Uniondale (Die Hoop) to Knysna
73km (8km tarmac, 65km dirt/unsealed)
Tempting as it was to get up at 5am to go walkabout with the "wild" animals, I opted for lying in bed! Bearing in mind the grimness of the last 20km yesterday I wasn't up for it. I did hear muted voiced in the main room - thought it was George and Mary, but it turned out it was Doc. Sophie who was cadging a cup of tea from George. Apparently the walkabout was very enjoyable, but they were the only two, plus Henck, who went for it!
Looking out the front window when I did get up at 6am I was despondent to see the low cloud still there, and everything looking very wet. It wasn't actually raining, more that slightly moist air you get in fog/mist.
Breakfast was great, and we got loaded up, and into Sam's van. They were treating us to a ride to the tar road! Woooo!! Unless you did the ride the night before you have no idea how happy we were with that simple pleasure.
All too soon the end of the dirt road appeared and it was out and at it. The rain was starting and the breeze already picking up. Foolishly, as it turned out I took off my fleece thinking it would be too warm riding with it under my light rain jacket - it was South Africa after all. I wasn't expecting this weather.
Things weren't too bad for the first few kilometres. We crossed over the staggered crossroads and onto our favourite unsealed/dirt road which would take us up and over the Prince Alfred Pass. Well. The rain got heavier. The wind continued to blow. I got progressively colder. The rain wasn't soaking me but it made the light rain jacket stick to my skin and thus get colder. As the blood withdrew from my skin my shoulders got cold and then sore. The back of my right hand went numb and did my thumb, and an intense pain shot up my index finger. The left hand, strangely enough wasn't too bad. Thranness yet again made me plough on to the top of the pass.
By this time I was shaking really quite badly, and uncontrollably. Sam ordered me into the van where the heater was on full blast. When the rest of the crew arrived they all bailed in as well for sanctuary from the awful conditions.
Dr. Sophie was so concerned by my shaking (which I couldn't even stop for a second) that I think she was going to make me sit out the ride until I warmed up. Thankfully I warmed up sufficiently to avoid the ignominy of such a fate, and with the doc's body wamer (I was so cold my brain didn't even register to put my fleece back on) I set off down the undulation, sorry, hill road.
When you're still shaking from the cold and wet, it's hard to appreciate whether the road is bumpy or it's just you shaking!! But the downhill, once my shoulders stopped aching, and my hand wasn't numb was actually great fun with some just amazing mist shrouded scenery. It's no exaggeration to say that you needed to be there to appreciate the scale and wonder of the scenery. A photograph just wouldn't do it justice.
The group was to stop at the coffee house at the bottom of the pass. Analise and her one room shop was such a welcome sight. Bless her. A winning lottery ticket would not have been more welcome than her cups of tea and milk tart. And muffins! That and the sun broke out. Hallelujah!!
Soon enough it was time to de-robe the outer layers and back in the saddle. A long steady climb ensued, both in terms of the geography and the temperatue. It was soon time for a stop to peel off the inner layers and normal service was resumed.
This was a day full of undulations including one ridicuously steep section. It was so steep, a couple of passing 4x4 occupants were taking photographs of us! "Crazy fools" you could almost hear them say. At the top of this nut job section it was water and sun cream time, and time for a hearty pat on the back.
Lunch was on the cards. Sam would be at the top of the final hill. Yes, I actually think Henck used the 'h' word.
Of course, the question which was begged was....where or rather when is the "final hill"? Of course off we set. Neil, George and Shaun headed off in a front to back line, whilst I trundled on at my merry 6 or 7 miles an hour. I was asked if I was okay...as I wasn't keeping up! I assured them I was....playing the long game takes patience...something learned over many months on the roads in good old Northern Ireland. Before I knew it Shaun broke rank and I trundled past one, two and then I was in front.
We rode through a forested area and downhill. Usually you'd be expecting a whoo-hoo at this point. But. What goes down....and all that. Yes a hill, an undulation appeared and so did a bit of rain. I made my way slowly along the unsealed, rocky, sandy road and round a corner. Boom! A headwind made my life very difficult. Thranness is a wonderful attribute and a must for a charity bike ride. Could the settlement just ahead of me be the lunch stop. Yes!!! And there's a van. It doesn't look like our van, but maybe Sam is about there somewhere.
The closer I got the more I realised Sam wasn't there. I was hungry by this stage and none too enamoured with the incline ahead of me. Some carbo gel was consumed and a glug or two of water would help stem hunger for a while. George had joined me by this stage and was avoided getting splashed full on by a passing 4x4. I wasn't so fortunate! The bounder!!
On and on we slogged. Yet another downhill presented itself with the depressing reality of a surely following uphill. And what an uphill it was. The hardcore was very much to the surface and it was a long slow bumpy ride to the top. Long straight uphills are moral sapping as you can see the top but your sluggish pace makes the road seem never ending, like the scene in Wallace and Grommit's 'The wrong trousers' were Wallace is laying down seemingly endless pieces of track to keep the train running.
