France, 1996.

Triathlon heaven, those years. I was the youngest of a handful of South Africans racing for a village called Cahors. Every weekend we’d travel to races, chasing money, glory and adventure.

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When the going gets tough, the tough gets off and takes pictures!

Getting there aint easy. 4×4, dirt bike, mountain bike. Whatever it takes!

This puppy can bark. Honda 450 CRF X.

Always keen to support my meager triathlon income with some cash, I’m trying my hand at growing instant lawn. The field has been fallow for about 6 years (since my dad tried Protea flower farming) so the plowing was quite tough. Had to cut some smallish thorn tress down, roll rocks away and tried to get rid of all the Sickle Thorns. You’ll notice I write Sickle Thorns with capitals, as They deserve a lot of respect. They go through a tractor tire like a knife through butter. I’m almost done preparing the field now, and am on my 2nd front tire so far. As you can imagine, changing a tractor tire is not nearly as quick and easy as a bike tire…

This is how I fly. Getting to the field (where the tractor sleeps) is a 25minute race pace mountain bike ride away. (45min by tractor) Getting home is where the plow backs up as a bike rack. Its about as close as I get to training…