06h00, Thursday morning, the 3^rd of September. The sun rising over the Indian Ocean sees seven of us merry campers boarding the ferry, to get taken across the Kei River to the northern bank, where we are due to start a new adventure in just less than 30 minutes.

The Wild Run is a three day event, organized by Owen Middleton, (of Trail Series fame).  The concept is built on a simple formula: three days of running, (about 112km in all, but more on this later), through some of the moist beautiful coastline South Africa has to offer.  The organisers lay on one seconding table a day, (roughly half way through the day’s stage). And the daily stops are at quaint little hotels, right on the beach, that allow you to wash, and refuel with all life’s essentials, before continuing on the next day. The size (or to be more precise, the lack of size) of these hotels, means that only about 70 fortunate souls can be accommodated, so the field will always be small and intimate, (just the way I like it)..

Once on the other side, we start talking with the groups that crossed with us, whilst we wait for the second load of runners to cross behind us. We meet The Balito Babes, (six ladies from Balito), who seem like they will be a fitting match to the Beer Bus contingent that are down for the run. Mark and I also meet some old mates from last year’s Odyssey. As we wait for the start, there is idle chatter about the relative merits of which route to take. That’s one of the beauties of this run. There isn’t a specific route or course prescribed. Just find your own way to the finish each day.

Day One

The siren sounded, and we set off into the sunrise, around the first point, having decided to keep on the beach. It wasn’t long before the first comments were flying about how interesting 42km on the sand was going to be.

The running was amazing! The organisers had specially selected the dates (and the start time each morning), to coincide with Spring tides. This ensured we had the most beach, and pretty firm conditions underfoot. And the weather was also very kind to us: a gentle cool breeze, but otherwise beautiful clear sunny skies.

We ran on, over the first river crossing, and past the wreck of the Jacaranda.

The half way mark on day one was at Wavecrest. We stopped to find co-sponsor Gu had laid on a table of recovery drinks. We filled our hydration packs, and lay on the grass a while to chat and unwind. So chilled. No rush. Just enjoying life, and the company of friends.

Then it was time to go, and we waded across the first of many rivers,. The cold water was bracingly cool and refreshing on our hot feet. We started to run again, the pace was easy, and the chirps were flying thick and fast....

As the day wore on, the temperature began to soar, and with about 5km left to run, we thought it would be sensible to pop in to the hotel at Mazeppa Bay for a quick drink. Ice cold cokes whilst sitting on the veranda were just what the doctor ordered. I managed a beer-shandy. Damn this race was tough...

Onto the finish of day one, and the first of the proper river crossings, the Qhorha River. One presumes that rivers flow into the sea: Well they probably do when the tide is going out. But when it’s coming in, well then the sea is flowing into the river! (As some of us found as they were dumped on the rocks, far upstream on the other side). Nothing like a 30 – 40 m swim in the refreshing waters of the Indian Ocean to end the stage off. Then it was a short trot across the beach, and up the stairs of the Cobb Inn, our first overnight stop. We were greeted as we ran in by some of the staff playing traditional music, (especially for Greenie)! A swim in the pool, smash down some ice cold Millers, lunch overlooking the sea...Some more Millers, whilst awaiting my massage session, also conducted on the lawn overlooking the sea...I was really starting to enjoy this!

Every evening before dinner we were all called together to celebrate the days happenings. Spot prizes are given for some quirky behaviour; photos of the days running are displayed on screen. The day’s winners are acknowledged. Then a race briefing for tomorrow’s stage is given. The atmosphere was always very relaxed and chilled, and even on Day One, you could see the camaraderie was starting to develop. Then it’s dinner, a few more beers to help with the hydration, and at about 21h00, everyone seems to get very tired, all of a sudden. We made our way back to our chalets, and crashed, as the mornings start early on this run, and the running, fresh air, and Millers had taken their toll.

Day Two.

