te donners moeg om al die detail te onthou. But I can remember the oke with the hat from the Magoebaskloof race......he most probably knows something about the sun and is playing it ultra safe.

 

Thanks.....one of these days we will meet each other on the trails.

 

PS:....not a Springbokkie here, more Buffalo with a good dose of religion.

[DIPSLICK]

Rat I think we should have a thread only for all your stories and we will pressure you for a weekly contribution

[River Rat]

Rat I think we should have a thread only for all your stories and we will pressure you for a weekly contribution

Not always that easy to find the time to write, this one I wrote up sitting on the verandah of a bungalow in Lower Sabie camp overlooking the Sabie river on Sunday after the race. Now I have to work for a living!

[DIPSLICK]

Not always that easy to find the time to write, this one I wrote up sitting on the verandah of a bungalow in Lower Sabie camp overlooking the Sabie river on Sunday after the race. Now I have to work for a living!

We will then patiently wait

[SwissVan]

Great story

It makes me sommer Lus to enter next years event

I last did it about 12 or 13 years ago and im sure the hills were steeper and no beers at the WP's

[River Rat]

Great story

It makes me sommer Lus to enter next years event

I last did it about 12 or 13 years ago and im sure the hills were steeper and no beers at the WP's

This is like fishing story the hills get steeper with every telling.

[DJR]

This is like fishing story the hills get steeper with every telling.

You do know that a totally true fishing story is always boring!

[Warthog]

This is like fishing story the hills get steeper with every telling.

 

 

Great story

It makes me sommer Lus to enter next years event

I last did it about 12 or 13 years ago and im sure the hills were steeper and no beers at the WP's

 

Trust me, those hills were a lot steeper than what RR described... a lot!

[SwissVan]

Trust me, those hills were a lot steeper than what RR described... a lot!

 

Time fades the bad memories lol....i think i did it in 2001 and 2002 last

[Adrian Fogg]

Great read whilst sitting in the dark waiting for Eskdom to switch back on the lights.

[paul_ct]

Lekker, lekker, lekker. Thanks for the excellent read!

[River Rat]

Never thought my stories would have any impact on the effects on load shedding!

[Oxter]

Thanx for a Great read RR unfortunately missed it this year, but will be there next year

[HOEKVLAG]

Hi RR

 

I've always enjoyed your stories A LOT, but this one has a personal taste as I Wilhelm is a good friend of mine - I was actually the one that convinced him to do the race. We started off together, but he wasn't feeling well at the start of the climb and he said we should go ahead.

 

Hence forth he WILL be known as Springbok!

 

Thanks for a another great read!

[River Rat]

Hi RR

 

I've always enjoyed your stories A LOT, but this one has a personal taste as I Wilhelm is a good friend of mine - I was actually the one that convinced him to do the race. We started off together, but he wasn't feeling well at the start of the climb and he said we should go ahead.

 

Hence forth he WILL be known as Springbok!

 

Thanks for a another great read!

I got the impression that he was a far better rider than his ride up the hill showed. Then he recovered well for the middle part where he seemed to be riding normally again and I was in my element as it was downhill. That nasty last climb at 62 km was not easy for Springbok and that's where we got separated. But it was quite apparent to me that when he has a bad day and I have good day we were equally matched. I really enjoyed riding with him, please send him my regards!