Is it only me, or do you guys also sometimes experience a 3 a.m. ‘anxious hour’, where you wake up and ponder on what’s going down in your life? The Good Book says that what you sow is what you reap, so I have no one else to blame for my latest planned escapade, which elicited a heart-palpitating, anxious hour. Let me explain. I have always been fascinated with endurance events. Feats of human endeavour which rise above the mist of everyday worldly existence. So much so that I have dabbled in such events in the past.
From Comrades to cycling
In a stupidly rash moment, I entered my first Comrades Marathon with a mere 360 km of training in my legs. That is what happens when you combine stupidity with eternal optimism. It was an ‘up run’, and with an 11-hour cut-off in those days, I ambled in with only 8 minutes to spare. The only thing greater than the pain in my legs was the elation in my heart at having conquered the beast. I went back the next year a whole lot wiser, with at least three times the distance in my legs, and managed a respectable time despite ridiculously overhydrating and suffering with extreme nausea as my body tried to purge the excess water. With an up-and-down run under the belt, it was the Comrades box ticked, albeit very shakily, and I turned to cycling, which was much easier on my lanky frame.
Eight Argus Cycle Tours, and seven Jock’s (an 180 km round trip from Barberton in the Lowveld) later, I hung up my cycle racing kit till 2008. All my cycling had been on the road up to that point, despite my last two Argus’s being on a mountain bike. I was desperate for a sub-3-hour Argus. With my second last Argus, and my first on a Mongoose mountain bike, being in 3 hours and 9 minutes, I thought that a sub-3 was within my grasp. Back the next year, properly prepared, I suffered my first mechanical ever in a cycle road race. Exiting the Blue Route near Muizenburg, sitting comfortably in a nice fast bunch, my chain jumped the back cluster and jammed solid. I eventually had to loosen the back axle to extricate the chain before I could get going again. The bunches I caught were too slow, and those that passed me were too fast, and my race fell apart. I ended up doing another 3 hours 9 minutes, identical to the previous year. Totally disillusioned, I essentially parked my bike in disgust. Till 2008.
In 2008, I cracked an invite to ride the Sani to Sea mountain bike stage race from the then CEO of Marriott, a Financial Services company I deal with. I would be part of a 2-man team, so I co-opted my son, Dave, to ride with me. Not wanting to embarrass myself, I put in some serious training. I sold a motorcycle and bought a full suspension Mongoose Canaan Pro bicycle, like the bike on which Paul Cordes and Yolan Speedy had won the mixed section of the previous year’s ABSA Cape Epic. It was a rude awakening to realise that decent bicycles now cost the price of good motorcycles!
The Sani to Sea itself was a revelation. Incredible route, scenery and organisation. Dave and I smashed it, starting each day in the fast group and giving a good account of ourselves. Then life sort of happened, and I did much more motorcycling and way less cycling. I turned the pedals a bit, but never in anger, until a new endurance idea raised its head. Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I have a thing for deserts. Botswana and Namibia are my happy places, so when I was asked by Sterkspan to help at the halfway station for the Desert Dash, I was only too happy to oblige. For the uninitiated, let me explain what the Desert Dash is about.
What is the Desert Dash?
Sponsored by Nedbank, the Desert Dash is a single-stage race on the gravel road from Windhoek, the capital city of Namibia, to Swakopmund on the west coast. 401 km in one go. The event is tackled solo by the true endurance warriors, and in two- or four-man teams by slightly lesser mortals. Starting in Windhoek at lunchtime, participants ride through scorching summer heat into the cool of the evening and the dark of the night. Traversing the Khomas Hochland, riders get to the halfway station at ‘Ruimte’, in the middle of nowhere, then ride on to Bloedkoppe and the palm-decked oasis of Goanikontes before the final dash to the coast, and the finish in Swakopmund, 401 km from the start.
