Of Rugged Coastlines, Boggy Mountains and Guinness

Ireland is well known for many things, with Guinness probably being pretty high up if not on the top of the list. But as this was not the sole reason for our journey over to the Emerald Isle, proper exploration of this fabulous beverage would have to wait till after our race.

Getting all four team members, our bikes and other gear to Ireland at the same time and in one piece, was a challenge. After a few curved balls in which my negotiation skills were seriously tested regarding our bicycles, and the realization that Jess's paddle wasn't going to make it on the flight unless we paid exorbitant money, we finally boarded the plane.

We peered out through the plane windows upon landing to a grey, wet and cold Dublin.  After two days sightseeing and pre-race prep of buying food,  we headed back to  the airport for our race shuttle to Limerick University. Suddenly the race became very real. The car park was strewn with bicycle boxes, gear bags and racers from all around the globe.

Once at the University it was game on. We essentially had a day to get ourselves sorted. Competency tests done, bike boxes packed, final food shopping done, gear bags packed, race briefing, map marking and route planning.....we eventually fell into bed around midnight. Not ideal when embarking on a 72hr nonstop race where sleep was going to be extremely limited and the gravitational pull on the eyelids tested to the max.

A 2.5hr bus trip took us to our start at Curraghmore House. A spectacular manor house which had us all gaping in awe. The gun went and it was game on. I was very apprehensive about this first leg. The 20km marked trail run was going to hurt. With no navigation to slow the pace....it was going to be a sprint to the river. Not our strong point. But it was only leg one of many.

Arriving at Mount Congreve on the banks of the Suir River, we were greeted by the rather comical sight of what resembled a mud wrestling tournament where boats were compulsory. After sliding down the nettle infested bank, we were treated to a first hand account of the mud wrestling. My happiness to be in the boat rapidly disappeared as we realized the outgoing tide, was turning. It was to be full moon that night, a blue moon at that, which meant a tide at its strongest and with a 6m tidal difference, our fast descent of the Suir River turned into a hard slog. A quick and thoroughly enjoyable orienteering leg around Ireland's oldest city Waterford, saw us climb back into our boats and once again battle the currents of the Suir. Our forward progress was now even further hampered by the a head wind. After a frustrating and time wasting double crossing of the Waterford Harbour whilst dodging massive Container ships we eventually made our way to bad weather takeout B at Dromina Strand. I must just add that our little pocket rocket Jess had an even harder time than the rest of us, battling it out with a heavy flat bladed paddle and a cracked rib.

Warmed up and with tummies full of tea and chicken sandwiches from a local bar, we headed off on the 5km trot to the original kayak take out and first coasteering section at Dunmore East.

With a rogain style race comes many different route options and choices unlike a regular adventure race where you simply travel along t entire course collecting all the checkpoints. In a rogain, you are given a time limit and based on ones speed over the various legs, you either collect or skip checkpoints. Ultimately the team who collects the highest number of points in the time allowed wins.For this reason and also the fact that the second coasteering leg was only a short bike trip after the first, we opted out of the first coasteering so as to make the 2nd before it got too cold and also so as not to have to cycle and then put on wet cold wetsuits. But as with most things, even the best thought plans don't work out. We were told after checking out of the 3rd transition point that the coasteering had been cancelled due to all the teams hitting it in the dark. It was now around 9:30pm and the sun would be dipping over the horizon in about an hour.

Heading out on the bikes, we discovered a few 'travel related issues' had inflicted our bikes. (Bikes are packed and transported in special boxes during the race). Kim's derrailleur was slightly bent and looking dodgey at best and Jess's seat post didn't want to go all the way down. Try as we might, begging, hitting, wriggling, it simply would not drop the last 2cm. It was going to be very uncomfortable ride.

Sometime around 2am the nods started to kick. That feeling of seeing two maps instead of one can be rather disturbing. As navigator I had to concentrate really hard on concentrating. We were joined by an Irish team who had somehow lost their map, andasked if they could ride with us to the next TA, where they would get the next set of maps.We arrived at the Abseil in Kilmacthomas just as the sun was peaking its head out over the horizon. Our descent was to be off an old viaduct, which sadly we never really got to see properly due to lack of light. It did however supply a good laugh. Jess having abseiled from a very young age, didn't waste time in reaching the ground. The young military man in charge of our rope stared in slightly disconcerted awe at the speed with which she descended...asking me in a rather fearful voice....did I actually attach her to the rope?

Around mid morning we got to the start of the first hike a bike section over the 'gap', a saddle which we would traverse between the Comeragh and Monavullagh Mountains was relatively easy to find and the actual trail over the top although steep, was relatively easy going....although some teams took a rather more 'scenic' route (this might be a good time to add that 'shortcuts' through Irish bog are not really something one wants to do....willingly). At one point Kim disappeared up to her armpits in Bog with just her head, arms and bicycle marking her location.  The ride down into the Nier River valley on the other side was both exhilarating and beautiful. 

The bad weather had now set in properly. It was hard to leave the warmth of the transition at Ballymacarby and head out into the cold wind and rain and the Monavullagh Mountains. After looking at the map, we decided to collect the first checkpoint up on Knockavannia mountain, and then make a decision from there, as the next few would would not just be a walk around the hills. It was a little frustrating having to cut out the sections that would really challenge us due to the ever looming race cutoff. If we were late, we'd have hard earned points deducted. Not something we wanted to have happen. Once at the top, we decided to head back and try get some now well earned sleep. We had been going in excess of 30hrs without any sleep.

