Reflections of a solo race across the Drakensberg
25 March 2021
The year that wasn’t
I entered the X-Berg Mini Challenge in January 2020. The X-Berg is mostly an unsupported race across the Drakensberg. The course can be done by bicycle, by paraglider, on foot, or a combination of these, as long as participants pass through a pre-determined radius around each turn point (TP). Cyclists had to stick to roads and not use the nature reserve trails that the runners and paragliders were free to use. For the cycling option there were two formats: the 200km Mini format, and the 400km Extreme route. I opted for the Mini.
It seemed a logical next step for me having done many of the 3- and 7-day MTB races in South Africa. I felt it would combine my love of the Berg and cycling, with some orienteering thrown in for good measure too.
Having lost my cycling mojo for a while after the Trans Cape race in 2017, followed by a shoulder injury in 2018, I had been inspired to push my limits out a bit after talking with a multiple Freedom Challenge rider. I felt that if I did the Freedom Challenge it would require some “warm-up” events to test my resolve and various items of kit I would need. X-Berg 2020 was to be the first warm-up. I felt 6 weeks of training would be plenty…
Looking back on that decision now, with my legs only just starting to feel marginally less painful 4 days after the actual X-Berg event, I am thankful that COVID-19 gave me another year to train for the event!
I was bitterly disappointed when the 2020 event got cancelled due to COVID-19 lock-downs, which commenced a week before the event was due to start. Photos from various athletes in the Berg during the week prior to the lock-down had made me particularly excited to be heading back to the mountains. This disappointment was made worse with the realization that all outdoor activities were going to be on hold for some time….
Maybe it was all the hours I did on my indoor trainer racing against other cycling avatars. Perhaps it was the mindless laps I ran round my house and garden in Johannesburg with alternating sets of push-ups, sit-ups and squats. But, at some point soon after we were allowed out to exercise, I decided that the inaugural Munga Grit would be the perfect post lock-down challenge. 500km in 50 hours. Crazy right? Well, my cycling buddies definitely thought so – not one of them volunteered to join me! Challenge accepted.
While South Africa moved in and out of various forms of lock-down restrictions, I put my head down and rode my bike. Sadly the 2020 Berg & Bush ride I had hoped to do with my sister and friends was postponed. The Munga Grit on the other hand, being a small event, went ahead. The trials and tribulations of that event require a separate story. Needless to say, I finished it, enjoyed myself, and had found my mojo somewhere on the dirt roads between The Cradle and Rustenberg.
As 2020 came to an end, I snuck in both the Cullinan2Tonteldoos and the Double Century rides. Next up, X-Berg 2020 2021.
During the December holidays I spent some time camping with my family at Monk’s Cowl. Between wonderful hikes and cold swims in the rock pools with my boys, I studied topo maps and rode sections of the original X-Berg 2020 route. On one such recce, while riding the track between Monk’s Cowl and Wonder Valley, I got thoroughly soaked in a traditional summer afternoon thunderstorm.
The year that was
Race week approached slowly… then arrived quickly!
The race route was confirmed at the last minute, but thankfully was the same as the original 2020 route which I had already studied, tweaked and loaded to my Garmin.
From the comfort of my work-from-home desk, I watched the Extreme athletes set off, envious that I wasn’t one of them. However, I was pleased that they afforded me an opportunity to study the MTB’ers progress between turn point A (TP-A) and the Cathedral Peak valley, a section I was planning to skip after my recce experiences in December. My suspicions about that section being very slow were confirmed when it took the Extreme event MTB race leader, Stephane van Rooyen, over 4 hours to reach nDidima from TP-A.
Early on the Friday morning I set off down the freeway, glad to finally be heading to the Berg to do a race 15 months in the making. I had a few parts of the route I wanted to scout once I was there, and this took up most of the afternoon before heading to race briefing and dinner.
By the time we had race briefing, I was comfortable with my route choice. I was even confident that the route could be done in one day, prior to the 10pm evening curfew, despite the nagging concerns I had around the unknown bit of track leading to TP-C. When Pierre, the race organizer, heard of my intentions, I should have paid more notice of his hesitant, almost incredulous “…. Well, it is possible…” retort.
