Cape Pioneer - the Race with Soul

This race has been on my wishlist since right after Tankwa Trek this year.

A month prior I had completed Attakwas, Tankwa came next and I wanted more after having had such a terrific time at the first two Dryland races, my sights were set on their longest race set to take place in October.

As the event neared, a slight hiccup came up - my life partner who lives in Switzerland was due to visit during the time of the race and I wasn’t sure I could sweet talk him into using up 5 of our precious days to spend riding all day.

I underestimated myself because that’s exactly what I did - Stefan agreed.

Great success - I was about to ride my home trails with my love, who happens to be a mountain biking legend.

I saw the humour in that - and still do.

Here I was, only 1 year into my mountain biking journey and about to partner up with 3 time Cape Epic winner, Stefan Sahm.

We registered as team #SharpeSahmurai and were both equally excited.

Stefan has of course raced in the Garden Route before, having won the Cape Epic in the early days when it started in Knysna - but the route was much different in that event and in any case, he didn’t have much time to look around back then.

With the Cape Pioneer, the first 2 days are on my favourite Hillbillies Trails in George and even featured more than I have ridden before so we went into it with stars in our eyes, ready to take on the trails together.

The plan was never to race but rather to enjoy the time together, riding comfortably and enjoying the feed zones!

This is however not quite how it played out…

Stage 1 started with us leaving George in our rainjackets.

Cold and wet, most people on the start line were concerned about the wet trails and riding on slippery roots.

I fortunately didn't have that concern, felt confident with the terrain and as long as I am warm enough (thanks CIOVITA), I enjoy riding in those conditions.

The issue for me was that and excuse my openness, but I believe more women should speak about these things and even more importantly, be aware of what your body is going through - I was in my late luteal phase. This is the week before a woman's period starts and it's when we're at our most fragile, both emotionally and physically.

It didn't take long into the ride for this to be proven true - I felt flat. Fortunately my stoke was still high.

We rode together, smiling, joking and enjoying the company of others as we went along.

I accepted little pushes on the climbs and squealed with delight on the downhills - feeling very chuffed with myself to not be too far behind Stef, happily ignoring the fact that he was holding back for me.

I started to feel stronger as the morning went on, glad to have done most of the days climbing and loving all the single-track that was thrown at us. We got into a bit of a rhythm and were making our way towards Pepsi Pools when disaster struck.

Stefan rode over the bridge and I was right behind him but didn't gear down quickly enough to confidently make it up the steep climb on the other side. Right at the end of the bridge, I clipped out to walk up the little hill - but in my fatigued state, I neglected to pay attention to how close I was to the edge.

As I put my foot down to begin the walk, I realised only in the moment when it was too late to do anything about it, that I was putting my foot onto nothing. With no ground to be found - it was a 2.5 metre drop into a riverbed full of rocks.

Stefan heard me say "Oh shit", turned around to check on me and found that I was suddenly missing - down in the ditch with my bike on top of me and my sunglasses skewed on my face, not moving.

He rushed down immediately and was on top of me within seconds, checking if I was alright.

I was conscious but dazed, unable to move for a few more seconds as I tried to gather myself.

I hit my head hard and cracked my helmet but after we confirmed that nothing on my body was broken and I felt ok enough to get up, we went on.

Not for long though because as soon as I got back on my bike I realised that my rear brake lever had broken off in the fall.

There was no way I could ride like that and my darling didn't hesitate to trade bikes with me.

We rode for a few more kilometres until I started feeling dizzy and nearly fell off the bike. Stefan laid me down on the side of the trail, looked me in the eyes and said it was enough now. I knew it but I have a bit of a hard time not finishing what I start. I cried a little as he hugged me and said that if I rested for the rest of the day and the medics cleared me for tomorrow, we could start again, knowing that's what I needed to hear.

I wiped my tears, ate a chocolate and reminded myself how lucky I was - to be doing what I love, with the person I love and to have walked away from a fall that could have seriously injured me with only a headache and some bruises.

Stef went to the photographer we saw moments earlier to ask him to radio the medics and then we rode up a little further to a point where they could access us.

