Panorama Tour 2011

When the Earth was made, each geographical region was given an option to select a special feature that would make it unique. Cape Town chose Table Mountain, Johannesburg went for gold, Bloemfontein forgot to hand in their request, and through a clerical error, the Lowveld's request for a single hill was misinterpreted as a request for hills. All surplus hills were delivered to the Lowveld with the result that you'll be hard pressed to find a flat piece of tar longer than 200m.

It wasn't until after we had entered the 2011 Panorama Tour that we got hold of an atlas and looked up exactly where White River is that we realised just what we were in for. Hills, hills, hills. After getting a wake up call at the Grape Escape when my partner out climbed me I vowed to not let that happen again. The solution was a two pronged approach - a rigorous training program, focusing on hills and time in the saddle, and a diet loosely based on the nutritional habits of the Dwarf Hotot rabbit.

Team 5339.co.uk finishing another stage.

After an epic plane/road trip up from the Cape we arrived in White River, our lungs already gasping in the thin air. The only positive was that we had brought the Cape winter weather with us, and instead of temperatures in the high 30s, we could look forward to sub 20C temperatures and miserable drizzle and rain for the entire event.

The feature that makes the Panorama Tour unique (apart from the over-abundance of hills) is the two-man team concept. Much like the trend set in mountain bike races like The Cape Epic and Sani2C, the team concept adds a new dimension to bike racing. Interesting tactics come into play, but nothing is more important than being stronger than your partner. The benefits include an easier ride up the hills and the chance to look around at the stunning scenery while the only obligations are an encouraging push here and there and doing a bit of work on the front when the situation requires it.

Tastiest Chelsea bun ever!

Stage One's route description was sufficiently vague enough to give the impression that the organisers had miraculously found 113km of slightly undulating road around all the bigs hills of the Lowveld. As we would slowly come to realise, route descriptions were an obvious weakness of the organising committee. I have volunteered my services for future events, and as a start I would like to offer this description for Stage One: A lung busting climb to the hotspot followed by a life threatening downhill. Some legs ripping rollers before an Alpe d'Huez like climb, with a run in to the finish that will have you wondering how you can ride more uphill than downhill on a route that starts and finishes at the same place!

The snacks made everyone forget about the hills!

Team 5339.co.uk were slightly humiliated on the first stage, with several mixed teams leaving us for dead, as well as the social MTN teams of current and former professionals. The only positive being that I had regained the stronger partner title. The girls had a much better time of things, stopping at all the water points making sure they got good value for their money, and made some friends from the East Rand in the form of the Psycle Maniacs.

The Panorama Book of Horror - not for the faint hearted!

According to the aptly renamed Panorama Book of Horror, Stage Two would be a comfortable, fast 80km ride heading out towards Nelspruit with a few gentle hills on the run in back to White River. The reality was slightly different: A blisteringly fast departure from town down a road more suited for mountain biking with potholes the size of small family cars, followed by a leg numbing climb before another speed wobble inducing series of downhills to the outskirts of Nelspruit. From there it is a balls-to-the-wall race up 20km of short sharp climbs to the welcoming sight of the finish.

Kruger snackpack - holds 3 beers perfectly

Team 5339.co.uk had a much better day out, mainly thanks to the lack of hills in the early part of the stage, and finished a handful of minutes behind the leaders. Our egos were restored as we rode several minutes into the mixed teams, and our place on GC looked a bit more respectable. The girls had given up any notions of racing, and instead were enjoying the tour part of the Panorama Tour, stopping at water points and taking in the scenery and making new friends.

An elephant with a fascinator

With the short fast stage behind us we headed off to the Kruger National Park for a rapid game viewing trip. After several false alarms, and boring bird sightings (both mostly Yolanda's fault) we hit the jack pot and saw some elephants and kudu AT THE SAME TIME. With the whole world interested in Princess Beatrice's fascinator, the elephant tried to get in on the action. Looking like strange German tourists in tights we had lunch on top of a rock outside Skukuza, before slowly heading back to civilisation.

Where are the animals?

While the Panorama Book of Horror tried its best to downplay the severity of Stage Three, we had mastered the ability of reading between the lines in order to know what lay in wait for us. The first half of Stage Three was the same as the last half of Stage one, in reverse. All the torturous uphills were now going to be lightning quick downhills, and vice versa, and then we would be faced with the murderous climb of Long Tom Pass. The last section would be the reverse of the first section of Stage Two, so once again we would be dodging swimming pool sized potholes as we tore our legs off up the climbs back into White River. Throw in some pouring rain and thick mist and Stage Three promised to have the adrenalin flowing (I quickly made sure my life insurance was up to date!).

Beer and a tractor certainly beats Game and a bicycle!

By now, Team 5339.co.uk were starting to find their legs, and after a hell raising descent into Sabie in blinding rain and near impenetrable mist we found ourselves (rather suprisingly) with the lead bunch. Riding our own pace up Long Tom Pass in zero visibility we reached the welcoming left turn a couple of minutes behind the leaders and then then tried to motivate a rather lethargic bunch to chase them down. We ended up doing most of the work and paid the price as we ran out of legs on the climb back into White River. Once again, the girls had a good day out, enjoying the pizza and vodka on offer at the last water point and finishing with their new best friends - the Psycle Maniacs.

