Team: Gerard van Weele, Alan Lloyd, Vicky Christy and Pablo Casado

When do you classify a team as a recreational AR team? This is the existential question that nags me after the Xtra Large SX2006. We are a self-admitted recreational team, but after finishing this year's Swazi, does that categorisation still apply?

Our race started out with a bit of irony. Whereas (nearly) everyone else decided to run like hares after teams Powerade Cyanosis and Duesouth, instead of thinking for themselves, we set off at a walking pace at the back of the field. I would like to put this down to strategy alone, but admittedly we were still trying to tie the last items to our backpacks, tighten the last straps and double check our equipment as the race started out. Imagine our surprise therefore when soon after we clip CP1, the Cyanosis/Duesouth circus comes streaming past, blasting a way through the marsh for us. If that isn't an encouraging way for your navigator to start a race then I don't know what is! One little sour note though – some of the top teams could do well with some manners. Knocking teams with better navigation off their feet in your rush to make up for your own mistake is bad sportsmanship. After this incident however the rest of the first hike, swim, wade, hike, shuffle, wade, scramble, wade, etc. went without much excitement.

The experiences by the different members of our team of the rafting leg that followed were interesting to analyze after the race. In our team we had one reckless daredevil (Whoooohooooo!!!!!), one super-cool thrill seeker (That line looks better…), one sanity preserver (Thanks, I'll portage) and lastly me as ballast to keep the nose of the boat down (What just happened?). By implication, I can remember a fair amount more about looking back at rapids than actually going over them. I put this down to a self-preservation induced selective memory. This particular ability tends to blank out memories of staring down over a drop-off, and rather focuses on the more serene view of the cascading water from below. Some memories however refuse to go away. Like never paddling flat water for more than about 10 minutes at a time. Or getting caught in more strainers than I ever cared to see in my life. Or even the rush of going down rapids the wrong way round with absolutely no control over your speeding couch (I mean…croc).

Capsizing moments I can also remember fairly clearly. Our first swim came very embarrassingly after we successfully ran the first main rapid and then got beached at the bottom. We kind of “got with the flow” after that, but we had one sobering, but still entertaining tipping out of the boat at a later point. Indecision left Alan and me pinned by the water on top of a 2-3m drop-off, unable to move the boat. At this point the experience that Alan and I shared split into two parallel realities. I stepped out of the boat to dislodge the nose (not quite understanding that Alan's end of the boat was still semi-floating), but Alan is still convinced that I was deserting a sinking ship like the proverbial rat. As it were, the boat did dislodge. Much faster than anticipated. Alan had no choice but to donate himself bodily to the monsters of the maelstrom whilst I fell lengthwise in the boat with my customary “What the…?” expression on my face. Afterwards I understood the return look from Alan, which wasn't too kind, when he showed me his cracked helmet…

We thoroughly enjoyed the rafting though. As we were sipping coffee the morning after the race, staring out over Swaziland, we reflected that this rafting is one of the best disciplines we have ever faced in local AR.

Following the rafting was a mtb leg that took us well into the night. Only one memorable incident here – as I was changing the bulb on one of our bike lights. I gave Alan the old bulb to hold whilst I get the new one operational, but none of us realized that he was chowing down on some peanuts, least of all himself. His analysis of the situation that followed goes something like this:

“As Gerard asked what happened to the old bulb, there was a sudden understanding in my conscious brain that centered around a certain hard bit of peanut that just found its way in-between my teeth. Unfortunately, the understanding was far slower than the sub-conscious instruction to my jaw to bite down hard.”

Copious amounts of spitting followed.

At the end of the mtb leg was the downhill section that Darron warned us about from the first notice of the race. To be honest, at this point of the night I felt far more comfortable riding down the hill than slipping and sliding down with cycling shoes struggling for grip on the gravel and sand. It was a strange feeling though to look back and not see people behind you, but rather on top of you! I can do with a DH like this on any race. Maybe someday I'll catch one in daylight.

Next – hiking. Tasked with finding CP 13 along the river, it appeared as if there were two route options; either along the river, or up and over the ridge. At this point quite a few teams were milling about in the same area, uncertain about which was the better option. Our decision was influenced by a number of things, namely the uncertainty of the river, the darkness, our state of tiredness, availability of landmarks and calculations of elevation changes on the ridge option. Whilst we were still debating these matters on the way to the crucial point of decision, we by chance ran into a Sport event team who were semi-lost. They indicated that the jeep track that we were hiking along terminated at a specific checkpoint a little way up the ridge. As they also had to find the exact same CP13, we figured that the hike over the ridge must be within the capabilities of the Sport teams if they are being guided over it, and this sealed our decision.

The hike up the hill (mountain) was quite tough, with an estimated climb of 400-600m, but we made very good time and would have gained quite a bit of time relative to the other teams on the same hike, but unfortunately our choice of a route of the mountain proved to be less opportune. In the dark it was impossible to avoid thick vegetation, and we ended up getting well mired in steep valleys. Fortunately, as we neared the bottom of the descent, it got light, and we were able to negotiate a better way down. We met some of the teams from the previous night at CP13, and compared notes. Although we took the same time on the hike, it seemed clear that we took far less of a beating than the river option teams. Next time though, we will probably be able to scout a better route down a mountain.

After a welcome transition (the hike took us about 12 hours) we were back on bikes. The jeep track that Darron sent us on resulted in mixed opinions in our team though. Some of us found the track perfect, with an exhilarating DH and 95% rideability (ok, only I did). The rest were reverting to the definitive AR state in which you are pushing your bike, all the while cursing the race organiser, the twat who convinced you to do the race, your fitness instructor and global warming in general. All good things have to come to an end though, and this wasn't a good thing. After this bit, we climbed two more major mountains (with their associated downhills…) at night, found and crossed several streams and one major river, helped some more Sport teams find their way, and consumed vast amounts of sugar to stay alive.

I can't really remember in which order all of this happened, as by this stage sleep deprivation kicked in properly, and some of us started hallucinating. I nearly jumped over the railings of a bridge in an attempt to get out of the way of a non-existing truck. Vicky however decided to rather keep quiet about her “Swazi-style, Ku-Klux-Klan costumed, tribal dancing ceremony”. She knew it wasn't too normal a gathering that she was witnessing but thought that surely we have all seen it, so it must be ok then!

The hike terminated at the (just about) final leg in that included the rope work at the end of a kloofing section. We arrived at the transition in the middle of the night, and were debating about whether we should attempt the kloofing at night or not. Upon inquiry however it was obvious that teams are spending two to three times as long in the kloof at night, and since we are a “recreational” team, the decision very rapidly became a universal one with the team opting for our first sleep in the race whilst we wait for first light. It proved to be a good decision, as some war stories have come out about the nighttime kloofing.

I trust that at this point nothing more needs to be added about the ropework section. Darron never disappoints in this department. Added to this year's ropes was one hell of an extra large view that rewarded any team with some time to kill whilst waiting for others to clear the ropes.

Our race wasn't quite over yet. As an afterthought, and maybe in protest over all the abuse, Pablo's bike decides to have one last convulsion. As we are cycling to the finish, his front shock disintegrates with such force that the bits hit him against the collar bone! With that however, the race was done with us, and we had a leisurely cruise into the finish, in time for prize-giving.

Darron Raw, Swazi Trails and Co. once again offered the best of Swaziland for our pleasure (did I just say pleasure?), and gave us a challenge that was pitched at the perfect difficulty level. Thanks guys, and let the good work continue. I think we are hooked on Swazi (gedit? haha) «