In a word.. What an experience! Ok, that's 3 words. Let's try again. Monumental! I think that characterises this, the world's largest timed event. In cycling terms it is absolutely massive, with thirty five thousand cyclists converging onto the course from all corners of the Cape, South Africa and the whole world (with 2500 foreign entries, though Lance Armstrong & Matt Damon didn't show up again this year). This would be my second attempt, and I was left awe-struck by the first.. Would this time be the same? Let's find out.
FRIDAY - The trip to Cape Town was easy enough, with a direct flight from Maputo taking a mere two and a half hours.. (about the time of the winner of last year's edition). The plane was full of Maputo cyclists and their bike-bags, which caused some confusion at the SAA desk for the payment of the bike surcharge (note - other oversize items such as surfboards and golf-clubs DON'T PAY, but bikes do. Why?!). After arriving, and having to run around to collect our bikes, we checked into our respective digs (for me it was the Backpacker's place, Big Blue, a bit grungy but conveniently located 2 minutes walk from the finish!) and then went to collect our race packs at the Convention Centre, to avoid the Saturday pandemonium. Solomon's weren't in attendance unfortunately, but there was a lot to see there, between bikes and kit and spares and wildly improbable accessories that only rich cyclists seem to spawn.
A big blue view
Pit stop near Camps BayThat night we went for the traditional pasta carbo-load in a aptly called Mario's Restaurant (est. 1971, a year after I was born). Unfortunately service that night was pretty dreadful as the two shaved head 'service ambassadors' seemed more intent on doing pirouettes than serving us. When food did finally find it's way to our table, an hour and a quarter after we'd arrived, it was Fantastic.. So my suggestion, take a crossword puzzle, because though the pasta is quite good, they're just s l o o o o o o o w .... And don't go there the night before a cycle race!
SUNDAY - It's dark outside still. Five am and my alarm goes off, pulling me away from my slumber. My bike, bottles and kit had been prepped the night before so all I had to do was make coffee and eat some food and.. ahem... hope nature would take it's course, before I set out to reach my starting gate. I dreaded the thought of having to use a porta-loo for more than a pee.. as the images of the wind blowing portaloos over at the 2009 Argus were still fresh in my mind.. Well, nature did tortuously take it's course, but I felt all the better for it and was out the door smack on 6am and hurrying off to my date with destiny.
How do I push through this bunch?I reached the start about 10 minutes later and already the pen was half-full, but you can only be an optimist in these scenarios and at every shot of the gun releasing a group ahead of us, and as our group moved to the next pen, I stole a few places until I was finally on the front line.
Ready..?
Steady..
Ok, time for one last photo.. 
Dawn and my start fast approachingWhat followed is a bit mind-blowing and mind-numbing at the same time. I have few words that can describe hurlting along at an average speed of 36km/hr.. That's average, so on the flats we were close to 50 and the descents were upwards of 70km/hr.. I had hardly enough time to warm my muscles that the peloton was taking a fast descent after Hospital Bend and leaving me behind! Quick! I had to get back up there.. I had to bridge across... Not easy when everyone else is pushing 50 (km's, not years..). But at the next climb the peloton slowed and I managed to catch the tail-end just in time for the Boyes Drive ascent.. and again I got dropped. My legs, normally used to a gentle warmup were not accustomed to this full-gas speed of this South African peloton. Still I maintained contact and on the undulating section at the top of Boyes I slowly moved up the field and back with the group. Then through Simonstown and another uphill, but this time I was prepared and kept pace. My Caracol training sessions were paying off finally. Then I lost my bearings completely as we turned inland and ever-upwards, and the serious climbers were putting on the pressure. Once done ascending we crossed the Cape peninsula an a seriously fast section. At one stage someone called out "Tandem!" and I thought they were moving out of the way to be courteous, but No! It was to catch his slipstream! Ever-faster on this flat slightly downward stretch.. Amazing speed. We're 50km into the race and I still haven't touched my water bottle. No, it wasn't that I didn't want to drink. It's just that I couldn't reach down and grab the bottle for the frenetic pace we were doing!
Saltwater is behind us and now we're on the slow grind up Chapman's Peak Drive. This is a beautiful road to drive up and cycle if you have time to smell the roses and look out to sea, but today was serious business and the cyclists weren't taking any prisoners! It was push and shove all the way up, no by your leave, excuse me sir or madam etc.. I felt like I was in the midst of wild animals racing for the last morcel of food on earth, or a wildebeast migration. It was mindboggling.. So was Chappies, as the sea mist came over and cooled us, and we were enveloped in a sea of fog.
With Chappies completed came the fast descent down to Hout Bay and I'm afraid to say that my descending skills weren't up to scratch as I was being passed at breakneck speed by all the tortured riders that I'd effortlessly passed on the way up. Then a short flat section at a fast pace into Hout Bay and onto the last serious climb of the day, Suikerbossie. Something to do with sugar, but the taste in my mouth was bitter as I scaled it's flank, huffing and puffing but powering up the hill.. My turn for revenge as I passed the pesky riders who'd uncerimoniously sliced past me on the downhill. See if you can hold my wheel now.. At the top I was on 2:38. If I wanted to crack 3 hours I needed to gain a minute.. Now the descent.. not my favourite..
The descent was fast but flowing as the road was wider compared to Chappies and this meant that I could take a more comfortable line around the bends.. and after the really fast riders filed past I finally managed to hold onto a group of descenders and more or less made my way down in one piece. On the undulating section into Camps Bay I frogleaped small groups of cyclists, the ejected entrails of the groups ahead, their legs tired and heads heavy.. I had no time to lose with them. I had to move forward. I had to catch the peloton. Climbing up to Bantry Bay I spied a group ahead.. If only I could bridge to them. They're climbing. They'll slow. I can catch them. But they didn't slow! Those who still had legs were going full-gas, using up every last ounce of energy. Only 7 km to go, the aura of a sub-3 hour awaiting them. No, they were steaming ahead. I'd have to will my body over to them, teleport somehow. I pushed and I stomped and got out of the saddle.. and suddenly I was back on a wheel.. I could rest, for a second.. and then power on to the front of the group. Down and around the round-about. We're on the final stretch, but the finish is still 3 km away, and suddenly a Tandem appears. "Catch that tandem!" I hear and then in disbelief realise it was I who yelled out. Was I too turning into a cannibal? No matter, no time to think, just react. Myself and another cyclist caught the wheel and struggled to keep up. Our speed was nearing 50km. The wind was blowing into us, not hard, but enough to blunt our efforts. 2 km. We're pushing hard. The Tandem cyclists are nearing the end of their rope, yet they push on. I struggle to keep up. 1 km. A final bend. The finish line ahead. I can't stop myself.. I pull out from the slip-stream and start sprinting to the line. My lungs are burning, my legs are jelly, but somehow I pass the cyclist in front of me, pass the tandem. I'm at warp 5. I'm flying.. the finish line is there. I taste it. YES!!! I've finished..
Time on the watch 3:02. I've missed my target by 2 minutes and 1 second. Yet, I am strangely elated. It felt like I've just been swimming with sharks. My adrenaline is pumping. But I've made it through the other side. I will be back again next year. You know what they say, 3rd time lucky. Although in a race like this there is no such thing as luck.
A beer with the other Clube Ciclismo members after the race at the Ferryman's - Waterfront. Sorry though, no Laurentina on the menu.
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