Once in the bottom of this fertile, magical valley we had 7k or more to the "re-group" and a mug or two of very strong percolated coffee with the loquacious Cape Nature Conservation warden at Ouplaas. Unfortunately all Xannie's stories of the valley and its past were in Afrikaans so I didn't understand anything! 49k-to-go. From here on we all did our own thing, no more re-grouping. There were 20 of us running the whole route, and one team of two sisters.

The moonlight was so bright we didn't need our torches to run by, just to investigate things. Once Maureen thought she saw a jersey in the road and called out "Tim, you've dropped something" - torchlight revealed it was actually something dropped by a donkey! Another time Jean Paul came back to us urging us to go very quietly and listen to something squeaking in the bushes to the side of the path. To me it sounded just like two insectivorous bats fighting so I switched on my headlamp and gullibly set off to investigate . it was a leaking water-pipe. The only real animals we saw were bats flitting past us, and one grey night-mare. We heard plenty of nightjars and owls and the occasional rustling in the bushes. By the early hours of the morning when we had run / walked substantially more than a marathon's distance, were tired and cold, and our blood sugar was low it was amazing what the moonlit rocks turned into. Winston was convinced he was seeing elephants, and Talia had to keep punching him to make him wake up.

Our seconds were waiting for us at the halfway mark. It had taken them 4 hours to drive there from the start, which gives an idea of the terrain! They had a welcome fire going with boerwors rolls for the hardy. Boiled potatoes were all I could stomach. Here we donned our backpacks with thermal clothes, rain-gear, and food for the long cold hours ahead. Immediately after this pause to change into dry, warm clothes and eat something, the road ascended .. very steeply. Going up didn't seem so bad as it was the kind of road you couldn't possibly run. It was a question of swing those arms and get those legs striding. Looking back from the top onto the gravel road snaking down like a writhing silver ribbon in the bright moonlight it was horrendous! I would be terrified to drive anything down it. No wonder the valley lay forgotten so long and is so remote and seldom visited, especially when you consider all the torturous mountain ranges that lie between this ascent and our finish point at the top of the Swartberg Pass. We lost count of how many saddles we summited and valleys we ran through. Someone was heard to comment "This is like doing Constantia Nek 20 times in a row!" Other comments heard were:-

• JP, I'll never accuse you of exaggerating again
• Didn't we run this pass about 3 kays ago?
• The moon is so bright, that when you switch on your headlamp, everything goes dark.
• This place is God's mountain pass factory.
• Why am I doing this?
• Hoe oud is jy ?
• God has installed a 5 million watt moon specially for the occasion.
• It's one cm cold !
• Its warmer in the moonlight
• We must be mad!
• This makes Comrades seem like a half marathon ... ( at about 5 a.m and minus 3°C ).

That's a matter of opinion, give me 80k of mountainous off-road any day! I was able to run two days later, but it took me six weeks to recover from Comrades - and I'd trained for Comrades ... sort of.

On the subject of -3°, what do you wear? For the last 10k or so I had on a yachting thermal long sleeved vest, a polar fleece top and a Cape-Storm pentex jacket, beenie, thermal gloves, and lycra tights overlaid with yachties thermal long johns (my hands were too frozen and my legs too stiff with cold at the halfway point to try to take the lycra tights off, so I just put the long johns over the top).

We didn't see any ghosts from the days of the valley's isolated past and the only time we felt at all threatened was when we came across a group of very inebriated pot-bellied hunters. They obviously couldn't believe what they were seeing.. after all, who would expect a bunch of runners to be traversing a valley way beyond the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night on a road that is long, torturous and difficult in a 4x4! At the passage of the front runners they must have decided that here was something most peculiar, so they moved their braai, chairs, and booze table to the road side and settled down to watch for more. Imagine thier surprised delight when suddenly a little blond appeared! Maureen had run on ahead of us - slap into their uproarous welcome. When three more females arrived they thought we were heaven sent. The feeling was not mutual. We politely refused offers of "soetus", massage - and other sundries, and made our escape. An hour or so later when we heard their vehicle approaching from behind we were relieved to find we were only a few hundred meters from the half way point and our protective seconds.

In the first half of the valley between The Ladder and the campsite we came across the occasional isolated Cape Dutch farm cottage. I think most of these are used as weekend getaways these days. Four cottages had people staying there as we passed, all with people braaing and like the hunters, they thought we were stark raving loony. As we completed the full course, we realised why! It wasn't just because we were doing it at night by the light of the moon, it was because we were doing it at all.

To our seconds, a huge thank you for driving those scary roads, being up so late, and being encouraging all the way, especially to Greg of Port Elizabeth who stayed with the back markers throughout the night in sub-zero temperatures. It was great to suddenly come across you every 10k or so, offering warmth and encouragement. Another special "Sheepdogs award" goes to Ronnie who stuck by Nick to the end. "Man of the Match" goes to Nick who was hurting so badly right from the beginning but wouldn't give up, and retained his sense of humour all the way.

We started at 4 p.m. on Saturday and got to the enormously welcome campsite at 6 a.m. on Sunday - and that's after precious little sleep on Friday night when we only got round to pitching our tents in the stunning kloof of Zeweweekspoort at 2:30 a.m. We then spent the rest of the night fighting gale battered tent poles and threshing fabric until we gave up, fought our way out and lay grumbling and giggling on top of the wretched tent.

When you finish you get a certificate rather than a medal, after all, you have to be certifiable to attempt a run like this!

It's hell with van Belle on the Puffer,
it's hell with van Bell in "Die Hel".

Is Puffer tougher ?..........
No! says v. Belle of "Die Hel",
it's much, much tougher than Puffer
it's sheer hell in "Die Hel" with v. Belle

With a wry smile v. Belle postulates,
there's only one pass in "Die Hel",
- the rest merely undulates.

The moonlight is eerie, and I'm frozen and blue,
Ten times now I've done it, so that can't be true!
The cold makes you stutter,........
Damn! I'm caught for a sucker
That's the hell of v. Belle in "Die Hel"