The Addo Elephant Trail Runs
Results 2008 Article 2008 Photos 2008
Reports 100Miler

Laura Forster
While many of the adventure racing fraternity (including CSIR’s own Stephen Mallory) were hurling themselves recklessly around Swaziland in boots, bikes and boats, and road runners were deciding between the Wally, the Agape, the Jo’burg, or a combination of all three, a few of us were taking in the Eastern Cape at a more measured if no less determined pace.

The Addo 50 and 100 miler trail runs took place on 2/3 May in the Addo National Park. The two routes were largely coincident this year, with both groups starting at 6 am from Kirkwood, and sharing the trail for about 6k before the 50’s ducked off one way and the 100’s settled down for an extra loop and a loooooong day, with both races ending at the main rest camp at Addo.

The weather was kind, and the trail was stunning, with wild and beautiful scenery, and a mix of roller-coaster fence-roads, gentle sandy jeeptracks, sinous singletrack through the spooky forest, many rivers to cross, sweeping grassy hillsides, tricky rocky tracks, and a killer mindgame of a dirt road out-and-back from about 100k to 140k that had me quite literally, at 3 in the morning, sleeping and dreaming whilst walking along wrapped in my space blanket against the freezing wind that leapt up from the darkness, stripping heat and energy from my body when I was already at my lowest ebb. (That was a very freaky section. I saw some extremely weird things going down that road…). The 100 milers experienced a total climb and reciprocal descent of about 2400m by the end of their journey, which concluded for Bruce in a little more than 19 hours, for first place and a new record, and a mere 10 hours later (!) for yours truly, 3rd woman and 7th overall.
This was my first 100 miler and was an awesome experience, quite unlike any other run I’ve ever done. There was the elation of the shiny morning that saw me going much too fast, the steady work of the hot afternoon, the slog of the cooling evening and on into the cold night, the almost void of the small hours, and then the second red dawn of the race bringing a desperate and growing sense that the deadline was approaching more quickly than the finish line. Then, somehow, as the sun rose and the colour came back into the landscape, there was the certain knowledge that This Could Be Done. A few more switchbacks down from the mountain and, amazingly, along came my friend Karen (who had done the 50 miler the day before!) trotting 12k out to meet me and then sticking at my elbow all the way in, just to make sure that I did get it done.
And then it was done, at last, but much too soon, all at once. After all those hours of movement and effort, it seemed so odd just to stop.
I have a long list of people to thank who made the day what it was for me:
Nadia and Estienne Arndt and the Extreme Marathon team, for once again investing all their passion and organisational skill into giving nearly sixty 50 milers and thirteen 100 milers the race of their lives.
Bruce, for inspiration always, a big hug at 100k, and homecoming at the finish-line.
Stalwart Stuart Wainwright, who hooked up with me at around 90k as the trail ran out and the dirt road started, and who battled the route and an almost overwhelming onslaught from various bits of his body, (including, mysteriously, his elbow), and ladled more vaseline into his shorts than seemed quite proper, and yet still managed again and again to subdue the road with a ferocious stare and hoist himself into yet another trot, and kept me from defeating myself in the dark and wavering hour before dawn by brusquely instructing me to "pull up your big girl's panties and get on with the job!"
My son, brave Ed, who entered the 50 and trotted companionably with his Mum at the start, but lamented the next day that he "only got 40k's " before he wisely withdrew with a sore knee – totally overlooking the fact that he had not done so much as a five K fun run in all his 20 years, bless him;
My dear friend Karen, who got lost for ages the day before but still soldiered on to finish her 50 in the dark, then got up the next day and ran out to meet me and run all the way back in to the finish;
And finally amazing Yvette van der Westhuizen, last year’s dogged heroine, who didn’t run this year but was miraculously there for Stu and Stucky and me miles up the road, and again at the finish, goodness knows how.
What a day, what a race.
Can’t wait for next year.

