Race 4 of the Miway Big 5 was the Monzi Hippo Challenge, and the less said about it, the better. In fact, the only reason I'm doing a post on it is because I know you've all been following the series with much anticipation.
The morning began inauspiciously with the realisation that Simon had inadvertently registered for the 50km race instead of the 25. Not to worry, it was a challenge he was up for, but in hindsight, we should have read it as an ominous sign.
Things didn't look up immediately as he soon discovered a rear tyre puncture just 5 minutes before the starter's gun was about to go off. Luckily (or not) the owner of the local bike shop is good friends with one of Simon's cycling buddies, and happened to be walking by. I've never seen a quicker tube change, and figure he must have done a few thousand in his time.
So there we leave Simon, puncture repaired and on his way, last seen at the 10th hole of the Monzi Golf Club where the 50km track diverges into the cane.
So onto the 10km race...
William and I were preparing for a great race - he had promised to try his best to ride through the sandy bits, while I had promised to try my best not to yell at him. Things were looking good. Not 4km into the race we stopped to help lift a bike off an 82 year old man who'd just fallen off, subsequent to a rather inopportune heart attack. Apparently he'd just flown in from Canada the day before and the jet lag, combined with his age and rather large girth did not put him in the best physical condition to even mount a bike, let alone ride it. Still, at least he was out there giving it a go. The ambulance was on its way, so we left him to it.
Just past the 6km mark, things came a little unstuck as we realised that William also had a puncture. Blow (pardon the pun). Rather than turning back, William was keen to complete the course and earn the finishers' medal. So began the lengthy walk to the finish line. "It's only 4km" I hear you say, and indeed that is very true. However, the day was forecast to be a hot one, and reluctant to spend too long trudging over searing sandy tracks, I consulted with one of the Zulu marshals as to a possible short cut. And here-in lies the moral of the story. Never take directions from someone who doesn't speak the same language as you.
I'm not entirely sure what the man thought I was asking, but in the end, we were directed down the side of a cane field, across a bit of scrub, where we then joined another dirt road, which seemed to be the track for the 25km race. With the sinking feeling that we were walking very much in the wrong direction, we soldiered on, reluctant to waste more energy on re-tracing our steps. To their credit, the hundred or so cyclists who rode past us intermittently all had great words of encouragement, sympathy, and even offers of help, but, confident that we were no more than 1km from the finish line, I waved them on. William was an absolute trojan and didn't complain once on the Long March home, which ended up more in the vicinity of 6 or 7km.
By the time we arrived at the finish, the temperature had reached 40 degrees and we were both completely spent. William got his medal, and I discovered my bike had also sustained a puncture.
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| An exhausted, sunburnt and dehydrated William takes a load off in the shade! |
But back to Simon...
Having sorted out puncture #1 in time to make the start, the first 25km of the race sounded like lots of fun. From there, things went rapidly down hill as his bike proceeded through punctures #2, 3 and 4. By the 5th, (and after having thrown his now busted pump into the bush), it was time to call it a day and sit up for the sweeper vehicle.
In due course, the sweeper vehicle arrived, simultaneously destroying Simon's visions of a brand new Ford Ranger, bike in the back and him in the cab (with the A/C on full blast). Instead, he spent the next 2 hours in the back of a clapped out Hilux with 12 Zulus (none of whom could speak English), 3 busted bikes and 2.5km of danger tape they had collected along the way. To say conditions were unsavoury and somewhat warm in the back of the bakkie would be understating it, and it was a hot, bothered yet bemused Simon who eventually arrived back at the finish line. Upbeat to the end, he was just happy they didn't have to drop the Zulus home first.
And so...
...the Monzi Hippo Challenge will not go down as our greatest event so far. The Zululand Cycle Shop however, rates it very highly, and has done a roaring trade following the weekend (they told me as much when I went in to stock up on tubes).
In other news, the 82 year old is fine and has been discharged from hospital. Final race in the series is the Kwambo Classic - not sure if we are game enough...
