Dirt Rag Magazine

The Adventure Diaries: Final dispatch from the ABSA Cape Epic


The Single Track of Wellington

In the slate dark morning of Stage 6, we woke to the sound of raindrops patting the tents and campers. “Hmm,” I thought. “Today’s shorter, cross-country distance stage could be more decisive than we’d expected.” Sure enough, soon after the starting gun, the field was peppered with crashes. The peloton was snaking through turns and the accordion of riders would scrunch together vying for position. The sound of rider’s bikes smashing behind and sliding on gravel indicated my instincts to get to the front where spot on.


My tired legs didn’t want to snap like they should in a criterium race, but I had to move up. For a while, I rode at the front for the team. Then Robert Mennen and I were separated. The ensuing singletrack was awesome. We were parked on the back of Team Bulls 1 for a fast trail tour! Karl Platt was trying to nurse his teammate and Swiss Champion Urs Huber who was having back pain. The pace was brisk, but since we had no need to help the third place team chase our guys down, we were content with that. The trails were awesome: 18 miles of singletrack, including Roller Coaster, Point Break and Heaven’s Gate weaved and dashed through a pine forest.

The End in Sight

The finale of Stage 7 was a point-to-point race to Laurensford Vineyard. It was anything but an easy stage. This one was especially tough not because of the course, but because it was the last chance for a coveted stage win!

Again, the start was chaotic. I suppose that after eight days in a row, I shouldn’t have expected anything less. One minute you’re cruising at 25 mph down the road looking out for widow maker potholes through a sea of wheels and riders. The next minute you see the helicopter hovering in place and then hear the sliding of brakes on gravel as riders chicane across a narrow bridge. Then it’s back to 25 mph from a sandy standstill. After being yo-yoed once, I pushed through and picked up Alban Lakata from our A team; bringing him to the front and setting a stiff tempo to keep it single file and moving. It was fun to command a peloton and set a hard pace on the front.

Soon we approached the KOM climb. It was 2,000 vertical feet with some nasty hike-a-bike in the middle. Team Merandal Centurion Vaude was going full gas to get the $1,700 prime at the top. Team Multivan Merida was in hot pursuit. I was behind them with Kristian Hynek, but it was important not to pass our boys on the big downhill backside; my job was to make sure my Topeak-Ergon team brought home second place in the overall and the slightest crash could ruin the week.


Sure enough, the two teams up front descended like men with nothing to lose. Once we regrouped in the valley, Robert, Kristian and I took up chase. We did 25 miles of farm tracks, dirt roads and sandy connectors in just over an hour.  Without much help from Team Specialized’s Kulhavy and Sauser (the GC leaders) or Martin Guijan and Fabian Geigere we came up short of catching the escape artists just like a road race. We hit the final climb and I nuked it trying to see if I could get our team leaders in position for the podium, but we’d have to be satisfied to secure second-place for the week.


It’s difficult to describe the satisfaction of riding as hard as we did this week. My hands were raw, my right knee was aching, an ankle barely holding out to the last day, it seemed like an army mission. To finish this one feels good, but to do so as a team working together to battle the best in the world; it’s a special accomplishment. It was Christoph Sauser’s last Cape Epic as a pro and he earned the win, the celebrations showed a career’s accomplishment with five Cape Epic Wins.

For me a little break at home to enjoy the spring and some family time. Next target is Pisgah Stage Race in North Carolina and the U.S. National Marathon Championships in Augusta Georgia.



The Adventure Diaries: ABSA Cape Epic Stages 4-5


Dusty desert riding

Stage four in Worcester (a city in the Western Cape) was long and hot with tons of dust, as is common late summer on the desert side of the mountains. We started hard. Matthys Beukes and his teammate Phillip Buys from Scott factory Racing nailed the first climb hard and got a gap on the rest of us.

It’s always really nervous in the pack. I guess it’s because you can’t see the ground at all sometimes. The dust is so think you can only see shadows riders five feet in front of you. This is particularly dangerous when the group is doing 35 mph down a rutted, rocky downhill. It’s so dry that sand patches can be a foot deep and you don’t know they’re not solid until you’re sideways!

Eventually, the leaders decided the Scott team was not a threat to the top 10 in General Classification and the pain was not worth the effort of chasing them. It was a nasty 50 minutes though.

After that, our lead group just rode tempo until the late climbs; even taking it easy at times, including a rare pee break that was initiated by Cape Epic veteran Karl Platt of the Bulls team.

