Cape Odyssey 2008

Lesotho Wildrun 2011

Just back from my last WildRun experience. This time in the Maluti Mountains of central Lesotho. Or as Dayle and I were joking on the drive down in the car to the event, “our first international multi-day trail event”! ;)

Five hours drive from Johannesburg saw us at the border post on a Wednesday afternoon. All went smoothly, and a short drive later, we were parking at the rendezvous point that had been arranged, for the transfer up into the mountains, where we were to start running from at first light on Thursday morning.

It was good to see a few familiar faces on the bus with us: Jo Mackenzie was her usual bubbly self, Kelvin Trautman was there to work his magic with his camera, as was Andrew King on the video side. But mostly it was bunch of new faces, in the small group that met for the race briefing before dinner that evening. We had dinner, and everyone drifted off to their rooms to pack, plan and prepare for an early start.

DAY 1 – RAMABANTA TO SEMONKONG

Distance: 45km
Vertical Gain: 1879m

05h45 Thursday morning, and 26 twitchy runners gathered on the lawn outside Ramabanta Lodge for the start. No one was taking the “compulsory kit” check nearly as seriously as the organisers were... It looked like a beautiful day, and I was rather baffled, and just a little annoyed I was expected to have a headlamp, rain jacket, beanie, spare batteries for the GPS, fully charged phone, space blanket, whistle, etc, etc, all stuffed into my pack. I was happy to be carrying some water and a few snacks, (the 45km route had me guessing I would be out there for somewhere around five to five and a half hours perhaps)? And there were no water tables or seconding stations, so water and snacks, they were good. And my camera.... But all this other junk?

Maritz getting ready for the start of Day One. These maps were for real, not just for show. I should have spent more time doing this....

Anyway, so the crack of dawn arrived, And Owen the Race Director felt there was enough light for us to start, so off we went. Down the lawns towards the river, across a footbridge, and into the foothills of some reasonably impressive mountain thingies that loomed ever larger in front of us. Dayle and I kept it real... We set ourselves up in the middle of the field somewhere, and watched Jo go haring off with some of the racing snakes, and five of the development runners from Lesotho, up front.

It took us about 2km to realise we were already lost. Dayle was paying more attention to his GPS than I was. Truth be told I was still trying to work out how this thing worked... So for the moment I was content to sit back and let the front runners do the hard yards in finding us a route. But after a minute or two in a huddle together, scratching our heads, staring at the map we had been given, and comparing GPS tracks together, we were in agreement that the front runners were way off course already. This was rather perplexing... Did the local runners up front know something we didn’t know, or were they just caught up in the excitement of the start, and were not even looking at their GPS’s? We couldn’t decide, but committed to following the correct route as laid out on the map. We hoped this would pay us dividends later, so we set off up a mountain to our right.

This wasn’t easy. These mountains are riddled with paths, made by goats or sheep. These paths are like spider webs. They criss-cross. Each looks like the real thing, so you run with it. But in 50 meters it disappears into nothing. The side of the mountain is covered in a tough, sticky shrub that began to reduce our legs to a bloody, itchy mess. It was rocky and unpredictable under foot. One hour in, and whilst we were sure we were on the right track now, we had only covered 5km...

And as the light came, the scale of the challenge began to bite. Each time we crested a hill or saddle ahead, we were greeted by an energy sapping drop down into another valley, followed by an even more impressive climb on the other side. And there was water everywhere. My feet were already soaked. I should have been prepared for this, but I wasn’t.

With the thickness of the bush, the water and stone under foot, and the severity of the gradients we were covering, (aaahh, and the altitude), our pace was reduced to little more than a fast hike. We would run when we could, but often this was no more than a hundred meters. And every time you focused on your feet and path selection for too long, and didn’t pay attention to the map and GPS... Well then you would find you had to track back to find the route. The fact we could see no one else ahead, or even behind us, well, this might be good, but it could also be pretty bad. If you weren’t there, it’s probably hard to understand, but maybe the picture below will help give you a sense...

Briggie following on “the route”... You can see other runners, as long as you are within about 20m of each other....