Stuart Wainwright ~ Waiting in the darkness for the miracle of a Sunrise 

When I started running I set myself four goals. I wanted a marathon shirt, Two Oceans Ultra shirt, a Comrades shirt, and finally I wanted a jacket that said “12 hour circuit race” on the back. Surely if I had all four of those, then I could consider myself a long distance runner!  It wasn’t long before I started hearing about all kinds of other challenges, races, and along with them, their accolades. One hundred miles. One hundred and sixty kilometres and nine hundred meters. Madness. Sheer madness… but you get a tracksuit at the end. That sold the deal for me. So I started to ask a few people about running a 100 miler, and I bought the book UltraMarathon Man. In it, he described the Western States 100 miler. The difference between this, and most other 100 milers was that it was trail running, and with a different challenge, came a different accolade. Instead of a tracksuit, a finisher is given a buckle. This I learnt was common with all 100 milers. Tracksuits for road 100 milers, and buckles for trail. Silver buckles for those under 24 hours, and bronze for finishing within the cut off.
So I needed one of each. A silver buckle would be many years away though!
I don’t know what prompted me to enter Addo, as Washie was supposed to be my first 100 miler. It must have been the reassurance that I had from runners around me. “Run the Addo” they said. “See the world” they said. “You will be fiiine!” they said. If only they heard what I had to say about “them” at 5am that Saturday morning!
My quest for kilometres meant that I had to run a 10k in P.E. that morning, and only then could I head off to the pre-race briefing at the National Park main rest camp. I pleasantly surprised myself with a very relaxed 51minute run, and felt confident that after more than 25 marathons in the previous 90 days, I still had some speed in my legs if I needed to call upon it.
The race briefing was held for 57 50 miler runners as well as 13 lonely 100 milers. You could spot the novices from a mile away. While some laughed and joked about getting lost in the mountains, others went white at the thought of possibly running 161kms and not 160.9kms, never mind 170!
This was also where we would leave our drop bags. From here onwards, we would not be able to change what was in them. We could no longer pack and repack. What was in our drop bags, was set and final. It brought a cold shiver down my spine as it finally dawned on me that I was now an entrant in a 100 mile trail run.
I had decided to leave a drop bag at checkpoint 8 checkpoint 11 and checkpoint 13. This had taken me hours to decide on, never mind what would be in each bag! Eventually I settled for shoes, socks and bits of food in each back.
That night was bizarre for me. Whenever I was around people I became nervous of what was ahead. However, by the time I was lying in bed I knew that it would be tough, but that I could do it. Suck it up and run. My clothes were neatly lined up on the floor, and my backpack was fully stocked with water, food, a space blanket, knife, whistle, toilet paper, fresh socks and my rain and wind jacket. There was no more to do other than sleep, and so I planned to at least get that part right.
And that I did. After a full nights rest, I waddled down the stairs of the hotel to the lobby where tea and coffee was being served to the runners. Once again the novices were separated as they were rechecking their bags, and stretching everything from their hamstrings to their facial grimace. (The latter would be used extensively later!)
At 6.03am, a mottled looking bunch set off from outside the hotel. Family members, TV cameras, and a couple of photographers got the last shots of us before we turned the corner and headed into the darkness of the mountains just 3.4kms away.
Those 3.4kms were flat, and on road. Two things that we would not see again for a long time. Everyone laughed and joked, and most of the 100 milers watched as the 50 miler guys seemingly sprinted off at 6 min a km. As we hit the dirt roads the sun started to rise, and the mist settle. We wound our way up the pass until we cleared the mist, and overlooked a white blanket wrapped around the base of the mountains. Quickly the runners thinned out, and Susan (2nd place woman in Addo last year with a comfortable silver buckle, and winner of many road 100 milers), Stucky (2nd place man and also a comfortable silver buckle runner), Greg (3rd place in Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon) and myself were running alone. Then there were three as Stucky set off.
Last year rain had washed much of the course away, and the organisers were forced to change much of it. In response, I hear that some runners complained that the course was too easy, and that this year should be more difficult. Now, even at my tender age, I know that there are some people that you don’t tempt. You don’t say to a cop “I dare you to lock me up”, just as you don’t say to a race organiser “Come on! Give us a challenge!”. But the damage had been done, and the first 40 kms clearly set out the precedent for the run. As we ran the fence-line trail, we yo-yoed up and down climbs of 200m in elevation over and over.
The sun was now in full force (even if it was only 28 degrees it was still hot!) and we passed 40kms in around 5h30. One quarter of the way, and feeling very strong. Great! Susan and I set off, as Greg wanted to do some walking. We maintained a steady pace as we climbed solidly for another 90 minutes. Everything was looking good. My choice to run in normal road shoes instead of trail shoes was paying off, as my feet didn’t show any signs of wear and tear, and I was sticking to my golden rule for ultra marathons of “Get to half way feeling like you haven’t started”. Sure I was only 50 odd kilometres in, but I felt great.
We headed down a steep descent of about 260m in 3kms, and turned into the forest. This was going to be the section that I was dreading. The forest meant streams, and streams meant wet feet. Wet feet is the one thing that I knew could put my entire run in jeopardy as blisters develop far quicker, and into much bigger and nastier monsters on a trail run. Before long Stucky was back with Susan and I, and we tackled the water together. After a bit of rock climbing here, some bundu bashing there, bit of blood, and on the verge of tears at the extraordinarily slow pace that we were pulling ourselves through the thorn bushes, we finally popped out on the other side. My feet were drenched, and I knew I had to get to my first drop bag for new shoes before blisters formed. Problem was that the drop bag was 600m above me. That’s almost the climb of Comrades. Lucky for us though, the distance was only a couple of kilometres. Please pay attention to the sarcastic tone.
