EzelEnduro - A riders perspective

Ezelenduro – A riders perspective

I wanted to do this race badly, I wanted to test myself against the mountain, see how I stacked up against other riders and I wanted to have a lekker weekend around it as well. Last year I was still riding a little plastic bike with lightweight wheels that I knew was a bad idea. But this year it was different. Swapped the plastic bike for something bigger and beefier. I even taped an old piece of tyre to the downtube to ward off some knocks (it worked.) My bike was ready, and I thought I was ready. 

The Ezelenduro is probably one of the hardest enduros in South Africa. I say probably, as I have not been part of the shenanigans at the hallowed Hakahana and KZN events.  But the Ezel event is pretty hard, I’ll admit that. To those who don’t know the Enduro racing format, it is based on Rallying.  The race is broken down into Special Stages, and riders are not timed on how long it takes to get to the special stages. Riding between stages is called Liaisons. An Enduro can take hours to complete, and have a racing time of about 20-30mins. For the Ezelenduro we spent 7hours in the mountain, but the racing aspect was about 30mins. I knew this was going to be a rough day out, so my mission was to finish all the stages. Last year only 25 of the 60 people finished. It is a stupid idea, but a great idea.

It all started off with registration and a quick race briefing. Rupert VonT was standing on a table and working his crowd into a couple of Hoorah!s to get us amped, it didn’t take a lot, he promised us some lekker trails, a lot of gnarl, asked us to be sort of careful , reminded us that a helicopter is on standby, and that there is some medics at Race HQ. We had to get a buddy so that we at least had someone who knew whether you haven’t finished a stage and might be stuck on the mountain somewhere, a quick explanation was given of how the timing system works, and the rule was decided upon that every stage starts with the rider with one foot on the ground, and ends when the rider stops at the marshall. Simple stuff.

And then we were off. We cruised down the farm’s roads to the base off the climb, and it was pretty cool watching as people popped off water bars, jumped anything they could find and manualled random gaps. The stage was set, this was going to be a lekker day on the bike. 

We climbed up Dead Man walking to go over the first hill overlooking the farm. To those who know Eselfontein, this is the climb that goes underneath the pipeline and curves around the back of the mountain to pop out on top with an amazing view of the valley. It was pretty cool looking around and seeing strings of riders ascending the switchbacks to make their way to the top.

I buddied up with Pieter Henning, and we tried to be at the forefront of the field to avoid waiting too long at the start of the Special stages. We managed it by being early at the start of SS1, and from there on we were among the first to go down most of the stages.

Stage 1 was a good warm up. Fast, with some off camber corners, a lot of speed and steepness in the last bit to keep us honest. It was an eye opener and enough to get the adrenalin flowing. It was lekker. We ended at the bottom just after a river, you basically hit the water flat out hoping that there are no unseen holes and try to stop just before running over the time keeping marshall.

We then set off for stage 2. We were warned that the ruts on stage 2 were deep, and that we shouldn’t try to pedal if we got stuck in it. I have ridden this trail before (the first time I had to help a guy down the mountain who fell here and got a heavy concussion) and knew what to expect.  When I arrived at the rutted bit I just decided to not take chances in the rut, and basically rode next to the rut, hopping over it when it curved left and right and sort of straight lined it through the corners instead of riding in the rut. I also managed to miss the sneaky left corner that we were warned about, coming way to fast and had to hop over (and sort of through) the bush that was laid down to mark the corner. I took a slight detour but managed to not lose too much time because of this mistake.

A power ranger drops into SS3A

We then cruised over to the start of SS3A. This was where things got rocky. As in really rocky. Pieter and I walked a couple of meters down the stage to cheer the first guys dropping in, and I couldn’t wait to get started. If only I knew what lay ahead.

Pieter dropped in, and 20 seconds later I set off as well. I was not prepared for the bomskok.  It was rocks all over. Little rocks, big rocks, round rocks, straight rocks, pointy rocks. Rocks everywhere. It seemed that a meteor shower struck the mountain and we were trying to navigate through its aftermath.

I could barely get a few pedal strokes in every now and then, but to top it off, I was picking up speed the whole time, it was steep in places, and the rocks didn’t really allow braking, as they just rolled everywhere.  Somewhere on this stage I couldn’t make a corner, overshot it, and careened down the side of the trail into more rocks. Crisis! I came down hard, immediately felt a sharp bang against my right pinky and leg. Thank heavens I was wearing knee pads, as the thump numbed my leg. I jumped up, grabbed the bike and ran back up to the trail to get going again, ignoring the pain in my hand and shin, but alas, the impact twisted my handlebar, I had to jump off the bike again and twist the bar straight again so that I could resume racing. I didn’t get the bar 100% straight, it was turned slightly to the left, I had to compensate for this (it is like driving a car that pulls strongly to the left or right) mentally and really had to focus to get down (I was still racing, and still going faster than what would be a good idea (actually, doing this whole event is kind of a bad idea…) but fortunately I was nearly done. I made it to the marshal, stopped, got timed and then took stock of my injuries. Two badly scraped shins, and one very fat pinky. I still don’t know how I didn’t break my hand or finger, but I am very thankful for that. Pieter checked out my hand, we decided that I would not have been able to open and close my hand if it was broken so we deemed it safe to go on. We rode another beautiful portage; it offered a vista overlooking the farm and even had a waterfall.

Busted hand, with a nifty timing chip.

Stage 3B I was getting into the groove and managing to ride the rocks better, I kept momentum up, carried speed over the rocks, flowed through corners and generally started enjoying myself. But it was brutal, calling it rocky would be like calling the sea wet. The whole route was made up of rocks. Only the size differed. I was so glad to get to the bottom and see the marshal that when I started riding towards him I didn’t realize that it was not a marshal, but a guy with a phone taking a picture (the timing device looks like a big phone,) I realized too late and when I tried to get back onto course I had dropped my chain and fell when I tried to pedal. I got up, ditched the bike, jumped over a stream and ran up the hill  to the real marshal, sprinting with all my might to finish the stage. I think the run might have shaved a second or two, as I was in the wrong gear and would have laboured  up the hill on my bike. But damn, two falls down and two massive stages left… I was starting to evaluate life choices and adjusting expectations.

Heading up to the start of SS4

"Jip, we are going all the way up there."

Pieter and I cruised over to the start of the portage up to stage 4. We stopped to fill our bottles in a stream again and started our hike. It was a monster slog. Up, up and over a mountain. We hiked up for an hour and a half, stopping two thirds of the way up for lunch. I was smashing leftover braai broodjies and pizza into my mouth like a fat kid at an eating competition.

