For years to come, this will be known as the "Bad One", the "Windy One", or the "Worst One". I have lived in the Cape for 15 years, and in Somerset West for about 7 years, and I thought I knew wind. Sunday morning was an education to me.
As it is, I am not a big fan of the Argus, particularly up front in the racing section. Far too much testosterone flying about, and far too many people who should not be riding at this level. Add some gale force wind into the mix, and I was petrified! The last thing I wanted was a crash, and the Epic would be over before we have even started.
Standing in the start chute alone was enough to give me second thoughts - I was being blown off my feet. I should have taken the hint when a porta loo got blown over and then blown through our start chute, spewing blue porta loo juices all over the place. The SubVet bunch parted like the Red Sea as we tried to avoid being taken out by the rampant killer loo, or splashed by the obnoxious smelling deep blue liquid that was freely flowing from it.
When the gun finally went and we were underway, another surprise lurked just up ahead. The wind funneled under the Civic Center, and at a specific point was strong enough to blow you off your bike. From my usual vantage point at the back of the bunch I saw several riders swerving and dismounting. Shaking my head and muttering at their amateurishness, I proceeded until I too was almost blown clean off my bike. This was going to be a long day!!
Thankfully, the hard racing that I was expecting was neutralised by the wind as no one really wanted to set a pace on the front. Same applied for break aways, although several riders tried, I think they quickly realised the error of their ways and retreated to the safety of the peloton.
Edinburgh Drive was a gentle, sedate climb compared to previous years where I am sure I lost a lung or kidney. Down onto the Blue Route, and the bunch was still pretty much together, when we had our first big crash. It was hard to see exactly what happened from way at the back, but the smell of burning brakes and grazed flesh filled the air as we picked our way through the debris and bodies. Always a bit of a dilemma - do you stop to help, or do you hope there are medics nearby and ride for your life to get back into the bunch. I tend to opt for the latter.
The big change for 2009 was the use of Boyes Drive as there are roadworks along Main Road. I've raced a couple times over Boyes Drive, and knew what to expect. However, I hadn't really had that many good experiences going up Boyes Drive - famously getting dropped on the first climb 5kms into the race about 3 or 4 years ago. As we started to climb Boyes Drive, I spotted Morag, Briony and Gareth - now that is true dedication - coming out to support the race in weather like that! After another brief "all fall down" the racing started in earnest, with the front riders sticking us in the gutter. The danger here was getting stuck behind a weaker rider who couldn't close a gap if it formed, but luckily I had good enough legs to ride around any such riders without too many hassles. Tim had given me some advice on what line to follow along Boyes Drive, and it was great advice. After a slightly hair-raising descent into Kalk Bay (and to the spectator who called out my name - thanks, and sorry I didn't wave back, but both my hands were needed to stop me from crashing into the riders around me!) we were back on Main road, screaming off towards FishHoek one long single file line.
After another couple of dead wheels and gaps, Craig and I managed to hop onto the back of the bunch, and it was a good thing that we did - the bunch had split, and we were the last ones in the front bunch. Things slowed down as we went through SimonsTown (a full 30 minutes slower than usual) as everyone started to consider Smitswinkel clmib up ahead. As we started to climb, the wind started to shift, and before long we had a tail wind going up the climb. Everything seemed to be in order at the top, and a long fast gradual descent with the wind behind us awaited. I wasn't expecting any trouble, but a quick glance up ahead showed that the bunch had split, and if we didn't close the gap now, we would miss out. For the first time that day we had to put in a hard effort, but it worked out, and we closed the gap, and suddenly the bunch was down to about 50. Several riders rode back on as we went through Misty Cliffs after a loooong chase, and it was at this time that Craig sat up. He had broken a spoke, and was struggling to keep up. Only afterwards did he realise how badly his back wheel was rubbing - the wheel would barely turn!
Going through SunValley, straight into the wind caused some more havoc with the bunch. Gaps were forming, and once again I was on the wrong side of them. Thankfully, a big strong rider took up the chase and pulled myself and 2 others across the gap. With Chappies looming in the distance, the jostling for position was starting. Not wanting to get caught up in anything, I decided to lurk at the back, and make my move forward as we started climbing. But that was not to be. A rider went down hard on the left, and another rider on the right overreacted, going down as well. The crash effectively blocked the road, and quite a few of us were caught on the wrong side of the crash. I came to a stop on the fallen rider's wheel, and watched with despair as the bunch rode off up Chappies. I tried to get going as quickly as possible, but with no one to help with the workload, closing this gap was going to be tough. All the way up Chappies I was in touching distance of the bunch, passing riders as they dropped off, but was unable to make any progress in closing the gap.
At the top I met up with the Maverick Tandem of Lyle and Malan, and hoped that they might be my ticket onto the back of the bunch. We made good progress, and almost got back on until mother nature intervened and decided to blow a poor unsuspecting rider over the edge of Chapman's Peak. The crash looked spectacular, but I saw him at the end and apart from several scrapes and grazes, he was ok. Any hope of catching the bunch was now gone. To make matters worse, my new tandem buddies were struggling and I found myself all alone, staring up at Suikerbossie. Thankfully there were plenty of targets to aim at going up the last climb of the day, and I made good progress, passing struggling tandems and dropped riders. Going over the top, I could still see the bunch, but all hope of catching them was now gone.
Together with one other rider, we started what is supposed to be the easy part of the Argus - the long descent into Camps Bay. But this year it was different, and probably the most difficult part of the whole race - the wind was howling round the corners, and often we would come to a virtual standstill. Little relief was offered from my buddy, or by the riders we were catching and passing. I came the closest to crashing as we went through Camps Bay - the wind was gusting, and almost blew the two of us into the Atlantic Ocean.
As the finish line approached, we had finally hooked up with another bunch of riders, and while taking a turn on the front, saw Andrew Maclean had joined us - he had ridden away from his group at Smitswinkel and soloed for 55kms. I gave him a nice lead out up to the line.
We were going to do another lap, but there is only so much abuse one can tolerate, and the Dulux tent seemed like a much better option. 10:30 might be a little early for a beer, but after the ordeal we had been through, we thought it would be a well deserved beer.
Bonte played the patient role of chaperone and guide for Yolanda, and given the circumstances (and lack of training on Yolanda's part) they had quite a good ride. Bonte has threatened to retire from extreme cycling, and so I would like to make a request to the weather gods that next year the weather be a little more mild and pleasant.
All photos from the Hub
(except the Action photo one)
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