I don't remember much of the hike down.....as most of it was done in a semi comatose state. I was told by fellow team mate Janine I was 'bug-eyed'. Once in my sleeping bag, I couldn't sleep. The next leg and decisions played on my mind.... It was big bike leg, with another hike a bike and many options.

Bike admin had taken its toll on us so we headed off for the lesser of the evils on the bike and after a lung popping climb up to the lower peaks of the Knockmealdown Mountains, trekked and rode along the East Munster trail to a memorial site below Crohan West peak. We descended in the last of the daylight and hit the myriad of forest roads at the bottom in the dark. After a slight detour, we were back on the road in the quaint hamlet of Goats Bridge. We arrived in Kilbeheny with eyes propped open with imaginary matchsticks. This time, with now nearly 40hrs of no sleep, I had no problem falling asleep. The wake up alarm after 2hrs came way too soon. A feed and a study of the map saw us heading off with renewed energy. A short bike ride took us to the base of the Galtymore Mountains. It was a beautiful day and our spirits were high. They weren't even dampened by our interesting route though thick spruce plantations (think spikey hakea on steroids) culminating with a clamber over a bramble stinging nettle covered wall. From Knockaterriff we headed to Knockeenatoung and finally back to Kilbeheny Village.

Our last bike leg took us through the beautiful valleys between the Galtymore and Ballyhoura Mountains and even though it had once again started to rain, nothing could dampen our excitement at heading out on the famous Ballyhoura MTB trails. We wasted no time in getting out on the trails. The beautiful winding paths took us through mystical hobbit like forests interspersed with spectacular views of the valley and surrounds. With sunset came new challenges. Suddenly the paced slowed. Riding technical single track with the added challenge of shifting shadows took its toll on our super tired brains, add to that the cold and now heavier rain... We arrived drained at the end. The need to recharge and warm up saw us taking a 30min power nap before heading out on our last leg, a 12km marked trail run to the finish.

I'm not sure if the fact that the last 12km did not require any mental effort in the form of navigation was a good thing, especially for me, as navigator. My brain had decided it's work was over and therefore had no need to stay awake any longer. The fact that I actually needed it to place one foot in front of another seemed of little concern and so it was a rather erratic path I took to the finish with a couple of unplanned visits into the brambles on the verge.

Our arrival at the finish in Kilfinanne around 3am was greeted by a box of cold beers. Thirst overcame sense and after 2 sips we all felt as if we'd had the wonderful Irish brew injected into our brains!

It was a superb race, we laughed for the majority of the race. It was a journey which will not easily be forgotten and I feel privileged to have to been able to share it with my fabulous team mates!

A massive thank you to our various sponsors:

Adventure Inc for our Ice-breaker thermals, buff headgear and Bridgedale socks; and to Squirt for our cycling kit, bike lube, bum lube and bike wash. We could not have done without it!

Single track mind....Great Zuurberg Trek

Stiff Cheek muscles aren't quite what one would expect to have after a 3 day mtb race.....but I guess it's not really surprising considering I had a grin big enough to make even a Cheshirecat proud!  

The Great Zuurberg Trek reminded me why I own and love riding a mountain bike. The magical views, technical singletrack and good solid climbs, had me in heart pumping euphoria, and each day just got better!

Day one kicked off with a last minute partner change. Janine, my intended partner in crime, fell foul to a sudden onslaught of snot siekte and it was clear that riding was not an option. It was heartbreaking to see the disappointment as we had been looking forward to the ride for weeks. Luckily for me, a mutual friend was ready and willing to fill her shoes! It was quite comical, because Traci and I were secretly terrified of each other.......a complete waste of emotions and energy as we made a fabulous partnership! 

The pre-race butterflies were also exacerbated by the fact that I would be riding a new bike for first time! Luckily I had a couple of km's of easy riding to get a feel for the bigger wheels, gears and suspension, but then the honeymoon period was over and the technical single track started.... It was a baptism of fire...with a few heart stopping close your eyes and just wing it moments..but the bigger wheels just rolled over every obstacle and I really started to enjoy myself! The day was rounded off by the beautiful, but 'butt crunching' climb up the Zuurberg Pass.

Day two.....famed as the 'hard day'....I won't lie...it had me a little nervous! We started very conservatively.....rounding up the back of the pack, but steadily started to pass teams once the hurt started. After a short fast down hill section, we were treated to mind blowing views and some seriously awesome trail. Traci had a silly fall around 20km and rode the rest of the day in agony, as her left hand just continued to swell. I just grinned all day. I was in my element. There wasn't a second of the day that I did not enjoy. It was a fabulous mix of flowing jeep track, technical single track and some good old hike a bike just for a change of body position. 

When we finished Traci discovered that she had dislocated her knuckle, and later found out she'd fractured a bone. I'm super proud of her that she rode so well with this for not only the whole of a really bumpy day two, but also an incredibly technical day 3. 

Day 3....the fun day....and fun it was! After a steep rocky little awakener to spread the teams out a bit....the 40km of single track started. My bike and I had now properly bonded. It was awesome. Really technical, with no room for error. The day flew past with laughs, smiles and whoops. The last long climb up the pass finished the day off just nicely.

Traci was a fabulous partner. She was super strong physically and mentally and a good laugh. Thanks! It was a super fun filled three days.

