Event:SUBARU SANI2C 2008
Location : Southern KZN
Distance : 240 or thereabouts
Date : 31 Jan to 2 Feb 2008
Team : Bloed en OMO
Team Members : Abel van der Merwe and Joseph Oosthuizen
Author : Abel van der Merwe
So, Bloed en OMO rid/rode/rides again ….
Ag man, we did the SANI2C albeit as a re-constituted team. As predicted after the 2006 Swazi Xtreme, my son and partner discovered chicks in his 16 year and he is now playing saxophone in an Electric Free Band (he tried to get sponsorship from Eskom but they had a sense of humour loadshed).
Anyway, being a resourceful AR (Adventure Racing) oke, I auctioned off my youngest daughter and got the winner, Joseph (a.k.a. Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat) to sign a team commitment as part of the pre-nuptial contract.
The only problem with Technicolour is that he is a serious rugby player (centre) – built like a staffie and bristling with fast twitch muscle fibres only. As those knowledgeable folks who give all sorts of free advice on shoes and stuff on the AR site know, this means no endurance - as I discovered on our inaugural team ride (Barberton Challenge). Just before the summit he volunteers for a pit stop and like Sgt Oates disappears. The next I see him is at the finish – attached to a drip in the medic tent. The silent reproaches from his wife were quite wounding.
Enough background – herewith our SANI2C report with, as usual, the minimum of embellishment.
Day 1 : 85 km, 1 110m total ascent
At the crack of dawn I salted Dreamcoat’s water bottle with a tablespoon of Grandpa’s Headache Powders to prevent a repetition of the Barberton incident. This plus his own “energy” muti he bought from the Marabastad Cycle Emporium gives his eyeballs a psychedelic, never mind a Technicolor, radiance.
Consequently the start gun sees Amazing pull away in a fast twitch blur. I shift down, stand up on the pedals and in a fit cadence I catch up. Judging by his pink demeanour I realise the situation is getting serious. Then it gets even more serious – my left leg becomes unattached. Not at the hip end, silly, but from the bike end. There it was it was flapping away like a broken grasshopper with the crank arm stuck to the shoe. Luckily the saddle hooked onto a readily available orifice and prevented a nasty fall.
We eventually find the bolt and other odds and ends only to discover that our multi-tools do not carry a suitably large allan key and hand tightening only lasts 100m. So we are forced to commit a shameful act and ask assistance from a motor cyclist.
I make two resolutions. To extend my toolkit and to buy a crowbar – the latter for use on the mindless mechanic who did a “full professional” service on my bike the previous week. Sound familiar?
By the time we set of again we are stone last and alone (even the starting gate behind us is deserted). With prize money out of contention we decide to take a tra-la-la ride through some stunning countryside. Imagine riding a bike through the tranquil countryside whilst everybody else is at work and every time the beautiful vistas become too nauseating there’s a section of fast and furious single track through the woods – and, best of all, to do it on your own with nobody breathing down you neck and muttering things about old farts shouldn’t be riding MTB.
For almost 30 minutes I amaze young Amazing with my unerring AR navigational skills despite the spoor being obliterated by some 2000 cycle wheels. Then he observes there that there is a discrete day-glo orange sticker leading the way every 200m – I must admit this was quite the best marked MTB course I have every ridden – and the adulatory conversion dries up.
There is only one downside to bring up the rear. It is the look of disappointed on the lovely farm folks of KZN at the water tables when they hear you are the last “contestant” - and the tables are still full of doughnuts and banana bread, and the Clover truck still has a miljuns and miljuns of litres of chilled water. Let me tell you Caligula and Nero or even Manto could hardly have feasted better.
Every so often in life one comes across a situation where you just cannot say thank you enough. The SANI2C is one of them – Farmer Glenn please convey my appreciation and respect to the many folk out there – especially who didn’t share in the carnival atmosphere – and dare I say it, the 5 star showers and toilets - at the overnight camps.
