3. RV2 (Britstown) to RV3 (Loxton)

RV2 (Britstown) to RV3 (Loxton)

RV2 - km408 - 20:00 - 07:00 - 11hrs stopped!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WP5 - km472 - 12:20 - 14:10 - 110mins stopped
WP6 - km542 - 18:50 - 21:30 - 160mins stopped
RV3 - km614 - 03:15

photo credit: Jack Black from Gravel and Tour

The stop at Britstown was long… way too long! Let me try and explain why:

When Harko and I checked in the night before, we were informed that all of the single rooms were taken and they only had double rooms available. We agreed to share a room as we had struck up a good repour in the short time we rode together on the way to RV2. During our dinner conversation, Harko mentioned that he was going to get up at 01:00 in order to ride out when it is cooler. I said that I’m ok riding in the heat and I wanted to get going at sunrise. After dinner he went ahead to shower and get ready for bed while I went to the mechanics to make sure my bike was being lubed and cleaned (if possible). After that I went up to the room and went for a shower which was lovely considering I was still pretty wet and full of sand after the hard graft in that storm coming into Britstown. This is when a rather stupid predicament raised its head: I had nothing to sleep in and I was sharing a room! Lesson 1 from earlier was reaffirmed, PACK A PAIR OF SHORTS FOR SWIMMING AND SLEEPING! I snuck into the room wearing only a towel, connected my electronics to the power supply and ducked under the sheets under the cover of darkness wearing my birthday suit. My spare kit was wet and drying over a chair and the kit that I had been wearing up to now was not fresh anymore, so my birthday suit it had to be. Needless to say it was a rather uncomfortable sleep, especially when the town’s electricity supply was interrupted around 22:00 (loadshedding!) and the single fan in the room was no longer providing any form of relief from the hot and humid room. I didn’t sleep much until my roomie got up around 1:00 and went on his merry way. Finally I was able to relax and I dosed off until my alarm went off at 6:00. I got up feeling ready for the day ahead, got dressed in my fresh kit, brushed my teeth and applied fresh sunscreen, packed my things and headed down to sort out my bike before having a light breakfast and some coffee. The bacon and eggs looked so good but again my bad morning eating habit prevented me from tucking in properly so I settled for some cereal and forced down a slice of bread with my coffee.

When I set off at around 07:00 I realised that I had spent WAY too much time at this stop, and I was rather annoyed with myself. But, I had clean clothes on my back, I had a relatively good night’s rest and I was otherwise feeling good and looking forward to putting in a solid day’s riding in my effort to get to RV3, which on paper was going to be a longish day dragging uphill slowly before navigating the famous Razzle Dazzle section just before Loxton.

I left Britstown heading west on the R384 before heeding my GPS’s call to turn left just outside of town onto a dirt road. The scenery changed to bushveld pretty soon and the riding was good on what appeared to be a farm road with several gates that needed to be opened and closed once through. I soon caught up with rider number 23 who was very obviously not in the same mental state as me. He was visibly struggling and I tried to keep him in my sights by waiting for him at the gates and letting him through and then catching back up with him. This went on for a short while when it soon became obvious that this was not going to work. I chatted with him for a bit and asked how he was feeling and he said it was a struggle but he will battle on and that I must go ahead, which I eventually did. I soon lost him in my “rearview mirror” but I couldn’t help worrying about him. The route made its way around a dried up dam (Smartt Syndicate Dam according to Google Earth) and then turned in a south-westerly direction on what seemed to be turning into more of a district dirt road. The riding was good, going slightly uphill on good road conditions. I was beaming along, the light breeze seemed to help and I was enjoying the Karoo landscape.

I saw a vehicle coming from the front which turned out to be one of the official race vehicles (white Toyota Fortuner with Munga decals indicating Race Control) which stopped to have a chat. It was Oom Floors (sweeper vehicle, who I would come across many more times in the next couple of days) and he asked how I was doing and we proceeded to have a short exchange during which I told him about about rider 23 behind me and that I was concerned about his wellbeing. Oom Floors said that he was on his way to Britstown and that he would check it out. We parted ways and I put the hammer down once again making good use of the road conditions and the seemingly helping breeze.

In the late morning the road turned west-northwest and by now the breeze wasn’t helping my cause anymore and the ambient temperature was starting to climb. I was grinding along nicely, every now and then looking down at my GPS to see my heartrate was surprisingly low and I was reminded of something one of my friends (who had successfully completed the Munga a couple of times, he knows who he is 😊) had told me in the weeks leading up to the event: don’t worry too much about your heartrate, after the second day of riding your body is used to the workload and your heartrate won’t increase too drastically. His words seemed to be true, experience is a wonderful thing! Nonetheless, it was a hard grind to WP5 and I was ready for my morning-zees. I started seeing riders in the road in front of me and I that was the carrot I needed to put in a big effort. My bum was sore, my hands were starting to take shots and I was hungry plus now I had rabbits up the road, let’s go!

I pulled in to WP5 like one of those World Rally Cars at a pitstop, my dust trail following me in! What a welcome sight it was: 3 tables under a line of big trees lining the road up to the farmhouse stocked with all sorts of wonderful snacks: boiled potatoes, bread, some boerewors rolls, more Super M’s and Coke. Even more wonderful was the mattresses on the shaded lawn; I grabbed food and drinks and found myself a nice comfy spot on one of said mattresses before just falling over backwards for a quick rest. The guys I passed on the road leading into WP5 pulled in and gave me some friendly banter about passing them with my e-bike, to which we all just laughed. We chatted away for a bit before I decided a quick nap was in order, but my stomach then decided otherwise: I haven’t taken care of business in 2 days and it appeared as if the board of directors needed an emergency meeting ASAP! I found a porta-potty and did the necessary deliberations with the board before returning to my mattress and was keen to lie down for a couple more minutes which I duly did.

When I finally looked at the time, I had once again spent way too much time at a stop and I promptly saddled up my steed and pushed on, leaving the lovely hostesses with a much deserved thank you.

WP5 is just a short hop (6kms) from Vosburg and my mother’s words came to mind; she had sent me a message sometime in the preceeding days that she was born in Vosburg (she must have noticed that the route goes past the town on the live tracking site). I stopped at the sign to take a photo or 2 for her and then turned back to my task of following the route to the west. About 5kms out of town I turned off onto the dirt road in a southerly direction and the slog resumed: rolling roads with a light headwind with me stopping every now and again to put on some fresh bum-cream or to give my hands and bum a break. The handlebar-ends that I had put on was not providing me with the variety of hand positions that I had hoped for and what was becoming apparent was that it was actually the reason the last 2 fingers on each hand had started to tingle. My hands weren’t in pain, but it was uncomfortable enough to notice but, I had my tunes blasting away in my ears and I was just focusing on the mission at hand. Every now and then when things got a bit uncomfortable and I couldn’t afford another stop I would remind myself of the reason for being on my bike at that moment and also recited my motto for the Munga: let me suffer so they (the animals) don’t have to.

Around a week before the Munga I had shared a very emotional conversation with Natasha around the rottweiler that was rescued from a 1x1m box – Natasha is the lady from the SPCA who managed my campaign, we had built up a very good relationship in the 9 months leading up to the event. I was in tears during our conversation and when she also spoke of the pittbulls that were so viciously burnt alive I almost lost it completely: how can human beings be so heartless? What is it inside them that makes them decide that to put a dog in a box for every moment of its life or even worse, how do you decide to take 3 animals and set them on fire while alive?

With these thoughts running through my head, the physical discomfort I was experiencing didn’t matter. I was aware of it, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to stop me from reaching Doolhof and getting home to my boy Quintus.

Thinking back now, this was probably the first signs of my suffering even though at the time I certainly didn’t experience it that way. I was able to ignore the pain and discomfort by thinking of the task at hand and nothing else mattered. I had enough mental fuel, I just needed to keep turning the pedals over.

The road was long and straight, winding over hills into the distance. I glanced at my GPS and the notes on my toptube every now and again to see how far I still had to go to WP6 as the afternoon sun was baking away. It was 70kms between WP5 and WP6 but the kms just didn’t seem to tick over quick enough and at 18:50 I arrived at WP6, better known as Pampoenpoort.

It was another amazing stop with nice pasta and some other cooked foods available as well as some lovely pudding. The barn adjacent to the main house was where the food was served and there was another outbuilding just a couple of meters away close to where the host was sitting next to his fire pit chatting away with his children and some friends/neighbours who came over to share the Munga experience. The separate building had been turned into sleeping quarters with shower facilities and mattresses scattered all over with bunk beds at the very back. I decided I was going to have a quick splash and then have a rest on one of those bunk beds and that I would push on to RV3 at around 9pm. I also needed to charge my GPS a bit as it only had a run-time of around 17hrs and it was obvious that I wasn’t going to make it to RV3 in that time. There was a tricky navigation section ahead and I needed to be alert without any unnecessary distractions.

At around 21:30 I left the wonderful people of Pampoenpoort behind me and set off for RV3. This was going to be a long night I said to myself, but I was ready, all things considered. I was looking forward to riding at night again, it really is much cooler albeit a bit eery if you don’t know where you are going. Well you do know, but you don’t, you’re just following a line on a screen and you can’t really see the world around you because it is pitch black. I had my head light on full beam trying to see what the world looked like around me while slowly creeping up what felt like a mountain side – it was indeed a mountain side - duh! The temperature started to come down quite quickly even though I was sweating away in my single layer.

At around midnight I stopped and put on everything I had in my bag as the cold was starting to bite: the dirty bib over the clean one I had on, long leg warmers, long sleeve top, rain jacket and both neck warmers/buffs. It was quite a contrast to the temperatures I had experienced earlier in the day, but as I was gradually gaining elevation the drop in temperature was not totally unexpected. It was also a bit more comfortable on my bum having put on the second bib over the one I already had on, so that made me feel a bit better. I always enjoy night riding, so even though it was getting quite cold and late and I was tired and hungry (once again), it’s just so wonderful to see the world at night on a bicycle. I also wasn’t riding with my music on so I could experience the world around me by listening to the sounds of the night and seeing the odd pair of red eyes whenever my headlight glanced over the side of the road, which I soon figured out was mountainside to my left and a slight gradient sloping down to my right with a valley not too far off in that direction. The moonlight was not too bright but I could make out the contours of the mountains around me and spotted the odd house with an outside light on off on the distant slopes. It was a “lekker” time with my senses being turned up to 11! I was tired yes, but I was enjoying being in that moment.

Around 01:00 I spotted a vehicle on the distant slopes some distance in front of me. I could also see the red lights above the white lights and I started wondering what the hell is going on and why is this guy driving around out here at this time of night? Did he take a wrong turn somewhere or what?

An ambulance pulled up and stopped next to me and asked if I had seen any rider in the last hour or so as they had a distress call for a rider in trouble, possibly suffering from hypothermia. I said that I haven’t seen anyone since about 21:00 that evening when I left Pampoenpoort. We tried looking at the live tracking website but as there was no signal it was of no help. He showed me a screengrab of the live tracking map indicating the rider’s position on the road in front of me at the time the screengrab was taken. The distressed rider should be where we were standing at that moment if he had stopped moving, but this was not the case as there was nobody else in sight. This had both the ambulance staff and me worried because if he was off the road with no lights on, it will be almost impossible to spot him. The ambulance staff decided to keep going and we parted ways, me going towards Loxton and them going towards Pampoenpoort.

Not long after that I crested the mountainside and it was all downhill baby! Finally some respite! The descent didn’t last too long and I joined up with the R63 leading to Loxton. Right, I was prepping myself for the famous Razzle Dazzle Singletrack; this was pointed out as being another strictly controlled navigation section with severe time penalties for missing the route.

Just then the ambulance appeared from behind me, they still had no luck finding the distressed rider, but as we were now just outside of town I suggested we look on the website to see if we could see him and low and behold, he was on the Razzle of the Dazzle only a couple of kms in front of me! The ambulance made its way back to RV3 and I was licking my chops for the navigation challenge!

A short hop down the R63 and there was a gate on the left which was not marked very clearly, but I eventually found it and proceeded onto the singletrack. The track consisted of low Karoo bush with very narrow spoor shooting off in every direction so I was paying close attention to the trail on my GPS with one eye while keeping the other on the trail ahead of me, dodging aardvark holes and thorny Karoo bush and whatnot. My bicycle light was on full beam and I was enjoying this navigation challenge albeit getting somewhat annoyed when I couldn’t see the spoor and then just deciding to bash through the bush as this was what my GPS was showing and I wasn’t going to deviate from the course. Coming back to redo this section in order to avoid time penalties was not going to happen so I had to get it right! Razzle Dazzle winds its way around a couple of above ground cement dams, through low Karoo bush, up and over a dam wall, back down a farm road and onto the R63 again for a short sprint and then turns back onto the low Karoo bush terrain for another short navigation section and then finally turning back onto the R63 for the final few kms into Loxton on asphalt.

Loxton was dead: no apparent sign of life. Not even the petrol station was open. I stuck to the route heading through Loxton onto the RV at Jakhalsdans which was only a couple of kms outside of Loxton on the R381.

When I pulled in at 03:15 it was a hive of activity with some riders coming in just ahead of me while others were preparing to leave. The friendly lady at the sign-in table greeted me and asked if I was cold and wanted some coffee to warm me up and something to eat to which I concurred; it was another magnificent RV with lots of good food and plenty to drink.

I was still buzzing from that awesome navigational challenge, my senses still turned up to 11; she was stunned at my apparent enlightenment and said that I looked exactly the opposite to most riders coming in ahead of me. I just smiled and said that that was super fun!

It had been another amazingly tough, mentally up and down, physically taxing, beautifully contrasting day of riding and I was just enjoying that little moment of success of having reached RV3; on paper I was halfway through the race! I eventually calmed down and grabbed some warm food and coffee (very nice venison pie!) before retiring to one of the many rooms available in the surrounding buildings constructed of sand stone, with modern facilities inside and beautifully manicured lawns outside. I just crashed onto the bed still wearing most of the gear I had on when I arrived, and dozed off for an hour or 2. I would come to learn upon my departure later that morning that this was indeed a guest house on a working sheep and game farm. It was another awesome albeit MUCH shorter stop…