Hermanus - Villiersdorp - Paarl
Day 4
The Mountains
Day 4
My sleeping pad was once again wedged into a dark corner of the stage, and I had packed all my clothes and accoutrements on a long bench. I went to sleep faintly aware that the next day we’d be climbing up Franschoek Pass.
When we woke up in Hermanus, we were told that we should wear rain jackets because it was raining softly outside. In that moment you’re tempted to quickly flash through the whole day, and mine was dramatic: flashing of lighting, crashes, bloodied knees and rain soaked shivering cyclists. When I emerged into the dark, purpled dawn I could make out an isolated wet and fluffy cloud, but around it were lots of twinkling stars. False alarm.
My mood shifted immediately, and soon we did too. My bede (partner) for the day was Ize-Marie, and for me that was reason enough to be ebullient. As we emerged through the sparkling dawn traffic on the Kleinmond side of Hermanus, we reflected on last year (as we’d ridden together on Day 1). We were trying to decide if this tour was harder than the previous year and we decided it wasn’t. I cautioned that today would be probably the toughest day of all, and the days ahead would be against potentially exhausting headwinds. We spoke some more about both tours and then decided it was pointless making comparisons. It’s up to the individual to contribute to the group, but also for the individual to make the most of the overall situation. And certainly, we were flying along ambitious routes, swooping through vales of previously unseen South Africana.
It was as though Ize and I were in a sort of a dwaal for the first 10km. We sort of rode with the pack, drifting slowly forward through it. After the first watering point (at the Kleinmond turn off) we felt sort’ve stuck, so went to the front. I think we both wanted to be up front, but neither wanted to be too pushy about it. We intended to ride and just shield the riders behind us, but then they started falling back, so we just chatted and moved on at our own pace.
Then we turned onto the highway, and headed towards the giant rounded shoulders of a range of mountains. Each climb threw you off down the other side, so that immediately after a climb you had to do just one thing: repeat, repeat, repeat. And what made it worse was a very stiff wind, blasting us from the front. Ize and I worked together to summit the first long, steep upward haul. A few riders tucked in behind us, and then we rounded a long bend, and headed up a monster. It was at this point that Annetjie and Berdine, two seasoned cyclists, edged by us. It was also clear that probably most of the riders, especially the girls, would quit on this section (at about 25km). At the top I took a picture of Ize, her gel shining like so much sparking energy in her hand.
Then, in the following section, a small pack that included Andre, Jean, San Marie, PJ and probably Hannes (maybe JP), came through as well. All their partners had thrown in the towel. I wanted to stay with them, and we did for a few climbs, but it was tough staying in contact because of the wind and having to ride single file on some climbs as cars whizzed by. So then we were alone again, the roads growing narrower, big trucks filled with timber or carrying the space shuttle, or a recently stranded whale (aka hauling big, heavy freights) – these big trucks approached us from behind, bellowing as they climbed, and then roaring by. It was particularly spine wrenching when two trucks passed each other on these steep, narrow and curving roads at the same time, and we had maybe one or two inches of tar for our fragile wheels, the spokes feeling the vibrations of the quivering tar.
It was nice riding with Ize, because she’s strong and determined, and has this perpetual sunny attitude. I snapped a few photos on a saddle after the muscle wringing final climbs, and then we cruised towards Teewatersdam – the Franschoek mountains rising all the time, ominously, like a dark gray wave, into the sky.
Now we began to fly on the long downhill drags until we reached another watering point. Sally and Lize were there, and I think Bianca, offering us verbal support and few titbits – banana and chips – to munch. A little further on Ize complained of stomach cramps. But we were almost there. By the time we reached Villiers the sun was out in full force. We reached a bare, open patch of grass beside the road. Wow, I really needed somewhere to lie down and recover. I was horrified after all that climbing, that they expected us to eat a hotdog, and basically get going towards Franschoek in an hour. What was worse was I’d noticed my tyre had worn right through, and it had been a huge gamble to ride with it just during the morning’s stage. To go over Franschoek with a threadbare tyre was simply crazy.
I passed out on the lawn, next to Ize, for almost 2 minutes when we had to start getting ready for the next section. I ran barefeet to a nearby place to empty the bowels, and then walked like an octopus back over the gravel, arms flying, soft pink feet hurting, eyes squinting in the bright sun.
