X.2016_1 Expedition Africa 2016

Race report:  Expedition Africa, May 2016

Location: Knysna/Plettenburg, RSA

Team: Bloed en OMO

Members:       

           

Daryl GI Joe Wittstock

Nico Private Ryan Labuschagne

Jan Sad Sack Bezuidenhout

Abel Unkown Soldier van der Merwe

Christine GI Jane Green  (media)

I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat. (WSC: Winston Spencer Churchill  1940)

But first, some generalities:

Yet again Stephan and Heidi have presented a well planned and executed Expedition Africa.  They will be hard pressed to equal, let alone surpass, the stunning beauty of this location. May their enthusiasm and willingness to sacrifice themselves to this sport continue for many years to come.

Bloed en OMO reached their goal which was to cross the finish line as a full team and with minimal damage. To achieve this goal, given our geriatric demeanour, we adopted a strategy of selectively bypassing CPs or “equalising early and often” as the scuba divers say.

A strategy that was accelerated when we realised that the Via Ferrata abseil at CP39 was a not-to-be-missed experience.  Although  rather embarrassing to admit that we only covered some 400 km of the route it nevertheless put Bloed en OMO amongst the 60 odd persent of the teams that were lucky enough to do the abseil.

This race had us shunting backwards and forwards (East and West) between Sedgefield and Plettenburg and up and down (North and South) between the coast and the Outeniqua mountains. And reposing right across it like a slumbering python in a game of snakes and ladders was the N2 highway – a forbidden road.  A significant challenge for those, like us, that are forced into unconventional route choices. 

We learnt two technological lessons. A wireless Cateye does not work in the presence of radiation from the switching supplies of certain LED cycle lights. And, the pivot point of the ordinary hiker’s type compass breaks down if it is attached to the map holder on the bike’s handlebar (this is the third compass that packed up since I started doing this).

Nevertheless we at no time felt motherless-in-the-mall lost although there were a few occasions when we struggled to find the escalator between floors. 

Pre-Expedition:

It is an old adage that the hardest part of an AR is getting to the start line. This time we had the added problem that our girl, GI Jane was stuck in the UK without a visa (it was mistakenly posted to some remote location in rural Scotland).

Three days before departure with no more extension of the deadline   I had a rare stroke of genius I phoned my nephew Daryl (GI Joe) who was oblivious to the all the implications of what he was letting himself be talked into, having never done anything even remotely like this. He has only recently swapped enduro biking for mountain biking.

“How much easier it is to join bad companions than to shake them off!” (WSC: 1943)

Scarcely a day before the race GI Jane’s visa pitches up. Without hesitation she flies out to be our media person and arrives at George airport just before the opening ceremony.

“Almost the chief mystery of life is what makes one do things.” (WSC: 1931)

The Expedition

“Come then: let us to the task, to the battle, to the toil – each to our part, each to our station.”  (WSC: 1940)

Legs 1, 2 and 3: 10km kayak in the Knysna Lake area

“… we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. … we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength…. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields, in the streets, we shall fight in the hills: we shall never surrender..” (WSC: 1940)

Tra-la-la  legs, although Team Bloed en OMO had clearly not yet mastered the act of paddling in a straight line. This was probably due to our weights exceeding the specs of the kayaks by some 30 kg resulting in the prow almost submerging and our backsides being permanently water-logged. Leaches and barnacles attaching themselves was an ever present threat.

Leg 4: 13 km trek along beach past Brenton-on-Sea to T2 at Buffelsbaai.

A scenic outing with GI Jane, this had some tricky scrambling over rocky outcrops since – as usual – we were late and it was high tide.

Leg 5:  7 km sea kayak (12 km trek in our case) plus 10 km river kayak up Gouskamma to T3 at Blackwaters River Lodge.

We are arrived T2 just in time for the race director’s decision that the sea kayak was cancelled on account of dangerous conditions at CP9. We put on a show of heavy disappointment and took a hike to the river paddle start.

It is the hour, not for despair, but for courage and rebuilding; and that is the spirit which should rule our minds. (WSC: 1938)

The paddle, though beautiful, was uneventful.

Leg 6: 30 km cycle to T4 at Beervlei

After a slow transition (hamburgers included) Bloed en OMO eventually took off on Leg 6.

