So here is a quick race report from my crazy weekend race... I have been criticised in the past for writing too much, so I am going to attempt to condense this into something less. Besides, I fell asleep trying to write this Monday night...

What I attempted this last weekend is a special event in the Western Cape called The Midnight Hell Run. It’s a trail run, at night, out of a place affectionately known as “Die Hel” (The Hell). You have the three choices of distance, 38km, 50km, and 80km.

Die Hel is very conceivably the most remote and undeveloped valley in this country. It’s a 50km long valley, surrounded on all sides by the Swartberg Mountains. The first road went in there only in 1963. The first power line in 1998.... There are still only 3 dwellings in the valley with electricity. So last year when I found this race on some obscure internet site, it sounded like a great idea...

But I said this was going to be short. So if you don’t have time to read the whole thing, the best way to describe my weekend was to ask you to do the following:

Setup the PVR. Record a couple of episodes of Survivor, and a few of the Amazing Race. Then play them back simultaneously on separate TV’s watching both at once, whilst running on a treadmill in a dark room for the weekend.  Let me explain why I say this...

I left home in Fourways at 07h00 Saturday morning. I was collected by Dr. Andre Lombard, an amazing friend I met first on the Cape Odyssey in 2008. He is accompanied by his wife Joan, and a friend Amanda. We drive to OR Tambo, and put the car in the parking. Check in, and fly to George. Collect our bags, sort out a hire car (4 x 4 the best option given where we are off to). We then set off at pace en-route to Prince Albert, (230km / 3hours according to Garmin). Drive like hell, past Oudsthoorn, and over the Swartberg Pass. Stop at the top and have “Padkos” on the side of the road.

LUNCH, SWARTBERG PASS STYLE... Eating on the run, before a run.  The stuff that looks like cat food in the Tupperware box on the left is a packet of tuna, mixed in with some lentils. The lamb chop (or what is left of it) was Andre’s left over’s from dinner Friday night. Amanda provided peanut butter and honey sandwiches. As we didn’t have a plate, (and only 1 plastic spoon to share), we found that the best way to eat this was to scoop up some of the cat food on a quarter of the sandwich. Tasted like a million bucks, and the amazing views finished it all off so well. This was all chased down with the dregs of Andre’s 5 year old KWV brandy....His hipflask was broken in his bag by some rough baggage handling, so there was not much left. This left his running kit with a tremendously fragrant aroma, and I had to settle myself to the concept of running 80km with a running mate that smelt like a “Bergie”...  J

The Lunch Spot: This was the scene of the crime at lunch. The path off and down to the left is essentially the start of the last 30km of the 80km route. You drop off through those pretty looking gullies, and down into Prince Albert in the valley on the horizon....

Back in the car, and down the other side of the pass. Arrive in Prince Albert at registration at 15h00.

Register, and go find yourself somewhere to pack your hydration bag, change etc...

THE LAP OF LUXURY: Andre trying out the designer bedding. The race registration is held in a proper “koshuis” boarding school block, so after wandering around a bit, we found an empty room and start sorting our stuff out, deciding on what to wear, and what to carry in our bags. Nothing luxurious, but at this stage we didn’t care.

SUPERMAN BARS: Andre  shares some of his world famous “Superman cakes” with me, that he has made with his own fair hands. The recipe is a family secret, but includes a blend of performance boosting cereal powders, smashed up Christmas cake, coconut oil, Ouma’s homemade apricot jam, (and yes, this is the Ouma that is in her eighties, and did the parachute jump with the rest of the family when they did their holiday together in December)! And of course, some additional 5 year old KWV! Enough calories to power a small space shuttle into orbit. All this, wrapped up in little grease proof paper parcels...

