Amarider 100 Miler

A couple of weeks ago we did the Amarider 100 Miler. We thought it would be a stroll - 100 milers of flat, wide open roads. No real climbing to speak of. And with our legs still in good shape from the Epic, it was supposed to be a great ride. We had entered a team of 4 - myself, Craig, Etienne (from Team Faffers), and Marius. We were all expecting to have a great ride, until we checked the weather report. It just so happened that the Cape was to get its first cold front of the season, and not just any cold front - a MONSTER. High winds, chilly temperatures and lots of rain.

There had been some calls to cancel the event (there was supposed to be 100 mile road race the following day, but that had been cancelled), but we all know that mountain bikers are a tough, fearless lot (and probably slightly mentally challenged as well), and so the organisers had decided to let the event go ahead.

Waking up at 4 in the morning to the sound of our roof straining against the wind had me wishing they had cancelled the race. By the time we got to the start venue the rain had started, and while my bed would have been a warmer and cosier option, deep down each of us looked forward to the self abuse of a long cold, wet and thoroughly miserable day in the saddle.

Bonte had entered a team as well. Just being brave enough to rock up at the start deserved a medal. Only 200 of the 400 entrants bothered to show up, with only about 90 of those finishing the event.

A little after 7am the race started, in the cold dark pouring rain. It wasn't too bad, once you were wet, which took about 37 seconds. The rain was so hard you could barely see where you were going, and for about 10 minutes I rode behind a guy who I thought was Craig, only to realise that it wasn't, and that the rest of my team was somewhere up ahead. I don't remember too much of the first hour and a half, as it all felt the same - there was only about 5 meters of visibility, and you just followed the rider in front of you. I do remember seeing a boat, and thinking that that was probably the preferred means of transport for the day.

I experienced a lot of firsts on that day - riding upstream against the current of a flooded road, hating tar sections, actively seeking patches of water to clean the drivetrain, sediment build up in my shoe. Probably one of the most trying days I have had on a bike. The weather just didn't let up at all. The rain and cold wasn't nearly as bad as the wind, and for the first 5 hours we rode straight into it. We had to pedal on the downhills just to keep moving. It was unrelenting. And to make matters worse, Marius decided that he wasn't going to wait about as one of our riders went through a bad patch. So much for the team idea.

We eventually finished, 9 hours later (I had initially thought we would do it in around 7 hours), in 4th place in the team category (even though we were effectively a 3 man team!). Definetly tougher than an Epic stage, and most certainly the worst weather conditions I have ever ridden in. Thankfully the race the next day was cancelled - I don't think I could have gotten on a bike the next day. Svalbaard (my bike) also took quite a bit of strain, and is still currently receiving some must needed attention at the LBS.

Will we be back - I think so. It certainly was a great event, and the weather just added to difficulty.

A handful of cold and wet supporters

Gavin

Marius the team player waiting for us at the second water point

The rest of Team Harden Up arriving at the second water point

Time to restock on the snacks

The view we had when it wasn't raining.
Pity you can't see the wind on this photo.

Team Harden Up (minus one) arriving at the halfway mark

Still enjoying it, after 5 hours of ickiness

The worst tar section of the ride - straight into the wind!

Etienne's wife, escaping the cold and wet at a coffee shop in Riebeck West

Yolanda enjoying a cappachino indoors, waiting for us

Deon, Etienne's brother, was asked to take off his muddy shoes

Checkpoint 4

Giving Etienne some time to faff - it was his wedding anniversary today, so I made an exception

Chatting to the race commentator, Francois, while still waiting for Etienne - he had 3 cups of soup, which probably explains why he road the last section so well, and why I faded so badly.

Sally glad to be out the rain and cold.

Bonte, nervous of Yolanda's driving, always wears her helmet. They had to pull out, but still braved 80 kms of hell

20 kms to go, and I was struggling. Should have had more soup!

Conditions at the finish - miserable!

Glad to be done - another tough event over.

As I said - "Tougher than 5 Epics in a row!"

I was frozen onto my bike!

Trying to get warm and dry.

Dry, for the first time in 9 hours.

Ready for bed, another medal for the collection.

Epic 2009 - Stage 4

Date: 25 March 2009
Start/Finish: Greyton
Distance: 114km
Climbing: 2202m
Cut-off time: 17:00

Yet again, we would be going on a big loop, starting and ending in the same place. And unlike the previous days, this route didn't sound particularly exciting. Wide roads and jeep track was about all that we had to look forward to.

