What If Today Was Your Last Day? The 10th Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon - South Africa
What If Today Was Your Last Day? October 2009
Introduction
The idea of entering the Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon (KAEM) had been mooted by a fellow Marathon Des Sables 2006 veteran, Graham Williams who had raised the possibility back in 2007 as the ‘Next Big Project’. As it was, Graham later dropped the idea and decided we should do the 2009 Paris Marathon instead. In January 2009, however, I got a phone call from another 2006 MdS mate, Alan ‘Prince of Pain’ Silcock who now had a South African girlfriend and had just entered the Kalahari event for October later in the year. He was calling to see if I fancied doing it as well. Having just started a new job as an IT Trainer for the NHS, I had to make sure I could get three weeks off. That done, I found a cheap flight to Johannesburg via Doha with Qatar Airways for £458 and sent off my deposit for the event that would cost 14,400 Rand in total (at roughly 12 to £1 this was around £1200). Now I had to find out what it was all about at Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon
The Event Overview said “The South African Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon, a unique race filled with adventure and determination, will once again be held in the beautiful and contrasting landscape of the Northern Cape’s “Green Kalahari”. The Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon is a self-sufficiency run held over six legs in seven days with set distances for each day, ranging from 28km to 75km. Participants must carry all their supplies, clothes and compulsory safety/survival equipment for the duration of the event. Overnight shelter in camps, and water, which is strictly controlled and distributed during the race, is supplied. The event goes way beyond merely covering 250 kilometres in extreme conditions; it is a challenge to get past what normal people would regard as crazy, and achieve one’s personal goals.
Each participant is required to produce a medical certificate prior to the event. A full medical team monitors the runners daily, and attends to all their medical needs during the event. Every entrant and their pack is inspected prior to the start to ensure that they are carrying all their compulsory equipment and that their daily food’s calorie count is sufficient to sustain them, as any outside assistance will result in them being withdrawn from the race. The management of controlling eating to energy used plays a major role in the success of crossing the finish line. The route details are only given to the participants on the day of registration, so there is no unfair advantage in planning. The route is marked throughout the course, and offers a great contrast for everyone, with landscapes from fertile vineyards to the rocky outcrops, the vast outstretches of the Kalahari Desert, with temperatures varying from mid 40 degrees Celsius during the day to single figures in the evenings. Interest in the event is growing throughout the world as the Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon makes a name for itself on the International Calendar of Extreme Events as a difficult, well-organised experience of a lifetime.”
This sounded like my kind of event. Having survived the killer 2006 Marathon Des Sables, I knew what kit worked, what food did and did not work for me, and that I needed to take a better blister treating medical kit. Over the next few months I researched and purchased any compulsory equipment I did not have. The list we had to bring was: Backpack (30 litre is suggested), Sleeping bag, Overnight & warm clothing, Head cover (Cap), Space Blanket, Insect net to cover face or a Buff, Eye Protection / Sunglasses, Whistle, Mirror, Torch and spare batteries, Knife, 2 x 750ml water containers, Safety pins – minimum 10, Antiseptic cream, Blister treatment kit, Strapping for chafing, Sun block lotion Toilet paper or tissues, Re-hydrate sachets – minimum 6.
In addition was the rest of what I needed: Sleeping mat, additional 300ml water bottle, New Balance running shoes, running shirt, lycra shorts, 1 pair toe socks, 1 pair woollen socks, 1 pair 1000 mile socks, spare shorts, gaiters, mess tin and plastic spoon, big plastic bag (in case of rain), toothpaste/brush, various container bags - e.g. Zip lock, sewing kit, camera /spare battery/ spare card, superglue (to stick Velcro back onto my shoes – the gaiters were velcoed to the shoes to stop sand getting in), a medical kit including Ibuprofen tablets, painkillers, foot plasters, gauze, zinc oxide tape, Compeed plasters and Bettadene ointment. In total my kit, excluding food and water weighed under 6 kilograms.
I also dug out my old food list from the MdS and started to buy the stuff I liked. This time I would not take noodles for every main meal. Instead I splashed out on Expedition freeze dried meals and made sure I had a different one for every (Spag Bol, Chilli, Chicken Tikka etc). We had to provide 2000 calories of food a day = 14,000 minimum. Mine topped out at 18,000 calories and weighed 4.5 kgs. Ready made cereal, Nik Naks, pepperoni sticks, cereal bars, dry roasted peanuts, Skittles and hot chocolate sachets made up the majority of my food.
I had another advantage from the Marathon Des Sables event. I had actually completed it and the KAEM was similar so I knew, firstly, that I was mentally capable of completing it (and mental attitude can count up to 50% of any success). Secondly, I also knew what training also worked – that is long walks of up to 26 miles carrying a full pack weighing 13kg. So I was out and about at the weekends plodding along footpaths in Norfolk and Suffolk getting used to ‘time on my feet’. I was still plodding around running events as well including three marathons.
The organiser in South Africa was Nadia Arndt who was very helpful answering any queries. Edward Chapman (aged 55), a Management Consultant was a two times Kalahari veteran and was the UK contact. He also helped with information. One of the major differences to the MdS was the small number of competitors. In 2008, they only had 20 entrants and 5 had quit on the first day due to the heat! There had been 731 starters on my MdS and 585 finished. The website said there was a maximum of 100 for the 10th event and I was pleased to see that I was about the 55th entrant. Over the weeks, the total reached 85, only to have people drop out. In the end, 73 competitors started on Day 1.
All was going well until late June when I was attacked by a herd of cows and a couple of them moonwalked on my ribs fracturing a handful. I was out of action for six weeks unable to do any physical exercise or carry the pack. I picked up again in mid August and did what I could in the last six weeks.
I also had to get my Doctor to give me a medical examination and fill out a form which was scanned to the organisers. I kept quiet about my ribs and got it signed. There was no ECG needed for this event. A Tetanus booster was jabbed into an arm as part of the event requirements. I got most of my hair cut off a few days before leaving.
September 30th arrived faster than expected and off I drove to Heathrow for the 21:30 flight to Doha. I had to leave my car there for three weeks and had discovered a new cheap parking alternative to airport parking called parkatmyhouse.com .Consequently, it only cost around £50 for the three weeks. I parked at someone who lived 10 minutes from Heathrow and he gave me a ride in. Recommended.
Thursday October 1st
Arriving in Doha, Qatar at 0625 on October 1st, there was a short wait until a connecting flight took off at 0710 to Johannesburg arriving there at 1435 local time. After around a total of 16 hours of flying, I stepped off the plane to hear a happy black attendant shouting “Welcome to Johannesburg, City of the Sun. If this is your first visit, welcome to the City of Friendship. If you live in South Africa, welcome home to the Mother City.” This was a different way to be greeted somewhere. Then he said “Have your boarding cards ready for collection”. Eh? Who bothers to remember where they put these once you have boarded a plane? After all, they are for boarding a plane, not for disembarking. People started to protest that they didn’t have them. He inspected luggage receipts instead. We had only stepped off the plane for 10 metres at this point. It wasn’t as if someone could sneak onto the elevated walkway and pretend they had just left the plane!
The huge passport area was empty. I walked straight to the counter and had a free visa stamped into my passport. I was met by Edward Chapman and his teenage daughter Charlotte who would be part of the support crew. Most of the International competitors had flown in to Johannesburg Airport which had just been given a face lift for the forthcoming World Cup in 2010. It seemed a vast, empty airport. We had all been booked into the City Lodge Hotel. A shuttle bus ran every 30 minutes from the airport to the Hotel about 10 minutes away. After locating an ATM to stock up on South African Rand we were taken to City Lodge. Edward said he would try and round up everyone in the hotel for a meal down the road later, and hit the hotel bar.
I checked in and found my roommate was Jim Groark, 46, who was English but had been a fireman in Dundee, Scotland for years and had adopted Scotland as his country. Jim was tall and fit. He had been in the RAF prior to becoming a fireman. He had completed a couple of MdS events coming 47th in one! Bloody hell, I thought, well out of my league. Jim was a great laugh, laid back and good company. He was there for the experience, not the competition. We would be roommates before and after the event. Fortunately, Jim loved a beer and a wine so we soon became drinking buddies.
In the reception area, I had noticed welcome glasses of fruit juice and a decanter of South African sherry with tiny glasses. My solution was to finish a fruit juice and use the larger glass to replenish with sherry. Since I had some free booze, I hung around the reception area and gradually met some of the competitors who had already arrived and drifted into the lobby. The event web site had a list of all competitors, photos and various details. Most seemed to have done a lot of events and were fast runners. It was strange to finally meet some of them.
They included Byeung Ahn, 36, a South Korean oil painter. I had spent a month in South Korea but Ahn spoke no English so exchanges were difficult. He carried a camera with a huge lens before the event and just kept snapping away at anything that moved. He had shot over 2000 photos by the time he left!
Someone else who spoke no English was Ambros Muhlbachler, a 49 year old postman from Austria. He would just smile and grimace and use body language to communicate. We nicknamed him 'Gollum' during the event after the character in 'Lord of the Rings'. He indicated that his luggage had got lost. All he had were the clothes he was wearing (a T-shirt and shorts and flip flops). We were leaving early the next morning so I wondered how he would get the required kit together, but there were three days until the race started so something could be sorted. A Hungarian introduced himself with a brilliant name of Geza Kiss! He was 34 and currently working in Reading, England as a chef. I cracked up every time I said his name. Other people were Howard Bailey, 53, a Learning and Development Consultant (developing online educational materials) who had 140 marathons under his belt. Jeez, I thought, I am dealing with some serious runners.
Then there was Martin Like, 43, from Wales who had his own online business selling equipment for endurance events such as this, called www.likeys.com. I had ordered some gear from his website a few weeks before and chatted to his wife Sue. She sent a message with the gear saying ‘Please look after my husband!’ He called himself the ‘Little Fat Welshman’. His business partner Matt Morris, 35, had also flown over for the event. Phil Howells, 62, was also Welsh and a business and running partner with Edward Chapman. Finally, Averill Turnbill was a 51 year old woman from New Zealand who was a dairy goat farmer/cheese maker. My mate Alan Silcock had flown over a few days earlier with his girlfriend Cass and they had their own accommodation in Johannesburg but popped down to the hotel to say hello.
That evening, 18 of us walked ten minutes down the road to an Indian restaurant. Apparently, the area was dangerous but we looked fit enough to look after ourselves. I sat at the head of one end of the table next to Martin, Jim and Averill. After the friendly and efficient waiter had done his speil about tonight’s specials, I ordered a seafood salad and a T-bone steak. Martin and I exchanged stories while polishing off a few beers with the meal. Back at the hotel, the sherry decanter had been refilled and let's face it, it would have been rude not to partake - so a few of us did.
Friday October 2nd
An alarm woke Jim and me at 5am. He reported that I had ‘snored like a trooper’ and kept him awake. Surely not! We had to have our luggage down to the bus by 6am which would leave at 6.30am for the Kalahari. The lobby had free muffins and hot chocolate and Martin and I hoovered up what we could.
On the packed bus, I found Alan and Cass and sat down next to them. The bus was designed to have triple seats on the right side and double seats on the left. I hadn’t seen Alan for a couple of years although we had spoken on the phone or emailed infrequently. He had quit his accountancy job at the start of the year and had completed the Gobi Desert endurance event in July 2009 although he kept underplaying the achievement by saying ‘You have done a lot more training than me’. Yeah right! Alan had originally been forced to pull out of our 2006 MdS on the 2nd day due to injury, but he had gone back twice to finish it in 2007 and 2008 which seemed sheer madness to me. So he now had three successful events under his belt to my one. They told me that they had recently become engaged. Cass had been living in England for 7 years. She would be part of the support crew.