One of the characteristics  of this EA were the many downhills we experienced on the cycle legs.  But, as everyone knows, all downhills are paid for with uphills. The race stats say that the total elevation gain – hikes included - was 14 000 m although B en .;O probably only did a mere 10 000.

The first serious elevation gain, several km in extent, was thrown at us directly out of T4. This was followed by many kilos of flatland passing between Ruigtevlei and Groenvlei in what must have been an ancient lake or a river delta.

But - there is always a “but” - the flat was characterised by a never ending succession of drifts of deep and fine sand  that had Unknown Soldier and Private Ryan sprawling time after time. Miraculously we get through without any biological or mechanical damage. Even the psychological damage is minor and quickly dims when we face the Hoogekraal hills.

(I have on occasion wandered what would happen if I were to go for psycho-therapy and all manner of self-inflicted trauma is dredged out under hypnosis. Would Herr Professors Freud and Jung add another chapter to their handbooks?)

We hit T4 in good spirits. We have finished 6 of the 18 legs and there are still several hours left of the first day. How easy could this be?

Sad Sack supervises the teams re-provisioning from Box B.

“When you are leaving for an unknown destination it is a good plan to attach a restaurant car to the train” (WSC: 1922)

Meanwhile, Unknown Soldier tries to make sense of the next issue of map before making known his grand strategy.

Only one link in the chain of destiny can be handled at a time. (WSC: 1945)

The team agrees that Bloed en OMO will forfeit CPs 12 and 13 and head straight for CP14 at Platbos reducing the total distance for this leg by 8 or 9 km and avoiding, what we expected to be difficult terrain.

“Withhold no sacrifice, grudge no toil, seek no sordid gain, fear no foe. All will be well” (WSC: 1965)

It is only later that we realise that the latter was not such a big saving after all as the Outeniqua trail is easy going – almost a highway compared to most others that invariably require clambering and tricky river fording.

Leg 7:  58 km (approx 49 km for us) hike along Outiniqua trail to T5 at Gouna

Our route  choice requires us to leave T4 in exactly the opposite direction to everyone else. The poor marshal – obviously under strict orders not to assist any teams – puts out a stage cough. When we don’t respond she gives a louder one and then eventually says “ are your sure you are leaving”. I realise what she’s getting at and set her mind at ease.

Well after midnight we decide its time for some sleep. GI Joe sleeps in the open veld for the first time. As he tells his wife later, he tries to avoid mice and other vermin by aiming to sleep in the middle of the pack – but the ou manne redeploy in other – apparently softer looking - ditches at the last moment. He also complains that the ou manne fall asleep immediately which does not give him opportunity to fall asleep first to avoid facing the snoring.  So he spends the night listening to the dew dripping off the trees onto him.

“Colonel Byng and I shared a blanket. When he turned over I was in the cold. When I turned over I pulled the blanket off him and he objected. He was the Colonel. It was not a good arrangement. I was glad when morning came. (WSC: 1930)

The next morning there’s a nip in the air as we stride, steam coming out our collars, up a steep incline to CP14 at Platbos hut – which we struggle to find.

When we do find it . we catch up with some of  the stronger, more youthful  teams who eye the old men, with suspicion. BenO are clearly super fit – or were the squeeze tubes of baby food a secret weapon?

I get my exercise serving as pall-bearer to my many friends who exercised all their lives. (WSC: 1950s)

We let rip on a spectacular hike.  Throughout the day we are passed by other teams as a limping (plantar fasciitus injury going back some months) Unknown Soldier  holds up the others.

We come across several mounds of elephant dung but no elephant. We do, however, see the elusive Knysna Loerie.

We arrive at T5 after dark. Unknown Soldier  prepares a hot meal (a mixture of .five different canned foods) whilst the others set up the bikes for the next leg.  

GI Joe experiences another first – voluntary consumption of peas.

“Enough is as good as a feast.” (WSC: 1918)

Later in the race he even consumes fish – something he doesn’t even allow in his house because of its odour.  One more race and he will be fully house-trained.

Leg 8:  84 km cycle to T6 near the coast

We leave T5 at 2 am after not getting much sleep on account of other teams using the sleeping area to sort out kit and other domestics.

