This 120km adventure race was the grand finale of what had been a fantastic series of 5 races put together by the Capestorm WCAD guys, a passionate group of AR enthusiasts and top racers in their own right.
As much as I had been looking forward to this race, it arrived at a time of year when I felt pretty low on motivation to do any sort of training and I relied heavily on ‘residual fitness’ i.e what’s left after weeks of doing very little but beer and braaivleis with spring fever in the air. Furthermore, the race would need to be squeezed inbetween putting the kids to bed on Friday night and attending my three-year old’s first ballet concert on Saturday night! After much due consideration and spreadsheets detailing our race plan, it was decided that my only hope of making the ballet was if we did the short course. We entered it, and then upgraded to the long!
At the campsite, we parked way off to one side so that we would be able to get some sleep in peace and quiet before the 2am start. At around 11pm, two cars arrived at the camp site and also joined us way off to one side, because they were going to make a hell of a noise. By midnight they had themselves a bonfire going and song and dance. This eliminated the problem of waking up at 1h45, we were already awake, and we trudged off to the dreary eyed start. Race briefing consisted of a few mumblings along the lines of please don’t capsize in the dam in the dark because we have no idea how we’ll find you.
My biggest fears while sleeping in the car before the race had been being cold, miserable and lost on a moonless, choppy, windswept Theewaterskloof dam. Followed by an epic 60km slog on the bikes with a choice of missing the ballet or having to short course ourselves. I had no fears about the hike or the final cruise on the bikes to the finish. As it turned out, I had it the wrong way around!
The paddle went smoothly on a perfectly smooth, black inky surface of the calmest water, lit by stars in a cloudlit sky. The sliver of a moon, when it finally appeared, was beautifully perched above the horison. By 4h15 we were packing for the ride.
We navigated our way through the farms along the shoreline fairly easily, taking a beeline through a golf-estate and later as we climbed away from the dam we enjoyed the journey through rolling farmland dotted by sheep; the altitude we gained giving us vistas of pristine carpets of agriculture interspersed with belts of untouched fynbos. We opted for a not-recommended shortcut which shaved off 10k but required walking our bikes through fynbos and over a fence, then chucking them down a flaky embankment and wading through a river. All of which took more time than the longer route on roads!
Anyway we arrived at transition mid-morning feeling happy to be ahead of our race plan and about to knock off this little 12k hike. The first CP was a foefie slide into the middle of a dam, which provided some relief from the heat.
Then we put our shoes on and after setting off towards the wrong mountain peak, we corrected our course and slogged up towards the correct 1000m ‘rocky high point’ of which there were rather many. It was getting quite hot at this time of the day and we were glad of what little breeze there was. Eventually we found the first CP and proceeded to the second with less difficulty before beating our way down towards a dam through seriously unfriendly burnt protea bush. By the time we approached the dam the protea bush had become rather bothersome and expletives were heard from all quarters as 3 teams in close proximity tried to find the best way. For the last 500m or so, all of us opted to walk in the stream bed itself to escape the pesky bushes.
We were greeted at the dam by a trio of loud blue cranes. The national bird amidst burnt examples of the national flower. Dirk remarked that if he had to design a bird, that’s what it would look like. From there on, each of the teams went their separate way as we tried to find two CP’s around the dam in optimal fashion, with more protea bashing ensuing until we arrived back at transition somewhat disenchanted with proteas, but slightly ahead of “worst-case” schedule. It was still looking good for the ballet. Just a drag up the hill and then downhill home.
The hill, however, was of the never-ending sort. It went on and on and the day got hotter and hotter. When we finally reached the high-point and the second-last CP at a dam, we were rather shattered. “Residual fitness” had been exposed. Each beer and glass of wine of the preceding weeks had been sweated out. But hey, we could now look forward to some high-speed downhill cruisin’. Just over the edge of the hill we could see some schweet looking smooth dirt road heading down the valley.
We bombed down, but made an awful discovery – it went nowhere, other than doubling back on itself around an orchard. Aaaargh! That meant pushing our bikes back up the hill we had so gleefully descended and starting the search for the real path. Ye Olde Doubt crept into our minds. We’d stuffed it up on the last CP again! I could see the race plan going for a ball of the brown stuff and didn’t dare think of the disappointment involved in missing my three-year old’s ballet. Then an sms arrived from my wife, declaring that her ballet shoes and tiara were in my car. Our low spirits were reflected in our language and I’m sure the race director Grant’s ears were burning.
Upon reaching our last known position, we found the Leprechauns about to embark on the same mistake as we. Together we identified a vague rocky trail and tentatively set out on it. Soon it confirmed itself as the correct route, but also affirmed its status as the baddest piece of technical downhill I have ever had the displeasure of riding. Such a waste. All that hard-earned altitude could have been converted into 10km of flowing smooth downhill, but no, the WCAD guys thought it best to try one last time to break us and our bikes by vectoring us onto this excuse for a trail, littered with loose round rocks and pebbles ranging in size from marbles to bowling balls.
With Dirk’s immortal words “Let’s get the f*** off this mountain” ringing in my ears we bounced more than rolled down the treacherous slope, first prize being to avoid breaking anything akin to a collarbone, skull, bike frame or wheel.
We eventually arrived at the finish not ecstatic but satisfied, the same feeling you get when you have finally swatted an irritating fly and it wasn’t properly dead after the first swat so you’ve swatted it an extra five times for good measure. Assisted by Dirk, I had another quick transition and set off solo on Stage 5, the drive home via the Franshoek Pass to get to the ballet.
I fought back the tears as the curtain parted for the show.
Author: Ronald Jessop | Team Parallel (Ronald raced with Dirk Schreuder) | WCAD #5 Theewaterskloof, 10 November 2012
So glad dad made it to the ballet. Will make getting to the next race so much easier for him with the probability of things going to plan already once proven.