George set an even pace and so it was that Sam, his van, and more importantly lunch hoved into view. Thank you Lord. We rounded the corner and took our leave of our bikes. Tired legs aside. Near hypothermic experiences well behind me, I took in an awesome view from our lofty lunch
spot. Shaun arrived shortly thereafter, uttered something you wouldn't mention to those of a nervous or ladylike disposition and lay prostrate on the ground. As usual though Sam's fine fayre restored our energy levels, and Irish humour being what it is the laughter replaced the moans. Another canine friend appears and it ran to whoever called it, immediately rolling over for a tummy rub. Someone else called it and doggie ran to them and rolled over instantly. That dog had it made.
No one in the group had found the day thus far easy. And we were buoyed up with Henck's assurance that it was downhill all the way to Knysna. People were just a big slower at getting on their trusty steads and I found myself with Henck enjoying our immediate downhill section. A wry smile came over his face when, turning the corner into an undulation, I reminded him of his pronouncement of no more hills. "Maybe they won't notice!"
It appeared they didn't. By the time we reached the Groot Boom (big tree) stop no one mentioned the hill. Henck had been right. The really long downhill section had recharged flagging adrenalin levels, and erased the memories of wind, rain, freezing tempartures and (seemingly) never ending uphills.
Groot Boom, giant yellow tree was, well, big, but a tree nonetheless. No sequoia mind you. Suitably unimpressed we set off on what proved to be a really rather long section of dirt road. Thanks to some recent rainfall some section were pure mud. Eventually the tar road beckoned again. As we were only a short distance from Knysna I felt it time to break out the Jelly Babies!
A short sharp uphill led us to the start of the township. Wow! People were living in "houses" which ranged from four panel fence sections with polythene roof to a garden sheds. Occasionally
brick houses with corrugated tin roofs broke through. But what really stood out were the business operating from lorry containers! There is an optimism and spirit of survival which is inspiring, in spite of the appalling poverty and neglect.
Our route took us on the road through the township, over the N2 flyover, and actually in through a particularly humbling section of the township. The people seemed friendly to these nice white folks, riding their fancy mountain bikes en route to their nice hotel. It does make you uncomfortable to realise just how much we have and how little these folks make do with.
As soon as we had entered the township we left, hanging a right onto the N2 and hunching down on the handlebars we let rip downhill into Knysna. Henck was at hand at the appropriate junction, directing us left and on about 200 metres to our motel. Just across the lagoon were really fancy detached houses, with a stunning view of the hillside behind us, and the township!
The evening was rounded off with a lovely meal at the habourfront. We retired to bed knowing, somewhat ruefully in my case that tomorrow was indeed the last day.
73km (8km tarmac, 65km dirt/unsealed)
Tempting as it was to get up at 5am to go walkabout with the "wild" animals, I opted for lying in bed! Bearing in mind the grimness of the last 20km yesterday I wasn't up for it. I did hear muted voiced in the main room - thought it was George and Mary, but it turned out it was Doc. Sophie who was cadging a cup of tea from George. Apparently the walkabout was very enjoyable, but they were the only two, plus Henck, who went for it!
Looking out the front window when I did get up at 6am I was despondent to see the low cloud still there, and everything looking very wet. It wasn't actually raining, more that slightly moist air you get in fog/mist.
Breakfast was great, and we got loaded up, and into Sam's van. They were treating us to a ride to the tar road! Woooo!! Unless you did the ride the night before you have no idea how happy we were with that simple pleasure.
All too soon the end of the dirt road appeared and it was out and at it. The rain was starting and the breeze already picking up. Foolishly, as it turned out I took off my fleece thinking it would be too warm riding with it under my light rain jacket - it was South Africa after all. I wasn't expecting this weather.
Things weren't too bad for the first few kilometres. We crossed over the staggered crossroads and onto our favourite unsealed/dirt road which would take us up and over the Prince Alfred Pass. Well. The rain got heavier. The wind continued to blow. I got progressively colder. The rain wasn't soaking me but it made the light rain jacket stick to my skin and thus get colder. As the blood withdrew from my skin my shoulders got cold and then sore. The back of my right hand went numb and did my thumb, and an intense pain shot up my index finger. The left hand, strangely enough wasn't too bad. Thranness yet again made me plough on to the top of the pass.
By this time I was shaking really quite badly, and uncontrollably. Sam ordered me into the van where the heater was on full blast. When the rest of the crew arrived they all bailed in as well for sanctuary from the awful conditions.
Dr. Sophie was so concerned by my shaking (which I couldn't even stop for a second) that I think she was going to make me sit out the ride until I warmed up. Thankfully I warmed up sufficiently to avoid the ignominy of such a fate, and with the doc's body wamer (I was so cold my brain didn't even register to put my fleece back on) I set off down the undulation, sorry, hill road.
When you're still shaking from the cold and wet, it's hard to appreciate whether the road is bumpy or it's just you shaking!! But the downhill, once my shoulders stopped aching, and my hand wasn't numb was actually great fun with some just amazing mist shrouded scenery. It's no exaggeration to say that you needed to be there to appreciate the scale and wonder of the scenery. A photograph just wouldn't do it justice.
