Swazi Extreme AR 2009

PSYCHO-ANALYST ADBUCTED BY AWOL GERIATRICS - TRAIL LEADS TO SWAZILAND

Race : Swazi Extreme 2009
Date : 24 - 26 April 2009
Team : Bloed en OMO –LITE
Connie “Ouma” van der Merwe
Christine “Perky” van der Merwe
Team : Bloed en OMO-Very Old
Jan “Biltong” Bezuidenhout
Abel“Oupa” van der Merwe
Second :
Denis “Santa” Milton

This being a report on the Swazi Extreme you’d expect references to how challenging it was and a plethora of anecdotes about getting lost and minor accidents and heroism and camaraderie and everyone supporting each other through times of hardship and crisis. Instead I am compelled to dwell on the topics of petrol stations and railway lines.

But lets first get our little pigs in a row.

The Start Line

To quote the veterans : the hardest thing about an adventure race is reaching the start.

It is the turn of my prodigal daughter Christine a.k.a. Perky - who for the past four years of exile in England has dreamt of doing the Swazi with her old man - to join B&O.

This is her first major endurance event so I decide that it would be best for her to do the Sport SX although there is motivation for a bit of revenge. She being the one who originally dragged Oupa into mountain biking, triathlon and AR (plus a few stupid things like paragliding and sky diving - one jump of the latter was enough). Unfortunately anything less than the Pro would not satisfy the masochistic streak I inherited from her.

The solution is seemingly simple. We would enter two teams, a Pro pair ( B& O Very Old) and a Sport pair ( B & O Lite) and travel together during the day so that Oupa could keep an eye on the kinders.

There is no doubt about my partner for the Pro pair - Biltong Bezuidenhout. I knew he is demented enough for AR when we meet for the first some nine months ago swimming in the 11 degree water in Canada. Plus, his physical ability is sufficiently greater than mine that I can load his rucksack will all sorts of extras. And, most important of all, he’s a gentleman and pretends not to notice.

Then Perky’s preferred partner for the Sport team withdraws. As do the next four tentatives. Five days before departure Ouma also announces that she is not available for the role of First Second – especially since her attempts to find a partner had also dead-ended. BUT she would join the Sport team if I could find a seconding crew.

In between desperately searching for seconds I spend every waking moment thinking about the wisdom of allowing Ouma to enter.

Obviously she can withdraw at any of the transitions if the going gets too tough. But what if this or what if that happens in the wilderness, will we be able to get her out? Aside from age and gender considerations there is the matter of chemo therapy some 15 years ago. On the other hand, Lance Armstrong did it and this is what she wants. I too for that matter.

I am less concerned about Perky as I know she has the capacity. All that bothers is her recurrent ITB injury and her ability or desire to cope with three geriatrics in the wilderness. She reminds me that she has after all spent the past few years working with autistic children and is now counselling serial rapists and other hardened convicts at Pretoria Central. I terminate the discussion before she can make any more cutting remarks.

All the seconding options are quickly exhausted – it’s tough when you don’t have many friends. This is taken as an omen to stay at home. Then I remember an old friend of some 33 years ago who was raised in Swaziland and who might, on that account, just be interested. Boy, what an enthusiastic response.

Denis, a most capable and inspiring engineer who has accomplished some amazing things, is one of the most gregarious and jovial humans on this planet. With his white beard and all he has the appearance of Santa Claus making him accessible to all and sundry. He starts the pattern that is to endure the entire SX by striking up a friendship with bikers at Chrissiesmeer when we stop for diesel.

All that remains for the start line is five days of purchasing and packing. There being no time for team training or even a quick Kamp Staaldraad to establish team morale.

The only sign that Ouma’s worried is that she looses her spontaneous laugh and is extraordinarily quiet in the days running up to and throughout the race. Even Perky is pensive and drops her usual enthusiastic babble. No matter, Biltong and Santa are their normal, talkative selves.

We arrive at Mlilwane in high spirits. I study Day 1’s maps till late. Ouma sleeps peacefully having judged by the number of lines Oupa draws on the maps with five different colours of highlighter pen, that he knows what he is doing.