Perhaps two hours into the race, and we caught another small group just outside a tiny village. We held court with Will Duk, Briggie Kirchman, and Lissa Parsons, and agreed that whilst the pace was far below our expectation, we were on the right track, and an unspoken alliance was formed.

The meeting in the village...”Dr. Livingstone, I presume” might have been appropriate.

We arrived at CP 1 after about 5 hours. This was the time I thought we might be looking for the finish..... And we weren’t half way yet. And the fact that CP1 comprised only a marshal on a motorbike, no water, drinks, nothing to eat or provide some happiness to our tired bodies, well this just made it even worse. We spent a few minutes gaining any “intel” we could from the marshal on the route, our position in the field etc, while he gouged holes in our maps to prove we had been there. We ate sparingly from our meagre food cache, realising that unless things got very much better, we would be out in the field all day.

An hour later, and we were at the mercy of finding streams that we could determine would be clean and safe to drink from, in order to stay hydrated. We picked those “above the village line”, avoided pools with animal tracks around them. Fortunately, streams of crystal clear, ice cold water weren’t hard to find, and we stopped regularly to scoop up handfuls of sweet water at any opportunity, or to top up our bottles or packs.

Water table, WildRun style...

That didn’t help the hunger levels that were becoming fairly intense, and it wasn’t long until the members of our little “peloton” were swapping fantasies about what they would pay top dollar for... My personal favourite was steak egg and chips. Dayle wanted salad? Huh? But the stories kept us amused, and the chirps were flowing. And being in a group had its advantages too. It meant we could share the responsibility of navigation. Will Duk seemed accomplished at map reading. Dayle’s GPS was different to ours, and provided some extra distance data. So we fell into a routine of “conferencing” together every 15mins or so... These “conferences” seemed to resemble meetings of the ANC Youth League, with much shouting, waving of arms, pointing and gesticulating....

In the early afternoon, our group gained another member. We found Kevin Balfour higher up on a ridge, wandering around trying to figure out where he should be going. He had been “befriended” by two local shepherds, who looked vaguely amused by their discovery of their new play thing, this strange white man. We held a brief conference, and declared he could join our merry band if we could eat all of his food, and he carried all of our bags for the last kilometre of the run.

I will save you the rest of the detail, but after nine hours, we could see the village of Semonkong, and we eventually crossed the finish line for the day in 11^th place, in 09:50:03. I for one was more than a little surprised to discover we were in joint 11^th place, and that Briggie and Lissa were the second and third ladies to cross the line. That meant more than half the field was still out there somewhere...

We were tired, hungry, and pretty grumpy. We took a much needed shower, had “lunch” (at 17h00?), booked a massage, and vegged out near the bar. Dayle and I discovered an amazing new recovery drink called milk stout... J

It was only later that it began to dawn on us how fortunate we were. Several of the participants were still out in the field, either lost, or struggling with the course. The final guys were brought in out of the darkness, (and in those hills it is properly dark), by motorbike nearly fifteen hours after the start... Suddenly the concept of carrying a headlamp, and some foul weather gear didn’t seem quite so ludicrous.

DAY 2 – SEMONKONG TO SEMONKONG VIA THE MALETSUNYANE FALLS

Distance: 28kms

Vertical Gain: 728m

Day 2 arrived. I had slept like I had been hit with a pole... And because of the late arrival of some of the field on Day 1, the briefing for Day 2 had been held over for the morning. This meant we had a later (07h00) start, which was welcome.

We set off again after breakfast and race briefing, along the banks of the Maletsunyane River. The clouds had descended, and it was threatening to rain today. Dayle and I had a new running partner in the form of one Lissa Parsons. It seemed the three of us had become a team, and we immediately fell into a comfortable routine of map reader, GPS Jockey and Arbitrator.

The team of three, caught early in the day cresting a hill, by Kelvin and his trusty camera.

We weren’t killing ourselves. The day was billed as the most beautiful or scenic in the race, and we took time to take pictures and drink in the views when they came.

Andrew amusing Kelvin by trying to take a decent picture with a point and shoot...