Just before the top of the climb we started to encounter riders racing down. I worried about running into someong going up or down, but that was dissuaded very quickly. The shouts of “rider” was interspersed down the mountain with the rushing, clattering sound of a rider racing past you, tyres scratching for grip and rocks rolling out of the way in the wake of mountain bike tyres.

At the start of stage 4 we did a bolt check on our bikes to ensure that everything that might have rattled loose is tight. We rested a bit, ate some more and then got ready to take off.  We had to race down this monstrous stage that took us 90 mins to ascend. We had to get down safely, get the bikes down in one piece and not slash a tyre on one of the MANY rocks.

The sound of the riders racing down was insane.

Pieter dropped in, and as usual I dropped in 30seconds after him. As I started racing past people that was hiking up, their cheers ignited something in me. Racing over the rocks and being cheered on made me feel like a rockstar, no matter how slow I was really gooing.

Everything clicked. In my mind I was klapping it. There were wild horses running beside me, eagles flying over me.  I cruised over the baby heads, nailed the rock slabs, hit my corners and braking points bang on and just generally enjoyed myself. About halfway down I passed Pieter who was standing beside the trail, bike upside down. On any other day I would have stopped to help, but this was a race, and I’m pretty sure Piet didn’t want me to stop.  I shouted some encouragement at him and went on. At the last bit of the stage I was moeg. I couldn’t operate my shifter (the derailleur’s clutch was on, making it harder to shift, but helped to keep tension on the chain,) or the trigger of my dropper seatpost. My forearms were pumped and my thumbs were cramping from holding on. Just before it was starting to get too much the stage was over. I stopped at the marshal and had my time tagged. 

Replacing Pieter's gear cable

A minute or so later Pieter also rolled in. His gear cable snapped and his chain wrapped around itself and his pedal, that is why he had to stop to get it untangled, and also had to finish the stage in his heaviest gear. Unfortunate. We replaced his gear cable (remember kids, always carry spares) and set off for the last hike of the day.

Once again we filled our bottles again and had something to eat.  We joined Dan, Harry and Francoin on the hike.  We hiked up slowly, this stage was as rocky as 4, but steeper, and had a couple of sniper climbs in it. As Francoin and I hiked up, we agreed that if it is okay for grown men to cry after finishing Comrades that it would be okay for us to choke back a crocodile tear or two at the finish. This hike felt even longer than the hike up to SS4. It was a slog of note. Dragging my weary body and a heavy bike up a mountain was rough. At the top we rested again.  For the first time I wasn’t amped to drop in. My hand was hurting, my legs ached and I was tired. And the Stage scared me.

Procrastinating at the start of SS5

Nevertheless, we had to get down the mountain anyway so we dropped in to SS5. The Queen. It was rocky, gnarly, steep, rough, had very little flow and the steep climbs that surprised wreaked havoc with my body. At one point in the stage I came around a corner and my bike just disappeared from under me. I went over the bars, banged my shin hit the deck. Hard. This fall took the fight out of me. I got back onto the bike and just headed further downhill. No more heroics, no more gung ho, no wild horses. Just finish the stage. When we hit the flat pedally bit at the bottom I knew it was close, but still I could not get to the marshal fast enough for my liking. When I rounded the last corner and I saw Dan Dobinson it felt like a wave of relief. I stopped, checked in just had a huge grin on my face. I felt relief, pain and elation. I made it. My bike made it. The mountain did not break me but I nearly broke myself against the rocks.

Pieter and I headed down to the race village to hand in our chips and get some beer. The beer tasted wonderful. I went for a swim in the dam to get the worst dirt off me and out of my wounds and headed to the medics to get checked out. They agreed that my pinkie was not broken, and cleaned up the gashes to my legs. With the lekker KZN timing model, you get a print out with your stage times when you hand in your chip. This system worked lekker, and it will be cool to race more enduros with it.

We cleaned up, got dressed and felt alive by prize giving. Prize giving was a joyous affair, with even the winner of the unofficial Hardtail category getting a piece of wood for his victory. The floating trophy for the winner (Hayden Brown) is heading to Jozi for a while and the ladies also had a new winner (Gina Nixon.) I think special mention needs to go out to the guys on the hardtails, they took a stupid idea and made it even more ludicrous, and the ladies also need a special mention. All three ladies that took part finished all the stages.

With the official results out, I am 18^th, with Pieter 19^th, 3 seconds between us. We both lamented the time lost with his mechanical and my many crashes, but we’ll race again next year. As  an aside, I’m dik chuffed with my time on SS4. 09:17 (remember, we hiked up for 90 mins) and placed 13^th on that stage. Overall racing time for me for the day 33:39. The winner, Hayden finised in 26:19, smashing a while 7min20 into me, but only 5seconds separated him from second place. It was that tight.

We went for a lekker group ride the next morning. Some of the riders were hanging like fruitbats, but this is Eselfontein, it is very hard to not have a good time here. Both on and off the bike.

Was it worth it? Was it fun? Was it hard? Absolutely. I will be back next year. I will be better prepared. I will go to gym more than two times as part of my preparations. My core muscles ached for two days after this. And I will have to searching for rockier trails to ride. After this event I have a new baseline for what I regard as rocky, and what is rideable. The limit is a lot further than we think.     What kind of bike do you need? Well apparently a hardtail is fine, But I’d suggest a trail bike or bigger. I rode it with my Giant Trance 2 and it performed admirably. I would have liked a lighter bike with more travel, but this bike served me very well.

Edit:
My name suggestions for the stages:
SS1: Getting Steep
SS2: Railing Ruts
SS3A: Thunderbolts and Lightning
SS3B: Meteor Shower
SS4: Rainbows and Unicorns
SS5: Crap en Ellende 

W2W 2015 Ride report

W2W 2015. 

Sjoe, what a lekker experience. This was my first W2W, and it has always been on my list of races to do. And it did not disappoint,

I've always heard stories about horrible bottlenecks, and trails that can be ridden for less year round and how not fun it will be. But I've learned that one needs to be careful of who you lend your ears out to, as their experiences might not be the same as mine.

Our weather was awesome, with three beautiful days for riding, with lank amounts of sun to remind Kobus how much better the Cape is then Gauteng. Kobus and his Wife moved from the Cape to Pretoria 2 years ago. 

Registration and Day 1

Registration was a well oiled machine, and we were very glad when we scraped it into the whale Category. And promptly celebrated it with some beers at the market. Luuks. No 123 Team Bottom Bracket was ready!

Day 1 started sort of slowly. We started in D bunch, so the group wasn't slow, and we managed to crest the first climb in the middle of the bunch. Kobus and I planned to ride conservatively until the old pass, and then bomb home. Lourensford went fast, we only had traffic in one ST section, and then managed to get away from the bunch before the rest. 