THE RACE

Bloed en OMO-LITE - all smiles for the moment

Bloed en OMO - VO. Biltong can't enter the compass PIN code. Oupa pretends he doesn't know him - the oke has forgotten to press the GREEN button.

Day 1, Leg 1: 2 km Run/Hike from Mlilwane Game Sanctuary camp to a bus stop in the bush

Its 5 am and the hounds are let loose to follow a mealie meal trail. Ouma and I fall behind the pack and eventually we can barely see the twinkling headlamps of the others. Then we come across a mound of fresh hippo dung and moments later the hippo grunts behind us. Ouma goes shunting past like Bryan Habana and we catch up just in time to board the bus to Mbabane.

The bus drops us off at CP1 in front of the magistrates office – yes the pre-race, April 1st, warnings by Darron about it being an Urban race are true. One thing I have learnt over the years is to take Darron’s apparently nonsense comments (e.g to enjoy the view at a particular point on the 2006 SX) seriously.

Day 1, Leg 2: CP1 to CP3 (Luphohlo dam edge) via CP2 (peak) : 16 km hike

For a few minutes there are teams rushing hither and thither while B&O looks confused. I regret not cheating by following one of the local, Swazi teams. Then the impasse is resolved. The ladies spot a petrol station and insist they must go for a pee. I think there is material for a doctoral thesis on the involuntary response of the female bladder to a petrol sign. My contention is that it is this habit and this habit alone that is the reason for B&O not making a podium finish regardless of malicious rumours about erratic navigation and inadequate horsepower.

By now it is broad daylight and the only other people on the streets besides B&O are the odd early morning commuter. So we decide to gather some OPs (Optional Points) in and around town despite our pre-game plan being, in common with many of the other teams, to only do CPs (Compulsory Points). B&O almost loose their navigator to a taxi in the process. Did the driver not know that a man with a map and a compass is very important and enjoys precedence above all others?

The shops are opening when I reveal to the teams my bold navigation strategy – which actually works - we would not head for CP2 via the Manzini (or whatever its called) valley but would strike out due west to the highest point above town then amble south all along the top of the mountain range to CP2. Sadly this means we miss some very interesting OPs.

Almost immediately we are in trouble. We struggle to find and then pass through a small suburb comprising a mere nine blocks. I can see the doubt accumulating in the team eyes. As if that’s not enough, we stumble onto a four lane highway not on the map. Biltong, the gentleman, shuts up. The ladies, like all good women through the millennia, suffer in silence whilst the men cock up. Eventually we break through into the mountain wilderness and steam south, the sun hot on our backs.

Perky warns about getting to CP2 ahead of the marshal so we stop for a brunch of sardines and provitas while Ouma takes out her knitting.

Despite the stop we still beat Cyanosis and McCain to CP2. I am sure this rattles them since how can they know for certain how many OPs we skipped? To their credit they do not give up and they manage to catch us, all steely eyed and competitive, before we get to CP3 at the dam edge.

Day 1, Leg 3: CP3 to T1 : Dam swim (+- 600m)

Sweaty and bristling with black-jacks we plunge into the dam – which, by the way, is not a lake as I am reprimanded in the Queens English by a local woman that I asked earlier for directions to Luphohlo Lake.

I sense that Ouma is a bit apprehensive about a major open water swim with a rucksack so we just do it without any further thought or argument. Luckily she follows like a trained Labrador and there is no need to resort to threats.

At T1 we are treated to hot tea etc etc by Santa – but we first have to find him and drag him from some event on his social calendar.

Day 1, Leg 4: T1 to T1 via CP 4 : 6km Dam paddle

Luckily this is a dam paddle and not a damn paddle as the two girls do their thing without any flips. Two OPs are even roped in for the fun of it. We strike out on the next leg feeling refreshed and good about ourselves.

Day 1, Leg 5: T1 to T2 via CP5 and CP6 : 22 km MTB to the overnight camp at Mhlambanyatsi.