About 11km into the route, we must have fallen asleep for a few moments, because we lost the track. This simple error cost us valuable time, because in trying to short-cut back onto the correct track, we got ourselves into some pretty sticky areas, trying to descend on some lethal rocky slopes. These slopes were dropping away at a crazy angle, and were comprised of some crumbly granite. We ended up on our butts pretty often, sliding and scrambling down amongst the shrubs and cracks. This went on for what seemed an age, as we dropped 700m into the Maletsunyane River gorge for the crossing.

The crossing was amazing, picture post card perfect, in cool clear water. Owen was there to meet and greet. And then it was 700m up on the other side...

The seven hundred meter ascent out of the Maletsunyane River had the legs burning.

From the top of the gorge, we had amazing views back onto our route. We settled back into running again, keeping it relaxed, and soaking in the views along the ridge. “Kelvin the cameraman” had been a welcome accomplice during the morning, and he had us doing the usual hops, skips and jumps. He was always running off ahead with his rig, looking for the next killer shot... Today was a run to enjoy. The Maletsunyane Waterfall put on a show for us... It seemed absurd to race past these views, so we stopped every now and again, and drank it all in.

The weather looked threatening, but the rain held off for us, and we looked forward to getting back to base at a respectable time, having some well deserved lunch, and relaxing a bit before the dreaded return trip tomorrow. Dayle, Lissa and I crossed the line in 11^th place once again in just under five and a half hours. Lissa was maintaining her spot as the number two lady on the course.

We enjoyed the afternoon. Kicked back, got some proper food, and enjoyed a few more of those milk stouts! Dayle and I agreed that this was what makes a multi-day a holiday. We purposely kept our distance from the TV in the pub, as judging by the moans emanating from there, the semi-final between South Africa and New Zealand wasn’t going well. It felt like that game was taking place on another planet....

The medical staff were in demand today... Two days of running on wet feet were starting to take a grim toll. When your feet are wet for so long that they get like prunes, and they are in such demand in those hills, either running up, or trying to stop you going down, things start to go wrong. I had forgotten how important looking after your feet was....

Mary-Lyn, at the end of Day 1. The medics doing running repairs trying to keep her feet free from infection.

The same feet at the end of Day Three. Mary-Lyn displayed some real grit to finish on these...

DAY 3 – SEMONKONG TO RAMABANTA

Distance: 44kms

Vertical Gain: 1124m ascent 

Day Three arrived too soon. We packed in a bit of a scramble.... it was tough to be back to the 06h00 start. Everyone started slowly too. The first few hundred meters from the lodge is straight up a rocky drive, and there were no heroics here on tired legs.

The first 6km of the route were the same as the last of Day One... But once that was behind us, we veered off to the right, and dropped into the Makhoalipana valley. It was going to be another beautiful, clear day. The valleys were lush, criss-crossed with cool rivers and streams, reflecting an un-imaginable quality of light up the walls of the green hills all around us.

Within a few hours we arrived at the summit of the infamous ‘Baboon’s Pass’, at 2700m the highest point for the day, and of the event. We checked in at Check Point 1 in high spirits.

The Team at CP 1, Day Three.

From here on down we had been told, we would be running on the “Baboons Pass”, which was like a road. This would make a cushy change after all the technical single track we had battled with over the last few days...

But then, when on a WildRun, and especially in Lesotho, never assume anything. The Baboons Pass is not a road. Not as I understand it at least... Rather a narrow, winding path, strewn with rocks, from fist size, all the way through things the size on a VW Beatle.

The Baboons Pass... Not quite the cushy running surface we were longing for, but the end of the bundu-bashing.

But as they say in the classics, beggars can’t be choosers... We could see the hills surrounding Ramanbata and the lodge on the horizon now, and we were enjoying this run. There was less emphasis on the navigation, and we could spend more time on looking around, taking in the scenery. We felt relaxed and strong.

By the time we got to Check Point 2, we could smell the finish. We got our maps ticked, and were off. And from about 5km out, we could see the inflatable arch of the finish standing out against the green lawns of the lodge.