Today, we had a long, long, twelve hour drive to the Augrabies Falls National Park. The main problem for me was two fold – firstly, it was a school bus so the seats were lower than normal which was not good on my posture and I had to stand up every 30 minutes to stretch my legs and revitalise my arse. Secondly, whenever we stopped, it was always at a garage and there was no beer available for replenishment. Jim and I were determined to have a good time. Breakfast and lunch were provided in large boxes – essentially the same meal twice of sandwiches, fruit, juice and yoghurt.
We left the hotel and travelled through Johannesburg morning rush hour traffic and skirted around Soweto. We left the region known as Gauteng via the N14 passing through Klersdorf and Vryburg. There were a couple of rest stops. Klerksdorf seemed to be a black town. Ahn, the Korean kept clicking away. I was a little more subdued, embarrassed to take photos of lines of black women lining up outside a child benefit support office for financial aid, but Ahn just walked up and pointed his camera. A black man was yelling through a loud hailer, though I couldn’t understand his language. A mobile disco was blaring out in front of some shops. The streets were bustling but I could find no beer for sale in the supermarkets. A South African on the bus pointed out that most alcohol was sold in liquor stores.
We had stopped a couple of times. My first impression of South Africa was that there were franchises everywhere. We had stopped at a Shell garage. Next door was a KFC and then a ‘Chicken Lichen’ etc. It could have been anywhere. We eventually pulled into a town called Kuruman and one of the crew said there were toilets in a bar. There were only two (1 male/1 female) so the line for the male toilet was rather long. Jim and I were so relieved. We ordered cold beers. Two others had ordered beers: Hugh Morris and Steve Saffin. They had driven down from Zimbabwe. I prodded Hugh’s stomach which resembled my own and said ‘I’m glad someone else has my physique.’ ‘No problem mate’, replied Hugh. ‘I’ve just been carbo loading for the last four years’. What a brilliant reply and from then onwards we were best mates. I asked him about his training and he said ‘Listen mate, I think I should have done a few more 5km runs.’ Hugh continued “We already have a team name “Team Mincer” because against all these elite athletes, we will look like a right pair of mincers.” I was accepted as another team member.
We were definitely on the same level. I asked how the Zimbabwe currency was doing. Steve pulled a note out of his wallet. It was a Fifty Trillion Dollar note. Jim and I cracked up. Steve said ‘Thought you’d like that. Now we are tied into the US Dollar and the South African Rand. This stuff is hard to find now’. ‘So what’s Zimbabwe like now?’ I asked, always keen to find out about a country I haven’t visited. Steve replied. “It’s God’s Country mate. It’s just that God has buggered off for a while” which was another brilliant line.
I managed to swallow a couple of ice cold bottles of beer while the long line to the toilet disappeared and was the last person back on the bus, Edward remarked ‘Bob, you’re incorrigible’. As the journey went on and on, the scenery became flat Transvaal with low lying vegetation. I got chatting to Stuart Wainwright, a 20 something Business Support Consultant. Originally a rugby player and fed up to injuries, he had switched to running and had been doing endurance events ever since. The problem with Stuart was that he liked to recount every race he had done in extreme detail and after a while, you wanted to turn him off and talk about something else non-running related. Hugh and Steve soon nicknamed him’ Captain Kirk’ (as in Star Trek), and every time he recounted a running event, they would pipe up ‘Captain’s Log…Star date etc’. I cracked up over this and wound Stuart up for the next week. He was a nice guy and a good endurance runner – just a bit too focused. Stuart had heard that I had previously completed the UK event called ‘Tough Guy’ in just a jockstrap a few times (in January!) and interrogated me about the event in detail.
I overheard Stuart talking to another South African, Tony, 62, from Johannesburg on the bus. Stuart told him about his dad who had been at a decent restaurant having lunch one day. On the next table, sat three well dressed black men. After the lunch, they followed Stuart’s dad home and managed to force the security gate off its rails and break in. Stuart’s dad had pulled out a gun and shot two of them dead. ‘I am so pleased to hear this’ replied Tony. ’We need to take the law into our own hands’.
Welsh Matt had a conversation with Tony later on during the week. Tony told him that he owned a flag making company and had two Indian Managers and forty black staff. This allowed him to finance a lot of travelling to do various endurance events. Matt asked “If you are always disappearing off to do events, how does the company work without you?” Tony replied “Everyone knows their job. If they fuck up, they get the sack”. I had heard him tell Stuart that he enjoyed travelling because he did not have to strap on a gun to go to work. Tony had revealed that his wife had been kidnapped the previous year. Matt asked him how he could live with carrying a gun everyday and living behind security gates. Why not leave the country? You can afford to. Tony replied “Europe is too soft and controlled. South Africa is still rough. I like that.” Later on, he said “I’m not a Team Player”. He seemed a bitter man.
Later on during the ride as people swapped seats, I met Colin Hart, a friendly 31 year old Johannesburg guy who was an Independent Supply Chain Consultant (whatever that was). He was new to the event but very modest about his running abilities. Stuart (Captain Kirk) leaned over and said ‘You ran the Comrades race this year didn’t you?’ The Comrades race is a famous 52 mile race, essentially two hilly marathons back to back with a strict 12 hour time limit. If you don’t make it within 12 hours you get nothing, and even get pulled out before then if you are falling behind schedule). As Stuart went into extreme detail about his own performance
Colin quietly revealed he had done it in 8 hours!
The bus rolled on through surprising rain storms to Upington Airport. This was an unplanned stop for the Austrian, Ambros to pick up his lost luggage which had been flown down. He grabbed me, smiled and pointed at his luggage and said some gibberish. Upington is the main town in the area, standing on the northern bank of the Orange River at the heart of an irrigated corridor of intensive wheat, cotton and most prominently, grape farms. We finally headed for the Augrabies National Park. Lightening strikes flashed over the horizon. I thought we were coming to a desert but the weather disagreed.
At the airport, I had picked up a free newspaper. Inside I found a curious advert entitled “Don’t Lose Hope – Penis Enlargements”. Underneath was a list of services provided by a Dr J Hakim in Kuruman
We arrived at the head quarters, the Augrabies Lodge which was a hotel with bar/restaurant around 6.30pm. It had taken 12 hours to cover 916km and the wind was roaring around outside. A few miles outside the lodge we had passed three runners with support vehicles. They had left Cape Town 7 days before and run up to 110km every day to the start to raise money for a charity. Yet again I thought, I am dealing with some serious head cases, though I remarked to Hugh, ‘Lightweights. They’ll probably drop out on Day 1”. I felt tired by the bus trip, yet they had already run 830km before we started.
The bar was open and so were our wallets and we soon forgot about the Cape Town runners. Flags of the 12 countries (14 if you counted Wales and Scotland) hung outside the lodge along with a large banner proclaiming the ‘Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon’. Our 251km route was on the wall of the bar, but it meant little to us – just a join the dots exercise. Other competitors and crew had arrived, mostly South African.
We had to line up for our room keys and get our roadmap of the route and ‘goody bags’. Hugh remarked to one of the organisers “I want to see different parts” (referring to the landscapes). I replied “Well, you’re certainly going to see different parts of me this week – especially my bare arse.” Everyone laughed.
The large goody bags were splendid affairs, sponsored by Namaqua Wines and contained T-Shirts, buffs, hats, sun cream etc but no bottle of wine! My bib number was 138. Competitors keep their numbers for life so if they returned to repeat the event they would get the same number. It was amazing to think that in 10 years, only 172 people had done the event (including this year’s group). What attracted many people back to this event was that it was very low key and intimate. There was hardly any publicity and it relied on word of mouth to recommend it. It was known as a well organised and friendly affair but also a very tough event. Of the 73 starters, at least 25 had done this event before which meant they knew exactly what to expect though the route was changed every year and was not revealed until two days before the start. This year the competitors were 40 South Africans, 16 from the UK (including 4 Welsh, 2 Scots), 5 from France, 2 from Zimbabwe, 2 Germans, 2 from Botswana, 2 from Tanzania, 1 Hungarian, 1 Austrian, 1 Canadian, 1 from New Zealand and a South Korean. There would be 57 men and 16 women. The youngest competitor was 25 (Stuart) and the oldest was a 65 year old woman.
Around 7.30pm, we were bussed a few miles to the Augrabies Falls National Park and in the dark, tried to find our allotted chalets. Jim and I were sharing again. The rooms were spacious self catering affairs with a kitchen, bathroom and air conditioning. There was only one problem. The room only had one bed – a large one. Jim laughed and said ‘If you start snoring tonight Bob, at least I can smack you without moving.’ As it was, we hardly spent any time in the room.
We barely had time to unpack and shower before we were back on the bus and ready to head back to Augrabies Falls Lodge. Two French competitors arrived 10 minutes late as we all sat on the bus waiting. They did not apologise. “Typical bloody French’ someone piped up.
A welcome meal had been prepared to be eaten outside in the wind under spotlights. There were tables for around 100 people. Once we had some beers, we all lined up to get served. It was a traditional South African stew called Potjiekos (pronounced poy-key-kos) or potfood in three legged cast iron cauldrons (the potjie). One was beef, one was chicken, and one was vegetables. There was also salad, bread and cheese followed by custard, fruit and ice cream. A few of us had several helpings. The meal was followed by a formal welcome by Estienne, Nadia’s husband. Around 10pm, the bus took us back to our lodges.
Saturday October 3rd
I was up at dawn while Jim was snoring away, and went out for a walk to the Augrabies Falls which were less than ten minutes away. I could hear the roar in the distance. As I walked past large boulders, I could see numerous rock dassies (hyraxes) which look like fluffy rabbit sized rodents but are apparently connected to the elephant (I wonder how they came up with that theory). Dassie means ‘little badger’ in Afrikaan and were what the first Dutch settlers named them. They rely on shelter both against the cold and hot sunlight. They wake up sluggish and seek out rocks to catch the early morning sun (there wasn’t much this morning). One adult would stand sentry and issue a warning cry in response to a threat, though these large rodents didn’t seem too bothered about me.
The Augrabies Falls is where the Orange River picks up speed and froths and tumbles into a huge granite gorge. “Roaring out of the barren semi-desert, sending great plumes of spray up above the brown horizon, the falls are the most spectacular moment in the two-thousand kilometre progress of the Orange River” (Rough Guide). The park’s mighty waterfall is still known by its African name of Aukoerabis “the place of great noise”. While quite impressive, it was hardly Niagara Falls but it was nice to have it on our doorstep and it was completely free of commercialisation. At dawn, I also had them to myself.
Back at the lodge, Jim was up. We had to be on board the bus by 8am. The instructions said “for transport to Dundi Lodge for breakfast, briefing and equipment checks. Bring your packed running pack including all you are running with (food, compulsory items, clothing etc). Make sure you have all your compulsory items”
Dundi Lodge was a small remote hotel only 3km away from the Falls. It was raining again. Rooms surrounded a small swimming pool in a square horseshoe shape. There were tables inside the restaurant area and outside under alcoves. Zimbabwe Steve and Hugh sat down with me as we enjoyed cereal, dough balls, and a fried breakfast with filter coffee. It turned out that they worked for a de-mining company, to remove landmines in war torn areas. Hugh had been in the British Army for 9 years, then returned to Zimbabwe and had invested in a new de-mining company. He was actually Steve’s boss. There were two other people from his company doing the event. They had come down together – James Thomas (34) and Fiona Steele (33) were both from the UK but currently working in the Sudan with Hugh and Steve. Fiona had a new boyfriend called Jason Bergmann (35) from Tanzania who had joined her for the event. “They have only been seeing each other for a couple of months, so this event should certainly make or break them” chipped in Steve. Hugh and Steve told me about their experiences in Iraq, Afghanistan, the Congo and Sudan.