As I powerwalked myself up a climb that one simply doesn’t encounter on a road run, I left Susan and Stucky behind. The sweat dripped off of my nose, and my mp3 player pumped at full volume to AC/DC. Checkpoint 8 was a welcome sight. Not only did it mean that I had crested, but also that I could now change my shoes, and get something to eat.
The altitude brought new challenges though. With it came the wind along the top of the mountains, and the cold. The sun was setting, and I knew that I had to make the best of the light while I still had it. The track was not suited for night running, and I wanted to cover as much of it as possible. I put on the new socks and shoes, and ate what I could before setting off.
The view along the ridge was mindblowing. I could see for kilometres, and yet I couldn’t see any signs of man. Other than the half overgrown track in front of me, there was very little sign that I was not alone. As night fell, my world became smaller. Suddenly the views were gone, and all that I knew of was the small white circle on the track in front of me. It put my previous thought of loneliness to shame. Every now and again I would catch a glimpse of the distance lights of P.E., or maybe spot the headlamp of another runner. I would guess as to who it could be, and how far away they were. The distance as the crow flies gives no indication, as the trail turned in a new direction every 50 meters. For all I knew, it could take me an hour to reach the point of that headlamp.
The day before I noticed a board at the National Parks reception. It listed the various animals sighted that day. On the list were Lions, and Hyenas. I had thought nothing of it. However, after running alone in the dark for 6 hours, with little sign of people, and no visibility under the new moon other than your little headlamp, your mind wanders. As I headed through a thicket and what might have been a hiking trail, the bushes seemed to become denser and denser. They closed in over my head and I found myself running in a small tunnel of bushes. I thought about the photos that I had seen of a man after being attacked by a leopard, and I remembered the warnings of potential snake bites and night adders. I realised that I had turned off my mp3 player as it would prevent me from hearing the charge of a lion, or snarl of an angry territorial leopard. I behaved like a Sandton schoolgirl!
Schoolgirl or not, I was pleased when I came out on the other side and spotted lights at the top of the hill ahead of me. Sure it meant I would have to do a lot of climbing to get there, but it also meant I was back to some form of civilisation. Checkpoint 11 was also one of my drop bag points, and my three sticks of droewors went down as a treat! New shoes set me off into the night.
It was roughly midnight, and my next big challenge lay ahead. The hours of 1 to 4am are renowned as horrid. These “Hell hours” or “Witching hours” are normally the hours that require the greatest levels of concentration. The 16 hours of running before you has tired you out more than a normal day, and now you refuse your body sleep, when you would normally be out for the count. As you resist sleep, strange things happen. Your mood swings, and your mind plays tricks on you with the shadows of your headlamp. It didn’t play any tricks on me though, as I know that I saw that log walk across the road like a crocodile. It was there damnit!
Another problem with running at night under a new moon is the hills. When you realise that you are heading up, there is no way of knowing how far you are going. You could be climbing for 100m, or you could be climbing for 10kms, but there is no way of knowing because you can’t see that far. Everytime you get to a ramp of any kind the thought process starts again. The darkness isn’t all that bad though. As I stopped for a roadside widdle, I turned my headlamp off, and realised what I had been missing. The sky was alight with stars like I had never seen before. Once again I realised how incredibly beautiful my surroundings were.
Susan passed me in the early hours of the morning, showing her huge 100 miler experience and little wear and tear, and I caught up to Laura just before sunrise. She had been walking sideways across the track as she fell in and out of sleep on her feet. We were both struggling in our own ways. My feet had taken a hammering from the stones and rocks, and she needed company. We made good progress for a couple of hours together.
That morning I had a very special moment. I watched the second sunrise of my run. It was now more than 24 hours of running, and the clouds turned pink above me. It became an emotional moment, as I realised that not many would be able to say they had run through the mountains to witness TWO sunrises. The mountainsides that I had been running through completely oblivious to, just hours before were now showing themselves in all of their glory. Massive drops off of the track, and layered green or rocky mountains appeared out of the darkness. I was sad to have missed these views during the night suffering.
Once again, as the sun came out the task at hand became apparent. Slog on to the finish. Laura left under my instruction with about 10kms to go. In all honesty, I was tired, and sore, and on the verge of cracking. I don’t know what would have cracked… but I was feeling fragile. My feet were bruised, and I just wanted to finish. I had fought the feeling since 5am, but all I could think about was, not having to move. I wasn’t thinking about anything as drastic as bailing, but being clipped by a passing farmers bakkie was an appealing option as I would have an excuse to stop.
I turned my mp3 player back on once Laura had left, and within minutes my motivation lifted. I started running again, and quickly picked up the pace to an excruciatingly fast pace. Once again the exhaustion had made me emotional, but I couldn’t have cared less, as I was now moving faster than I had for at least 10 hours preceeding it. I spotted Laura at the next checkpoint, which was also the last checkpoint, and promptly sat down to eat my last 3 jelly babies.
The final 8.3kms to the finish was a slow walk. I knew I was in, but my legs and mind had done enough for me to get my buckle, and it was not just a technicality that I had to waddle the final bits. As I approached the finishing corner I burst into a sprint on an uphill, simply for dignity’s sake, and gladly broke the tape.
After a shower I collapsed down at the restaurant, and ordered a sandwich and chips. Before my drink had arrived my chin was on my chest, and I was fast asleep.

