Outer Edge Magazine

You know you’re in for a prolonged session of pain when the 722km mountain bike course that you’re about to tackle over eight days is designed by someone known to all as ‘Dr Evil’, as Outer Edge–sponsored rider Naomi Hansen discovered competing in the Cape Epic in South Africa.

WORDS Naomi Hansen
IMAGES Sportzpics.net and sportograf.com

Doctor Evil, or Leon Evans, as his mother called him, is matter-of-fact about the mountain bike course that is both the dream and undoing of so many international riders.

“It’s a demanding course, one of the most demanding I’ve ever set,” says Leon. “But over 80 per cent of our starters finished, so it’s far from impossible. For those who had the time to look around they would have seen some of our country’s best vistas.

“I do, however, spend 18 months thinking through, researching and riding the course, all in complete secrecy, so there were also a fair few well-thought-out challenges thrown in there in terms of technical riding, in terms of endurance and, just to ensure I live up to my nickname, a few heartbreaking moments for the sheer hell of it.”

Despite the fact that his job is to deliver pleasure (the view) and pain (the terrain) in equal measure, Leon is optimistic about the former delivering him more than kudos come race end. Writing on Twitter prior to the race he says: “If you enjoy the ride, buy me a beer at the end.”

I don’t know about shouting him a round but I do know the kind of Hell that Leon conjures up in his nefarious dreams, having raced the ABSA Cape Epic in the mixed category in 2009, placing 10th alongside my partner, Andy. It hurt, but I’d argue that masochism is part of any mountain biker’s psyche profile. I came back for more, so it’s definitely part of mine.

Regarded among those who know as one of the toughest, if not the toughest multiday endurance mountain bike race in the world, the Cape Epic was born in 2004. It was dreamt up by South African Kevin Vermaak while he rode the La Ruta de los Conquistadores, another multiday event held annually in Costa Rica. The Epic has since grown to become the most televised mountain bike race in the world, the first team MTB stage race to be awarded Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI) status and the only MTB stage race to be classified HC (hors categorie), placing it in the same pedigree as the Tour de France. No wonder the event attracts the world’s best cross-country and marathon mountain bikers, bar none.

The ride route is altered every year, a task that Dr Evil takes great delight in over 18 months of deliberation. It’s designed not only to test riders physically and mentally, but also to expose them to the African landscape through which each stage passes. It has to be said though, that from where I sit, there’s not a lot of time to admire the view. There is just too much work to be done. The Epic pushes its 600 teams of two up a total 14,635 metres of thigh-screaming ascent. The fact that many starters will not finish this gruelling race is a given. It’s just a matter of how many.

This year I returned with a new riding partner and with hopes of a podium place in the female teams category, riding under the Amy Gillet Foundation/Outer Edge banner. 

It’s always a risk introducing fresh blood to the world’s toughest mountain bike race, but with first choice partner, elite Victorian rider Rebecca Locke, going unexpectedly under the surgeon’s knife three weeks prior to race start, I was left frantically looking for a last minute replacement. Enter New Zealand rider Erin Greene, fresh from winning the female team category in the massive Alpine Epic in New Zealand. Happy with such credentials, and knowing she was comfortable with long days in the saddle, I signed her up, impressing that I wanted that podium finish. No pressure, then.

In adventure, and especially in mountain biking, good plans are always trashed and rehashed. This race was to be no exception. With a pulverising day one and temperatures that would bake an egg on your helmet, Erin had a meltdown, literally, spending two days in hospital after collapsing across the finish line with a body temp in the vicinity of 42oC. That’s a scary number, considering doctors will tell you (if you’re even able to listen) that you’re at risk of going into a coma, you’re in a state of severe delirium and vomiting and convulsions can occur. One degree higher and death comes knocking.

This was a factor brought home all too hard for the Australian contingent in the following days. It wasn’t, however, heat that – to the shock of all – killed mountain biker, James Williamson. Known as Mr Nice of the Australian mountain biking scene, and familiar to many as the editor of Enduro magazine and a regular contributor to Outer Edge, ‘Willo’ was no stranger to severe punishment on the track. The former World 24-hour Solo Champion and regular lead-pack rider in enduro events across Australia and the globe was found not breathing in his tent on the third morning by riding partner, Shaun Lewis.

A post race autopsy revealed that his death was not caused through over exertion, heat or the use of anything illicit, as some internet chatter misleadingly insinuated. Doctors found Willo’s heart had a genetic weakness that, like a time bomb, was always set to go off at some point. He passed away peacefully in his sleep, having spent the day doing what he loved most: competing in one of the world’s elite mountain bike races among friends with a smile on his face – as always – and sitting in 18th position, no less. (See our tribute to Willo on page 23).

One aspect of the Epic that plastered a smile on Willo’s face before he passed away was undoubtedly the countryside through which we were riding. The route began in Diemersfontein amid the Wellington district famous for wineries – but for riders probably best remembered for its Bainskloof pass descent and the mountains beyond Kluytjieskraal. Overnight stops included Ceres (three nights), Worcester (two nights) and Oak Valley (two nights) with the finish line a distant hope, teasing riders beyond Gantouw Pass and the historical Voortrekker trails, in Lourensford.

During each stage we passed through a mind-boggling array of landscapes, from barren open plains and fields, almost tropical forest patches, pine forest plantations and burnt sandy moonscapes, to the obligatory rough rocky climbs and get-off-your-bike-now-or-suffer-the-consequences obstacles.

