Cape Epic - Stage 5

We were halfway, and the atmosphere in tent town reflected that last night. Even though we still had some frightfully tough stages ahead of us, we had made it this far, and it was all downhill for here. Figuratively speaking. Dr Evil had other plans.


Our supporters stayed in style

Today we faced the challenge of 146km, with 1819m of climbing, from Swellendam to Bredasdorp. We would also get to ride through De Hoop Nature Reserve, and get our first sighting of the sea since leaving Knysna.



We had given up looking at the route profile, but the plan for the day was to ride according to how we felt. This is the longest stage in Cape Epic history - so everyone was a little nervous. Just how tough was it going to be?


Last minute bike check


Where is my shirt?

The race started in the main road of Swellendam, and we were still lurking down in D. Mountain bike chaos ensued shortly after the start, and the very limited bunch riding skills of many mountain bikers were put to the test, with a couple of casualties within sight of the start. Today was going to be a long day, and there was no way we wanted a handicap so early on, so Craig and I just relaxed, dropped back, and shook our heads at the carnage up ahead.


All smiles before the start

Before long we left the tar and and began a two hour journey over the rolling hills of the farmlands outside Swellendam, to water point one. I wasn't having a good time. I am not sure if it was the fast start, or the efforts from previous days, or the crash, but I just could not get into a rhythm. Perhaps what I was worried about was that I was due a bad day sooner or later. I just hoped it wasn't today. I later said to Craig that if someone had offered to take my bike there and then, I would have quit. But thankfully it was nothing more that a couple cups of Coke, a Gu and toilet stop couldn't fix. We were a little disappointed not to see our supporters at the water point again, but there were enough other people cheering for us to make up for it.


Proof that our supporters were at the water point, but just a little late to see us

We finally entered the nature reserve, and got to say goodbye to the rolling hills that were messing with my mind. We had a good pace going, Craig was on the front towing me along, and for the second day in a row we were passing people. And the first time this Epic, I had to walk up a hill, while Craig rode.


True dedication

We had been promised sandy, rocky roads with plenty of thorns in the nature reserve, but up until now, I had found the going quite easy. Just when I thought it had all been a tactic to scare us, we turned off the main road, and the sandy, rocky trail lay before us. I like to think I am quite a good rider of soft sand, but 20kms of soft sand is enough wear anybody down. Although the thought of quiting didn't enter my mind again, I was more than relieved to turn onto some tar, and be welcomed by the second water point. By now we were a stone's throw from the sea - and it was rather inviting. We gulped down some coke, got the bikes lubed - this was becoming a highlight of the day, had a banana or two, and we were on our way.


Russell's road bike looking dirtier than our bikes

We made good progress on the tar, and had settled into a nice pace when we turned off the tar and onto some gravel. Thoughts of sand ran through our minds, but we needn't have worried. The only thing that was bugging me were the dense reeds on the side of the trail that were hitting against my wounds. I could hear Craig chuckling behind me as I tried to take evasive action.

We got to see some of the local wildlife - some rather interested baboons, and some totally oblivious Blesbok. The foreigners must be loving this.


Spectators doing what specatators do - waiting...

Back on the tar we faced a rather steep climb, and I was extremely relieved that I was able to climb it without having too many hassles. Perhaps I was just taking longer and longer to warm up. The upside of this nasty little climb was the fantastic bit of technical jeep track that would take us back down to the valley floor. We flew down there, only to be slightly impeded by Nolan Hofman who was still coming to grips with this mountain bike thing.



