Heart-stopping adventures and close calls from around the world while pushing the limits of endurance

27 Sep 2024

Ryan Sandes’ new book Run. Risk. Reward. is packed with adventure, humour and some fascinating insights into the psyche of an ultra-endurance athlete. These people are not like you and me…

Forty-two-year-old Ryan Sandes is a local and international trail-running sensation. Among his many accomplishments, he was the first person to win all four races in the 4 Desert Series, and in 2013 became the first person to ever win an ultra-trail race on all seven continents.

Sandes has also won two of the world’s most prestigious 100-miler trail races: in 2011, the Leadville Trail 100 in Colorado, and in 2017, the Western States 100 on the Sierra Nevada trails in California.

As a follow-up to his hugely popular 2016 autobiography Trail Blazer, Sandes’ new book Run. Risk. Reward. explores the gripping and often life-threatening adventures this extraordinary ultra-trail runner has experienced around the globe since then. Not only have these projects tested the very edge of human endurance, but on several occasions, he literally had to run for his life.

Along with a 1,500-kilometre Himalayan adventure, read about his attempt at completing the first 700km solo run up Namibia’s legendary Skeleton Coast – only to stumble upon some very angry Namibian soldiers conducting controversial seal clubbing. And, with his running partner Ryno Griesel, becoming the first people to run the entire circumference of Lesotho in one go, during which they find themselves fighting off an attack from local herdsmen armed with rocks and knobkerries. Read the excerpt.

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Eventually Wiesman, along with his helper Sampie and his mates Fritz and Molefe, arrived on their horses to accompany us to Qacha’s Nek. They’d also brought along an extra horse just in case it was required. Our posse on horseback now set off ahead of us, and I was very grateful for the security they provided. However, going back to Ryno’s initial concern, they did also slow us down a lot.

This was muddy terrain, and one of the horses almost immediately lost a shoe, causing us further delay. The slow-moving horses also disrupted our rhythm, so Ryno and I decided to keep running at our own pace. On the descents, the horses were quite a bit slower than us, but on the flat sections they were able to pass us again. The weather cleared a little, and even though it was getting dark, we kept moving, always on a mission to cover as much ground as possible.

Read in Daily Maverick: ‘We could die up here’ – Riding the Lesotho Highlands

I could sense that Wiesman was getting concerned about going on for too long in the dark, so we started looking for a suitable place to camp. We eventually spotted a small stone kraal with a thatched roof where the horses could shelter. We waited around for an hour to see if we could spot a herdsman and ask permission to stay there, but no one appeared. It was getting late and cold and had started to drizzle, so we pitched our lightweight tent, made some food on the small gas cookers and climbed into our sleeping bags. Then, all hell broke loose…

Just as I was drifting off, which must have been around 11pm, I was jolted awake by screaming and shouting and what felt like a huge rock landing on our tent. In that fuzzy half-awake/half-asleep state, you can imagine how confusing and scary that is. To add insult to injury, Ryno and I were bundled up in our sleeping bags in a tiny one-man tent, which meant we were unable to defend ourselves.

As more and more rocks started raining down on us, I shouted at Ryno to wake up – somehow, he was managing to sleep through it all. We crawled out of the tent and into the freezing blackness. Rocks were still flying past us and, taking shelter behind a low kraal wall, I could hear Wiesman and his crew shouting and screaming higher up. As more rocks flew around, we heard what sounded like someone getting hit with a big stick. Seriously, you could not make this stuff up. Had I unknowingly angered the trail gods to such a degree that something completely crazy would happen on every project I undertook?

Gradually, the commotion began to die down, but I could still hear Wiesman shouting in Sesotho, though less aggressively now. Ryno and I poked our heads out above the wall and slowly made our way up the hill, where we came upon Wiesman and his crew facing up to eight young herdsmen. I don’t understand Sesotho, but you can pretty much understand, “What the hell are you idiots doing?” in any language.

Eventually, the herdsmen started apologising, and one little guy was even crying. It turned out that the two herdsmen who lived next to the kraal where we were camping saw us arriving in the distance. They thought we were cattle rustlers coming to steal their livestock and had conveyed the information to their mates in the next valley, who, in turn, had passed the message further on. Apparently, stock theft was common in the area and these youngsters thought we were rustlers and had tried to ambush us. They had not counted on Wiesman, though. Our lead horseman was not a small guy, and you definitely wanted him on your side in any battle. He had picked up a stick and fought back.

After the situation calmed down, apologies were exchanged all round. Wiesman handled it unbelievably well – I mean, this had been a real fight. He had massive bruises on his shoulders from the rocks, and his leg, which had been hit by a knobkerrie, was swelling up. I am making an assumption here, but I think if Wiesman had not fought back, we would have been in serious trouble.

Eventually, we all returned to our tents, though Wiesman had to share his mate’s tent that night, as his was covered in holes. Sampie slept in the kraal with the herdsmen. Bizarrely, 20 minutes after these people were trying to kill us, they were helping us.

Read in Daily Maverick: Lesotho – journey to the Kingdom in the Sky

You hear horror stories of hikers being stoned and robbed in the Drakensberg, and some have even been killed, so this had always been a small concern in the back of my mind. In this instance, though, I really believed that the youngsters had mistaken us for rustlers and were trying to protect their community’s property.

The next morning, I could see how genuinely sorry they were – they even helped us pack up. One of the herdsmen offered to jump on the spare horse and guide us along the best route to our next stop, at Ongeluksnek. First, though, we had to find the horses. All but one had bolted during the commotion the night before. Fortunately, they were not too far away, chilling out in the next little valley.

All of this was another lesson for me. I am usually pretty black and white about things, and if you cross me or my family in any way, I never want to see you again. But speaking to these young herdsmen taught me to be more understanding of and empathetic to people’s circumstances. They explained that the cattle belonged to a local chief. The herdsmen did not get paid to look after the livestock, but instead were given an animal each month if none were lost to predators or thieves. And because this was such a high-theft area, these guys had not received an animal in months.

I was only able to process this information later on, and for the rest of the night, Ryno and I just lay there, feeling rattled. Despite all the measures we’d put in place and the assurances I’d given my family, here I was, once again in a situation that could have resulted in my death. I’d promised myself that if our lives were ever in danger, I would pull the plug on the project. That night, I was ready to call it quits. DM

Run. Risk. Reward. by Ryan Sandes with Steve Smith is published by Penguin Random House SA (R320). Visit The Reading List for South African book news, daily – including excerpts!

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