The group was to stop at the coffee house at the bottom of the pass. Analise and her one room shop was such a welcome sight. Bless her. A winning lottery ticket would not have been more welcome than her cups of tea and milk tart. And muffins! That and the sun broke out. Hallelujah!!
Soon enough it was time to de-robe the outer layers and back in the saddle. A long steady climb ensued, both in terms of the geography and the temperatue. It was soon time for a stop to peel off the inner layers and normal service was resumed.
This was a day full of undulations including one ridicuously steep section. It was so steep, a couple of passing 4x4 occupants were taking photographs of us! "Crazy fools" you could almost hear them say. At the top of this nut job section it was water and sun cream time, and time for a hearty pat on the back.Lunch was on the cards. Sam would be at the top of the final hill. Yes, I actually think Henck used the 'h' word.
Of course, the question which was begged was....where or rather when is the "final hill"? Of course off we set. Neil, George and Shaun headed off in a front to back line, whilst I trundled on at my merry 6 or 7 miles an hour. I was asked if I was okay...as I wasn't keeping up! I assured them I was....playing the long game takes patience...something learned over many months on the roads in good old Northern Ireland. Before I knew it Shaun broke rank and I trundled past one, two and then I was in front.
We rode through a forested area and downhill. Usually you'd be expecting a whoo-hoo at this point. But. What goes down....and all that. Yes a hill, an undulation appeared and so did a bit of rain. I made my way slowly along the unsealed, rocky, sandy road and round a corner. Boom! A headwind made my life very difficult. Thranness is a wonderful attribute and a must for a charity bike ride. Could the settlement just ahead of me be the lunch stop. Yes!!! And there's a van. It doesn't look like our van, but maybe Sam is about there somewhere.
The closer I got the more I realised Sam wasn't there. I was hungry by this stage and none too enamoured with the incline ahead of me. Some carbo gel was consumed and a glug or two of water would help stem hunger for a while. George had joined me by this stage and was avoided getting splashed full on by a passing 4x4. I wasn't so fortunate! The bounder!!
On and on we slogged. Yet another downhill presented itself with the depressing reality of a surely following uphill. And what an uphill it was. The hardcore was very much to the surface and it was a long slow bumpy ride to the top. Long straight uphills are moral sapping as you can see the top but your sluggish pace makes the road seem never ending, like the scene in Wallace and Grommit's 'The wrong trousers' were Wallace is laying down seemingly endless pieces of track to keep the train running.
George set an even pace and so it was that Sam, his van, and more importantly lunch hoved into view. Thank you Lord. We rounded the corner and took our leave of our bikes. Tired legs aside. Near hypothermic experiences well behind me, I took in an awesome view from our lofty lunch
spot. Shaun arrived shortly thereafter, uttered something you wouldn't mention to those of a nervous or ladylike disposition and lay prostrate on the ground. As usual though Sam's fine fayre restored our energy levels, and Irish humour being what it is the laughter replaced the moans. Another canine friend appears and it ran to whoever called it, immediately rolling over for a tummy rub. Someone else called it and doggie ran to them and rolled over instantly. That dog had it made.No one in the group had found the day thus far easy. And we were buoyed up with Henck's assurance that it was downhill all the way to Knysna. People were just a big slower at getting on their trusty steads and I found myself with Henck enjoying our immediate downhill section. A wry smile came over his face when, turning the corner into an undulation, I reminded him of his pronouncement of no more hills. "Maybe they won't notice!"
It appeared they didn't. By the time we reached the Groot Boom (big tree) stop no one mentioned the hill. Henck had been right. The really long downhill section had recharged flagging adrenalin levels, and erased the memories of wind, rain, freezing tempartures and (seemingly) never ending uphills.
Groot Boom, giant yellow tree was, well, big, but a tree nonetheless. No sequoia mind you. Suitably unimpressed we set off on what proved to be a really rather long section of dirt road. Thanks to some recent rainfall some section were pure mud. Eventually the tar road beckoned again. As we were only a short distance from Knysna I felt it time to break out the Jelly Babies!
A short sharp uphill led us to the start of the township. Wow! People were living in "houses" which ranged from four panel fence sections with polythene roof to a garden sheds. Occasionally
brick houses with corrugated tin roofs broke through. But what really stood out were the business operating from lorry containers! There is an optimism and spirit of survival which is inspiring, in spite of the appalling poverty and neglect.Our route took us on the road through the township, over the N2 flyover, and actually in through a particularly humbling section of the township. The people seemed friendly to these nice white folks, riding their fancy mountain bikes en route to their nice hotel. It does make you uncomfortable to realise just how much we have and how little these folks make do with.
As soon as we had entered the township we left, hanging a right onto the N2 and hunching down on the handlebars we let rip downhill into Knysna. Henck was at hand at the appropriate junction, directing us left and on about 200 metres to our motel. Just across the lagoon were really fancy detached houses, with a stunning view of the hillside behind us, and the township!
The evening was rounded off with a lovely meal at the habourfront. We retired to bed knowing, somewhat ruefully in my case that tomorrow was indeed the last day.
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