Leo Rust

I was stunned, completely stunned. I could not believe it. Was this a dream, or had I actually just been run over by an ostrich? This bird had run into me head-on and floored me. I don’t remember falling, or how long I was down or how I got back to my feet. I just remember having to dust myself off and staggering on. I was 40 km into the longest even of my life and certainly did not expect this!  We started at 6h00 in the morning outside the Kirkwood Hotel. A short section of tarred road lead us into the hills and phenomenal surroundings. There were some pretty serious hills from early on. Estienne had warned us that the early section followed an old fence line (in other words take a straight line between two points come hell or high water). I soon found that I was running by myself. Walk up the steep, steep hills and down the other side just to do more of the same. There was mist in the valleys and the sun was not making itself known yet. Magic to be out in the hills.
All went very well until CP4 at 34 km. We had a short flattish section of out and back. This was the first time I got a chance to see the other runners. I had never met Bruce Arnett before but he was looking strong in first and AO Okreglicki in second. Jo Mackenzie and Mimi Anderson were chatting away a couple of minutes behind me. In fact they would catch me at all CP’s and I really enjoyed having them around. They were having fun and that really reminded me why I was there.
Then suddenly the ostrich got the better of me. It happened so quickly that I had absolutely no time to react. (Apparently the thing to do is crouch down and make yourself as small as possible. Ostrich’s can cause serious injury with their claws. I was told that I was lucky.)
Not having done a 100m before I was warned about the lows. It took some serious self motivational talk to get me out of this slump. Luckily we had another hill so I could walk and self talk at the same time.
Forests and rivers followed that were real pretty. Sneaky detours spared wet toes. The going underfoot was serious 4X4 stuff with quite rough rocky terrain. Just what we had signed up for!
Out of the foothills it was. Up, up and more onto this amazing ridge. Changing into a fresh pair of Continental Divides was very welcome. A quick check on all toetsies did not reveal any immediate issues. We followed this blunt ridge for 15 kays or so. The views were magnificent. Then down steep dirt roads. Too steep to run so a shuffle was the best in saving the quads. I was glad to get down to the farm at 88 km. A couple of slices of orange was a refreshing change from the Hammer gels, bars and Perpetuem I had used up to then (CP 10, 88 km). The light started fading quickly as I entered the forest on the river trail section. Mimi and Jo caught up to me and it was a real motivation hearing their chatter in the darkness. Steep switchbacks up and into the darkness to Zuurberg Inn (CP11, 96 km). We had finished the technical section (thank goodness) and the rest of the run was on dirt roads (some only passable by 4X4) The night was quiet and not too windy as we headed up the pass. The first bit of nausea hit me somewhere around here. Just too much effort to get a gel down. Squeeze, swallow quick, rinse mouth, spit, psyche up a couple of minutes for the next mouthful...
CP 13 arrived not a moment too late. I had left my Nano here as a treat for the night section. Plug it in and turn up the volume. Oh and espresso gels kicked in and gave me a much needed boost into the night. I tried to run for a whole song and then walk one. That did not last for very long. Made myself another deal. Run for a minute, walk for a minute, run... that just got me more tired and I slowed down. Darn! I would just have to walk at an average of 6+km/h including stops if I was to make my goal of finishing sub 24h! Metalica was next and the volume went up as high as it could go. We headed up onto the plateau. There was a little wind and the temp was cool, conditions were perfect! Off in the distance I could see the lights of towns below us.

