I did this, I think for some reason I'd calculated the distance to the
next stop (Burgersfort) to be only about 140km. Even so, the day from
Palapye to the Limpopo had been a mere 100km and then I'd felt
compelled to set off early. Still, I did what I did and I regreted it
later.
Today was the first day I'd really be able to start saying I was
riding in hills and mountains the whole day. It started with a fairly
big climb up from Mokopane after which I'd follow the southern edge of
a chain of peaks before veering south down a long valley at the end of
which was Burgersfort.
The climb was pretty reasonable and any early morning chills I may
have started with were long gone bythe crest of the pass. Suprisingly,
given the size of Mokopane and the proximity I still was to it, there
were quite a lot of mammals about. Impala and Klipspringers were now
joined by Vervet Monkeys (the first non-baboon/human primates I'd
seen) and Rock Hyraxes. There were a few eagles I couldn't identify, a
few black kites and a fairly large and noisy bird with a curved beak
that looked a bit like an Ibis, but more heavy set.
It wad while climbing this hill that I first started to become aware
of a significant change in my fitness. Now I've never really been all
that unfit. I used to compete middle distance at school and cycled all
the time, at University I rowed and pretty much lived on the river and
since living in London I run regularly, cycle everywhere and do quite
a bit of mountain biking. Last year I rode up to Edinburgh and also
down to Land's End. So coming into this ride I reckoned I had a fair
baseline level of fitness, but now this was different. Of course some
of it was probably mental fitness too. I was now used to getting up
early, being on the road exercising all day. counting work outs in
multiples of hours rather than the short 20-40 minute runs I'd do back
home. In addition to my cardiovascular system the rest of my body was
also becoming used to what I was asking of it (or perhaps resigned to
the daily beating I dished out). I no longer had sore knees, an
additional pernicious issue in the dark days of Ghanzi, a further
strain on my mojo. Plus my bum and my saddle now seemed to be getting
on fairly well.
No, there was something else, it was my general level of aerobic
fitness. My bike is pretty heavy. Fully loaded in the mornings with
food and water it's around sixty kilos. I normally weigh around
seventy five, though the crash diet of the Kalahari probably shifted
me closer to seventy kilos or perhaps even lower. This means I'm
pulling close to twice my body weight up these hills and it should be
quite a struggle getting up the really steep ones, but I wasn't really
finding it that hard. Sure I went fairly slowly and stood up on the
pedals a lot, but I never felt like I couldn't make it. This was
nothing like I'd felt back in The Khomas Hochlands. I reckon I'd be a
bad bet in an arm wrestling contest, but if anyone fancies taking me
on at shin-kicking I'd advise they stick double rations of straw in
their socks. I felt strong and I felt like I'd be able to just keep on
going on and on, which is lucky, since for the forseable future that
is exactly what I had to do.
Concurrent with the change in my fitness was an equally dramatic shift
in my appetite. This is also historically one of my strengths, but now
a blazing furnace had been installed below my diaphragm, which
required almost constant stocking. My fireman had a busy job. On the
few occasions I ignored the hunger messages he sent, begging me for
more supplies and letting the fuel run too low this really affected me
quite badly. Endurance athletes call it bonking, not sure why, perhaps
it's something to do with the way your head starts bobbing about as
you weaken?
Breakfasts became key to feeding this fire and getting it started in
the mornings. A good bowl of porridge spread over the previous day's
embers could keep me burning for up to two hours. A proper lunch was
like a nice chunky log slow burning, biscuits were like medium sized
sticks or a shovelful of lumpwood charcoal and a can of coke was like
merely chucking a handful of dry pine needles on the fire, bright and
intense, but shortlived and prone to choking the fire. I'd found it
wise to try to leave this afterburner till late in the day. Switching
on the reheats too early was usually a bad plan.
