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The Imana Wild Ride started at 3am on Saturday 18th July 2009 in Ixopo when we left to drive down to Kei Mouth. Craig, Mike and I left in one vehicle, with Nick and Nikki in the other. We were certain we were leading – we got a call from Nick at 5am saying that they had over slept and were just leaving Ixopo. With this in mind, we were very surprised to pass Nick and Nikki’s Subaru at a petrol station at Idutchwa in the Transkei, and now we knew the race was on. Nick, realising he had lost the lead, took a coastal sneak down to the ferry crossing at Kei Mouth. His move would have led to victory but for an elementary navigation error, which saw him going to Trennerys rather than Kei Mouth – forcing him to take a slow drive on a hectically rocky jeep track. Craig, Mike and I cruised in with a comfortable lead.
Whispering Waves chalet 19 (our traditional accommodation at Kei Mouth) never fails to disappoint. Craig asked on arrival what the compound was on our left. Mike and I informed him that this was our lovely accommodation. Craig soon came round though. He was initiated by No.19 on his first toilet visit, returning with wet pants after an experience with our projectile-flushing toilet. Our stay at Kei Mouth was what we’ve come to expect over the past few years – great food and hospitality at the Green Lantern, Tour de France and drinks at the Bush Pig Pub, a warm-up and Day 1 route ride on Sunday, and a slow influx of people and build up of excitement the weekend before the race.
Pre-race briefing on Monday was a special one with the 2009 edition of the race being the 10th anniversary. It was great to be given an insight into the history of the race, the races charity WREC (Wild Ride Education), and a reminder of the great characters which give the race its unique feel. Spider Clark, back after missing last year’s edition, didn’t disappoint with his unique brand of super-crude “no-he-couldn’t-have-said-that” humour. His speech got the Wild Ride veterans laughing, and the new initiates gasping in horror (and mothers leading their children out the room, hands over their ears).
Day 1 started with the normal ferry crossing over the Great Kei River and a start at the base of the legendary Sunrise Surprise Hill. I expected some sort of attack from Craig and Mike on the first hill, but was surprised to see my partner setting the tempo up the first climb. At the top it was already clear who would contest the race at the front – Nick and I, Mike and Craig and Dan Hugo and Bobby Behan had a gap on the rest of the field. After the first hilly inland section, Nick and I and Mike and Craig had a small gap over Dan and Bobby, and we consolidated the lead over the next 10km or so. The “golf-course” before Wavecrest Hotel, where our race was made the year before, was again where we got a lead. By the top of the hill we had about 25 seconds on Mike and Craig, and over the predominantly flat remainder of the stage, we increased the gap as Nick’s piston-legs kicked into top gear.
Being back on the beaches reminded me what elevates the Wild Ride above any other race – the strange mixture of burning legs, the rising sun, glistening beaches and the taste of salt spray in your mouth. It’s one of the best feeling I know to cross the Qora River before Kobb Inn and the finish line. There’s no cleaner feeling on earth.
Nick and I pulled just over 4 minutes on Mike and Craig, who finished only seconds ahead of Dan and Bobby. The Kobb Inn lawns, which roll down to a rocky coastline, must be the best finish line on earth. It’s hard to get up to go and clean your bike and shower when you can lie there drinking coffee and eating snacks, chatting to all the competitors about their story for the day.
Stage 2 dawned with another immaculate Wild Coast sunrise. The predominantly flat second stage always starts fast, and Nick made my lungs burn over the opening few kilometres. With his beach riding skill and technical prowess, the second stage is his day. He rode lines through the rocks I would never have considered, and this helped us pull the gap out to Mike and Craig who started 2 minutes back (due to the condensed elapsed time format). The Nqabara River was a sizeable swim as usual, and before me knew it, we were approaching the first “Mother” (in layman’s terms, a flippin’ huge hill).
As we portaged up the mother, calf burn was today accompanied with spectacular views off the cliffs down to the blue green of the Indian Ocean, dolphins diving in the waves. We rode past some fresh rhino dung – it an awesome and rather scary privilege to be able to ride on rhino stamping grounds. From there it was down the path through rhino valley (a path crafted by rhino feet) and onto the last beaches of the day. We mercifully crossed the Mbashe River at low tide and were spared a scary swim in the brown torrent.
The staff at the Haven Hotel were welcoming as usual, and Nick and I were pleased to find we had pulled an additional three or so minutes on Mike and Craig. Our lead was now at about 7.30. Nick, Nikki, Craig, Mike and I were again all put in the same room, with a group of guys next door. We all spent time together laughing, recounting war stories and watching the tour on the pub TV. In the evening we went through the standard procedure of race admin and prize-giving, capped off as usual by awesome pictures from Jon Ivins and tv-coverage from BigShot media, always a special reminder of the day.
