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Days are becoming rhythmical. The routine is steady.
There is no halfway, no end point. Just day four in a timeless world of travel, danger, adventure, exhaustion, drama, fun, stoicism and of course, those children in need of surgery.
They come into the unit, which spans the Frere and Makiwane hospitals, burnt, sometimes too hungry to have surgery, often their injuries socially unnecessary.
Most are from the rural Eastern Cape where life is hard.
We are on the road for two weeks, but all the staff at that unit are on the road day in and day out.
Their road of trauma, but also much joy, never ends.
Today the G-dads are feeling it.
Being on board with the ride is to experience a plethora of compelling need, mercy and empathy — and with 10 days still to go on the Eyabantwana Trust’s fundraising 1,500km Heritage Ride, the troopers are on the long march.
The ritual is: wake in the dark (the sun rose at 5.30am on Thursday), slug-walk into the little kitchen for instant coffee, shuffle through to the shower to be somewhat decent for breakfast.
It’s already 4.15am, we leave at 4.30am to beat the sun!
Gooi everything into a backpack and rush to pick up Prof Colin Lazarus, 82, who will not be cycling for “some days” due to a knee injury.
There is an incredible moment on the side of the busy road. As the team takes a breather, pastor Corné Pretorius, 54, drops to his haunches, delicately cups the swollen knee of the legendary prof, a spiritual man, and prays to God for healing.
The doc and I in the Pajero, scanning the dry bush of the R40 for game while the oupa army pedals forth in electric-blue spandex.
Ahead of our 97km run comes the home of the wildest adventures: the Kruger National Park.
The park is bone dry. Grey brush eye-to-horizon. Too hot for the majestic animals.
Patience. Prof Colin is at home here. He is not fazed about not seeing the big cats; he is scanning trees for owls.
We pass water. Everyone is there. One ellie, two ellies, a whole herd of ellies and babies.
Mothers flap their ears to warn us not to get too close.
My grandfather used to say all family trips had a four-day limit. After that it goes pear-shaped.
And there have been moments.
Jimbo Armstrong’s bike, his “Black Mamba”, has conked out. Peter-John Berlyn’s chain kept slipping. Mac Richardson punctured a tyre on glass.
I am an “embedded” journalist, not really one for embroidery, but that is the name of the bicycle shop where I am sent to find Gerald’s “bike-cleaning foam”.
It’s not in Louis Trichardt and even Phalaborwa’s Bike Shop and Embroidery does not have the foam.
Captain Andrew Langtree, 65, suffers “hot foot”, pours water over his socks, says it’s like being stuck with a red-hot poker when he pedals.
When buckets of beer in ice arrive, he invariably ... shoves his foot in it?
But spirits are high. No matter the issue, the army are a fussin’, fightin’ army of problem-solvers. Together, they fix anything.
At the start of Thursday’s ride, no fewer than five grandads hover and poke around Jimbo’s bike, talking tech-nalese about this and that wire, heads bent together in the artisan’s prayer.
Second-hand spares fixed Peter-John Berlyn’s chain. Mac’s tyres have fancy goo inside and had moulded into the gash.
Busier roads thin the riders into a one-man line, spread out like blue dots on a map.
The trucks are still ginormous, blaring past, shaking the very air.
Today’s padkos: Cheddars, banana, Jungle Oats bar, mini hot cross bun, half a mince roll, three baby potatoes with salt sachet, and brekkie biscuits.
Clouds overhead feel like rain. Roasted by heat, will frigid wind and rain be their next Goliath?
Support the ride and the trust. Donate to Eyabantwana for the Children Trust, Nedbank, Beacon Bay, current account 1138181366 or give at Given Gain at www.givengain.com/campaign/eyabantwana-heritage-ride
Follow @eyabantwana and @DailyDispatch on all social platforms.
Daily Dispatch
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