The high point of the day was once again the floating bridge. This time though the water did not slosh to and fro between my spokes. Let me explain – the Oosthuizens are men of substance. They will pull any suspension or floating bridge taut as piano wire.
Day 2 99 km, 2230m total ascent
A mere 99 km km and 2230 total ascent on paper. In reality, the mud, the blood and the gore was indescribable. And that’s just the part where I had to drag Dreamcoat kicking and screaming out of our tent.
Day two comprises a fast and furious descent into the Umkomaas valley, then a blistering ascent out of the valley followed by another maniacal descent before the climb out of Satan’s whatever to the mid-way compulsory stop and lunch – which is where Bloed en OMO overstayed their welcome and came close to being driven away with sjamboks.
The shade and chilled water was just too much – and Amazing seemed to think demolishment of the pile of Nando’s burgers was his personal responsibility.
But, I want to return to the first descent down Nick’s pass and explain that Umkomaas is not your average erosion donga. In fact I think the Americans can consider closing the Grand Canyon as a tourist attraction. It just doesn’t come up to scratch.
Then there’s Nicks pass– it zig zags you down the escarpment with 14 well timed switchbacks. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it one day featured on the Megastructures program of the DSTVs Geographic Channel. It will require at least 14 episodes to give due credit to each switchback – all done by manual labour mind you. I challenge the Chinese to do better.
I emphasis 14 switchbacks because Dreamcoat only counted 12. Being an statistician type he claims his count is quite OK as this is still within the probability bounds of the second moment of the chi-squared distribution – or something like that. I merely nodded sagely knowing that in anticipation of him using too much brake I had loosened his brake cables the previous evening. (that should teach him to wash his own bike in future) He had simply short cut two switchbacks and made up for it by scattering a bunch of locals and dragging various amounts of flora and fauna in his rear derrailer. Next year’s front runners will be glad for the quick alternative route.
As for the section (Haaibos 1, Haaibos 2 and Shongololo) after lunch my respectful suggestion to Farmer Glen and crew would be to cut much of this out on the grounds that it is miserable riding uphill (and even more uphiller) in the hot midday sun with a full stomach and all those mad dogs and Englishmen about. He can leave in the lekker visit to the third and final water table at the little church though. I just want to know : who ate all the watermelon before we got there?
Day 3 75 km 1205m total ascent
Once again we are woken by the old cowboy singing “back in the saddle again”. Quite appropriate considering the number of lads walking around cowboys– the Brokeback Mountain kind - after Day 2.
The import thing about day 3 other than the seaside finish at Scotburgh is the fast total descent of more than 2000 meters through cane fields, game reserves and cool tunnels in the indigenous forest. Unfortunately, part of the descent is paid for by the total ascent of 1205 m which includes that nasty little “heart rate” hill (I am sure the English and maybe even the Welsh would call it a mountain) somewhere near the middle.
All in all very exhilarating downhill stuff – so much so that is rumoured that some of the more refined lady contestants fainted (or is it swooned?). This is something that I plan to include in my report to the “Parliamentary Committee on the Banning of All Females From the Manly Sports”. I personally have had just about enough of the weaker sex beating me at every sport I try. Besides, their well manicured and sweat and grime free appearance at the end of the race just does do well for the image of mountain biking as a sport for tough manne.
As for Technicolor, I am afraid I might have unleashed a monster. There was no stopping him on day three. I think he was longing for his ou vrou. He doesn’t know it yet but he’s been entered for the 2008 Swazi Xtreme. No luxury tents or steaks for dinner - in fact no sleep or real food for three days. And its Deliverance country so he’s not going to be leaving me behind!
Thanks to all for yet another memorable ride.
Oh, and how did Bloed en OMO do you ask. Quite well thanks. With this rate of improvement the likes of Mannie Heymans and Burry Stander best watch their backs in another a year or ten.
See you next year – I don’t dare let my SANI2C preferential entry lapse. It’s a pity I can’t write it into my will as an inheritance– it could have quite an influence on the way oupa gets treated by his heirs.
