Kevin Evans and David George were on top of the world - they graced the covers of magazines, had groupies and were the heroes in An Epic Tale, a goosebump-raising documentary about their crusade to be the first South African team to win the Cape Epic. The Epic, regarded as mountain biking's Tour de France, is a gruelling eight-day race that attracts the world's top cyclists.
The documentary, which followed the run-up to the 2011 Epic, portrayed the pair as the mountain-biking equivalent of Jamaica's 1988 bobsled team. Evans and George were the little team that could. They were rock stars. Evans was a multiple South African mountain-bike champion and George, who had a road-racing pedigree, had represented South Africa at the Olympics. Their 2011 mission to win the Epic ended abruptly when Evans crashed on stage1, breaking his collarbone.
George was at the Cape Town screening of An Epic Tale when it was released in 2012, and answered questions from the audience. It didn't take long for the discussion to turn to doping, a topic that swirls around the sport. George, who had been a teammate of Lance Armstrong's in 1999 and 2000, gave a goofy grin and assured members of the audience that he and Evans said no to Lance Juice.
I nodded happily. I had bought into their dream. I was a fanboy. I had followed their 2011 and 2012 Epic campaigns, cheering them on from the sidelines. They were riding as the Nedbank-sponsored Team 360Life, and finished second after a series of mechanical misfortunes.
"We didn't win the Cape Epic, but with this Cape Epic we won the hearts and support of South Africa," said Evans shortly after they crossed the finish line in 2012. "It's thanks to them that we get up every morning and keep on fighting."RIDING FOR A FALL
I was disappointed for the pair, but convinced that 2013 would be their year.
It was not to be. Six months after the screening of An Epic Tale, Team 360Life unravelled with news that George had tested positive for erythropoietin - a hormone that increases red blood cells, boosting an athlete's oxygen-carrying capacity.
In what may be a first in cycling, George did not try to shift the blame ("My ex-wife sabotaged me"; "I ate contaminated meat"; "Having sex before the test accounted for a testosterone spike"; and, my favourite, "The foreign blood found in my system is because I absorbed my twin in utero", are all actual excuses given). He admitted guilt and was banned from the sport for two years.
But the ban wasn't the only fallout. He got the descriptions "drug cheat" and "disgraced cyclist" tagged onto his name and was flamed in online cycling forums. Nedbank pulled its sponsorship. The Cape Epic drew a line in the sand: from then on any rider caught doping would not be welcome at its race - ever. There would be no second chances for dopers. The little team that could, suddenly couldn't.
George disappeared into the cycling wilderness. Evans, who had expressed shock that his partner had doped, continued racing, but disappointing performances showed his heart wasn't in it. In 2015 he hung up his wheels.
And then on January 18 2016, seven months after Evans had retired from professional cycling, news broke that the South African Institute for Drug-Free Sport had charged him with doping after identifying irregularities in his "biological passport".
According to the World Anti-Doping Agency, the aim of the "passport" is to monitor biological variables over a length of time that will reveal if an athlete has been doping.
Evans did not contest the findings and was handed a four-year ban.
A VICIOUS CYCLE
Doping continues to dog professional cycling. Officials not only monitor cyclists' bodies but also check their bikes for hidden motors. Expectations are so low and cynicism so high that when Asthmagate broke last month - the latest controversy surrounding four-time Tour de France winner and South African homeboy (well, he went to St John's) Chris Froome - no one was surprised.
What is baffling, though, is that it's not just the pros who dope. There are stories of "fun riders" competing in the veterans and masters categories taking performance-enhancing drugs. These Mamils (middle-aged men in Lycra) don't do it for the money (there is none); they don't even do it to win their category. They do it to beat their mates so they can bask in the "glory" of swaggering to their post-ride coffee in package-protruding Lycra.
