Broken
After the excitement of arriving at last nights hotel to find we had a suite overlooking a pool, we were both somewhat reluctant to leave it behind for today’s stage From Gordon’s Bay to Villersdorp.
The sound of media helicopters buzzing overhead accompanied us as we set off.
The first few kilometres were a neutral zone, so no racing, then into the action proper.
Now I would like to say that Dennis and I were at the front pushing the world chamion for a podium spot but he was a bit quicker than us so we were battling at the back with two fat ladies, a man with arm and a bloke with a squeaky bike.
The first climb was an 8 km monster, rising up 500m to the Steenbras Dam, the n along the ridge line of the mountians surrounding Gordon’s Bay. So far so good. Dennis and I were riding strong and fast. That should tell you something. After a very technical descent over loose rock, jumps, dips and sand then up a minor mountain through the Nuweberg plantations things still going well. It was on this descent that Dennis’s back tyre exploded after he hit a rock. The Ferrari pit crew couldn’t have repaired a tyre quicker. Shortly after this hold up we approached the mother of mountains – Groenlandberg – it’s a 5km climb, excuse my French here (especially you mum – happy mothers day by the way!) but this a bitch. It was here about 60km that things started to go a bit pear shaped for me. MY legs turned to lead, my eyes started rolling, I stopped sweating even though the temperature was 29 degrees. My heart rate dropped and I couldn’t turn the pedals, my pace dropped to a crawl, my body rolling over the bike, my hands numbs, feet boiling, the air I sucked in through dry lips poisonous to my every move. I’m not ashamed to admit that I got off and walked as the gradient steepened. Dennis was supporive and helped, cajoled and bullied me onto my bike like a top team mate. Once at the crest the down hill gave no respite, deep sand huge rocks made holding on to the bars incredibly painful. We stopped for water, both of us drained. The cape epic had become a war of attrition, its competitors were like a defeated army battling forwards against all hope, the sun was merciless. Salt crusted out faces and clothes, mouths moved to speak but only formed silenbt curses as the hills kept coming, they were relentless, crest rising over crest, the dust silhouetted riders against the sun. This was incredible. Digging deep within myself I found a little something in reserve, what it was God only knows but as we clicked over 100km we both started pushing for the end of this nightmare. Riding through the orchards over the last 15km was and act of utter destruction by those organising this race, we passed countless riders lying by the roadside, exhausted, faces blackened from the dust mouths silently asking for help. The last few hills came and went at an agonising snails pace, but eventually we hit the tarmac to the finish, the sign said 1km to go, we had to make 10 hours to beat the cut, with jellied legs and lungs of fire we pushed as hard as we could over the joyous road (I can see why the pope kisses it on his arrival in a foreign country!) We hit the finish line after 9 hours and 56 minutes – of which 4 were trhe most tortuous I have ever spent on a bike. We both collapsed exhausted, broken but elated to have beaten, well not beaten, but at least it was a honourable draw with Stage 1.
Camping tonight! Bring on stage 2 let battle commence at 7am
Mum, sorry I didn’t get you a present but consider me surviving a gift to you from me x
March 22nd, 2009 at 7:22 pm
Well done guys, thats the longest one done so its all down hill from here. Well OK there are a few more hills. We are all rooting for you both back here in Blighty.
Andrew
March 23rd, 2009 at 12:24 pm
You’re loving every minute of it! Keep up the good work. You could have spent Mothers Day like me, standing outside Jade’s house looking at a gate!