“Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light…”
There may still be a chance of rain. The few drops that
splattered my visor this morning, had failed to convert into the deluge that
looked so probable. I’m riding up high over the escarpment, having finally
caught up and passed them. The lightning is flashing far off to the right and down
below me. It feels surreal against the night sky. I’m loving this.
I had stopped at the highest point on the route, a few km’s
back and set up some rechargeable lights which I mounted on my tripod. With
this extended to its maximum height, the lighting effect was reasonable. Another
light was placed on the damp gravel road pointing away from them, facing their
direction of travel. My headlamp acted as a spotlight. My cell phone was fitted
on the gimbal. I used this camera arrangement as it would be the most stable footage
that I could get. The lack of light made auto focusing a tad tricky on the
bridge camera. So not a practical option. It seemed an awful nuisance to put
myself through, just to get a few seconds of night time footage, but I felt I
had to.
I could see their approaching lights darting from side to
side, long before they finally reached me. They stopped and we shot the breeze
for a short while. This was the most wearisome that I’d seen them and they hadn’t
yet hit the worst part of the early morning witching hours. The fact that they
had passed the highest point seemed to cheer them up a bit. If only they knew what
still lay ahead. I didn’t have the heart to warn them.
Where are they? I should’ve caught them by now. I’m sure
that they’ve wrong slotted, although for the life of me, I can’t imagine where?
After I had stowed away all the gear I set off after them. I wasn’t dawdling.
After riding for 15 minutes, they were still nowhere in sight. This part of the
route was both fast and washed out in places. It was dangerous and the risk of
having an accident, was very real. Add to that, some exhaustion and you have a recipe
for disaster. I looked for the trails cast by their bicycle lights, but nothing.
Eventually, just before the Rassie T-junction I saw the tell
tail signs of life. What a relief! I passed them offering up a wave and decided
to move on to Picasso’s in Vryheid. Hopefully, we could all avoid the rain. They
were holding nothing back and there were steep and treacherous descents ahead. I’d
rather not know. I’d wait for them at the 24hr restaurant, hoping to hear
nothing until I see them. No news being of the preferred variety.
I was gushing and a little over exuberant when they finally rolled
into the BP fuel station in Vryheid, at 01h35. Their fan club soon swelled to 3.
The intoxicated beardo looking hippie, with the long permed hair, his more
intoxicated teenage looking girlfriend and I. We were all very impressed. How
could we not be? But those dark hours, that they so dreaded, had now to be
negotiated.
The question was purely rhetorical, of course. He had
clearly been mulling it over for a while and now after more than a day’s
non-stop pedalling, was satisfied that the answer was strikingly obvious.
“Why do we do this?” he asked. “Perhaps, it’s in order to
impress our mates? That would make us shallow.”
Mike made a good point. We seldom attempt a challenge of
this magnitude, purely, as a test of ourselves. You know, you don’t climb
Everest and not tell anyone? We need affirmation. It’s nice to be recognized
for a job well done, nice to show-off a little. But it also inspires. Shallow
has its place.
The Wimpy in Ulundi, was the least impressive Wimpy, that I have
ever had the good fortune of patronizing. More a mining town mesh hall, than one
of South Africa’s perennial favourite travel stopovers. I felt hot and stuffy
and the aircon unit was either faulty or wholly incapable of servicing the
large open plan area. It didn’t appear to concern Mike in the least. He seemed
to have gotten his second wind. He was quite gregarious and floated from one
subject to the next with consummate ease. I listened with interest and
contributed best I could. I glanced over at Merak. A quiet, reserved chap, but
like Mike, fiercely determined. Both of them were unpanicked and appeared to
have oodles of time. The stopwatch pressure seemed to have no effect on them.
They spoke of fatigue, but it seemed non-existent. Eating appeared to be a
chore devoid of enjoyment, but other than that there was no outward appearance
of any discomfort. As a riding partnership, they seemed perfectly matched and
it showed in their progress. They were courteous to the waitress, despite her
being a little tardy.
I felt fortunate to be there and to experience it all. To
see how they went about their business. It’s not often that you’re allowed to
move freely on centre court, whilst the Wimbledon final is underway.
A good while later, I deployed my tripod and camera on a hillock,
with a good view of the service road and railway line. No approaching cyclist
would escape my gaze. I found myself amongst
the urban sprawl and was soon noticed by the village children. Very curios they
are and when the Zulu Question and Answer session didn’t go according to plan,
they resorted to pointing and eventually, with growing confidence, pawing at my
photographic equipment. In a desperate attempt at distraction, I offered them a
free-gratis-and-for-nothing photo shoot. It seems family bonds are strong in
these parts and a photo op is not to be missed by cousins, even as far as 3
valleys down. The nett result was that with all the yodelling and ensuing
confusion, I became distracted and almost missed M&M.
By pure coincidence, they had a mechanical issue, on the
crest of the very hill where I was hoping they would first come into view. It
was like it had been planned. The gusting wind was buffeting my tripod and
camera about a bit, but I could just make out that they were having problems
with Mike’s tyre.
They had had more than their fair share of mechanical issues
up to this point. A side wall cut was the latest and could easily have proven
terminal. Being blessed with mechanical ingenuity is priceless in this kind of
situation. Repairs of this nature are seldom straight forward and often require
thinking out of the box. They dealt with the problem in relatively short order.
Good. I watched them through the bobbing view finder. Hold on a second. Let’s
have another swig of Coke. The signs are there. This is what you do when
exhaustion settles in.
