Perhaps you were fortunate enough to miss last years "An Ode to Van Belle" commemorating the first Moonlight Hell Run, an ultra race through Die Hel organized by (who else?) Jean-Paul van Belle. Well, part of the verse goes:

it's much, much tougher than Puffer

it's sheer hell in "Die Hel" with van Belle

Obviously that wasnt enough to scare away 26 lunatic runners this year, three of whom (besides JP) had run last year and should have known better! This run starts from Seweweekspoort, descends into Die Hel and finally ends approximately 75 kms later at the top of Swartberg Pass. What makes this race special is that it is run by the light of the full moon, which somewhat legitimizes the hallucinations that ultra runners often experience after forcing their exhausted bodies well beyond all reasonable limits.

At any rate, our tale starts the night before the run when I arrived early with two other runners and camped in the stunning kloof of Seweweekspoort . My traveling companions had spent much of the evening filling me with stories of ghosts, mysterious disappearances, murder and haunted ruins in this very canyon. Typical of most ultra runners, they were full of hot air and the night passed uneventfully (although I still cant explain the two marks I found on my neck the next morning.)

After enjoying a bit of a sleep-in, we rose to a sunny morning, ate breakfast and tried to outdo each others jokes. Ian Crooke (of CRAGs fame and race co-organiser) of course won this contest hands down. Eventually, he announced his intention to spend some quality time communing with nature. No sooner had Ian made himself comfortable in the doorless outhouse than 3 minibuses appeared out of nowhere and disgorged their passengers. The most desperate of them asked us the way to the toilet and we, rather taken by surprise, just pointed. We watched dumbly as our brains were overwhelmed by three thoughts: 1) here we were in the middle of bloody nowhere and suddenly three (not just one!) busloads of foreign tourists appear as if dropped from the sky to use our toilet, 2) how could Ian have such impeccable timing and 3) this was going to be good! We exchanged silly grins of disbelief. We didnt have long to wait before Ian emerged, rightfully accusing us of not warning him. He then told us how a woman had rushed into the outhouse, nearly died of shock upon seeing him, then demanded, "Vat are you doink in here?" Equally shocked but with his usual quick wit, Ian replied," Taking a sh*t, what else do you think Im doing in here!?!"

(This was not the first time Ian had experienced personal embarrassment when involved in an ultra. If youd like to know more, I can probably be persuaded to tell you the details of his experience during Rhodes.)

Later, having recovered our composure, we joined the other runners at the start around 3 pm. The timing of the start had been carefully calculated to get everyone down the treacherous "Ladder" before dark but what hadnt been considered was that it was well over 30 degrees when we started. Our intrepid leader Jean-Paul gave instructions to the seconds, organised getting cars to the finish, conned me into collecting the race fee and handing out the t-shirts (creatively designed by Ian for maximum confusion), then gave his welcoming address. This consisted of warnings about snakes, how cold it would become later in the night, the general lack of water and how much fun it all would be despite the fact that, of the 30 runners last year, 26 had chosen not to return. After the obligatory photos, we synchronized watches at 16:20 and sealed our fates as we began the run.

The first few kays (in full sunshine, not a tree in sight) seemed innocent enough as they were along a nearly level dirt road but, when we turned off on to a single track, we began to climb. Foolishly trying to keep up with the front runners, I felt extremes of body temperature Id never experienced before. It was as though someone was pumping hot water through the blood vessels in my head. I dont know what I looked like but my colour was probably not far from that of a beet. Even though I had plenty of electrolyte-filled Energade to drink, I know this overheating took its toll on meand others were definitely affected as well.

Fortunately, after about an hour we "summited" and headed down into the shaded valley. I had imagined a wide valley with karoo-type lack of vegetation; I mean, this place is called Hell so one expects a scene of total desolation. Imagine my surprise when I looked down (about 1000 meters down!) into a very long, very narrow valley whose floor was completely covered in green trees! It seems theres a year round stream that runs the length of the valley. Hell didnt seem so bad after allat this point anyway.