The ladies in their time trial outfits - made them 7.84 seconds faster!

The Panorama Book of Horror was exceptionally kind about the 20 odd kilometer time trail that lay ahead of us for Stage Four, but we knew better by now. And to make us a little homesick, the weather had once again turned foul. The ladies started quite early on, and had a good solid ride to cap off a great long weekend of racing riding. Team 5339.co.uk set off with the afterburners glowing, and blitzed the first half of the course, my fear of riding downhills temporarily cured by the atrocious conditions of the previous day. Just when I was starting to do some sums about our overall time disaster struck and I punctured. With the precision of a Formula 1 pit crew we had the wheel off, tube out, new tube in, tyre pumped and wheel on in a matter of seconds (probably about 180 to be precise) and the chase was back on. The welcoming Chelsea bun capped off a great weekend's worth of racing.

Tour over - home time!

All that remained of the Panorama Tour was the packing of bikes into boxes, stocking up on avos and macadamia and cashew nuts, and a long drive back to Johannesburg for a plane trip back to the flat roads of Cape Town.

The ABSA Cape Epic - 2011

Two great events happen in the world of South African cycling in March - the roadies get their chance on the second Sunday of March to participate in The Cape Argus, the biggest timed cycling event in the world, and a couple of weeks later it is the chance of the mountain bikers to take on the toughest, most prestigious mountain bike stage race in the world - The ABSA Cape Epic.

This year I was on the other side of the candy tape, a Cape Epic spectator virgin, and I had no idea what to expect. Being a participant in the Epic is rather easy - there is a huge pool of knowledge out there with plenty of people eager to offer advice on training, equipment, nutrition, strategy and almost any other aspect of mountain bike stage racing. To be ready come race day you have to put in the training, make sure the bike is in good working order, and have a solid relationship with your partner - not much else can go wrong once the start gun goes off.

An early morning start for the foreigners

In comparison, being a spectator virgin is much like meeting your future in-laws for the first time. You don't really want to be there and would much rather be riding your bike, but it's one of those things that everybody has to do at least once. You don't know what to wear and inevitably regret your wardrobe decisions - do you wear a finisher's shirt from a previous Epic to show that you were once hardcore too? Do you rather choose an event shirt from another event to show off your versatility? Do you wear an ordinary shirt but make sure everyone can see that you are a cyclist from your legs? Do you run the risk of wearing something that will keep you warm at 6am, but by midday will have you sweating like a Pom on the London Underground in mid-summer? You're unsure of the correct etiquette - do you only shout for teams that you know, or just the teams that look good, or the teams that are struggling and need all the support they can get? Do you jump up and down and scream like you've just won the Lotto when you see your team, or do you instead employ a polite golf clap reserved for hallowed places like the 18th green at Augusta? Are vuvuzela's still all the rage, or is inflicting auditory damage on innocent bystanders so 2010?

Robin - cool and calm, Russell - about to sh*t himself!

And then there is the equipment - do you bring a chair to pass away the hours as you wait for your team that you'll have to haul across the countryside? Is it acceptable to bring a book and read while the front half of the field whizzes past? Do you bring an SLR camera with a four foot lens for that perfect photo, or just a point-and-click and adopt the strategy of taking stacks of photos with the hope that at least a few will be of sufficient quality to make the day worthwhile? Did you charge the camera batteries, or are you going to suffer from acute electrochemical failure just as your team comes into view? What shoes do you wear - do you wear flip-flops and run the risk of blisters and severe chaffing as the Epic organisers are under the mistaken impression that the spectators are as fit as the riders and enjoy the challenge of walking vast distances between the designated parking area and the actual spectator zone, or instead opt for Everest grade hiking boots and look like a missing member of a Kingsley Holgate expedition? And what about food - do you get up extra early to make sandwiches from old bread and left over mince, or do you run the risk of death by Delhi-Belly from the half-cooked greasy burger on offer at the finish for the price of an entry level mountain bike?

A very happy mountain biker!

These were some of the dilemmas that faced me, and while I did receive some tips and hints from my 4-time Epic supporter veteran wife, I think she deliberately stopped short of spilling all the beans. Becoming a seasoned Epic supporter is a rite of passage that one must do alone, and is a test of one's character, endurance, emotional stability, perseverance, navigational acumen and resourcefulness. You feel the scrutiny you are under from the other spectator veterans as they see if you have what it takes to join their ranks. It's hard work, but being part of the Epic experience makes it all worthwhile, even if it entails standing on the wrong side of the candy tape.

Completely shattered

The Argus - 2011

The annual Cape Argus Cycle Tour is more than just a bike race, it is a Cape institution. Like pilgrims to Mecca, it attracts cyclists from all over  South Africa, and once a year cycling takes over the streets of Cape Town.

