Sabie Shenanignas

When i was a kid, i had a storybook about a boy with a huge red suitcase that he lugged with him everywhere he went. The story starts where someone asked him if he really needs everything in the suitcase. He then unpacks every item, remembering where & when he used it, and decides that it is a useful item to carry along. The book ends with the final item that he never used, but just as he wants to chuck it out, something happens and he packs that back into his huge red suitcase and carry on with his journey.

Jan Ever-ready FrequentFlyer is almost like that - i remember one cold night after a D&D ride he pulled out a blanket out of his magic hat that he shared with MichH & i (the blanket, not the hat) ... but i digress.

Between Jan & I we had 2 sets of goldlinks, a multitool, 2 handfuls of cableties, a huge roll of plaster, a few spokes & spanner, cable, spare tubes, lube, and some other odds & ends. (ok, ok, i'll admit: "between Jan & I" actually means that Jan had all these tools.)
We thought we were ready for any eventuality - that is, until the bolt holding my saddle to the seatpost, broke off about a kilometer from the top of a monster-climb up to one of Sabie's mountain peaks.

We arrived in Sabie latish the friday night - it was probably already saturday morning, to be more precise. Since
Jacques didn't go along, we had to pitch our own tent. My toes were freezing inside the ice nino down sleeping bag - pack warm bags & clothes for the Induna next weekend!

Registration was at 9 on saturday morning (now why can't all race organisers have such civilised starting times?). We crawled out of the tents at about quarter to nine, brewed some coffee, and received our starting times. The novice teams would start at 11, with the more experienced teams starting later.

Plenty of time to get the bikes ready and brew some more coffee. Half an hour before our start time we collected the race instructions. The glowworms (undercover in black & gray) were ready for the adventure. We started almost right in front and were leading the race for a few moments ... that's until we took a wrong turn, and Daleen's team (the WYSIWYGs) passed us.

The race format is brilliant. You never have to digest "54 km to go". The distance (and fortunately the hills too) are broken up into doable chunks: climb for 420 metres, pass over the crossing, continue up for 1.4 kays, turn left, continue up the hill for 760 metres, then turn right and cycle up the track. continue for 130 metres, turn left up the hill.

(Notice the repetitive use of the word "up".)

the day-stage was about 55 kays (without scenic detours) and there was a cut-off at 5 o'clock that evening, if you
wanted to continue with the night-stage of 45 kays back from mac-mac to sabie.

We caught up with Daleen & Pieter on a long steep hill on the way to the top of the mountain. we cycled with them for a while - not much chatting going on, though, because you need breath for that, and there wasn't much spare oxygen on that mountain that day!

about a kay from the top, i heard "clonk" - a seatless bicycle doesn't make for a very comfy ride :(
Jan fixed the saddle with cableties while the stronger teams (who started way after us) passed us - what a pleasure to see them power up that hill! About half an hour later my saddle was ready, and we were on our way again. But, as I discovered on saturday, a saddle takes a little abuse on a hill, and it wasn't long before I broke some of the cable-ties, then some more, and we had to stop again. Jan made another plan, this time involving lots more cable-ties, a whole roll of plaster, and another half an hour. Just after we reached the top of the climb, the saddle was wobbly and unreliable again. We had 20-something kays to go, but we realised that we were in real danger to miss the 5 o'clock cutt-off. Jan's seatpost was too thick for my frame, so we had to continue.

An hour (and some more minor climbs) later I realised that I won't have the energy to finish this race without a saddle, even though Jan pushed me up most hills, and waited patiently for me when i couldn't go further. We stopped again to re-think my saddle-less situation. A few minutes later another team came past us, and (like tobias from my childhood-storybook) had an extra seat-bolt in his bag ... we fixed the saddle, but by then we had about 17 kays to go, with just under an hour to cover that distance ... we knew we were out of the race, but chased time anyway ... what a pleasure to ride with a stable saddle!

There was an AWESOME downhill of 6 kays, it just went down and down and down - faster and faster and faster and slightly out of control - i'm still walking around with a grin on my face!