At one stage GI Joe remarks “I can’t believe you guys are travelling at 12 kph on a level road”.  The ou manne look at him and say nothing. He is young and will learn with time.

The leg starts well and at CP18, which is clearly placed there by Stephan to ensure that teams take the Petrus Brand pad south and not the right hand Veldmanspad to ensure that the N2 can be legally crossed at Garden of Eden, we take extra effort to make the right choice.

“Fancy mistaking a hippopotamus – almost the largest surviving mammal in the world – for a water lily. Yet nothing is more easy.” (WSC: 1908)

We head south for the sea. However, my erratic compass as well as my internal compass says something’s wrong. But, its downhill, we are moving fast and the road is good, so its lekker.  Besides going back to CP18 is not considered an option even when we fail find CP19 and again prefer to ignore the facts.

…. It is always very difficult to know, when you embark on the path of wrongdoing, exactly when to stop (WSC: 1911)

Just before  dawn breaks we hit the N2. My heart breaks too as it becomes clear we are definitely not where we think we ought be. So we do the obvious. We continue with denial.

But a bread delivery truck driver we chat to at a Spaza shop wins the argument about where Bloed en OMO actually are. The python has us firmly in his maws.

“The truth is incontrovertible. Panic may resent it, ignorance may deride it, malice may distort it, but there it is.” (WSC: 1916)

Sticking to Stephan’s directive – if not to the letter then at least in spirit – we battle through undergrowth and ditches  to avoid cycling directly on the N2 before we manage to escape into the forest along a bewildering array of roads (the truck driver warned us to avoid the forest at all costs).

 All this is done without a reliable compass - and going-senile navigator. So struggle to find the escalator: 

“It is a crime to despair. We must learn to draw from misfortune the means of future strength” (WSC: 1938)

“Imagination without deep and full knowledge is a snare.” (WSC: 1950)

We meet up with a woodcutter’s wife and once again a long discussion ensues about where we are. Of course Bloed en OMO lose the argument.

“Some people will deny anything, but there are some denials that do not alter the facts.” (WSC: 1910)

In all we waste three hours getting back to onto the official route.

After C20 we decide to head straight for T5, skipping CP21 to ensure that we remain on schedule for the canyon.

The alternative route takes us along some steep and downhills on a badly weathered road.  At times we hit over 50 km/h.  At some point Private Ryan manages to put his bike into a pebble spraying broadside.

Just before wiping out he manages to right himself. At the bottom he stops and begins to shake like a lab skeleton during an earth tremor.  Sad Sack grips him around the shoulders but his legs and bike continue to rattle.

He claims he saw his life flashing before his eyes and he was not impressed at all.

Minutes later the road is fenced off and we don’t know what to do now. Then we spot some forest rangers who tell us the only options is to go all the way back and take a route passing CP20 and CP21.

Although Bloed en OMO may lack athleticism we do not lack initiative. We spot some local cyclists out on a morning ride and catch them. They lead us around the barrier and all the way down to CP22 whereafter finding T6 is a breeze.

Its all smiles when we get to Cairnbrogie farm and a friendly reception from GI Jane and the marshals. 

  

We learn that GI Jane has been teaching Kate, the American team Gung Ho’s media girl some Afrikaans and who can now with confidence order “twee Springbokkies asseblief” at the Pine Lakes bar (For the foreigners: A Springbokkie is a very pleasant and innocent tasting shooter with a bit of a sting).

Mormon visitor when offered a whisky and soda: May I have water, Sir Winston. Lions drink it.

WSC: Asses drink it too.

Second mormon: Strong drink rageth and stingeth like a serpent.

WSC: I have long been looking for a drink like that (1950s)

Leg 9: 35 km coastal trek to  T7 at Keurboons caravan park (T7) east of Plettenburg

Again, to ensure meeting the cut off at T7 we skip several CPs but decide we must see CP 29 (cave under house). CP28 is en route. (Note: After this leg we purposely only miss two more CPs and the wet part of the canyon  – and of coarse the final sections that were officially removed).

However when we get to Vygekraal turn off we are blocked by a high electric gate and sign announcing a Hotel and Spa. Sad Sack manages to rouse someone on the intercom who opens the gate.