All smiles today

If I am to be remembered for one thing in cycling, I want it to be the following tale:

Once through the valley, we turned onto a long, straight, slightly uphill dirt road, with a gusting wind coming slightly off the front to the left. I took up my spot on the front, some other lone rider behind me, and Craig at the back, all echeloned to the right looking for any slipstream there might be. We could see a group of about 6 riders up ahead, way way up ahead, but it didn't really look like we could catch them. Riding at a good tempo, we made good progress, and before long got to the water point. As we arrived, the group ahead of us were leaving, and we could see that it contained two riders we knew from Hermanus and Somerset West. When they saw us they immediately left the water point without saying hello and disappeared. I gulped down some coke for the belly, and we were off. The single rider had decided to go it alone, and now was lurking halfway between us and the group ahead. Slowly, over about 10 minutes, we first caught the single rider, and then the bunch, and we getting ready to settle down in the bunch when the games began. No one wanted to work on the front in case everyone else got a free ride so the pace was dropping. Craig and I had a chat, and we reckoned we could get away from this group with some very devious road tactics. We swung over to the right of the road, me on the front, with just enough room to the edge for Craig to get in my slipstream and no one else. I then slightly increased the pace, and we proceeded to ride away from them. After about 5 minutes we had about 100m on them, and that was all we needed as we caught and passed more riders ahead of us. I have never guttered anybody before, and it felt especially good to do it in a mountain bike race.


Now it is time to relax (and bask in some glory)


Me and my collection of dirt for the day

Before the Epic, I had never been to Bredasdorp before, so I had no idea how much further we had to go, but my white line fever was kicking in, and I wanted to get to the finish as quickly as possible. Thankfully Theunis was following our progress on SportsTrack and was able to tell the wives that they had to get to the finish as we were about 5km out of town. I don't think anybody expected us to bounce back as suddenly, and as impressively as we did that day. I would never have said I was riding with the same partner, who, two days ago, was a walking (bike pushing) zombie. We had gone from finishing 303rd, to finishing 64th!


Another finish line crossed


Amanda and Sarah in good spirits after a long day

As a reward for our good ride, the wives had bought us a roast chicken to share, although Craig thought he ate a whole chicken on his own. As usual, we were pampered and fussed over, and Russell whispered sweet nothings into the ears of our bikes - telling them to keep up the good work and praising them for 3 days of no mechanical issues.


Some running repairs to get to the finish


They start them young in Breadasdorp




Analysing the day's events

We were treated with a fantastic thunderstorm that evening - lightning all over the sky, and just enough rain to settle the dust and cool the air. The next stage was to Hermanus - Craig was going home, and we wanted to have a good ride for all the fans.

STG 5 48. Cat, 64. GC

Cape Epic - Stage 4

After another good night's sleep (I can't say the same for Craig as he wondered around looking for his tent until all hours of the night) we awoke to a quiet, still morning. The howling wind from yesterday was gone, and so were some of the memories of yesterday's 'epic' stage.

My wife had diligently patched up all my wounds, treated my blisters, and had even washed my helmet. True love. I was all ready to go.


Oozing wounds



Today we had 121kms and 2620m of climbing to look forward to on our way to Swellendam. By now I wasn't even looking at the profile of each day's stage, and wasn't really concerned with how long it was either. I would keep pedaling until either I couldn't pedal anymore, or we crossed the finish line - whichever came first. Secretly I hoped it was the finish line for both Craig and I.


Some wives made their husbands carry their own bags - shocking!

Craig was looking much better. By much better I mean he no longer resembled a walking zombi with skeleton-like features. He was even smiling. We had gone from "I am never doing the Epic again" to "I will let you know after the Epic" which I took to be a positive sign.


A bit of a smile

Once again we agreed to take it easy at the start, and just see what happens. We were now well entrenched in D, and so it was virtually impossible to have a fast start. After a short stretch on tar, we turned off onto the dirt and started slowly climbing out of Riversdale. An immediately noticeable difference was that we were not being passed on the uphills like yesterday. In fact, we were slowly riding past riders.


Looks way better than a tent!

Bonte had given me explicit instructions today to make sure that Craig drank his juice. He had to get through a bottle an hour, and so today my official role was naggy housewife - every ten minutes for 6 hours I had to ask/tell Craig to drink. I was worried not because Craig would dehydrate, but rather of the pain Bonte would inflict on him if he didn't drink. How would we finish the Epic then?




