The day didn't start particularly well. I arrived at the festival grounds with half an hour to spare and not a bike was in sight. After numerous, 'Eish Baas, 8 o'clock' conversations with the security guards, I found myself going to the Sportsclub, and then finally the Co-op to make it barely in time. A field of probably just 30 was scattered round the parking lot, but any thoughts of a high finish were quickly extinguished by seeing a few sponsored riders and some very good hardware floating around.
It's no understatement to say that the pace from the gun was flippin' hot. I quickly gave up sticking with the lead pack of about five, but that was okay, since the pace motorbike had also dropped back to our group. We headed out through some cow patch, onto a dirt track and up towards the first climb, a radio mast looking over the dorp. It was very muddy and chainsuck was going to be a b1tch today.
With hindsight it is patently obvious to see that there were so many heavenly indications that I should have stayed in bed. Being a stubborn bastard does have its drawbacks, and the velogods decided to discipline my insubordination at kilometer twelve. I'd settled in behind two other guys and we headed down a nice road, except for the drainage culvert halfway down. Bunny hopping at +30kph is always fun, but risky. I landed to the oh so terrible sound of air escaping from my front tyre, and stans frothing. Once stopped, I noticed it was a tear in my sidewall, but didn't look too wide. I put my faith in the magic goo to do its work (what other options did I have), but it never healed and a tubeless to tubed conversion was performed, with the entire field filing past into the distant yonder.
Now a clever man would just cut his losses and go home, within an hour I could be on my buddies' plaas chilling in his pool. Then I realized, I have entered the Freedom Challenge 2008 and should eat these setbacks for breakfast as any pseudo hardcore biker would. I had a 'what would Maarten do?' epiphany. Then I realized that he never got any punctures in 2300km and would probably phone David to request an airlift. One of the local farmers came past (in his double cab) to see if I was okay, as they'd heard I had puncture problems. I said I was sorted but enquired about the rest of the route, was it as rough as what we'd already done? He just rolled his eyes and tuned me nooit, it was much harder and we still had to go up Paardeberg. We both looked in the direction of the southerly massif, standing out like the Mordor Towers in the distance.
Well that was enough to scare me into peeing my bibshorts sopnat, but if the climb was 'moertaai' then I was 'moertaaier'. I would take on the last 60km alone with no puncture repair kit or spare tubes, but it's not like they have thorns in the swartland. So I now embarked on a cruise, no more racing. I pulled into the first stop after a mad walk up a muddy hill, it was chocolate, juice or cake on the right or polisiekoffie on the left. Remember we're on the Weskus now, there's nothing wrong with dopping at 9am on a Saturday, the fact that these dudes were throwing fiftyfifty mixes already meant I probably would not be the only guy passing out on the route that day. I don't know why people think South Africa has a drinking problem, the general population (across all races and genders) have no problems drinking. The only thing close to a problem with regards to our drinking as a nation is the absence of an Olympic discipline where these skills could be rewarded with certain gold. I was further heartened to hear that I was now only ten minutes behind the next guy.
I caught the guys up at the base of Paardeberg, Johan and Jaco were digging in for a long day. Cool thing was I could now puncture and get away with it, they had spares. Pretty soon the grade increased and they started walking, so I moved on ahead (mindful of the R100 fine for last person to KOM hotspot). The road was quite interesting made of retaining wall type paving blocks with hard sand packed inbetween. Barely 2km's on the dreaded hiss emerged from my tyre. The funny thing was that stans was coming out the sidewall tear from earlier. I pulled out a nasty doring, and got ready to beg the backmarkers for spare tube/patch. I got both and repaired the flat too so I'd have a spare up my sleeve. Legends. Even though I had a lekker break halfway up, this was one f#$%ing bliksem of a hill, I'd love/hate to see a profile. I eventually pulled into the KOM spot just behind them, what a view – the boys up there had a lekker braai on the go and I considered waiting for the steaks. What goes up comes down, and the descent was pretty much a worn footpath, thank god for juicy five and well done to the dude who got the lead motorbike down there in one piece.
The area around Lammershoek was really nice to go through. I'm no geologist but there was a huge granite 'dome' just parking there which obviously has some interesting story. I also enjoyed seeing these odd 'UFO' type worker's cottages at Eikendal. I met the farmer's son later and he said they are made with a huge balloon; cement and chicken wire thrown over and then allowed to set. Must be P035warm in summer.
I settled my karma by overtaking a dude and giving him my mini-pump. The finish was reached without too much further event, it got very warm and I was racing to at least make the 1pm cut-off (seemed like a good time for prizegiving). I came in to a Pepsi and a handclap, but no boerie no braai no medal no lucky draw. I did really take my time though, 4:12 riding time, probably 5:10 in total. Janine and Phillipa were still around for a chit-chat (and the last bite of the last boerie!). Pity the small turnout didn't do the route justice, well marked and marshaled - this cycling club know their stuff. There was lime powder arrows/candy tape probably every 500m.
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