We were downstairs for race briefing and dinner in the “koshuis” at 17h00. This is when the race organiser breaks the good news that everyone is going to have to get themselves to the start. Now the start is 80km away, in the most remote valley left in SA, down some serious dirt roads.  So we are advised to talk amongst ourselves, and make a plan. And do it quickly, because we need to leave in 10 mins, or we will miss the start.  We have a hired Nissan X Trail, but as all four of us our running, we need a driver who will bring it back out for us. We can’t find one of these, so we give up, and start looking for others we can get a lift with.

We eat what is presented as dinner. I christen it “Trans Fatty Acid Lasagne”. Oily meat lasagne, with tomato floating in added oil. All bound together with lashings of oily cheese.... I slop some on a plate, along with a dry bun and some apricot jam. I run around with my plate of “Take away heart attack”, trying to find a lift amongst the chaos, whilst wolfing down the food. We manage to find a few spaces in different vehicles. Next, rush upstairs to change into race kit, throw the bags into the cars, and off we go for what we are told is another three hour drive into Die Hel....

The ride into “Die Hel” in the back of a pickup truck is less than magical. The journey itself is deserving of a complete race report. But let’s just say that 3 hours later, I arrive at the start of the race, feeling less than it tip top form. It’s now 20h45, 15 mins before the start of an 80km trail run. I have been travelling for about 12 hours today. The Trans Fatty Acid lasagne, and the three hour trip on rough, wiggly dirt mountain passes leaves me feeling more than a little nauseous. Just to top it off, there is no water available to fill up my hydration pack. I beg and steal about 500ml from a two litre coke bottle that is making the rounds.

The race starts at 21h00. The full moon is absolutely stunning, and once we are running, everything gets better. My nerves start to settle, and it’s an amazing scene when you look ahead or behind: just headlamps bobbing or floating along invisible trails, in an amazing silence.

At 12km, the real climbing starts in earnest though. The Elands Pass is not something I will forget in a hurry. Let’s see if you can spot it for yourself in the route profile below:

Here is a picture of the pass taken in daylight, from about halfway up:

This is 600m of climb, over 6km. For context, Constantia Nek at Oceans is about 200m in 4km. But half way up, the nausea is overwhelming me. I try a few dry retches, to no avail. I think the combination of the Trans Fatty Acid Lasagne, and the 3 hour commute down the mountain is finally taking its toll. If I can just hang on until the first water point at 14km though...

There is no water at 14km. I watch the last dregs of water being poured into hydration bags as I run up to the lone 20 litre drum that was left by the organisers. Do the maths: If there are about 100 guys doing the three different runs, all carrying hydration bags, 20 litres is never going to cut it... But hey, I did enter something called The Midnight Hell Run didn’t I, and I am sure I will get at 24km...

No. Not there either. That is also finished. I am offered water by other kind and caring souls I meet along the way, but don’t feel good about pinching water from them, with no other known source before the 50km mark. Fortunately I eventually find a discarded bottle on the side of the road at about 39km, and get enough out of that to top me up until 50km. Fortunately too, Andre runs ahead, and then comes back to find me with an anti-nausea tablet he has found Amanda has in her bag. There are virtues to running with a Doc, and a lady that has a bag that looks like she just robbed a small pharmacy! This pill kicks in at about 40km, and I start feeling stronger. I still can’t face the taste of anything except water though, so at about 03h00 on Sunday morning, Andre and I make a collective call  that we are scribbling the 80km idea, and will finish at 50km.

With the pressure off, and with the amazing feeling of water joggling in my belly, I start to relax and take in the magic of this valley at night. The moon seems massive, and so bright without the smog to contend with. We run most of the night with our headlamps off. There is no need for them. At about 04h00 in the morning, I see Scorpio rise in the east. With the context of the mountains, the scale of this galaxy is truly apparent. This really is a special experience.

Now they tell you...: We found this sign at about 04h00 in the morning, 2km from the end of the 50km....