We were discussing Zimbabwe’s problems and then moved on to the UK. By now Welsh Phil Howells had joined us and asked Hugh and Steve “Are you the sponsors?” They looked at each other and said ‘No mate, we’re doing the event”. “Oh, I thought you were from the wine company” said Phil. “Great”, exclaimed Hugh, “Now we don’t even look like we’re capable of doing it”.
Steve continued our chat saying “You’ve got to get rid of that clown Gordon Brown. He’s incompetent” I was explaining that the Tories were no better, a bunch of chinless wonders with no real or apparent alternatives to the Labour party. Phil chipped in “I ran as a potential Conservative MP in the last two general elections but failed to get elected”. Without thinking Steve commented “The only other person I ever met running as an MP was a twat”. We burst out laughing as Steve cringed and said “Whoops, it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.” Fortunately Phil saw the funny side and we were rescued by Estienne who asked everyone to assemble around the pool for a briefing.
All the competitors and most of the crew found seats or stood around the pool under shelter as the rain fell down. “As you know, it never rains in the Kalahari” was an ambitious opening gambit by Estienne. Everyone laughed. First of all, he went through the rules. These really applied to the elite runners. But essentially what you started with, you had to finish with (except the food, socks, medical stuff). There were various penalties for this and that etc.
He had spent the last few days marking the route with little red stickers every 300m or so, hanging off bushes. If there were track choices, small metal signs indicated the direction. He commented “Don’t stray off the path. If you don’t find a marker, don’t walk on. Turn around and find the last marker. You will not find the path walking on. We have had people walking 2-3 hours away from the track never turning back” “That’ll be the French” I said to Hugh. It was quite a long talk and eventually the checking procedures were outlined. It would be done in order of bib number.
In the rain, everything slowed down and I guess I waited over an hour to start my check. First we were weighed on some scales. I was astounded to weigh in at 117kg with trainers on. This was the heaviest I’d ever been (usually its around 112kg with shoes off). I was definitely the heaviest competitor by a long way. Others said they were heavier than usual and thought the scales were inaccurate. Then I had to show that I had all the compulsory items. Check. I had to remove all my food which was weighed (4.5kg), and then the rest of my kit was weighed (5.5kg). Check. I then went to the Medical team who had my Medical form which I had scanned and emailed and declared any medication I was on. I also had to sign a Medical Disclaimer form giving the medical team permission to administer any medication deemed necessary during the event. Check. This done, I was finally issued with a cloth bib number with 138 and ‘Bob’ on it and wished Good Luck.
There was also a tent list. Essentially, there were three large gazebos with low roofs and plastic floors that could hold at least 20 people each. There were diagrams to reserve your place. Hugh, Jim, Alan, Howard, Welsh Martin and I all signed up for the same tent, as the snoring contingent.
It took over two hours to process everybody and finally, it was declared that 73 competitors would start the event tomorrow. From the instructions, I thought that all our gear would now be removed and given to us tomorrow before the start, but surprisingly we could take it back to the lodge with us for re-packing. I had already repacked mine after the checking was done. We were given another packed lunch to take with us and the bus took us back to the Augrabies Falls National Park around 12.45. A brief tour by bus of the park had been organised for 1.30 for anyone interested.
I took Jim down to the Augrabies Falls for a quick look before we boarded the bus. The rock dassies were still around. We also spotted a mongoose and a couple of large lizards. Baboons were also around and I counted a dozen. I told Jim about what Martin had told me earlier that day. Martin was sharing with his fellow Welshmen and business partner Matt. Martin had seen signs warning about baboons and mentioned that they shouldn’t leave the door open in case the baboons came in and stole their apples and fruit. Matt, a bit sleepy had said ‘Why would the coons want our fruit? Wouldn’t they be looking for our money and jewellery?’ Then Martin realised Matt had misheard him. “No, the BABOONS you idiot!”
The rest of the park covers 184 square kilometres on both sides of the Orange River. The land is dry and harsh, with sparse plants typical of arid areas, such as quiver trees, camelthorn and Namaqua fig. The bus was less than half full, and we were driven along a sandy road for less than to 30 minutes to a lookout over a magnificent steep sided horseshoe gorge section of the Orange River. It was stunning. Ahn, the Korean‘s camera went into overdrive The rain had stopped and it was now sunny. The temperatures were rising and it was an ominous sign of things to come. Someone spotted a vulture on the rocks, Then we had a clamber around some hills and boulders for more views. Tiny midges bit everyone’s legs and arms. During the trip I met Bruce Grant, a 43 year old Canadian Analyst. It had taken him 36 hours to reach Johannesburg. He was a very good runner and a nice quiet friendly guy at the same time.
Back at the chalets a couple of hours later, Steve, Hugh, Jim and I adjourned to the bar at the main reception area and had a couple of rounds and more war stories. A pride of baboons were hanging around the chalets.
The bus left at 6pm returning to the Augrabies Falls Lodge for our evening meal. It was raining again so after picking up more beer from the bar, we all lined up for our food and ate inside on long tables. Lasagne was the main meal with salad with waffles and ice cream for desert. It was a great scoff. I circulated amongst the tables meeting other competitors. I seemed to be freaking some people out with my complete lack of worry about the event. While others packed and repacked, or avoided alcohol and late nights, I was completely relaxed and found all the South Africans and general ambience of the event very friendly. Jim and I were out to have a good time as well as finishing the race. I was looking forward to getting started tomorrow when I would actually feel focused on what I had come to do. I estimated that five people would drop out on Day 1. Everyone else I spoke to thought that there would be a 100% success rate.
The bus took us back to our chalets at 8.30. Jim and I went back to the bar with Welsh Matt who told us about his Australian adventures. Jim treated us to expensive glasses of red wine before we double checked we were ready for tomorrow and turned in for the night.
Sunday October 4th - Day 1: 28km (17.5 miles)
The Rough Guide to South Africa said of the Kalahari “While the Northern Cape has no shortage of dry, endless expanses, the most emotive by far is the Kalahari. The very name holds a resonance of sun-bleached, faraway spaces and the unknown vastness of the African interior. Kalahari means salt pans or thirsty land… .The Kalahari is characterised by surprisingly high, thinly vegetated red or orange sand dunes, scored with dry river beds and large shimmering salt pans. Although this is, strictly speaking, semi-desert, temperatures are searingly hot by day in summer and numbingly cold at night in winter”…. Permanent surface water is almost totally absent throughout the western arid zone and the Orange River, South Africa’s largest river, is its only perennial watercourse. The Kalahari is a lonely region of red sand veld punctuated by camelthorn trees.” This would be our environment for the next week.
We had to check our luggage onto the bus at 6.15am, which would be stored for the week. We were left with just our backpacks and gear/food for the next seven days. When we arrived, we had been given large 5 litre bottles of water and had to have our water bottles filled for the start. I was drinking the local water anyway. The bus left at 7.15 for the Khamkirri Private Game Reserve, part of the Green Kalahari. Khamkirri means ‘Place of the Leopard’. It took an hour to reach it and I was bursting for a pee having forced the remainder of my water down my throat before leaving the room. This was not helped by the bumpy, un-surfaced track for the last 20km.The Camelthorn River Camp had various tents pitched for the crew who would return here on most evenings. There was an official start banner in one section. Competitors hung around taking photos of each other and doing last minute checks etc.
We were asked to assemble just before 9am by the start. A new song written for the event was played (you can hear it on the videos on the official website of the event. Then a prayer was said and at 9am we started the first stage. As with the MdS, I decided to start right at the back. Hugh and Alan joined me. Most of the others ran or jogged off. We plodded out behind them.
I had two aims: finish each leg and protect the feet as long as possible by sensible pacing. Having completed the MdS event, I knew that my little toes and adjoining toes on both feet would take a bashing as would the balls of both feet, so I had tried to offset this by putting plasters on all the injury prone areas before the start. Two pairs of socks would hopefully cushion the feet and the gaiters would keep the sand out.
Unlike the MdS, there was only one cut-off deadline every day. This was dusk that descended around 7pm. Doctors could also remove you if you seemed to be stopping too much or not covering much distance for whatever reasons. Today was an acclimatisation day of 28km. The first day of the MdS had been the same distance and I had completed it in around 6 hrs 30 mins, so I was not worried about the time. Day 1 had two checkpoints at 11km and 20km and the finish 8km further on.
Hugh and I were soon left behind at the back. He was wearing a strange one piece beige overall and carrying a wooden walking stick which he never used it for support and just carried in his hand. When I asked him about it, Hugh said it was just habit from walking around his farm. ‘Usually I just use it to hit the dog when it’s got its nose down a hole”.
The Route description told us to walk out of the Khamkirri gates, turn right onto a main road for 600m and then turn left into a farm gate and head for the vineyards. Following marked tracks around the hills we were then to climb over ”a very steep hill” to Check Point One.
We ambled along with Martin Like who was a couple of hundred metres ahead, chatting, taking in the beautiful landscape and trying to keep a competitor in sight. I hadn’t expected to be walking through green vineyards in a desert. Support vehicles and a couple of people on Quad bikes eventually roared past us on the sandy trail. There were a couple of crew filming the event at different stages. For the first two days, if one of them stopped to film/interview me I would say ‘Team Mincer – Zero Defects!’ This was not possible after Day 3, due to the state of our feet.
What was soon apparent, were that huge swarms of midges/insects had appeared after the rain and were covering our faces, flying into our mouths and biting arms and legs. Some competitors had netting beneath hats. I had decided not to wear any head cover on Day 1 as an experiment – just a little suntan lotion, and to be honest, they didn’t faze me. I was used to them in South East Asia. Hugh and Martin were waving hands around and having loud personal conversations with the insects. The midges drove everyone nuts for the whole day. We wondered if we would have them all week, because if we did, the event would be hell.
As the heat rose, Hugh and I got into a decent stride, set our sights on Martin and caught him and then the three of us set off after the next couple of competitors further ahead. The sandy path had turned into a rocky trail through shallow valleys between barren hills with just occasional bushes and sparse vegetation and midges to keep us company.
Eventually, we reached the bottom of the steep hill and started to ascend it. We were amazed to pass five competitors on the way up including Phil Howells (prospective MP!) who was really suffering from a tummy bug and already looked on his last legs. We also passed the blind South African competitor Geoff Hilton-Barber (62) and his ‘mule’ (guide) Kobus Cronje (48). Kobus had size 15 feet. I had never seen such large feet. We would see quite a lot of these two over the next week when we passed them. We also passed a UK competitor, Patrick (58) who had dropped out on Day 1 last year. A woman was also finding the hill hard going. Passing the others worked wonders for our confidence and when Check Point 1 (11km) was spotted at the bottom of the hill, we felt as if our slow start was paying off and I still felt fresh. The temperature was still under 30’c which was better than the 50’c last year!
At the checkpoints, they filled in a form and our personal time cards which we kept as a double check that we had passed through every checkpoint. Limited to 9 litres of water a day, I had expected to get 1 ½ litres of water at every checkpoint as we had in the MdS, but I was surprised when our water bottles were just topped up. I had only finished one (750ml) so I obviously wasn’t drinking enough. For the first three days, when we saw checkpoints, I had to start gulping down the water to ensure I was getting more from the top ups.