Our good effort the previous day had boosted our starting position, and we were now in B. This meant that we should get off to a nice fast start, and be able to ride in a bunch of similar ability. Or so we thought. The mapless motorcyclist of Greyton had other ideas. We were expecting a quick exit of the town, out onto the country roads, and on with the stage. Unfortunately, the lead motorcyclist got completely lost in the 5 streets that make up Greyton, and after heading up and down each one a couple times, he proceeded to lead us into a ditch. Now I am not sure if one of the pro teams (or for that matter a back marker) had paid him off, but in the utter chaos that ensued, the natural order of the race was thrown on its head.

The supporter's accomodation

More white horses - I can't wait to have the hiccoughs

Backmarkers suddenly found themselves mixing it with the pros, as several had climbed over fences, pushed through hedges, hiked through gardens, and suddenly found themselves at the front of the Cape Epic. Craig and I opted for the more gentlemanly approach of waiting our turn, and it was this gentlymanlyness that would ruin the rest of our day.

Hanging on, the faffers behind just behind us

Finally - some uphill

As we emerged from the ditch, we found ourselves surrounded by D and E group riders, and suddenly Craig switched into overdrive mode, and looked to make amends. I had no problem lurking with the back markers, but when your partner puts his head down and dissappears up the road, you have little choice but to suck it up and follow.

Me in my usual position - on the back and gasping!

My only reassurance was that I was not alone - Etienne was doing the same thing to Cillier. As we jumped from bunch to bunch, Craig and Etienne egging each other on, with Cillier and myself gasping for air, desparately trying to hang on for dear life as our legs had yet to get going. In between scoffing down my morning banana, and gulping down a Gu, a very strange thing happened. Cillier and I formed a union - and I don't mean something like a gay marriage. More like a Suffering Epic Partner union. And we did it without saying a word (mostly because we couldn't say a word!). It just took a look, and a nod of understanding - our partners really were hurting us, and we were taking strain. But if we stuck together, they couldn't exactly leave us - could they?

A pleasant surprise was seeing our coach Louise from DaisyWay through the lactic haze, cheering the race on from the side of the road. Under the circumstances, I tried to be friendly, but I don't think I succeeded.

Bonte had the best seat in the house!

Eventually, after what seemed an age of high paced suffering, we turned off the fast, wide gravel road, and onto some slightly uphill jeep track. I don't think it is normal, but I was enjoying the hills far more than the flat stuff, and was far more comfortable keeping up with Craig as soon as the trail went up.

Focussed and determined

The Epic route went straight past the guest house where Yolanda and Bonte had spent the night, and it was a pleasant surprise seeing them on the side of the trail, cheering us on with great enthusiasm. After the morning's hardships it lifted the spirits quite a bit.

With Craig's effort in the first hour, we were back up amongst the rest of the B riders, and slowly my legs were getting into the riding. The route had also gotten quite sandy, and my new found sand riding skills were being put to great use.

Ready to tackle the last 40kms

My list of teams to beat had acquired a new team - and I didn't even put them there. I think it was a Hermanus inspired addition, but the new team to beat was Auric Auto. With our mishaps of the previous couple of days, they had beaten us quite comprehensibly. Yet, there they were, just in front of us. It was around this time that I went from feeling like I was surviving, to feeling good, after about 3 hours of riding. There were some climbs, there were some targets up ahead. I was happy. And I also thought that it was time for a bit of pay back. Craig's turn to hang on. Unfortunately, that only lasted about 20 mins, and then I had to concede defeat again, and return to my spot, on Craig's back wheel.

Thankfully, my legs diud get better, and I was able to do more and more of the work. We eventually caught the Auric Auto team, and while they tried to hook on, we succeeded in riding them off our back wheels. By this time, I really needed the second water point to appear. After flying through a wet mielie field, and then a patch of really wet and smelly cow poo - we both looked and smellt a little worse for wear. And thankfully, just al ittle bit further and the waterpoint appeared. Time to gulp down some cokes, wipe the cow poo from my face, and clean my glasses.

Leaving waterpoint 2

We had a short 40kms ahead of us, but nothing at the epic is ever easy, even if Dr Evil says the following:
‘This is the easiest day except for stage 7. Save something for the end though. It all looks deceptively easy and fairly fl at. So push, but don’t overextend.’

Yet again, Craig and I were going in opposite directions, I was getting stronger, and he was starting to feel the exertions of the morning rush, and our positions changed. I was now on the front, with Craig on my wheel. We were heading back towards Greyton, and the stage was almost over. Or so we thought. With Greyton in view up ahead, and a nice flat fast gravel road leading towards it, we made a sharp right turn towards the mountains, and away from our desired destination. The riding was tough - rutted, steep jeep track with only one line to follow. I rode on up ahead, letting Craig ride his own pace.