We arrived at dusk (and 40 minutes after the cut-off) in Macmac with mixed feelings - disappointed about not being able to continue, but grinning from ear to ear about the stunning cycling experience that day. The total ascent for the daystage was a cool round 1800 metres...with a matching 1500 metres of descent. The extra 300 metres of altitude would be for the nightstage.

With about an hour and a half to go until the night stage would start, we tried to convince one of the organisers to
allow us to continue - in the mean time we had to get the bikes ready for the nightstage, find warm clothes and
nightgear for ourselves, boiling water for hot chocolate, and restock on water, junglebars and snacks. We soon realised that the darksone wasn't going to happen for us. So i didn't get to test my new toecaps that was suppose to keep my toes from freezing. (will have to do that on thursday, then)
We did see 2 specialised bikes with lights that looked like they would light up Loftus, though. Would love to see them on a D&D ride once :)
and we did get to cheer Daleen & Pieter on their way out when they started the nightstage. We missed them at the finish though, mainly because we were trying out the local beer in a local pub ... sorry D1 :( !

As consolation for the missed nightride, Jan showed me some of Sabie's singletracks & downhills the sunday morning after the prize-giving-breakfast.

wow what a place!! wow what a ride, what a weekend! And we'll just have to go back next year to do the nightstage too ...

And we'll take a spare seat-bolt with.


***

the only question that remains is:
if (hypothetically speaking, of course) i am contemplating a dual suspension for some of the singletrack that i saw this weekend (and particularly on sunday morning), what should i look at / spend / buy?

only out of theoretical interest, of course :)

xtreme ironing - gatberg

Life is all about the little luxuries in life: hiking between towering peaks of the Drakensberg, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning, pancake with lots of cinnamon and sugar (no lemon!) in rainy weather, make-up in the morning, a facial scrub before you go to bed, lycra by day and down by night, a proper supper with lots of fresh veggies, neatly pressed clothes.

*

A girl must know how to organise. Especially if you love life's little luxuries.

Organising a hike in the Drakensberg is easy enough. If you happen to like pancake for breakfast, then you take someone with who knows how to bake them. If you like veggies, then you carry them up the mountain & insist that you get the first cooking-turn (to contain the weight in your backpack.) If you want to make-up & scrub in a mountain, then you keep an eye open for miniature lipsticks, creams, lotions & potions to keep the weight of your backpack within manageable proportions. If you like good coffee, then you invest in a gadget that can brew fresh Mocha Java on the top of the Drakensberg Escarpment (and carry condensed milk to drink it with, of course). If you like lycra & down, you can bend your MasterCard to your heart's content (or merely until it's maxed out) at the Capestorm-shop in Bryanston.

The neatly pressed clothes, however, proved a bigger challenge. Clothes out of a backpack just never look tidy, no matter how carefully you packed it. It seemed that there were some things, after all, that your MasterCard couldn't buy.

That was about to change, though, with the discovery of the D&D crowd, a slightly crazy writer's club constantly in search of (usually nocturnal) adventures so that they have something to write about. After some careful research, it seemed that there were people willing to carry the ironing board & iron up the mountain for you. The extreme ironing-challenge was on, and Gatberg was the ideal spot.

The Extreme Iron-team couldn't stand the idea of other people having fun & them not being part of it, so the adventure had to start with the Easter weekend's Thursday-night-ride - a 45-kay Dark & Dirty. After the ride, some of the extreme ironists showered while the rest of the team packed Weazul's car - the only car in the team that would (almost) fit four people, four backpacks and a tent. They were on their way.

Somewhere before Harrismith the SleepMonster attacked the team members, so we stopped for two hours at a Wimpy while Weazul & Daemon entertained us with stories of funnily-rigged abseils & strange rock-climbing-techniques. Great for boosting your confidence in the team's abilities.

Arrived at Monk's Cowl early on Friday morning, signed the mountain rescue register, and sat down for a long breakfast: espresso, cappuccino, bacon, eggs, scones & cream. Just before lunch we ran out of excuses, so we had to start the hike up to the contour path.