I gave my camera to Lizanne, or Gillian, and as the cyclists lined up, Sally handed me two new tyres. I called Andre, while I scooted about loading gu2O into my bottle. Andre did a sterling job, probably took him 3 minutes to deflate, remove the tyre, put a new one on and pump it up. That’s so fast it’s sizzling.
Meanwhile, before we were ready, the group went off. That meant Andre and I had to haul ass to reel them in. I took a quick time out to plug my iPod into my brain, and pressed ‘Play’. The music helped me to generate the energy out of an already depleted body to pursue the guys somewhere on the road in front of us. We did catch them after about 3 kilometres, but that’s also not the best way to start going up a mountain. I didn’t feel very happy that the guys just left us, so when my momentum carried me right by, and Andre followed me, I didn’t care. We just went right on going.
Meanwhile, one blue rider was way out in front. I thought it was Danie, who’d climbed well over the small pass near Barrydale. As we got to him he swung left to stop at a bakkie, and then it was obvious that it wasn’t Danie, it was Johan (one of the committee people). Great. I was sort of ready to sit up and relax from there to the start of the climb, but Andre wanted to keep up the pace. I already felt damn tired, the first stage with Ize still in my legs. I had mixed feelings now about it. On the one hand, it was awesome riding with her, she’s nice company, and we were the first pair to finish, but on the other hand, those whose partner’s had quit, like Andre, were much fresher for this. I could feel that my legs were already sapped of their freshness, and the climb still lay 2 km ahead.
Andre, wearing pink, began to move away from me, and I let him. I’d ridden this pass before and I had the feeling he was over-confident, and riding too hard. Although I had once quit on the ascent of this pass, on another day I had ridden from Theewatersdam, up the pass, down the other side, had some breakfast in Franschoek, and then rode up and down again, finishing where I started. So I had an idea how tough the climb was, and I thought Andre was underestimating the degree of difficulty.
But then something happened. There we were, under the gold sunshine, as the great mountains rose into the sky in front of me. I felt a strange sort of abandon right then: for starters, Andre was starting to move away and I was just letting him. And the mountain was just about to start, this difficult piece, that forced you to climb, on and on and on, was now here. And right then a song (Superman, by Five For Fighting) came on my iPod:
“I can’t stand to fly
I’m not that naïve
I’m just out to find
The better part of me
I’m more than a bird
I’m more than a plane
I’m more than a pretty face beside a train
And it’s not easy, to be me…”
I got all choked up, right there, listening to that.
And then, the road lifted, and so did my heartrate. The 37 C heat sizzled off the road. I pushed it to a maximum of 162, which is not high on a hard climb like this, but my legs were fatigued and saturated with lactate, so I had to make sure not to overdo it, especially not in the beginning. Meanwhile, Andre was flying up the mountain. About halfway up, PJ and San Marie – I’d never expect them to pair up – crept around a corner and slid past, PJ asking: ‘Where’s Andre?’
‘He’s quite a long way off,” I said.
I was so much in my own zone, I didn’t even think of connecting, and riding with them. I think I could have, but I don’t think I should have. Then after a few more turns, an even bigger surprise: JP pulled alongside, asking: ‘How much further is the top?’
I said: ‘1km, not more than 2km.’ In truth, I had gone over the top (both times, in heavy mist), but I didn’t know if the piece ahead was the top, or just a gap with the summit further off, and higher, to the right.
I think I should at least have hung with JP, based on knowing it wasn’t much further to climb. But I just stayed in my zone, surprised and shocked actually that these three people had caught me, but then aware that it probably made sense given the grueling exertions with Ize from Hermanus (980m of ascending).
When I went over the top I saw JP for a second and then he was gone.
For the first 2 thirds going down I was very careful. And conservative. I didn’t even see JP so there was no point in chasing. Then, with a third to go, I saw JP much lower down. Then I tucked in, and felt myself gaining speed, as though the Earth was just sucking me faster and faster and faster. And I really didn’t want to go that fast. I only hit 79.9km/h on that downhill, but flashed by JP in the last kilometre, which was a bonus for me, because I think I was so shocked to be caught in the first place, I didn’t try to lift my pace.