We found ourselves riding with Tom Ritchey and his Team Rwanda team mate. On one of the downhills I thought I would show this old ballie how to ride a bike, and snuck into the downhill before him. Next thing I see is this handlebar mustache flying past me, on the bad line, looking far too comfortable and in perfect control. After all, he is one of the fathers of mountain biking! Plenty of years to practice.

After a few more twists and climbs, each one sapping the moral (and legs) more than the previous one, we found ourselves on outskirts of Greyton. We were ahead of Auric Auto, and the faffers, yet we both felt quite knackered. There hadn't been too many things to enjoy about the day's riding, and were both only too glad to cross the finish line in 6 hours and a couple of seconds.

White line fever - just a little too slow for the photographer!

Suffering from brain fail - what was the question again?

Time to eat, relax, get a massage and chill. As a treat to our bikes they too were getting some attention - new cables, and filling up on the slime in the tyres, along with the usual wash and lube. Hopefully the next stage would be more exciting.

Covered in cow poo and mud

Moaning to Louise about the fast start!

Just to keep us on our toes, the organisers had decided to play mind games with us. Usually, the truck that contains the single-source drinking water is in an easy to find location. Not today. They kept moving it around. Just when you though you knew where it was, they would move it, and make you have to hnt for it. Great if you are a 5 year old, but after a hard days riding, hunt-the-water-truck is not a game most cyclists enjoy playing!

Coke or recovery? Two hands, one mouth!

Highlights of the day: Passing Tom Ritchey as he ate an apple.
Lowlights of the day: Fast starts, boring riding, being passed by Tom Ritchey

A hedge jumping, garden wrecking German.

Stage
GC 90 Cat 63 6:00.09,6
Total Time
24:28.39,30

Epic 2009 - Stage 3

Date: 24 March 2009
Start/Finish: Villiersdorp to Greyton
Distance: 73km
Climbing: 1976m
Cut-off time: 15:00

Stage 3 had us leaving the quiet seclusion of Villiersdorp, and heading off the the even quieter and more tranquil town of Greyton, over some particularly steep and nasty mountains that just happened to lie between the two towns.

We had ridden some of this route previously, and we thought we had a good idea of what was in store for us today. A mad uphill start to soften us up and get the heart pumping, followed by a short, sharp descent before the big climb of the day awaited us. We had been hearing all sorts of rumours about this climb, but no one really knew what to expect. Apparently it was completely unridable, and even the pros would be walking. This is what I hate - having an inkling of what lies ahead of me. I prefer to tackle the obstacles as they come, and not have to worry about the pain and suffering that will be dished out later in the day. Craig, on the other hand (Darren), likes to know details like this, as well as distances to water points, climbs and other interesting obstacles along the route.

A good nights sleep, and ready for the stage.

I could do with a few more hours of sleep.

For the first time so far, we had to cram the ever increasing chaos in our tents into the big black bags. The neatly folded and organised contents of my bag was slowly yielding to the chaos. And things were starting to multiply. The space was getting less, and it seemed like I had brought way too much stuff that just wasn't ever going to get used. You would swear this was my first Epic. Clearly I haven't learnt how to effectively pack just the essentials yet...

Team Lefty and Fox were in high spirits this morning after yesterday's victory over us, although Cillier was already starting to take strain. His Achilles heal was not his heal at all, but rather his bum. And it was starting to ache. It is always quite funny to laugh at another's discomfort as long as it doesn't happen to you. We've all had bum sores, so we knew exactly what he was going through, which made it quite funny!

Etienne, preparing for a cold morning ride in the Overberg.

Right from the start we started climbing, and would continue going up for about an hour in the hills above Villiersdorp. Having ridden this section previously, we knew where to push it, and where to catch our breath. The only difference this time around was that there were over a thousand other cyclists competing for the same patch of dirt that we were on. And when one rider gets it wrong and has to dismount, we all have to dismount. And yet there is always one guy who refuses to wait his turn and insists we all get out of his way. Another team onto my list. Craig seemed to cured of whatever had been affecting him on day one and two, and rode like the clappers (when we could ride) up that first hill. The sweat was pouring off me, and I was frantically trying to stay hydrated, and within touch of Craig.

The leaders racing up the hill out of town.

We made the top of that first hill in good time, and had a short sharp descent on some off-cambered jeep track to deal with. In the trial ride I had struggled quite a bit here, and so went ahead of Craig. To my surprise, I made it through without any mishaps, only to hear Craig connecting with mother earth twice. I was quite chuffed that I had ridden a downhill section better than Craig - doesn't happen too often. Luckily, they were gentle crashes and no damage was done.

