Unique to the wild coast are the sights of cattle just chilling on the beach. Nowhere along the coast have I seen this. There has been the odd day that I have seen an ostrich or buck on the dunes, but cattle, no. The wild coast has small herds of cattle that seem to just lie on the beach and “Chill”, staring out at the sea for hours. The cattle have some of the most amazing markings as well as serious horns, but as docile as ever, they just check you out with this hangdog look as you walk past.

We came loping down this big hill and onto the beach. Ahead lay a lonely cow, doing the Kei thing and just Chilling on the beach. Braam was walking ahead and I had stopped to photograph some crabs scurrying on the beach. An incredible calm day  beauty oozed out all around us. But all was not going according to plan ahead. Braam was walking towards the cow and I don’t know if he was insulting the cow by trying to talk to it, or it just didn’t want to listen. But this fellow was seriously peeved and for no reason shot up and headed for Braam.His head down, horns pointing, the sand was being revved up under its feet. Hearing a bit of commotion I looked up. I just saw Braam as he lurched forward and head off down the beach at a serious sprint, the cow up, swinging in his direction and the charge was on. Snorting, sand flying a bit of yelling and down the beach they went.

I can remember looking at the months that lay ahead and the time that it would take to complete the run, they seemed as big a hill as the distance that I had to cover, the weeks just would not tick over, let alone the first month. The first few days seemed like eternity an hour itself was a huge target. Now I can’t even remember what day or month it is as every thing has picked up such speed, the days just evaporate and I find the scale reversed as I now look at how little time is left and the distance is such a small target in the grand scheme of the whole journey. But there is a constant reminder of what I have put myself through.

The physical and mental fatigue sits like the bank of cloud of a cold front on the horizon. I have this permanent layer of tiredness that just seems to want to pull my eyes closed, some days I have got to the stage that I just walk stretches of the beach with my eyes closed, as I grind along the soft sand my legs burn as they endlessly lift and, punch my feet through the soft sand, my calf muscles just want to cramp and explode with each step. Wet feet from river crossings and socks filled with sand continuously grind away at the layers of depleted skin, so thin that some days the blood just seems to run freely. The salt crystals from my drying shorts after river mouth swims are like needles in my thighs scratching away at the soft tissue as I run, with burning pain as the thin layers rupture.

The hills of the Transkei coast look like a branch of a thorn tree and I feel like an ant endlessly climbing each one, day after day stringing the hills together, There is the mental reward of making it to the top, but only to be body punched as you look over at the next one. I am consistently fighting with myself and convincing myself that the next day it will flatten out. That the hills will become flat and there will be hard beaches to run from sunrise to sunset.

The waves of pain and hunger are a daily fight, as the terrain gets worse so to does the crews chance of supplying us become a nightmare. It’s been days now that we don’t get together, only in the evening at our extraction point. 8 to 10 hours with no food   grinding on, depleted of our own reserves by the months of running. As the waves of hunger sweep over me I just drink water and hope that they will go.

Each day has become a tactical mental battle within . An internal understanding of how best I function and how I can utilise my energy and body over the day and reach the target. But most importantly manage the fatigue and pain that it does mot get the better of me, as the journey gets longer so I feel one gets closer to that point. I still amaze myself on a daily basis at the strength of the human mind.

Its been 10 weeks on the coast , 10 weeks that have just evaporated , but weeks that have changed as much as the tides . So often when you start out on a journey ones original perception and end picture are miles apart. Like ones memories, with time become less clear, so does a journey tend to fade in the distance as you leave faint impressions in the dust, with each impression a thought has been processed, as I look back at my trail of thoughts that swirl and scatter in the wind, there is a lasting picture that has started to take shape. A picture of beauty as the puzzle of this mass of coastline slowly starts to make scene to me. But it seems to be a lot deeper than just beauty, there is an underlying scene of things are slowly happening. Not just because its getting through another African day, but each day around me has a purpose, its just another little piece to this giant puzzle, some of the pieces I  can see don’t fit, but with time they will be discarded, as only the correct piece will eventually fit.

