A spoon of cement with your Namakwaland ... all done and dusted!

This is my first ever ride report. I have tried before but am a real "luigat" when it comes down to this stuff and have therefore never bothered to actually write one until now.Thanks to Kamanya for kicking my arse and making me do this – I am actually enjoying putting it all down.

The title comes from Kamanya - he is always telling me to take a spoon of cement and HTFU (Harden The ^&*% Up!) - what a nice guy hey ? what you could call a real motivator!

Part 1 - The Beginning

On Thursday 17 March a “buitelander”  John Travolta from Pulp Fiction look-alike (aka Erman Balkin from Istanbul, Turkey) arrives at my workshop and asks me to fix the exhaust on his Dakar. He tells me in seriously kak broken English that he is a professional freelance translator of mainly news web pages from English to Turkish and his job allows him to literally work from anywhere in the world. He came to RSA for 2 weeks to see the place and ride some bikes – it is over 6 months later and he is still here. He also tells me he loves Facebook and tries to show me hundreds of kak boring pics and lots of HD videos of him and his mates riding some kief I mean kak boneys on some seriously twisty roads in the Italian Dolomites and the Swiss Alps – yawn.  After watching 3 hours of his videos and forcing me to look at almost 2000 photos I tell him I am lank busy and he must duck. I think to myself "Jislaaik – I must make a plan to get to Europe on a bike."

3 days later he is sitting in my mirror – Kneelo, Travolta and I are on our way to Namakwaland

We meet at the local garage on Monday 21 March – it is very awkward – I don’t really know Kneelo and I sure don’t know Travolta – many “what ifs” are running through my head – I am about to spend a week with 2 strangers on bikes in some rough shit …

We pose for the obligatory pre-trip pic


Travolta on left, me in the middle and Kneelo on the right

We hit the road and head for the N7 – today will be a slog on the tar all the way to Springbok – 600 odd kays of mind numbing but therapeutic riding. Elton John’s “Rocket Man” plays over and over in my head – my all time favourite helmet song

Within 90 odd minutes we stop to fill up and grab a quick bite at Piketberg Spur



The time and the towns whizz by – Citrusdal, Clanwilliam, Klawer, Garies and then we’re there – in front of us lies the sprawling metropolis of Springbok. It is 4 pm and we make our way to Springbok Lodge where Oom Jopie gives us the keys to our own house and mutters something about “vokken bikers”

We unpack, undress, put on our Sunday best and immediately hit the streets on foot to check out the action – there is none – it is 5 pm on a public holiday Monday afternoon in Springbok – dunno what the %^$& we expected ?

We are soon sitting in Oom Jopie’s dining room drinking ice-cold beers and smashing some chow in our faces. We retire to our lodgings and are all fast asleep by 8 pm – tomorrow is a big day.

Tuesday dawns – and very early in Springbok I might add. We are all up before 6 am. I am keen to get going ASAP to avoid the heat but Travolta and Kneelo are in no rush. After a slow brekkie at Oom Jopie’s spot we are ready to go – Namakwaland awaits



Travolta bids a sad farewell to his Namakwa Daisy and promises to come back for her …



We ride 50 odd km up the N7 to Steinkopf where we stop to fill up – this will be the last fuel before we reach Pofadder – only 160 km as the crow flies but our route will be almost double that – through rocks and thick soft sand. I expect the bikes to be thirsty. I was here last year with Kamanya and his bike gobbled up 50l and was empty by the time we hit Pella. I am also on a KTM 950 and only have half the fuel to do the same distance … gulp!



My SE holds 14 litres and I am carrying 2 X 5l jerry cans – I hope this will be enough. I am highly allergic to pushing bikes. Kneelo and Travolta both have fancy fuel bladders with them. Kneelo fills his and the petrol pisses straight out – the canvas has come away from the filler neck – I smile and pretend all is OK but am silently cursing – I think about the 7 P’s – Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance – this bladder should have been checked in Cape Town – those lost 7 litres of fuel could make all the difference …

On the forecourt we spot the Easter bunny and his mates – the pompjoggie informs me these are not pets – they are for the pot. Africa is not for sissies.



