Stage 2: We were flying (to close to the sun)

We started Stage 2 in good spirits. Jeroen had slept properly and we both felt ok, realizing we would fine out if the legs would agree with that position later. We were in start batch H, and as we arrived quite early, we were the right at the front at the start. We hadn't planned for it, but it turned out, we'll aim for it tomorrow again! You can ride your own race, set your own pace, no traffic, no pressure. And honestly? We took full advantage of it.

The stage front-loaded most of the climbing into the first 30 kilometers, culminating in a long steady grind up Ouberg Pass on a wide white gravel road. In the first 10km or so, we had already caught of with the last riders in batch G, that left 5 minutes in front of us. And we both felt strong, we arrived in great spirits at the climb of Ouberg Pass. It's the kind of climb where you can really settle in and find a rhythm. And we did. We were flying (relative to our category is that). Team after team, we picked them off - not by going into the red, not by racing, just by riding well within ourselves at a pace that felt genuinely comfortable. That's the dream scenario for a stage race: passing people while having a conversation. We were in the middle of the pack, sure, but it felt like racing. It was brilliant fun.

Then, at kilometer 61, we hit our Icarus moment.

A fun and narrow, but perfectly manageable downhill. I was sitting about 10 meters behind Jeroen, following his line closely. I was probably off his line by about 5 cm and that was too much. My rear rim found a rock - or more accurately, the rock found my rim - and the rock won. Rim was completely destroyed. Not a puncture, not a slow leak. Just: done. No more riding.

We were in the middle of a private game reserve. African bush, river beds, stunning scenery - the kind of place where you'd happily pay to get access to. Not the kind of place where you want to be standing next to a bike that can no longer function as a bike. The nearest mechanical water point was 16 kilometers away. So what do you do? You walk.

So we walked. At first, we did what seemed logical: took out the wheel, and Jeroen carried the frame while I walked him holding the wheel, tire, and insert. It took a few kilometers before the obvious dawned on us — why were we carrying the wheel separately? The rim was already destroyed. What were we protecting it from? So we put it back in, which at least made wed didn't have to carry the bike, nor the rim, but could ''just walk'' with it. And then, when the terrain finally allowed it, we graduated to phase three of our improvised transport system: Jeroen carrying my bike, and me sitting on his top tube - steering, braking, and let gravity do its work It was not fast, nor elegant. But ultimately, it got us to the water point, and honestly, it's probably the highlight of the stage.

I want to make a big shout out to many of the other riders, but particularly the South African riders, for all their nice and heartwarming shouts of support. Much appreciated, it really made the walk easier!

At the water point, they had a rim. Progress. Except the cassette on the replacement rim didn't match mine, so they had to go fetch another one. We sat there for the better part of an hour. In the grand scheme of an already derailed stage, it barely mattered.

Eventually, the bike was fixed, we were still well the cutoff time, and we rolled out. Three kilometers later, the cassette came loose. So we had to cycle back to the water point once more. This time they did fix it properly.

And then, finally, we were actually riding again - with 25 kilometers to go, a replacement cassette that my derailleur had never met before, and shifting that could genuinely be described as creative. I had three functional gears: gear 3, gear 6 or 7, and gear 9. The rest were more of a suggestion. Those last 25 kilometers were not exactly pleasant, in fact I was more irritated then instead of while walking that 16k, but we got through them.

Jeroen was strong all day. His stomach issues from the previous days seem to have cleared, which is genuinely great news heading into what's coming next. I was fine too — legs good, spirits still intact, just frustrated that we couldn't finish our ''race'''today. But that first 61 kilometers were the best riding we've had during Cape Epic. And that part still counts.

After getting back, we quickly dropped our bikes at the service station, went for a shower and moved into chill mode. For the first time here, we both were really keen on getting food in, we looked forward to it. Another positive sign! Tomorrow is another big day. The bikes are being serviced. The legs are (hopefully) recovering. Hopefully the rocks will go back to finding their own business again.

Tomorrow Stage 3 - 140km to Greyton, where we move to the next race village. We're looking forward to it.

The Chase continues!