When I received a call from Shayamanzi Houseboat, inviting us to experience and capture their mountain biking game trail, the first thought that fleeted into my mind was whether I could actually ride a bike. The last time I was in the saddle was over 20 years ago, but the words of intrepid travel doyenne Kate Turkington rang in my mind, “Never Say No”. So we accepted the challenge and whisked off to Lake Jozini in Northern KwaZulu Natal.

Now the first step of a mountain biking adventure is to look the part. Bikers have their own unique cult-style of sleek and shiny skin tight pants, fancy elasticated shirts with zips and pockets in unusual places, tiptoe cleat feet and futuristic aerodynamic helmets. A few good friends pulled together and I was the proud borrower of a really snazzy authentic get-up.

A good start – I looked the part!

Arriving at Tiger Jozini Lodge, my first glimpse of Shayamanzi was something to behold. The boat poses proudly on the aquamarine water beneath the mountain, its reflection doubling its prowess on the still lake. Once onboard, we were greeted with a glass of bubbly, and explored the stylish lounge, dining area and bar as well as our luxury en-suite bedroom with a glass wall opening onto the lake. Following a short safety briefing and friendly welcome, the captain tooted the horn and Shayamanzi did what its name means and “hit the water”.

We lounged on the front deck, chatting to our fellow guests and soaking up the sun and incredible view as we cruised down the gorge towards the main lake. We spent our first evening fishing for tigers while the African sun set in a spectacular rainbow of vivid colours, and admiring the glittering disco of thousands of fireflies dancing on the shoreline at twilight, before tucking into a glorious dinner and enjoying a good night’s sleep.

The majestic Shayamanzi Luxury Houseboat

Day 2 dawned bright and early and held the promise of a voyage of discovery atop our two wheeled speed machines. As our bikes were loaded onto the tender boats and taken to the shore, I donned my outfit and joined the other cyclists. My heart was pounding as the reality of seeing whether two wheels would keep me upright kicked in.

Once on shore, we mounted our noble steeds, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I managed to coax mine forward without any spectacular mishap. So far, so good.

We met our cyclist-come-game ranger, Mitch, who led the pack and everyone quickly fell into order behind him. I always like to mosey at my own pace and enjoy watching everyone else ahead. As suits my style (and still-secret lack of skill) I brought up the rear of the peloton. Well, almost the rear – my saviour-to-be, Bheki, rode right at the back, keeping a calm and dependable eye on everyone and ready to assist with any mechanical (or physical) oopses.

View from the rear of the peloton

The area is suffering from a dreadful drought – the dry ground was virtually devoid of grass and most of the bushes were still without leaves as the Spring rain had not yet arrived. Although this is life threatening for the wildlife, it makes for fantastic game viewing, and we enjoyed seeing massive herds of animals hovering near the lake shore. My cycling took intense concentration and I was unable to lift my eyes for long to appreciate the view without starting to shake and wobble. I will be eternally grateful for our filming pauses, which gave me the time to catch my breath and also absorb the incredible surroundings.

I loved our close encounter with an enormous prehistoric-like rock monitor, the curious giraffe following our pack, the thousands and thousands of warthogs grazing together, and the herds of wildebeest and impala thundering between the cyclists. Riding through a game park allows you to get much closer to wild animals than you would on foot, and the vivid sights, sounds and smells of nature as we glided through the bush were absolutely amazing.

A close encounter with a prehistoric monitor

After a few hours of cycling and around 25 kilometers of relatively flat terrain, I was bursting with triumph – against all odds, I had made it! We stood with our bikes at the side of the lake, where the Pongola River meanders into Jozini, and admired Shayamanzi as it floated next to a pod of hippos, with a lazily munching white rhino on the opposite shore. Life could not be better.

I had used my stores of energy perfectly and reckoned I had just enough vooma left to scramble onto the tender boat and to the bar on board. I could already taste the huge glass of cooldrink and hear the ice clinking in the glass. To my absolute horror, Mitch casually announced, “Just one more hill and we’re there”.

With the finish line snatched from my grasp, triumph turned to panic. I had two great numb trunks where my thighs used to be. My reserves were depleted. My determination had evaporated and been replaced with thoughts of spread-eagling on my king sized luxury bed.

The finish line was snatched from my grasp

And then came THE HILL. It rapidly became clear why it is called mountain biking. As I fought back the urge to crumble into a pathetic heap and hope for rescue, an ominous rumbling sounded from the West. Bheki gently urged me forward, kindly saying things like “Its just up this hill then the next steeper one”, and “Don’t worry, its only a few more kilometres.” A kilometre uphill had become my Comrades Marathon. I was competing in Iron Man without having done any training. There was no way I could do it. I slithered from my bike and started pushing, thinking of the little train from nursery school. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I know I can, I know I can, who am I kidding – I can’t, I can’t.

The skies darkened with my despair, and the heavens burst into tears, weeping torrential rain on the parched soil. The sky lit up and a bolt of lightning forked from the clouds to the hill on my left. Thunder crashed as it hit the ground in a spectacular pyrotechnic explosion. I imagined a puddle of molten graphite, rubber and nylon, and a burst of hidden power surged from within me. I leapt back in the saddle and pedalled for all I was worth. With rain gushing from the grooves in my helmet, I summited the beast, and found my gang waiting in a barn, admiring the storm.

I had finally made it. I reached deeper than I knew existed within me, and conquered my demons – with a little encouragement from above. What a sublime mix of adrenalin, adventure, endorphins and the wonder of nature. Thank you Shayamanzi for this truly unforgettable very first mountain bike ride.

Our pack from above

Visit www.shayamanzi.co.za for more information.