As we walk down to the sea the troops fantasise about massages in fluffy white towels and lying in the sauna. Visions of pretty girls balancing warm rocks on their backs has them salivating and they only come out of their reverie when threatened with a long stick.

Soon after we cruise through Plettenburg, organising some Kentucky “Street Wises” on the way. Just when we find a small park to lie down for the feast GI Jane pitches up. Embarrassed we hide the loot in the rubbish bins. Which is where the now infamous photos of Bloed en OMO digging in bins are taken.

Replenished, there remains only the small matter of swimming the ice cold Keurbooms river to get to T7.

We have a lengthy transition at Keurbooms. Partly because we are confused by being confronted with two boxes and partly we are just confused anyway.

GI Joe uses the delay to take a shower and wash his clothes. He informs us that he is civilised man who, until he made our acquaintance. showered thrice daily – each time with a fresh towel. Oy vey.

Leg 10:  16 km kayak up the Keurboom river to T8

“Are there not other alternatives than sending our armies to chew barbed wire in Flanders?”  (WSC: 1941)

Little did we expect this to be the long to be remembered – even more so than the Via Ferrata – high point of EA2016.

Admittedly Heidi’s statement that she had tripped this leg in her bikini did contribute to a certain nonchalant attitude in the team.

We leave T7 well after sunset and immediately realise that the delay was a mistake as we hit several submerged sandbanks in the darkness before passing under the N2 bridge and head upstream against an ice cold headwind that makes our lives a misery.

The going is made easier by an almost full moon trapped between the deep V of the river valley. With apologies to our American friends, this must be similar to the Grand Canyon, except that I am sure these sides are steeper.

We paddle hard so that we can reach our destination in the limited hours before the moon slips behind the mountains.

A couple of hours later when I estimate there’s only a few  km to go we are blocked by  a barrier of loose stones. We fuss around for a while looking for a channel. Eventually we concede that we must portage. A task made all the more difficult by loose stones and boulders.

Then there is another barrier and another.    It is then that we take rumours at T7 of a 5 km portage seriously.

The river has clearly taken a turn for the worse since Heidi last saw it.

Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that ……. Men will still say “This was their finest hour”. (WSC: 1940)

Private Ryan and GI Joe show their true form and drag the boats without respite whilst the two old men follow with the paddles.

The river flow has dwindled and the open stretches are generally only forty or fifty meters in extent. The worst is a tree blockage that requires the canoes to be lifted more than a meter without a sure footing.

We must go on like the gun-horses, till we drop. (WSC: 1940s)

Very early in the saga I climb out the canoe to drag it over a small water drop not realising it is not up against the rocks but against a submerged log and sink up to my neck in the gap between the log and the rocks.

Hypothermia becomes a real threat but luckily the next couple of hours are passed working hard.  

At one stage GI Joe  complains about a house on the river bank that has suddenly disappeared. Just when I worry that he is hallucinating I realise that he must have seen the glow sticks on one of the other teams.

 (Later GI Jane tells us that the girl in one of the other teams at one point refused to row any further because there was “a moose with spiders legs” blocking the way”).

Well after midnight we clamber over a large weir and decide to overnight at the first dry sandbank we find. The canoes are dragged up a  small beach and somehow we get a driftwood fire going.

All of us must have thought about the possibility, and enormous implications, of torn ligaments as we stumbled over the rocks. The bed time conversation turns to the implications of one of us kicking the bucket.

My sole companion was a gigantic vulture, who manifested an extravagant interest in my condition, and made hideous and ominous gurglings from time to time (WSC: 1899)

We agree that dragging the body out of here is out of the question. We can hardly even manage the canoes. In fact, even just hauling out someone’s boude en blaaie  - a hunter’s term for only carrying the hind and fore quarters out when an antelope is shot in an inaccessible spot -  is not an option.

So we decide that each one can select a body part that should be salvaged – in the “unlikely event” that is -  for a symbolic funeral. Sad Sack says he chooses his feet. We joke that that is a good idea as we could use them as emergency spares. It is only two days later that we understood why his feet were so important.

We notice lights flickering on the mountainside not too far up river. T7 is obviously close and would have been a better spot to take a rest. But we decide we are too wet and miserable to re-enter the river.

Leg 11:  45 km trek plus canyoneering to Keurbooms caravan park (T9)

Before daybreak we paddle to T7 and meet up with several other teams.