After Checkpoint 1, we had to follow a rocky route through the hills, over a red sand dune and along sandy river beds to Checkpoint 2. I saw the biggest bird’s nests I had ever seen. These were Communal Weaver birds. Dozens of birds share the same nest which are hang in trees or on telegraph poles, made with huge stacks of hay/grass. The woman who was struggling on the hill had regained her composure and had passed us. The sandy track was soft on the feet and we had to walk across a vast flat grassy area. Hugh and I were motoring now. Martin had dropped back. He had checked his heart monitor and discovered that trying to keep up with us in the heat, he was over 150beats a minute and had decided to slow down in case he exploded! Martin had lots of ‘toys’. I nicknamed him ‘Gadget Boy’.
At Checkpoint 2 (20km), the doctor took a look at me and said “Bob, I think you need to cover your head. You are burning up”. I assured him I was alright. I felt really good – just a little hot and bitten up by the midges. After another water top up, Hugh and I set our sights on a couple of women in the distance. ‘Maybe we can pick those two off before we finish”. The flat landscape continued but the trail turned rocky in amongst the low lying red hills. No matter how fast we walked, we could not seem to gain any ground on the women who were obviously matching our speed. Hugh dropped back a little near the end as the Finish came into view. I finished in 5hrs 31 in 66th position, with Hugh two minutes behind. Martin, 10 minutes behind in 5:41, headed for a massage. There were a couple of female masseuse who would give you 20 mins for about £4.50 and you paid at the end of the event. I never needed one.
Fellow Team Mincers, Steve Saffin and James Thomas were only 7 minutes ahead of us, but we had not seen them at all during the day. My mate Alan Silcock had also taken it easy but still cruised in 5:19 in 61st position. It was good to know that the people I got on best with were all around my standard. Meanwhile, Edward, my inspiration had finished in 52nd (4:40), my roommate Jim was 22nd (3:16), Canadian Bruce was 19th (3:13), Welsh Matt was 17th (3:12), Comrades Colin Hart was 7th (2:47). Two previous winners, both South African, had finished jointly first in 2:28. Third place was been taken by UK (Welsh) competitor, Rhodri Darch. I had been in contact with Rhodri by email before we flew out to arrange travelling together after the event. Ironically, I never saw or spoke to him until the finish. The first two women had arrived together in 9th (2:56). One was a previous winner. Welsh Phil Howells had survived the first stage as the last finisher in 6:02, but he was far from well.
Alan was there at the finish and reported there had been a near riot earlier. Apparently, the tent plans had been ignored by the French who just set up anywhere. By the time we got back, people were just grabbing spaces where they could and there was not enough room, so another gazebo was being erected which us latecomers were given. Hugh and Steve soon decided that they would prefer to sleep on roll mats away from the tents so Hugh could snore undisturbed. Two laptops had been set up for competitors to have 10 minutes each and send one email.
At the finish every day, we were given a large 5 litre plastic bottle of water. This was to re-hydrate us through the evening, night and also to fill up our two 750ml water bottles to get us to Checkpoint 1 the following day.
I felt a lot better after Day 1 than I had after the MdS Day 1. My right heel was sore but I was blister free. I suffered from some cramping. The organisers heated water on a gas stove for people to use for drinks and meals, but one was not enough and lines were long. Another one was added by Day 3. As darkness fell, a couple of wooden fires were lit for heat and for people to cook meals. I had left my mess tin behind when I knew water would be heated for us. One South African was carting a couple of frozen steaks which he cooked on nights 2 and 3. Someone else baked bread in the fire!
Our first emails arrived on Day 1. The website allowed family and friends to send emails to the competitors for the first 5 days which were collated and printed out and I got quite a few. Thanks to those of you who sent them.
Around 6.30pm, Estienne called everyone together to get the starting times tomorrow. He announced that UK Patrick had dropped out again on Day 1, but would hang around with the circus all week. Only 1 drop out? So much for my anticipated 5. The lower temperatures had helped everyone this year.
The way the competition worked was that the slowest competitors would set off first and there would be staggered starts. Team Mincer along with quite a few others, was due out at 6am. The next group would leave at 7am. There was a loud laugh when Kobus indicated that it was going to be difficult for his blind mate Geoff to leave an hour earlier than himself, despite the fact that they had obviously finished together today. The idea behind the staggered starts was that checkpoints could be timed to operate for certain periods, rather than have the poor crew sitting out in the desert sun for up to 10 hour stretches.
Since it was dark by 7.30pm, most people were in their sleeping bags by 9pm. With the gazebos all linked together containing 70 people, it was difficult to avoid other people’s conversions. We had to suffer endless boring recollections of previous endurance events by South Africans (mostly prompted by ‘Captain’s Log’ Stuart). After an eternity of details, he then asked a woman
what her toughest event had been. A few of us all cursed ‘Oh for Christ’s sake’ and rolled over and disappeared under our sleeping bags. Couldn’t these people talk about something else other than running?
The weirdest thing about the South Africans was that some of them had quite posh sounding accents (eg ‘Lerch’ – see Day 2), what we would call the ‘Knightsbridge set’ in London – those yuppies that Princess Di used to hang around with. Secondly, the South Africans would say ‘Ya’ a lot in this plummy English accent. Imagine a bunch of Hooray Henrys all trying to out boast each other with running events in this accent. It drove some of us nuts. Team Mincer would walk around camp shouting ‘Ya’ to each other in mock deference.
Monday October 5th - Day 2: 34km (21 miles)
It was the first of what would be obscenely early starts. I had to be up around 5am in the dark, with a head torch, and, surrounded by sleeping bodies, silently prepare my feet, then dress and pack everything up into the backpack. Obviously a few others had to do the same. Hot water would be boiling so we could make tea or coffee. I would then pour water into my ready made cereal with powdered milk/sugar added.
The 6am crowd stood by the Start banner and someone set us off while the other elite runners all slept. I felt it only fair to repeat my daily MdS yell of ‘GROUNDHOG DAY!’ as loud as I could. (as in the movie where everyday is the same). That would teach them to keep us up with their stories!
There would be three checkpoints today at 8.5km, 17km, and 25.5km with another 8.5km to the finish. Hugh and I copied yesterday’s tactics of starting at the back and gradually wind up the pace. We had to start along a very sandy river bed between rocky outcrops and then clamber over lots of rocks, boulders and around pools of water in rocky river gorges. With no blisters yet, this was quite enjoyable and we had a spring in our step. So much so, that we caught Steve and James and kept up a nice pace as a team all the way through sandy river beds to Checkpoint 1 in 1hr 50.
There were two advantages to the early start: firstly, we could get in a couple of hours before it really heated up and secondly, the swarms of midges were reduced today. Welsh Martin had discovered that if we each broke off a decent branch off a bush and waved it around, it kept them at bay. We looked like a bunch of religious fanatics, waving a sacred relic around our faces. ‘I bet you’ll be selling these on your website soon, Martin, as an essential gadget for desert endurance events”. “Don’t take the piss.” he laughed “It works.”
I rescued someone who had got his huge floppy hat netting caught in a thorn bush, and was bent over unable to extract himself. This was 50 something South African, David Crombie. He was a well spoken psychologist and we thought for the first few days, that he was a bit up his own arse. He only talked to the elite runners and tended not to mix with the proletariat like us. I nicknamed him ‘Twat in a Hat’ but Steve said he reminded him of 'Lerch' from the Adams Family because he was tall and stupid. Remember the big butler with the bolt through his neck? The name ‘Lerch’ stuck and for subsequent days, there would be yells of ‘Watch out, Lerch is catching us’.
After Checkpoint 1 (8.5km), we followed a long straight sandy lane for 5km and climbed under a fence onto a track which took us all the way to Checkpoint 2. The 7am group had come past us strung out over the landscape. In the rising heat, a few people were already stopping to treat feet that were obviously getting a grinding from the endless sandy lanes. Springbok were spotted on a hill. These live wild here on the arid plains. They are medium-sized delicately built gazelle, with a pair of lyre shaped horns.
Hugh and Steve pushed the pace with James and I behind swapping stories for the first time. James, 34, had relocated from the UK to live in Spain, but was currently based in the Sudan working for Hugh’s company. He had been training in the Sudan but had trashed his feet a few weeks before, so had been treating them with mentholated spirits for the last three weeks to harden them. Jim had told me that this hardens them by bonding all 9 levels of skin, but if they crack, then the crack goes all the way through the 9 levels. It was a risky strategy. James also told me about his skydiving hobby with 550 skydives under his belt. He had learnt in Namibia and recommended the course.
We arrived at Checkpoint 2 (17km) as a team. It was really heating up and the medical staff said it was 38’c and going to rise. We followed the track towards the hills. Fiona and Jason, 7am starters, had caught us. Hugh and I dropped back while those four set off at a faster speed. Then I started to feel good and left Hugh, passed the love birds and spotted James ahead. I assumed that he was trying to keep up with Steve. I thought I could catch him and for the next three km, I tabbed at top speed but James was really motoring. It turned out that he had an Ipod and had some cracking music that motivated him to up his speed. It also transpired that Steve was actually behind us.
The result of this sprint was that I now had a hot spot on the ball of my right foot and it had also drained me of energy. It also was the start of the downfall of James’ feet. We had to climb a rocky hill from where, when we turned around, had a marvellous view back to the valley to see what we had just crossed. But I now felt sluggish as I climbed up the never ending hill with large sharp rocks that cut into my trainers and seemed to have an unquenchable thirst. James, Steve, Fiona and Jason had pushed ahead to the next checkpoint. Jim jogged past and told me Hugh was 10 minutes behind and feeling the heat. I must have walked very quickly to create that gap.
At Checkpoint 3 (25.5km) around 11.30am, I donned my headgear for the first time. The temperature was 47’c by the time we finished today, a big jump from yesterday. I also stopped to treat my first blister and remove a sock from my right foot. Usually, my policy had been to go straight through checkpoints with minimal delays, but I had to be proactive now and try and halt the damage. The other thing I had constantly remind myself at checkpoints was to eat a cereal bar or gel bar. I was carrying a few for every stage in my front pouch but would keep forgetting to do it. I found the others sheltering under a bush from the sun. Hugh had caught me up, pacing himself better and the two of us left Checkpoint 3 ahead of the rest of Team Mincer.
We followed the sandy track for the last 9km. We had slowed in the heat and it seemed like a slog. Later runners and joggers were coming past us. The Korean runner would run past with a small digital camera in his hand and would turn around to take my photo. You could hear mad Austrian 'Gollum' Ambros approaching behind you, because he would sing to himself out loud as he ran along. This happened every day they passed us.
I was feeling dizzy but Hugh was a good partner and kept checking I was alright. I tended to stop and take lots of photos and then had to jog to catch him up but he kept in touch. A small herd of springbok dashed across the trail in front of us. More stood in the shade on a hill. Steve and James caught us up and Steve then left us, finishing 10 minutes ahead. Hugh, James and I came in together in 6hrs 57.
We had finally overtaken the two women we had failed to catch yesterday and beat them by 10 minutes. I didn’t feel so good when I discovered that one of them, Anne, was the oldest competitor (aged 65). She had failed in her first attempt at the event and had returned to complete unfinished business. Her walking partner was a 40 year old called Poy.
Edward had finished in an impressive 6:15. Alan Silcock was just ahead of us in a comfortable 6:39. Martin Like had taken it easy, walking with Blind Geoff and Kobus trying to save himself. They all finished nearly an hour behind (7:50). Welsh Phil Howells had had another terrible day but got home in 8:18. You had to admire his tenacity to dig deep despite having some kind of bug. We had been chasing ‘Lerch’ but he finished a full half hour before us feeling very smug. Hugh said ‘You should have left the bastard in the thorn bush.”
