THE CHALLENGE
A six-day holiday on the Garden Route sounds quite inviting, but there won’t be much time to smell the flowers on Expedition Africa writes FIONA MCINTOSH
IT’S just over two weeks until the start of Expedition Africa, a 520km, non-stop adventure race on the Garden Route. On May 15 I’ll be teaming up with two other complete newbies to the sport – Sarah Hearn and Shaen Adey, along with our mentor, veteran adventure racer Hanno Smit of the Merrell Adventure Addicts.
The goal: to navigate our way, on foot, mountain bikes and through the wilds of the Garden Route in under six days.
There is no set route, only mandatory checkpoints along the way. When the maps are issued the day before the race each of the 50 teams of four will plan their own route according to their strengths and the likely lie of the land. Will it be quicker to go over the hill or round it? Better to bundu-bash or stay on a path?
My first foray into non-stop multi-day adventure racing is a monster – a World Series Race. But the wonderful thing about adventure racing is that a team of determined, brave and/or crazy people can compete alongside world champions.
Our “Merrell Mentored” team got together for the first time five weeks ago at the Garden Route Expedition Africa Training (GREAT) weekend, organised by Merrell team captain Graham Bird. It was the perfect opportunity for us gals, none of whom had ever done anything of this nature, to test ourselves in the same arena that we’ll be racing through in May. With a combined age of over 150 years, we’re not spring chickens, but what we lack in youth, we make for in experience. (Or so we tell ourselves).
And we have both youth and experience in our leader, Hanno. Capitane Mentore’s approach had come over clearly in his pre-race emails.
He’s a KISSer of note. The bottom line, he explained, is choosing gear, and a strategy, which works whatever the weather or your state of exhaustion: one which is flexible enough to cope with ‘eventualities’ – like ‘mechanicals’ to the team or our equipment.
Which suits me perfectly. Keep It Simple Stupid (KISS) is my mantra too. And it certainly worked on the day; despite our inexperience, our non-stop 23-hour adventure was much less epic than I’d imagined it would be. No one fell asleep or encountered the fabled sleep monsters and, as a team, we were pretty well-paced.
To say that it was fun would be an exaggeration. There were moments when I managed to appreciate the spectacular scenery, the star-studded night sky and the satisfying rhythm of shuffling along through the indigenous forest listening to the calls of birds or frogs, but for most of the time I was pushing hard.
Gasping for breath on the hills; fighting my fear of speeding down overgrown, loose paths on my bike: battling to change my shoes, fill my water bottle and grab some food in minute-long transitions.
We had our lows: moments when we had to dig deep. As darkness fell Hanno powered on while we novices struggled. None of us had ever ridden at night before, never mind through a whole night.
After 17 hours and a 100 and something kilometres of paddling, crashing down fynbos covered hills and cycling up interminably long forest roads we were shivering and silent. Focusing on keeping going. “Would this be a good time to remind you that Expedition Africa was your silly idea?” I quipped as I cycled alongside Sarah. She smiled.
An hour later the first rays of the sun hit our weary, cold bodies, miraculously reviving us.
We had no idea where we stood in the field but we found new energy. “You’re not racing the other teams, you’re racing the course,” Hanno insisted.
“The secret of success is focusing on getting to the end as quickly as possible, regardless of your competitors. Another team might be ahead of you, but if they have missed a checkpoint they’ll be placed below you.”
It was an invaluable exercise. We came away recognising the areas that we needed to improve on; the gear that worked and the stuff that didn’t.
The real wake-up call for me was how easy it is to lose focus. There was a transition point in the wee small hours of the morning where Graham offered us warming cups of coffee. For the first time in 18 hours Hanno allowed us a few minutes to relax before whipping us back into action.
Those few minutes made all the difference. I got back on my bike feeling light: cheered by the thought that there were only six hours to go. I sped down the hill, only to have to turn around at the bottom when I realised that my backpack was still at the checkpoint.
No wonder I felt so light! One of the rules of adventure racing is that team members have to stay within 100m of each other so the others followed me back up.
Everyone had a witty chirp but no one complained or showed fatigue. It was the moment that I realised that I was part of a strong, sympathetic team; that whatever Expedition Africa threw at us we would smile in adversity.
We were tired, but we had learnt that getting frustrated when you lose your way and have to backtrack for miles, struggle to find check points or wait for your team mate is self-destructive.
You just have to suck it up and work out how to keep everyone upbeat.
“Why are you doing this?” incredulous friends ask daily. And I’ve answered with glib George Mallory-style responses: “because it’s there” or, in more candid moments “to test myself, to see whether I’m up to the challenge”.
In truth, I’m not sure of my motivation, but I know that, however we fare, Expedition Africa is going to be an incredible journey.
A journey through parts of the Garden Route that I will otherwise never see; a unique opportunity to rub shoulders with some of the greatest in the sport; and a life journey from which I will emerge stronger and richer having been to a place where I took strain.
By the finish, on May 21, I will have laughed and, no doubt, cried with fellow competitors, who, as a result of our shared suffering will become lifelong friends.
As Hanno kept reminding us, pain and doubt are all in the mind. Bring it on.
For live tracking of the event: www.expafrica.live