The faffers shadowing us closely.

Once at the bottom, we raced through the first water point without stopping, although this was going to play on my mind for the rest of the day. Just to make sure I stayed topped up, I ate my banana and had a Gu. We had a fast section ahead of us to the bottom of the big climb of the day, and to our disappointment, the faffers were right behind us. We hadn't been able to loose them at the waterpoint.

Ask any first time rider what they were most worried about for this year's Epic, and they would mention the 3km portage on day 3. Now I have done quite a bit of walking with my bike on my shoulders in previous Epic's that I wasn't too worried about the little walk that lay ahead of us. How hard can it be? As it turns out, I should have been worried - this was the toughest portage I have ever done. To get an idea of how steep it was, when I looked ahead of me at the next rider about 2 meters in front of me, all I saw were his ankles. I heard one rider saying that for ever 25 steps he took, we were climbing 10m. This was the section that Mark Fish had to pull out on, after walking in his socks because of the size of his blisters.

Mark Fish, in his socks.

Every now and then, we would get a break, and be able to ride for a couple of meters before the path turned up again. In places it was so steep that there was no option to push your bike - you had to carry it on your back. Now imagine me, and my amazing upper body trying to get this right. In those 3 kms, I think my arms muscles doubled in size! In addition, I got another compliment from Craig - "Not bad going for someone who doesn't run". He quickly made me pay for that compliment - as soon as we could ride again, he put the hammer down and flew up the remainder of the hill. I had no choice but to hang on for dear life. My calves were paining, my quads were aching, my back was sore, my arms were wobbly - and yet we flew up the rest of that mountain. The payback was some nice fast downhill where we were able to make up some good ground. Just before the next climb, with Craig on the front and me right behind we took a wrong turn and ended up in a dry river bed, with no sign of where to go next. And to top it all off, the guys who had been sucking our wheels have the cheek to moan and complain about us leading them astray.

We had a short climb ahead of us, followed by a long, fast downhill section, back to the valley floor. All the guys we had lead astray were now ahead of us, and holding us (more me) up on the descent. This seemed to be the trend for the rest of the day. Guys climb better than us, and demand we move over for them, but when it comes to the downhills, they don't return the courtesy. We reckoned that they must be roadies, or come from some place that is very flat. Like Holland.

When last did you see a white horse?

Back on the valley floor, on a wide district road I was still suffering from all the hiking, and let Craig do all the work on the front. I don't think I had done an ounce of work all day, other than just trying to keep up. The good news was the faffers were nowhere to be seen, after spending the morning shadowing us, they had finally dropped back.

Craig, making everything is still ok.

Ready to go!

With Greyton around the corner, the Epic route organisers had decided to take us into the hills again, in an effort to make up some distance. We had the treat of riding some really nice uphill single track (and doing a little walking too). I was starting to feel good, but at the same time Craig was fading. I reckon that on the day when we both feel good at the same time we will have an awesome ride.

Our tents, in the "bad" neighbourhood - near the Brazilians.

Home for the next two nights.

The last water point of the stage was with 9kms to go. You just know they have something torturous planned when they do that. In comparison with the mountains we had already been over, the last few kilometers were nothing, but with 2 and a half days of riding in our legs, we felt them. And we suffered. Sometimes it is easier to admit defeat and hop off and push, rather than try to ride, and Craig and I were doing plenty of this. Unfortunately, this meant that the guys who go uphill well were able to pass us, and become obstacles for us on the descents.

That was tough, and dirty!

We finally made it into Greyton, past our waiting supporters, to the finish line in a respectable 4:41. This would give us the whole afternoon to rest, eat and recover, and I certainly needed to recover. My legs were quite knackered from all the walking, and the afternoon massage was one of complete pain. I had knots and aches everywhere, and I think Jayne quite enjoyed working them out. It was reassuring to know that as sore as I was, Cillier was going to be in more pain, and be far more expressive about it.

Our spot along the finishing straight.

Just our luck - I thought we had escaped the noisy Brazilians once we left Villiersdorp, but it soon turned out they had followed us, and once again, were camped out in the row behind us. The only blessing was that they were starting to feel the exertions of the Epic, and so there loudness and chatiness was being affected. I think Brazilians are uncomfortable with silence, and will use any opportunity to fill it, at the top of their voices. Good thing I had ear plugs and a sleeping tablet!

In my compression pants, still aching after the massage

Highlights of the day: An almost top 50 in our category
Lowlights of the day: Mountain goats who can't go downhill fast!

Adrian and his Specialized lackies fixing and cleaning expensive bikes

Stage
GC 83 Cat 56 4:41.10,2
Total Time
18:28.30,24