Of the better runners, Comrades Colin (3:38), Roomate Jim (4:10), Welsh Matt (4:11), Canadian Bruce (4:31). Captain’s Log Stuart had finished in 4:53, and no doubt we would hear about every step later that night. The first three men and two women retained their positions. The winning time today was 3:08. Averill, the New Zealand woman had over done it and required a drip to revive her during the day, though I don’t know if she was penalised an extra hour.
No one had dropped out today which was surprising considering the heat. I had retained my 66th position overall but felt absolutely shattered and it took a while to recover from the ordeal. I felt like I did on Day 1 of the MdS. The laptops were set up under a tree with a lovely breeze and I enjoyed some cool air before treating my feet and sticking Bettadene coated cotton through my first blisters with a needle. I noticed that despite the zinc oxide plaster around my little toes, there were already blisters under the plaster. All you could do was dry out your feet and patch them up the next morning.
As we sat under the gazebos, it looked like a refugee camp. People crashed out, feet elevated and kit just thrown anywhere there was a space. We grabbed hot water for our freeze dried meals. A local goat made himself at home at the camp. Hugh had gone for a walk and found a water pool and taken a dip. Welsh Matt introduced me to Mike Nel, a 46 year old South African. He had the broadest Afrikaan accent I would hear on the trip. He was speaking English, but in such a strange accent, I could hardly understand him. He told me how he and his sons had tried riding ostriches. Mike had completed the Comrades event every year for the last 27 years but he was finding this event tougher than he expected.
We were told our starting times for tomorrow. It would be another 6am start for a repeat 34km stage that would involve some steep climbing and a warning in the route description “if you are nervous, do it with another runner.”
It was around 9.30pm when I heard a loud commotion outside and a lot of yelling. I didn’t know what it was about but it was getting louder yet I couldn’t be bothered to extract myself from my sleeping bag to find out why. Someone came back and said the local black tribe was having an argument with the organisers. I had a feeling this would get nasty and packed my backpack and waited to see what happened.
Essentially, there appeared to be two problems and I write this from second hand accounts because I never talked to the organisers directly. This was the story that went around the camp. Firstly, the organisers had paid a local farmer to allow us to set up an overnight camp on his land, and use his land for parts of the route on Days 2 & 3, but the local blacks said we were camped on an ancestral graveyard, and I think wanted payment. When the organisers refused, the camp was surrounded by the local tribe. Secondly, there was an issue over a new gate. When Estienne had marked out Day 3’s route a week before, there was no gate in one place. When he rechecked the course today, he found a new gate and took it down for the duration of tomorrow’s activities. The locals were not happy with this either.
So on the one hand you had the local blacks very hostile to the whole set up, and the organisers who were not sure what was happening but called other crew members based at the Khamkerri Camp site to get over to our camp in case of trouble. The situation was escalating in tension. I’m not sure if any competitors got involved. As far as I was concerned, it was not my problem.
Someone eventually called the police to mediate. Then suddenly we were told that we had 15 minutes to leave the site. Groggy competitors bundled together their gear, while the gazebos were dismantled under the spotlight of half a dozen 4-wheel vehicles. The bus had been driven over and we all piled aboard it (apart from James who got to ride a Quad bike back). As we were packing up, someone yelled “Save the goat! We won’t leave without the goat!” Meanwhile Zimbabwe Steve and I looked at Hugh and said ‘I bet they are unhappy because you probably pissed in their rock pool when you had that dip.” We were driven past a large crowd of irate blacks with a police escort. It made for an interesting experience. We were bussed back to the Khamkirri camp site where the gazebos were re-erected around 10.30pm and we all crashed where we could. No-one was sure what was happening.
Tuesday October 6th - Day 3: Originally 34km (21 miles) but amended to 20km (12.43 miles)
Estienne called everyone together around 8am with a brief explanation of the previous night’s episode. More importantly, Day 3’s route had originally been planned to go through the locals’ land and judging by last night’s reception, this was no longer possible. He told us that he would attempt to put together a make shift Day 3 route. It would be shorter than planned but would end up where Day 3 was originally designed to finish – by the Orange River. To do this, he needed time, so we were told that the day’s racing would start at 11am – just as the temperature was getting seriously hot.
It was good to have the extra time to get organised (repack, treat feet) in the daylight. James’s feet were already starting to break up after yesterday and I sat and plastered them up for him.
If I am honest, it was also a relief to know that we had a shorter route than the 34km originally scheduled, which looked like a killer. It would help save my feet for the long day tomorrow.
A large tortoise wandered around the campsite. It also made a change to lie on grass rather than sand. I must be going soft!
Around 10am, the competitors were bussed or taken in crew vehicles to the start over 30 minutes away. Since this was a makeshift route, I have no details other than my photos and the fact that we were told to follow the red markers and that there would be one halfway checkpoint at 10km.
Everyone started together at the same time. It was baking hot. I set off walking at the back with Hugh, Steve and Alan. Alan soon stepped up his pace and left us. We followed a long straight sandy trail with hills on the horizon. The midges were back and Steve and Hugh had buffs covering their faces while I waved a branch around. It was lovely scenery with low lying vegetation and short green trees. I remember that Steve and Hugh took a new approach which was to jog across the short deep sandy stretches that broke up the trail. Every time I stopped to take a photo, I had to jog on the flatter parts to stay with them.
We reached Checkpoint 1 (10km) and tall yellow grass surrounded our trail. Steve was feeling good and left us, eventually catching up with Alan. Hugh and I ascended a rocky hill with a splendid view looking back and then descended along a rocky trail. Hugh was carrying his walking stick as usual.
We then joined a deep leg sapping sandy river bed. We could see ‘Lerch’ up ahead under the blazing sunshine. He turned around to see us and picked up his pace. He kept turning around while we yelled ‘Ya, Ya’ behind him. Fiona and Jason caught us up, so we must have been motoring that day to be in front of them for so long.
The sandy river bed seemed to go on forever, but Hugh and I ploughed through it and finished in 3hr 30 mins. Lerch had beaten us by 6 mins. Steve and Alan had finished 10 minutes ahead of us. James was 13 minutes behind us, his feet already painful. The heat had taken its toll but the shorter distances suited some people: Welsh Matt (1:45), Comrades Colin (1:49), Canadian Bruce (2:08), Jim (2:14), Welsh Phil had shaken off his bug to put in a very respectable 2:37 and Edward (2:51). I was pleased to keep my nemesises at bay; Anne, the 65 year old (3:42), only 12 minutes behind me and Welsh Martin (4:17) who admitted the heat was ferocious and was saving himself for the long day tomorrow. Welsh Rhodri had really gone for it today. At one point he was 10 minutes ahead, but the South Africans leaders reeled him beating him by 1 minute in 1:33. Today’s performance moved me up to 63rd overall. It was the highest position I had all week. Unsurprisingly, no one had dropped out today.
The best thing about Camp 3 was that it was a few minutes walk from the Orange River. I was able to strip off and have a dip in the shallow warm green coloured river, wash my running gear and hang it on bushes to dry. The medical staff advised not to spend too much time in the water because it would soften the skin on our feet, but it was difficult not to have a soak and enjoy a decent wash. My feet had taken another beating, but they were still manageable. It was a lovely setting, especially when the sun went down.
I found myself in a gazebo with many of the elite South Africans. I was aware of my snoring and the whining of various competitors about the general snoring. I forced myself to stay awake as long as possible before I started my loud outbursts, but a couple of runners were making enough noise on their own. After being blocked up in the bowel department since the start of the event, I remember sneaking out at 3.30am to take advantage of the chemical portaloos that were a new feature of every camp. Small tents covering toilets were erected a stone’s throw from the main complex of gazebos. But nothing happened. I was too dehydrated or I wasn’t eating enough. We had been told our starting times for the long day and again I was part of the first wave at 6am.
Wednesday October 7th - Day 4: 82km (52 miles)
It was the day that everyone dreaded, covering the distance of two marathons back to back. I was up at 5am to prepare my feet and pack and it took so long in the dark, I didn’t have time to eat any breakfast. Edward stuck my cereal back into my pack. The first wave comprised of Blind Jeff and Kobus, Welsh Martin and Phil, Anne and Poy, Hugh, James and myself. Alan and Steve with their better overall times would leave an hour later. The elite runners like Rhodri had to wait until 11am to get going.
As we set off, I yelled ‘Groundhog Day!’ to make sure that everyone in the camp was woken up. Phil jogged off ahead of us. Hugh decided to call his wife on his mobile and ambled along at the back as he chatted to her. I was waiting impatiently for him, when he yelled ‘Get going Bob’. As far as I know, his feet were holding up well so far. James hung back with him. The others took off at a decent speed as a group.
The route map told us to follow the riverbed to the road and turn right and then ‘continue on this road for 12km’. It was not a surfaced road, but a fairly level sandy track flattened by vehicles that divided endless vineyards. Local workers would walk down the road towards us on their way to work. I would greet them and get a smile and get a greeting and sometimes an inquisitive look of ‘what the hell are you doing?’
I was walking in-between the main group and Hugh and James, when Welsh Phil jogged back. He had lost his route map (Penalty: 1 hour) and come back to look for it. Later on, having almost returned to the start to find it, he jogged back past me, probably adding two miles to his total. It was lovely arable scenery of green vineyards with the early morning sun illuminating the orange mountains on either side. The road surface was excellent and I gradually caught up to the main group. Martin told me that he had walked with Jeff and Kobus yesterday and they had a good reliable pace and he would stay with them today for the same reason.
I was feeling good. The sun was coming up but it was still cool. Hugh and James were nowhere to be seen so I passed the main group and motored on. Only Phil was ahead. I followed the track and followed the markers into a vineyard eventually arriving at Checkpoint 1 (12km). There would be 9 Checkpoints today. Welsh Phil was way ahead and it now felt strange to have to read the route map and make my own way with no-one to follow.
I followed a small sandy river bed that then took me along and up a narrow rocky track. My directions told me to follow the telegraph lines. I climbed over a hill and down to another dry river bed, where there were no red markers. I took a guess and followed my nose and somehow came across a marker and looked for Phil’s footprints. There were only one set of footprints so they had to be his. The route meandered along un-navigable terrain, and spotting the red markers was hard. It was both great to feel out front on my own trying to find the route and also worrying; if I took the wrong route, I could up ending getting lost or walking a long way in the wrong direction.
I was eventually led to a track that took me all the way to Checkpoint 2 (18km). En route, a support quad bike came towards me. The man yelled “You are cruising today!” I felt really good and wondered how long I could stay in front considering I had already covered 25% of the distance. Just as I left Checkpoint 2, I was surprised to have someone catch me, a South African in his 50s. He was complimentary and said I was doing great. Estienne came past on a quad bike. He told me that Phil had missed Checkpoint 2 because he had arrived before it was set up. We had been told in the briefing that if you were in an earlier group and intended to jog/run to arrange to leave in a later group because checkpoints would not be ready. I laughed. Maybe Phil was now miles off course and I was still in 2nd position!
Then the going got hard. I followed a rocky track over the hills following the telegraph poles and passing an old tungsten mine to the top of a hill. The track just kept on climbing and dropping over steep undulating hills. An occasional dry sandy river bed was thrown in just to keep the terrain mixed. A group of runners came past me. I was already tiring five hours into the day. As I climbed a hill, I heard a shout behind. It was Hugh and James. They had gradually caught up. Hugh was like a machine. He just ground out the miles at the same pace, day in, day out. James was keeping up, but his feet were disintegrating.
We arrived at Checkpoint 3 (28km) together. I already felt tired, but more importantly, I could feel a large blister on my right foot. I decided to take off my shoe and sock. Ashley, one of the medical crew lanced it and then plastered it. I was grateful but also surprised that my feet were already falling apart so quickly. Eager to get some distance under my belt, I had walked too quickly today and now I was paying the price. The question was, would they be any better if I had stayed with Martin? I left the checkpoint with one set of socks removed. I’d take my chances.
