Autopsy of a bike race - To Hell & (not) Back

[Slowbee]

listen, stop buggering around with other things and get typing .................

[DJR]

No Final:

 

I wanted to say, “soon enough”, but really, it felt like an eternity, we got to the top of Heartbreak Hill, on the summit of the Elands Pass. It felt as if I had arrived at the pearly gates of heaven, not hell. From there it was only three and a half more kilometres of strictly downhill to the finish line in The Hell, where a cold drink, a tent and a mattress were waiting! However, with no front brake, I was more likely to cook my back brake as well and plunge off the side of the mountain to become vulture food. The steepest parts drop at a rate of 25%! Yes, steep enough that falling off the cliff wouldn’t hurt much more than just falling on the road. I’m not exaggerating about the Elands Pass when I say it clings to a sheer cliff face for most of the way down. A few years ago they had to airlift a badly broken rider out of there. The story goes that the medics found a bike with its front wheel neatly parked upright between two rocks on the edge of the road, but no rider in sight, until the peered over the edge and saw him 20 metres down. He survived with just a broken leg. See, miracles do happen, even in Hell!

 

So near, but oh so far! I took some pictures from the top and hoped that the cameras memory card would survive my impending crash and that my children would marvel at the last photograph their daredevil father took! At least it would make for a better story than getting creamed by a taxi!

 

I gladly got on the Trance and I gave it stick!

 

For the first time all day, I was going fast, really fast, fast enough that if there was a ramp, I could have jumped the whole Hell, and landed on the other side. As always in the past, in these mountains, my guardian angels were working hard and the brakes held just fine. The squealing was all from me. I did a couple of very cool back wheel slides round the hairpin bends as well as a few smallish jumps over bumps in the road, the way a fifteen year old me would have done many years ago. Alas, like all things very good, the Elands Pass came to an abrupt end all too soon, and Team Pain or Shine was at the bottom in one piece, OK, 2 pieces, and at the finish in The Hell. I flopped down like a sack of potatoes while Beattbox went to find our baggage and tents. On this ride he did all the shining and I suffered all the pain (well, the bulk of it)!

 

Just for the record, it turned out that we were far from the tail end of this race. The back markers came in well over two and a half hours after us, and I don’t envy them at all, although they looked better than me when crossing the finish line.

 

Later, after a good shower, I curled up in my tent. My heart rate just stayed too high and my lungs were now sore and I coughed like an old forty a day smoker. It was more than clear enough that there was something more serious wrong than just being old, fat, lazy and unfit. I went to see the medics who checked my heart rate (90 beats per minute when resting, it should be safely below 50), blood pressure (slightly high) and hooked me up to an E.C.G. machine. They were impressively equipped and knew their stuff! After eyeballing me some more, the chief medic pronounced me alive, that I was not having a heart attack and, in fact, it seemed as if I have the heart of a bloody elephant.

 

He also confirmed what I was starting to suspect: I was coming down with the flu! The flu from Hell! After a very restless night of tossing, turning and coughing up half an ugly yellowish lung, by the next morning it was clear that the diagnosis was right. And so, as suddenly as riding off a cliff, my Hell & Back came to a very abrupt end.

 

If anyone ever tell you that quitting is easy, punch his front teeth in right there, I’ll extract what is left! That was one of the most difficult decisions I ever had to make, over something that is supposed to just be a sport! You would think it would be easy to bail and arrange a lift back to the start, but no, you feel so depressed, even guilty. Exactly for what, I still haven't figured out! I hated abandoning Beattbox after he stuck with me all through the long dark tunnel of day one. As it turned out, he rode day two quite a bit faster because there was no need to keep dragging a half dead partner behind him.

 

Team Pain or Shine made it To Hell, but only Beattbox made it Back out as well!

 

Until next time!

[DJR]

From the top of Elands Pass looking into The Hell. The little white specks at the bottom is the overnight camp for a couple of hundred people!

[DJR]

View from my near-death bed!

[Pikey]

So you back for the next one ? Coz I am so intrigued that I have to experience your story first hand. Very well written,felt like I was almost on the journey myself.

 

I can't imagine how hard it must have been to not carry on. We cyclists are a bit touched like that

 

Well written enjoyed the read.

[Uni]

Thanks DJR for sharing your adventure. I get to live vicariously through you hardcore adventure types . So what's next?

[deanbean]

I was inspired to enter after reading yr tale, DJR, (cyclists are clearly masochists).

But unfortunately it's the wifes birthday on Sat, and camping in hell is def not her idea of a romantic getaway. So I'll have to put it on the must do list for another year.

[Slowbee]

oh dear - to do this 10 days before the Munga starts ...... will it be to risky ?

[milky4130]

oh dear - to do this 10 days before the Munga starts ...... will it be to risky ?

not all, should be your last long ride though.

[Lurch the stalker]

Thanks DJR for sharing your adventure. I get to live vicariously through you hardcore adventure types . So what's next?