Along the desert route we passed through a few vineyards. Each had 60 or more employees out en masse and cheering loudly for us. During this stage, several schools also turned out to cheer for us. There were kids jumping up and down and we all broke our game faces into nice smiles.

Finally, on the course’s last three climbs, the racing got hot. Our Topeak Ergon “A” team of Alban Lakata and Kristian Hynek went on the offense, but wasn’t able to gain any significant time over the others. They won the race against the heavy hitting teams in our bunch, which felt like a win while the Scott team managed to stay off the front for a taste of victory with the stage win.

My “B” team partner Robert Mennen had a punctured tire, but it seemed to seal on its own, so we rode in trading pulls with the Merida Team. We came around one corner after our flat to see Centurion Vaude teammates Jochen Kaess and Daniel Geismayr laying on the ground on a steep, rutted dirt road drop-in. They’d crossed wheels in the dust and as one of them corrected, the other went over the bars! We stopped to check on them. Kaess had a bloody nose and both their helmets were cocked from impact. Physically, they seemed ok. Since they were both coherent so the rest of us continued on.

At the finish, we looked like gladiators covered in fine black powder.


The King Stage

I knew Stage 5 would be hard, but it turned out different than we planned. Early on, Alban flatted and I gave him my wheel. By the time we’d repaired Alban’s flat, Robert and I had lost considerable time. We rode a steady, hard pace but there was no point in killing it since we couldn’t even see the lead helicopter on the naked horizon. We pushed hard to catch a large group that was about three minutes ahead and included the Masters Category leader Bart Brentjens. I knew this group would move fast on the great expanse of flat, bumpy Jeep roads and pavement of the Pass.

A short time later we got word that Alban had twisted his chain while Robert and I fixed the flat. Bummer! They’d clawed their way back up to fifth for the day but descend into second in GC. The looks on their faces showed the great disappointment; it’s the biggest race of the year for them and they probably won’t be able to win it.

There were some highlights of the day’s stage for me. One would have to be seeing a puff adder—a fat nasty looking one! The other was witnessing the closest race in Master’s Category GC history of the Cape Epic: those guys were attacking the last climb like hornets! They’d block the second rider of a team before the singletrack in a bid to hold up the front attacker: clever moves!

In the end, it was another five-plus-hour stage. We are all tired now. Painful hand blisters, weary eyes, sunburn and saddle fatigue all add up. Legs are working very good, but at times I can feel every sore fiber of muscle within them.

We have two days left, and thankfully they’re not the “Leadville 100’s” of the past days!

Come on finish line!


Keep reading

You can read all of the Adventure Diaries columns from Jeremiah Bishop here.


The Adventure Diaries: ABSA Cape Epic Prologue and Stages 1-3


Here we go

The Table Mountain Prologue was a short, intense and exciting opener to the Cape Epic. In this team time trial, my Topeak Ergon Racing teammate Robert Mennen and I nabbed ninth place. The exhilaration of racing in the world’s biggest mountain bike race, with a TV helicopter shadowing you along the cliff-side, is indescribable. At the finish line, we were interviewed on live TV and then escorted to the “Rider Reception Zone” where we were offered towels and a place to sit; at each chair was a bucket, sponge and mini hose for each rider to clean off with. Lets just say the details are dialed at the Cape Epic. At that point, it became obvious to me this race had doubled in importance and has the richest prizepurse in the world. Since my last time competing at the Cape Epic in 2008, there are more pro teams here; and the big teams all have back up teams, like mine, that will sacrifice a wheel or help pace the leaders back to the front group in the event of drama. Notably, there is some great single track on the course versus the point-to-point gravel roads of days gone by.

Stage 1 was going great, despite the hectic start with a giant dust ball from the peloton as we rode into the rising sun. It was an amazing sight, but terrifying because you can’t see that hole or rock on the jeep trail until your get up from your crash! As we climbed into the clouds Robert and I made the leaders group – that’s no small task against a field of Olympic gold medalists, national champions and world champions.

Then we descended a steep, treeless jeep trail that I could only describe as obliterated with broken building blocks strewn on top of sand. Riders were flying down it at breakneck speed and with a dust blocking our tearing, foggy eyes it was impossible to avoid every rock. Robert and I both flatted at the same time. We patiently fixed our flats, but mine went down again ten minutes later so I plugged it with my Samurai handle bar end tire plug.