There is something special about the finish on a multi-day run... The finish of day one and two are nice... But in the back of your mind, you know it’s not really the finish. There is still more to do, things you have to hold a little in reserve for. But the finish on the last day is something special. And always seems to come as a surprise, something more than anticipated, or expected....

So once we could see the finish, impatience grew in us. We consulted the map one last time... screw it, we were just going direct now. Dayle set off in the lead, and we crashed down the side of a hill, through some fields and a little wood lot. Through a village, and over the crest of a hill. And then for the first time we saw one of the distinctive Wildrun banners, on the crest on a hill, right down the end of a finger of land, jutting way out into a long smooth bend in the river. We ran the crest of the ridge out to the banner, hills all around us, river either side. It was going to be one of those iconic Wildrun finishes... Like only Owen and Tam seem to know how to build. We could hear the guys at the finish, whistling and cheering. These sounds drifted out effortlessly through the still air, carried easily on the silence and solitude that abound in these hills. Kelvin was on the ridge too, his camera at his side, and we followed him down the side of the hill, to make our final river crossing of the event.

All Dayle’s efforts to keep his feet dry were to no avail...

With the end in sight, things slowed... We didn’t really want this to end anymore. We took our time. We had a water fight as we crossed the river. Took a brief swim for a last time in the crystal clear water to freshen up. We could have stayed there a lot longer, but the finish was calling, people were waiting, so we put the packs on one last time, and scrambled up the slopes of the hill, past small groups of cheering children from the village at the hotel, up the steps, and through the finish arch. Tamryn gave us one of her special welcomes, jumping up and down and cheering as only Tam can do. Hugs and kisses, medals on, and it was done.

Seven and a half hours today. Twenty two hours, thirty seven minutes and four seconds over the three days. I felt a lot fitter now that when I had started three days ago... ;)

Lunch. A few beers in the shade, swapping war stories. A massage for the legs, under a tree in the warm afternoon air, looking out over the ridges, as more of the field drifted in to hoots and applause...

An emotional final prize giving, dinner, and the usual legendary party... Everyone always seems to have a bit of spare energy left over for one of these...

Wildrun Lesotho was a surprise package. It delivered everything and more in terms of the stunning scenery we were expecting. And a whole bunch more in terms of challenges. But there was something else, some intangible spiritual thing that has left me feeling on a high for the last few days. And I think that comes down to a few special things:

1. The peace and serenity was not just in the physical beauty of the land, but it was amongst the people that inhabit it too. Never in all my years in Africa have I seen a group of people living so close, and so in tune with nature. There can only be a hundred or so of these villagers left, but the symbiotic way they live amongst nature, and the respect and love which they show their animals, was something that left me feeling pretty humbled.

2. The privilege of running with such a small group of people, all of whom seemed to be enjoying the adventure as much as each other enjoy the privilege of running in pristine environment, that without an event like this, you could never hope to traverse. No whining, even from those dealing with some pretty nasty physical pain or injuries.

3. The joy of seeing Owen and Tamryn doing what they seem to truly love so much: Setting up crazy runs in the wildest places, and seeing it all come together, people having experiences and making friends that they will remember for the rest of their lives...

So a number of people have asked me, “how was your run?” I think a bit, and smile. “Amazing” is my standard response....

“Would you do it again?”

Yes! And No.

Yes! because it would be good to go back, knowing what I had let myself in for. Being properly prepared, and giving it a good klaap this time...

No, because if I am really lucky, Owen and Tam will have thought up another amazing race in some other special corner of this continent that I am yet to visit, and I can re-indulge my love of taking on another inaugural event... So many races, so little time....

See the full gallery on Posterous

Posted via email from andrewrunswild's posterous

Umngazi Holiday Runs, August 2010

Just had the good fortune of spending a week down on the Wild Coast. Managed to get a run in most evenings, alternating between some nice long flat runs along the beach, and some proper technical trail runs along hiking trails and goat tracks in the hills around Umngazi River Bungalows where we were staying. Good preparation for Mont Aux Sources, coming up in a week’s time.