My reaction to George and Evans's fall from grace was similar to hearing that cricketer Hansie Cronjé was involved in match-fixing - denial, disappointment and anger. I felt betrayed. People I had admired had deceived me. I wasn't the only one. Online cycling forum flaming of Evans followed the news. Evans didn't go into the Wilderness exactly, but nearby - to his hometown, Plettenberg Bay.
In January last year, on the anniversary of the day he received his ban, Evans wrote a post on Facebook saying he had spiralled down a path of self-destruction and despair. "I turned to drugs and alcohol to suppress emotions and feelings and help deal with the s**t I was going through," he wrote, adding that he was now sober.
"I needed to hit where I was going to try to find myself again, and in sobriety I've found more than that. I'll never look at this colourful life of ours through the same eyes again, nor will I ever take all of my blessings for granted again."
Evans's post went viral and was met with an outpouring of sympathy and support.
ON ANOTHER TRACK
Lance Armstrong recently described the past five years of his life since he confessed his sins to Oprah as "hellacious", but he is not a broken man who has been destroyed by drugs, booze or depression.
Outside magazine's most-read story of 2017 was about Armstrong, and whether he was truly sorry for what he did. The story challenged a picture that he is trying to create of himself as a humbled man making amends to deserve the forgiveness of millions of people he betrayed. A friend of his is quoted saying there is nothing meek or humble about Armstrong after his fall from grace.
Armstrong was stripped of his seven Tour de France titles, but one thing that can't be taken away from him is that he inspired countless people to ride bikes - including me. I went for a ride in Plettenberg Bay recently. As I made my way up a hill, a pack of Mamils roared down. One of the riders, grinning from ear to ear, was Evans.
I was curious about how he had crawled his way out of the pit of despair, so I followed the 39-year-old former pro to The Bike Shop in Plett. He owns the shop with his father, Leon, known in mountain-bike circles as Dr Evil for the brutal courses he designs.
The shop bustles with customers of all shapes, colours and sizes drooling over the latest bikes of all shapes, colours and sizes - evidence of cycling's growing popularity. On the walls are reminders of Evans and George's glory days: a framed 360Life cycling jersey and one of those oversized cheques made out to the two of them for a race they won.
Evans says that in October 2015 an e-mail from Cycling South Africa plopped into his inbox informing him there were irregularities with his biological passport. He says he didn't think much of it because he believed the irregularities could be explained by his medical condition.
"I had been on the biological passport since 2010 and this was the first issue I had. The timeline they were disputing was slap-bang in the middle of when I was in and out of hospital."MITIGATING MEDICAL FACTORS
From 2010, Evans had an appendectomy, an emergency tracheotomy, burst abscesses, infections, sepsis, transfusions, ozone therapy, and a stint in ICU.
However, as sports scientist Ross Tucker pointed out at the time, the period Evans was being sanctioned for did not coincide with his medical issues.
Evans says there is an important piece of the puzzle missing and once he has processed what he needs to process (he's still on the early stages of the 12-step recovery journey), there are a few things he would like to say to clear up some of the grey areas. All he will say now is that he believes the authorities went to great lengths "to do me in".
He decided not to dispute it. "I didn't have the time, money or inclination to fight it. I wasn't going to race anymore so I didn't care."
But he did care. After being banned, Evans hit the bottle hard. "I had already retired and I had a great career, but now it was tainted. After I was suspended it seemed that everything had been taken away from me and I thought I may as well party. I stopped riding and I carried on like an idiot. I felt like there was nothing to live for; that my life had fallen apart; that it was all doom and gloom.
"I was drinking and taking sleeping tablets, stimulants, uppers and downers - and I just went deeper and deeper into a pit of enslavement abuse. My marriage was in a mess and I had moved out of the house."
Then a crack of light penetrated the darkness. "One morning after a particularly rough night I woke up and thought: 'Is this really where I want to be?' I realised that if I didn't sort my s**t out I would lose everything. I knew I was on the edge and that I was one drink away from falling off. I had to do something."..