Live hard and true, says pilgrim George
As I reached 96km, my other me was starting to doubt myself. What had I done wrong?... I was totally and utterly drained
Prof George Euvrard, former Rhodes University dean of education and Old Selbornian, is a legendary Eastern Cape pilgrim.
I met him at his garden gate in then-Grahamstown on a cold, whippy winter’s day in 2011 and we set off on his first Indlela yo Buntu ramble to Nelson Mandela’s old prison cell on Robben Island.
He was ever positive, and at 56 had a sprightly step.
I see that a decade later he has made it halfway.
The Arch loved it. Tutu wrote: “Our country and people desperately need dedicated and disciplined time and space to contemplate what it means to be fully human in the spirit of ubuntu, and the Indlela yo Buntu pilgrimage will provide such a national resource.”
George is simply my bud. Yet, as I leapt annually into 10-degree water in Grey Dam on the winter solstice screaming “Into the light!”, I should have known worse was to come.
Yes, he said, I could definitely do the 108km two-day Amatola trail run. I made the first 50km to Cata hut by 10pm, and day two was a “self-rescue” walk out. I got rescued at 100km.
This week we met up again at Chintsa’s Buccaneers when he stopped over a bunch of his Class of 73 Old Selbornians on a 150km hike from the Wild Coast to the school to plant an indigenous tree and celebrate the school’s 150th.
They were tired but pumping with life and there was George with his wife Gwenda leading the pack.
This crew, gathered from all over the world, are wonderful proof of the pilgrimage concept.
They have journeyed through the modern eye of the needle — airports, passports and all that autocratic, sinister bumf — to get to their old school, and here they are doing the real journey, travelling on foot along our glorious — recently saved from the filthy oil and gas industry — Wild Coast and East Coast.
George, at 67, shows every sign of walking until the last step.
In honour of an extraordinary Eastern Cape educator, intellectual and delightful friend, here are edited extracts from a recent post about attempting the Karkloof 100 miler (160km) trail near Howick.
He reflects on a friend, saying her failed enduro event was a folly.
He muses: “The inner and the outer. The voices within and the voices without. My world and theirs. What makes sense to me and how does it look to others? What is true?”
As he teeters near the end of the Karkloof, he says: “I became aware of two distinct worlds — the one I was experiencing first hand and intensely, and another one just beyond.
“In my world, I had done everything as well as I could. I got in some pre-emptive sleep, I started slowly, I took smaller and slower steps, ate and drank consistently, and I was contentedly confident. Moreover, I was just loving flowing along comfortably in the silent solitude of dense dark woods and big open spaces.
“And then it crept in, imperceptibly at first, just a sudden realisation that the ‘new’ feeling of tiredness had actually been there for a while, that the engine had been somewhat spluttering up the steep bits, that it would be a welcome relief just to stop for a moment.
“At 74km I knew I was in trouble.
“I was drained. I was entering new territory. I had hoped for a sustainable second wind. There was no wind of any kind.
“At 86km I ate a huge plate of food and set off again. Surely I would get renewed energy and oomph?
“I overheard Kylie saying something to someone about ‘the lean’ but I let it waft past.
“A bit later, however, I noticed I was constantly falling over to the left as if being pulled by some invisible force.
“Eventually, I had to stop and just bend over my sticks, in a desperate attempt to regain some balance and rest.
“Deep down I knew my race was over. If you know yourself and your body as well as I do, it is almost a betrayal to pretend to yourself that it might be otherwise. And I was at peace with this.
“My universe was dividing into two worlds.
“My world, where I could feel everything, where I was totally in touch with every part of my body, where I was living my history, my present and my dreams in one seamless flow, where I was actually very together.
“And the other world — of others. In the build-up to the start, friends had being saying, ‘Go George go, we know you can do it!’ ‘You’ve done the training, now is the time to reap the rewards’. These affirmations were from my most loving friends.
“But it was another world. In my world, I was quietly contented that I had done my best preparation to set off on an unknown adventure with an unknown outcome.
“Now there was another world of expectations, unquestionably well-meant, but nevertheless one that was at odds with my world.
“I started to have the feeling that if I didn’t succeed I would somehow have failed my destiny.
“People [usually non-trail runners] often wonder how I can spend so much of my time on my own on the trails.
“I might appear to be on my own, but I am never alone. There’s me, myself and my God, and it’ sa moeruva party wherever we are!
“There are quips and laughter. This is my world out there on the trails. It is a wonderful community, warm, wise, loving, honest and together.
“As I reached 96km, my other me was starting to doubt myself. What had I done wrong? I knew I had reached the end of my adventure. I was totally and utterly drained, more dangerously left-leaning than I had ever been in politics.
“At 104km, climbing out of a river, I lost my balance and went over backwards [that Lean again!] crashing onto rocks, gashing and bruising my legs and taking a pounding to my face.
“At first I just lay there, but I regrouped and on we went. Into the night, into the forests, into the fog of exhaustion.
“The levels were inclines, the inclines were hills, the hills were mountains. The Left tugged relentlessly.
“My back went into a spasm. I collapsed face down. But we had to go on.
“Every now and again I would stop, hunched over my sticks, and my angels would patiently watch and wait.
“Eventually we reached the old farmhouse, and Gwenda [my wife] put her arms around me and implied that it was over.
“I remember the enormous relief of being in the same world.
“I was deeply contented and at peace with myself and life. I had experienced unspeakable joy and fulfilment, and also dug deep into my caves of retreat and resilience.
“I had lived a lifetime in just over one day.
“In my world, I felt at one with my ambitions and my actions. I wallowed in the afterglow of having lived intensely, of having lived with all my different parts — physical, psychological and spiritual — all in sync and in full flow.”