The first 2 hours passed by rather uneventfully, except for a rather serious crash that we saw the result of, until my stomach started acting up. I had had one spoonful of a rather dodgy and bubbly stewed fruit yogurt for breakfast, and now I think it was now starting to bubble in my belly. I found a burp every 10 seconds or so to be quite relieving, and so for the next hour or so I was not a very nice person to ride next to. Several cups of coke and a bunch of grapes (which took me about10 minutes to eat as I don't like grape pips) settled my stomach enough to at least do away with the need to burp.




Some encouragement along the way
We had been promised a South Easter today, and that would have made today's ride quite pleasant as the wind would have been from behind for most of the stage. But it failed to materialise. Instead we got hot, dry conditions and the parts through the fynbos felt completely airless.


Just one of the climbs that lay in wait for us

We were still passing people on both the uphills and the downhills and were making good progress towards the last waterpoint of the day at Suurbrak. We approached Suurbrak on the tar, and once again I was in my element. I went to the front, caught a couple of riders who tucked in, and proceeded to hunt down a bunch in the distance. One of the riders I was towing along came along side with a big smile on his face - we were flying along at 50km/h - possibly the fastest he had ever been on a bike.


50km/h!!!

At Suurbrak, Craig got rid of his Camelbak, and had one bottle to ride to the finish with. Unfortunately we had no idea how far the finish was from that watrepoint, or what the route was like. We couldn't be that far from Swellendam? We made good progress out of Suurbrak, with Craig climbing quite well. As is customary in the Epic, there is no such thing as an easy finish, and just when we thought we were going to be heading towards the finish, we went in the opposite direction into the forested hills above Swellendam. By now, the temperature had climbed to the upper 30's, and Craig and his one bottle of water were taking strain. We were faced with a series of short steep hills that really killed the legs. Even I was suffering, and had to be rather nasty and turn down a request from Craig for a pull up a hill.

A couple more torturous uphills awaited us, and I me lost my sense of humour with some spectators who told us we were "nearly at the top", only to be faced with several more short climbs. When a farmer told us were were on the last climb of the day I asked him if he was lying to us. Turns out farmers don't lie, and we had a nice downhill into town, and across the finish line.


Halfway - four down, four to go.


Epic partners


The roadie and his recovery drink

The rest of the day was spent doing the usual post race stuff, and we found a nice spot in the shade to laze about in. Before long, our spot had been converted into a field hospital with Yolanda dressing wounds (mine) and attending to saddle sores (strangers). She quickly got a bit of a reputation and very soon had several strange men showing her parts of their bums that I prefer not to think about. But she was in her element. It is amazing how people are prepared to sacrifice dignity for comfort.


The nurse having a great time


And another bum

After a good dinner we headed off to bed, where I got to hear about Johan and his partner's tales of day 4. Johan and partner were our tent neighbours that night, and insisted on having a conversation at full volume with from their separate tents. Not even my earplugs could drown them out. But eventually the sleeping tablet kicked in, and I nodded off to sleep.


Post stage relaxation of a different sort


STG 4 94. Cat, 128. GC

Cape Epic - Stage 3

After a reasonably good night's sleep, we awoke to the challenge of Stage 3 - 133km from Calitzdorp to Riversdale, with 2340 meters of climbing.



The route profile didn't look as bad as the previous day's efforts, but this was by no means an easy stage. We had decided that it was no good trying to race anymore - we were too far down on classification, and Craig was in need of a day with as little suffering as possible. Today was our recovery day. We were going to take it easy, and ride very conservatively, and hopefully recover from the excesses of the first two days.


Did someone say 'dancing girls'?

By now we were seeded in D, and the front of the race was getting further and further away from us. It is a little hard to accept that people that we usually beat without too much effort were miles ahead of us, and still looking strong.


Tent town at Calitzdorp Spa

We had 15km of relatively flat riding before the first climb of the day - the Rooiberg Pass. We stayed with our start bunch and got a nice tempo going. As the road started going up, we started going backwards. The effort of the previous two days had cost Craig, and he was suffering. It took us over an hour to climb Rooiberg Pass, and we must have been passed by half the field. The upside was that I got to have a good look at the surrounding scenery, chat to the passing riders, and generally have a rather relaxing climb. I don't think Craig saw the scenery or did much chatting, and the climb certainly wasn't relaxing for him.