These runs were so refreshing, after grinding out so many “junk kilometres” on the road. Running in complete solitude along ridges and cliffs above the sea, the landscape studded with aloes that keep silent guard over the sea 200 meters below. I would stop occasionally, take in gulps of fresh air, and just enjoy the silence. All you can hear is the breeze, and the waves crashing on the rocks below.... The grass is dry, with all the seed heads soft and feathery. Very pretty in the fading light, but makes it a bugger to see the paths you are running on.

One evening I decided to just run out on the beach, ignore the hills for a change. I went as light as possible, and took the Vibram KSO’s for a spin. It’s so amazing to be able to run through the water without a care, over rocks, and back onto the sand... I read somewhere how these shoes make you “feel more in touch with the earth”... I thought that was a load of marketing crap. But now I completely get it. The atmosphere was amazing. It was an unusually still evening, and about 5km out, I came upon a massive bush fire in the hills alongside the beach. It was eyrie to run on, through the smoke, with the fire on one side, and the sea on the other.... For some strange reason, the smell of an African bush fire, mingled with sea air made the hair stand up on the back of the neck, but made the experience all the better. Seemed crazy to run on with “danger” on the left and right... I stopped at the turn around point, took a swim in the sea, and ran back in the dark. Probably one of the best runs of my life....

This is why I run.... For those of you off on the Wild Run again next week, just enjoy. If the weather holds out like this, you are in for something special.

See and download the full gallery on posterous

Posted via email from andrewrunswild's posterous

And they say we are still in the middle of a depression....

Coming back after a long lazy lunch in the Magaliesburg on Sunday, (Creation 2008 Pinot Noir was amazing), I saw a helicopter hovering over the runway at Lanseria Airport. It struck me as an odd place for a helicopter to hover....Especially when I saw a private jet landing at the same time.

And then I saw these pictures....

This is Lanseria Airport, (regional airport just outside Johannesburg), playing host to the rich and famous of the world, jetting in to see the World Cup Final at Soccer City that evening. At least these guys were better organised than they were at King Shaka Airport in Durban for the semi-finals.

These guys started jetting out from 03h00 Sunday morning, so they could be back on whatever yacht they came from Monday morning... Kept me awake for a few hours. Felt like I was living in Hounslow on the flight path out of Heathrow.

Shame hey? Feel bad for the guys having to park their shiny aeroplanes on the grass like that... No wonder Sepp Blatter only gave us 9 / 10 for hosting the World Cup 2010.

Posted via email from Reflections of a white African

The greatest religious questions that still go unanswered...

In her radio show, Dr Laura Schlesinger said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22, and cannot be condoned under any circumstance.

The following response is an open letter to Dr. Laura, penned by a US resident, which was posted on the Internet. It's amusing as well as informative:

Dear Dr. Laura:

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination ... End of debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God's Laws and how to follow them.

1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighbouring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of Menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offence.

4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odour for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbours. They claim the odour is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

5. I have a neighbour who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?

6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination, Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there 'degrees' of abomination?

7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle-room here?

8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?

9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev.19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep
with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy considerable expertise in such matters, so I'm confident you can help.

Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.

Your adoring fan.

James M. Kauffman,
Ed.D. Professor Emeritus,
Dept. Of Curriculum, Instruction, and Special Education
University of Virginia

(It would be a damn shame if we couldn't own a Canadian :)

Posted via email from Reflections of a white African

Day 1 - AfricanX

What a day. Weather came right for a beautiful afternoon. Course was beautiful too. I have missed my trail running... Dayle and I have been properly spoilt by New Balance. Loads of new kit! Back to the guest house now for shower and massage.:) I could get used to being a sponsored runner!

Posted via email from andrewrunswild's posterous

Midnight Hell Run: 27 - 28 February, 2010

So here is a quick race report from my crazy weekend race... I have been criticised in the past for writing too much, so I am going to attempt to condense this into something less. Besides, I fell asleep trying to write this Monday night...