I think I was also way too intimidated by my earlier experiences of the climb, so rode, probably, too conservatively. If I had done it again, I think I would have ridden the last 1 or 2km much harder. Having said that, I still felt it was hard.
In Franschoek (after an ascent of 505m) Andre was feeling good, having flown up and down way ahead of everyone else. We sat at a roadside café and drank the most delicious water in the world. It was so soft and fresh. And sweet. Well, it probably wasn’t sweet, but it almost seemed to be. We kept ordering more jugs with ice and kept asking the waitress where the water came from, and she kept insisting: ‘Out of the tap.’
We ate lunch, then went to a beautiful lunch venue in a big whitewashed Cape Dutch building, for a delish lunch. I took a lot of photos there of the cyclists around their lunch tables.
And then there was the little piece back to Paarl. Christi joined us for this section, someone I rode with and knew from the previous year. She wasted no time asking: ‘Is Benedictus here?’
I followed behind the guy on the motorbike, and ended up arriving at Paarl a few minutes ahead of everyone. Got some satisfaction out of that, as I think I felt despondent about being passed on such a big climb.
I cycled with Christi the section into Paarl. Quite beautiful, and charming – Paarl I mean. Christi said something about knowing Werner, and Chantal. Arrived at the church in stinking heat, while the girls collected money. When I lay down on my bed, I felt really, really exhausted.
Showering took a while, I slept while some of the kids knocked on doors. But it was worth the wait; we went right out of town to a landbou skool. Felt amazing to be clean, and the sunset was lovely. We walked on a rugby field after we’d showered and…it was just nice having space, and a few people to share it with.
Had a nice chat on the busride back, and then after a so-so supper (a braai), and seeing Zors (last year’s kos ma) I got an incredible backrub from Yolande (my partner the previous day). It must have been the next day that she found out that I was 35, and not 27, because her houding changed completely.
Anyway, lekker massage, and I passed out while one of the worst movie I have ever half watched blared against a wall, close to where I was sleeping. The next day we’d be halfway. But the day would start with a climb over another Pass. I hoped I’d be healthier after today. Was that too much to hope for? I didn’t know, but even so, I slept like a baby that night.
Day 4
The Mountains
Day 4
My sleeping pad was once again wedged into a dark corner of the stage, and I had packed all my clothes and accoutrements on a long bench. I went to sleep faintly aware that the next day we’d be climbing up Franschoek Pass.
When we woke up in Hermanus, we were told that we should wear rain jackets because it was raining softly outside. In that moment you’re tempted to quickly flash through the whole day, and mine was dramatic: flashing of lighting, crashes, bloodied knees and rain soaked shivering cyclists. When I emerged into the dark, purpled dawn I could make out an isolated wet and fluffy cloud, but around it were lots of twinkling stars. False alarm.
My mood shifted immediately, and soon we did too. My bede (partner) for the day was Ize-Marie, and for me that was reason enough to be ebullient. As we emerged through the sparkling dawn traffic on the Kleinmond side of Hermanus, we reflected on last year (as we’d ridden together on Day 1). We were trying to decide if this tour was harder than the previous year and we decided it wasn’t. I cautioned that today would be probably the toughest day of all, and the days ahead would be against potentially exhausting headwinds. We spoke some more about both tours and then decided it was pointless making comparisons. It’s up to the individual to contribute to the group, but also for the individual to make the most of the overall situation. And certainly, we were flying along ambitious routes, swooping through vales of previously unseen South Africana.
It was as though Ize and I were in a sort of a dwaal for the first 10km. We sort of rode with the pack, drifting slowly forward through it. After the first watering point (at the Kleinmond turn off) we felt sort’ve stuck, so went to the front. I think we both wanted to be up front, but neither wanted to be too pushy about it. We intended to ride and just shield the riders behind us, but then they started falling back, so we just chatted and moved on at our own pace.
Then we turned onto the highway, and headed towards the giant rounded shoulders of a range of mountains. Each climb threw you off down the other side, so that immediately after a climb you had to do just one thing: repeat, repeat, repeat. And what made it worse was a very stiff wind, blasting us from the front. Ize and I worked together to summit the first long, steep upward haul. A few riders tucked in behind us, and then we rounded a long bend, and headed up a monster. It was at this point that Annetjie and Berdine, two seasoned cyclists, edged by us. It was also clear that probably most of the riders, especially the girls, would quit on this section (at about 25km). At the top I took a picture of Ize, her gel shining like so much sparking energy in her hand.
