Team Kelty-Cabela race diary--February 5
Joy Marr, team coordinator
We are sitting at the finish line at the Wild Sun Resort at the confluence of the Umtamvuna River and the Indian Ocean. The weather is hot and the water is warm. So far we have seen four teams come in. We hear from them the location of our team, and readjust our estimated ETA from 1:30 p.m. to 3:30 p.m. That's okay. George has gone to town and he has the cooler with the champagne in it. We have a bunch of balloons, cold Cokes, fruit salad, and of course, cheese sandwiches.

We pass the time with the other support teams. Talk of next year is rampant. We don't know when or where the '98 Raid will be, but they will tell us tomorrow at the awards dinner. Everyone is full of speculation.

The next team in is Team Stray Dogs (three of the five hadn't met until the airport in Johannesburg!), a U.S. team from mostly the West Coast. They tell us our team is not far behind. At the finish all the U.S. teams wait together for each other. The film crews are here and so is Gerard Fusil; he is impressed with the teams from the U.S., they have really showed well in this race. Look out France!

Now it's Team Kelty-Cabela. As they round the beach Angelika is waving and everyone is all smiles. The pride we feel is overwhelming as we whoop and holler. They cross the finish line and the champagne shower starts! Hugs and kisses all around. Gerard tells Don, "You have a good team, the Americans have done well."

Once the cameras leave, we're left to mill about. Alan lies on the grass to "let these puppies breathe" as he removes his shoes, drinking Cokes and eating sandwiches. Nick is looking for some shade, John and Don are talking with members from the other teams. We spend the next hour unwinding and handing in their compulsory gear--flares and a distress beacon--and wait to greet other teams.

Eventually we start for home, but first a detour to town for burgers and fries, milkshakes and donuts, ice cream cones and Cokes. Mike, Parker, Don, and myself pack into the van for the short ride back to the Umtamvuna River Lodge, and the stories have started already--buying beers from the locals for the long trek through the night, mountain biking from hell, speed-demon Don going faster than good sense should allow, and the stories of the children in the villages singing to them as they passed through. I can't wait to hear them all. On to warm showers and real beds, a dip in the pool, and maybe a cold beer.