What I attempted this last weekend is a special event in the Western Cape called The Midnight Hell Run. It’s a trail run, at night, out of a place affectionately known as “Die Hel” (The Hell). You have the three choices of distance, 38km, 50km, and 80km.

Die Hel is very conceivably the most remote and undeveloped valley in this country. It’s a 50km long valley, surrounded on all sides by the Swartberg Mountains. The first road went in there only in 1963. The first power line in 1998.... There are still only 3 dwellings in the valley with electricity. So last year when I found this race on some obscure internet site, it sounded like a great idea...

But I said this was going to be short. So if you don’t have time to read the whole thing, the best way to describe my weekend was to ask you to do the following:

Setup the PVR. Record a couple of episodes of Survivor, and a few of the Amazing Race. Then play them back simultaneously on separate TV’s watching both at once, whilst running on a treadmill in a dark room for the weekend. Let me explain why I say this...

I left home in Fourways at 07h00 Saturday morning. I was collected by Dr. Andre Lombard, an amazing friend I met first on the Cape Odyssey in 2008. He is accompanied by his wife Joan, and a friend Amanda. We drive to OR Tambo, and put the car in the parking. Check in, and fly to George. Collect our bags, sort out a hire car (4 x 4 the best option given where we are off to). We then set off at pace en-route to Prince Albert, (230km / 3hours according to Garmin). Drive like hell, past Oudsthoorn, and over the Swartberg Pass. Stop at the top and have “Padkos” on the side of the road.

LUNCH, SWARTBERG PASS STYLE... Eating on the run, before a run. The stuff that looks like cat food in the Tupperware box on the left is a packet of tuna, mixed in with some lentils. The lamb chop (or what is left of it) was Andre’s left over’s from dinner Friday night. Amanda provided peanut butter and honey sandwiches. As we didn’t have a plate, (and only 1 plastic spoon to share), we found that the best way to eat this was to scoop up some of the cat food on a quarter of the sandwich. Tasted like a million bucks, and the amazing views finished it all off so well.

This was all chased down with the dregs of Andre’s 5 year old KWV brandy....His hipflask was broken in his bag by some rough baggage handling, so there was not much left. This left his running kit with a tremendously fragrant aroma, and I had to settle myself to the concept of running 80km with a running mate that smelt like a “Bergie”... J

The Lunch Spot: This was the scene of the crime at lunch. The path off and down to the left is essentially the start of the last 30km of the 80km route. You drop off through those pretty looking gullies, and down into Prince Albert in the valley on the horizon....

Back in the car, and down the other side of the pass. Arrive in Prince Albert at registration at 15h00.

THE LAP OF LUXURY: Andre trying out the designer bedding. The race registration is held in a proper “koshuis” boarding school block, so after wandering around a bit, we found an empty room and start sorting our stuff out, deciding on what to wear, and what to carry in our bags. Nothing luxurious, but at this stage we didn’t care.

SUPERMAN BARS: Andre shares some of his world famous “Superman cakes” with me, that he has made with his own fair hands.

The recipe is a family secret, but includes a blend of performance boosting cereal powders, smashed up Christmas cake, coconut oil, Ouma’s homemade apricot jam, (and yes, this is the Ouma that is in her eighties, and did the parachute jump with the rest of the family when they did their holiday together in December)! And of course, some additional 5 year old KWV!

Enough calories to power a small space shuttle into orbit.

All this, wrapped up in little grease proof paper parcels...

We were downstairs for race briefing and dinner in the “koshuis” at 17h00. This is when the race organiser breaks the good news that everyone is going to have to get themselves to the start. Now the start is 80km away, in the most remote valley left in SA, down some serious dirt roads. So we are advised to talk amongst ourselves, and make a plan. And do it quickly, because we need to leave in 10 mins, or we will miss the start. We have a hired Nissan X Trail, but as all four of us our running, we need a driver who will bring it back out for us. We can’t find one of these, so we give up, and start looking for others we can get a lift with.