We got a wheel at the feed zone and chased back up to Centurion Vaude’s Jochen Kaess and Daniel Geismayr, and along the way we rode with former cross-country World Champion and Olympic gold medalist Bart Brenjins a bit, so that was novel.

But once we got clear of the group of eight, I sensed a soft rear tire. “Again? You’ve got to be kidding,” I thought. We carried a Topeak pump with us, so we fixed it without incident. This time we got back on and decided it was best to just ride steady, since we lost a lot of time and our job for the remainer of the stages will surely involve supporting Topeak Ergon “A” team of Alban Lakata and Kristian Hynek. They rode well today, and with one flat just after our first, they managed to secure fourth in GC.

The race has just begun, but now I remember just how hard the Cape Epic is!


One Day to Forget, Another to Remember

For Stage 2, an other-worldly landscape was the backdrop for some serious suffering on my part. Early in the stage, a piece of netting became caught in my cassette. I was sidelined while I worked to get it free. Then I tried to chase back to my teammate Robert and the rest of the leaders. As I rode on, I had stomach trouble. My legs followed and became powerless. Things settled down by the time I passed the second feed zone. Unfortunately, while I was struggling, Robert rode ahead to carry on his support role for Alban and Kristian in case either of them flatted or needed assistance. At the checkpoints, the time separation between Robert and me was greater than the allowed two minutes, we were penalized an hour in the GC.

While I was riding alone, the route entered a burn area. It was surreal. My bonked state enhanced the strangeness of weaving through pillars of white rocks on a white line of single track. The maroon pine needles, and black trees rising up from grey ground made me imagine it is what a forest on Mars might look like.

Eventually, Robert and I reconnected. I rode with him pacing me, as we crossed to the vineyard side of the mountains. I felt like a dog being dragged on a leash with a sharp collar.

Then I started to feel better and actually enjoyed some of the North Shore-style features made in part with used wine barrels cupped together like a bobsled track. Sweet!

Stage 3 was much better; my legs were back!

Over the tough first climb, Robert and I made the selection of the elite group. Our team worked the front and kept steady pressure on Songo-Specialized. In tow were Multivan-Merida, Scott, Centurion Vaude and the Bulls. I was wondering if I could keep doing every climb at 370-400 watts for a 5-hour stage?


As we approached Aid Station 2, Specialized flatted. Alban decided not to attack but ride tempo. Specialized had a fast wheel change, got back in the group and went hard on the hot, rock-strewn climb! My face was red with the baking heat under the Karoo sun. Robert and I got gaped, but caught back after that climb.

The Bulls flatted and the pace ramped up. It got nasty as we pace-lined down the road. Then we faced three kilometers of beach-like sand. After a mistake in a deep sand trap, Alban was gapped and Jaroslav Kulhavý from Specialized sensed it.


The pace was fierce. We raced across a 500-meter long damn; I paced Alban halfway across, helping him and Kristian move into second place for the stage and moving them into second in the GC.

Robert and I crossed the line in third place and were quickly swept up in the podium reception. It was an awesome feeling, indeed, after a hard 85-mile stage of the Cape Epic.




The Adventure Diaries: Jeremiah Bishop starts the season

Ergon Bishop

By Jeremiah Bishop

This winter, I have been training like a blacksmith making armor for an epic battle looming on the horizon. So I was eager when it was finally time to travel to the first race in mid-February. I was headed for the Andalucía Bike Race in southern Spain.

With so many weeks spent training in winter’s cold, I decided I’d earned a couple of good sightseeing and time-zone-acclimating days in Europe in advance of the race. I made my way to Spain via Nicé, France, where I enjoyed a few days training with World Tour climbing ace and good friend Joe Dombrowski.

Right off my overnight trans-Atlantic flight, Joe took me out for a dream road ride. We nailed a five-hour route with 10,000 feet of elevation gain in 60 miles. It was like a pinball game made for road bikes. Every legendary climb in Cote d’Azur is marked with cycling signage; kilometer-to-go markers and numbered switchbacks line each ascent. When we descended, we were like darts. There were high-speed potentially deadly cliffs with 180-degree turns, spirals and tunnels. Wow! It was like riding down a gravity-fed, paved roller coaster of serpentine switchbacks with the azure Mediterranean as an incredible backdrop. At one point, the sheer vertical drops made me nauseous; or maybe that was the mere three hours of sleep I was living on.