Local knowledge helped alot, and I still remember quite a bit from the Lourensford shop rides. The new bit in Knorhoek is nice, and there is a lot of trails we didn't ride that will warrant a return. When we got to the train track above Knorhoek I was starting to sweat bullets, and the grind up to the track itself was hard at the pace we were going. The hike itself was fine, we went up at a slow pace, as did everyone around us. It was amazing to think that the Voortrekkers went up there in Ox-Wagons. Kyk, jy moet rerig 'n kakie haat om daar op te wil gaan om weg te kom. 

When we got to the top however, all hell broke loose and my hammies started cramping. dammit. I stretched it out, and when we got going we had a bit of traffic again. Fortunately we managed to get past most of them, and only had one issue. 

As Kobus went past a lady with me following, she swung to the right straight into him. I shouted, Kobus shouted and the lady started swearing in a Germanic tongue and accused us of passing her on the "F'n Right." Well uhmmm, about that... We got away from her and her partner and the rest of the bunch who were laughing their bibs off at the near tussle we had, and Kobus and I sprinted ahead in an adrenaline fuelled rage. Beast Mode engaged. Some guy fell in front of us on a sandy bit for no apparent reason, but we managed to stay clear and had a sweet run through more sublime trails (the previous day's weather did a great job on the trails.) 

Just before WP3 my legs decided that it was an appropriate time for them to sieze in a dual cramp. Quads and Hammies saying "Nee Meneer!!" Kobus watered some plants while I stretched and rebuked a couple of spirits out of my legs and we soldiered on to WP3. 

Here Kobus dragged a potato through enough salt to make it look like an Alpine Sunset and then stuffed it down my throat. Followed by more of these Sodium filled monsters. I licked the salt off my snor until just before the dam,. But the cramps were gone, and all that remained was the Pain Cave. We caught a guy on the Many Bridged Trail after WP3 who decided that no one shall pass. Well that was until he fell in a switchback. I asked if he was fine? he said he is okay, and then I quipped with him with "So it is only the ego that got hurt." I am not sure if it was the ladies behind him who laughed at that, or if he had a sudden bout of conscience, but he let us all pass at the next switchback. So we had a lekker run for the last bit of the A2Z (which skips quite a big chuck of the alphabet, but don't the guys from Jozi that, they love them some A2Z...) 

Around the dam my wheels came off a bit, and I asked Kobus if he had a headlight for me, as I couldn't see out of the pain cave anymore. That made him realise that he needed to give it a bit less hammer. I managed to scrape myself over the hills near the end, and we managed to keep the leading ladies behind us by me using every efficiency trick I've learned in all my years of riding, and basically chowing my handlebar while sitting in Kobus' slip.It is always lekker when you have a teammate with more or less the same bulk. I actually had space to hide behind him. We did ride through some very trippy singletrack with ferns all around us. 

When we reached Oak Valley and I recognised where we were the pain was forgotten and we gave it some more gas. I managed to wheelie across the line before collapsing next to the speaker stand (I got used to that speaker stand next to the Fair Cape milky bar over the next two days.) When we realised we finished just under 5 hrs we were elated, and celebrated it by funneling way too many melkies. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent eating everything we could lay our hands on, showering, drinking beer, not going for a massage and not washing our bikes (they had some dust on them, flip, they still had our Saturday ride dust on them, so all they got was lube.) We basically did everything that a pro would not do. We did go for an ice bath and a sadist named Ian showed us how to really inflict pain on our sore bodies using foam rollers and hockey balls. We drowned the pain with some Windhoek Draughts ( I didn't ride all the way from Somerset West to have a light beer. Nee Meneer.) We met some really lekker people, had more food, went to dinner, met more people, , had a jol at prize giving after dinner, and had another beer before we went to bed. Goeie tye. 

Day 2

That final beer did wake me up just before 1AM, and I had to go for a very cold Grabouw walkies. Negatief. I also realised that I was still pretty sore and walked a bit like an old man. I went to bed, and we woke up just before sunrise, it was still lank cold. A quick coffee and a monster breakfast sorted us out for day 2. We collected our bikes and lined up with B bunch for day 2. We were pretty amped to start in B - bunch, hoping that they would have better skills then the guy who ran out of talent in front of us on day1. Well, uhmm about that... It turns out that there are palookas even in A bunch. Next time I'm taking a couple of Joanna Dobinson's business cards to give out to some of these strong but less brave riders. In the first singletrack I had to remind Kobus that there are life threatening rocks on the course, and that walking it is in the best interest of some of the guys  in front of us. They might have overheard it and were visibly not impressed with us. 

When the roads opened up again we made our way to the front of whatever bunch we were riding amongst with some hard efforts, and this allowed us to get into most of the Oak Valley singletrack sections without hindrance, we would then usually catch up with the guys in the next group by the end og the trail, and then wok to go past them. We also found that if Kobus and I had a bit of a chat with each other while tailgating someone else in the narrow bits, they were quick to give us track. Obviously we thanked them profusely when they gave us a gap. 

When we got to WP2 at Paul Cluver I smashed some very salty potatoes in my face and washed it down with coke and a banana. When we got going into the Amphitheater we caught someone just before the first bridge. I thought I would place less pressure on her by shouting at Kobus to "Gee die tannie 'n gap!" but unfortunately she overheard this, and screamed "wie is jou TTAAAANNNNIIIEEEEEE!!!!" back at me. oops. We got stuck behind her on the suspension nridge ad she pulled over saying "die tannie gee nou vir jou 'n gap om verby te kom!" and when we went passed I realised that she is not a tannie, she was probably younger than us. Oops. Kobus was breaking himself with laughter for the rest of the amphitheater track, and to spare myself the embarrassment of facing the not-so-tannie lady again we put the hammer down again to get away from her. 

We caught some riders again in the next singletrack (mamba of boomslang of so iets) and we realised that there was some life threatening switchbacks in front of us. Kobus then started tuning the Jozi guys about their lack of skills. We weren't going slow through any of the trails, even with the traffic the train had flow. 

We dispatched some more singletrack, and had to dig deep to get in front of two guys just before the famous Gorge bridge section (geelslang?) but we had a clear run through there as well. Just to show the guys that we were not scared we stopped for a plant watering session before the sandy climb, before I got back into the pain cave for the climb up to Jakkals (a sublime new bit.) 