Finally I spotted two lights, they were close. That must be the turnaround?! I hoped and wished. I will be there in minutes!! On and on along this dirt road, on and on into the night, tunes and scattered thoughts my only companions. Minutes seemed longer than they should. Finally the lights rose onto a hill (oh no) then I saw AO’s headlamp bob toward me. My greeting was unanswered. A final hill and then I heard the voices cheer me on! Brilliant to see friendly frozen faces out here in middle earth. A quick drink of water and turn around. Homeward bound! On the plateau I met Jo and we swopped encouragements. So where had Mimi gone? I had no idea, did not think to ask at the time.

The tricky stuff was all over and it was just a matter of beating the clock now. Could I maintain my walking pace of 6km/h or so? Running was proving to be too much effort for my brain and body. Just before the first of the long downhills. Jo caught and passed me easily. I thought of trying to put up a fight but realised that she was way stronger. Minutes later I gladly accepted a cup of warm tea from her at the Zuurberg Pass Road (CP12). Down the steep pass to Zuurberg Inn and a refreshing snack of orange. I had 3 ½ hours left to do the last 20km’s. (Not exactly a PB I thought) This was going to be close.   On and on into the colder depths and finally some more lights. The mind playing tricks again telling me that Wellshaven (CP 15) was just around the corner. No just keep going. I was keeping a close watch on my pace and time to make sure that I was on target. Finally cheers out of the darkness and car headlights flashing at me. CP15 and 8km to go! (5 km to cross the tar road and then 3 km to the finish at the rest camp in Addo) 1 ½ h to go! Focus and keep going. Whatever you do don’t slow down! The medic drives past me. “You OK?, Just tired?” I nod.
The tar road. Look left, look right, look left again. Not so much. There is not a car in sight.
A minute later panic!
Somehow I have missed the course and am not sure which way to go. Time is running out with 40 min and 3km to go to finish in sub 24h. Slow down, think! Retrace my steps to the last point I was on course. Then I remember the instructions of Estienne at the briefing to just run along the park fence. The marking tape appears again. Keep up the pace up this unending hill! Suddenly I turn a corner and am in the camp. I hear the cheers and clapping hands before I see them. I hug Jo, Bruce and Nadia and almost forget to cross the official finish line.
I am done! 23h39 and 3rd place in the men’s.
Smiles and tea.
A short while later I crawl under covers and try to warm up.
All in all this is a brilliant event, one of the best I have done. Well organised with well marked paths everywhere. A nice mix of terrain underfoot. All of the folks involved were super friendly and very encouraging. I can only recommend it to anyone wanting to take part. Next year there will be a 100mile, 50 mile and 40 km events all on the 2nd of May.
Thanks to all of you who sent well wishes and encouragement!
Thanks to Montrail, CAPESTORM, Julbo and Buff for support.
Reports 50Miler