Then, in the following section, a small pack that included Andre, Jean, San Marie, PJ and probably Hannes (maybe JP), came through as well. All their partners had thrown in the towel. I wanted to stay with them, and we did for a few climbs, but it was tough staying in contact because of the wind and having to ride single file on some climbs as cars whizzed by. So then we were alone again, the roads growing narrower, big trucks filled with timber or carrying the space shuttle, or a recently stranded whale (aka hauling big, heavy freights) – these big trucks approached us from behind, bellowing as they climbed, and then roaring by. It was particularly spine wrenching when two trucks passed each other on these steep, narrow and curving roads at the same time, and we had maybe one or two inches of tar for our fragile wheels, the spokes feeling the vibrations of the quivering tar.
It was nice riding with Ize, because she’s strong and determined, and has this perpetual sunny attitude. I snapped a few photos on a saddle after the muscle wringing final climbs, and then we cruised towards Teewatersdam – the Franschoek mountains rising all the time, ominously, like a dark gray wave, into the sky.
Now we began to fly on the long downhill drags until we reached another watering point. Sally and Lize were there, and I think Bianca, offering us verbal support and few titbits – banana and chips – to munch. A little further on Ize complained of stomach cramps. But we were almost there. By the time we reached Villiers the sun was out in full force. We reached a bare, open patch of grass beside the road. Wow, I really needed somewhere to lie down and recover. I was horrified after all that climbing, that they expected us to eat a hotdog, and basically get going towards Franschoek in an hour. What was worse was I’d noticed my tyre had worn right through, and it had been a huge gamble to ride with it just during the morning’s stage. To go over Franschoek with a threadbare tyre was simply crazy.
I passed out on the lawn, next to Ize, for almost 2 minutes when we had to start getting ready for the next section. I ran barefeet to a nearby place to empty the bowels, and then walked like an octopus back over the gravel, arms flying, soft pink feet hurting, eyes squinting in the bright sun.
I gave my camera to Lizanne, or Gillian, and as the cyclists lined up, Sally handed me two new tyres. I called Andre, while I scooted about loading gu2O into my bottle. Andre did a sterling job, probably took him 3 minutes to deflate, remove the tyre, put a new one on and pump it up. That’s so fast it’s sizzling.
Meanwhile, before we were ready, the group went off. That meant Andre and I had to haul ass to reel them in. I took a quick time out to plug my iPod into my brain, and pressed ‘Play’. The music helped me to generate the energy out of an already depleted body to pursue the guys somewhere on the road in front of us. We did catch them after about 3 kilometres, but that’s also not the best way to start going up a mountain. I didn’t feel very happy that the guys just left us, so when my momentum carried me right by, and Andre followed me, I didn’t care. We just went right on going.
Meanwhile, one blue rider was way out in front. I thought it was Danie, who’d climbed well over the small pass near Barrydale. As we got to him he swung left to stop at a bakkie, and then it was obvious that it wasn’t Danie, it was Johan (one of the committee people). Great. I was sort of ready to sit up and relax from there to the start of the climb, but Andre wanted to keep up the pace. I already felt damn tired, the first stage with Ize still in my legs. I had mixed feelings now about it. On the one hand, it was awesome riding with her, she’s nice company, and we were the first pair to finish, but on the other hand, those whose partner’s had quit, like Andre, were much fresher for this. I could feel that my legs were already sapped of their freshness, and the climb still lay 2 km ahead.
Andre, wearing pink, began to move away from me, and I let him. I’d ridden this pass before and I had the feeling he was over-confident, and riding too hard. Although I had once quit on the ascent of this pass, on another day I had ridden from Theewatersdam, up the pass, down the other side, had some breakfast in Franschoek, and then rode up and down again, finishing where I started. So I had an idea how tough the climb was, and I thought Andre was underestimating the degree of difficulty.
