Stage 3: the long way to Greyton

If you read yesterday's post, you know how Stage 2 ended. A destroyed rim at kilometre 61, a 16-kilometre walk to the water point, an hour waiting for a replacement that didn't quite work, creative shifting on three functional gears, and a finish in 186th place out of 188 in our age category. Not exactly what we had in mind when we lined up at the front of batch H that morning.

But the those first 61 kilometres of Stage 2 were the best riding we'd had all week. We were picking off teams while having a a lot of fun. That part still counted. And when back in the race village yesterday, that's what stuck with us. Not the walk, not the frustration, but the feeling that we can actually ride. So the goal for today was simple: go out and prove that yesterday's first half wasn't a fluke.

Stage 3 was the longest stage of the entire Cape Epic: 140 kilometres, Montagu to Greyton. The organisers called it an ode to the past: long open roads, district gravel, farm tracks. The kind of roads that existed before tar was a thing. And a lot of them.

Just like yesterday, we made sure we were on the front line at the start. Arrived early, positioned ourselves right at the front of our batch. It worked so well yesterday, that there was no reason to change the approach. The moment the clock hit 7:50:00, we went. Jeroen took the front immediately and started pushing his raw power on the tar road out of Montagu, through Cogmanskloof Pass. I sat on his wheel, trying to be as aerodynamic as you can be on a mountain bike. He was doing 30, 32 kilometres an hour - on a mountain bike. If you've never tried that, it's fast!

Soon a rider joined us from behind - another guy with apparently a lot of raw power on the flat. Together the three of us were motoring. Within the first 12 kilometres we were already overtaking back markers from the batch ahead of us. But then at kilometre 13 we hit the first singletrack and everything slowed down. The power guy disappeared, never saw him again once the trails started. We got stuck in the usual train: narrow paths, limited room to pass, riders of varying speed all funnelled into the same line. There's no point taking risks that early in a 141-kilometre day, so we sat in and waited for the opportunities to come.

After that first section, the stage opened up into what would define the rest of the day: first some for tar road, soon to be followed by gravel roads, farm roads, district roads. Endless tracks, some quite muddy from overnight rain, stretching out across the landscape with the Langeberg Mountains on the horizon. For the first 60 kilometres or so, we had mostly faced a headwind, that was stronger than predicted. Not brutal, but enough to make every pedal stroke feel just a little harder than it should. Jeroen stayed on the front for most of it. I couldn't contribute much to the pulling - he's simply stronger on the flat and there's no point pretending otherwise. My job was to close his wheel, stay efficient, and not be the reason we slowed down.

Then we made a sharp turn to the right, heading west, and suddenly everything changed. The headwind became a tailwind. A decent one. After hours of grinding into the wind, it felt like someone had switched off the resistance on a Kickr. We pushed on, kept passing riders, kept working our way through the field.

It was a really, really long day. Six hours and twenty-two minutes. But when we crossed the line and checked the results: 97th in the Masters category. From 186th yesterday to 97th today. On the longest stage of the race. That felt properly good, especially as this is a relative flat stage, where all riders can benefit from drafting in a train.

The post-stage routine is becoming second nature by now. Bikes to the service tent. Wash. Shower. Food. And then finally, the tent. In Montagu, chilling at camp was nearly impossible - those tents sat in direct sun and it was properly hot. But here in Greyton, it's a different world. Clouded skies, 22 degrees, a bit of wind. The tent is actually a pleasant place to be for once. Nap. Rest. Try to recover what you can.

Tomorrow is Stage 4. Around 84 kilometres with roughly 1750 metres of climbing. After today's 141k, sixty less sounds like a gift - but the route description mentions the infamous UFO climb and trails around Greyton and Genadendal that apparently offer no real respite. Proper mountain biking, not the open roads of today. Different challenge, different legs required.

We're halfway through the Cape Epic now. The body is tired, but today reminded us why we're here.

The Chase continues!