The organizers got every aspect of the race spot on! It was brilliantly organized, the route was more than spectacular, the water points well stocked with delicious nibbles and the Marshall's and volunteers made us feel like rock stars! 

All round, an event I would recommend to anyone with a sense of humour, fun and adventure! 

Thank you to Rob and Louise Hayter for making it possible! I am forever grateful! Also to those who made my new bike happen...you know who you are! THANK YOU! It was amazing! 

I will be counting down the sleeps till Great Zuurberg 2016!

shaken.....frozen but not stirred

So our pocket rocket pilot Jess went Gallavanting in the beautiful surrounds of the Witteberge and this is what she has to say about it!

SAFFY'S NOTORIOUSLY GNARLY NON-STOP WARTRAIL COCKTAIL RECIPE

A classic twist from the original staged, three day event. Think Wartrail (run/bike/paddle)... but on steroids. No dossing. No Comforts. Just non-stop epic-ness! Guaranteed to provide you with tons of "war" stories and blow your dinners guests minds at your next quaint cocktail party.

Prep time:

34hrs 

You will need:

1 x spoon of cement and some Cleanex tissue's

2 x legit seconds (preferably 1 x mum for that extra bit of TLC plus 1 x over eager friend that is oblivious to the giant task ahead)

1 x pair running skoen, bike and boat (don't forget the buoyancy!)

1 x sense of humour (preferably one that never falters)

Method:

Take a stunning, jaw dropping, ma-jess-tic, 60km sky run along the Witteberg mountain range from Lady Grey to Balloch.

Blend up with a gnarly 130km MTB leg.

NOTE: Leg must consist of at least one mother of a hike-a-bike, a sh!t load of uphills and preferably little to no down hills. If you are feeling really brave, add a pinch of some railway track (the extra bumpy, slippery sort) just in case your butt cheeks have not been adequately tenderised in the first 100km prior. For a naughty twist, chuck in some PVC piping on a single track section (at night) to dismount 1 x Ugene Nel at pace (this will add the infamous Saffy twist)

Once blended and mixed well, add some fatigue and finish up with a 60km paddle down the mighty Orange River. Make sure its in flood.

Serve ice-cold, on the rocks with some thunderstorms and hail to give it that final bite.

All in all, one for the books! Highly recommended!

till next time!

what are girls made of.........?

What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice and all things nice! What are little boys made of? Frogs and snails and puppy dogs tails! What are big girls made of? Adventure and wine and all things fine!

With this in mind....it makes deciding on team mates pretty easy! 

Having raced relatively successfully last year as an All Girls Team, it seemed only natural to do it again. 

Once again, the team Jack Russell and donkey, Janine, didn't waste time in putting her hand up! She just can't resist any form of adventure. I even got her to pull an all-nighter fishing trip with me....with some rather impressive results. So at least we won't starve out there! 

Next to be rounded up was our pocket rocket pilot. I've had the privilege of knowing Jess since she was just about knee high to a grass hopper (not that much has changed) but she can only be described as delightful! She brings a fabulous combination of smiles, ability and determination. Anybody who flies planes for a living has got to be cool! 

And last but very definitely not least is the inspiring Kim van Kets. I'm really not sure where to begin with Kim. Every picture of her just exudes passion for what she does and who she is. Married to multi adventurer Peter van Kets just magnifies her adventurous spirit and I'm really thrilled to have her join our team.

As always, the hardest part of any race is getting the team together and to the race. Being all girls, we have a few extra challenges thrown at us such as motherly duties over and above our day jobs. But it's all part of the challenge and somehow we manage to juggle our lives to fit in training so that we are able to go out and enjoy the best that life has to offer.

of blisters, sunrises and tears...

Ansa Vanessa Janine Nikki

I normally do not struggle to talk or write...but somehow I have been at a total loss for words. Not because I have nothing to write about, but because I simply do not know how to quantify or do justice to the 6 days we were out there.

I guess to start I should maybe answer (albeit rather tongue in cheek!) a question posed to us by fellow racers Bloed and Omo: 'I often wondered how the all girl team coped with the stress when things didn't work out?"..... well I guess we coped the way woman have coped with hardship and pain for centuries.....we simply pushed harder! :)

This said, I must admit that this race hurt! I think the fact that I'd been sick for nearly 4 weeks before might have contributed to the hurt, but hurt it did. I did however learn many valuable lessons....socks being one of them! I also learnt what one can achieve if you put your mind to it...how far one can push on when your body mind heart and soul are screaming, begging you to stop. I learnt the true meaning of teamwork and camaraderie and I can only but thank my amazing team mates! YOU GIRLS ROCKED!

I think we were looked at with a mixture of amazement, and I guess a little bit of intrigue by many of our fellow racers. I was asked before the race who was going to navigate as there was no 'male' in our team.....when I replied that I was navigating, I was told rather matter of factly that we would no doubt be booking extra nights at Port Edward resort as we would probably not be out there for very long......as hard as it was....I refrained from commenting as I know how those things can come back and bite one!

I arrived at the race start in a very much less than desireable state...mentally and physically. The month leading up to d-day was apalling. A very tenacious chest infection invaded my body and was not at all keen to hit the road. I was literally forced into a 3-4wk taper of NO training! Panic started to set in properly about a week before and my last minute trying to find a replacement girl who could navigate did not help in the getting better struggle! This proved to be impossible, as did finding even a guy who could at the 11th hour fill in. So it was off to the warmer climes of Port Edward.  I still don't know how I managed to actually arrive there with all the necessary gear as my brain was not anywhere near to where it should have been! 