One of the nice things about this event was that the low number of competitors and the fact that we had our first names on our bibs, allowed the crew members to get to know us and remember our names. When they saw me coming, I would often get a cheer and a ‘Here comes Bob!” It made you feel special and part of a ‘family’ rather than just a statistic. Even the support crews in vehicles and Estienne on his quad bike would come past and say ‘How’s it going Bob?’ The ‘family’ atmosphere is one of the selling points about this event.
Now that I had Hugh and James as company, I felt better. ‘Team Mincer’ was back but with substantially more than ‘Zero Defects’. James picked up a stick somewhere to help support himself. From now on, it was just an incessant slog. Previously I had completed the 52 mile long Thames Meander in 2006 and 2008, but that had been flat and manageable and both had been completed in around 16 hours with no blisters. The long day of my MdS event had been cut to 35 miles due to the terrible conditions. This was my first real 52 miler in extreme conditions. I had estimated that realistically, it would take around 20 hours to finish this stage.
We continued up and down more hills and along another dry sandy river bed through a low lying valley. The sun was full on now and the temperatures were scorching. James forced himself to keep with Hugh. I would stop and take photos and take an age to jog and catch them up. We approached vineyards that were covered in netting to keep out the insects. Captain Kirk Stuart came past, looking good, along with mad Austrian Ambros singing to himself.
A long sandy road with small trees either side allowed us some shade as we plodded on to Checkpoint 4 (35.5km). We were half way there, but the heat was upon us and just drained me.
The Checkpoint lay at the bottom of a long winding hill which we had to climb for a mile. We then had to take a left turn ‘Please look out for this turn as it is not very clear’ said the instructions. UK Howard told me later how he had missed the turning and run an extra mile past it.
Fortunately, we took the right turn (or rather left) and followed another track to Checkpoint 5 (44km). We followed the ‘road’ to a large gate and stayed on the road to a farm house, and followed another long sandy river bed. Alan and Steve had left after us but eventually caught up and passed us. Edward came past us with numerous other later starters. He was hobbling with blisters but advised ‘You just have to shut your brain off and get on with it.” We continued on through a sandy landscape with tall bushes, trying to find the markers. Later runners would pass us with a supporting comments. They knew we had been going for over 11 hours.
Checkpoint 6 lay at 51.5km. By now, I was just walking the miles away, with no determination about time, just to keep going. James was doing the same but limping with terrible feet. Rhodri had caught us and reported he had a stomach bug and had taken ‘4 shits on the way’. He would still finish in 9 hours 39 mins.
We kept going, as others passed us, up to a farm house and onto the ‘main road’ (or flattish sandy road). The sun was dropping, but we knew we had a long stretch along this road. Eventually there was a sunset and we put on our head torches. In complete darkness, we reached Checkpoint 7 (59.5km) lit by lamps.
The road continued to Checkpoint 8 (68km). I left Hugh and James there for a rest. ‘Lerch’ passed me and asked if I wanted him to stay with me (I must have looked so exhausted he was finally talking to me). I declined. Hugh and James caught me and I declared ‘We have been passed by Lerch’. I was feeling rough. Depleted of energy, I attempted to find energy bars in my front pack to devour. The road surface was uneven and my ankles would give way and I fell over onto the gritty road half a dozen times in complete darkness. Hugh and James kept up a slow but remorseless pace. They told me later, they were in too much pain to stop and wait. I could see their headlights ahead but I could never catch them. At one point, I realised that my camera had dropped out of my front pouch and I had to go back and find it. I just felt drained of energy and knew I would not catch my team mates.
By the time I reached Checkpoint 9 (74.5 km), Hugh and James had already left. I could see their headlights ahead on the dark trail but it twisted, and fog was descending. Walking in darkness, I was following my nose, unable to see red markers. Above, the night sky was an ‘unpolluted’ carpet of stars, but there was no moon to light the way. Occasionally, support vehicles would pull up to make sure I was ok. I would jabber ‘My mates have left me. How far ahead are they?” I was worried that I would get pulled from the event.
It turned out that I was not that far behind Hugh and James and in the 7.5km to the finish after Checkpoint 9, Hugh was yelling to get my attention. I didn’t hear him. Estienne came past on a quad bike and warned me to look for the signs. Earlier runners had missed them and got lost. I saw a crew vehicle heading off to the left and was tempted to follow (they must be heading for the camp), but followed the signs which lead straight on and along a wide sandy river bed. I was on my own now with nobody in front or behind. I followed my nose and came across occasional markers in the dark.
Then I saw a vehicle. I wasn’t sure if anyone was in it. I was standing there, trying to guess a route at a pair of options. Someone jumped out and pointed down one route. The trouble was that there were more split options later on. I couldn’t see the camp so I didn’t know where I was headed. I was at that exhaustion point whereby I didn’t want to make a mistake in case it meant walking one step further than necessary. My feet felt a mess. I continued to follow my nose, convinced I was on the wrong route. At one point, I considered backtracking to the vehicle to reconfirm the directions but kept on and then saw some lights. It was Camp 4. I had finished the longest day.
Alan Silcock was waiting for me at the finish Alan was a good mate during the event and very supportive. It was after 2am. “I knew you would make it” he said and made me a cup of coffee. It had taken me 20hr and 14 minutes, 12 minutes behind Hugh and James. Alan had done really well coming home in 16:51. He had walked with Steve for much of the day who finished in 17:17. Like me, Welsh Phil had cracked after his flying start but still managed 18:53. Suffering from heatstroke, I think he had to have a long rest at one checkpoint. Welsh Martin walked in with Geoff and Kobus about an hour behind me in 21:11. I had also kept Anne and Poy behind me (20:49). But Lerch had left us standing (17:18) beating Edward (17:40). There were also some brilliant times by my elite mates: Welsh Matt (9:58), Canadian Bruce (11:08), Colin Hart (10:24), Jim (11:27). Even Stuart ‘Captain Kirk’ had excelled himself (11:53) just behind mad Ambros (11:20) and Korean Ahn (11:17) . The winning time by South African Dirk Cloete was 8:16 and would seal his victory for the event. The winning female time was 9:59 by the same pair who finished first everyday together.
I retained my 66th position, one position and 46 minutes ahead of 65 year old Anne and five positions and 2hr and 46 minutes ahead of Welsh Martin. Hugh and James had moved ahead of me to 64th and 65th just a few minutes ahead. Alan (over 4 hours ahead of me) was doing great at 59th two positions ahead of Steve. I was only 21 hours and 47 minutes behind the leader!
Thursday October 8th - Day 5: Rest day
In the dark, I had grabbed a space near a gazebo entrance and when I awoke the following morning around 8am, I discovered Edward and Geza Kiss were nearby. The first job of the day was to remove all the plasters and bandages from both my feet and inspect the damage. It was not a pretty sight. On the right foot, my little toe and the adjoining toe had lost most of the skin off their bottom and sides.On the right foot, my little toe and the adjoining toe had lost most of the skin off their bottom and sides. I had a massive new blister full of liquid and the existing blisters had spread across the ball of my foot around to the side of the big toe. My left foot was pretty much the same but the blisters were larger. I lanced all the new blisters, and left cotton hanging out of each of them. It looked as if my feet were made of thread inside and had a lot of loose ends. They were really sore. I elevated them on my pack and left them in the sun. Other competitors would walk past and grimace at the sight of them.
The camp was located on a private farm which had been used previously for the rest day. There was an outside shower and a flush toilet, though we still had our chemical toilets. Under a large shelter, the massage tables had been set up, along with the laptops and hot water boilers. Many competitors hung around this area chatting and eating much of the day.
It was around 11am and I hadn’t really moved when one of the medical staff came past and said ‘Anyone else need their feet looking at? We are leaving soon.” So I hobbled off to the shelter and lay on a table. The nurse took a look and said, “You have already done a good job on these. I can only see a couple of blisters you have missed” and proceeded to lance them. However, when she had a closer look at my right foot, she noticed some swelling and redness. “I think you have an infection” and wiped the area clean with antiseptic. Calling the doctor over, he prescribed three days of antibiotics to get the infection down. ”Twice a day and make sure you take them all”.
Later on, I found Hugh, Steve and James lying in sleeping bags away from the gazebos. James was asleep, cocooned in his bag. Hugh said “James is in a bad way. The doctor took a look at his feet and doesn’t think he be able to continue. When they saw his feet, they looked so bad, the doctor started to video them. They look awful.” This was bad news for Team Mincer.
I tried to just lie in the gazebo and generally keep off my feet apart from making a meal, sending an email or sitting and chatting to others. We got some printed emails from our friends. A list of results also made the rounds so everyone could see how they were fairing. Quite a few people were limping around, but the South Africans all looked pretty strong and obviously used to such events. Edward’s feet looked ripped apart as well but he just got on with it.
Estienne called everyone together for tomorrow’s starting times. I would be off in the first wave at 6am as usual with the usual suspects. It had been nice to have a day off and try and recuperate and prepare for the second longest stage.
Friday October 10th - Day 6: 48km (30 miles)
I was up before 4.45am, fumbling with a head torch. It took an hour to dress my feet and get my socks/shoes on. My feet felt like someone was sticking hot needles into them. I knew that I had to try and cushion the balls of my feet so I could keep going at a reasonable speed. I also knew that the little toes also needed protection, but my feet had swollen and they were tight against the trainers. Again, I had no time for breakfast or even a coffee. Edward tucked my cereal back into my backpack and said “I seem to be having a déjà-vu moment”.
With another long, tough stage, there were more competitors than normal in the 6am group. Steve and Alan had joined us. I saw Hugh but not James. “He’s out mate” Hugh said “He can’t even stand on his feet, let alone walk”.
There would be 6 checkpoints today at 7.5km, 16.5km, 21.5km, 29.5km, 37.5km, 45.5km with a final 2.5km to the finish. The starter warned us that it would be a very hot day and to make sure we managed our water supplies well. As we set off, I yelled ‘GROUNDHOG DAY!’ as loud as I could. “Not again!” emanated from a gazebo.
We started down a track to another thick sandy bed, turned right and continued up the river bed and past some houses. Steve and Hugh set a good pace and within a mile, I knew that I wouldn’t be staying with them for long. We had to walk over large smooth gray boulders which lined the river bed and were occasionally uncovered. Unlike the second day, when I had been able to bounce off them, my feet felt very painful walking over them today.
After we had passed some houses and their fences, Steve and Hugh gradually pulled away. We were following a rocky track and the landscape was of sparse vegetation with small sharp rocks littering the ground. This surface hammered my blistered feet. The markers were few and far between and I could not see anyone ahead. I followed my nose for over 4km and was veering off when someone shouted. A woman was standing on her own with a large can of water. This was Checkpoint One (7.5km) and it was yet to be set up. After she had signed my water card, and topped me up, I walked on. Two vehicles arrived behind me to start setting up a proper checkpoint for the later runners.
The track continued all the way to Checkpoint 2. The sun was up now in a bright blue cloudless sky and it was heating up the air. En route, Edward passed me and said ‘Bob, you’re unstoppable. You’re like a tank that just keeps on going”. His feet were sore but he gradually pulled ahead. I may have been unstoppable, but I was stopping here. My right foot was already thrashed. Ashley, my guardian nurse was there. She had repaired my foot on the long day. I stripped off my sock and let her treat my raw right foot with new plasters. I lost some time, but I had a long way to go today and you never knew what would appear on this route. One of things I did not note down on this event were the times I reached checkpoints each day but they were generally 10km apart and it took anything from 2 to 2 ½ hours.
