Osama B’s – Race Report 2009 (Day 2) by Bruce Turvey

Day Two – To Bulembu and Beyond

“The day to not eat your smarties early.” Save some juice for the hill into Piggs Peal. Riiigth. Two years, Piggs Peak Hill 2, Teaky and the Pipe – 0. The start was civil enough until we got to the business end of the hillage. The hill eating wife was clearly on a mission to put some pressure on us. Soon enough it was just us and the hill people again. The pace was hurting me, as was the chain in my backpack. I started bleating, but the Pipe was hearing none of it, enjoying every second of my pain. It seems three out of the four of us was enjoying my pain. I swear every time I so much as glanced away, there was a mini attack. At this stage, the sport truly sucked. I had had enough, luckily we were only 30 minutes into Day 2, so there was plenty joy left in the tank.

Sick of my bleating, The Pipe reached into my camelback and retrieved the spare chain. I think the camera man at the top of the hill was a bit surprised when the Pipe threw the chain at him saying “hang on to this, boet.”

We crested together, and for once, the downhill was a treat. Shortly afterwards we hit the snack stop, with a tidy lead on the rest of the pack. We were off again, naturally following Paul’s directions. When he stopped to check his bearings, inevitably the Pipe would lean over him and say something like, “are you gonna work this one out or what, the okes are catching us” between bites of an energy bar. Not sure if that behaviour is not done, but it didn’t seem to phase us much. Soon enough with a poorly timed bit of navigational advice from myself, we got the four of us lost. And our lead was gone. Back in the pack with the Thompson Twins from Toyota and a bit of the Dunkeld Dudes thrown In for spice. This is where we made the fatal error. We backed Paul’s directions instead of chilling with the folk that had this directional thing waxed. A bit of a push for home was on the cards, though it turned out to be more of a push for something pretty far from home. Having navigated Wappo’s Step without incident, we followed Paul up some mountain of his own imagining. After sometime and some pretty useful additional hill training, we realized we were wrong and went back down the cliff face. Just in time to see half the field come past us. You know you are in trouble when the likes of Willy get a sniff in and come charging down the hill screaming “I got you fu*ers nooooow.” His charge was shortlived at the next hill, nevertheless, things were looking bleak for the Osamas. I think we rode past some dudes in baggy pants, then we knew we had hit rock bottom, and the Piggs Peak wreaked havoc on the two of us. At least we had the jump on the little people we thought. But it wasn’t long before they too came past us. I think it was somewhere around the time where the Pipe had gotten off his bike and rested his head on his seat. Looked like he was having a nap. Things were way bleak. We managed to top the hill and roll into Piggs Peak. If there was any juice left in the tank, there would have been much wailing and gnashing of teeth, but we were too poked. The look on the faces of Cyclelab Clones was enough to make me wanna toss my two energy bars and one tot of protein shake. Urrrghhh!

We lost a packet of time, not to mention the yellow jersey. Riding, even in the sublimest of surroundings, can suck properly.

Night Two – more sheer luxury, aircon, TV, swimming pool, couple of beers, some burgers – our troubles were over man.