I can brag that I kept up with Arvind Varsani for the first 20 kays. (Arvind had just set a course record for the Three Peaks the weekend before.) My feat was not so impressive when one realises that he held back to lead the so-called front runners since he was the only one among us who had done the race last year and knew the way. It wasnt till the bottom of the Ladder, nearly two hours into the event, that he finally took off on his own. Thanks, Arvind, for keeping an eye on us and sacrificing your time (not that you had any competition to worry about!).

The "Ladder" turned out to be a nearly vertical, rough donkey track that once was the only link to the outside world for the residents of the valley. Boy, do I feel sorry for those donkeys!

Anyway, the valley had more surprises in store. Rather than derelict houses deserted by the former valley inhabitants, many had been restored and were now either owned by or rented out to yuppies to party their weekends away. I must have seen 3 dozen, mostly male yuppies braaing and drinking beer, staring at us in disbelief as we ran by. Once they caught on to the fact that we were running a race, they gave the back runners a hard time with comments like, "Didn't you see the turn-off four kays back?" or "No, you're the first one to come through here". Im so glad we provided entertainment for them.

The valley floor was nearly level so the running was easy except that my legs and feet were already getting sore long before the halfway point. One of these days I might actually train before doing an ultra. I was not a little taken aback when Muriel passed me and asked if I minded if she sang!!! And sing she did--just ask Lindsey who was running with her at that point.

As I continued on by myself, it was beautiful to see the coming twilight and to hear the barking geckos (I only learned what made those strange noises the next daythanks, Pam!). I was nearly bowled over when I came over a rise and, suddenly, there was the full moon. Being very low still, it seemed huge! It was a magical experience.

Unlike last year, we didnt make the obligatory stop at Ouplaas since Zannie van der Walt had his hands full with a bicycle race that was also in the valley this weekend. Thus we runners were spared the coffee and historical talk that was promised us.

Our only encounter with the cyclists was upon arrival at the campsite at the halfway point. Each runner received a rousing cheer from a good number of the 200 plus cyclists who were astounded that we were running so far. (They, however, were doing much the same course on their bikesthe down may be easy but we runners were glad not to be pushing bikes up the coming hills!)

At the halfway point, we were thrilled to see Roy and his bakkie full of supplies. Mind you, Roy is utterly convinced that we all should be locked up and wearing funny jackets but he cheerily checked us in and gave us much needed refreshment. Despite the fact that it was now after 9 pm and the sun had been down for hours, it was still warm and I was soaked with sweat. Roy said a cold wind was blowing when he set up his tent at the finish so we should take all our warm gear (which hed brought in the bakkie). I stripped off my wet clothes in a convenient port-a-potty and put on dry, long sleeved/pantsed clothes. I then discovered why my shorts had been soooo wet: my camelback bladder had a leak. I have no idea how much of the 2 liters I actually drank and how much leaked but I had only run out of liquid one kilometer before the halfway point! I managed to find an empty Energade bottle and jettisoned my bladder. Ive been spoiled by bladders and am used to sipping on demand; having to get the damned bottle out of my pack every time I wanted a drink meant I drank less often.

Anyway, after killing a half hour at the halfway, I started walking. I had been advised to walk most of the second half and was only too willing to take that advice. Besides, the first 4 or so kays from the halfway are seriously upas in more than 600 meters. I did most of the second half with Paul Mitchell who has an altimeter on his watch so I can tell you the altitude of every peak and every valley we covered (The highest point was 1400 m). What no one had bothered to tell us was that there were 14 of these peaks and valleys (Pam claims 14, Michelle says 15regardless, we thought theyd never end.) The sad thing is that this was all on easy dirt road and rarely was steep; had it been earlier in the run, we would have jogged these 25 kays with hardly a second thought. However, with 50 kays under our feet, few of us felt like running.