Unfinished business
Three years ago, I was committed to riding my first Dash as part of a two-man team. I put in the hard yards, got properly fit and strong on the bicycle, only to have to shelve my effort due to a dislocated shoulder, which I suffered as the victim of an attempted armed robbery. I foiled the robbery, but came away with a moral victory, but a wonky wing. Hence, the ‘unfinished business’ part of the heading. With a reasonably rehabilitated shoulder, my thoughts once again turned to the Dash, and a plan emerged. There is a ‘half-Dash’ which starts at midnight at Ruimte and ends in Swakopmund. This is what I plan on doing.
I have a full suspension 29’er mountain bike with which I contemplated doing the Dash. The course is all on gravel district road, and as such lends itself to a relative newcomer to the bicycling scene–the Gravel bike. To the casual observer, a gravel bike looks like a racing bike with slightly heavy-duty wheels. More aerodynamic and typically lighter than a mountain bike, they are really fast and have started to dominate gravel road races. There is only one problem. With rigid frames and no suspension, they beat the hell out of the rider over a long course. At 72 years old, I need all the help from my equipment that I can possibly get, but must also try to limit the physical assault on my somewhat worn and weathered frame over a long gravel road ride. If only you could get a gravel bike with suspension…well, it turns out that you can.
The perfect bike for the job
Chatting to our friends at Trek South Africa about my dilemma whilst ogling their stunning Checkpoint gravel bikes, their retort was, “But why don’t you consider a Checkout?” They proceeded to show me a world-first full suspension gravel bike, which they built, called ‘Checkout’. It is meant to fill what Trek perceived as a gap in gravel bike utilisation. At the sharp end, they build the Checkmate SLR, which is a no-compromise race machine, designed with the sole purpose of serving at the altar of speed. Then they have the Checkpoint, a Samurai sword, as compared to the rapier-sharp Checkmate, suitable for mere mortals. But then you have the likes of me. I am not going for the win but rather the finish. I need the benefits of a gravel bike without the pain. A gravel bike that will also serve as an incredible touring machine. A bike that reminds one of something you would ride for the sheer joy of cycling, with a broad spread of talents.
Then I saw it in ‘the carbon’. A Checkout SL7. Love at first sight! Funky, almost psychedelic paint job and dripping with exotic hardware. 500 Series OCLV Carbon frame, 60 mm travel RockShox Rudy XL fork, RockShox SIDluxe shock with 56 mm of travel, SRAM Force AXS/XO AXS T-Type 12-Speed mullet drivetrain. Bontrager Aeolus Pro 3V carbon wheels and RockShox Reverb AXS wireless dropper. Remove the standard alloy carrier rack (a boon for touring), and it weighs in at under 11 kg. I was smitten! This is the bike with which to smash a Dash. To cut a long story short, I convinced our friends at Trek to loan me a Checkout for four months. I’m not sure if they were convinced by my saying how incredible photos of the Checkout would look in that desert setting, or perhaps they just took pity on me on my knees, but they agreed!
Preparing for the challenge
To say that I am stoked would be a huge understatement! I will keep you guys up to date with my training progress as I rack up some serious training k’s. I also plan to get some serious assistance for my assault on the Dash. Nico Sterk, who himself has achieved Dash greatness, and who runs the highly successful Sterkspan training academy in Centurion, will put together a training programme for me and monitor my progress. Liqui Moly South Africa, who support local cycling in various ways, have offered their range of brilliant bicycle products for the care and maintenance of the Checkout and my cycling kit. I’ll give you feedback on what I use and why. We also plan to chat to our friends at Thule about how best to carry the Checkout to and from training venues.
At this point, I feel a bit like I did when I entered that first Comrades and realised what I had signed up for. A 72-year-old tackling a 201-km mountain bike race that is not for sissies, is a serious undertaking! My mind remembers what my body has long since forgotten. What is in my favour is that I have absolutely the best bike on the planet for the job, and the backing of wonderful partners. I want to prepare well enough to enjoy what will be an epic endurance event. Let the games begin!