Lots of excitement & attention from fellow-hikers – what on earth were we planning to do with the ironing board in the mountain? One grumpy old girl with wrinkled clothes complaining about mountain ethics. (What? Who wants to look Dark Wrinkled & Dirty like her, if you can look Neat & Tidy like us?)

Before long we found the first ironing spot. Extreme Ironman Jacques scaled the boulder & we waited for innocent hikers & passers-by to witness the spectacle. The disbelief and surprise on their faces –something your MasterCard can't buy! The girl, not noticing your backpacks with the ironing board at the waterfall, asking Weazul if he saw the people with the ironing board, speculating what they are up to – something else your MasterCard can't buy.

The previous night's lack of sleep caught up with us, & we stopped at the first possible camping spot. Some of the team members caught a bath in the mountain stream, but most of the team members just sat around. Jacques pitched the tent. Jacques pitched the ironing board & plugged the iron into a tree. Jacques fetched water. Jacques ironed. Jacques did pretty much everything to do in and around a camp. A very handy camping tool indeed!

More innocent passers-by speculated about our intentions with the ironing board.

Saturday morning broke rainy and wet, but we were oblivious – slept until about 11 or something. Daemon complained about sleeping next to Weazul, everyone complained about sleeping in the same tent than Daemon, Weazul baked some pancakes for a late breakfast, and Jacques broke up the camp, fetched water, washed dishes, and did about everything there is to do around a camp in the morning. Then we hiked into the rain.

By the time we arrived at the campsite below Gatberg, we were soaking wet. It would be impossible to take the Gatberg ironing-pictures in that weather, so we called it a day. Some of the team members caught a bath in the mountain stream. Most of the team members just sat around. Jacques pitched the tent in the rain. Jacques pitched the ironing board & plugged the iron into a tree in the rain. Jacques fetched water in the rain. Jacques ironed in the rain. Jacques did pretty much everything to do in and around a camp in the rain.

Weazul had some mountain-mix with tadpoles for lunch.

The girl in the team had to go fetch the water needed for the evening meal & coffee because Daemon was too scared of the Drakensberg-cats that was about to attack him. He redeemed himself, though, with a scrumptious pasta-supper – the man can cook!

The man can cook, but he SO cannot make morning-coffee! By the time he found the pot, figured out how to operate the stove, found the coffee, measured the coffee, got water out of a bladder into the pot, found a spoon, found the condensed milk, and figured out how the coffee-gadget worked, everyone was wide awake – he'll just have to keep practising morning-coffee until he gets it right.

It was still raining. We climbed Gatberg sans the ironing board – extreme ironing in that weather would not be possible – and would indeed be dangerous. Visibility was so restricted that we accidentally found ourselves on TOP of Gatberg's gat, instead of INSIDE it. Thank you, Weazul, for giving me a hand when I felt slightly insecure and unstable on those loose rocks :)

On our way back to the camp, a few hikers were coming down into the campsite from the other side – their body-language showed their surprise when they saw the ironing board neatly pitched next to the tent – more stuff your MasterCard can't buy.

By the time we arrived back at the campsite, Daemon was in the mood for some serious adventure-race-training, so we decided to break up camp and walk straight out. Jacques washed dishes, made coffee, packed up the wet tent, packed just about everyone's backpacks, and did pretty much everything that needs to be done in and around a camp. Did I mention that we were wet? The gentlemen in the team graciously allowed the girl to bath and put on dry clothes at the first possible waterfall, and then we walked off into the sunset and into the night.

We spent the night in a warm dry place after Weazul baked some more pancakes, & on Monday morning we headed home via the touristy route – doing all the touristy things like shopping in touristy towns & looking at touristy Lesotho-waterscheme-pipes.

A great weekend with great people – thank you guys!