After Checkpoint 2 (16.5km), the sandy track took me down to a road, where I turned left and followed the road downhill to a river bed. After a right turn, a small track started to lead me up a hill. The horizon was one of small red hills – some were small individual hummocks. Others were long low flat ranges that spread across in front of me. I had no idea where I was going today. Late starters were coming past me and complimenting me on my determination. A South African runner who loved my Groundhog Days said “You’re a real inspiration” as I climbed the hill to Checkpoint 3 (21.5km).
From Checkpoint 3, I could see the track that lay in front, which would take me all the way to a large mountain called ‘Speilkop’. It was wonderful scenery. Then the track climbed up around the mountain and eventually disappeared. A steep small gorge took over, descending back down the other side. This horrendous gorge was my worst nightmare.
Firstly, there was no path. It was just a series of boulders and rocky outcrops where an occasional river would flow after heavy rainfall. The rocks were murder on my feet and also bruised my toenails. The markers were difficult to spot, but it was really a case of just finding your own way down this obstacle course however you could and hope you found one at the bottom. The second problem was that since it was midday, the heat was ferocious. In the small steep gorge, there was no shade and no breeze. I was told later that it was at least 43’c in there.
Suffice to say, with my painful feet, it took me an age to negotiate the gorge. While I can walk up hills very well, I am terrible at coming down them because my knees are getting old. I was looking at my watch and my water and thinking that it was taking me twice as long as usual and my water supplies may not last. I had no idea how blind Geoff was going to get down here. I could see where to put my feet and I was still having trouble. It was definitely the nadir of my week. I had to dig in and think ‘don’t panic, I still have 7 hours before the cut off. Just don’t fall and injure yourself’.
The rocks gradually gave way to a narrow twisting sandy river bed at the bottom which was a partial relief to my feet. I joined a track that climbed back up around another hill. I had been going for nearly three hours since the last checkpoint and I still couldn’t see the next one. I climbed around another hill onto what the route description called a ‘road’ but was just an uneven gravel track. Two buildings appeared before me. If I was going to set up a checkpoint, I thought to myself, I’d do it here.
Sure enough Checkpoint 4 (29.5km) lay behind them. Here I found James sitting in a chair with his badly injured feet up on a box. He was just trying to stay occupied and offer support now that he was out of the event. Alan Silcock’s girlfriend Cass was also part of the crew here. She told me later that I had staggered in, obviously suffering from heat stroke and dehydration and babbling incoherently and that she was seriously worried about me. My only recollection is that I was so glad to have survived that gorge and get some more water. What I discovered at Checkpoint 4 was that I had lost my water card somewhere after Checkpoint 3 and it was probably somewhere in the gorge. This could mean an extra hour’s time penalty.
I seem to remember saying ’I’d rather take the time penalty than go back and try and find it”. Someone wrote out a new card and gave it to me. During the week, some of the checkpoints not only offered water but also ‘dousing water’. These were either tubs or basins where you could dip your hats or buffs into the water before putting them back on. This Checkpoint had a basin and it was such a relief to put a cold wet buff back around my neck. Jim had told me that the body’s thermostat was at the back of the neck. If you could keep that cool, your body temperature would be controlled. I also swallowed as much extra water as I could get away with. The Velcro had been falling off my shoes during the week, and finally my gaitors were no longer secure. Sand had started to get in and cause further friction on my feet. From now on until the end of the event, I was empting my shoes at every checkpoint.
I knew I was now over half way, and it was still the hottest part of the day. From Checkpoint 4, a ‘road’ led me all the way to Checkpoint 5 (37.5km). I only have one photo between the checkpoints so I was either too focused on getting to the next checkpoint or the scenery didn’t change much. Looking at the photo, it was another rocky trail so maybe my feet were preoccupying me rather than my camera. There were five vehicles at the checkpoint. The crews found what shade they could. The sun was blazing down even though it must have been at least 3pm or later. I can’t remember. The crew at the checkpoint told me that I knew that only Geoff and Kobus were behind me now – about 90 minutes away.
The crew also gave me some good news. My original water card had been found in the gorge, so I wouldn’t get a time penalty. The other good news was that the rest of the day would be a long a flattish sandy road used by vehicles. With 10km to go, I knew now that I would get back to camp before the cut off as long as I could deal with the increasing blisters that were now splitting beneath the plasters. I plodded on, as the occasional support vehicle came past and cheered me on. Had my feet been up to it, it would have been a lovely track to run along.
A large four wheel drive vehicle came past with some tourists in it. They drove next to me and asked me what I was doing. When I told them, they said “Do you want a lift to the next checkpoint?” It was tempting but I replied ‘I don’t think the rules allow it!” They said the next checkpoint “wasn’t too far.” Maybe not in a vehicle, but on tenderized feet, it seemed to take an age. I had the landscape to myself and saw some Eland or Klipspringer (small antelopes). I also saw a giraffe in the distance but too far away to photograph. Some runners had reported seeing a giraffe being chased by hyenas in an earlier stage.
I could see a main road up ahead with occasional cars. It was strange to come across civilisation again. After passing through a subway under a main road, the track continued to Checkpoint 6 (45.5km). The crew had been there for hours and looked washed out from the heat. So did I. I felt shattered. “3 km to go” they said “Just down there” and pointed to a track off to the left.
It felt great to know I would finish the stage and when a small herd of springbok ran across in front of me, I thought to myself that sometimes it was nice to do long stretches on your own to come across such sights, and that the landscape was simply stunning to do such an event.
When I reached the finish line, there was a big cheer. Alan came out to shake my hand.’ You had me worried there’ he said. The medical team were setup nearby, and I waited until one of them was free. “Do you mind just checking my feet please. They feel pretty messed up”. I took off my socks and the doctor started to remove the plasters and bandages. A video camera man started filming my feet. “You definitely have the worse feet in camp” he said. Once he had cleaned up the feet, he sprayed on ‘Friar’s Balsam’ which stung like a bastard. You can no longer get Friar’s Balsam in the UK but everyone said it is the best solution for bad feet. “You need to keep these aired” he said.
“Here is a tip for next time. Change your socks at every checkpoint and powder your feet”. “I’d be weighed down by socks” I replied. “Your socks can hang off the back of your pack and dry in between checkpoints. This week your feet have drowned in moisture from damp socks. This breaks apart the skin. Keeping your feet as dry as possible will reduce the damage”. This was useful information but too late now. My feet were wrecked. I had run out of medical supplies and the doctor handed me numerous strips of plaster for my final preparations tomorrow.
I found somewhere to crash in a gazebo. It was already dark. After getting some hot water to eat my main meal, I found Hugh and Steve and we discussed the day. “I thought I’d never get through that bloody gorge” Hugh commented. “That was a bastard, especially in the heat.”
Ninety minutes after I had arrived, there was a yell of “Geoff and Kobus are here.” Many of the competitors started a hand clap that grew in crescendo as they neared the finish line. Geoff got emotional. He had survived the stage. They had missed the deadline of dusk, but since the steep dry river gorge had been tough enough for normal sighted people, the organisers felt that Geoff’s performance was outstanding. Kobus had to take credit as well. He had talked Geoff down every step. It had taken its toll. Geoff had fallen a few times and needed four stitches in his leg at the post gorge checkpoint.
I had finished in 12hrs 10 mins – about an hour before dusk and an hour after Anne and Poy. They moved ahead of me on the listings in joint 64th position. Only Geoff and Kobus were behind me (13:45). Hugh and Steve had come in together (10:45) an hour after Alan (9:48) who’d had a good day even beating Edward whose feet were obviously sore. But Lerch (9:37) had beaten all of us apart from Welsh Phil who had rallied after the long day (9:26). Welsh Martin had also had a good day coming in an hour ahead of me (11:15). He had maintained all along that he tended to pace himself earlier in competitions and then start to catch up and pass in the latter stages. But he was still two hours behind me and there was only one stage left.
It was not surprising to see that someone else had dropped out, a Frenchman called Patrick. 70 remained in the competition. Of the elite runners Rhodri (4:26) and Welsh Matt (5:11) had astounding times considering that the event leader Dirk finished first in 4:11. Comrades Colin (5:33), Canadian Bruce (5:56) and Jim (6:31) also had also achieved great times today.
Almost as soon as they were back, Estienne read out the final departure times. Geoff, Kobus and Welsh Martin would be leaving at 5.30am. I would be departing at 6am and Hugh was off at 6.15am. The idea on the final day was that everyone was given enough time to hopefully reach the finish before the winner came in. The leader would leave last.
Saturday October 10th - Day 7: 25km (15.5 miles)
It was a repeat of yesterday. I was up before 4.45am, fumbling with a head torch. It took an hour to dress my feet and get my socks/shoes on. My feet looked a mess with skin just hanging off the balls of my feet and toes and red raw patches underneath. I covered up what I could, but I could hardly walk on them. With all my food gone, my pack was now under 6kg.
After Geoff, Kobus and Welsh Martin had left in the dark at 5.30am, I even had time to swallow some cereal this morning. Today’s final stage would have two Checkpoints at 7.5km and 16km with a final 9km to the finish. Few people were up yet. The competitors were staggered to leave over about five hours.
At 6am, day break, I hobbled away from the start with a final ‘GROUNDHOG DAY!’ This was not good. I was crawling along and every step was incredibly painful. I wondered what would happen if I tried jogging. It couldn’t be any worse. I soon found that the pain in my feet was actually reduced. I set off down a rocky track towards some rugged mountains which were being illuminated by the early morning sun. There were lovely views down to the green vineyards in the valley between the orange hills. The track took me down at a comfortable gradient all the way to a road, where I turned right. I was amazed that no one had caught me yet. On the road, I was eventually passed separately by Hugh, Welsh Phil and Alan who were all jogging. At Checkpoint 1 (7.5k), there was a big cheer for me. I had jogged all the way.
So far, especially in the cool air, I was feeling pretty good. There were less than 20km to the finish. Then I was directed away from the vineyards towards the Orange River valley. To get there, I had to clamber up and down some seriously steep sand gullies and then follow sandy trails through groups of short bushy trees. Up ahead, I could hear baboons calling to each other and then another strange booming noise. It was Geoff and Kobus answering the baboons. It felt good to catch them. I felt as if I was making progress.
The problem was that yet again I had to make my way along the side of a river gorge. The terrain was variable – long stretches of hard grey rocks, some of which had to be climbed over to get around vast chasms in the sand that had been created by flash floods. In other places, I had to slide down sandy gullies or try and jump across and. On three occasions, the sandy banks gave way and I collapsed down in piles of sand and also took a chunk out of my skin on a rock. The sandy channels banks were sometimes deeper than 12feet. Unable to climb out, I would then have to try and find an exit. Meanwhile I was still trying to follow the red markers which were very sporadic. Occasionally, other competitors would come past me finding their own routes.
This stage of the race was apparently only 3.3km, but it seemed a lot longer and was another killer section that taxed the body, and tested mental patience. At the same time, there would be glimpses to my left of the majestic Orange River which was like a millpond. Sometimes there were wonderful reflections of the hills in the calm water.
The route directions said “At the river bed turn right up the gorge (the bank down to the river bed is very steep – be careful going down)”. The river valley went on, but I saw a gorge to my right and a competitor heading towards it. I followed that person. No-one else was around. “Continue up the rocky gorge for 1.3km and then turn left up a sandy river bed”.