Often called the Fun Ride World Champs, it is the yardstick by which all cyclists are measured. Forget about the Tour de France, or Paris-Roubaix - win The Argus and you have a lifetime's worth of bragging rights. It's the one title seven times Tour De France winner and former World Champ Lance Armstrong so desperately wanted to win before retiring but could only manage a lowly 9th place. It's the one blemish in an otherwise outstanding palmarès.

Lance could only manage 9th place in 2010.

The Cape Argus isn't just a 110km bike ride - it's an experience that starts the previous week with Grape Escape and Argus Mountain Bike Challenge. With those out of the way, it's off to the Life Cycle Expo for registration, although registration is only a small part of what happens at the Good Hope Centre. The Expo caters for those last minute must have purchases, the impulse buys, the "ride you fastest Argus ever" supplements, and the "never to be seen again" discounts. It gives each cyclist the opportunity to suss out the competition, to show off their (freshly) shaved legs, and to be the center of attention for 30 seconds as they receive their race pack. For one week, it is all about the bike.

The secret is out.

The 13th of March dawned - Race Day, and after two years of rather atrocious weather, we were greeted with possibly the best cycling weather the Cape has seen in months. While this is great for cycling 110kms around the Cape peninsula, us locals feel a little hard done by. We've had to endure months and months of howling South Easters, and now all the visitors to the Cape think we have perfect weather all the time, and that we live in a cycling Utopia. Well, we don't, and we've certainly had to pay our dues to the cycling gods.

Our puncture competition opposition dishing out the pain.
From I-FELT-the-FORCE on the Hub.

From our usual parking spot near the SARS building (they are open at 5:30 in the morning, and will let you use the toilet - our tax money hard at work) we got ready for what would be our 15th Argus in a row. While the nerves might be a little calmer than they were in 1997, several nervous visits to the SARS building were required before I headed off to line to join the Not-So-Young-Racing-Snakes category, who this year had the honour of riding with the racing ladies. The air was crisp and smelled of the sea, punctuated by the smell of the Porta Potty's and excessive deodorant. I'm pretty sure several Sub Vet riders saw this as an opportunity to pick up a hot racing lady. The only catch being that many of the racing ladies were probably faster than most of the Sub Vets.

Another Argus start.

At 6:24 we were off, and at roughly 6:32 we had our first crash in the bunch. Nothing serious, but enough for the air to be filled with the smell of brakes, melting rubber and bruised egos. Twenty minutes later we had another crash on the Blue Route and the smell of rotting garden waste from a nearby tip was blended with grazed skin and testosterone, but thankfully no one was seriously hurt. This would be the pattern in an otherwise uneventful circuit around the Peninsula - everyone watching everyone else, and the rest of us only too grateful to still be in the bunch.

When roadies crash, they crash properly.

We rode up Chapman's Peak like it was flat, the fresh sea smells mixing nicely with the body odour of the rider in front of me and before we knew it we were on the lower slopes of the dreaded Suikerbossie. A haze of bacon and eggs and boerewors rolls hung in the air as we rudely whizzed past the spectators enjoying their breakfast. With the usual suspects all around me - Craig, Marius, Zayin - we made it over the top after a brief 30 second scare as we scrambled to get onto the wheels ahead of us, but we needn't worried - the race was going to go down to a sprint finish 14kms away in front of Cape Town Stadium.

The Sub Vets and Ladies sprint finish

As the dedicated riders that we are, Craig and I decided to get some TV time for our sponsors by going to the front and taking a turn. It sounded like a great plan until we actually got to the front and realised just how much effort was required, and also noticed that the TV cameraman was more interested in filming the scenery of the coastline than the two 5339 riders on the front. Our turn done we disappeared back into the obscurity of the bunch, now just interested in getting to the line in one piece. Just when we thought there was nothing more to worry about, Craig had a slight tumble, safely falling on top of a hay bale and another rider. A short scramble later we were back in the bunch and crossing the finish line in a time of 2h49:59.

Apparently he didn't lose a bet!

The Dulux ladies had been rather coy about their target time, downplaying any suggestions of a personal best. A quick two-women time trial later they managed to cross the line in an amazing time of 3h30, convincingly beating most of the names on their list of nemeses (Nadine, The Runner, and Lexi).

The Famous Argus Cool Down Beer Run.

Craig and I embarked on our post Argus cool down, which entails having a beer in Kalk Bay, another in Glen Cairn, lunch and a beer in Noordhoek, pushing some struggling cyclists up Chapman's Peak, one last beer in Hout Bay, and pushing some other struggling cyclists up Suikerbossie. It's at the back where the true Argus is ridden - the weekend warriors relying a little too heavily on muscle memory and regretting the lack of training, battling the wind, the gradients, their ill fitting cycling shorts, their heavy and poorly serviced bicycles and each other - all with grit and sheer determination. To us it's just a medal, but to them it is an achievement and that is why we all keep on coming back for more. Bring on 2012.

Two cyclists who got rather side tracked in a pub in Glen Cairn.