All bikes filled and our bladders emptied – we roll out and continue north – I am very nervous – what ifs are flying through my head

After another 30 odd km (we are now only about 30 km from the RSA/NAM order) we turn right off the N7 and hit the dirt for the first time – it is 10h30 on Tues 22 March – the mercury is already sitting at 35 deg C.

Travolta takes this pic – note how clean the bike is and what a beautiful fancy screen it has – bought from Topbox only 3 days ago



Tyres are deflated to 1.5 bar front and back – we have been running them hard on the tar and it is time to let some sky out of our rounds – the sand literally starts straight away – I can see it not more than 50m away

This is my favourite riding area – I have ridden about 50 000 km on many different bikes in the last few years through Southern Africa – NAM, Lesotho, MOZ, Baviaans, E Tvl, N Tvl, Drakensberg, Southern Cape, Northern Cape, Karoo, Cederberg been there ridden that – for me nothing comes close to Namakwaland – I truly feel alive here – to me this is Africa at its best – cruel yet kind, ugly yet beautiful, harsh but fair.

A Kokerboom looks over my KTM



We have been riding on the dirt for an hour – the bikes are tired so the cowboys stop to let the horses rest



I have a very vague idea of where we’re going and all I know is that the closer we get to the mountains and the Orange River the rougher the riding gets – I am leading the ride and purposely choose every little goat track I can find – I want to see the Orange River – I want to show off its majesty to Travolta my Turkish friend. He is not looking so good – I know his Dakar is a pig in the sand – crap suspension and very top heavy not to mention the big DSLR camera, tripod and laptop he is carrying under his full fuel bladder – he is feeling every bump and probably wondering how the liquid crystals are running out of his flat screen. Kneelo is like the tortoise – sure and steady (but not as slow) and always there on his orange X Challenge – he is very quiet – I think he is scared of me. I am loving my new SE – it really is the best dirt bike I have had out of the 23 bikes that I have owned in the last 4 years. I am so glad I got rid of that 990 S – my short legs would never be able to hold that beast up in this stuff.

Time flies when you’re having fun. We ride down a beautiful valley blindly following my GPS – thick riverbed sand sucks at our wheels and sharp rocks bite at our tyres and leave teeth marks in our bashplates. The bikes are lightly packed, except for Travolta’s, but still the luggage bounces up and down, especially my extra fuel on the back, and must be regularly checked and straps re-fastened.

We get to the end of the valley and stare upwards at a steep climb that looks like it goes over the mountain and heads towards the river – we must go there.

Travolta leads the way and very soon decides to lie down and rest.







Shortly followed by me



Kneelo makes it past both of us but then runs off line and gets stuck in a rut



I’m a bit concerned – I don’t think Travolta and Kneelo are digging this so much – I don’t think they like me – I feel like Captain William Bligh on the Bounty right before the shit hit the fan.

We gather ourselves and pick up the bikes. Travolta takes this shot as Kneelo points from whence we just came. The pics never show how steep it really is.


We manage to get going again and carefully cajole our bikes to the top of this pass.

We are greeted by this sight.





I nearly wet my pants I am so excited. The Road to Hell. We have literally stumbled upon the holy grail of extreme DS biking. I have heard about this road but always secretly doubted its existence. I feel like a spotty teenager who has got hold of his first porno mag.

We all pose next to “The Rock”





It is now 2 pm. its bliksem hot, the bikes are exhausted and we are feeling a little tired. I make a mental note to bring a fitter bike next time. We are running out of water fast. Kneelo is very quiet – I am getting very worried about him. He is a vris and fit oke. I imagine him moering me over the head with a rock ala Lord of the Flies. I persuade Travolta and Kneelo that we must go down this road because the river is “just around the corner” and I tell them that there is a famous pub down there that sells ice cold beers – they fall for it and off we ride – I am in front.

2 minutes later I put my hand up and we stop.


This road is bliksems steep. There are a moerse lot of rocks here. I am kakking myself.



I call an urgent board meeting and confess I lied about the pub and the ice-cold beers. I cannot guarantee that once we reach the river we can ride along it and fear that we may have to ride out this way again. It is late, the bikes are tired, our water is running out and Travolta has not been able to update his Facebook status since we left Springbok.

We help each other to turn the bikes around – this takes 30 min of sweating and groaning – these bikes are really moeg by now.





