After many years of pouring my money into skateboards, I bought a heavy alloy mountain bike in 2008 and headed up the mountain with my friend Kat.
We sweated slowly up to the top of the highest singletrack in Tokai, and bombed all the way to the bottom. Then we went home.
On the second ride, we did it twice. This was the modus operandi for a long time. We climbed no hills without a sure promise of sweet descending. We always rode with a backpack crammed with a water bladder, sandwiches, hot-crossed buns, bananas, sweets, tools and spare tubes. I wore t-shirts when I rode. We talked a lot of *** at the trail head.
The next bike I bought was a Giant Trance, a full-suspension all-mountain bike with nice relaxed angles, plenty of travel. It gobbled up the trails.
But along the way, my t-shirts were traded in for tight cycling jerseys. I abandoned the scrumptious trail food for fancy drink formulas and an empty stomach. I bought a Specialized Epic with 29″ wheels, slammed the headset, rode for hours and hours and hours up and down mountains and on gravel and tar roads and entered extremely long marathon races. I even bought a road bike.
It’s been a long ride since 2008, and I’ve loved every turn — even the long road tours — but on Saturday it all came full circle at Dirtopia’s Welvenpas Enduro.
The pink mist descends: Craig dawdles down stage one of Dirtopia’s Welvenpas Enduro. // Photo: http://esphotography.co.za.
What is enduro? Last year Miles Kelsey wrote a nice explainer here.
The day started at Festa restaurant (excellent pizza and beer) on Kleinevalleij farm just outside of Wellington on Saturday morning.
There was none of the strain of a marathon start. No pre-race toilet queues, no gagging on gooey sachets of sports nutrition products, no budgie smugglers battling for a place on the start line. Actually there was no start line, just a bunch of dudes and ladies lounging around on the grass, eating easter eggs while Dirtopia’s Meurant Botha called out a few explainers before jumping on his bike: “Okay, now follow me”.
About 80 of us then wound our way slowly along the trails of Welvenpas and way above them to the start of stage one of five.
Each stage began and finished with an electronic timing board. The riders would head off one by one, as they wished. No strict order. You could choose to follow immediately on someone’s tail. Or you could give them a minute lead to ensure an open trail. No one complained – they just munched snacks and talked *** until it was their turn or until they felt like jumping the queue. No biggie.
After five stages, the fastest cumulative time would win. Some would ride hard. Others would compete amongst friends. Others did not give a hoot. Some rode full-on trail bikes; others were on rigid single speeds.
Stage one was a long descent that twisted its way from the very steep, loamy slopes of a gum plantation, down through vineyards, fynbos and slippery granite gravel.
My plan was to take it easy and safe. But when you head off down a trail with about 50 people watching and a stopwatch ticking, something switches and careful measures evaporate. I dashed off, too soon after the rider in front of me, skidded at the first corner, overshot the rest, caught the rider before me, rang my bell, hooted, and eventually slammed my timing chip up against the board at the bottom. What a hoot.
The fastest rider down the first chute, Gary Barnard, came in at 5:04. I was a full minute slower.
And then slowly we pedaled, or pushed in many cases, our way to the next four timed stages.
All in: four hours out goofing in the mountains; much picnicking; 30km ridden; 1000m climbed; 1000m descended; no crashes for me, but a bit of bad luck with my chain on two stages; my times weren’t fast, but I’m not terribly slow; and a whole lot of good *** was talked.
This seems like a sensible approach to bike riding.
Nice man! Wish we had more opportunities like that in the Eastern Cape.