Pass

Day 2

After sleeping in solitary confinement (in order to be insulated against several hours of loud log sawing on all sides) and having stuffed nurmerous syruppy and liquorice-like concoctions down my throat, I woke up feeling like a cactus whose barbs had retracted a little. That's code for a little better. A friend from Giant also stepped through the moving swamp of mattresses to give me a red Epic shirt with the word CREW emblazoned on the back. That was a pick-me-upper too.


My partner for the day was Marisa, a spunky chick with a cool Mercatone Uno long sleeve cycling journey (which coincidentally matched one of my pairs of cycling pants).

From the word go the air was crisp and the scenery wide, and mountainous and pristine. Karoo rocks held the cool of the shadows for some time. The blue snake, sometimes bulging into the waisty dimensions of a fat lizard, trickled by a small school whose children chanted: Hou bene hou (hold legs hold), whilst waving flags. Plenty of us chuckled and waved.


We meandered from one road maintenance HQ (a shack with a stop go sign and plenty of yellow chevrons) to another, meanwhile Marisa had asked how old I was, and upon hearing '35' offered an automatic reponse, but when I pressed her: 'Shocked?' she (just 21 years old) admitted she was. Meanwhile she cycled like someone more than 3 times her age. Several times she wanted to quickly scuttle off the road (hearing an approaching car) and since I was pushing her, it meant I was almost pushed off the road a few times. In fact, that second day I came the closest to almost certain carnage, but as a result of another cyclist pushing her, knocking handlebars and then diving away from possible carnage and forcing me to exit the tar road. I hopped over a few brick sized rocks in the road, and somehow managed to escape a fall that for one paralyzing metallic second, seemed inevitable.


I also heard someone call my name - it turned out to be Hennie, leaning out the window of just one of a fleet of Epic Support Vehicles heading to where we were headed: Barrydale.


I stopped at one stage to photograph the Epic guys dusting themselves off as they left another dirt section and joined us for a stretch on the road. I had to dash back to Marisa, and doing so, suprised a few of them. When they caught up to us they offered a few comments, and I also asked them how long their stage was. Just for fun, Marisa and I blew by a segment of riders just to prove we could. As they came by, one of them pushed Marisa for a bit. Later I heard that a few of the (prettier) girls had been assisted. and Jean (aka Curly), who might have been mistaken for a short but sturdy girl (sorry Jean).


That was fun, and we posed for more photos on the roadside while the sun raised itself and began to melt the human will. Since I'd left a foot in a pedal, at one water point, I managed to sort've fall and slice my achilles open (or the skin in front of it) with the chainring. Nice bloody pattern. Then we continued to chase a birthday girl and Flossie - a pair that was determined not to be behind us. We swapped positions a few times.


Marisa gave up with about 15km and some of the worst uphills to go. I took a photo of her lying on the dirt, seemingly passed out. (A camper had sneaked up on us and it's opportunistic male occupant had inquired - hopefully, but apparently innocently- if she needed a lift. She'd declined.) And now here she was, reclining, waiting for a bakkie to carry her home.


I jumped back onto the road and flew down the last section into Barrydale; a section so steep I felt like Heidi skiing down the mountain.


After a short lunch on a lawn, we headed for a small Pass. I immediately kicked my heels at everyone, and once over the pass, dropped like missile down the other side. PJ and Danie managed to reel me in. I reached the church at Suurbraak first, the cheer from the handful of girls (lying on a mattress under a tree) underheard as my iPod thundered loudly into my brain.

Suurbraak. A charming colored village. With a house for sale for R38 000. And a gurgling brook. Jean and San Marie wandered off for some private time. I had coffee with the older folks, while young yellow and black chicks dipped their beaks at biscuit crumbs under our table, and a mother hen admonished them with long, high pitched caws.


I found a corner in the whitewashed house for sleep and to continue my private battle against the toxins in my tissues. Meanwhile, our bus had lost its battle in the mountains. It had been unable to complete its journey, and had retired, hurt, perhaps for good.