From here on the race is – metaphorically speaking – all downhill.

Except, soon thereafter, we are all looking for ways to cross the accumulated drifts of wattles and other flotsam  blocking the dense undergrowth up a steep hill to CP34.  A section reputed to have taken some of the top teams three hours.

Then what appears to be faint and hardly used bush pig tunnel is spotted.

“Dogs look up to you, cats look down on you. Give me a pig! He looks you in the eye and treats you as an equal.” (WSC)

Looking this pig in the eye often requires being on hands and knees. But progressively the path becomes more definite and requires less crawling and bush whacking. Half an hour later we crest the “mountain” and easily locate the CP.

Sometimes when [Fortune] scowls most spitefully, she is preparing her most dazzling gifts. (WSC: 1931)

From here on the navigation is easy although there is always the nagging fear that we could be on the wrong road completely and are talking ourselves into matching what we observe with a another section of the map. It is comforting to be overtaken by several other teams.

We have a lot of anxieties, and one cancels out another very often. (WSC: 1943)

We travel on well maintained roads or well established tracks. Partly because of all the altitude gain and loss (1 400 m) – but mostly because all three old men are now slow, nursing old foot injuries - it takes until almost five o’clock to arrive at the start of the canyoneering – a mere 25 km.  On the other hand:

I do not want to have too close an itinerary. One must have time to feel a country and nibble some of the grass (WSC: 1929 – on his American journey)

A cold front has moved in by the time we reach the canyon entrance. There is a long queue and we foresee misery in the wetness so, in what later transpires to be a fruitless exercise, we simply collect CP36 and C37 and head overland to the not to be missed Via Ferrata and abseil where we have a joyful reunion with GI Jane .

She joins us on the Via Ferrata, which is everything it promised to be. We arrive well before sunset but we wait until seven for our turn so I cannot see how high it is and am able to trust the ropes 100%.

             “What a slender thread the greatest of things hang by.” (WSC: 1940)

We climb back out and for head south for the rendezvous on the beach.  Then we realise that avoiding the N2 requires heading through a township - if we can skirt some clay diggings and find a gap in the security fence first.

 “… live dangerously: take all things as they come; dread naught, all will be well.” (WSC: 1932)

Moments later we are surrounded by half a dozen other teams, most of them foreigners, who have  been instructed to miss the rest of the canyon and are obviously concerned (given all the negative publicity on SABC)  about going through a  “township”.

So we invite them along for a bit tourism. At one stage we frighten the daylights out a small kid who howls and strains to break out of his mothers grip. Who wouldn’t be scared by a large group of mean looking okes wearing headlamps?  Luckily she holds on as had he broken loose he would surely have wiped out a fence or wall. While we stop at a spaza shop  for the odd coke I explain the to visitors: see they are more scared of you then you of them.

By the time we get to the sea it is once again well into the early hours of the morning. It is high tide and there is a succession of rocky outcrops that have to be climbed. The lower path is always easier but also within reach of the odd peak wave.

…. In life’s steeplechase one must always jump the fences as they come. (WSC: 1930)

But eventually we are stymied by an apparently insurmountable rocky outcrop that requires some serious horsepower and commitment to climb.

We decide to take a sleep break and find a spot just above the high water level of the lagoon. It seems like only moments later that dawn breaks and the team starts to stir.

“There is no more delicious moment in the day than this, when we light the fire, and while the kettle boils, watch the dark shadows of the hills take form, perspective and finally colour, knowing that there is another whole day begun, bright with chance and interest, and free from all cares. “WSC 1900s)

But there is no fire or kettle. Ag shame.

Sad Sack’s feet, like mine, are swollen and aching, and as he hobbles around packing his kit, he tells us that he missed his entire standard four (grade 6) year on account of a series of foot operations to remove “poison” in his bones (at least that’s what he remembers) and that his mother had to teach him to walk again.

GI Joe, who  still lying in bed, looks at him with an air of someone wearing silk pyjamas and dressing gown,  and says: “Seriously man. You had a whole year to think about it and that’s the style you chose?”