After a delicious pre-race dinner at the Champagne Bistro, I headed to my guest lodge for a final bit of bike prepping and kit packing before getting some restless sleep.
Race day dawned with early morning mist and a slight chill in the air. 21 athletes congregated on the start line including 7 MTB riders. The usual chit chat about different bike set-ups and banter about my 26-er were brought to an end by the starting count down.
I rode out the gate of the Mirador airstrip property alongside Firoz Limalia, another solo and un-supported rider, while the Twisted Sisters, consisting of Molly and Rebecca, and the Mudflaps trio of Dixon, Jaco and Jan followed closely behind.
It was clear to me that Fizoz, another Munga Grit finisher who had then gone on to complete the full Munga, was strong. He seemed to effortlessly pull away from me on the steep climb away from the Drakensberg Sun to the Bergview estates. Thankfully he quickly slowed up saying he wanted to bring his heart rate down. I nodded, barely able to speak and my heart rate anything but controlled!
A little while later, after ditching our bikes, a short steep scramble on foot brought us into the radius of TP-A, along with spectacular views across the Cathkin valley.
We retraced our route back towards the airstrip, where I stopped to retrieve a fresh water bottle and some food from my car while Firoz started up the murderous hill that would take him over towards Bell Park Dam.
I took the long route – along the tar past The Nest, the fast dirt roads just east of Arthur’s Seat, joined the main dirt road that links the Cathedral Peak valley to the Cathkin Valley, before turning left onto the tar road leading to Cathedral Peak. This blissful tar section wound its way up past the Emmaus Hospital, and then on to the village of Mafefethini. This is where the “official” route would rejoin mine, and where I would have to return to after hitting TP-B.
TP-B was still 15km away with some severe ups and downs in the way. But right then I was more concerned with whether my route had been faster than the route the other riders were probably on. I couldn’t see anyone in front of me, but there were too many twists and turns to know for sure.
I eventually turned off the Cathedral Peak road to head up the Valley of the Pools to TP-B. My Garmin said I had been riding for 3 hours 50 mins, and it was 3 hours since I had left TP-A. This meant I was certainly an hour faster than the Extreme riders at this point, which was comforting.
I had to walk my bike up the unbelievably steep concrete section just before the turn point, but enjoyed the speedy descent back down to the beautiful fast flowing river.
Here I happily stopped to fill up my bottles, eat some food, and bask in the knowledge that there was no-one in front of me.
I didn’t enjoy the slog back up the same tar road towards Mafefethini as it was approaching midday and had started to get really hot and humid. Sweat was rolling off me and I was worried about finding clean water on the route ahead. What did lift my spirits was the sight of Firoz coming down the hill past me going towards TP-B. A quick calculation from when I had been at TP-B to where I was suggested I had gained over an hour on him (I learnt later that a navigation mistake meant he had actually missed some of the official route and had defaulted to a route similar to mine). Passing a spaza shop near the top of the hill climb, I decided to stop and replenish my now empty bottles. I was sad to leave the shade and the raucous revelry that was happening at the adjacent shebeen.
After turning off the main road, I headed South East along the fast dirt road towards Madaganene and the climb that had been bugging me for the last 24 hours. After a few kilometers I could see the ragged, eroded cattle track that marked my route up to a ridge which would lead to a peak called The Nest, close to TP-C.
To my great pleasure I met the Mudflaps on this bit of dirt, coming in the other direction, and gratefully took up the offer of some lovely cold water and ice from their seconding vehicle. I now rue the fact that I didn’t spend longer refueling with them while I had the chance.
The cattle track started off innocuously enough, but quickly steepened and became a series of rugged rocky steps where you had to carry or pull your bike over. I was amazed that slovenly beasts like cattle could traverse this track and forced myself to continue. I took a breather once I had summited the ridge and ate some food.
My maps, and even the Google Earth pictures I had seen, suggested that there should have been a pretty well defined path for 5km along the ridge to the turn point radius. Sadly this was not the case. I was able to ride for a short distance, before having to resort to intermittent walking and bike pushing. The cattle trail would continuously chop and change and for the most part was un-rideable.