The day or two before the race is almost harder in some ways as the logistics, packing and planning have to be spot on in order for one to have a good race. We were on a very tight schedule to pack our bike boxes, especially as Vanessa and Ansa had been plagued by delays and arrived later than hoped. Luckily Janine and I had been able to assemble the bike boxes before they arrived.  After race briefing we were able to work out what we would need where, which resupply boxes needed what clothing and equipment and where we would be getting new maps. 

Saturday morning saw us hitting the beach with our local lad Bongani. Each year we are required to participate in a comunity project organised by Heidi and Stephan. This year, our challenge was to teach a local child how to paddle.....in the surf! Somehow I got selected by my team for this task....and in hindsight, it was the best thing as it paid off the next day. I'm not sure whether this 'lesson' was for the children, or rather for many of the teams not used to the sea!  

A picture worth a thousand words.....

Luckily for me, Bongani could swim quite well and his shrieks of absolute delight made any discomfort at getting a bit bashed around and wet all the worth while! He literally took to it like a duck to water!

That done, and with all the packing finally done and the kit checks and proficiency checks done, I finally managed to sneak off for some quiet time before race start at sunrise on Sunday.

I felt amazingly calm, which scared me in a way, as there were not going to be many free kilometers on this course. But then again, how does one prepare yourself for: 11km kayak, 12km trek, 5km kayak, 80km trek, 10km canyoning, 120km cycle, 67km kayak, 40km trek, 230km cycle?.....nonstop.......

Race day.....Somehow spectacular sunrises have a way of just making all worries go away and you are left feeling tingly!  

But that tingly feeling was not to last......as the sun rose higher, that lovely happy tingly feeling rapidly diminished as it then became obvious that this race was going to be starting with a bang....or rather a crunch! Mother nature had whipped up a good solid surf for us to battle, and war it was! I dont think there is a word that really explains because chaos doesn't come close! I think many eye-balls have yet to return into eye sockets! Vanessa and I were quite lucky to only have one big swim on the way out. We had almost made it out when a big wave took out three boats in front of us, smashing them into us!  But after some patience and playing cat and mouse with the big dumpers, we were safely out and looking for the other two who I was convinced had gotten out in front of us. No girls.....we peered with eager anticipation as boat after boat came limping through the surf.....but no girls...I started to wonder if they had indead made it out before us and had paddled on hoping to find us. 
Eventually the NSRI came close enough for me to ask about the girls. They confirmed that they were still trying to get through and after nearly an hour, we were eventually re-united....Janine already sporting the beginnings of a black eye and Ansa looking like she had been on a super wash tumble and spin cycle!

Leg 1 and we had already lost an hour.....not a good start, especially as I had been confident that our paddling skills would give us a good jump start as both Janine and I are not novices to paddling...but I guess that is the nature of the sport!

We quickly settled into a good rhythm. Being a keen fisher"woman" I was fascinated by the little patches of Sardines already visible as the Annual Sardine run started to make its way up the coast. I was hoping to see some game fish action as the birds were already showing signs of working, and although I saw one or two, it was not what I had hoped for, although I think secretly many racers were hoping for the opposite as it would also mean sharks!

As we neared the beach, my pulse rate started to rise again as this was my real nemesis, coming back in through the surf! I decided not to tell Vanessa how poep scared I was. You could almost feel the vibration of the surf pounding onto the beach through the water.  I decided not to be hasty and rather sit a bit and watch the sets.....something which I regularly do on my fishing ski.  My patience paid off as we caught a perfect wave from the backline, and with an interval here, a stall there, we managed to surf it all the way onto the beach and landed without even getting our hair wet....much to the amazement of a lone fisherman, who we later found out had had no end of entertainment with the other teams getting crunched.

Janine and Ansa were unfortunately not so lucky as they got crunched yet again resulting in a nasty swim coming in. They arrived on the beach looking rather like drowned rats! But.....still smiling!

It was a short little portage accross the sand dune to the river and a short hop and skip to the first CP. We were greated like heroes (we quite clearly had already developed a bit of a fan club...thank you guys....it was awesome!)  
We were in and out the unofficial transition pretty quick, shoes in drybags and packs secured to the boats, we headed off up the Umtamvuna River.  We caught the next team as we arrived at the start of the first trekking leg.  We wasted no time putting on shoes, but the legs were heavy to get going from sitting in the boat for so long. The trek would take us along beautiful forest single track, climbing up onto the plateau. Navigation was pretty straight forward as it was all marked hiking trail. Once at the top, we were under the full force of the sun, and it hurt. I'd lost my hat in the surf and I started to feel fried. 

We stopped for a quick water refill at the Conservation office and then headed back down to the river. We caught up to more teams and made our way along the rocky kloof, almost missing one of the check points....luckily we realised quickly enough and only had a short distance to back track, unlike some teams who had 5 odd km to come back!  A welcome swim accross the river cooled us off and brought us back to the boats. We paddled hard back to the boat club near the mouth and once there, it was action stations!  