Tra la la. Ouma does the leg, which includes some hills and a fast downhill for the last 3 km, without a whimper. A pattern she follows to the end – except when I stood full force on her little toe with a cycling shoe. She uses a word she surely could not have learnt from me.

Perky likewise does the entire event like a seasoned racer with hardly a puff. Uncommon for a child, she does not once throughout the race ask how much further to go.

We arrive an hour early to find our camp all set and Santa ready with tea/coffee and all the ingredients for a multi-course braai. Of course we first have to find him – which is easy. We just stand still and listen for laughter.

Night 1, Leg 1: T2 – CP7 – T2 : 35 km scenic pine forest and gurgling streams MTB excursion via Trout lake.

While B&O-Lite take a well deserved rest, B&O-VO departs on the Pro only night leg. It is supposed to be a short excursion but, due to problems negotiating the forest, it takes us several hours to get to CP7.

Allow me to explain. There is nothing romantic about coniferous plantations. They are hostile.

The tall trees present an impenetrable barrier to the eye allowing no landmarks to be seen. It does not help that they are criss crossed with roads as these are more numerous than any map would have you believe and thus more a source of confusion and seduction than a benefit. Furthermore, aside from exhibiting little personality or identifying characteristics, they tend to loop in senseless patterns as they follow the deeply undulating terrain of the typical forest.

The forest itself seldom allows the taking of short cuts or bee-lines as it is either, when the trees are young, blocked by a barrier of interlocking branches, or, if it is older and the branches have been culled, covered in dead braches and spiky undergrowth. The trees quite simply do not support any indigenous fauna that might tread useful paths.

To sum it up, a forest is a living, treacherous slimy thing, that, when you take your eye off it to read the map, soundlessly slithers and slides like a loose blanket over the hills and valleys to present an entirely new set of options when you look up again. I can’t help but wonder how often the loggers, when they harvest a section, come across skeletons of man and beast. You have been warned.

And forests are the predominant theme of this SX!

Eventually we escape into the open valley only to run into swamps -which I’ll bet the other teams never found. Far away we see torches twinkle in the distance and our spirits are revived. But, the groups head in different directions so they presumably also have some team issues to resolve.

The Trout Lake is eventually pinned down and we take a three hour (compulsory) sleep. Up at 1 am we decide to nail 4 OPs but eventually only get one – although two others are seen across a ravine with thundering water.

So we limp home, again dead-ending in the plantation several times. We crawl into the dew sopped tents just before dawn.

Day 2, Leg 1: T2 to T3 via CP8 : 20 km MTB

B&O-Lite rejoins the race and we take a tra-la-la downhill ride to CP8 – the merriment spoilt only by an involuntary scenic detour which we cannot afford as the Camp Commandant has organised plenty of activities for this day.

The ride to T3 is mainly uphill and has to be pushed as we are behind schedule.

Day 2, Leg 2: T3 to T4 : 10 km forest hike

Initially our orientation is excellent and we make good time. Just when we can see the support vehicles clustered on a hillock across the valley we are frightened off by a steep drop to a stream in a kloof - so we cut to the right hoping to latch onto forest roads that will takes us around it. An hour, and many loops later we end up at the bottom of the kloof and still have to ford the blooming swampy stream.

Day 2, Leg 3: T4 to T5 : 12 km MTB down the escarpment to the Lusutfu river valley.

A few minor hills and we arrive at the edge of the escarpment. We pause for a few moments and enjoy the magnificent view standing like warriors astride our steeds - which is a bit difficult to imagine in the case of Perky, who has chosen to name her baby blanket pink and grey Cannondale lefty “Priscilla Queen of the Desert”. Then we tackle a fast and furious downhill.

Once again I deal with concerns about Ouma’s ability – she never before having done a downhill of this magnitude – by just pressing on. And she follows like a pro. Even enjoys it. It would appear a monster has been created.

The leg is spoilt by turning left instead of right at the bottom which adds 3 or 4 km, and more wasted time, to the ride.