We eat what is presented as dinner. I christen it “Trans Fatty Acid Lasagne”. Oily meat lasagne, with tomato floating in added oil. All bound together with lashings of oily cheese.... I slop some on a plate, along with a dry bun and some apricot jam. I run around with my plate of “Take away heart attack”, trying to find a lift amongst the chaos, whilst wolfing down the food. We manage to find a few spaces in different vehicles. Next, rush upstairs to change into race kit, throw the bags into the cars, and off we go for what we are told is another three hour drive into Die Hel....

The ride into “Die Hel” in the back of a pickup truck is less than magical. The journey itself is deserving of a complete race report. But let’s just say that 3 hours later, I arrive at the start of the race, feeling less than it tip top form. It’s now 20h45, 15 mins before the start of an 80km trail run. I have been travelling for about 12 hours today. The Trans Fatty Acid lasagne, and the three hour trip on rough, wiggly dirt mountain passes leaves me feeling more than a little nauseous. Just to top it off, there is no water available to fill up my hydration pack. I beg and steal about 500ml from a two litre coke bottle that is making the rounds.

The race starts at 21h00. The full moon is absolutely stunning, and once we are running, everything gets better. My nerves start to settle, and it’s an amazing scene when you look ahead or behind: just headlamps bobbing or floating along invisible trails, in an amazing silence.

At 12km, the real climbing starts in earnest though. The Elands Pass is not something I will forget in a hurry. Let’s see if you can spot it for yourself in the route profile below:

Here is a picture of the pass taken in daylight, from about halfway up:

This is 600m of climb, over 6km. For context, Constantia Nek at Oceans is about 200m in 4km. But half way up, the nausea is overwhelming me. I try a few dry retches, to no avail. I think the combination of the Trans Fatty Acid Lasagne, and the 3 hour commute down the mountain is finally taking its toll. If I can just hang on until the first water point at 14km though...

There is no water at 14km. I watch the last dregs of water being poured into hydration bags as I run up to the lone 20 litre drum that was left by the organisers. Do the maths: If there are about 100 guys doing the three different runs, all carrying hydration bags, 20 litres is never going to cut it... But hey, I did enter something called The Midnight Hell Run didn’t I, and I am sure I will get at 24km...

No. Not there either. That is also finished. I am offered water by other kind and caring souls I meet along the way, but don’t feel good about pinching water from them, with no other known source before the 50km mark. Fortunately I eventually find a discarded bottle on the side of the road at about 39km, and get enough out of that to top me up until 50km. Fortunately too, Andre runs ahead, and then comes back to find me with an anti-nausea tablet he has found Amanda has in her bag. There are virtues to running with a Doc, and a lady that has a bag that looks like she just robbed a small pharmacy! This pill kicks in at about 40km, and I start feeling stronger. I still can’t face the taste of anything except water though, so at about 03h00 on Sunday morning, Andre and I make a collective call that we are scribbling the 80km idea, and will finish at 50km.

With the pressure off, and with the amazing feeling of water joggling in my belly, I start to relax and take in the magic of this valley at night. The moon seems massive, and so bright without the smog to contend with. We run most of the night with our headlamps off. There is no need for them. At about 04h00 in the morning, I see Scorpio rise in the east. With the context of the mountains, the scale of this galaxy is truly apparent. This really is a special experience.

Now they tell you...: We found this sign at about 04h00 in the morning, 2km from the end of the 50km....

We run into the race hut at 50km at 04h20 in the morning, (07h20 run time). 2500m vertical ascent under the belt, which is more than the 89km of Comrades, and only slightly less than Monty gives you. A good bit of time on the legs anyway, which is what we all need right now. We wolf down a few of the pancakes we were promised. The hot chocolate we were also promised is absent, but a mug of tea hits the spot though, and we lie about, swapping stories and laughing, as we watch as the sky starts to turn pink in the East...