We pushed hard to get out onto the long trek as quickly possible and utilise the remainig day light, something which would come back and bite me a day later. I had the marshal in hysterics as I finished sorting the maps out in my underwear (I think by the end she was used to the unfased and semi-naked state of the racers in transitions!)
Whilst I did the maps, the girls packed bags and organised food.  I made a big mistake and did not check my bag before I left, something for which i can only blame myself and for which I paid for later on as I ran out of food and had no spare dry socks.

We set off out of Transition with Bad Medicine and hunted for the quickest way to the beach.  Stupidly, this proved harder than expected, as we hit one electric fence after another and thick bush. Less haste....more speed...It took a while to get in sync with the map. We were joined by and caught up to a number of other teams and eventually we found the path and were on the beach.  My confidence with the map quickly started to grow. I forced myself to stop and take stock of where we were and get my mind into what I was seeing vs what was on the map. We hadn't been going long and the light started to rapidly fade. The sunset was the first of many beautiful treats from Mother Nature we would get to experience.  
As we found the path exiting the beach, we came accross a group of holiday makers having a very 'gesellige' braai! The offers of tjoppies and beer were tempting, but we tore ourselves away from the wonderful aromas and headed off towards the abseil.  I secretly was terrified of it, but I later learnt that I was not alone! Mike de Haast was just as nervous!

The nav to the abseil was pretty straight-forward, only the last section required a bit of concentration as it was easy to veer off inland. We arrived at the abseil and were stunned to see about 10 teams all huddled in sleeping bags. Initially I though we had caught up, but then realised they had been waiting for close on 2hrs! Out came all the warm clothing and sleeping bags and we tried to get some shut-eye....this proved impossible! Finally it was our turn.  I think the fact that it was dark was a blessing, as I could not see the 100m drop off the edge of the cliff! 
We were told that it was quite a tricky descent as there were overhangs and trees. We had already heard of Laura (Mike's wife) smashing her lip open.

This did absolutely NOTHING to still my nerves! I think Mike and I stood on the edge with equally big eyes and thumping hearts! Strangely though, no matter how terrified I am, if I am forced to do something, I just get on with it! Once over the edge, it became a matter of concentration. About half way down, I got thoroughly tangled up in one of the many trees.  The ropes had also gotten knotted up with each other, and my hiking poles which were attached to back of my backpack were also stuck on the wrong side of a branch.  The only way to untangle myself was to try jumar (ascend) back up the rope, not easy when you do not have an ascending device!  I sat in limbo for about a minute trying to figure out what to do. Fear was overcome by the need to be practical! After trying one handed to break branches, untangle ropes, hiking poles etc, I realised that the only way was to let go fo the rope completely and hope that my prussik would hold me safely so that I could use both hands. A scary prospect when you are hanging 50m off the ground! I think the fact that it was dark helped me ALOT! If I'd been able to see below me....and just how far I was from terra firma, I would probably still be hanging tangled up in that tree!
Branch broken, rope and hiking poles untangled, I now faced the next challenge, losening the prussik (which had unfortunately gotten stuck in my 8 -descending device) and continuing on my way! Luckily a fellow racer had explained to me during our kit check how to best do this, and after some shuffling of ropes and hand positions, I was eventually on my way down again, heart rate slowly returning to a manageable level!
I arrived at the bottom around the same time as Mike, and I'm sure I looked just as wide eyed as he did!

With all of us safely at the bottom, we set off accross the river and into agricultural land, heading for the coast.
Navving on a moonless night with no defining features is always challenging. I eventually gave up trying to following the cattle tracks, and we just bundu bashed through the long grass...not a very comfortable experience as we were very soon covered in spikey black-jack thorns. Having headed a bit too far north, we struggled to find the correct path to the river (of which there are many!). At one point, we popped out on the river bank, and after discovering that continuing along the bank was not an option, we considered swimming over....luckily I was not alone in my reluctance. It was very definitely supper time and the water was very alive.  Transkei rivers and I are not exactly the best of friends at the best of times. I do hold the unofficial record for swimming accross a flooding Transkei river mouth with a backpack! So back up the hill.  After about 30min, I saw a torch coming towards us. My first thought was, what on earth is a local doing walking around at this time (bearing in mind it was now past midnight! I asked the man if he spoke English. 'yes, he answered. My name is Riaan!'? my second thought was, that is NOT a local name.....but however strange I thought his presence might be, he didnt seem to think it at all strange that we should be fumbling around in the dark and promtly told us to follow him. When we got to the river, he pulled out a boat.......aha! it was a bit of a squeeze.....but he seemed unfazed and with me sitting on the gunnel, my bum just milimetes above the water (most of the time!) and the rest trying to maintain the critial balance of keeping the boat level, we headed off for what was a much longer paddle than we had all anticipated. Eventually, wet bum and all, we were deposited on the bank on the other side. Riaan received our thanks with a quiet nod and was off back to his boat and no doubt back to the other side.
 
Being back on the beach was like being on a highway. The pace was just so much faster. Partly because the nav was straight forward, but also, no bushwacking!
We got to quite a deep river, and it was time for our first 'swim'. We all quickly realised that it was time to bare all! Everyone set about stripping off and wading / swimming accross the surging water. I had the amusing  experience of becoming up close and personally aquainted with one of Mike's tatoos........which brought some laughs to us all! But sadly, the laughs were short lived. Whilst getting dressed, I heard Mike say to Mark (Bad Medicines team captain), 'hey Mark, don't you want to come here quickly'......... now, having a husband who has a habbit of doing things to himself whilst out working and often hearing that specific tone of.....nix, wont you come help me quickly.....I know far too well what "that" tone means. My heart sank! I looked up and saw blood gushing out of Mikes foot! Oh dear!
But some prompt flushing out with my water bottle and Marks practised ER ability, Mark had him cleaned up and strapped up in no time! But stitches were in demand, and for this, Mike would have to wait till we could make contact with the Medic.
I must just add at this point, that Mike is one TOUGH bugger! I dont know of many people who would have carried on with a gash like that. It was also in the worst possible place, on the ankle!