Ironically, the earlier jogging had improved my feet which were not as sore. I was able to walk up the rocky gorge and then tackle the deep sandy river bed that sapped the leg muscles. A few competitors came past. At the left turning, Alan Silcock had appeared. Eh? He had passed me hours ago. He explained that he had seen red markers continuing down the river valley and had followed them. When he reached the river at the end of the valley and could go no further, he realised he had missed the right turning. He had lost 40 minutes thrashing around the vegetation trying to backtrack and find out where he had gone wrong. He was not impressed. Others had done the same – Welsh Phil, Welsh Martin, and Geza Kiss. Alan walked on, trying to make up time.
I plodded on, aware that I was nearly out of water. It had been humid in the river gorge and slow progress and I had been swallowing more water than normal. I realised that I would run out of water before the next checkpoint for the first time that week. Then a few minutes later, I saw a vehicle. Was this the checkpoint? Not according to my route description. It turned out to be an extra “unofficial” water stop. The organisers had realised that the humidity had increased and competitors were running out of water. That was lucky I thought.
Apart from the terrible gorge section yesterday, the stage between Checkpoint 1 and 2 today seemed the longest slog of the week. It took forever, especially walking in deep sand. A quad bike approached and the crew member asked “Have you seen your drinking buddy Hugh?” I told him that I had last seen him just before Checkpoint 1. “Well, he hasn’t reached Checkpoint 2”. “He must have taken the wrong path like the others” I replied. The crew member looked worried. “He must be out of water by now. Everyone is looking for him”.
Quite a few competitors were jogging/walking past by now all yelling support, as a sandy trail took us across a flat area and then to a long hill. I heard a shout behind. It was Hugh. He was back and severely pissed off “Whoever laid those markers needs shooting.” Later on, the organisers admitted that they had no explanation for twin sets of markers. Estienne laughed “Baboons have been known to move them”. “Baboons… my arse” cursed Hugh.
Checkpoint 2 (16km) lay above us behind some rocks. Ashley peered over, saw me and yelled “Bob!” Hugh and I came in together. I told Ashley that my feet were holding up but I could feel new blisters. Removing the sock, she redressed my right foot for the final stage of 9km. She also grabbed my camera and took a photo of us together. As I left the checkpoint she yelled “Pick up the pace Bob” so I started jogging again.
From now on, we had to follow a twisting, undulating ‘road’ which was really an un-surfaced track for vehicles. More competitors came past, each giving me congratulations and said that a cold beer awaited us at the end. Geza Kiss came past. He was more pissed off at getting lost than Alan and Hugh. “I have had enough. I am not running again.” I was walking and jogging but never caught anyone up. I could see runners in the distance. Jim came past and posed for a photo. Canadian Bruce came past and panted ‘only 4km to go.’
Eventually, I could see the lush green vegetation ahead and knew they were the trees around our chalets. I had to cross over a small river on a rickety wooden bridge while a cameraman stood and filmed it. Then I jogged along a sealed road, through a shallow ford and finally saw the flags leading to the finish. Alan was there to shake my hand as I approached the finish line and crowds. A tape had been raised which I crossed with a final ‘Groundhog day!” It was finally over. I had completed the Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon. My initial comment (see Day 7 video on website) was "I hate this bloody sport". My next comment of “Now. Where’s my beer?” was edited out.
It was such a relief to finish, even if my time was an appalling 6 hrs 28. Most competitors had arrived before me including Rhodri (2:19), Welsh Matt (2:28), Colin (2:39), Canadian Bruce (2:55), Jim (2:58), Steve (4:41), Anne (5:49), Edward (4:51), Alan (4:57), Hugh (4:57) and Lerch (5:05). Most importantly, Welsh Martin was only an hour ahead of me (5:32).
Martin came over with a beer in his hand and tried to strangle me. “You bastard” he laughed, as he then gave me a hug ”I thought I had you. I reached the first checkpoint in one hour. I was really shifting. I knew you would be slower and I thought I could take you. But I followed those markers down the gorge and missed the turn off. It took me a bloody age to get back on track.” I told him that at Checkpoint 2, I had seen his time on the form and he was only an hour ahead and that I knew I just had to keep going. “That’s because I lost an hour in that bloody gorge!”
As I was chatting with Martin, the winner Dirk, came in (2:16) and was soon followed with a huge cheer for Geoff and Kobus (7:28) who had started at 5.30am. Finally, a bedraggled Welsh Phil arrived (7:05) carrying his Welsh flag. He had overdone it again, getting lost with some of the others and losing a lot of time and energy trying to backtrack and catch up. He was so exhausted, that they made him lay down on a table to get a check up. “Would you vote for him?” I asked Steve as we remembered that breakfast discussion we had had before the event.
Alan and Cass appeared. Cass said “I was so worried about you on Day 6. I didn’t think you’d make it.” Alan complimented me and said “If I had to depend on only one person getting through an event like this, it would be this man here.”
We sat around drinking beer, eating sandwiches, taking photos and congratulating each other. I felt sad for James who had to sit through it all but he seemed happy enough to see our faces. I asked if he fancied coming back to try again “I really don’t know” he replied “I should have taken more care of my feet before coming here. I know I could do it”. I got an email from James a couple of weeks after the event who wrote “Foot went bad and was 2 days from having it cut off, but they beat the infection in the end. Back in Sudan and soaking it in salt water as we speak.”
I felt absolutely shattered. There were group photos of the competitors and crew and lots of hugging. Nadia came up to me and said “Are you still looking for a lift to Cape Town?” Yes. She introduced me to Anne, my nemesis! Anne was heading there tomorrow morning with her husband. “Do you know anyone else?” Anne asked and I told her that Rhodri would love a ride as well.
Eventually, our luggage appeared. Jim picked up our chalet room key and even carried my suitcase since I was hobbling so badly, now that the adrenalin had worn off. We had been allotted a different chalet. This one seemed more luxurious and it had two single beds! We had our first showers in a week. Jim adjourned to the bar to join our drinking buddies, while I sorted out my stuff for tomorrow. I was just sitting on the couch, when I heard a noise and a massive baboon came into the room and jumped onto the table. He looked at me, I looked at him and thought “where is my food? Right behind me!” Fortunately, the baboon decided I was bigger than him and retreated back out of the door. I was tempted to yell “Matt’s room is next door!”
By the time I reached the bar, Hugh pointed at the large amounts of empty beer bottles and said “Oi, mate. Where you have been? You’ve already missed the first few rounds”. I supposed I just needed a little time on my own to reflect my own personal achievement. After I had done the MdS, it took a couple of weeks to sink in. This one was almost immediate, though I had my terrible feet to remind me of the ordeal.
The bus was waiting around 6pm to take us to the farewell dinner. Since there were so many competitors and crew, the usual outdoor occasion at the Augrabies Lodge had been moved to a large community hall up the road. Tables for 8 people had been set out in three long lines, with a stage/bar at one end and the food served at the other. I grabbed a table with Team Mincer including Fiona and Jason and Jim. We started on the table wine and rounds of beer. Ashley stopped by. It was strange to see her out of her medical uniform. She said “You lot scrub up pretty good.” I thanked her for all her help to get me through the week.
An MC welcomed everyone and announced the proceedings for the evening. We lined up for the first course which were large chicken kebabs in honey sauce. They were so delicious some of us went up for second helpings. Then a 15 minute video of the event was shown. This was culled from the www.youtube.com clips from the various stages and footage of today’s finish. Big cheers went up when various people appeared on film. The main course was sliced steak, potatoes and salad. It took a long time to serve around 150 people. If there was a dessert, I don’t remember it. I was stuffed. Over dinner, Hugh regaled war stories from Iraq, of how he had had to buy as many AK47s as possible for his company security from local dodgy characters with $19,000 in cash and then his company “asking for a bloody receipt”. If anyone gave him a disbelieving look to a story, he would yell “Honest mate. Ask Steve. He was there”, pointing to Steve who usually had a beer in his mouth
The evening dragged on a bit and I just felt really tired. There was a delay while they waited for the sponsor to turn up to hand out the awards.. James’ infected feet were so painful, he had to leave early. The musician who had written the song for the event, played it live. Then they played the video again before the sponsor eventually arrived and we were asked to come up in reverse order to collect our ‘Cheetah Glass Statues’. Everyone got a large round of applause.
So the final positions of what became a 237km event (due to Day 3 being shortened) were: Blind Geoff and Kobus joint 69th (59 hours 26 mins), Welsh Martin 67th (55:45) followed by my smug self 66th (54:50), Anne &Poy joint 64th, Hugh 63th (mentioned in dispatches for being the only person to ever carry a walking stick around the event), Welsh Phil 62nd, Steve 59th, an even smugger Lerch 58th, Alan 57th, Edward 54th, Captain Kirk Stuart 27th (who now had another event to bore people with), Ahn the Korean 22nd, Jim 18th, Mad Austrian Ambros 17th, Canadian Bruce 15th, Comrades Colin 9th, Welsh Matt 8th and Rhodri 3rd. The winning time by the South African was 22 hours and 2 minutes. Two women took joint first in 27:06
I could hardly keep my eyes open, and when it was announced that the first bus ride back was leaving around 11.00, I was ready to head home to hit a decent bed. So was Jim who was slurring rather a lot. It had been a lovely evening. My only comment is that it would have been nice to have a day to recover, chat to people normally and then have the dinner when everyone was refreshed. I had been up since 4.45am that day. I said my farewells where I could, but they were fewer than I would have liked. I had to go. Tomorrow I was heading for Cape Town and it was another 6am start!
In conclusion, I would really recommend this event for numerous reasons. It is a friendly affair with efficient organisers (notwithstanding a riot or two) and a great crew of volunteers who all treat you like stars, no matter the level of your ability. You feel part of a family on this event. The medical support is also excellent. The scenery is diverse and stunning, completely different from the bleak MdS in the Sahara. The South Africans are a very friendly bunch and South Africa, though it has its problems, is a beautiful country. The event is intimate and attracts some strange characters which makes for some interesting times.
Is it as hard as the MdS? Probably not – we actually got a wash on two occasions and there were chemical toilets! However, we definitely had lower temperatures than last year and I am convinced that had it been 50’C and I was tackling those river gorges, I doubt if I would have survived. Last year, 5 of the 20 starters had quit on Day 1, three of them in a 53’C gorge. I could now see why.
Would I do it again? Having now written this account and looked back at the photos, I think I would. But to some extent, it was the people I hung around with. Alan was a great mate and he said he felt as if the MdS 2006 episode had finally been concluded. We had now achieved an event together. Jim had been brilliant fun as a roommate. There is of course, only one Team Mincer. We made tentative plans for an event in 2011. Only time will tell if Hugh starts carbo-loading and getting out on a few 5km runs.
- The work is done the same day (how much extension would you get in a day I thought?)
- Men & women with sexual problems
- If you want to win Casino gambling and Lotto (I didn’t realise a bigger willy improved your chances)
- Weak erections and early ejaculation
- Troubled relationships and marriage
- Remove bad luck (are men with small willies unlucky?)
- Financial Problems? (are men with small willies poor?)
- Bring back lost lover even last for a long time (sounds like a Thai hostess wrote this line)
- We solve women problems like cleaning the womb (with the extended willy?)
- All kinds of pain in the body
- Kapa oil for lucky (eh?)
- Kabamba stick which bring money to your house (how do you train a stick to do that?)
- Women who can’t produce or get child
- Protection of your home (does this mean waving your extended willy around as a weapon?)
Underneath the list it said “We can send medication through the mail. We can do work telephonically” (I didn’t realise you could enlarge a willy over the phone)
I read this out and asked what all of these had to do with Penis enlargements. One of the South Africans said “It’s a local witch doctor. They deal with any problem you have.” Ah…that explained it.
