Heading into another ancient caldera at Mafate |
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A runner ’ s view into the Cilaos caldera , formed by volcanic activity
downs , so I overtook many people on my way up . As I filled my water bottles at the next checkpoint , I was forced to think more than just one bite of elephant ahead . Over the next pass was the Mafate cirque , another volcanic caldera , but one which is only accessible by foot or by helicopter . I had a choice to make : Withdraw where I was , or be prepared to keep going , no matter what , for about another 40 kilometres to the next road extraction point . I kept going .
Mad Cows Everywhere
Night fell as I entered the Mafate checkpoint , where all the equipment and re-supplies had been flown in by helicopter . Then came another lung-busting climb and a long , slow trek up and along a plateau . It had been raining for a while and everything became slippery and muddy , and visibility difficult due to the reflection of my headlamp on the raindrops . I saw about half a dozen headlamps ahead of me on the trail , not seeming to be making any headway . Surely they weren ’ t lost ? As I got closer , I realised it was a language problem … the problem being that there ’ s no French equivalent of “ voetsek !”
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A small herd of cows was blocking the path and the gate we had to pass through . Apparently this was a problem for the gathering of Frenchmen , but not so for the Saffer armed with the magic word . I started shouting it as I approached , and it worked so well that I never even had to break my stride . The cows parted before me like I was Moses and they were the waters of the Red Sea ! The Frenchies quickly filed in behind me and followed along , and while I have no idea what they said to each other , the attempt to pronounce “ voetsek ” featured prominently . |
The cows on Reunion have attitude , but react well to Afrikaans orders ! |
can make a big difference to sleep-deprivation , so I decided to hold on and see what the dawn brought . It brought a f *** ing big hill . But it also brought back a little bit of sanity .
My Brother ’ s Voice
The dawn views were breath-taking , and became even more so as we climbed over and into the next canyon . For the next few hours , I just marvelled at the isolated valley and the ever-changing vistas around me . As the valley descended , we started encountering hikers and other signs of life , and eventually some isolated settlements . One of them had a small bar , so I popped in and was very tempted to buy a beer ,
The author ’ s early morning pic of dawn breaking over an isolated valley
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but settled for an ice-cold lemonade , which was wonderful , especially since then sun was out in full force and the temperature was rising fast .
After a few river crossings and several more climbs , I made it to Deux Bras , and my second drop bag . I cleaned my feet , put on fresh shoes and socks , and ate several platefuls of warm food . That perked me up nicely and I headed up the next big climb . After a few more hours of slogging , I hit civilisation again , and simultaneously caught sight of the ocean , I was close to the northern coast , and surely must be close to the finish ? That ’ s what I wanted to believe , but my brother Stephen , whose persona had taken over the “ distance remaining ” screen on my GPS watch , disagreed . And no amount of persuasion would change his mind !
What followed was a very technical descent , and some really rocky paths . By the time I got down to the coast , my shin was in all sorts of trouble , thanks to its earlier ( and ongoing ) back-protecting heroics . Some kindly physios helped get me going again , and they gave me some ice-cold sparkling water from their private stash , which helped plenty too . By then I ’ d had enough of my brother , as well as all the other weird things going on in my addled brain , so I tried sleeping again at the next checkpoint . It was third time lucky , and I slept soundly for a strict 20 minutes .
Sting in the Tail
Darkness fell on the Saturday night as I napped and then munched down some buttery noodles , before hitting the road again for the last push , with about another 22km to go . However , I misjudged how much climbing remained . The sheer scale of the earlier climbs made the last peaks on the route profile look
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Images : Anton Neethling |
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At the next checkpoint I again unsuccessfully tried to sleep , eventually gave up , ate some warm soup , and carried on . I have never hallucinated from sleep-deprivation , but I could tell that my mind was not firing on all cylinders . Although I was alone , I started thinking in the plural : “ We have to do this ,” or “ we have to go there ,” and I kept looking around for my companion , each time chiding myself for my borderline insanity . The different data screens on my watch also took on their own personae , as did my notes ( saved on my phone ) of distances and elevations . I realised I was doing it , and tried not to , but it became impossible . |
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Eventually , climbs and checkpoints took on their own personae and genders in my mind . I hadn ’ t slept since the Thursday morning , and it was now the early hours of Saturday . From experience , I know that a new dawn |