But as they say, time waits for no man. After yet another river crossing, we left the beach to travel inland a bit as the beach and turned to rocks which with the high tide was too dicey.....this proved a mistake and after wasting some time, decided that it was time for some shut-eye. It was 4am, so 2hrs would take us to sunrise. Sleep although she had been knocking on the door for some time, suddenly became really elusive when I invited her in. I think the fact that I was not happy with our current route choice had a lot to do with it and when the time to get up finally arrived, I told the other that I thought we should go the 2km back to the coast and take our chances with the ragged coastline. This proved to be a much better option.  We took a slight 'cross country option' back to the beach and quickly settled into a good rhythm.

The heat of the day started to set in, and water suddenly started to become an issue, as we're my feet. Wet sandy socks were starting to take their toll and despite trying everything I could think of, it was getting worse.  We eventually arrived at a backpackers which doubled up as a checkpoint, hoping to find not only some food, but also the medic who was meant to meet us there with a suture kit for Mark. To our dismay, neither were available. After emptying the fridge of remaining cold drinks, we set off again, heading inland and towards a big gorge. 
The trek into the gorge was beautiful, and to my delight I found not one, but TWO dry socks, at different times, caught up in trees (obviously belonging to other racers who had been through as I doubt the locals would be wearing Falke mountain biking socks! ) suddenly my world seemed to improve (amazing how simple things can make one happy!) so with socks stuffed into the side pockets of my backpack, we continued down. My plan was to wash my feet, put new dressings on and then FRESH CLEAN DRY SOCKS! Bliss. I could not wait.

After an argument with a poison ivy we eventually hit the river. The water was crystal clear and we jumped in backpacks and all and swam the short distance accross. The minute my head went under the water, I cursed as I realized my dream of dry socks, had just vanished! Sh*t. I nearly cried!  How could I be so dam stupid!

I remembered in Stephan's instructions in the briefing that he made a important point about the gorge and the crossing. Within a few minutes, we realized what he had meant. Finding the path out, was proving to be the biggest challenge yet. We searched and searched, and by the evidence of the many footprints up and down the bank, we were not the first to do so. At one point, annoyed at the waste of time we tried to bundu bash up, but quickly realized this was not an option. There simply had to be a path. The path we had come down was well worn by the locals, there was a village at the top on the other side. I decided to go back accross the river and go up stream a bit to see if anything was more obvious from there. Suddenly, from a different angle, something resembling a path caught my eye. I rushed back accross and shouted to the others in absolute delight.....yay! Onwards and upwards!

Man, the trek out was lung popping to say the least. We eventually hit the top huffing and puffing.

But as with any race, there is no peace for the navigator and now it was time to focus again on where we were going. A network of cattle tracks and jeep track lead us through golden grassland and we were treated to yet another glorious sunset. We weaves in and out of an reserve, clambouring over and through game fences and it was during this time that I took probably the hardest and silliest wipe I've had in a while. We were walking along a jeep track in the dark, headlamps on dim to save batteries, and I stepped over a blue gum branch lying in the road. As I stepped over it, Ansa stepped on it and it popped up sending me sprawling literally face first into the ground! Luckily I came off relatively unscathed.

Slowly we started to head back towards the coast and Mkambati. Mark had arrange to meet the medics at the light house on the other side of the river. We arrived at the old holiday resort on the eastern side of the river and started to hunt for a way down to the river. All we could see in the dark was steep densely vegetated slopes....not something we wanted to tackle. After some wandering between the derelict buildings I found a jeep track, which brought us to a beautiful old stone house, ablaze with lights. We begged some water and whilst chatting to the one lady, discovered her to be the mom of a girl I knew. It was really hard to leave, especially after the offer of red wine and old brown. But with heavy shoes, we donned our backpacks and headed off down the garden path (quite literally) and down to yet another river crossing and to the lighthouse.

The light of the medic van was like a gift from heaven. Mark got busy on Mikes ankle, and the medics got busy on the rest of us, blisters, septic thorns and cuts.......we decided to try and get some shut eye, and with the absence of any kind of tree, it was a cold and time wasting affair. I didn't sleep a wink.....again.....we packed up and headed off, leaving Bad Medicine behind. After an hour or so, the sleep monsters came in hard. We found an embankment of sorts with a tree and tried to sleep. Sleep was fitful and minimal and it was with a very heavy brain and eyelids that we carried on.

Getting going over a sleep is the worst. I find my body shuts down and your body temp drops. I have uncontrollable shakes when I get up, but luckily it doesn't stay for long. For me, even worse than the cold, were my feet. I was now officially in agony. The medic had drained close on 60ml of bloody puss out of my foot at the lighthouse, and the other blisters were starting to look just as dodge.

With sunrise, came villages, and hundreds of school kids all making their way to their various schools. All ages, some carrying their younger siblings, some running and some just enjoying the early morning glow. They looked at us with interest and some asked where we were going and where we had come from, their responses to our answers were amusing to say the least.

