As weekend mountain bike warriors we encounter animals, especially where we ride in the remote jeep- and single tracks of the Western Cape Mountains... in summer fat 'puffies' (deadly snakes, puff adders) lazily lie on the rocky paths backing in the sun... but we know not to disturb these lazy lethal sausages!
Anyway, one of my favorite places to ride my carbon fat-tire steed is Groenlandberg... a green looking mountain between Grabouw and Botrivier in the Boland. It is long and hard with sand and technical rocky tracks... hellish hot in summer, freezing cold and wet in winter... unpredictable at the top... clouds, rain, gusty wind, amazing views... you never know what Groenlandberg will dish up when you start your ride... the anticipation alone gets my heart rate going!
My girlfriend just bought herself a new mountain bike... she is a natural athlete, fit and tuff... but not always perfect with the gear changes and technical aspects of the bike... but then it is good for the male ego to be on hand to 'assist' should the need arise... but as a rider, she kicks butt and will most probably kick my ass after reading this!
I so wanted her to see Groenlandberg… so for weeks I told her colorful tales about the place and the promise of a romantic night away after the ride clinched the deal... she'll ride Groenlandberg with me be it a shorter ride (+-60km)... yes!
The date set… the romantic love nest booked... off we head. We park the car at Houwhoek Farm stall and set off along the railway’s service road towards Botrivier; our only stop on the entire ride! Botrivier is a small town between Grabouw and Hermanus... we cycle through its scatter camp and experience the sights, sounds and smells of less privileged... we hit the Van der Stel Pass road having now gone around the eastern side of Groenlandberg… after about 30 km’s of rolling hills the grueling 18km climb to the summit starts! My ego turning ever so slightly macho… setting a pace to 'show' my lady how this is done!
The climb is technical... it is sandy... the sun fierce… it is hot and dry... the fynbos vegetation scratching the shaven legs and grabbing at the handle bars... fun fun fun... this is the life! The sexy lady has lost her smile but continues without a complaint... I ride, I wait, I turn around, I encourage, I bull-shit... she follows not saying a word... I see the struggle, the determination, the guts... I smile, I'm proud of her... but then again I must not soften, I must show her where I reign supreme. The technical rocky sections take the last bit of energy and sense of humor out of her... the last 3km of the climb she rides 'on the rivets', exhausted beyond her limits, but she summits without complaining once… she is such a tuff cookie!
The downhill is terrible and extremely technical, I love it, she hates it... the exposed rocks ('baby heads') fight the bikes... sapping energy, progress is slow.
Eventually we reach the wide forestry roads, great relief to make it in one piece after the torture on Groenlandberg... now it is a 'high way' to the car... the weekend ahead of us... good food, wine and romance (if she ever forgives me) awaits!
I ride away from her up one of the small hills and decide to wait on the other side near a farm house where we could rest and I could start the process of winning her over for the weekend... only a few km's to the car now.... I stop, I look up... oh shit!
Two huge dogs come running out of a barn nearby and charge straight for me… l recognize a Rhodesian Ridge-back and a Staffordshire Terrier.... two killers with huge fangs... I'm a sitting duck, stranded on my bicycle, clipped in and no time to run and hide!
I don't panic and shout in a commanding voice 'STOP'... 'LIE DOWN'... 'DONT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!'... The Ridge-back hesitates and stop about 10 meters from me barking viciously, but a little cowardly... the staffie comes running casually towards me, not barking and I swear waging its tail! I sigh with relief and as I bent forwards to pat the tail wagging hound, it turns it head and sinks its huge alligator-like jaws into my right calve just below my knee... my foot is still clipped into the pedal thus at the perfect angle and height for the perfect bite... I'm dumb-struck... I feel his teeth penetrate the bone of my leg... he's going to bite my leg off... the crunching strength of its jaw unbelievable...
I am so shocked; I don't even have time to panic... all as if it happens in slow motion... I know one thing about staffies; they don't let go... they usually go into a stupid daze, jaws locked and shake and rip their prey apart! I knew this dog was going to tear the muscles right off my leg!