After a couple days of getting on the time zone, I also had a chance to adjust to the food. Better than amazing, I feasted on mushroom tortellini, nice wine and octopus ink pasta one night, and loup de mer (sea wolf) the next.

I had to wave farewell to Nicé; the real adventure was next. I joined my Topeak-Ergon team in Spain’s olive country between Cordoba and Jaen for our team orientation and the first race of the year.

There was a lot to learn – and quick!

I had a new Canyon Lux with custom RockShox RS1 fork and prototype tires. Yes! I was like, “Oh, yeah! I got a license to drop some trail!” The bike is sharp, smooth and looks mean!

And then there was the fact that I was racing as part of a two-man team. Within the race, Topeak-Ergon divided our squad into two pairs: a lead team and the support team.

I have known our team captain and former World Marathon Champion Alban Lakata for years. He would join Kristian Hynek for our “A” team. In our support roles, my race partner Robert Mennen and I were sizing each other up. Last year, Robert won Cape Epic. Meanwhile, I was competing in the US cross country and endurance race scenes and had a couple US titles under my belt. It was like pairing a Formula 1 and NASCAR driver – in the best ways.

Coming into the Andalucía Bike Race, Robert was recovering from a recent chest cold; and I was about to see where my fitness was. I’d been working hard in the off-season, but in the absence of racing it’s tough to know for sure. As we took on the ABR, we found that our pairing worked well. Robert liked to rip it on the downhills and flats, and I was stronger on the climbs.

The racecourse was harder than I thought it would be. The climbs were massive and there was slick mud over soupy limestone covered trails. During a couple stages I thought, “Am I out of shape or are we really climbing 10,000 feet on mountain bikes in just three and a half hours?” (Leadville does this amount of elevation more than six and a half hours.)

A large part of the first-race-of-the-year-shock was mostly the wake-up call that comes from facing a globally competitive field so early in the season. My form is there, and now the motor is warmed up. In fact, the race did get easier as it went on. In our support roll, we knew it was more about smooth consistent riding and getting in a solid ride.

In the first days of the stage race, I figured out the hard way that six hundred riders fighting for the first trail made it much more like a short format cross-country race initially. I was focused on trying to find Robert in the sea of others. This approach had me back in the 50s and stuck in an epic traffic jam. There were a couple of crazy crashes on the fast road roll-outs; bodies flying, people dismounting to run over ditches and shouting back in the melee as riders took shortcuts. We could be shuffled from 17th to 47th in an instant on the double track.

After Stage 2, things became a lot smoother. Our reflexes sharpened, plus our endurance kicked in. Our team-based riding strategy fell into place. We got into the top-4, and then found life was easier.

The “Ah, ha!” moment happened during Stage 3. Instead of looking for my teammate during the hectic first minutes of the race, I decided I’d better just get my ass in position for the fight! Later in the stage, we chased down Team Bulls and out-kicked them to the line. Now it was evident we were riding as a team and having a great time. On the back-to-back monster climbs, our combined form was not as high as Kristian and Alban; but with a couple weeks of rest after ABR, I think I will be able to work some good tactics at the upcoming Cape Epic. Most importantly for a back up team, we will be there if trouble hits our leaders; lending a wheel or attending to chase-duty on the road sections.

The other thing special about a stage race is the amount of equipment and logistics involved. The next day’s preparations start the second you finish today’s stage. Proper recovery, fuel and rest are critical. Lucky for us, our soigneurs Torsten and Giovanni, mechanic Peter, and team manager Dirk were on point and on time – so well prepared, they seemed to have telepathy for our needs.

The whole goal for Andalucia Bike Race was learning the ropes of how to ride as a team and get settled in the groove with new gear and such. Now we have bonded over great racing and lots of good, multi-cultural jokes spoken in three languages. This team rhythm will pay dividends in the most important mountain bike race stage race on earth: The Absa Cape Epic.

One thing is for sure: we have a big adventure coming and I am excited to be in attack mode to help Topeak-Ergon defend the win at the Cape Epic.

Africa, here I come!



As I started into the dark, the realization hit home: their departure meant I was left on my mission alone; riding in the dark in a forest area of almost two million acres.

To Be Continued…

— Jeremiah

Keep reading

Click here to read previous entries in The Munga Diary and stay tuned to find out what happens next.