Day 2, Leg 4: T5 to CP10 to T5 : 20 km MTB to steel bridge and back

This starts with a hard slog up a saddle through the hills where Ouma’s battery starts to run flat. I worry, as I can see from her drooping eyelids that there’s barely enough charge left for a few more hills and a river crossing to CP10. She perks up on the way back and after some victuals from Santa I am surprised to see she’s keen to hike to CP9 on the mountain.

Day 2, Leg 5: T5 to CP9 to T5 : 9 km hike up mountain.

Concerned about possibly having to return over the boisterous river in the dark we take the longer approach via the footbridge. Despite re-assurances from returning teams we fail to find the path and are blocked by dense vegetation and have to find our own way up.

Perky disturbs a hornets nest and they tackle me. I am glad there’s antihistamines in the compulsory medical kit but there’s no time for self pity and I somehow just couldn’t be bothered to scratch in my rucksack.
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The sun has been sucked below the horizon when we scramble to the top– just in time to grab the now departing marshal by the collar.

Night 2, Leg 1: T5 to CP11 : 21 km MTB

Santa feeds us supper while B&O-Lite prepares to be transported back to Mhlambanyatsi for an overnight rest. At 7h30 B&O-VO reluctantly leaves the transition together with B.A.N.F.

The first 3 km takes hour and half as we fail to find the bridge over the river that several locals assure us leads to the Matseni school road. All we can find in the approximate vicinity is a footpath that becomes ever vaguer before it is eventually blocked by a 30m wide river. An hour or more is wasted on reconnaissance missions this way and that way before we accept that we must tackle the river. It is only calf deep.

At 11 pm we arrive at CP 11, a windswept hillock at a school gate and opt to take forty winks as part of our six hour quota. The marshal, bless him, is obviously concerned about the state of the two ou manne. As the roadside is a bit stony, he offers us a mattress made of shade net, and even props up the one end against a chair to screen the wind as we cover ourselves with our plastic shelter – it being too much effort to unpack the sleeping bags. Almost immediately a hand gently shakes my shoulder and a voice whispers the forty minutes are up. My teeth chatter like castanets as we pack up.

Night 2, Leg 2: CP11 to Cp12 : 13 km MTB

We head for CP12. I feel sh*t. My metabolism has dropped to that of a hibernating bear and my bowls feel as though I have swallowed a tourist, cameras and all. For a while we move fast but 6 kms further things come undone. Biltong without reproach allows me to walk up the shallowest of inclines as an hour is lost. At CP12 we camp on a bed of pine needles for the final two hours of our quota. At 4 am we are woken up to find that Bad Medicine and B.A.N.F have caught up.

Night 2, Leg 3: CP12 to T2 : 17 km MTB

The teams compare strategies and decide to disagree. Ours clearly works best as we are back at Mhlambanyatsi way ahead of them – despite the inevitable forest meanders. We arrive as all the other teams are departing for the final day’s frolic.

Day 3, leg 1: T2 to T6 via CP 13 (peak), CP14 (kloof) and CP15 (even higher peak) : 15 km hike.

B&O-Lite are all smiles. Its going to be a climb every mountain (two of them) and ford every stream type morning.

Its 9 am and B&O still haven’t decided, after a delayed start followed by some dithering, how to approach the first peak. The ascent is cloaked by a menacing plantation with looping inspection roads. Then we find the gap and OP 13 is cancelled off the list in a flash – and so is the skin on my shin by a loose boulder. A cold front rolls in ominously on the horizon and a few drops of rain fall so we don’t spend too much time admiring the view.

This is followed by a frustrating search for the kloofing CP14 which adds more delay and we know that Bad Medicine and B.A.N.F are breathing down our necks. So too does hacking through a section of brambles.

CP15 represents a hard climb. Luckily the B&O navigator has another rare lucid moment and with some nifty navigation skirts the intervening valley thereby saving many kilocalories.

The surviving von Trap kinders and their governess will be appearing in Sound of Music IX (adult sized lederhosen to be supplied soon)

The steep descent to Meikles Mount is, however, harrowing. Again we strike it lucky and are through the base forest with minimal effort.

At T6 we check out the empty pool and have a leisurely transition since, by all accounts, the final leg along the railway is going to be a tra-la-la descent all the way.