Credits:

- Jacques, the incredible camping tool

- Weazul & Daemon – an entertainment system on legs

- Mich – for lending us your tent; we would've been seriously wet in mine :)

In search of Dirt

The Vitalstatistics:

The date: 20 March 2007

The occasion: a Beeg Nite Out

The distance: 79.9 kays

Time out there: 6 hours 18 minutes

The actual riding time: 4 hours 30 minutes

The average: 17.8 km/h

The altitude gain: 680 metres

The Cast:

16 nightriders: Oupa Gert, PowerGirl (with the usual heavy AR backpack), Hardy (with the usual heavy backpack with the baseball bat sticking out to scare any potential attackers), QT, Bennie, Sybrand, Wollies, the Thug, D1, William, Con, Pieter, Ian, JP and Marius. And I

The Scene:

Each D&D outride starts the same: You arrive at the D&D centre; get your bicycle ready, check the lights, greet everyone else (this usually gets noisier the more girls there are on a particular ride), & sometimes chatting to someone who can’t ride that night but arrives in his work attire to wish you well.

Wednesday was a public holiday, offering (some) the rare opportunity to sleep in after the previous night’s ride. So Tuesday simply had to be a beeg nite out.

The riders for the night included the old-timers, the every-timers, the some-timers & even a new face.

You wait for the last cyclists to get their bicycles ready for the night’s adventure, then ride to the garage to meet Hardy & Bennie where they stocked up on jungle bars - and finally the games can begin.

Headlights, Taillights, Helmets, and … Action!

Like all other D&D rides, the ride starts by flying down king-of-the-hill, around the traffic circle & then onto the dirt track. Unlike other dirty nights, this happened in broad daylight ‘cause you (at least tried to) leave a little earlier than usual.

So it was on to the air force base, around the garage-corner, down VO2Max hill into the sunset, over the sewerage-stream, down to the SPCA, & next to the railway lines. Switch off your headlamp, because it only lights up the dust kicked up by the bicycle in front of you. The last thing that looks vaguely familiar is the area around Smuts house – and then – gone. ‘Cause as soon as you get to know the cycling routes, a new fence is erected, a new development is built, or the Hardenburgs think up a new route. Just to keep it interesting – and to keep you coming back for more 

Some shockwaves as you pass under power cables, then through a veld on fire, & on to a sweet track with a squatter camp on one side where Elsie’s wheel decided it’s enough. A quick fix, & you’re on the road again, with excited greetings & shouts from the community members – they probably don’t see 16 cyclists (at night, nogal) riding right past their camp.

Now onto corrugated dirt road with Sybrand telling stories (and asking Bennie & Hans every now and again to confirm it) about QT’s need for speed when they scouted the route a few weeks ago.

After some mad chases up QT’s hill, you reach the first jungle-bar-stop and Hardy tells the legend of the ghost of a girl from a long time ago … with the appropriate light-effects to go with it when you signalled the ghost-girl, nogal.

After the brief spell, you’re on the road again. But Hardy discovers a flat tyre. Pump. Race down the hill. Flat. Stop. Change tubes. Pump. Race to catch up with the others. Flat again.

Starry skies. No wind. No sound, except from the 16 slightly crazy cyclists. No moon – the only light is from 16 bicycles with 15 headlamps & 15 handlebar-lights and the occasional ambulance or rattlecar (from driving on the corrugated roads too often) passing slowly to witness the spectacle. The long yellow grass & dry dust tells you that it is autumn already. There’s a chill in the air that confirms the end of summer.

Hardy pumps. Hans pumps. Hardy pumps. QT watches. QT comments. Bennie comments. Sybrand comments. Finally you’re on the road again.

The pace picks up, & then you get to the end of the corrugated road. Hardy’s magical backpack produces hot coffee for all. There’s talk of easing the pace a little, but that’s promptly forgotten as soon as you hit the road again. You try to keep up with Oupa Gert and the Tug on the dirt next to the tar road, with a few stops to regroup. Then you turn into proper dirt road again.