Bits of the track towards the forested Bellpark Kop were rideable and made for a much needed break from the hike-a-bike suffering that I had endured for almost 10km. However, I had by this time run out of water and my legs were cramping intermittently.
I relished the shade of the forestry area around Bellpark Kop and was looking forward to the zig-zig descent that would bring us back towards Bell Park Dam. The views from the top were spectacular, despite the looming clouds. While enjoying the view, I also felt relieved to have competed a very arduous 10km stretch which had taken over 2 ½ hours.
As is often the way with these things, the route to Bell Park Dam wasn’t as quick and easy as I had hoped. Once within sight of the dam, the trail disintegrated into another steep and badly eroded cattle donga. More bike portaging! My leg muscles were complaining, and I still did not have any water to drink. After a shallow, but nonetheless wet, river crossing I came out onto a dirt road. A rideable road! What simple joy!
I took the dirt road back towards to the main tar road (R600), rejoined my route from earlier past The Nest and up to the airstrip where my car was waiting for me with cold water, Coke, and some left-over pasta from when I had left Jo’burg so many, many hours before. This was a longer route than the “official” one, but certainly easier on my trashed, crampy body.
Decision time. I was 9 ½ hours into the event having covered 120km. I was feeling shattered after the TP-C debacle and subsequent cramping. It was basically 16h30 in the afternoon meaning that I was more than 2 hours behind my planned schedule. I didn’t think it wise to ride the section between Monk’s Cowl and Wonder Valley at night, and certainly not in my current condition.
So, I decided that the best idea was to head to the Monk’s Cowl camp site and make a plan to bivvy there for the night. At least that way I would have done the horrible climb up to the Monk’s Cowl campsite, and TP-D would be nearby. I would also be able to access the resupply point which had extra food, water and batteries which I would likely need for my Spot tracking unit. So off I went, despite the almost audible complaints from my legs.
I plodded on past the Drakensberg Sun turn off I had so easily passed only 10 hours earlier. My legs screamed at me as I went up the hill past Sandy’s Cabins. I rested briefly before hitting the horrendous zig zag climb the precedes the Falcon Ridge Bird of Prey centre. My legs cramped again at this steep section which is about a 12% gradient. I dismounted awkwardly and stared discontentedly down the valley towards where my car was parked. I envisaged it calling my name in a silent siren song of despair and desperation.
I was woken from my reverie as a grey Toyota Hilux pulled up next to me. As the passenger window was wound down, a smiling Pierre, the race organizer, and some other Extreme athletes (who had finished the event) asked how I was doing. Badly. Couldn’t they see!
Their offer of food and rehydration at Pierre’s house only 2km further up the road was enticing. They then sped off and I envied the horsepower of the internal combustion engine disappearing up and over the hill. After what seemed an aeon, I hauled my tired body onto Pierre’s lawn and ditched my bike in the growing darkness and light drizzle. Soon thereafter I had my down jacket on, with some fluids and a delicious lasagne in my tummy. When it was obvious I was not going any further for the day, I was offered a spot to sleep in the lounge. Luckily a sofa was empty – I happily commandeered it for the evening.
While those who had finished drank beers and wine while recanting their stories, I sipped energy drinks and rehydrate. Fellow Mini event trail runners Dawn and Roxanne arrived in the midst of a torrential downpour, while paraglider Brandon came in somewhat later (although he had gone through TP-D). Pierre’s house had now become a commune with bedraggled, tired bodies, which he had ironically helped create! This brought a smile to my face as I tried to drift off to sleep on his couch.
Dawn’s alarm woke those of us who were still racing well before dawn. By 5am Dawn, Roxanne, Brandon and myself had quietly let ourselves out of the house and set off on our routes. I had to cycle up some steep roads behind the Monk’s Cowl campsite to clock the TP-D, then retrace my route back out of the camp altogether and along the tar road towards the airstrip. I knew that 2 of the trail runners (Jean-Pierre and Peter) had got through to Collin’s Cottage near Injasuti late the previous evening. This meant that they had only about 20km of running to complete the event. I had about 75km to go and thus was never going to beat them after my painfully early finish the night before. That said, I felt much better for the food and rest I had so fortuitously received and was riding well.