So I crested the pass a hot sweaty mess. The road dipped down and
banked along to the left, hugging the slope
of the mountains. In the same way as yesterday the terrain once again
changed it's mind and reset 'zero'. There was no hard deck set for
this hop. I'd climbed quite significantly, but now descended even more
and this time I was also on the smoothest black stuff. This is what
tarmac becomes after a few years, once all the stones have been
pounded below the surface by years of lorries and hot sun, but before
any potholes have begun to appear. Matured for speed and a joy to
ride. Like a stooping peregrine I picked up speed and folded into the
tuck, carving across the mountainside the troposphere sreaming past my
cocoon of air I dropped towards the orange plantations in the valley
below. Twelve kilometers, fifteen minutes, two troops of baboons and
one wharthog later I reached the valley floor, cold and exhilerated!
The rest of the morning passed pleasantly. I was no longer afraid of
the stabbists. Perhaps they were more cunning than I'd given them
credit, but to be honest though I'd still have reservations about
pulling a wheelie through Hillbrow I reckoned there were unlikely to
be more of them out here than in most of the English countryside. I
even stopped at a cash point and withdrew money! ...no wounds.
I passed orange plantations most of the morning and just before midday
eventually gave in to the tempting bags of juicy oranges being sold by
the roadside. Thirty oranges... 10 rand! That's less than 85pence!
Cheaper than water.
Then the late start caught up with me. As the route veered right,
heading south to Burgersfort I spotted the first distance marker of
the day. Coverage from my Botswanan maps had run out past Mokopane and
switching to the South African maps (which would also guide me all the
way through Swazi and Mozambique) I'd discovered they didn't have
distance markers, this was a bit of an oversight, which I should have
spotted when selecting the maps back in Stanford's. As I approachd the
sign expecting something like seventy kilometers and a nice mid-
afternoon roll into Burgersfort I gradually became aware there were
three digits not two beside 'Burgersfort' and as It came properly into
range I read 123. Sh*t! This was really not good. I'd quite
significantly misjudged the distance and would likely be riding into
the dark again. Bad news. I'd only covered sixty kilometers all
morning and now instead of being halfway found myself with over double
that distance again to cover before the end of the day. Still if I
could manage 20km/hr average the rest of the day I should make it
about half an hour before the vampires took flight.
I had quite a job to do, but what a stunning stadium in which to do
battle. As the road banked right to face the long valley to
Burgersfort (the one that was 120 and not 70 km long!) I saw I still
had what looked like one hundred metres of descent before I hit the
bottom. It may not sound much but in open vegetation when you are
faced with terrain that far below, you can actually see for quite some
distance. By now most of the river courses I saw had water flowing in
them and as I made this final descent a fantastic view revealed itself
off to the right. A broad river meandered along its course with great
stands of trees on either side. There were quite a number of people
living in the area so sadly there were no Elephants at the water. That
would have made it just perfect. With a bit of imagination it looked
like it could be a long view from Jurassic Park or something out of an
Amarula advert. Great stuff!
Finally, reaching the valley floor I began the long haul up towards a
far off pass, which guessing from my map, was about half way along the
valley to my destination, so probably about fifty kilometers away. The
Landscape once again switched back to Tatooine and the wide vistas
stretched away up the long valley ahead and across to the ridges on
either side. There was a low serrated semi-ridge about a hundred and
fifty metres high, arching up from the valley floor in the manner of a
long serpent formation you might expect to see on a Skull Island set
from a King Kong film. This ran about a third of the way across from
the eastern side. It was quite stunning.
The fitness I talked about earlier really came into it's own this
afternoon and stocking the fire with fat cakes and oranges I was able
to maintain a good speed up the valley toward the pass. Considering
the gradient I made pretty good time over this section, maintaining
around 15km/hr. True this was not enough to get to Burgersfort in
daylight... but cresting the pass the gradient once again began to
head down, my average speed picking up to 30-35km/hr and the threat of
the pitch black slowly receding as I sped along, the promise of
daylight becoming ever stronger. The last hours were much like the
pleasant ride into Mokopane and I whizzed south past township after
township the sun slowly dropping to my right.
There was a worrying half hour as I found it a little difficult
finding somewhere to hole up for the night and to be fair it was
pretty much dark by the time I was sorted. However I'd made it. Whilst
noting down my stats in the evening I realised I'd covered over 380km
in the last two days, only just 20km shy of the dark days of Ghanzi.
But this time I felt great, there were no tears now, I was full of
energy and eager to escape the traps tomorrow.
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