While the men were out riding, the ladies enjoyed the area's hospitality.

The one area that we were still good at was going downhill, and we were able to make up a lot of places going down the back of Rooiberg Pass. If only there was more downhill. Before we knew it, we were at the bottom, and 60km of rolling hills awaited us. We rode some, walked others, knocking them off one at a time. Craig set the pace today, and I tried to ride behind him where possible. We were in no rush - this was going to be the day that was going to save our Epic.


Some famous roadie

On a stretch of downhill, with my mind wondering all over the place, I let my front wheel drift about 15cm off the line into a loose rocky section, and before I could do anything, was lying on the ground with my bike on top of me. A quick check to see that nothing was broken (both me and the bike) and I was up and on my way again. The guy behind me was quite concerned, and when I asked him how spectacular the crash was, he gave me 12 out of 10. As the adrenalin wore off, I started to feel the aches and pains of the crash. I had bashed my knee, and grazed my hip and elbow, and bruised my shoulder. In a way, the pain felt good, and served as a motivator to get to the end.



After a long, boring, slightly uphill dirt road into a head wind, we reached the 3rd water point of the day. The wives had been waiting for us here, and were sick to death from worry when we finally did arrive. We took a longish stop while we stocked up on juice and fruit before we set off to conquer the final 30kms of the stage.


A long long wait in the hot sun


Arriving at the watering point

The remainder of the day was all on tar, but we had to get over the Garcias Pass and deal with a strong headwind before we could call it a day.

The tar briefly revived Craig, and we initially made good progress. By now we were being passed by several teams that I knew, and my competitive spirit was being awakened. I was quite impressed that I had been able to keep it under control for so long. I went to the front, and let Craig tuck in behind me, as we set a steady pace up the climb. Where the road steepened a bit, I got Craig to hang on to my Camelbak as we ground our way up the pass, passing some of the people who passed us earlier.


We love tar!

A fast, sweeping descent awaited us on the other side, and with the help of two Spaniards we flew down the pass at speeds of around 80km/h. As the road flattened out we were hit with a gusting South Wester - which for us was a headwind. With Craig hanging on again, I put my head down and pedaled for the finish line in Riversdale. We caught some groups along the way, and each time ended up riding away from them as the pace was too slow. Also, these groups contained people that would have just loved to finish ahead of me. That was not going to happen!


Riversdale

We crossed the line after 7h15 - a long day for anyone. Craig was still feeling dizzy and nauseous, and was whisked off to the medics by Bonte, in the hope that they could repair him overnight. Today's stage had claimed several riders, one of them being the partner of the guy I rode with last year. It didn't seem to matter how much training you had done - this race could get to anyone.

Yolanda was quite glad to see me - her eyes lit up when she saw my wounds. Finally, she could do something that she enjoyed - clean wounds and apply dressings. So apart from the usual feeding and watering, bottle washing and bed making, she got to pick grit out of wounds, and apply honey soaked dressings. I just think she forgot that I am not an ICU patient - I was conscious and not on morphine - I could feel pain.

Craig received 2 liters of saline from the medics, and the doctor told him was dehydrated, and wasn't drinking enough. When we checked his Camelbak the previous day, he had barely had 5 mouthfuls from it, in 7 hours! From now on he was do finish a bottle an hour, and I was to be Bonte's enforcer. A job that I didn't want to fail at!

Having missed his massage because of his stay in the medical tent, Craig had a late night massage, and afterwards got lost in tent city. He could not find his tent again, and did not have his phone on him. I had gone to bed after dinner, and had my earplugs in and had taken a sleeping tablet. Together with the security guard, Craig spent about an hour trying to find his tent, and eventually had to borrow a phone to call Bonte to get instructions on where his tent was. Afterall, they all do look the same. It was a good thing he had had a nap while he was on the drip.


The riders are in bed, time to open the wine!

The drip seemed to have done some good, as for the first time in a couple of days Craig was looking quite cheerful the next morning. Were we about to turn the corner?

STG 3 194. Cat, 303. GC