Breakfast came in the form of a local spaza shop. We had long ago run out of race food. Baked beans, tinned pilchards, bread, milk and coke..man it was gourmet! And yes, the locals were now convinced these whites had seriously been smoking too much mountain cabbage! Whilst making our way up and around a koppie, emotions and pain hit me hard. It was to be the start of many dark moments. Ansa sang us a beautiful song, which left us all quiet and reflective.

It wasn't long before Bad Medicine popped out of the long grass, still hungry and wanting to stock up, we pulled into another spaza shop. With stomachs now VERY full, we continued on to the final challenge for the long trek....the canyon. We hit the trail down in to the canyon, with the sun fading fast.  With darkness almost completely upon us, we hit the nerve wracking drops and massive boulders.

Route finding was stressful. Luckily we had some slings with us and were able to use these to negotiate the bigger drops. The rocks were like walking on bars of soap, and what would have been a 6 hour stint in daylight, turned into a monster 14hr crawl in the dark. It was brutal to raw blistered feet and Mikes delicately stitched ankle.

Lack of sleep started to produce some entertaining illusions. I was convinced that we had a herd of Nguni's in front of us.  I kept seeing cows in the mist in front of me. We all saw day-glo flags which we were convinced was the check point. Finally though, the real check point materialized and after the final muddy crawl up to the road, it was the last final bit along the tar to Mboyti. I cried with relief! A hot shower to warm up and into one of the tents for some much needed sleep....but once again, it wasn't great. My body clock knew it was

morning and after less than an hour of fitful sleep, I gave up. We had decided with bad medicine  to leave together. I did the maps, got my feet seen to and tried to pluck up the courage to put on my bike shoes.

My feet were horribly swollen not only from the long trek, but also from the now very septic blisters.  Just putting on socks was painful.

Eventually I couldn't put it off any longer and on went the shoes. I was immediately rewarded by excruciating pain and light headedness which had me on my back and in tears of pain.  Doubt started to creep in...could I ride 160km with feet like this......?

With help I got my backpack on and hobbled to my bike. Once cleated in, the pain eased.......but cleating out was a challenge. I also became aware of Chaffe behind my knee from sand that had gotten into my tights on the canyon leg.  It was going to be a looong ride.

Leaving Mboyti we were greated by a brutal climb back up onto the plateau. The nav was relatively straightforward as we headed to the magnificent Magwa falls. 
Our route took us through villages and rolling grassland hills. We hit one of the busier towns at the worst possible time. Rush hour evening traffic, which in Africa is even more chaotic than in other countries! Having survived that, we hit the dark. After riding off the road and down the bank when I fell asleep, it was time to try and get some shuteye. It was cold and after a fitful hour in a not so great spot, I realized that instead of Ansa's warm body, I'd been spooning her bike! Lesson learnt for the next time round!

With tiredness come a slow brain, and a silly nav error saw us taking a bit of a detour, irritating, but it could have been worse. The sunrise once again was spectacular. Around mid day we hit the top of a massive bowl shaped valley. We could see the river way down in the valley where we were meant to paddle. The cycle leg had been lengthened by 40km due to the river level being too low. 

The hike down into the valley was a steep, stony and slippery affair. Not good on painful feet. The ride out the other side, was brutally steep in places and even more agony on painful feet. Eventually we hit the last road to the transition and start of the river paddle. A roadside shebeen proved too good to resist and armed with dumpies (1L bottles of beer) we flew down the hill to the boats.

Seeing bad medicine about to leave, we left the beer, grabbed our boats and hot footed (hobbled) down to the river. Paddling was a very welcome change and we pushed hard to make use of the daylight. We were treated to some interesting sights such as a lone JCB stuck in the mud in the middle of the river. Once the sun set, the river came alive. Mullet jumping nonstop. Vanessa got slapped in the face by one and I had a few land between my feet. There were clear signs of a hunt as leervis caused eruptions amongst the mullet....making one think about what else was swimming around in the Port St Johns river, an area notorious for what I call tax men.....sharks.

After just over an hour and a bit, we hit the banks of the resort and transition. We'd made exceptionally good time.

Once dry and warm, we sorted our kit, did the maps and gobbled some pizza. The medics had a go at my feet, draining unbelievable amounts of bloody puss from all four of the heal blisters. all patched up, We opted to make use of the warmth and security of the conference room to sleep, whilst bad medicine opted to head out and sleep on the route. This proved to be our best decision. For the first time in five days, I slept a solid two hours, uninterrupted and unconcerned. 

Getting up was hard....putting on shoes.....almost impossible. The first few km were unpleasant to say the least. But eventually everything seemed to settle into a place that was bearable and after some silly bundu bashing, we were in a good rhythm. At first light we hit the first proper river crossing for the day. The was deceivingly deep and fast flowing. Something we discovered when Vanessa almost got swept out to sea! Stripped of everything from the waist down, we certainly supplied video man Steve with some interesting footage!

Hot on the heals of bad medicine, we trekked back up along what must be one of the most beautiful sections of coastline in the world, to Mboyti.  Another river crossing, followed by some unsuccessful path finding, saw us crawling, clambouring and clinging up a very steep cliff-like slope. Not my strong point and it was with huge relief that I eventually crawled on all fours through the brush onto the top. 

