Modern Athlete Magazine Issue 98, September 2017 | Page 41

heaven, had I not been panicking about the second
day’s riding.
With legs and arms already covered in cuts and
bruises, we set off into the sunrise with a river
crossing to warm up the legs. After crossing the
Motloutse, we moved into open plains on well-used
ellie tracks, and we saw elephants each day, including
one unnerving experience during day two where we
had to backtrack swiftly and warn the other teams!
The total distance for the day was just under 60km,
and I did it. We were slow, but I was gaining in
confidence. The lions came during our second night in
the Amphiteatre Bushcamp, their low grunts filtering
through to our cozy tents at about 2am, but I told
them I wanted to live and would give day three a go,
so they moved on.
The route description for day three promised us
around 70km of fun, but the race briefing outlined
a course closer to 80km. I started with big eyes and
a determination to master some of the technical
elements that lay ahead. I had such a great team, full
of humour and passion. We had two Russians that
thought it was the Olympics – still great guys – but the
rest were fairly chilled about pace. I’m not sure what
the Bush Telegraph had put out, but on day three
Jeremy, an equestrian vet from Zimbabwe, appointed
himself my personal mentor. “Stay on my butt, watch
my wheel, follow my lead.” He led me to the mid pack
of our team, and things got real. I was actually riding
a bike, at a fair pace, and it was both exhilarating and
terrifying.
GETTING THE HANG OF IT
The first section to the tea stop was 95% single
track with a lot of mopane trees. Ever been slapped
by a mopane branch? They were never-ending,
and I prayed for game sightings and a stop to take
photographs. My upper lip took a slap, and swelled
impressively. But I also wobbled through sand, and
even managed to stay on the bike for some of it.
Sweeps Matt and Greg smiled at me, and shook their
heads. “Like a Lotus flower opening,” said Greg,
generously.
But at the tea stop I was overwhelmed by exhaustion;
the kind that I normally feel at the end of a race like
Comrades. I nervously told Saffy, our team leader, that
I needed to stop. He organised another Landrover
and in I piled for a very long round trip across the
Zimbabwean border into the delightful Maramani
Community Camp on the banks of the Limpopo River.
I was so tired that I slept through some rough 4x4ing,
bouncing around on the back seat, oblivious to my
surrounds. I arrived at camp at the same time as my
team, and ran in with them, with deep joy as I used
my trail shoes for their intended purpose! That night
we drank beer on the river bank, beside a sign that
said “Beware of crocodiles,” and ate like royalty before
another solid tent sleep.
FINAL STRETCH
We woke with mixed feelings: Glad that the end was
in sight, sad that our time together was nearing an
end. What an adventure. We had all disconnected
with reality for a few days… no signal, no work,
no admin or deadlines. The final 60km lay ahead,
and we were all pretty tired. Rachel, the only other
woman on our team and a resident of France on her
first trip to Africa, was administering Essential Oils
to herself and the rest of us, as we were all battered
and bruised and covered in mopane welts. Dieter, our
oldest team member (but with the youngest heart and
most impressive one-liners) asked a medic how long it
would take to die… and with that we piled our weary
bodies back on the bikes for one last push.
We’d been promised a sighting of 200 million year
old fossils on Sentinel Ranch, among other highlights,
and a border crossing back home across the sandy
Limpopo River. We all made it, and I owe much of
that to a combination of Jeremy the vet and Matt the
Macadamia nut farmer who simply would not let me
quit. Handing the loan bike back was an emotional
moment, and I realised then that mountain biking will
become a permanent part of my adventures, as it’s a
great way to improve my mountain running, and to
see the world. That’s why I’ve purchased that loan
bike and had it shipped down to Cape Town. As far as
life choices go, this was a good one. But next time,
I’ll train.
Soon I realised
I was probably
going to die, face-
down in a dry river
bed, with a bike
attached to my body
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