The dog's bottom canine teeth did not get proper grip as he bit into my shin bone and when he tries to rip, his grip on my leg loosen and he lets go to bite again; luck was on my side for a split second and instinctively I unclip my foot and get it away just as he goes for it again!
I manage to get the bicycle between the crazy dog and myself... he goes berserk and attacks viciously having tasted blood… now it is only a matter of time before he eats me alive! I shout at him and act brave and commanding but the stupid dog has only one thing on his mind... ‘Kill this space-like creature with the shiny thing on his head and lycra cladded body’... he tasted blood and got that stupid daze look of a killer!
My girl friend and the farmer arrive on the scene at the same time... he shouts at the dog and comes running to save me (or his dog...); thank God the dog listens and backs off... all I can think of to say to the farmer is: "Staffies are so stupid!". The farmer starts shouting at me… Something about private property and we look like intruders with our fancy cycling gear... etc etc etc... I realize he is more in shock than I am!
I try and calm him by telling him I'm not angry, just hurting badly and that I'll need to get to a doctor! He eventually calms down as he realizes he is the only one making a scene... by now the canine teeth wounds look like bullet wounds... huge swollen holes in my leg with think amber colored blood flowing jelly like from the wounds! My girlfriend is shocked... both by the dog incident and the Groenlandberg expedition... I thank God she was behind me and that the dog did not take her... it could have been so much worse!
Anyway, the farmer starts apologizing and tells me how he has to have a vicious dog on the farm for protection etc... I tell him not to worry and that my priority is to get medical attention as I need a tetanus injection and have the wounds cleaned out... where is the nearest doctor?
We discuss the possibilities and realize the fastest would be to get to the next town, Caledon which is about 60km away... luckily on the N2 high-way... I just need to get to my car! I decide to cycle there as we're about 2 km's away... my wounded (right side) leg is 'dead' but I manage and we make it to the car. The farm stall where my car is park is crowded and the people stare at us... some offer help and want to take me to a hospital... I politely tell them I'm ok and that it looks worse than it is... meantime my leg is on fire and like a dead tree trunk attached to my body.
We load the bikes and set off to Calendon... I phone the lodge where we were spending the night to let them know we'll be late...
We arrive a Caledon Provincial Hospital... this is where the scary part of the story... never mind almost being eaten by a TRex like dog, the ER in this place will have you die of disease in less time! The filth, the stink and the service is unimaginable... please bear in mind that I work for the Medi-Clinic private hospital group where we have very high standards and patient care is our number one priority! I'm disgusted to be put on a filthy bed, next to a dustbin full of bloody bandages… next to me are coughing prisoners, TB obviously, also a drunk slumped over a chair cut full of knive wounds... it's like being in dark Africa!
The doctor on duty listens to my story and has the nurse give me a tetanus injection and clean the bite wounds... but then they find out I have medical aid and immediately refuse to treat me any further! I have to get to a private doctor they insist... I'm dumb-struck and think he's joking with me... not! “They do not take the food off the private sector and the private sector do not eat off their table” the Dr tells me... what, is this for real... I try and reason with them that I will pay cash... but no, they will have no more to do with me!
Seeing that this is a futile debate, I excuse myself and said I'll drive myself to the nearest private doctor... instead I drove to the nearest Spar, bought some house hold disinfectant (Dettol), some band-aid and cotton wool and set off to our lodge in the woods... damn if I’m seeing private doctor and paying my hind leg off (excuse the pun) for a job already done... hoping no infection will set in, but enough is enough, we have a weekend ahead of us!
We find ourselves in a beautiful wooden cabin in the woods, all private... just ours... a real love-nest! The best place to spend a romantic weekend... or if you go mountain biking and treat your girlfriend like a warrior; a beautiful place to lick your wounds and limp around like a war casualty...
She looked after me like a hero despite my macho display and although I could not swing from the rafters, we had a great time... she walked around with a silly grin on her face with the occasional shake of the head... I also smiled, but it was more a smile of an idiot who got what he deserved!
The younger mountain bikers call me TRex as I am the ‘old man’ in the group... and my lady and I often joke about having to fight the dinosaur’s extinction... nudge-nudge say no more... but after encountering the Trex like dog I'm so glad for the Ice Age that took them away!
Staffie!
Ridge-back!