Once there, a machine of a man came to our rescue. Piet from Oudtshoorn - he looks like a character straight out of a Marvel movie with biceps the size of my thighs.

He helped us load our bikes onto the back of his bakkie and drove us back to the race village, giving us time to get to know one another. Piet is the head of security and was in the military for 20 years - and somewhat surprisingly, he has the gentlest way about him.

He was interested in learning more about our lives and shared his own story with us.

As we got closer to the race village, he insisted I go to the Doctor and offered to take us back to our accommodation afterwards.

Dr Jannie said that I showed no signs of concussion but suggested I spend the rest of the day in bed before seeing him again in the morning to confirm if I can continue riding.

My first concern, however, was to get some food in and Piet agreed for us to have lunch at the village first before being dropped off.

That evening, my headache persisted and I knew I was in no shape to be riding Stage 2 so Stefan and I made the call to sit it out.

I explained this to my friend Isabel from Dryland Event Management and asked if they would be ok with us rejoining at a later stage.

She hugged me and said of course. Stefan couldn't believe our luck, that the event would still allow us to continue even though we were out of competition.

We then sat Stage 2 and Stage 3 out and had a little holiday in the Garden Route before rejoining the party in Oudtshoorn for Stage 4 and 5.

The morning we rejoined, we were again welcomed by fellow riders and the Dryland staff, with everyone pleased to see that I was ok enough to ride again.

Some suggested we were crazy to choose the Swartberg Showdown stage to start again, especially with temperatures in the Karoo set to hit 40 degrees Celsius that day.

My response to that, jokingly, was, "I like suffering in the sun."

It's true though, I do. I feel my ability to deal with extreme heat is a bit of a superpower for me.

Unfortunately, my better half does not share the same superpower and the poor German was roasting. 😆

And thanks to my snail's pace, he was slow roasting.

The 84 km stage, with 2 000 metres of climbing took us 7 and a half hours.

Stefan says it's his third longest day on a bike ever.

He's used to finishing at the front and throughout the day, I could see the strain going so much slower than he is capable of was taking on him.

It made me sad to be putting him through that but the option to go faster was not within my capabilities so I told him I loved him and went back into my pain cave.

I was hurting. My feet generally start to ache after about four hours on the bike and my body was still tender from the fall.

I have been working hard to get better at climbing but I still struggle - and this day was pretty much one big climb, topped off with a moerse climb.

I reminded myself to embrace the pain - it is normally why I do these things.

The opportunity to choose your challenge and conquer the demons within yourself to get to the finish - I find strength in this.

This race was never about that though - I went into it, for the first time, not seeking a form of suffering.

I wanted an adventure with my love and going into it, I felt I had done enough work on the bike this year to accomplish each day without going too deep into the hurt box - which was perhaps wishful thinking all along.

Despite having to dig into that box, the goal was still achieved - sharing the most amazing experience with my person.

We had the opportunity to see each other in a way neither of us had seen before and reached the top of the Swartberg Pass with full hearts (and nearly depleted tanks).

Stefan confessed later that he had moments of regretting our decision to take part during that Swartberg ride - finding himself wishing we were on a ride just for fun that suits both of our passions: single-track and downhill.

He said it hurt him to see me in pain and that he had an even bigger respect for me and the rest of the riders battling it out in the middle and the back.

He asked why we do it, why do we put ourselves through this?

I told him that I can't speak for others and I'm sure we all have our own reasons but that for me - the feeling of fighting to stay in something and having to work hard physically and especially mentally to stay in the fight, is one of the greatest feelings once you reach that finish line.

Needless to say, this stage had him asking himself some questions!

For me, it wasn't that unusual - a long, hard day on the bike - in the sun, I can dig it.

After having gone through intense personal challenges as a child, I have found some healing in this form of intentional stress/ pain/ challenge. I do however naturally hope to continue improving and spend less time out there in the future.

After we came down from the pass, we had the most delicious Roosterkoeks, got some rest and the following day we went into Stage 5 with smiles knowing the route was more suited to our style.