The high point of the day was once again the floating bridge. This time though the water did not slosh to and fro between my spokes. Let me explain – the Oosthuizens are men of substance. They will pull any suspension or floating bridge taut as piano wire.
Day 2 99 km, 2230m total ascent
A mere 99 km km and 2230 total ascent on paper. In reality, the mud, the blood and the gore was indescribable. And that’s just the part where I had to drag Dreamcoat kicking and screaming out of our tent.
Day two comprises a fast and furious descent into the Umkomaas valley, then a blistering ascent out of the valley followed by another maniacal descent before the climb out of Satan’s whatever to the mid-way compulsory stop and lunch – which is where Bloed en OMO overstayed their welcome and came close to being driven away with sjamboks.
The shade and chilled water was just too much – and Amazing seemed to think demolishment of the pile of Nando’s burgers was his personal responsibility.
But, I want to return to the first descent down Nick’s pass and explain that Umkomaas is not your average erosion donga. In fact I think the Americans can consider closing the Grand Canyon as a tourist attraction. It just doesn’t come up to scratch.
Then there’s Nicks pass– it zig zags you down the escarpment with 14 well timed switchbacks. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it one day featured on the Megastructures program of the DSTVs Geographic Channel. It will require at least 14 episodes to give due credit to each switchback – all done by manual labour mind you. I challenge the Chinese to do better.
I emphasis 14 switchbacks because Dreamcoat only counted 12. Being an statistician type he claims his count is quite OK as this is still within the probability bounds of the second moment of the chi-squared distribution – or something like that. I merely nodded sagely knowing that in anticipation of him using too much brake I had loosened his brake cables the previous evening. (that should teach him to wash his own bike in future) He had simply short cut two switchbacks and made up for it by scattering a bunch of locals and dragging various amounts of flora and fauna in his rear derrailer. Next year’s front runners will be glad for the quick alternative route.
As for the section (Haaibos 1, Haaibos 2 and Shongololo) after lunch my respectful suggestion to Farmer Glen and crew would be to cut much of this out on the grounds that it is miserable riding uphill (and even more uphiller) in the hot midday sun with a full stomach and all those mad dogs and Englishmen about. He can leave in the lekker visit to the third and final water table at the little church though. I just want to know : who ate all the watermelon before we got there?
Day 3 75 km 1205m total ascent
Once again we are woken by the old cowboy singing “back in the saddle again”. Quite appropriate considering the number of lads walking around cowboys– the Brokeback Mountain kind - after Day 2.
The import thing about day 3 other than the seaside finish at Scotburgh is the fast total descent of more than 2000 meters through cane fields, game reserves and cool tunnels in the indigenous forest. Unfortunately, part of the descent is paid for by the total ascent of 1205 m which includes that nasty little “heart rate” hill (I am sure the English and maybe even the Welsh would call it a mountain) somewhere near the middle.
All in all very exhilarating downhill stuff – so much so that is rumoured that some of the more refined lady contestants fainted (or is it swooned?). This is something that I plan to include in my report to the “Parliamentary Committee on the Banning of All Females From the Manly Sports”. I personally have had just about enough of the weaker sex beating me at every sport I try. Besides, their well manicured and sweat and grime free appearance at the end of the race just does do well for the image of mountain biking as a sport for tough manne.
As for Technicolor, I am afraid I might have unleashed a monster. There was no stopping him on day three. I think he was longing for his ou vrou. He doesn’t know it yet but he’s been entered for the 2008 Swazi Xtreme. No luxury tents or steaks for dinner - in fact no sleep or real food for three days. And its Deliverance country so he’s not going to be leaving me behind!
Thanks to all for yet another memorable ride.
Oh, and how did Bloed en OMO do you ask. Quite well thanks. With this rate of improvement the likes of Mannie Heymans and Burry Stander best watch their backs in another a year or ten.
See you next year – I don’t dare let my SANI2C preferential entry lapse. It’s a pity I can’t write it into my will as an inheritance– it could have quite an influence on the way oupa gets treated by his heirs.
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