Suffering and glory

On a quest to find meaning in the modern world, Jon Minster entered a crazy vintage cycle race through the Karoo.

- Nicolene Louw

It’s late afternoon somewhere near Middelpos, which is near nowhere, and I’ve just ridden over a snake. A big snake. I didn’t do it on purpose; it slithered out in front of me as I was trying to pedal through a section of loose sand. It got a fright, I got a fright and now it’s gone and I’m standing in the road with my heart hammering.

If it managed to escape, maybe I didn’t ride over it. Or maybe I imagined the whole incident. I’m in a fairly hallucinogenic state after already having ridden 170 km, with 30 km of rocky, sandy gravel still to go.

The worst part is that this 200 km ordeal is just the first stage of the 2016 Tour of Ara. There are five more stages to follow, each potentially as difficult.

I get off my bike and stand there in the silence, suddenly quite afraid. Why did I enter this race?

I entered because I had a notion that modern, middle-class life is too easy. In the physical sense, that is. Our ancestors were tired at the end of each day. Not brain-weary from thinking too much about global warming or school fees or what to buy from Pick n Pay for dinner; they were physically exhausted from carrying heavy things, building stuff and walking far.

Travel has also become far too cushy. Getting to the wilderness is a simple matter of ubering to the airport, flying to a dusty country, maybe catching another connecting flight, jumping into a Land Cruiser and sipping Johnny Black at the waterhole.

And driving long distance? Please. Joburg to Durban is something people do before brunch, coasting over the Drakensberg in an air-conditioned Audi as if the mountain range doesn’t exist.