Modern Athlete Magazine Issue 121, August 2019 | Page 51

TRAIL RUNNING
ourselves up and over the cliff edges (and certain
death), we climbed sufficiently high enough to use the
Google map and navigate ourselves to safety. This
was a section of pure joy – high mountains, waterfalls,
blue sky and Pondoland cows for company, and best
of all, the blue dot indicating where we were and the
yellow line of the route were in complete agreement.
Carla: We got horribly lost and found ourselves
arriving at the first aid station backwards, having done
four kilometres more than we had needed to. Anyway,
we thought, what’s four extra kays, we won’t get lost
again, we’re still doing really well. Ha, ha, boy were
we wrong! From that moment we got lost at every
available turn. Remember that little yellow line I was
talking about? Well, the minute we zoomed in our
little yellow line disappeared and it went from being a
self-navigated race to a race of exploration, trying to
decide which path was best to take.
Su-yen: Things didn’t go so well the moment we
descended back to the coast and our signal bid us
farewell. It was incredibly frustrating that the map
wouldn’t expand when it wasn’t in communication
with the mobile networks. It might have been here that
I considered the folly of our ways, since Carla and I
get lost on a straight road that is marked clearly, but
never one to admit defeat, we just ploughed on.
were right and they were wrong, and so we pressed
on, heading further and further away from where we
needed to be.
Su-yen: We took a path that went up and up and
up, and we could see the headlamps of the team
behind us clearly going a different route. What made
us so stubborn and stupid that we thought we knew
better than them? After all, they had a satnav and
hadn’t come to grief, whereas we had already done
plenty extra kays in misguided tracking. But we kept
at it, until the untrustworthy Google map picked up
reception and showed us the error of our ways. Once
again, we were way off course. Sending a message to
the race organisers to let them know we had ballsed
up and were heading back to the track, should have
also given them a sense of how wrong we were
continuing to go. Ah, all so easy with the benefit of
hindsight.
But we pressed on, made it to another
indistinguishable track and pondered life’s big
questions... like how could this keep happening?
Short answer: Shitty equipment. We arrived at
some fisherman’s houses and were chased by rabid
dogs, then two guys suddenly popped out of the
undergrowth and we pleaded with them to help us
get to the next water table. They took us on a route
that was more like straight down a vertical cliff and
straight back up the other side. It worked, though,
and once again we were on the beach with the lights
of the checkpoint in sight. We gifted our guides what
we could – juice and Coke – and arrived at the water’s
edge to be ferried across by a cheerful young man
who refilled our water bladders and offered us nuts
and chocolate.
Carla: We were rescued eventually by two locals who
led us down a vertical cliff, up another, down it and
onto the beach. I had never been so relieved to see
the beach in my whole life. We thanked them with
what was left of our race food, made it to the next
river crossing where we were boated across by hero
Tommy, and led to the aid station, where we stuffed
our faces. Then off we set again, just to get lost
again…
The Pondo Ultra took its toll on Carla
Our first encounter with near-death came when
we realised we were on the wrong side of a valley
and that if we continued we would quite likely miss
getting onto the beach that would take us to the next
checkpoint. Having retraced our steps quite a few
times, I decided we could probably find our way down
the mountain, because surely if trees were growing
on a slope, we would have plenty of purchase, too?
Well, let me state for the record that trees seem to
be able to grow in the most inhospitable locations,
including enormous crevices with drops hidden in the
undergrowth, and I have no idea how Tarzan managed
to swing from those vines. We were torn to shreds by
evil spiky plants, relied on hope when dropping from
rock to trees, and were almost strangled by vines
intent on keeping us prisoner.
We made it, though, and gratefully ran to the water
table that would have marked the end of day two
for the Coaster crew who were doing the race in
stages. We have never felt more welcome, with warm
drinks and food thrust into our hands, words of
encouragement and even a foot wash – thank you,
that was amazing! This kept our spirits up... possibly
too high, as this was where we should really have
latched on to the team who came in just after us.
But no, our stubbornness, and I have to admit, our
arrogance, led us to run out of there alone, into the
sinking sun.
Carla: We knew how hopeless we were when we
reached the 70km aid station (where we got a warm
welcome, coffee, food, a foot rub and clean clothes),
but we had already done 90km! This was not good.
They suggested that we wait for the next team and
join forces with them, but we wouldn’t have anything
to do with that. We would push on and be fine. What
made us think that? We hadn’t been fine all day, so
what on earth would make us be fine now? Anyway,
off we went, into the setting sun, headlamps ready,
guns blazing. And about 5km later we were lost again.
Then we saw our friends taking another path (their
headlamps in the distance) and truly believed that we
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