But if you think that is the end of the Amazing Race / Survivor challenge, think again. Just like there isn’t transport to the start of the race, there isn’t transport back to the registration spot where you car and kit now wait for you. So we have to hike the 18km back to the village. We get lucky though, and Joan and Amanda use their charm to full effect, and we get a lift all the way to the door. We arrive back at 06h05, and head straight for the showers. We are sitting on the benches outside, enjoying a cup of tea and the sunrise at 06h30 when the winner of the 80km race comes in. It’s Linda Doke, at 09h30 for 80km. Second place is another lady, Jo McKenzie, in about 10 hours. We have heard that of the 27 of us that signed up for the 80, only 8 have gone through from the 50km mark though, so after seeing what passes for breakfast at the “koshuis” we pack up and head off in search of something better to eat. We visit the village dairy at the end of the street, and buy fresh yoghurt and cheese; We then find a coffee shop in a perfect location at the entrance to town, where we drink a cappuccino and eat some more, whilst we wait for more runners to come through.

It’s about 10h00 when we are getting ready to depart on the next leg of The Amazing Race, when we see a few more runners start to come through. And as we leave the village on our drive back, we pass another. I start to feel pretty good about pulling out at 50km, by Joan is gutted. But we have to get back to George, for the flight home. So we drive back over that amazing pass once more. Andre does an amazing job of staying awake at the wheel on the drive home....

Everywhere we stop, we eat and drink something We stop for an ostrich burger at a pub in Outshoorn, visit the beach briefly just outside George, just like proper Gauteng’ers, so we can say we have been in the sea.. So it’s a giant ice cream cone at the beach. And milk stout in the departure lounge at the airport. (Andre told me it was a good idea, and he is a Doctor, so who am I to argue)? When I start to think of everything I ate or drank on Sunday, I start to go green all over again...

Involuntary sleep comes on the plane on the way home. None of us could help ourselves by now.

Back to OR Tambo, we collect the luggage, and the car. We narrowly dodge getting stuck in traffic on the highway on the way home. Come on guys, it’s seven PM Sunday night! JRA just making sure you are really aware you are back home in happy Gauteng. So I get home just after 20h00 Sunday night, with 37 hours of adventure under the belt. Something more to eat, regale a few stories to the family, have a shower, and collapse. The kiss of that cool cotton pillow case was playing on my mind a lot on Saturday night, and it feels so good now.

So I popped down to Time Trial on Tuesday night to test the legs out, and was asked by a number of people, “would I do it again?” I will answer with another TV line: Don’t try this one at home children...

I would definitely do it again, but only if I sorted out all my own logistics and seconding.

So if you are one of those unlucky souls who didn’t get a place in this year’s Hell Run for any reason, there is still hope. Try this instead:

· Drive down to Comrades the day of the race. That way the roads should be nice and quiet.

· Get to Durban, and visit the registration to see them packing it up.

· Then drive up to Pietermaritzburg through the Valley of a Thousand Hills on all the roughest dirt roads you can find.

· Arrive in PBM just before 21h00, and start the run. Make sure to follow the same route, but run on the stones on the road reserve all the way.

· By this stage, all the water tables will be gone, and there will be no crowd support either, so it will be a good comparison.

· When you eventually get down to the stadium at dawn, it will be empty too, just like the finish was for Linda. Just three of us sitting clapping with our cups of tea...

· Have a shower, and a coffee, and then jump in the car and drive home.

There you are. You just did something like the Hell Run!

Doc Lombard, at a road stop somewhere on the way to the middle of nowhere. Nothing happened there in 1890. Sometimes this weekend I thought there was nothing much happening in our heads either....

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Midnight Hell Run, 27 - 28 February 2010

Midnight Hell Run, 27 – 28 February, 2010

But I said this was going to be short. So if you don’t have time to read the whole thing, the best way to describe my weekend was to ask you to do the following:

Back in the car, and down the other side of the pass. Arrive in Prince Albert at registration at 15h00.

SUPERMAN BARS: Andre shares some of his world famous “Superman cakes” with me, that he has made with his own fair hands.

Enough calories to power a small space shuttle into orbit.

All this, wrapped up in little grease proof paper parcels...

At 12km, the real climbing starts in earnest though. The Elands Pass is not something I will forget in a hurry. Let’s see if you can spot it for yourself in the route profile below:

Here is a picture of the pass taken in daylight, from about halfway up: