Sandcurves

I've been busy today, so I thought it would be a good day to just tell a story I enjoy telling.  In 1995 by then roommate and I decided to cycle the 600 kilometers between George, where we were studying, and Cape Town, where we lived. 

I remember my first day at Saasveld, where I was going to study Nature Conservation.  I had figured out which room was mine, and after walking past all the khaki clad forestry students I found my room.  When I walked in, the first thing I saw was a nice mountain bike.  My roommate, Mark, was a serious fitness fanatic, and this was going to be a really good thing. 

Update:  The bike I had was the famous orange and black Nisiki bike that I bought from my friend Meiring - thanks Meiring for the reminder.  If you are planning a long distance trip, I don't recommend Nisiki. 

I hadn't had a bike in years, but soon got one from another friend.  I was fit enough, from running and just working out, but hadn't ever done any serious cycling. 

Anyway, one end of term we realized that we had a problem, we had a transport problem.  I had lent my car to my parents (they were in South Africa - and they had bought it for me).  We could catch a ride with each other, but one guy needed to stay longer around George, and needed some wheels while he was there. 

So, very cleverly, we decided to go to the pub and make our decision there.  Of course, that is where the best decisions are made, and we came up with a brilliant plan. The guy staying late would keep the car, and Mark and I would ride our bikes to Cape Town. 

This is, of course, no epic journey, but for us it was a big deal.  Especially for me.  Mark was more fit than me (much), and he was smaller, had a better bike and the right gear for doing a trip like that.  I had a waking great backpack, and took all sorts of things I didn't need. 

We set out from George to Mossel Bay with a headwind.  That day we only did the 60 odd kilometers to Mossel Bay, found a backpackers to stay at, and relaxed.  We were a bit tried, but didn't think much off it. 

The next day we set off again, this time doing the steep bit up to Albertinia.  The wind had turned, and was now a full on bergwind (strong winds in winter, blowing towards the coast).  I hadn't done much riding on hilly country before, and it takes some good legs.  Plus I had my massive backpack on to act as a sail.  I was finished very early on. 

But, I was also an idiot.  Cars would pass my by and stop to offer assistance.  I kept telling them to go on.  Mark was kind enough to stop from time to time and wait for me.  I kept pushing on. 

I had run half-marathons and things like that, and done plenty of tough walks, but never in my life had I fully understood 'hitting the wall', when all the energy in your blood has been sapped out.  I guess about 5 or 10 kilometers before Albertinia I decided to rest (I had already done a number of stops).  I sat down and leaned back and totally fell asleep.  I had dug into my bag, and by that stage the only food like thing I had was Aramat (pure MSG). 

Mark had got worried and came back to look for me.  He found me there, half asleep and with the finished canister of Aramat.  I told him I would go on.  We had basically finished the uphill, and had a better angle on the wind.

Mark road on again.  When he got to town he bought a chocolate and road out a kilometer or so back to me with it.  We got into Albertinia in good time (though I can't remember exactly when it was).  Though Mark was in much better shape than me, we were both really, really finished. 

We stopped at the first convinces store in the town, bought chocolate, bread, chips and a two litre coke each.  There was nowhere to go, so we went behind the shop, at the chocolates, broke the bread in half and filled it with the chips and ate that.  Then we polished it off with the coke.  It is the only meal that I can remember as clear as day for 15 years.  If that is a measure of a good meal, it must have been the best I've had! 

Now we both fell asleep, on our bag, behind the shop.  We were lucky that nobody stole our money.  We had no credit cards or anything.  We would have really had a problem then. 

Nobody stole anything, but I am sure many people stared.  They must have thought we were a couple of winos - I'm sure we didn't look to good. 

When we finally woke up, it was getting dark.  Neither of us had any idea the whole day had gone, and we had only done just over 60 kilometers! Cape Town was still far, were we going to make this trip???

We had a new problem now.  It was dark, we had a really limited budget, and we needed to find somewhere to sleep.  We started looking around at the various guest houses and stuff like that.  There was nothing cheep with any room left.  We were lucky not to get robbed in the day, but it certainly wouldn't be a good idea to try it at night. 

After a desperate attempt to find somewhere safe and cheep, we decided to go to the police.  "Sure" we could sleep in one of the holding cells.  We got taken to a cell with our bikes and everything, and then locked in.  When we asked if we could go out to buy some food, they said 'no'.  If you wanted to stay in a cell, you were locked in for the night. 

Well, it wasn't comfy, but neither was riding a bike hundreds of kilometers.  We sleep well again.  In the morning we got an early start - at 6h00 they kicked us, and all the winos, out!

My butt was super painful on that day, but otherwise I felt good.  We had learned to eat energy stuff like made now, and had plenty to eat with us.  On the first couple days we had mainly worried about drinking and staying hydrated, but food is so important.  We were both skinny guys, not much energy in there. 

Amazingly we made the whole drive to Swellendam in one day (I think it is some 130 kilometers).  We finally had the chance to shower (there was none in the holding cells).  We ate like crazy. 

We stayed at the backpackers lodge in Swellendam.  Usually they don't take South Africans, but if you are doing something stupid that makes a good story, they'll take you. 

From here we veered off the main road, and spent the next night at a friend's house in Napier.  Then we headed for Hermanus.  We were making well over 100 kilometers a day, and my butt was getting better. 

We were worried about the ride around to Gordon's Bay, but realized, to our luck, that the South African World Cup rugby final was going to be on TV.  It was hosted in South Africa, and, of course it was going to be an awesome match.  We had wanted to watch, but decided to use it to our advantage.  We timed that narrow stretch of coastal road exactly when the game was on, and we had the whole thing to ourselves.  We caught up with the highlights further along the way. 

We were feeling good and road all the way to Brankenfell, where I stayed.  The next day Mark road on to his house in Newlands.  We had done it in 6 amazing days. 

From then on I carried on doing a lot of small trips, and later (in 1997) did the ride to Cape Town on my own, and with proper panniers.  It was easier and I can hardly even remember the trip. 

Today Mark is still going out and doing expeditions like that, and travels the world to do it. 

I always enjoy telling that story, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as well.  Have you done something similar?  Please share your story. 

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