Laugh a little, and teach your men to laugh – a great good is humour under fire – war is a game played with a smile. If you can’t smile, grin. If you can’t grin, keep out of the way till you can. (WSC: 1916)

We cross the last the last barrier easily in the daylight (and low tide). I slip on the rocks and I break my fall by landing with my hand on a barnacle covered boulder. There is a mesh of cuts. Sad Sack takes a look as says “its only bleeding” which I take to mean that nothing short of a severed or at least broken hand warrants sympathy.

During the long beach walk that follows we pass a large stranded jelly fish. It is interesting to note that of the multitude of tracks all heading for T9 only one deviates enough to have a look at the jelly fish – and even this one did not have the energy to break stride to a take a good look.

It is after nine o’clock Wednesday morning by the time we swim the Keurbooms once more to get to T9.

As expected we are short coursed with Legs 13 to 17 being replaced by a 120 km cycle from T10 to T15.

The veils of the future are lifted one by one, and the mortals must act from day to day.” (WSC: 1940)

But first we have to do Leg 12 up to T10.

… our chickens are not yet hatched, though one can hear them pecking at their shells. (WSC: 1943)

Leg 12:  13 km meandering kayak up the other branch (Bietourivier) of the Keurboom river to T10

This was a matter of finding a channel through what appeared on the map to be a sand bank filled swampbut was in actual fact a large cattle farm.

At one stage we get out for a walk-about (because the map indicated a dead end – which actually wasn’t so) just around the corner. We explain the dilemma to a team that catches up. Their navigator refuses to consult his map because "I dont want it to get wet" at which the lady in the team (his wife?) says sweetly “just get the map dear”.

“I detect a bit of tension there" says GI Joe a little later.

Bloed en OMO has a policy, and also a pleasure,  in engaging with other teams that may share the road with us a for while. In particular I like, as navigator, to share my situational assessment with the other team’s navigator. Partly because its good to confirm one’s picture but also to assist. The fact being that we have often helped others to correct their thinking. The mere fact that they cross paths with Bloed en OMO often suggests that they too might be off track and are not where they think they are. Whereas Bloed en OMO always knows where they are - somewhere in Southern Africa.

For the record:  their navigator was absolutely correct.

         Help each other when you can, but never harm. (WSC: 1938)

Leg 13/14/15/16/17  120 km (?) cycle to T15

Once again it is heading towards sunset by the time we embark on a long ride that took us all the way up the first range of mountains and then all the way down to the coast and then back up again to Gouna and beyond.

At T15 there is a bit of an misunderstanding about the availability of water up the road and several teams are dry. A local hears of this and drives up the road to his house by the road side. By the time we get there he has set up a mini water table where he offers us water and whatever fruit and snacks he could find in his home.

It is after midnight when Private Ryan breaks his seat post with some 60 km to go. Luckily we can make a repair although he now has his knees coming almost up to his ears. 

A while later when we decide to sleep in the forest we have a deja vu moment.  The little gray cells have not entirely deserted us - we have walked this area before!

We continue another two km to the now deserted T5 at Gouna to find the transitions tents still up – promising a wind and dew free sleep. And then we find that the cottage is open and it offers electric light, flush toilets and mattresses.

“ .. you never can tell whether bad luck may not after turn out to be good luck” (1930)

“Goodnight then: sleep to gather strength for the morning. For the morning will come. Brightly it will shine on the brave and true, kindly upon all who suffer for the cause, glorious upon the tombs of heroes. Thus will shine the dawn.” (WSC: 1940)

In the early hours we head south once more and clip CP44 to reach, just before dawn, an important junction just north of the Simola Golf course. Important because a correct turn will take us to a turn-off onto the only road across the lagoon and on to CP45 at the Phantom Forest.  A wrong turn leads to the N2 and more chaos.

We scream downhill to discover that the Simola Golf Estate’s grand entrance is on our left and not our right where it’s supposed to be. We meet up with a local couple out on a very early morning ride who spend many minutes in the morning frost explaining, despite our very adamant claims that we took the correct turn, we are on the wrong road (they seem to think the road we thought we were on has been swallowed up by Simola Estate). They give a complex set of instructions on how to avoid the N2 but my brain is unable to store the data and we battle to get back on track.

Eventually we head inland again. The uphills start again before Phantom Pass and the road only sort of levels out after the Hommtini Pass.