The incredible early morning light across the Cathkin valley as I hit the jeep track I had traversed in the rain only 3 months before was worthy of a photo shoot.
Despite being careful on the rutted tracks, I had a fall after about 15km which really reminded me that my weary body wasn’t firing on all cylinders. I was in the middle of nowhere, and thus needed to be cautious.
I skipped the short cut down another cattle donga and a full river crossing between two villages, opting instead for the fast descent down a great dirt road, a bridge across the river, and the tar road on the other side. My own recce of this particular river crossing prior to the race was confirmed by my later discussions with Stephane about this route, who suggested it took him over an hour to negotiate. I raced through the longer detour in 30 minutes.
The route, on a glorious tar road, took us up and over some extremely steep hills and into the Injasuti park region. This spectacular and remote part of the Berg brought back many happy memories of family holidays here when I was younger.
Once close to the main Inajsuti camp I realized that the turn point radius was only about 100m away from the main river crossing prior to camp. So, I ditched my bike and hiked quickly up the side of the nearby hill to collect the check point, much to the bewilderment of some nearby hikers.
Then I had the unenviable task of retracing my route back up and out of the valley after taking to opportunity to fill my bottles with crystal clear mountain water. I had ridden about 170km at this point and was feeling relatively good compared with only 12 hours before.
As I was about to exit the Injasuti park two MTB riders came past me going the other way, and I quickly realized it was Ernie and Jonathan from the mixed discipline team Bietjie Stap, Bietjie Trap. These youngsters had run the first 3 turn points before switching to bikes, and this was the first sighting I had had of them. They seemed close (about an hour) behind me. I needed to watch my back!
About 30 minutes later, while descending the brutal hill into and out of the Injasuti valley, I passed a tired looking Firoz. So the youngsters were in front of him, but he was still a threat lurking behind me. There was no time to waste and so I pushed on!
The route then took a devious turn uphill, eventually passing the radio mast overlooking the village of Silimangamehlo before traversing into some forestry plantations which marked the highest point for the day. Turn point F was ticked by traversing this area, and that really meant there was only a 10km dirt and tar road section left to complete via my route selection. There was a shorter route via a Cathkin trails MTB loop through some forests up to the local shops, however, given the recent rain and the state of my tired legs, I again opted for the longer tar option.
As I closed in on the turn to the airstrip and the Drakensberg brewery where the finish was located, I spotted a chap crossing the road about 500m in front of me. He was wearing a really large bulky pack and a light blue shirt. It was Brandon, the paraglider! Had he seen me? Could I pip him to the finish?
The answer to both of these questions was, sadly for me, no.
I was too far away and too tired to be able to close the gap. Brandon hadn’t seen me and casually walked down the easy gradient to the finish line. I came in 30 seconds behind him! Brandon had caught a bit of luck himself and managed a brief second flight which shortened his walk home. We had set out at the same time in the morning, and via different means, and vastly different distances, had come within seconds of each other. That is the beauty of this event!
Brandon took 3rd place honours in the overall event, placing 1st in the paragliding event. Trail runners Jean-Pierre and Peter had taken 1st and 2nd positions respectively much earlier in the day given their incredible runs the night before (around 56km of hectic trail running). I came in 4th overall and 1st on the MTB category
I would like to thank the organisers Pierre and Linda (and many others) for an incredible event that pushed so many of us to our limits. Also, a big shout out to the many sponsors without whom an event like this couldn’t happen. COVID-19 really put a spanner in the works, but we still managed to take part in an extraordinary event despite the extraordinary circumstances.
While I would like to say “I’ll see you next year”, my painful legs are still reminding me that this was no picnic and that there is no such thing as an easy ride in the Berg.
My X-Berg Mini route map
Total distance covered – 200km
Total altitude ascent – 4,150m
Total moving time – 13 hours 35 mins
Equipment:
Bianchi Methanol hard tail 26″ (one of my trusty old steed’s last big events)
SRAM XX 2×10 groupset
Revelate saddle and stem bags
SP Dynamo PD-8X hub paired with a Son E3 Pro front light and rear tail light
For more information about this event check out https://www.xbergchallenge.com/
Long Days Out 