Sometime around lunchtime, my feet developed a friend in the problem department.....nausea....a borreling stomach. We'd heard reports of other teams succumbing to gastro....I hoped it was not the case. Water had been a big issue for me during the race. I was consuming ALOT. More than the others. Partly to help with the anti-inflammatories.

We came accross another team with a very sick member, lying under a bush. We gave them our remaining food as they were going to be there for a while.

Water started to become a desperate issue. Eventually I scooped from a cow poo infested stream, threw in some purifying tablets and waited. I'd thrown in an extra one for good measure and realized after the first sip, that it was undrinkable.

My illusion of Nguni cows came back.....I wondered along in a rather brain dead state, just focussing on putting one foot in front of the other....when I nearly tripped over a cow. This time a real life breathing bovine, sunning itself along with about 50 others on the beautiful white sand of the beach. I was still not sure if it was my brain as it looked just too idyllic! white sand, palm trees, beautiful blue water.....but then I realised that it was actually real and not just another illussion!

Eventually the road off the beach and to Mbotyi appeared in the distance.  Walking down the road to meet us was race organiser Stephan. He came bearing gifts....an apple each and a bottle of juice. Neither hung around for long.....although at that stage I think any liquid I drank fast disappeared in tears!  Stephan ever practical told us to move it and get to Mbotyi. we had limited time to get going and were we carrying on. 
It was hard for me.  Harder than one would think. My feet were a mess.  I was very aware that I was now very much the weak link and that I was getting slower. I also could not carry on with popping anti-inflamatories and the thought of putting on my cycle shoes again was almost too hard to bear. No matter what my heart said, I still held out hope of continuing and decided rather to wait for the Medic before making my final decision.

Arriving at Mbotyi was a bit like arriving at a field hospital tent.  Bodies were strewn everywhere. Some curled up in sleeping bags, some staring into space whilst trying to pack gear for the final leg and others getting patched up by the medics. To my amazement there were far more teams than I expected. Some whom I had anticipated would be hours/days  ahead of us.  A very sore looking Lettuce (James Stewart of PennyPinchers team) popped out, feet wrapped up and looking to be a similar state to mine.  
The medic gingerly pulled off the dressing on my worst blister and was greated by an erruption of gunky goo......one look at his face told me the answer to my question. My race was now officially over. Out came the scalpal and an hour later the pressure and mess that was my feet started to look a little better. 
The girls were pushed for time now as they had to chase the light and the tide. They didnt waste any time in getting ready and it was an increadibly emotional goodbye. My heart was absolutely shattered! Staying was probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to do!  They set off for a short cycle on the beach and then back onto the backroads for what was now a shorted cycle of aournd 140km back to Port Edward.

I loaded my gear into a friends bakkie, and along with James 'lettuce' and camera-man Steve, started the long trip by road back to Port Edward.  There is nothing direct about the roads in the Transkei. It was a long and bumpy trip on the back of an open bakkie. I apologised to Steve for smelling like a pig sty, and asked if I could share his sleeping bag! Bless him, he obliged, so at least I didn't have to add 'hypothermic' to my list of ailments! 

The girls by this stage had left the beach and now had the task of navigating the spiderweb of transkei roads in the fading light with a full night of challenges ahead of them.  I was worried that they would manage as I had done all the night time navigating up to that point. 

Arriving at Port Edward was an emotional affair. There are few things that hurt like intense disappointment. One always has that feeling of....have I made the right decision. Was it really that bad, could I have carried on......

After a hot shower, and some borrowed clothes (thanks to the Merrell Adventure Addicts) we headed to the restuarant for some food. Thank goodness their Chalet was right next to the restuarant. Even so, walking....hobbling was painful and slow!  My steak looked tantalising, smelled tantalising.....but my stomach had other ideas. A couple of double flick flacks later and I realised that my steak would have to wait for tomorrow.
Sometime after dinner we received a call from Vanessa saying that Ansa was in a bad way.  Tweet advised them to find a place to stop and bed down for a bit and to continue in the morning.  
By morning we could see they were on the go again. It was so frustrating to sit and watch them on the screen.  I tried to keep myself busy with collecting all our bags and gear that we had stored during the race and drying wet gear that had arrived back. 
Entertainment of the day went in the form of the local Doctor. The medics had insisted that I get my feet seen to. His waiting room soon looked like a local vagrant hangout. Bodies lying on the floor sleeping under chairs. Swolen raw feet wrapped in all manner of dressings up on chairs and the odd cry of pain from within.  The Doctor when I got to see him seemed to still be recovering from a big night and did not do much to instil a sense of wellbeing, especially as he looked like he had been painting in his pajamas!
Clad in some very funky purple floral slippers, I spent the rest of the day pottering around sorting out the remainder of the gear and trying to ignore the frustration.

Just before Prize giving and the closing ceremony, word came in the that Stephan had collected the remaining teams and that they were almost at the resort.

It was very emotional seeing the girls cross the line. I was so proud of what we and they had achieved! It was an epic journey, with many challenges. Highlights and definitely many lows. But we all grew as individuals and I'm sure that the memories that were made will be with us forever!

Thank you girls for being such awesome team mates! You girls ROCKED!
Thank you to Heidie and Stephan and all the volunteers for making the race such an amazing one and thank you to Kevin from EXTREME PROJECTS for his belief in us and his sponsorship!

Till next time!

......because girls aren't just compulsory equipment!