PUFfeR: 80km Ultra Trail Run in Cape Town

Puffer is an acronym of sorts for Peninsula Ultra Fun Run - PUFfeR. This is my experience.

We were sitting on buses and trundling in the darkness towards Cape Point, the rocky promenade that extends south from Cape Town ending in a sharp and precipitous knife-edge that drops into the ocean.. This was where, they say, the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet. I wasn't sure if it was true, but it makes for a good story and  it certainly made me feel like a pioneer as we headed south away from Cape Town.

It was pitch dark and the bus was obviously travelling very slowly. The trip took forever and they kept the lights on the bus so that all the runners could see each other as they babbled and bantered about previous running adventures. I sat quietly on the seat and looked around. Everyone seemed to have lights mounted on their foreheads. I didn't have any surplus kit and I wondered if it would be the first decision I'd regret.

Eventually the bus slowed down and made a u-turn coming to a standstill facing the direction from where we had come. Silence descended as everyone clambered off, and like lost spacemen, people wondered off into the foliage to relieve themselves. Yet more runners were gathering around the public toilets, eerily lit in the weak florescent glow of an old light bulb.

How it happened is unclear, but something prompted the dispersed group of about 120 runners to move northwards in the large parking area to a point where there were two warmly clad men, one of whom produced a gun. I couldn't hear what they were saying and with the first attempt at firing the starters gun .... nothing happened. The group burst into agitated chatter and then the mans arm went up again, the gun fired, and we started to move, running along the tar stretch back to the entrance of the Cape Point Nature Reserve from where we had come.

Quickly the runners spread out and I saw that my lack of headlight was no hindrance. The road was in very good nick and the light from others made an additional headlight redundant. I also hate unnecessary baggage. And so I jogged along in the darkness wondering what pace I should be aiming for. Academic stuff really. I couldn't see my watch. I had no idea of distance. The pace was whatever it was. But it didn't take long for the group to spread and I was soon running on my own in perfect blackness with a faint glow appearing to our left ahead of the rising sun.

After leaving the Nature Reserve the PUFfeR stays on tar for about another 20 kays which means that many serious trail runners are somewhat disparaging about this event. But I knew what was coming later. I knew the terrain over Constantiaberg and Table Mountain because I had run a lot on these mountains many years earlier when I lived in Cape Town. And so the tar didn't bother me. I was satisfied that we were really doing a mountain run. The tar portion was a warm up and quite a hard one too, climbing for a few kilometers over Redhill near Simonstown. By this stage I was starting to get a little worried because so many runners were moving faster than I was and I had no idea how to calculate a pacing plan. Being so far behind where I thought I should be left me feeling despondent.

At about 25 kays the route suddenly veered off to the left onto a single track pathway on soft sand through the famous Cape fynbos (indigenous Cape flora). This was it! Here it was! I was very excited. The thick smell of the fynbos hanging in the damp air, and the crunchy sand underfoot was so reminiscent of what I had loved years earlier. It was like entering an earthbound tangible "heaven". I was so comfortable. My soul, in out-of-body levitation, I felt light and strong. While overhead the clouds hung low and the sunlight failed to break through. The temperature was low enough to wear a long-sleeved top but I stuck to a t-shirt.

After some more path-finding through the fynbos we eventually headed around the back of Fish Hoek on some large tar roads and some busy Saturday junctions. This was another reason that some trail junkies turned their noses up at the PUFfeR but for me it just added to the texture and ambience of the run. Exiting Fish Hoek I found my mate Trevor, standing starkly upright alongside the road. I looked forward to him joining me for the remainder of the run as a second. Who knows what the distance was, but I think it was close to 40 kays which meant about 40 kays to go. So we still had quite a lot ahead of us, in fact, quite a lot of hard stuff.

Soon we reached a large refreshment station and I tanked up on Rehydrate, a big chelsea bun and some water from the welcoming helpers. Leaving this water point we slowly worked our way through the Silvermine Reserve and I managed to unleash such a constant torrent of verbosity that I missed most of the surrounds. Trevor generally is a very taciturn fellow, but on this day he was beyond loquacious as was I. We chatted incessantly like a pair of old ladies (is that politically incorrect?).

I do recall some very steep rocky inclines and some sandy sections and I recall that we lost our way at one point. Eventually seeing a few runners in the thick fynbos away to our left, we were able to head in the direction required. My earlier euphoria at entering the fynbos was not enduring. The Cape had had so much rain that most of the local vegetation now stood at anywhere from 6 foot to 10 foot tall, which meant that it was often impossible to get one's bearings. You just couldn't see beyond the path!

After leaving the Cape Point Nature Reserve a lot of runners had  passed me. I hadn't panicked but I had entered a mild state of dejection and fear of being left behind especially on some of the long uphills. But now in Silvermine, about 50 kays from the start, things were starting to change. I wasn't getting "dropped", and on some of the ascents I was actually gaining ground. This dear reader, is very motivating.