The strategy was to get ahead on the climb to have a clean run down Jakkals, but alas, we  caught some more guys in the trail. Two corners later they gave us a gap and we had another clear run down. Some more sections was followed by more singletrack and in the forest we got given track again. It was only in the Berms section that we got caught up behind someone who's ego was writing cheques that his skills can't cash. But I was cool with that, as the berm section is rather boring and hard work in the wind, so we took a chill pill. 

The bit around Lebanon Village was a blur of pain filled forest tracks. We were riding hard, and I was riding just above my threshold the whole time. I knew I was playing with fire (I could feel the fire in my legs,) but we knew we were getting close to home. WP3 at Thandi farm village saw me smash more salty potatoes and licking my salty snor again, and we set off to hunt some bears in the woods up to Kromco. 

The  climb up the forset section was rough. My lungs were clapping hands, my legs were filled with molten lava, and suddenly I was hearing voices in the pain cave, and they were not my own. A team was starting to catch up to me in the trail, and I knew I would give them track (it would only be fair after all) but I also knew we were faster going down. So with the specter of the following team chasing me, and Kobus dancing a switchback ahead of me I started grinding up that forest. But I managed to stay ahead, and we entered a lekker fast downhill section that I've never ridden before. Luuks! 

Climbing up to Kromco Kobus felt strong, and told me to hang unto is backpack, and he engaged Beast Mode and dragged us up the hill to Kromco, we sped through the fruit bins, down the scaffolding and up the Anti-Climax corner and were spit out at the Paul Cluver gate. 

Here I just decided to ignore all my instincts and we gave it gas on the way back to the finish. It was all fine and well, until we got to the singletrack climb next to the dam. I've ridden down this trail many a time, and I was not looking forward to going up it. I had to go digging in the pain cave again, and then my Sprecter of the Thandi trail reappeared behind me, and this team was climbing faster than my comfort level. Once again my pride and stubborness forced me to go places where I haven't gone in a while. It reminded me of all the SS training rides I did in Oak Valley, the pain was familiar, the pace was slow, but then it hit me. I loved this! I was actually enjoying the pain, thrilled by being chased and suddenly I was chasing Kobus. We crested over the bridge that I believe many a rider cursed that day, and then dropped down to the dam. A familiar trail to me, so we gooied! My spectre was gone, we were reeling teams at a rapid pace, and we could smell the finish. The finish came just under 4 hours from our start, once again wheelieing across the line, and once again collapsing next to the speaker stand. We did it! we wanted to finish under 4 hours, and we managed 3h57. Elation! 

We once again consumed way too many melkies, downed more Rehidrat than should be allowed, and smashed a Spur burger. This time we washed our bikes though, I found a broken spoke (I heard the pinging noise in Lebanon already, but didn't want to stop for it.) that I removed and we relubed the chains. Bikes ready for day3, sans 1 spoke though. I had a fancy pants 26er Fulcrum wheel on the back, and I didn't think I'd get the right spoke at the village.  Oh well...

More banter, ice baths, food, Rehidrat and beers were the order for the rest of the day. Still no middag slapie, but at least I was able to catch up with Hairy and Jerome. Dinner was another lekker kuier, with us making friends wit the Frannie Pants ladies that we rode with on day1. They are lekker tannies (ag ek bedoel dames) and walked away with half the wine given away at prize giving. After dinner we realised that it was the last night, and that we can't just go to bed. So we stayed up a bit later and kuiered some more. I silently prayed that the last beer won't wake me up at a crazy hour again

Day3.

Corrie was right. Day3 is my kind of day. I loved (nearly) every minute of it.

We woke up at 5. Coffee and a HUGE breakfast was followed by packing up and man handling our bags to the DHL trucks. I prayed over my back wheel, grabbed my back pack and went into the start chute. B again.  

We were early, and decided the best way to warm up would be by dancing to the fat lekker beats the DJ was dropping. Well, that was until he played One Direction. Aaai. 

We set off at a rapid pace, and pretty soon we were through Paul CLuver. We were mixing it up with the faster guys in B-bunch and it was lekker. We got our first bit of mud and water in 3 days, but it was just enough to get our bikes and my face dirty. Some more gravel roads were dispatched with at a fast pace and soon we entered the singletrack above Houw Hoek. Sadly here we had traffic, but it was still faster than expected. Just not fast enough for our liking. But it was lekker trail at least, and also very pretty. And pretty trippy as well in places.  It reminded me of Sani at times.. Kobus and I also made a lot of dump valve and exhaust brake noises to amuse ourselves with. Some people took offence to that. I don't know why? Houw Hoek hotel came and went in a blur, and pretty soon we were racing down the old Kat Pass. 

Every time when I drove over Houw Hoek pass I looked at the old pass and wondered how it looked. I was not dissapointed. It is beautifull. Bot Rivier came and WP1 was at the primary school. As we rode in the commentator  shouted 1! 2! 3! and the crowd went ballistic. We loved it!! The cheering made us feel like heroes. we smashed potatoes and cokes at a blistering pace, F1 pitstop style and we went out the gate. As we raced out the gate we heard the commentator again, 1! 2! 3! and the crowd went ballistic again, and then we realised, he wasn't announcing our arrival, he was counting down the crowd. D'oh!!!

Nevertheless, we trapped it out of Botrivier at a pace fast enough to dry out the wheat on the fields that was waiting to be harvested. Doing our bit for feeding the country one pedal stroke at a time. 

The bit between WildeKlawer wine estate and the steel bridge was bliss. Lekker flowy singletrack that was fast. I was driving the front and we did not see anyone for the whole section, we had this lively trail to ourselves. Fat smiles all around.

When we turned off the road and onto the field climb the wind klapped us full in the face. Kobus sheltered behind me and I was too glad to finally be able to return the favour. I was feeling strong and we ground it out. Fortunately we turned back downwind for the contour path. This contour path soon turned into singletrack. And lo and behold two corners in there was a guy in the singletrack, not pedaling his bike. He was stretching while cruising downwind. I interrupted his stretch with a ring of my bell and a warning that many people will be mad at him if he was going to stop pedalling. He really tried to regain speed to stay ahead of us, but gave up a couple of corners later and pulled over. His partner in front of him did not get as much grace from me. I just shouted at him to "Kom Kom Kom trap trap trap" but he sommer pulled over. I might have given him a fright. We never saw these two again. 

WP2 was at the end of this contour, more potatoes and coke and koeksisters was consumed at a blistering pace before we set off again. We entered more lekker singletrack. That forest trail with the mud brick house is awesome. But soon this turned into a climb that was pretty gnarly, not because it was rocky, but because of what it did to our legs. Crossing over we dropped into a lekker trail, but had a group that must have been roadies in front of us. Sies man, skaam julle dat julle so stadig ry! 