We hit territory familiar only to the wanderings of Bloed en OMO near Platbos and we turn right onto a long and fast downhill to T15 and the waiting kayaks.

But first there is a gentle downhill. GI Joe is leading.  I realise the moment has come to say softly: “ do you realise it’s a downhill and you are doing 12 kph?”

At T15 it dawns on me that Simon, the medic, is at every transition we visit. Could it be that he is stalking us in the hope of some exciting repairs.

Leg 18 Kayak to Finish at Pine Lake Marina Resort

A quick paddle across the lake into a strong headwind and we are home. I struggle not to let GI Joe into a secret that I have kept from him for two days: His family are planning  a surprise him at the finish – thanks to Facebook entries they have realised the enormity of his accomplishment. 

We are chased across the lagoon, and beaten, by another team.  But we still feel victorious.

                         “For defeat there is only one answer … victory.” (WSC: 1941)

 If ever there was a father who lives for his two boys it is GI Joe and they greet him with joy and tears.

For a few minutes we are treated as heros. Champagne is cracked, warm towels are handed out, we are seated on leather couches and photographs taken . Then the next team comes in and we are chased away.

“I could not live without Champagne. In victory I deserve it. In defeat I need it.”  (WSC 1946)

         

         Photographer: I hope, sir, to shoot your picture on your hundredth birthday.

          WSC: I don’t see why not, young man. You look reasonably healthy. (WSC: 1950s)

In closing:

         The journey has been enjoyable and well worth the taking – once. (WSC: 1931)

GI Joe for a complete novice you surpassed my expectations. No, I lie. I knew you could do it – that’s why you were selected in the first place. You tackled each obstacle with enthusiasm and a deep sense of privilege. Thank you too for your early morning prayers delivered, so to speak, out of the saddle.

Private Ryan once again you were the team work horse. Challenges were met with joy and laughter.

Sad Sack do you ever regret our first meeting in Vancouver Canada some eight years ago? I knew then that anyone crazy enough to swim in a  sea six degrees colder than Clifton beach was crazy  enough to join Bloed en OMO. With each race as we chat and banter for hours I see deeper into your soul and  I respect what I see more and more.

But just think how strong an athlete you would have been if you had only selected the correct style of walking in standard four.

               One always measures friendships by how they show up in bad weather. (WSC: 1948)

GI Jane, my beloved daughter,  the grace with which you accepted the loss of your place in the team despite the months of training you put in saddens me. So too, that you were prepared to fly all the way from Canterbury at the last minute and the good humour with which you followed us around as our media “mamrazzi”. I believe the team slept on mattresses more often (at least twice) than you did.

It has been a long time dream to do an expedition type race with you. But I hope it will remain an unfilled dream for the simple reason that you and Pieter-Hendrik will be raising children of your own. Perhaps one day one of them will look through the family albums and say “My Oupa hardloop in die aand rond”.

As for me, this was a time of bitter-sweet reflection. Connie, my wife who shared the secrets of my soul for 40 years, died on the 7 of January this year - the day before GI Jane's wedding.

The day before Christmas 2014 we learnt that her  breast cancer that had been in remission for some 21 years had came back  and had spread to her liver, lungs, skeleton, intestine etc. She battled it for the whole of 2015 with treatments conventional and unconventional, initially fighting it back but eventually succumbing.

One of the, oh so many things, I miss, is being able to tell her about what Bloed en OMO  did and saw and laughed about and promising her that the two of us would one day do the best bits on our own. I shall treasure memories of the many adventures, including the 2009 Swazi Xtreme, we experienced together.

The wine of life was in her veins, Sorrows and storms were conquered by her nature and….. it was a life of sunshine (WSC 1921).

And a final piece of advice from WSC that is well worth remembering:

“Falling in love is like smoking cigars; first you are attracted to its shape; you stay for its flavour;  and you must always remember, never, never let the flame go out.” (WSC)

Kinetic Full Moon, Badplaas, August 2014

Race report:  Full Moon, 9/10 August 2014

Location: Badplaas

Team: Bloed en OMO

Members:

Christine Kina Tequila  van der Merwe

Nico  Sputnik Labuschagne

Jan Biltong Bezuidenhout

Abel Agter os van der Merwe

I was glad to share this one with two good friends and my daughter who joined as a late replacement.