Andy Pons ~ All the A’s for Addo

Absolutely Awesome Arduous Addo Adventure
It’s a long story! But then any 80 km run is just that – long way off road. In April I woke up to the fact that I would be in the Eastern Cape for the traditional long run preparation for the Big C.  My running guide referred to the Addo 50. I assumed 50 km’s but my wife, Sue, was adamant it 50 miles so I phoned Nadia, our wonderful race organiser. Once again I was proven wrong. Anyway, I only needed to do a 60 km training run and Nadia agreed this would be easy to arrange. Excellent! First hurdle overcome.
So I phoned my boet, Steve and asked him to join me for this 50. He showed a keen interest. I suggested he look at the website and let me know. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was 80 km’s but expected a quick response. I got it: “Gee boet, it’s not a 50 – have you seen that profile!” Anyway he had said he was in so that was that. He also squashed any thought of doing a 60km training run suggesting: “what you start you must finish!”
So there we were, two “roadies” amongst the ardent trail runners. A few considered us a different species – and now I know why. In our white running shoes and new Camelpacks I guess we stood out. We were required to carry the basic essentials, an anorak Camelback, space blanket, whistle and head lamp. I thought about flares but that was just a touch of paranoia. Although nervous, we didn’t think through all the requirements for this arduous adventure. We arrived half way through the briefing, just in time to hear the nervous giggles of a few other novices and the sobering questions from the crazy 100 milers. Just in time to hear - for those road runners - add around an additional 30% running time to your expected time. We knew it would be tough, but this was serious stuff!
We had not considered putting together drop bags with goodies one may require on route, left the car without a good change of clothes for after the race as the Kombi to our hotel was in a bit of a rush. I would certainly give this more thought in future trail runs.
The Kirkwood Hotel, any small town’s Grand, Royal or Victoria was a typical 1 star in the main street of town, strategically placed next to the taxi rank! A great off sales next door with its own noisy bars filled with locals. No reception on arrival, as we were just told to wait – the owner was coming. Ja, but so was Christmas! Eventually they arrived. Well let’s just say, comfortable, clean rooms, good food but seriously noisy staff, fellow runners and patrons! Anyway at least we could sleep in as the start was outside our hotel. This was a treat!
The small field (60 for the 50 miler and 10 for the 100 miler) assembled and at 06h00 we set off aiming to club this training run. We decided to set ourselves what we considered a reasonable goal – to finish in 12 hours. Practically this would also minimise running into the evening, something that would have been foreign. A few km’s out of town and we hit the hills. It was misty and cool, with the sun rising behind us.   
The first 12 km’s were on reasonable dirt road. We wound up the hills heading for the more substantial mountains ahead. As is customary, the chatting and banter was good. We traded a few jokes, ripped each other off and got to know a few good folk.
The watering points were evenly spaced along the route between 1 and 1,5 hours between each. We soon realised the roadie approach to kilometre markers would not work on trail runs. The 6,8 km section took a full 1,5 km’s emptying my Camelback. The watering points were awesome. Every watering point catered amazingly including water, coke, Gu, bananas, potato’s, oranges, biscuits, sandwiches, crisps, pretzels, sweets, bar ones. What were even better were the welcoming faces and encouraging comments. So, in retrospect there was no need for drop bags.
Down into the valleys, where the shadows were long, the trees, ferns and flowers were something to behold. The yellowwoods were enormous and the forests supreme. Whilst well marked we rock hopped along the ravines, keeping our feet dry. It was at these points that running together was an advantage. Four eyes, better than two and we were able to spot the paths that others followed more efficiently.