We turned into a gravel road and a big bunch formed. One of the roadie uncles then told Kobus that we still had to climb over a huge mountain in front of us. But I knew that road led back to Caledon. I just decided to shut up and see if I could burn him and his team mate off. We didn't need that kind of negativity in our lives. We let the legs do the talking and after some hard grinding and flat out sprinting across the dam wall Kobus and dropped into the trail first. One team tried to stay with us, but we dropped them at the Onrus  gorge crossing. There was a life threateningly dangerous section so they decided to do the responsible thing and walk it. We raced down the gorge and into WP3. 

After the usual WP rigmarole we set off again, and we were pumped. we were overhauling teams rapidly. We could smell the finish line. (Shucks, I'm getting an adrenaline rush writing this) We engaged Beast Mode and raced down the singletrack, at one stage I told Kobus I would not mind it if we got caught in an infinite loop and had to ride the Hermanus singeltrack forever. He agreed. 

The climb up to the barrel run was painfull. This was the only part of the day that I did not enjoy. The descent I did enjoy. Alot. 

We ran into more traffic on the last bit to the Hemel and Aarde village/mall/Euodia cycles, and we nearly rode over two of them when they braked for no apparent reason. But just before Habonim Camp on the gravel road Kobus and I engaged Beast Mode again and flat out sprinted through Habonim and into the bush. I wanted to be on the pallets at the beach before all of them, and we managed it. Kobus nearly rode over a lady on the Peri Scaffoldng at the end of the beach, but it was wide enough that he could go next to her and push her up the last bit. 

And just like that it was over. We cruised to the campsite, I wheelied over the line one last time and gave my lovely wife who was waiting there a kiss. We had some more melkies, jumped into the tidal pool, took a cold beach shower, ate more spur and drank one last Draught together while watching the prize giving. We ended up being 81st overall, 14th Open Men and 6th in the Whale Category. Total time 12h54.

All in all W2W is great. Kobus and I will be back next year barring a complication of sorts. 

I had more fun than I had at Sani, I liked the route more, the trails are less manicured (not by a lot though)  and gnarlier, and we rode a lot of sections that are off limits usually, and sections that I've never done before.

For me it was totally worth it. And I want to be back next year being faster, fitter and stronger, and hopefully still in the Whale category. 

Tru Cape ride report

Alicia was at a Womens Conference at our church this past weekend, so I reckoned a bit of MTB action would be on the cards.

Then a friend of mine asked me of I wanted to ride the tru cape race on the saturday, as his wife was also at said conference.

His dad is Wouter Lochner who along with Gerrit (of Gerhard) Huyskens (sp?) was the route planners/coordinators and apparently they had a lekker race planned for us. It is also the race that introduced me to singletrack 14 years ago, so Grabouw has a special place in my heart.

The last time I rode more than 50km was at last years Argus, so it was with trepidation that I agreed to ride the 50km. I contemplated doing the 25 on my SS. I knew I would survive 25km on the SS, but I also knew the back mountains where the 50 goes into is where the suffering would happen. If it was raining, I would be riding the 25 on SS, but alas, it didn't, so I took the plastic bike. My strategy was to start slow, keep riding slow and within myself, have fun in the singletrack, pace myself with some more slow riding, try to survive the last half, and wheelie over the finish line. seems simple. 

Online entry beforehand was R150, and registration was handled swiftly and I was given a temp board as I was not a PPA member. This also meant a back marker start. for me. 

The start was the usual Le Mans start. Naturally I sprinted ahead, ran a bit with the bike and was out of the field at the front. And then my hamstring reminded me where the doc removed some flesh (wat is sening in engels?) to manufacture me a new knee ligament last year. Dammit. So I switched back into easy mode and stared the climb being passed by almost everyone. before we hit the singletrack, we did some creative loops up some climbs that we never usually ride, with some lekker jeep track descents to sort out the field. I liked the jeeptrack descents as passing people was very easy here. 

At the first piece of singletrack i was stuck behind a slowish group, it was some new freshly raked trails, so alot of speed was not on the cards anyway, at the road I put in a bit of an effort to get ahead of this little groupie, and managed a clear run through a lot of single tracks after that. There really is a lot of trail in Grabouw. as in a bucket load, and we most all of it, and some new stuff. We did bypass the lank rocky trail with some new steepish rake-and-ride stuff that had me grinning and gooi-ing my foot out sliding all over the place. Jammer oom Wouter, dit was ek. Maar dit was lekker. I reckon bypassing the rocks was a smart idea, it would have been a walking nightmare for a lot of our lesser skilled brethren. Some more singletrack upon singletrack was followed by more singletrack. The dirt was still lekker firm from the bit of rain, with the smell of pine needles and racing through the trees I had the Indiana Jones theme song in my head. Great fun. 

I did eventually catch some slow okes on the later sections, but since they were mostly pointing uphill i tried to regain some rhythm in my breathing. My lungs were clapping hands along with staccato rhythm of my heartbeat. I knew I might have burned a few too many matches in my singletrack shenanigans, and that it might hurt later. Oh well. The traffic did become slightly frustrating when it got lekker again, but at the first set of switchbacks I pulled a Kevin Evans by taking a shortcut, passing 7 okes and bypassing two turns to get in front of the line. The uncle in front moaned and complained and said he will make sure I get disqualified for this. I just tuned him that I cant waste my time behind him all day, he is riding too slow. Some more lekker rough rocky singletrack followed until we were met by the second waterpoint. I stopped for some munchies, and grabbed an apple when I saw uncle slowpoke coming and raced ahead. I realised the apple was valuable, but had no place to store it, so I took a bit and kept it in my mouth when we entered the singletrack next to the waterfall. This trail mostly consisted of bridges connected with some lekker bench cut trail. on a rocky patch two ladies stopped (because: OMG! Rocks!!) but they gave us way, and when I mumbled "hmmhhmmm Thank you hhmmm" through the apple i was still holding onto with my teeth they burst out laughing. Just after this the 25 and 50 split, and we went up a climb that i remember from my school days. This did not bode well. Here I switched back into hurt prevention mode, and actually stopped to stretch my hammies a bit, as both of them were reminding me of all the Km's I have not been riding the last two years. A bit further on I helped a Spanish dude with a broken chain. He promised me a beer in return for my quick link, but I reckon he was already at home by the time I finished. 