The morning of Day Two arrived, and on making my way back from breakfast to my chalet to pack up, I came upon a fabulous discovery on the grass outside the room... A G-string! I snatched it up immediately, not quite knowing what I would do with it, but sure I would think of something... By the time I arrived at the start, I was wearing it something like a skull-cap, with the strings wrapped around my ears. But concealed under my cap... I unveiled my headdress with some fanfare just before the start, and in my announcement, appealed to the lady who had lost her knickers, to step forward, and explain how they came to have been left on the grass over night? There were no takers. So I selflessly volunteered to run with them on my head for the rest of the day, sure that someone would pluck up the courage to claim them... (not)! From that moment on, I was no longer Andrew, I became “the g-string man”....

Day Two is much like Day One: Beautiful beach running, with the occasional crossing to hill running on the many cattle paths that follow the coast line.

We were to cross through into Dwessa Nature Reserve too, and based on some of Owen’s predictions the night before at race briefing, I looked forward to this, as it promised more beautiful scenery too. Shortly after the half way mark, and refreshments, we were greeted by the fence and gate at Dwesa, and found most of the field ahead of us had been detained by the National Parks folks there. It seems that the alarm went out when Dayle and about six of the other racing snakes went charging through, and the rest of the field had been captured. Nothing serious... Just the guy in charge who Owen had arranged this with had gone on leave for the day, and had neglected to tell anyone else about our plans to run through. So we camped out in the shade and waited whilst the negotiations to free us took place, and for the back markers to catch us, so we could all leave together in one big group. I called Tamryn back at HQ, just to make sure they knew. She was most concerned, and promised that this delay would not affect our times, and she had “stopped the clock”. Like I cared! What clock?

And then we were released, and this is where it went a bit pear shaped... The authorities insisted we run on the roads, not through the bush or on the beach. They gave out a few scruffy maps, and suggested we run through the park to exit at Gate 5....  Once the large group started off, there was some dissention in the ranks, and some guys decided to break off down to the beach and duck, whilst the good guys like us decided to follow the letter of the law and run to gate 5.  What they didn’t tell us though, was that some kind soul had decided to remodel the signage in the park. The signs were twisted round, so whilst we thought we were obediently running up to Gate 5, we ended up at Gate 2. Which is on the top of a large mountain. And which is blocked off. 5km from the beach.... Today’s 38km run has just turned into a 48km run

It was at this point that Mark “Hardman” Ledeboer issued one of the chirps of the run: He was broken. He realises our predicament: He bends down, hands on knees, and issues the comment:

“F@ck! Just bury me here!”

Well this amused the rest of us greatly, and he was parodied for this for the rest of the run. We had no choice but to run back down to the beach, and follow the sea again. But no one really cared. We were here, and had nothing better to do than run in the company of good friends.

Five contestants from “Survivor Dwesa”, on arriving back at the beach. From left, Rob Liddle, Andy Challis, Andrew “G-String” Wynne, Mark Ledeboer and Craig Brown. Notice Craig giving a recital of the “F@ck, bury me here pose”

It made Day Two pretty long, and by the time we got to do that day’s big river crossing, (The Xhora River), the tide was coming in with a vengeance. But we had learnt our lessons on day one, so entered right at the mouth, and didn’t fight the rip as it pushed us up river during the 60m crossing. We were properly hungry, tired and thirsty, and our late arrival meant we had to drink Millers much faster to fit the same number in given the limited time available to us....

Day Three

Sunrise on Day Three, behind the lighthouse at The Haven. This day had arrived too soon. We knew this race was going to come to an end, but we weren’t looking forward to it. Owen had told us at race briefing the night before that whilst at 32km, this was the shortest stage, it still had a serious sting in its tail, with about 1000m of vertical gain during the day, mostly along the cliffs in the last 12km.

I decided to stretch my legs, and so I snuck off from the Bus at the start, and just allowed myself the freedom of running the last day at my own pace... just letting the beach and hills come to me. I ran most of the day in complete solitude, occasionally picking up some guys in the distance, and running them down, and then I would be alone again. A sense of desolation, and elation. It was absolutely sensational.

Owen wasn’t exaggerating about Day Three. The hills in the last 12km are big. Often there are no paths. But the hills are covered with soft grass, and littered with wild aloes. Once again, route selection plays an important role: A guy I overtook twice, ended up ahead of me on the final climb, as he had made some clever selections of line or route (beach or hills) in the last 10km.