We run into the race hut at 50km at 04h20 in the morning, (07h20 run time). 2500m vertical ascent under the belt, which is more than the 89km of Comrades, and only slightly less than Monty gives you. A good bit of time on the legs anyway, which is what we all need right now. We wolf down a few of the pancakes we were promised. The hot chocolate we were also promised is absent, but a mug of tea hits the spot though, and we lie about, swapping stories and laughing, as we watch as the sky starts to turn pink in the East...

But if you think that is the end of the Amazing Race / Survivor challenge, think again. Just like there isn’t transport to the start of the race, there isn’t transport back to the registration spot where you car and kit now wait for you. So we have to hike the 18km back to the village. We get lucky though, and Joan and Amanda use their charm to full effect, and we get a lift all the way to the door. We arrive back at 06h05, and head straight for the showers. We are sitting on the benches outside, enjoying a cup of tea and the sunrise at 06h30 when the winner of the 80km race comes in. It’s Linda Doke, at 09h30 for 80km. Second place is another lady, Jo McKenzie, in about 10 hours. We have heard that of the 27 of us that signed up for the 80, only 8 have gone through from the 50km mark though, so after seeing what passes for breakfast at the “koshuis” we pack up and head off in search of something better to eat. We visit the village dairy at the end of the street, and buy fresh yoghurt and cheese; We then find a coffee shop in a perfect location at the entrance to town, where we drink a cappuccino and eat some more, whilst we wait for more runners to come through.

It’s about 10h00 when we are getting ready to depart on the next leg of The Amazing Race, when we see a few more runners start to come through. And as we leave the village on our drive back, we pass another. I start to feel pretty good about pulling out at 50km, by Joan is gutted. But we have to get back to George, for the flight home. So we drive back over that amazing pass once more. Andre does an amazing job of staying awake at the wheel on the drive home....

Everywhere we stop, we eat and drink something We stop for an ostrich burger at a pub in Outshoorn, visit the beach briefly just outside George, just like proper Gauteng’ers, so we can say we have been in the sea.. So it’s a giant ice cream cone at the beach. And milk stout in the departure lounge at the airport. (Andre told me it was a good idea, and he is a Doctor, so who am I to argue)? When I start to think of everything I ate or drank on Sunday, I start to go green all over again...

Involuntary sleep comes on the plane on the way home. None of us could help ourselves by now.

Back to OR Tambo, we collect the luggage, and the car. We narrowly dodge getting stuck in traffic on the highway on the way home. Come on guys, it’s seven PM Sunday night! JRA just making sure you are really aware you are back home in happy Gauteng. So I get home just after 20h00 Sunday night, with 37 hours of adventure under the belt. Something more to eat, regale a few stories to the family, have a shower, and collapse. The kiss of that  cool cotton pillow case was playing on my mind a lot on Saturday night, and it  feels so good now.

So I popped down to Time Trial on Tuesday night to test the legs out, and was asked by a number of people, “would I do it again?” I will answer with another TV line: Don’t try this one at home children...

I would definitely do it again, but only if I sorted out all my own logistics and seconding.

So if you are one of those unlucky souls who didn’t get a place in this year’s Hell Run for any reason, there is still hope. Try this instead:

•  Drive down to Comrades the day of the race. That way the roads should be nice and quiet.
•  Get to Durban, and visit the registration to see them packing it up.
• Then drive up to Pietermaritzburg through the Valley of a Thousand Hills on all the roughest dirt roads you can find.
•  Arrive in PMB just before 21h00, and start the run. Make sure to follow the same route, but run on the stones on the road reserve all the way.
•  By this stage, all the water tables will be gone, and there will be no crowd support either, so it will be a good comparison.
• When you eventually get down to the stadium at dawn, it will be empty too, just like the finish was for Linda. Just three of us sitting clapping with our cups of tea...
•  Have a shower, and a coffee, and then jump in the car and drive home.

There you are. You just did something like the Hell Run!

Doc Lombard, at a road stop somewhere on the way to the middle of nowhere. Nothing happened there in 1890. Sometimes this weekend I thought there was nothing much happening in our heads either....