Yet again we were treated to some splendid terrain.  But, this was a tough one. Certainly my  toughest Full Moon both in terms of physical effort and navigation challenges.

I am truly impressed that almost all the teams – including Bloed en OMO, scored a full house on the CPs. Hats off to the all novice teams.

We finished the first hike, which entailed a heavy-breather over a mountain pass, late and consequently completed the paddle leg in the dark. Sodden and battling hypothermia we struggled onto the bikes to be rewarded with a flat tyre 20m from the transition.

The 50 km (+ extra in our case)  cycle leg comprised a long energy sapping climb up into the mountains with a hellish night time descent along rutted logging tracks.  It also presented three or four tricky bits of navigation at all but one of which we luckily took the correct descision even though group instinct demanded the other path.

The second hike through the night presented further  challenging orienteering which we aced with the help of a small miracle or two, whilst the final bike leg to the finish was full of sharp changes of direction but that were nevertheless easy to navigate - daylight allowing us to follow the many bike tracks.

Two things will stick in my memory:

Firstly, there was our struggle to find C13 – a non-negotiable as it was also the gate into the estate containing T3 and TP4. Due to a combination of sloppy copying of data from the master map and not noting that the path had looped back at the end of the descent I became completely disorientated.

In fact I thought I was ‘‘motherless-in-a-shopping-mall“ lost - without any means of finding out where we were in the map other than back tracking all the way back up to CP12 to re-establish a known position. Absolutely nothing made sense and the only cryptic clue was the high voltage  power line which I blame for confusing my fancy Suunto compass.

Luckily one of the very few teams still behind us pitched up, also disoriented. Pooling our observations we realised the gate was actually not far off at the end of a side road marked as cul de sac.

Secondly, after some light drizzle during the first half of the night, the clouds cleared up and at one point I looked up at the moon right above us.

It was iridescent – so much so it looked transparent – and really large and close. There could be no doubt that this object that appeared to be hovering just above us was a sphere and not simply a distant yellow disk. Adding to the effect was  a small rectangular patch of very luminous cloud - whisp thin in the middle somewhat like a smoke ring- that actually appeared to be positioned behind the moon. The overall effect was of a smoke filled glass orb cupped in cotton wool. It took conscious effort to beat the optical illusion. Then it moved on and so did we.

Earlier I had looked at the southern cross and recalled the words from the Crosby, Stills and Nash song that goes:

When you see the Southern Cross for the first time

You understand now why you came this way

‘Cause the truth you might be runnin‘ from is so small

But its as big as the promise, the promise of a coming day

I had thought this might be a theme to build a race report around but the moon stole all the inspiration.  Instead what kept on coming into my head was another old song of my youth.

Herewith the modified Adventure Racing version:

How many roads must a man walk down

before he stumbles upon the CP?

How tired, wet and miserable must he be

befores he’s allowed to sleep on the sand?

Yes, how many river crossings must be endured

before they’re forever banned?

The answer my friend is blowin‘  in the wind

The answer is blowin‘ in the wind.

Yes, how many years can a mountain exist

before it‘s discovered by a  race director?

Yes, how many blisters can two feet have

before there’s room for no more?

Yes, how many ears must a captain have

before he can hear the crew’s lament?

The answer my friend is blowin‘  in the wind

The answer is blowin‘ in the wind.

Yes, how much kit can be stuffed into a backpack

before it bursts at the seams?

Yes, how far can a bike be pushed and carried

before its left under a bush?

Yes, how many miles must a man paddle

before he is able to travel straight?

The answer my friend is blowin‘  in the wind

The answer is blowin‘ in the wind.

Yes, how many times must a map be turned

before it makes any sense?

Yes, how many times must a compass be tapped

before it speaks the truth?

Yes, how many times can a man trust the ropes

before a  knot comes undone?

The answer my friend is blowin‘  in the wind

The answer is blowin‘ in the wind.

In closing I wish to apologise to the marshalls at T3 whose boerewors was eaten by Biltong.  When we returned from the hike I was, however, glad to see that they had braaied some more. Unfortunately for them, it was liberated by Sputnik under the pretex that this was now T4 and therefore a new opportunity.

Thanks to all for another great weekend.

Agteros