By Jeremiah Bishop

For me, last week was bike mega-week! First, my family hosted our fourth annual Alpine Loop Gran Fondo in our hometown of Harrisonburg, Virginia; then I rode the toughest ride of my life in my self-created “SDS1 Mini Munga;” and then I followed it all up with the 70 mile Iron Cross race in Michaux State Forest!

Editor’s Note: Organizers of The Munga in South Africa announced on Tuesday, October 14, the inaugural event set for December 3-8, 2014 has been postponed until 2015 due to a “key investor withdrawing.” Read more about the Munga race here.

Alpine Loop Gran Fondo

The Alpine Loop Gran Fondo is the event I founded in my hometown on one of my favorite training routes. It benefits Prostate Cancer Awareness Project and local bike advocacy projects. We were treated to perfect autumn weather and blazing fall foliage. This year’s party was without a doubt a notch up! We had Joe Jefferson on the mic, Shenandoah Alley’s high-energy blue grass, beer from New Belgium Brewing, killer eats and even Porsche demo cars.

My fast friends were there, too. Ben King (Garmin Sharp) fresh off a week-long break drove the pace up the first KOM section, but after that the pace was mellow. Joe Dombrowski (Sky) was also in cruise mode and chatting it up. This was a nice contrast to last year’s full stick KOM’s. A couple of guys even found a football at the Franklin, West Virginia, Rest Station and started throwing passes to each other – it was hilarious.

It was reported that a small dance party broke out at the summit of the second KOM near the “inner tube toll booth,” as the Mid-Atlantic Timing guys rocked some music and got people fired up on the microphone. The 14-mile “Dark Side” dirt climb toward Reddish Knob was wicked and rocky as ever, “Almost too much,” as Jay Moglia of Raw Talent Ranch says.

It was a festive ride with hundreds of my friends. I already can’t wait until next year.


Photo by Joe Foley Photography

Night Raid on the SDS1

My not-too-well-thought-out plan commenced just two days after the ‘Fondo. I would attempt the first-ever one-shot expedition of a legendary back-country route called Stokesville-Douthat-Stokesville, a.k.a. “SDS.” In 2009, Chris Scott pioneered this rugged, 156 mile singletrack loop with 23,000 feet of climbing, and now his company, Shenandoah Mountain Touring hosts two, three and four-day expeditions on the route. My goal was to bite it all off in one sitting, and see how well I could survive the test.

My arms were still sore from loading and off-loading event supplies, and now I set them on the task of setting up my war bird with my new Radical Lights, bento box and all sorts of emergency supplies like my transponder and space blanket in case shit hit the fan.

This route is not exactly Munga-prep but a bucket-list, hardcore back-country singletrack route. The trail can be wild and overgrown in spots; most of the time on rugged technical trail. The goal here was to put my body and night riding skills to a 20-hour test and continue my search for a Munga partner.

To best achieve the night riding portion, I had to leave in the afternoon in order to maximize nighttime and tackle my first challenge at sleep deprivation. Eleven and a half hours in the dark? I was not looking forward too it! Millions of acres of George Washington National Forest’s steep mountain ridges, singletrack, dirt roads and some paved roads lay before me.

Robert May and Jessie Kelly, the only other riders to accept my SDS1 challenge, started 90 minutes ahead of me from the Stokesville Lodge. I set off with an escort from Cole Oberman for the first three hours: the chase was on!

I got into a rhythm, pushing hard to try to catch up with my riding partners before dark. I knew I could make up five minutes here and there, since navigation of the first part of the route was on my home turf. There was something thrilling about riding out the golden rays of the evening sun. The ridge-top Shenandoah Mountain Trail was aglow with costume-dressed trees along the fine ribbon of side-benched dirt. The SMT is an IMBA Epic for great reasons!

On one rock garden, I came upon Jessie and Robert. “Hello,” I shouted with a smile. I was shocked to see Kelly turn my way revealing a huge, purple, bleeding black eye and a blank expression. He was walking his bike! Uh oh. He had taken a bad header. He seemed to be relatively ok, though.

We stopped and I gave the guys a lecture that you better make wise choices out here, as it was bound to get cold at night and it can be a deadly place. Jessie was eager to push on. I gave him some Advil. Despite his resolve, we noticed his bike had lost a pivot bolt and his rear tire was rubbing the frame

We dropped the final high-speed section of the SMT carving the turns, descending into a lake of darkness. Late evening light on stained glass yellow, orange and red changing leaves became just a memory. Smoky, grey switchback turns greeted us into the land of darkness as we dropped into the tail end of our second of eight major trails.