Adding to the atmosphere in the saddle was an abundance of spectators, led by local children cheering hard (although I’m unsure if it was for us to go faster or for us to fling them our stash of lollies).

A significant proportion of the route is on private land and open only for race riders and riders on the ‘Epic Trippers’ programme, which allows non-competitors a taste of the event without the pressure of racing the clock.

Each year it seems Dr Evil finds new and exciting way to test riders; last year the most significant was a cruel portage that took the best part of an hour. This year the route featured an interesting 7km of railway track riding to complete stage one, an amazing amount of single track riding in stage two, a 27km time trial for stage five, a 12km climb through Martian-style landscape on stage six and a compulsory portage through sensitive vegetation on Gamtoe Pass before descending into Lourensford.

Stages ranged from 65km to 123km with between 1625 metres and 2280 metres of climbing each day. It was all work and little play on the course, with the exception of the time trial on day five – a mere 860 metres of climbing. Neither the profiles nor the course description quite do justice to what each stage entailed. With the exception of the super elite riders we were assured a solid five to eight hours in the saddle each day and as the week progressed the mental battle emerged at all levels in the field. Tears were almost a certainty at some stage. Just what the Doctor (Evil) ordered, perhaps?

Yet the climbs were always worth the view and the sand always ended – eventually – as did the ascents – eventually – and each kilometre down was one closer to the finish. After a while, individual stages merged together and to recall each in minute detail would be to make things up. The tears, the cursing, the sore arse, sore legs, sore brain and utter fatigue were all as true as the days were long, however.

At the end of each day, riders gather in the tent city, regarded as a particularly special experience. Around 1400 tents are erected in tight formation. Pre and post ride the atmosphere is positively electric, a feeling empowered by the voice of Mike Hamel (the well-known ‘voice’ of the Epic) floating out through speakers across the field of competitors either preparing for the day ahead or recovering from the one just gone.

From the 05.00 rider-wake-up siren to lights out at 22.00, the camp is alive with chatter, music, bodies and tales of the day’s ride.  In such an environment a special camaraderie develops between riders over the eight days of racing; familiar faces in the start chute, familiar riding buddies day after day, and – for those with the energy – familiar drinking buddies in the Chill Zone (the bar). 

Such camaraderie is essential in completing this race psychologically intact. The mental and emotional support gained through the encouragement of other riders is invaluable in the closing kilometres of a stage, especially when the sand begins to suck you down and the corrugations vibrate the hell out of your brain. 

The majority of the riders in the Cape Epic aim to complete the race, tick the box and never return. Attendance is often a one-off experience as their Bucket List turns to other events, likes the Trans Rockies, Trans Alps, Trans Andes and La Ruta de los Conquistadores, ostensibly so they can experience another country and another type of race. Noble, sure, but in my books, lacking commitment.

Then there are the Adidas Amabubesi members, riders who have successfully completed a minimum three editions of the Cape Epic. ‘Amabubesi’ means “pack of lions” in Zulu. These are the riders that recognise and appreciate the event as the world’s ultimate stage race. They return annually to test themselves against the best riders on a course that is unrelenting. These riders – the likes of second place-getter Hannele Steyn-Kotze, who has now completed seven Epics – enjoy the privilege of entering the race before the general public with a guaranteed place.

I’ve managed to compete in the Epic twice now, but have racked up only one placing on the official scoreboard from my first attempt in 2009. This year, with a partner recuperating in hospital, I was allowed to race each leg, but relegated to starting each day at the back of the ‘chute’ as an unofficial rider. Encouragingly, my times were up there with the top-ranked females.

So my aim now? To return and keep returning. I want Amabubesi plastered next to my name. I want to be in that pack of mountain lions.

Next event: 27 March–3 April 2011
More information: cape-epic.com

Taking out the 2010 Cape Epic was a certified legend of the event, German Karl Platt and his countryman and teammate Stefan Sahm. Under the Bulls Bikes banner, the pair walked away with top honours in a time of 29 hours, 47 minutes and 46 seconds. In second place was South African Burry Stander and Swiss teammate Christoph Sauser (29:57.49) and in third place were the South African/Austrian duo of Kevin Evans and Alban Lakata (30:12.30).

Platt and Sahm also won the Absa Cape Epic in 2007 and 2009, while Platt won the inaugural event in 2004 with Namibian Mannie Heymans. He is the most successful participant in the history of the race having won four times and placing on the podium six times.

Says Platt: “To win the Absa Cape Epic again is absolutely unbelievable. It means so much, especially this year with the most competitive field ever. When people see our playful nature they tend to forget that we also get very nervous and are under pressure during the race; not only for our own sake, but for all the people that stand behind us and cross their fingers that we come out tops. When we crossed that final finish line it was a huge relief, but most of all an euphoric joy.”

Across the gender divide, Danish sisters Kristine and Anna-Sofie Noergaard (team Rothaus-CUBE) finished with a time of 37:31.03 to win their category, having also taken top honours in five of the eight stages in this year’s race. In second place overall in the women’s category were Hannele Steyn-Kotze (South Africa) and Ivonne Kraft (Germany) with a time of 38:01.15, and third were Swiss pair Giuliana Vitali and Tamara Horn (41:10.43). It was a record result for Hannele Steyn-Kotze from the second-placed team, who took stage honours on the last day in her home town to record her seventh Cape Epic finish.