I remember to mark the waypoint in my GPS – I am definitely coming back here!

Part 2 and 4 more days to follow ...

:drif:

Very nice RR. :thumleft: :thumleft: Thanks for sharing it.

Powerflow Justin said:

This is my first ever ride report. I have tried before but am a real luigat when it comes down to it and have never bothered to write one before. Thanks to Kamanya for kicking my arse and making me do this – I am actually enjoying putting it all down.
...

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This is good! Thanks Kamanya 

Don't stop Powerflow Justin!

Subscribe.

Part 2

We make it out safely and re-trace our tyre tracks all the way to the top of the valley. It has taken us 3 hours to ride in and out of this valley, effectively we have gone nowhere but what a great waste of time and what a brilliant find!

Soon we have to stop – Travolta’s bike is overheating and shedding weight faster than a chubby kid at fat camp.



Where is the new fancy screen? Where are the mirrors and front indicators? Notice the elegantly packed rear end – this is a Turkish taxi, very similar to a Transkei Taxi but brimming with fragile high end electronic equipment – in the middle of Namakwaland!

The overheating is a big concern. I know Dakars pretty well and start looking in the obvious places – fuses OK, water level in radiator and reservoir OK, no leaks from water pump housing and no split hoses. Nothing. Then I see it – the diagnostics plug has come loose and jammed the fan blade stuck – I pull it out and cable tie it out of harms way. Luckily for us the fan is still working – their little motors can burn out quickly and this would have meant huge kak in this heat. Travolta’s Dakar is quickly re-assembled and we are off again – it is almost 5 pm – we have been out here for a long time and need to make camp soon. I do not smaak to ride at night.

The plan was to rough camp at a beautiful little clearing next to the river that Kamanya showed me last year. My GPS says it is only 30 km away – but it is 30 km of serious rocks and sand ala Montague National Enduro style. That could take 5 – 6 hours on these bikes. I call another board meeting. The awesome thing about this area is that there are plenty of escape routes just ride away from the mountains and you will hit the “main drag” a wide secondary sand road that runs all the way to Pella. We head for the highway but we must first ride some gnarly stuff to get there.







This is the same road that Michnus and Metaljockey kakked off on – see their ride report “Onseepkans – do you know this place?”

Kneelo decides to make like the Pope and kiss the ground but is back on the pegs in a flash, hoping we did not see his dismount. I can see in his eyes he is now woes and getting gatvol of this. I double check to make sure he is not hiding a rock on his person.

A few minutes later we are on the main drag skieting along quite merrily when my SE runs out of gas. We pull over and I refill the main tank – my jerries are now empty. I have no idea how far Pofadder and petrol is from here.


We continue east and quickly arrive at Goodhouse – the river is still high and the little road next to it is completely under water. We will have to backtrack again – it is now five to six – even the cowboys are moeg and hungry – I quickly look for rocks and even check Travolta is not hiding anything.

The Orange River at the Goodhouse Pompstasie




We ride back and turn left at the fork as directed. I am now also gatvol and cannot stop thinking about my skull cracking like an eggshell under Kneelo’s rock. I twist the cable and set my new dirt top speed record.



The ETA is 12:34 pm at Pofadder – this is based on the average speed we have been riding all day and the distance we still have to cover. We have done just over 60 km as the crow flies the whole day!

Klein Pella Guest House (part of the Karstens Boerdery) throws open its arms to us – it is 18h25 – not a moment too soon. I stop to wait for Kneelo and Travolta and casually pretend this was my plan all along. Kneelo looks around for a rock.



10 minutes later we are checked in, undressed and in the pool with ice-cold beers in hand. I keep my distance from Kneelo but he calls me over for a photo – he is cool – I breathe a huge sigh of relief but keep my eyes open for rocks. This is one seriously gay photo – look ma no hands!





The fire is lit and we sit back to talk kak while we wait for coals. The meat is cooked and 3 hungry cowboys wolf down their chow like hungry Chatsworth Charras at Sanjeev's “all you can eat” curry night.