But cresting the last rise, nothing mattered anymore. There, maybe 300 - 400m below me lay the last river to cross. The finish, opposite the staggering beauty of The Hole In The Wall. I sank down onto my knees, gulping in air from the exertion of the climb, and let out a huge cry. Satisfaction. Appreciation. Joy.

I scrambled down the slope, and crashed through the water to the finish. I collected my medal, stripped off, and went for a swim in the sea. An ice cold beer. A massage on the grass under the trees. We spent the rest of the morning lying in the shade, welcoming in the runners as they crested the ridge, and made their way across the river to the finish. Times or position was immaterial.

We were transported from the finish at about 15h00, to our hotel in Coffee Bay. The mood was great, everyone was relaxed, and had had a great couple of days. The sundowners on the deck were flying, and everyone was competing to by their new mates a drink. The last prize giving and presentation was emotional. It was obvious everyone had had an amazing time, and that Owen and Tamryn, (and the rest of the organising team), had scored the highest marks they could in bringing this event off so well on its first running.

We had dinner, and then a party started. One of those cool spontaneous things that just happen. They can’t be organised. People just letting their hair down, music pumping, drinks flowing, new friends celebrating an amazing trip. You would never have guessed that the crowd had just done about 120km of beach running in the last few days. We danced arm-in-arm, and drank into the wee hours....

Guys, if you didn’t do this run this year, sorry for you. For those of you who procrastinated, and thought maybe next year, sorry for you. This race was an perfect  example of that old saying, “seize the day”. I don’t think we can begin to know how fortunate we are in this country, with the runs that we have on offer, through the country that we have the blessing to run. This particular race rates as the most fun you can have running. Period. And you can quote me on that. If you got your name on the waiting list his year, there is a slim chance you might get in next year. But only slim, because my guess is that everyone that ran will cancel everything else to be there and run it again next year. And everyone that did run is going to be telling everyone they know just how much fun they had doing it. This race will never have to advertise itself again. It will always be sold out, within an hour or two of opening.

And so, to the organisers: Well done for pulling off such a well run event. So much more relaxed, and more fun than Odyssey last year. Just the right amount of attention to safety and detail. But never more focus on the leaders, than on those at the back. I am sure this run has cemented a reputation being solidly built on your hard work in the last two years of the Trail Series.

Well done to Dayle for winning the first running of this race, on all three days. He makes me sick. He makes it look so easy. J

Well done to Rob Liddle for coming back from the edge. It was only December last year Rob was lying in hospital after having a malignant tumour removed from his stomach. None of us knew if you were even going to pull through. We missed you at Oceans and Comrades this year Buddy, and it’s wonderful to have you back.

Lastly to Adidas: Wow. I don’t think I have ever seen a sponsor bring so much to an event. Not just the tonnes of kit we got given, (including trail shoes, beautiful shirts, a kit bag, etc), but the daily spot prizes, (sun glasses, hydration bags caps, bottles). And the brand ambassador, Ragna. Ragna seemed to be everywhere she needed to be, getting her hands dirty, always smiling, and striving to assist, helping make sure everything ran as smoothly as it did. Ragna, never has a brand ambassador been such an ambassador to her brand. I am so glad to hear we can look forward to your commitment to next year’s run.

Ragna Nilssen: World’s greatest Brand Ambassador, hard at work polishing her brand and still looking like a million bucks after a very late night on Saturday!

I am just back from running Mont Aux Sources this weekend, only one week later after returning from the Wild Coast. This was my second Monty, and man, my legs were tired! Perhaps I bit off a bit more than I could chew, doing these events “back-to-back”. After three runs of Monty, you qualify for a permanent number. So over a beer last night, we were chatting, and we have a suspicion that next year’s date for Monty will clash with the Wild Run.

Bummer.

It looks like I won’t be getting my permanent number for Monty next year then. I will be down at the Wild Coast, running on endless unspoilt beaches....

The author, committing to a river crossing....

Special mention and thanks to fellow runner Kelvin Trautman for supplying many of the images in this blog. Photo credit © Kelvin Trautman | kelvintrautman.com

Newsflash.....

Andrew is recovering well in hospital, shortly after the infamous G-String was found in the bottom of his kit bag (by his long suffering wife), on his return from the recent weekend away. It appears the stories of this article of clothing were actually a swine flu mask had little effect....