But then something happened. There we were, under the gold sunshine, as the great mountains rose into the sky in front of me. I felt a strange sort of abandon right then: for starters, Andre was starting to move away and I was just letting him. And the mountain was just about to start, this difficult piece, that forced you to climb, on and on and on, was now here. And right then a song (Superman, by Five For Fighting) came on my iPod:
“I can’t stand to fly
I’m not that naïve
I’m just out to find
The better part of me
I’m more than a bird
I’m more than a plane
I’m more than a pretty face beside a train
And it’s not easy, to be me…”
I got all choked up, right there, listening to that.
And then, the road lifted, and so did my heartrate. The 37 C heat sizzled off the road. I pushed it to a maximum of 162, which is not high on a hard climb like this, but my legs were fatigued and saturated with lactate, so I had to make sure not to overdo it, especially not in the beginning. Meanwhile, Andre was flying up the mountain. About halfway up, PJ and San Marie – I’d never expect them to pair up – crept around a corner and slid past, PJ asking: ‘Where’s Andre?’
‘He’s quite a long way off,” I said.
I was so much in my own zone, I didn’t even think of connecting, and riding with them. I think I could have, but I don’t think I should have. Then after a few more turns, an even bigger surprise: JP pulled alongside, asking: ‘How much further is the top?’
I said: ‘1km, not more than 2km.’ In truth, I had gone over the top (both times, in heavy mist), but I didn’t know if the piece ahead was the top, or just a gap with the summit further off, and higher, to the right.
I think I should at least have hung with JP, based on knowing it wasn’t much further to climb. But I just stayed in my zone, surprised and shocked actually that these three people had caught me, but then aware that it probably made sense given the grueling exertions with Ize from Hermanus (980m of ascending).
When I went over the top I saw JP for a second and then he was gone.
For the first 2 thirds going down I was very careful. And conservative. I didn’t even see JP so there was no point in chasing. Then, with a third to go, I saw JP much lower down. Then I tucked in, and felt myself gaining speed, as though the Earth was just sucking me faster and faster and faster. And I really didn’t want to go that fast. I only hit 79.9km/h on that downhill, but flashed by JP in the last kilometre, which was a bonus for me, because I think I was so shocked to be caught in the first place, I didn’t try to lift my pace.
I think I was also way too intimidated by my earlier experiences of the climb, so rode, probably, too conservatively. If I had done it again, I think I would have ridden the last 1 or 2km much harder. Having said that, I still felt it was hard.
In Franschoek (after an ascent of 505m) Andre was feeling good, having flown up and down way ahead of everyone else. We sat at a roadside café and drank the most delicious water in the world. It was so soft and fresh. And sweet. Well, it probably wasn’t sweet, but it almost seemed to be. We kept ordering more jugs with ice and kept asking the waitress where the water came from, and she kept insisting: ‘Out of the tap.’
We ate lunch, then went to a beautiful lunch venue in a big whitewashed Cape Dutch building, for a delish lunch. I took a lot of photos there of the cyclists around their lunch tables.
And then there was the little piece back to Paarl. Christi joined us for this section, someone I rode with and knew from the previous year. She wasted no time asking: ‘Is Benedictus here?’
I followed behind the guy on the motorbike, and ended up arriving at Paarl a few minutes ahead of everyone. Got some satisfaction out of that, as I think I felt despondent about being passed on such a big climb.
I cycled with Christi the section into Paarl. Quite beautiful, and charming – Paarl I mean. Christi said something about knowing Werner, and Chantal. Arrived at the church in stinking heat, while the girls collected money. When I lay down on my bed, I felt really, really exhausted.
Showering took a while, I slept while some of the kids knocked on doors. But it was worth the wait; we went right out of town to a landbou skool. Felt amazing to be clean, and the sunset was lovely. We walked on a rugby field after we’d showered and…it was just nice having space, and a few people to share it with.
Had a nice chat on the busride back, and then after a so-so supper (a braai), and seeing Zors (last year’s kos ma) I got an incredible backrub from Yolande (my partner the previous day). It must have been the next day that she found out that I was 35, and not 27, because her houding changed completely.
Anyway, lekker massage, and I passed out while one of the worst movie I have ever half watched blared against a wall, close to where I was sleeping. The next day we’d be halfway. But the day would start with a climb over another Pass. I hoped I’d be healthier after today. Was that too much to hope for? I didn’t know, but even so, I slept like a baby that night.
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