After a wonderfully hospitable, unbelievably organised water point at what must have been the lowest point, the climb began. Yes, I know I have a big nose, but it how it did not meet the gravel on some occasions beats me. After the crazy steep section, where at times slipping on the gravel left one sliding down a bit, came the long slow poison, up and then even further up!!  It seemed relentless. By now, at around 23 km’s we were on our own. Solitude. The only sound was our feet on the trail and the odd comment. From time to time one could see a runner ahead. At least we were still on the right track. We took time out to look back down into the valleys below – it was awesome to observe the splendour of God’s wonderful creation. We reached the top of the world, could see for miles on a beautifully clear day. Surrounded by mountains on all sides and views of the valleys beneath, we enjoyed easier running on the plateau. The day remained cool with an ever present breeze.
The lunch time watering point was most welcome and I scoffed to my hearts content. It was now Steve’s turn to push the pace. “Come on, let’s go!” At this stage the sarmies were just great. “Hey, what’s the rush, try a sarmie!” I chirped. 30 to 40 km’s passed comfortably before we negotiated a serious downhill back into the valley.
It must have been around 50km’s that we came across the next watering point. It seemed to be on the only farm in the area, manned by the entire family. Somehow, a few of us arrived at this point together and enjoyed a catch up after receiving the welcome encouragement from this great table. The legs were tired after the steep downs and it was warmer in the sun and valley – out of the wind. We had been on the road for around 7,5 hours. For goodness sake, one is allowed to feel tired!
A beautiful stretch along the river bed followed. Steve had pushed on. He was strong, whilst I was hanging on! Fortunately the river was not running but it was dark down there and finding some of the route markers proved challenging. As I ran ….. and walked, I wondered about getting through this stage at night. That would be extremely tough.
As runners generally know, after every good section there is trouble to follow. The profile also indicates it, but I did not expect a zig zag mountain path with uneven steps. It was certainly challenging for my tired legs. I took my final swig of water just before reaching the top, hoping water was not far away. Aha, a gate and an Addo Guard. He pointed to a borehole tap. Then I remembered, around 60 km’s Zuurburg Mountain Inn and lifted my head. There it was like an oasis in the wilderness. I put in the runners spurt for the small gathering. What a pleasure. 60 km’s down. Only a little 20 to go!
As I arrived Steve was giving me up for dead, handing over my headlamp that he kindly kept in his pouch. He had made good mates with the entire crowd by the time I arrived and then urged me to get a move on. Not a good thing. 9 hours on the road and the sense of humour was in short supply! I duly bit his head off and he knew where he stood – I think! Had a few Randburg Harriers been present I may have been invited to join the esteemed ranks of the grumpy club! Steve was determined to wait for me. Heading off we noted our general direction, down the mountain, along a good gravel road, with a bump in the profile toward the finish line. No more mountain paths or rock hopping.
Our goal of 12 hours in tact. We could finish at dusk if we just kept moving. These thoughts lifted both our spirits and our legs. Hey, we can do this thing!
Although easy terrain, we all know what the pains of the last few km’s. We enjoyed the company of a serious trail runner over this stretch who shared his experience. It was good to get someone else to do the talking. In this last stretch we spotted a few elephants in the distance. It’s always awesome to be in their presence! As we crested the final hill before the finish, running along the fence line were two huge elephants just over the fence, as if to reward us for our day out. It was great!
Then, finish line and roar from the early finishers and supporters. It added the final touch. Time to rest our wary legs – what a pleasure just to sit down! Personally, trail running is beginning to bite. It certainly beats dodging the city traffic.
It was an awesome experience. I’m not sure that it’s the best Comrades long run because the legs took time to recover, but no worries. Both Steve and I managed our finish at Comrades as well. The Addo Elephant is a unique event that you simply must do if you love the outdoors, enjoy good company (although a bit spread out at times), amazing organisers and helpers it’s got my thumbs up. Thanks Nadia, Estienne and the entire team of helpers. Not to forget the Medical staff who I kept on their toes for a while. Thanks you were great!  I will do this again!