It wasn't long, after ascending quite a way up Canstantiaberg that the route made a steep and long descent to connect with a contour path which would eventually lead to another mountain (Vlakkenberg) and yet further on, to Constantia Neck at the back of Table Mountain. There was still so much to do! But I was getting inspired. I knew that I could get "downhill" fairly quickly and by this I mean down mountain paths. And the steeper, rockier, the better. With the tar behind us and the terrain becoming a little more technical I had a better chance! So I decided to start moving with a bit more conviction and managed to catch up with a few runners up ahead. I didn't want to push too much but felt good knowing that I could still cover ground fairly quickly, if needed.

Constantiaberg with the cave on the right known as Elephants Eye

On our way to the Vlakkenberg Trevor starting dropping behind and I knew I couldn't wait for him. I felt certain that something had happened to cause his loss of pace. It turned out later he had been sick since the previous day but did not want to let me down on "race" day. He should have been in bed! So, a fine guy all round!

Looking back up Vlakkenberg - Dutch for flat mountain

After Vlakkenberg came the Constantia Neck refreshment station. Again I took in more Rehydrate and chelsea buns. I dilly-dallied for a while, chatting and messing around, giving up about 15 minutes, and then headed up the very steep path that leads to the back of Table Mountain, otherwise known as the Back Table.

The pictures are from 2 years that I ran the PUFfeR. The second time in sandals. Here, approaching the Constantia Neck waterpoint.

This was it. This was my territory. I kept talking to myself. I stopped worrying about cramps and any other inconvenience. I wanted to move. Where were the other runners? I searched ahead but could only make out one shape in front. Dammit! Keep moving I said. Just MOVE. I wanted that person. I wanted to catch up? Move, move, move! We were about 20 kays from the finish and the best bits lay ahead. We had moved higher and the fynbos was shorter. Nothing more than 2 feet. It was all short grassy scrub and a lot of course, crystalline sandstone. I loved it.

At every point possible, I would break into a quick jog. And then more clambering. Rocks, gullies, ditches, water, steps.

Run, sidestep, lunge, clamber, run. Move, move, move. Great! And the human shape ahead drew closer and as he came into focus I saw it was Paul who had been running with Trevor and I on Constantiaberg. Darn! I should never have spent so much time at the Neck. I greeted him and moved on. The top of Table Mountain was still about 250 meters higher and possibly about 1 or 2 kilometers ahead. Now I could see many other runners. Little groups of 3 or 4. Go go go.

On the way to Maclears Beacon at the summit of Table Mountain I managed to pass 26 runners. I counted. I loved it. At the summit there was another checkpoint and refreshment station. I hardly stopped. I gulped down a bit of water and kept moving. The top of Table Mountain is indeed a beautiful place. Very flat and quite eerie in it's own way. It's big too. Getting from one side to the other can take a long time. Someone once told me it's 4 kilometers wide. Who cares. I was moving and feeling good despite the occasional cramping twinges in my legs.

Looking down Platteklip Gorge from the top of Table Mountain

The day was still sublime, with low clouds, no wind and a soft light casting a surreal glow. It felt as though I was living in a movie scene. But the ethereal peace and abeyance of pain is over when you get to the start of Platteklip Gorge, the perilous knee pounding, rock strewn route down the front of Table Mountain. Platteklip Gorge is ridiculous. They call them steps but the rocks, re-positioned on the handmade pathway, are a jagged, contorted mess of careless geography.

Platteklip Gorge descends diagonally down the front of Table Mountain starting about 2 thirds of the distance from the summit on the far left to the Cable Station on the far right

In 2015 during my second running of this event I happened to be around when a runner had had an accident and needed to be airlifted out of Platteklip Gorge. We had to wait for the evacuation.

A runner rescue after an accident in Platteklip Gorge 2015

The view to the finish near the harbour from Table Mountain

To get down Platteklip Gorge you have to employ, in random succession, a series of lunges, plunges, leaps, bounces and hurdles. At every point you feel you are a hairs breadth from diving head first into a pile of capriciously strewn boulders. And some do. But I loved it. This was downhill. I rushed ahead with relentless abandon.

Coming after the Platteklip descent are a few busy roads and a dismal pathway down the side of Signal Hill which again ensured a route finding mishap. I just couldn't run on ahead because I didn't know the way and when others caught up with me, they too either didn't know the way or were so stricken with cramps that we had keep stopping for a thigh or calf massage. But I got to the finish, at the oceans edge next to the Cape Town harbour, quite delirious and fortunately, quite bouncy.

My parents had visited to support on both times I ran this event

The PUFfeR is a splendid run. Quite exceptional in fact. As youngsters Trevor and I had made a "sport" of running up and down Table Mountain. We did it for fun when none had even thought of running on a mountain and trail running, as a concept, had yet to be invented. (At the time there were indeed a few runners in Scotland and Wales who had started "fell" running.)

So, getting back to Table Mountain after years of absence was superb and finishing second in the masters group simply felt good. But then ... it's not a race.

You can make contact with the organisers (Fish Hoek Athletic Club) here: www.facebook.com/PufferTrailRun/
or  www.fishhoekac.com/services/the-puffer