Climbing was followed by more climbing, interrupted with a couple of way too short flat and down sections only to send us up more climbs again. On one of these "flat" sections there was some puddles, and i chose the conservative line through one of them, but it was way deeper than i thought, and it turned into a wall of spray around me, everything was wet. And then it turned back uphill again. Flip, I can climb up to the top of Jonkers on my SS, but climbing to the top of this monster was not something I want to repeat soon (it is called Venster Bult IIRC) and I very nearly had a sense of humour failure towards the end. I chatted to some guys who were putting the final touches on their Sani2C prep, but I have bad news for them, climbing out of Umkomaas might not be fun for them either. I spent a considerable amount of time in the pain cave here, and I must admit, it was good. It is lekker knowing that I can still take some punishment. The legs might not be strong, my fitness is not top notch, but at least the mind is still strong enough not to back off from the pain. The views did not disappoint, and the camaraderie of everyone suffering with you was lekker. 

After Venster Bult there was some more rough descents went into the waterpoint that was right at the start of a lekker singletrack with some nice rock sections in it. I stocked up on some Ice Tea, with some strond praat with the water point people, and then dropped into the singletrack Those who have descended down Nuweberg will know this trail.. Once again the guys in front of me were courteous enough to give me track without me needing to ask for it. After this lekker trail we had a last bit of climbing to do, and I made it all the way to the medics on quads before my legs ground to halt. I was cramping, and it was not fun. I knew I was less than 8km from home, but I could not move. The medics gave me some Rennies for the cramp (it works for all the doubting Thomas' out there) and i eventually got going. We went into some more singletrack, followed by a bit of gravel roads, and raced towards the country club. That is until we were pointed back away from the finish line. Some more gravel roads took us back towards the huts. Fortunately we turned back towards the country club into some new singletrack. here I had another cramp moment when I had to dismount up a short sharp climb, but I just ran up it to keep the legs going before they could cramp. we cruised the last bit next to the dam and through the forest towards the country club. 

I did manage to wheelie the last bit as planned. I think it took me just under 4hrs to finish. As I crossed the line I heard prize giving was already going on, and knew I would not be winning any lucky draw prizes, but fortunately the ladies at the coke stand were nice, even handing me more cokes when I consumed them to slow for her liking. "Jy moet drink my kind, jy het die suiker nodig" apparently I was looking too well. Apparently my friend thought a beer could also fix me as he handed me a Windhoek. He is a good friend, but it took that Windhoek, two burgers, countless cokes and a longer than short while to fix me. 

All in all it was a great day on the bike. The route is tough, but very fun. The singletrack is fun, abundant and with a good mix of flowy trail and trough trail. And gooi some rocky gravel road descents in as well. The marshals and water point angels were awesome. It is cool seeing that a local community is still investing into an event like this by giving their time. I am defs doing it again next year. 

The Grabouw Forestry trails are in great shape, and that is due to the efforts of oom Wouter en oom Gerrit. Go ride it when you can. You won't be sorry.    

The awesome support from an awesome dad.

I entered the WP Champs XCO race at Willowbridge this weekend.
I entered the sports class. So it is only 2 laps and worth about 45mins of racing. But I think it is a great way for me to dip my toe into some hard racing again.

With the weather bucketing down like this, it reminded me of the last time I rode SA Champs XC. It was in 2003 or 2004. I was either 16 or 17. Can't remember. I do remember it rained. Hard. For the whole week before we were dreading the race. On friday it cleared up and we managed a few practice laps. The course was rather technical, had a few big drop-offs in it and it was super muddy. Back then XC courses were laps of 7-8km. With usually two big climbs and a lot of singletrack.

I knew I could handle the course, I've ridden worse. But in the wet it was a mess.

Obviously it started raining the friday night again. I did not have a pleasant rest...
Saturday morning was wet, raining in bursts, but it looked alright, until just after we started. Then it started bucketing down.

Racing was hard, but it was more of a suffer fest than anything else. The course was a mess. Lines didn't exist anymore and we were sliding all over the place. This made the big drops even more sketchy, but the chicken lines became hazardous as well, so I just took the racing lines every time, as it was the only lines I've practised.

As the race progressed conditions got worse. It sucked. But I couldn't stop. My dad was there, supporting me.He was as wet as I was, slightly less muddy though. He ran between different points on the course cheering me on. He was as soaked as I was. But he wasn't hiding from the rain. He was supporting me. And I was racing. And we both gave it everything we can.

At some point in the race I bonked, my body just wanted me to stop. I can't remember what he said to inspire me but I pushed on. It got better and I regained some form of composure and managed to finish it.

I can't remember where I came. It was something like 18th? But I remember the sense of suffering. How I learned to blank it out. Not listening to the pain. I remember the sense of accomplishment. Some people were moaning, some were miserable, but I had a ball. I was relieved to finish. But you feel like a warrior after a day like that. And with someone like my dad standing by my side I could face it again on any other day.

The thing is, no matter what it is, my brother and I know that my parents will always support us like this. Wether it is a hockey game or a rugby match or a MTB race in the middle of nowhere. They still support us when they can. My boet's rugby team even made a jersey for my dad.

I remember more crazy days like this. Most of our hockey and rugby matches were in winter. They would always be there shouting like mad with a un umbrella and a flask and our warm gear for afterwards. I remeber the race in Bloem where I nearly wrote off my bike in a crash, the hockey game before it, the rainy days in Silvermine, Tokai, at Paul Roos, even in Bloem, and don't forget the countless sleepless nights at 24hour races. My dad would drive all the way to Napier so that I could do a 28km race. He never missed anything.

I remember the first 24hr race at Oak Valley. My father had a knee replacement on the wednesday. He got discharged from the hospital on saturday. Sunday he cheered me on, standing on his crutches. I was broken when I saw him, But that cheered me up and inspired me to the point where I could squeeze in an extra lap that I did not think I could do.

There are people in life that inspire you, support you and will go to the end of the world for you. My father is one of those persons.

So the rain for this weekend doesn't scare me. I have been through worse. I've learned from the best. The conditions won't change for us, but we can man up and face it. The challenge is there. You can accept it and face the adversity and consequences. Or you can back down. I hate backing down, but that is because I learned my tenacuty from the best. My dad.

Me on day 4of the Epic. My dad found the pic of me in the newspaper. Drove through to Greyton to come  and support us.

My dad and my boet after a school rugby game.

The Viljoen family at my wedding. Dad, Mom, Myself and Le Roux. 

Dirtopia Enduro

I haven't written in what feels like years. But it is months.

Since my last post I got engaged, married, got a new bike, moved into a new town, new church, changed jobs, changed jobs again, and my riding also changed.

So in all this change, a couple of good things came about. One of them is the Dirtopia Enduro I did on May Day. 1 May.

Oh my hat this was so much fun!
Enduro racing is based on rally racing. Or Enduro Motorbiking racing apparently. But I know jack about motorbikes. I do like the Rally comparison though. In my head I was like Peter Solberg. Just slightly less sideways.