Day 3, Leg 2: 20 km MTB along disused railway line to the finish

Surpise 1 : When we find the railway it is in a deep cutting and we have to negotiate a 6 m drop in stages.

Then we’re off with a passion – for all of 2 km.

Surpise 2 : The track is blocked by years of growth that grows progressively worse.
We battle our way through, convinced that the setback is temporary and this must be the route. There can, after all, only be one railway line between the steep mountainside and the stream that roars like the Peruvian Urubamba deep in the gorge.

Soon we are leopard crawling between the tracks, dragging the @#$&@ bikes by the ears while bar ends and de-raillers catch on vines and thorns. Then even this is not possible leaving us with no choice but to hoist the bikes up the mountainside. We are seduced into this decision by the faint trail of crushed vegetation left by earlier teams. But, it gets worse and there is no end in sight.

I am deeply humbled by the two girls. For almost two hours Ouma silently tackles every obstacle as if it were a wolf threatening her grandchildren. Perky does likewise whilst Priscilla is scratched and battered.

Never again will I underestimate woman power. It is incredible to think that until very recently - our generation in fact - women were denied participation in all manner of sports.

Bad Medicine catch up and they tackle the problem with fresh vigour. There’s much grunting and breaking of sticks as Glen (?) thrusts himself deep into the barrier. He returns defeated. A scout (Mark?) is sent to the top to see if there’s a chance of breaking through the plantation on the ridgeline but, as anticipated, it’s impenetrable.

At 16:45 it is decided that retreat is the only option as darkness is not long off. As we do so I glance back and see a path of devastation in the undergrowth that could only have been made by the Panzer Corps. Lucky for them B.A.N.F arrive in time to catch our retreat or they would surely have believed that this was the golden highway.

There’s no clear plan of action then someone remembers a casual Daron remark about a jeep track – which is found and taken with desperate enthusiasm. There’s no time for self-recrimination as we get the hell out the place before dark.

Henceforth we travel as a pack. That the four teams would join forces for the final leg home is an unspoken fact.

The jeep track deteriorates. The grass becomes longer and hides loose rocks. It is pitch dark when we eventually come hurtling down the last stage of the mountain. Then there is thunder and the rain that has been threatening all day starts – mercifully it stops a short while later.

Once again Ouma amazes me. Perky tackles it all like a pro and leaves me worry free. Biltong on the other hand takes a bit of strain and blames his rear de-railler. But, I think he was just taking pressure off the girls.

In the valley we find Darron and Anita in their Land Rover looking for us. He has a heart after all. He runs ahead leading the final four teams home. B&O-VO reaches the finish line stone last, a mere twenty meters behind B&O-Lite.

As result of the railway line fiasco we come in two hours late – but I would not have wanted it any other way as this memory will stay.

So in the end it was indeed all about camaraderie and everyone supporting each other through times of hardship and crisis. But, it shall be a while before I am able to look upon a railway line with fondness or nostalgia. Pine forests for that matter too.

Many thanks to Anita, Darron and team for a memorable weekend. The soft accomodation at the start and finish was great as was the excellent camp site for the night transitions. Pity it can't always be like this.

Statistics:

Hike : 52 km (at least)
MTB : 94 km (+86 km for Pro)
Paddle: 6 km
Swim: 600 m
Number of falls: Nil
Number of navigation errors : Irrelevant. All who wander are not lost (JRR Tolkein)

You thought I was kidding about the knitting

Biltong and Santa as usual think its all a joke

Epilogue

A pleasant side effect of spending time in the wilderness is that it always leaves me feeling closer to my loved ones. Indeed to all humanity.

Tuesday morning on the way to work I know exactly which CD I shall listen to. I can identify with John Denver as he sings Rocky Mountain High but wait a while before I listen to Annie’s Song because I know how it will affect me when he sings:

You fill up my senses
like a night in a forest
like the mountains in springtime
like a walk in the rain ….

Come let me love you
Let me give my life to you
Let me drown in your laughter
Let me die in your arms
Let me lay down beside you
Let me always be with you.