It’s a perfect windless starry night. No sound, except wheels turning & cyclists chirping & chatting. You want to be no-where else than on your bicycle on that moment on that road. And with these slightly crazy people 

By the time you reach the garage, everything’s closed. So Hans rigs the locked tap, you fill your bladder, you eat your jungle bar, and then you cycle off into the night again.

There are lots of warnings from Hardy (with confirmation from Bennie) about the loose rock on the next downhill, but it’s paved now. You switch off your headlight because it only lights up the dust, and then it’s downhill, regroup, more downhill, regroup. Then a magical rocky uphill single track – most attempted it, some walked it, some almost cycled it all the way to the top – wow, well done! You will have to come back one day & cycle the whole darn thing 

Oupa Gert’s wheel requires a quick pump, & then you speed off into the darkness again.

An uphill. QT picking up the pace again … and picking it up, and picking it up until you’re almost dead at the top of the hill – gee-whiz girl, where do you get all the energy? Bennie fixes your breaks, & then you’re ready again. Some tar, & then off to the right in search of single track once more.

From somewhere you join Atterbury road. You stay on the sweet downhill single track all the way. In the back of your mind there’s something vaguely familiar about where you are – and a gnawing feeling that there’s a mountain between where you are & where your car’s parked. But the current moment is the only one that exists – and oh what fun it is to ride downhill single track in the dark!

Then you hit Hans Strydom. Bennie says goodbye & cycles off home.

There’s something blissful about not knowing where you are – ignorance of the hills to come make them somehow more tolerable. But you know where you are. And there’s no getting away from it: the only way to get back to your car, is over that mini-mountain.

But the current moment is the only one that exists. So you put your head down & conjure up the energy to cycle up the hill. Those traffic lights in the distance, they are at the top. There is no other life; there is only now.

Long live Elsie-with-the-backpack, Queen of Hans Strydom hill! You go, girl!

It’s a downhill cruise to the shopping centre & the cars. Another hill conquered. Another magical night in the dark. Fifteen dirty happy slightly crazy riders, 15 dusty bicycles & 15 huge smiles. What a night!

The Credits

Coffee provided, carried & kept warm by the Hardenburgs.

Scouting of the route done by the Hardenburgs, Sybrand, Bennie, Hans, Oupa Gert.

Sweeping courtesy of Hans

The excellent company en route – provided by all the knightriders – thank you SO much everyone for keeping training fun!!

Special thanx to Clinton & QT for the enthusiasm that keeps the night-rides alive, fun, entertaining, interesting & excellent training.

Red Ants Rumble - Wolkberg

I missed the prologue due to work-commitments & heave friday-afternoon-traffic. It was frustrating being a spectator while other people had fun :-(

The rumble was absolutely beautiful!  It was more like a sightseeing come-see-all-the-stunning-and-exciting-things-in-our-area-show-off than a race ... for us, anyway!

Imagine running through a plantation at 3 on a windless hot summer night.
Or paddling on an enchanted lake (cause of all the glow sticks that seems to not be there) just before daybreak (just ignore the broken rudder here)
Or cycling on single track lined with huge white st Joseph lilies for kilometers.
Or abseiling next to waterfalls, or jumping into mountain pools, or cycling up a hill on your mountain bike on a tar road and passing the roadies on their morning training rides!
Or going for a hike in the Wolkberg, to all the sightseeing-spots that you'd see if you were there for an Easter weekend, including breathtaking waterfalls - plus crawling through the unexpected cave on top of the mountain.
Or searching for a checkpoint inside a magical cave as big as a town hall & lots of stalactites & -mites covered in fluorescent water droplets.
Or being attacked by swarms of bats in a mineshaft!
Or ending the race on a place with a stupid name like hilltop (mountaintop would've been more descriptive)

Imagine doing all of this in ONE fun-filled character-revealing tiring awesome weekend.

A great experience - if you ignore the two really nasty steep never-ending rocky climbs pushing the bicycles - it was like doing Dirtrider's hill 318 times back to back.  :-( 

we finished last official team - again! but this time also the very last team! need to work on that navigation & time spent in transitions - we're far too social!  :-)