So the riding is different. When I heard that it was only 6 stages (SS, for Special Stage, like a real rally) and that the total riding would be 20km's I thought it would be a joke. I mean come on, 20km is a warmup. But alas, some humble pie was eaten.

I always thought that I'm pretty fast on downhills. Not super fast, but abov average. I like downhills, I like scaring myself, I like speed, I even like going sideways, like a rally car (I'm sensing a theme here.) So here was my chance. Enduro racing entails everyone riding to the start of the SS stages, klapping the stage like a red-headed stepchild, moving on to the next SS, klapping it again, then moving on again, and repeating this for 6 or more stages. Sounds fun right?

I missed the previous Enduro due to work commitments and had to listen to all the stories about how cool it was and that I would love it and that it would suit my style of riding.

So when this event was announced I pulled out all the stops to ensure I got a sportspass for the day. Luckily  my wife remembered that we got married on the same day as the 24hr, and that I was a good race due. I married well.

Entry was in a month before the time. I realised my training was woefully inadequate  So I went on 4 more rides including doing all the canaries in one go. That reminded me how hard MTBing can be on the upper body. But we forget such things. All we remember are the beautiful views, taking jumps and riding down drop-offs, through trees on narrow winding paths and going around corners sideways. All good fun. On some rides your wife can join you and then you can show her how awesome you think you are by doing all the above, soemtimes she even attempts some of the above and that blows your brain on a completely different level. (My wife is good at negotiating rocks. I never told her that rocks qualifies as Higher Grade. Now she rides like a Kudu runs, Over everything and anything. Super proud Philip.)

But I digress, back to studio and the realisation that it is racing time.
Tuesday arvie I washed my bike. Realised that I may or may not have sealant in my tyres. That the rear gear cable is frayed beyond repair, and that my LBS was closed. Oops. So I dug in my garage and found a gear cable long enough. I replaced the cable, tightened most bolts, put a quick release seatpost clamp on, and prayed over my tyres and that the sealant inside would multiply. And then I had pizza with friends.

Race day arrived, Werner picked me up and we shot through to Delvera. Early. Like the eager beavers we are. We arrived at Underberg for Sani a day before everyone else. We're committed like that.

A bunch of us decided that mere racing and going sideways over rocks and through trees and stuff wasn't exciting enough, so we decided that gambling would be our next fix. Everyone chucked R20 into a kitty and the winner and 2nd placed in our group would take the winnings. Like a poker buy in. Except I suck at poker.

The lekker thing about enduro is that there is a lekker vibe. Your ego and your big wheels and you're fancy clothing will not make you faster. Some dude even arode with a massive snor and a check shirt. What a champ! There was knee guards, elbow guards, baggies and backpacks everywhere.

So we all set off in one slow bunch and cruised up to the first stage. A lot of things was said about bikes, wheel sizes, tyres, you name it. Smack was talked.

Arriving at the first Stage things got a bit more serious. People realised that it was go time! wait your turn, tag in, rae the section, tag out at the bottom (tagging was accomplished by chips on your wrist that was pressed against a reader, making a beep sound and recording your time.)

And suddenly it was my turn. Focus! Get your nerves under control, gear selected, both feet on, balance, tag the timer and go! All in power power power! over the rocks, around others,brake, don't fall in the corner, watch out for the massive sharp rock, down the rock drop, pick up the front wheel,brake, balance back, man handle the bike into another corner, on the power going exiting the corner, more power, manhandle the bike to get it into position, over rocks, shoot between two rocks, focus on the line, only one chance to get it right, more power on the flats, sprint where you can, another section of rocks, shoot over them, brake, corner, pedal, brake, rocks,pedalpedalpedal and tag out! Just like that it is over. SS1 done. 1min of intense concentration, putting everything you can into the bike. extracting everything you can out of the trail.

You get the hang of it pretty quickly. Even the liaison sections between special stages are fun to ride.

SS2 was another blur, I caught the guy in front of me, losing a second or two. SS3 was longer, here you started to fatigue and had long sections where you could put down a lot of speed, only to scrub it all of when braking for a corner, corners were taken with the foot out flat out technique, with slides sometimes stretched too far.
Between SS3 and 4 we had a break, drinking refreshments and consuming about three Orange orchards. Here the cellphones came out as people checked their times online. The beauty of the system is that it updates  online in real-time. So someone at home can follow you. And you can see where you are in the rankings. To the shock and dismay of some it transpired that Harry Orr might be in the lead. On his 29er plastic bike. Sacrilege. It was cool getting a message from my lovely wife telling me that I was doing good. She was tracking me at home. Man I love that woman. I married well.

SS4 was massively fun. Fast, with jumps and sections that you could pump to get more speed, here flow and straight line speeds next to the vineyard was important, at one point I realised that I must be doing close to 50km/h and the corner was coming up very quickly, so you slide into it and shoot over the grass cutting into the line and straightening out again, next corner you slide into a bank that manages to hold you on the bike. Just. Shoot into the forest, more loose corners, power out of them, squeeze past trees just shaving them while focussing on the next corner. Another 90seconds of bliss and high speed.

Getting to SS4 and SS5 had us jumping with our bikes on bakkies and catching a lift. Shuttling to the top. Dis nogal luuks. to get to SS5 we had quite a hike-a-bike. Here my lightweight plastic bike was a blessing. to get to SS1 we had to ride up a singletrack that we would now ride down. This promised to be fast, rocky again, with a couple of very tight switchbacks. All promising good fun, but we had to be careful.

I thought I gave the guy in front of me enough of a gap, but I still managed to catch him and almost catch the guy in front of him. (Un)fortunately guy number 1 took a strategic lie-down just after I caught him, so I didn't lose any time here. SS5 was super fun, and I nearly rode into a ditch by taking another grass shortcut. Luckily sanity prevailed and I kept on course.

Another hike-a-bike to SS6 saw the whole field regrouping. More banter followed, but everyone realised that this was a key stage. Long, rough, sandy, and with long pedal sections. I have to admit, this is where my wheels came off a bit. By this stage I was knackered. My arms were tired and my legs, lungs and shoulders were screaming at me. I was deep in the pain cave. But still I pushed on and applied more power. Only one last painfull sprint. With the focus lacking I also took a strategic lie down in a corner. Luckily the thorn bush was soft. sort of. Couple of seconds lost. dammit! Jump on the bike, on the pedals, power power power punishing the body for one last time. THis time seeing the tag point was a relief, a few last pedal stroke to squeeze split seconds out of SS6 and I was done. Knackered. Tired. Moeg. I cruised back home with John and WIlliam and Werner. We took the last lekker forest section of SS4 again, and John and I did the raised wooden bridge section. Because we can. And the ambulance was still parked there.