I have a deeper understanding of the rural communities and how they work, slow to react, but once there is trust and a belief that things will be ok, the response is overwhelming. I think that this is one of the best examples of basic lessons in life. Be honourable and trustworthy and anything is possible.

What more could we ask for

It’s been 3 incredible days of running our beach freeway; the massive storm waters have cleared the beach of all the parallel dunes. The local fishermen have told us a week ago we would not have been able to run the beach as it was one massive soft dune field. But our euphoria has been intermittently jarred with little injections of adrenaline, - river crossings.
Our first encounter was the mighty Fish River, flowing strongly and with the added strength of the tidal surge. Arriving on the bank we stripped down ,wrapping all our gear into a black bag and gingerly entered the river. As we waded into the water, the current began to swirl around my feet, I could feel the sand disappearing under me as the water dug it away, the deeper we got the lighter the pressure was on our feet, I felt that at any minute my feet would loose their hold and I was going to be swept out to sea. But that was the least of our worries, every local fisherman had warned us about the river mouths and the sharks, especially the Ragged tooth, who lie in the deep river channels, opportunist hunters, waiting for something to float past with the current, and on top of this, they are the fastest known side striking fish.
The odds against us making it across we adding up,we had a quick midstream discussion as well as a look at the distance to the  far bank, then the thought of what might lie lurking deep in the channel seemed to sway the decision , without saying anything we both turned and headed back the way we came, picking up speed as we seemed to sprint to the finish with the odd glance over my shoulder, imagining this massive fin chasing us. On reaching the bank again, out of breath and pretending it was a little fun jog, we opted for the 4km run to the bridge and over the Mighty Fish River.
It was not long down the beach, and the next river appeared , now with running along the Ciskei coast, rivers  were a plenty . Again we waded into the river, dark ,deep water lay ahead  ,again the jaws theme song seemed to play in the back of my head. Just as we were about to opt for the long run to the bridge, up the river came a speed boat loaded with fishermen ,  kindly offering to escorted us across the river I think these guys could see the relief on our faces.

On we ran, 10 km later we bumped into someone really interesting, a Daggered tooth shark researcher who caught and tagged sharks in the rivers, just what we  needed. Spending a while with him, we gathered all the info we could with regards to the eating habits of our new found friends, as well as to be proudly informed that the biggest one that he had tagged was a few hundred Kg – Great! On we ran, our minds playing havoc with us, digesting all this, let’s say very comforting information.
Round the headland lay our next river. Sitting on the bank, stripping we had mountains of information to plan this crossing, remote, deep and fast flowing-  Summing up or newly acquired info, the answer was quite simple, swim like mad and keep your feet off the bottom. Off we set, doing the cool casual wade in, but it wasn’t long, our legs without any encouragement ended firmly pulled up around our necks our arms flapping at the water, like 2 Cormorants trying to take off with wet wings. In seconds we shot the river mouth, bouncing as we beached hitting the opposite bank, – but, believe it or not in my haste I left my camera on the other side. Back I went with a plastic bag, the pace some what quicker on the second run, shooting up the bank I lay there re gaining my breath trying to delete the thoughts that I had conjured up as I crossed. Looking back at Braam shouting and laughing about how big he thought the sharks might be in this estuary, but wait buddy your river will come. 
Camera tightly packed, I was now ready for the final crossing, in my mind the odds were seriously against me, the 3rd crossing. Standing on the bank, my heart pounding as if I were about to launch into the pool for the 100m Olympic final. I lunged forward, before hitting the water I had already done my first 2 strokes, then I hit it with my chest and lurched forward as my windmill arm motion dug in and basically bounced across, reaching the other bank I scrambled out and lay there, quickly checking if I had managed the feat to keep all my limbs in tact. I then looked down to see if there were any crimson red telltale signs in the water, with a feeling of relief I just lay there and quietly laughed at how ones mind can play games with you.