In fact, a few people had bailed at the halfway point. The big shock was that this included our glorious leader, Jean-Paul, who had been leading from the rear since nearly the beginning. Due to lack of training and some persistent foot problems, he had never intended to race competitively and thus had no qualms about bailing (His first time ever!). Being of good northern European stock, he doesnt take heat well and had apparently suffered some degree of heat stroke in the very beginning. His head ached so badly that at times he could barely walk but hed managed to get as far as the halfway point. Lindsey gave him some ibuprofin when she saw him in the back of the bakkie; apparently this worked like a charm as, after being driven to the finish, he crawled into his sleeping bag and had a lovely 5 hours of sleep. (Are we sure this wasnt a set up?)

Those of us made of sterner stuff may have sacrificed a nights sleep but we were rewarded with a spectacular astronomical display: a fantastic meteor that produced multi-coloured sparkles that lasted a good 10 seconds! As the meteor was so bright and everyone was in the wide open spaces, all the runners saw it and will undoubtedly never forget that incredible sight. All the runners that is except Arvind who had already long since finished the race and was enjoying the sleep the rest of us mere mortals never got.

Well, yes, those last 25 kayswhat can I say? They just didnt want to end. As we topped each rise, we could see ahead of us the entire distance down and up to the next rise where (we correctly surmised) there was another identical valley awaiting us. I kept waiting for the hallucinations to set in but they eluded me. Supposedly, as one gets tired, the moonlight plays tricks on the mind. But I (amazingly) never felt sleepy and, besides, the moon was so darned bright that it was hard to imagine mistaking a burned protea for a person. Im speaking for myself; apparently Esther saw all sorts of houses amongst the big rocks.

Paul and I walked with Lindsey for a while and discovered that she can walk uphill faster than a speeding bullet! She left us huffing and puffing but since she had pulled something, she couldnt run down the hills. So, while she left us behind on the ups, we got ahead of her on the downs. Eventually the downs outdistanced the ups and we widened the gap. However, she had found a willing escort in Dave Langhan so we didnt feel too guilty. A couple of times, on a long uphill, Lindsey and Dave came within hearing distance and Id say," Theyre catching up". Paul would just say, "I dont care." And this from a man who does 6 day, 500 km adventure races!

As Paul and I trudged on, we verbally stuck pins in Jean-Paul. In the e-mails he said the route was 65 kms but, at the start, we were told it was actually 73 kms. Believe me, those extra kays were not appreciated. Pam claims it was closer to 80 judging by her pedometer. All I know is it took all my mental strength to force my aching knees and hurting soles to "run" (fast shuffle) down the hills. Actually it was a refreshing change to partner with someone who was in just as much misery as I was; usually I try to keep up with someone faster who clearly doesnt appreciate the pain Im in but Paul fully shared my pain. Of course we exchanged the usual comments such as: "Are we having fun yet?" and "Tell me again, we do this because we enjoy it?" Also, since the weather continued to be balmy, we quipped, "Gee, Im sure glad I brought all my cold weather gear!"

About 4 am, when we were certain we really were in Hell and would spend the rest of eternity going up and down these endless valleys, we spied a light ahead. We soon realized it was in a small pine plantationit was the finish!! The power of mind over matter is amazing as we covered that last 2 kays with a speed we hadnt been able to muster for at least six hours. At 4:14 am, we checked in with the bleery-eyed recorder and I quickly got some life-restoring juice from Colleen who had already been at work for a couple of hours making potjie kos. I crawled into my sleeping bag not 10 minutes after finishing and made an unpleasant discovery: after forcing your legs to keep going for 12 hours, you cant just turn them off. Normally, after a race you have a shower, eat a good meal, have a drink or more, and walk around a little. Trying to bypass this process is not advisableI couldnt keep my legs in one position for more than 2 minutes. I tossed and turned in my sleeping bag for 2 hours; Im sure I traveled at least one more kilometer!

The last group came in just at 6 am and managed to bring with them clouds, drizzle and a cool wind. By 7:30, we all were up, hobbling around and enjoying several varieties of potjie kos (including vegetarian!!!) thanks to the considerable efforts of Colleen and Calvin. We all headed home by 10, gladly relinquishing the road to the cyclists.

Now I can say Ive been to Hell and backand mean it!

Near the start of the Hell Run

In die Hell at "moonrise"

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(c) 2000 Caroline Brawner (and some Jean-Paul Van Belle)