Getting home I smash an ice cold coke into my face. We stayed around for prize giving, Harry Orr took the win scoring himself a cute pair of grips.

We packed up and headed to la Romantica. There was important business to be done. Our betting pool was still up for grabs. Turned out I won. Score. Betting winnings was invested in the bar at La Romantica and the first round of Peroni Draughts was on me. Great way to end a lekker day on the bike.Thank you gentlemen, I loved taking your money. And if I win again I will invest it wisely again. Thanks to Werner, John, Harry, Pieter, Aniel, Matt, Graeme and the randoms I met on the day. Riding with lekker people is more fun. Period.

I learned a couple of things.

The best bike in the world, is the one you can ride right now. Don't worry about wheel size, suspension travel or whatever. Just ride your bike. My little plastic bike did amazingly well. I've got new found respect for it.
Be humble, a lot of the most vocal guys on forums or in bike shops or even on the trail, aren't nearly as fast as they say they are. And sometimes the quiet guy will surprise you with their speed. Case in point here is Werner and Harry. Always lekker riding with them.
Riding enduro is hard. I need to get fitter. And my upper body needs to get stronger.  And I need to fix my niggling shoulder and knee issues. The tiny things come to plague you when you are knee deep in the pain cave and your lungs are howling and you're muscles are shouting at you to slow down. If you are fitter, you can go faster. Mentally and physically.
I can go faster than I think, my risk taking propensity raised itself during the day, and I still felt safe. I guess risk is relative, but speed is speed, and sliding sideways into a corner is sometimes faster. So take the wild line and hang on. It is more fun.

All in all it was a great day. I managed to squeeze 5th place out of the overall.
My wife is so chuffed that she already told me to enter the next one. It will be at Bains Kloof. in Wellington. I can't wait.

Keep the rubber side down. And you're back wheel about 30-45degrees to the side. Fun=Fast.

Peace
Philip

MTB Ghost Stories

Awe

A mate in my church, let's call him Bos, so that those who know him can know exactly who he is, posted this on thehub today. Now I didn’t change a thing (even the photo’s are his,) and this is all a true story. Read his story after my story.

To those who night ride regularly, I don’t know wether you’ve felt scared while riding before in a dark forest before. It has happened to me once and only once, on this old farm near Ceres called Eselfontein on a piece of trail called The Dark Forest (no jokes,) a piece of trail that I’m usually playing around on and love, except for that night. Whereas I usually ride in front, that night for the second run of the trail I rode behind Werner, now I’m not afraid of the dark, but that night I felt so freakin scared and aware of something in that trail that I hugged Werner’s wheel like a scared four year old hugs his mom in a shopping mall. I wanted out to get out of that forest. Fast .

We got out safely, and nothing jumped us or ate me, and i don’t know wether it was my imagination or a spirit or if it was a wild animal, but that night I prayed so fast that I must have sounded like a machine gun. And I haven’t ridden that section in the dark since. So with that in my memory I can really relate to Bos’s story

But ya, rather read Bos’s Knysna story below me, it is way more interesting, and the man know’s how to write a lekker story. And after reading Toorbos some people might agree that there are strange things in that forest.

Enjoy

-----Original Message-----
From:
Sent: 17 August 2012 04:11 PM
To:
Subject:

Your story reminded me of a ride I did with one of my school mates who now works at Ultimate cycling (morne) We started riding at 8pm.. and rode up the surrounding hills and out into the plantations..

We  got completely and utterly lost after 25 minutes of riding through dongas and shack singletrack..

So the suspence starts building as we ride through a quiet stinkwood plantation.. imagine rows of trees fading into the distance as you ride through a narrow avenue of jeeptrack between the trees. The jeeptrack is flooded 6 inches deep and the only sound you can hear is our wheels riding through the water and some branches cracking as the night time animals prowl around in the plantations around us..To make it worse, the jeeptrack is tightly lined with thorney berry bushes.. so much that one would be unable to get off that road if something came from the front.. which was very unlikely, but It had that Nightmare on Elm street feel...

Now put yourself in my shoes, As you were talking about the YETI and the Knysna Elephant.. Its scary out there.. Not so much the Yeti and the ellies but the people that live deep in that forest freaks me out most!

So the next thing we are going downhill.. the road gets narrower (by now gravel not wet jeeptrack) the bushes and plants on the side of the trail has overgrown the trail somewhat and I have to really concentrate not to get dropped by my mate (Im not even ashamed to say, I was soo scared and wanted my mommy haha)

Ok, So flying down this downhill ( I didnt even know we went up a hill ok) getting darker and deeper into this nightmare forrest and SUDDENLY..my nightmare comes allive.. In my peripheral view I notice something is running next to me in the forrest...no bull***t..middle of the blare witch forrest something is rinning next to me and this at 50km/h... think OH my FAAARK!!!!!

Now Im trying not to get dropped screaming down this overgrown twisty path/road so I can not really look around to see what it is but I can see bleddie well enough that these things are not only keeping up they are as tall as humans they are black and there are a few of them..Now my dear friend you have not understood the kind of trauma and plain bekakking myself and "not staying calm" I was going through.. these effing things were chasing us! keeping up, Because ones mind can not Identify or comprehend what this would be.. YETI see pictures below..

Now I know you are thinking this can not get worse.. wait for this..

As all of this is going through my very small feeling heart the unthinkable.. With a big skid and "OH FARK" 10m in front of me Morne comes to a stop but Im not focussing on Morne, Im focussing on what is standing 2.5m tall on 2 feet in front of him.. Holy crap this is it we are about to become the product of all our sins and going to pay for not believing in monsters.. This is reality and Its gone bad...

I'll give you time to read...

Images like the above drove fear into my mind that night.. but seriously, have you ever came across something that runs that fast through bush.. Is black (no not bushmen  ) lives deep in knysna forrest and then stands 2.5m tall on 2 legs?!

I was in disbelief I tell you..

So I had to dramatise that last bit but ones mind is incredibly fast and thoughts fly around in split seconds.. So the thing was a horse.. there was a pack of wild horses running next to us in the forest and then up ahead one of them lay dead, dont know why.. and the other horses standing around the dead horse obviously got the fright of their lives when we came flying down and locking our brakes which also masked the sound of the horses which might have given it away.. further Morne's lights only shone on the body of the horse and the head was kind of out of the beam shot..

You get the Idea, but It was by far the most scared I had ever been In my Life..

Edited by Bos, Today, 11:27.