We lucked out at the intersection with a dirt road. There was a large hunting camp. Some good ole’ boys helped put a car bolt in Jessie’s bike. Plumber’s crack and southern humor made it a memorable moment. Since Robert was having GPS issues, he decided to take the dirt roads back to Stokesville with Jessie instead of getting lost for days. I waved the guys off like a ship leaving port.

As I started into the dark, the realization hit home: their departure meant I was left on my mission alone; riding in the dark in a forest area of almost two million acres.

To Be Continued…

— Jeremiah

Keep reading

Click here to read previous entries in The Munga Diary and stay tuned to find out what happens next.



The Munga Diary, Chapter 3: Serious Competition


By Jeremiah Bishop

One of the U.S.’s biggest mass-start mountain bike races, The Chequamegon [say “sha-wa-mu-gun”] Fat Tire Festival has taken place in the north woods of Wisconsin for 32 years. It’s been on my bucket list, so I thought I had better tick it off before The Munga! I made a whirlwind trip of it. Coming straight from Las Vegas mid-week, where I’d been for Interbike, the northern lights and serene lakeside setting in Wisconsin was a big contrast from the neon lights I’d just left behind.


The good news is Munga training is going well, this however takes away the snap required for a race like the Chequamegon 40 miler by teaching fast twitch, type 2 muscles to work more like diesel tank pistons. I scored a solid second-place in a sprint finish to mid west rouleur Brian Matter with a ride time of less than 2 hours. It was a fast race—sketchy and fun—with more than 3,000 racers and a party atmosphere.

Brian Matter repeats as Chequamegon 40 champion

A lot of press is coming out about some of the top teams who are entering The Munga, and it looks like some serious competition is mounting. I’m feeling like a colonial American rebel, preparing for the onslaught of the British at Boston. In other words, “Bring that shit!’

Yeah, so what… Olympic gold medalist Sir Bart Brentjins, world class road racer Joroen Boelen; five-time 24-hour Solo World Champion Jason English, and the Canadian freight train Cory Wallace will be tough; and the bike-packing ranger duo of Kurt Refsnider and Jay Petervary might put us all in the sleeper hold. But, no sweat! Right?

But the latest entrants – four-time Cape Epic winner and German tough-man Karl Platt and former world marathon champion Thomas Deitch bring another level of professionalism. Not only are they paid, full-time pros, these guys are on the powerhouse long-distance squad Team Bulls; one of the top teams on earth. Now this is getting interesting. Will The Bulls know how to handle the extreme distance and nighttime component of The Munga? Will Jay P. and Kurt Refsnider be able to handle the speed? Or will they fight over the last bag of Cheetos in the Karroo? Can Wallace and English handle the heat? Or will their million dollar dreams be too much pressure? Brentjins and Boelen will be a big question mark, as super-long is a new challenge for them.

My teammate search is coming along, and I do have some options, but they are unknown entities at the distance and level of The Munga. Perhaps I can team up with a small rhesus monkey: he can ride on my shoulders, feeding me Whoppers and cracking the whip as I churn through the night.

I wish my buddy and former partner at TransAlp and Cape Epic, Chris Eatough of 24-Hour fame, would float down to earth wearing a red cape like Super Man, in peak racing form, leg muscles glistening like tan brown anaconda’s but his current world is filled with full-time work, coaching and kids. He’d need a year of training before he can save the day.

Really though, I have a feeling “The Munga Man” is out there and the only way to find him are a few “Mini Munga’s”: tests of endurance and toughness that I’ve lined up. They are going to be huge adventures in and of themselves. The first will take place in mid-October and the next in November, and I’m really looking forward to these challenges, and the challengers.

I’ll have some very big news to announce shortly, and it could be a Munga game-changer!

Wish me luck and stay tuned!

— Jeremiah

Keep reading

Click here to read previous entries in The Munga Diary.



The Munga Diary, Chapter 2: Racing the Shenandoah 100-plus

File 1 photo 1

Jeremiah Bishop has set his sights on The Munga, a 620-mile, non-stop, two-person team race across South Africa. While the challenge is huge, the prize money is even bigger: a cool $1 million.

We will be running Bishop’s personal diary as he prepares to conquer The Munga. As of yet he has no teammate.

Read the full story

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