Who's the boss

Not I. The wind bossed us from Struishoek to Gegun with just the 5km on tar to Pearston at our backs. 

Otherwise it was a master class in echelon and wheel sucking techniques. 

But that was later. 

Back at Grootdam we met Tienie when we arrived who dished out chicken soup and crispy vetkoek along with all the gossip. 

There was an American bow hunter, Gene, plus a couple of local hunters who work with boss man Neil. 

The braai was indoors. Next to the pub. I saw a couple of quivering slabs of meat being turned and tried not to wonder. 

The conversation was easy and the company relaxed. Starters were served and it was a plateful of braaied prawns which were dispatched in short order. 

Dinner was next and there were the slabs,  brown on the outside and decidedly pink on the inside. Ooh eh eh. 

The choice was reed buck or fresh eland,  as in hunted that morning by Gene. 

I went with the reed buck and hid the pink bits with mustard and mushroom sauce. Veges made an appearance which were delish. Rounding it all off was creme Brule. After the shortage of sleep, I couldn't stay up to watch the rugby so scuttled off to bed to lie back and stare up into a Leopard's arsehole. 

A leisurely breakfast of bacon and eggs and coffee got us out of Grootdam at 7.30am.

Tollies Torture 

Our first challenge of the day was the clambering over our first 3m fence. The bikes weren't too heavy according to the weigh in at Intercape.  So 14.4kg of carbon Santa Cruz porn went over followed by another. 

 The second challenge was to de-socknshoe or not. The idea of wet feet nixed that so off they came and freezing wade ensued. 

Way above us we could see the road winding it's way up the Koppie. Towards the top we reached 24% gradient then HC. 

I think I'm going to be very stiff tomorrow. After that came more water bars, 5m power intervals that went on and on until we finally got to the top of Struishoek portage and there were all the whitewashed stones in all their glory. Thanks Dave and all the Redcliff staff. 

A short picnic then we started down. One can never explain what these are like to novices so Kelly was left to her own devices to discover for herself. 

At Radcliff farm the family was settling in for a Sunday braai when two sweaty women arrived wanting water. True eastern cape hospitality meant water, homemade lemon juice and fresh oranges. 

Our detour into Pearston was put on hold as time was moving on and the wind had picked up,  ready to bludgeon us on  the last 25km.

Gegun was deserted, my phone died and we were cold and tired. Eventually - only 15min really - we discover the key in the pot plant via a portable charger and calls to race office. The entire region was without power so no tea to revive us. In the freezer was steak and chops and a frozen loaf of bread. The kindling for a braai was prepared outside in the cold strong wind. 

But help was at hand. Lisa and Lood arrived with a cooler box full of roast chicken,  salad,  pasta and potato salad. Topped off with chocolate eclairs. 

The lights have come on and all is good with the world. 

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Finally on the trail

So the trip to Cradock was tedious and more expensive than anticipated. The welcome from Margaret made up for that and it was with a small amount of trepidation that we finally set off. 

There were a few mechanicals to deal with: brake pads that had closed, saddle  again that kept hitting get the rear wheel and a slight adjustment to my saddle. 

A Wimpy coffee sorted out my grumpiness and then we couldn't put it off anymore. Time to commit. 

We crossed the Fish River and began the climb. It's a great route. Gradual ascents of 4-5%.

A lone cyclist came at us head on in his rugby shorts and fleece, intent on having the first of many conversations today. Now we know that most of the Cradock cyclists are at Trans Baviaans,  and that he had ridden out to check on his sheep. With a detailed description of what lay ahead of us, off he sped. 

We rode leisurely and took photos. After all it was only 55km. It was a cool day and joy, a tailwind. When we finally submitted, we tucked out of the wind to snack and enjoy the Freedom of where we were. Cradock lay behind and a vast Valley lay before us encircled by Hills stretching away into the distance. 

A white Bakker pulled up next to us. 

"Why aren't you doing Trans Baviaans? " We explained why? 

"Look where my bakkie turns off, that is where you must turn. Stop at the farm. It's Eldorado." 

We watched from our lofty perch barely able to make out the white vehicle against the sun bleached winter veld. 

Eventually the wind got cold and we headed off down the pass.  As we turned off the full force of it hit our backs and we flew along the road. 

There was a moments hesitation then we swung into the farm, with Pierre Oosthuizen's experiences spurring us on.

Eastern Cape,  Karoo and Farmers. The hospitality doesn't get any better. Water or whiskey? 

Water, whiskey and rooibos tea. 

The parlour was wall to wall hunting and fishing trophies and of course the topic moved to Cecil the Lion.

Much shaking of heads.  "Gives the industry a bad name." Seeing we were in hunting country and would be staying at a hunting Lodge, we agreed. 

With multiple have good wishes and offers of help in PE, we left the Moolman's for a fast 20k downhill with shunting wind at our backs.

Grootdam awaited.  And therein probably lies another story. 

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Docking into Cradock

The bus down to Cradock is not cheap and definitely not fun with a bicycle. After some crazy fly by night volumetric measurements we had some very light pockets. After a crazy week prepping, I passed out for the full 12hr drive.  Fiona did not sleep a wink thanks to crazy loud phone calls at 12am... Bollywood  movies being watched on cellphones (no earphones necessary apparently) and one crazy near brawl over something we've yet to figure out. 

We arrive and thank Bob Margaret was there to save us from the Friday Shell garage jollers complete with milk stout and bloodshot eyes. 

Margaret's home was the perfect pre ride resting place sent comfy beds, hot water bottles, sausage dogs galore..

3hrs of proper sleep later we unbubble wrapped our babies, wrestled with an unwieldy brake pad and hit the local wimpy. Hard. 

It was basically onwards and upwards and upwards and upwards. Pretty Karoo 18k. climb up Swaershoek Pass.  Took some pictures of myself in the pretty Karoo flowers - what an awesome Day! 

- KellyKazi

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