After dinner we sit next to the pool and bounce a zol under a full Namakwa moon. Kneelo disappears silently – I get paranoid – where is he ? Has he gone to fetch a rock ? Is this the end for one of us ? I dig deep into my bioscope memory bank and start practising the one legged flying leap kick Daniel-son pulled on that oke in the final scene of Karate Kid 1 – Kneelo beter pasop. Travolta tells me Kneelo has gone to answer nature’s call and is sending a fax to Mugabe. Chicken.

We are all kipping in one tin rondavel with 2 double bunk beds. Magies vol ogies toe. Sleep hits us faster than a rock to the head.

Wednesday dawns. We are up early. I take a swim. Kneelo locks for rocks. Travolta logs on to Vleisbroek. He updates his status telling the world “I thought I was going on a tour but this is more like a rally – I will call it a Rally Tour – if you don’t hear from me every 3 hours send the Ottomans with big knives – leave the rocks behind – there are plenty here!”.

There is a fully equipped workshop on this farm. We use their stuff to carry out some repairs – straightening bars in their clamps on the X Challenge and the SE while Travolta replaces a good few missing / lost nuts & bolts and starts to dump unnecessary parts – his previously pristine concourse winning Dakar is looking quite second hand by now.

Before the Rally Tour



The workshop at Klein Pella



and after



We pack up, settle up and hit the road. It’s about an hour to Pofadder from here on the main drag.

I pull over at an interesting farm sign to wait for Kneelo and Travolta. They soon join me.


Anybody know what this car is, where it was made and how old it is?

The badge on the bootlid.


We hit Pofadder – don’t blink cos you will miss it. We fill up and make our getaway – I decide to take the boys to Augrabies Falls for lunch.

This must be the narrowest part of the Orange River. The falls are huge.


There is massive damage from the recent floods.


We sit down to lunch. Kneelo fires up his rusty old Nokia at the table and quickly does a few billion dollars worth of business on the sub-continent – he is in “Import / Export” – all sounds very dodgy to me but I listen in awe at his skills. Travolta pulls out his ekFoon to check if the Ottomans have left a message and to update his Vleisbroek status. We eat well and smoke half a pack of fags while Kneelo funds a revolution in Central Africa from his cellphone.

After lunch we swim in the pool in our gear to cool off – life is good – I don’t really want to get back on the bike in a hurry.

Our next destination is Kenhardt. We ride to Kakamas where we fill up again. Travolta tells us his back brake is not working lekker. On closer inspection I see that the brake calliper piston has melted into the pad – there is no meat left on the pad – the brake disc has more scratches than an overplayed Nylon Itchy LP. In short the brake is ISP (in sy p*&^). Travolta has obviously been resting his tap dancing shoe on the brake pedal for the last few days. We are shown to a bike shop in Kakamas, filled with broken bikes and a scruffy laaitie setting valve clearances on a CBFlex. “Jammer Oom maar ons het nie brieke vir sulke fancy bikes nie.” I use 2 super dik cable ties to tie the brake pedal to the front crash bars – there is now no way Travolta can tap again. The Dakar has front brakes only from here on – we are halfway on our Rally Tour.

To be continued …

Very nice! I love your writing.  You are making me incredibly jealous.

Shheeeit! I should have started kicking your arse years ago!

Skryf aan Willem Wikklespies

Cool and lekker RR so far.

:thumleft:

Lekker RR ................ :thumleft:

Lekker een Justin, good call, there's a Witgat melkboom in the valley below the Road to Hell where we usally camp on 4x4 roundtrips, and that was a good call to turn back, Went down ther with Cruiser with front & Rear lockers and it still battled, and believe me the rivier is moerse vêr from there, esspecially on a bike. There's a copper mine down there and they used to ride that road with 1500 Mazda bakkies... long-long time ago, I want to go with next time :deal:

I think that car was called a Goliath. There were a lot of them around in the fifties when I was a kid

Leke Leke, nou is jaloers en my gat jeuk om n lyn te sny.  :thumleft:

Lekka RR, looking forward to the rest of it  :thumleft:

columbus said:

I think that car was called a Goliath. There were a lot of them around in the fifties when I was a kid

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Probably, but a little before my time..

Lekker RR! :thumleft:

hilaris boet, nice rept.

I make a mental note to bring a fitter bike next time.

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:biggrin: awesome  :thumleft:

Awesome!  :thumleft:

very very well written, ek lag nou lekker!!