Awesome Addo ~ Yvonne Robson

The alarms were set for 04h10 – not my favourite time, as most of you know. Backpacks were at the ready.  We had handed a couple of drop bags in at registration, to be taken to checks 8 and 11 – who knows what time of day we would get there.
The hyaenas were in full cry in the night… would we meet any on the way, I wondered?  Chris was more worried about the lions, but I was sure I would be able to tame them quickly J
We set off for the start in Kirkwood just before 5am and got there in time for that extra cup of coffee which I always need to set me up for the day – and hoping it would see me through the full 50 miles.  Yes, miles… 80km to you South Africans.  06h03 and off we went.
The 100 milers did an extra loop early on, so our first check was CP5.  On the way it was fairly quiet as there weren’t very many runners, but we were a little troubled by one… the route was quite clearly marked with little signposts at any junction to point the way.  So why, then, did we hear “Hello” … “Hello” … we shouted back to locate the problem – maybe a fellow runner was in trouble.  He called back “OK, just checking I am on the right path”.  A little later a call came again “Do I turn right here?” was shouted back down the path to us.  Chris hurried to see if the sign had fallen over… no, it clearly pointed to the right.  Being more patient than me she just said yes (at least I think that’s what she said).  But can you believe it?  Our Chris threatened to punch him if he carried on like that for the remainder of the 80km!
At CP5 we had to do an extra 1.2km loop – 600m up the path then turn around and retrace our steps – presumably so that our total distance would be exactly 80km.  Thank goodness they put that extra loop in early on in the run; it might have caused a sense of humour failure later.

On we went to check 6, 20.3km from the start.  The terrain was still flattish but the scenery was good, and the feeling of being ‘in the middle of nowhere’ was there.  However, I was already suffering… I tried to focus on the surroundings to remind me why I was there, and I asked myself, as I do so often, why I hadn’t trained more.
Checks 6 and 7 involved a number of river crossings, but they had had very little rainfall so we managed to continue keeping our feet fairly dry.
Check 7 to 8 was the big test: up and up and up we went, I’ll swear the gradient was almost vertical.   Luckily I was feeling no worse than at 20km, and this stretch wasn’t so bad for me – a good excuse to walk.  I didn’t see anyone trying to run up this mountain.
Eventually we reached check 8, 34km and 6 hours into the distance.
Here, I took clean dry socks from my drop bag.  But trying to put them on was something else.  I am not usually one to cramp, but every time I bent down to try and undo my shoes I started to cramp at the tops of my thighs.  This was a whole new experience for me, but unfortunately I could see no totty to assist me.  I definitely wasn’t going to ask the cameraman who was currently at the CP filming us in our sorry states.  Eventually, little by little, I managed the change of socks and – eventually – I got my shoes done up again.

From CP8 we travelled for some distance on a fairly flat ridge, with spectacular views on either side – endless rolling hills with varying vegetation and no sign of human habitation.  Awesome in the sunlight, and with a cool breeze just sufficient to keep us from overheating – perfect weather conditions for the run.
On and on we went, through checks 9 and 10, beautiful scenery all the way.  Ups and downs but nothing too harsh until after we reached check 10, when we had to climb up to the Zuurberg Mountain Inn – up and up again – this was CP11 at 61km.  We arrived here as the sun was going down, just before 5pm.  Only ¾ of the distance travelled and 11 hours gone, and still almost half a marathon still to do – and everything below the waist was hurting now and had been for some time!
Karin and Miriam were at the check to greet us and urge us on, so we had a bit of waitress service.  However, for me to sit at a pub and decline beer… well, that’s just not right.  So, when we left the Inn at about 5.15 Chris reckoned if she kept saying the word “Hansa” (which was waiting for us in the fridge at the rest camp finish) we would make it OK.  We had also sampled a pint of Forester’s Ale in the Bar at the rest camp the day before, so every time we slowed down she said “Hansa” and I countered with “Forester’s”.
Well, we went the 11km from check 11 to 15 (checks 12, 13 and 14 we missed as they were in another loop for those deranged people that were running the 100 miler) in record time.  Only 1 ¼ hours!  (OK, it was all downhill, but still…)
The last 8.3km to the finish took another hour – and why is that last km always so far?  It was pitch black now, no lights to be seen except for our torches.  Surely we must be there?
At long last the end came upon us in a flash and we jogged the last few meters to the line like we had only done a 10k race - it was 19h42 (so we had spent 13 hours and 38 minutes on the trails) and Chris’ GPS read 79.9km – and yes, you’re right, we saw the beers in K & M’s hands to give us that last spurt!  Cheers!
Many thanks to the organisers and all those people that spent so many hours out there on the refreshment tables, you were all great.