Between reading this, and watching Levison Wood's Walking The Nile and Walking The Himalayas, I am tempted to chuck in the corporate life and just go ride my bike till I die somewhere

[milky4130]

No Final:

 

I wanted to say, “soon enough”, but really, it felt like an eternity, we got to the top of Heartbreak Hill, on the summit of the Elands Pass. It felt as if I had arrived at the pearly gates of heaven, not hell. From there it was only three and a half more kilometres of strictly downhill to the finish line in The Hell, where a cold drink, a tent and a mattress were waiting! However, with no front brake, I was more likely to cook my back brake as well and plunge off the side of the mountain to become vulture food. The steepest parts drop at a rate of 25%! Yes, steep enough that falling off the cliff wouldn’t hurt much more than just falling on the road. I’m not exaggerating about the Elands Pass when I say it clings to a sheer cliff face for most of the way down. A few years ago they had to airlift a badly broken rider out of there. The story goes that the medics found a bike with its front wheel neatly parked upright between two rocks on the edge of the road, but no rider in sight, until the peered over the edge and saw him 20 metres down. He survived with just a broken leg. See, miracles do happen, even in Hell!

 

So near, but oh so far! I took some pictures from the top and hoped that the cameras memory card would survive my impending crash and that my children would marvel at the last photograph their daredevil father took! At least it would make for a better story than getting creamed by a taxi!

 

I gladly got on the Trance and I gave it stick!

 

For the first time all day, I was going fast, really fast, fast enough that if there was a ramp, I could have jumped the whole Hell, and landed on the other side. As always in the past, in these mountains, my guardian angels were working hard and the brakes held just fine. The squealing was all from me. I did a couple of very cool back wheel slides round the hairpin bends as well as a few smallish jumps over bumps in the road, the way a fifteen year old me would have done many years ago. Alas, like all things very good, the Elands Pass came to an abrupt end all too soon, and Team Pain or Shine was at the bottom in one piece, OK, 2 pieces, and at the finish in The Hell. I flopped down like a sack of potatoes while Beattbox went to find our baggage and tents. On this ride he did all the shining and I suffered all the pain (well, the bulk of it)!

 

Just for the record, it turned out that we were far from the tail end of this race. The back markers came in well over two and a half hours after us, and I don’t envy them at all, although they looked better than me when crossing the finish line.

 

Later, after a good shower, I curled up in my tent. My heart rate just stayed too high and my lungs were now sore and I coughed like an old forty a day smoker. It was more than clear enough that there was something more serious wrong than just being old, fat, lazy and unfit. I went to see the medics who checked my heart rate (90 beats per minute when resting, it should be safely below 50), blood pressure (slightly high) and hooked me up to an E.C.G. machine. They were impressively equipped and knew their stuff! After eyeballing me some more, the chief medic pronounced me alive, that I was not having a heart attack and, in fact, it seemed as if I have the heart of a bloody elephant.

 

He also confirmed what I was starting to suspect: I was coming down with the flu! The flu from Hell! After a very restless night of tossing, turning and coughing up half an ugly yellowish lung, by the next morning it was clear that the diagnosis was right. And so, as suddenly as riding off a cliff, my Hell & Back came to a very abrupt end.

 

If anyone ever tell you that quitting is easy, punch his front teeth in right there, I’ll extract what is left! That was one of the most difficult decisions I ever had to make, over something that is supposed to just be a sport! You would think it would be easy to bail and arrange a lift back to the start, but no, you feel so depressed, even guilty. Exactly for what, I still haven't figured out! I hated abandoning Beattbox after he stuck with me all through the long dark tunnel of day one. As it turned out, he rode day two quite a bit faster because there was no need to keep dragging a half dead partner behind him.

 

Team Pain or Shine made it To Hell, but only Beattbox made it Back out as well!

 

Until next time!

what an anti-climax, I was psyching myself for the next 2 weeks for Day 2's reports, just kidding. Once again Well done!!! You live to tell the tale is all that counts now & not the quitting bit #kudos !!!

[DJR]

The race t-shirt I didn't quite earn, but sure as all Hell, deserve!

[DJR]

Thanks DJR for sharing your adventure. I get to live vicariously through you hardcore adventure types . So what's next?

I'm going up there again over Easter.........

[Uni]

Between reading this, and watching Levison Wood's Walking The Nile and Walking The Himalayas, I am tempted to chuck in the corporate life and just go ride my bike till I die somewhere

You and me and everyone else tired of being the hamster.

I would like to be able to enjoy my log cabin in the woods without a Zimmer Frame.

[milky4130]

On that note who has stayed at the "2nd camp spot" before?

[Lurch the stalker]

You and me and everyone else tired of being the hamster.

I would like to be able to enjoy my log cabin in the woods without a Zimmer Frame.

This is the reason why I only ever say, "Morning" and not, "Good Morning" - if it was a good morning I would be on a yacht in St. Tropez

(Ok, that isn't mine, but I still like it)