Stage three started the next morning with a gale-force tailwind behind us, strong enough to ground the helicopter for the day. On the beach for the first half on the day we reached 50-60km/h – riding with the wind all you can hear is the hum of your tires on the sand. After the first half, which is mostly beach riding, the weather started to get ugly just before the second inland section, almost on cue as our race turned. Mike and Craig had pulled back to within a minute on the next uphill section called Bex’s sneak, and on the treacherous downhill that followed, Nick and I, and Mike, were all blown off the road. I was left cursing in the middle of the road and looking for my partner who, as it turned out, had ridden down a grass bank after the wind pushed him off the road.
We were finally caught on Mission Mother (a Mother which it is my personal mission to ride without putting a foot down – I failed again this year, right near the top). From there, we all knew the battle was on – Mike and Craig had already gained two minutes on us, and Nick was battling with three mothers still to go between Hole in the Wall and Coffee Bay. Mike and Craig gapped us on the first mother, and from there on, it was just damage control. The wind was driving rain into our faces up the granny gear climbs, and although there weren’t sunny skies we have become accustomed to during the race, it was what Imana is all about – racing and fighting against the elements. Nick dug deep over the last few climbs and we limited our losses to four minutes on Mike and Craig, arriving drenched and freezing. Our hands were so cold we could barely change gears by the finish.
The rest of the field struggled in as we had, fighting what must have been one of the more epic days in the races 10 year history. The race always pushes everyone’s upper limits, as bailing is not an option – unless you want to try catch a rural taxi (or boat!) to the end. Everyone rose to the occasion, all but one injured rider finishing.
That afternoon we went and check out the beaches at Mtata Mouth where we would catch a ferry the next morning. From our awe inspiring vantage point on a nearby hill, we looked onto the endless beaches and rolling hills – the best race route I know.
Fines evening was held at Coffee Bay Hotel and was entertaining as usual – Spider Clark at his obscene best. The evening produced a record donation of over R300 000, enough to see a few more classrooms built in very needy communities.
The evening was probably the most nervous one Nick and I have had over our four years of racing. Mike and Craig had cut the gap down to 3.30, and the long hilly last day was more their type of terrain. They were starting 2 minutes behind us, and therefore, would have to catch us and drop us by 1.30 to take the win. We knew that we had stay in front at least till the foot of the last big climb, Stimela Hill.
We set off into the cold at 7am the next morning, up the first lung-bustingly steep hill. I knew it was going to be a big battle when I looked back just before the first ferry at Mtata Mouth and saw Mike and Craig less than 30 seconds back – they had gained 1.30 in the first 10 kilometres. The soggy, high tide first beaches saved us a bit, and we used some of our experience from the past 3 years to stay ahead, riding up and down the beaches, following the waves. Mike also made a navigation error just before the second ferry at the Mtakagagie River which helped the gap back out to 2.20.
I love the race route on stage 4. It’s the Wild Coast at its wildest. Unreal, isolated beaches, massive climbs and unobvious trails through mangroves and coastal bush – trails where you can get lost in a second. The Wild Ride may not be biggest, most publicised or most competitive race – but in my opinion, it’s still the best. It’s racing at its most primal – you and your partner alone against the terrain, weather and tides.
The grey weather as Nick and I approached Stimela Hill, barely in front of Mike and Craig, was almost fitting. Nick, who had been struggling on the climbs, dug really deep to maintain the gap. I know he hated me continually telling him to “push it”, but he did push it as hard as he could. Mike and Craig finally caught us down the other side of the hill, and we took ferries across the Umgazane River together (Mike and Craig graciously played “gentleman’s rules”, waiting for us on the other side after they got the faster boat). We rode the last few beaches together, with no one able to forge a gap. Banging the gong at Umgazi Lagoon was an incredible relief after a tense day, Mike and Craig just on our tail. The close 1.30 gap between us on the overall standings seemed fitting after an epic race.
Umgazi River bungalows was welcoming as usual, and a boat of staff were sent out across the lagoon to welcome us with song and dance (yes, we did join in). Prize-giving and dinner were huge, commemorating 10 years of the race. Unfortunately, stage 5 at the bar failed to beat the bar tab from the preceding year (I personally blame the fact that there were no brooms as dance props for me this year), but we again left with no hair – a good memento of another special 4 days.
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