- Joined
- Jan 24, 2006
- Messages
- 5,166
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- 352
- Location
- Brakpan, South Africa
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS HP2
Group Photo - Die Kwaad moet Uit!!
I assume most of us have a bucket list or at least a short list of places we would like to ride and things we would like to see. The doodsakker sprung onto my list about 9 years ago when I read Metaljockeys report of their trip through the doodsakker, while the Van Zyl’s pass had always been there since I read about it as a young lad. Ideally I wanted to do the trip with the HP2, but it’s limited fuel range was a definite obstacle if one bears in mind that from Tombua to Ruacana was 680 km’s without any fuel stations. I. spend many hours trying to arrive at a plan to overcome this obstacle, first I built some panniers racks which could carry extra fuel, tested them to the Green Kalahari gathering in Riemvasmaak about 4 years ago, but I came short by some 80km’s with no extra safety fuel so it was back to the drawing board. Then I bought a R80G/S which was rebuilt and fitted with a 43 liter fuel tank, proper suspension and most bells and whistles but due to it’s heavy consumption it was also disqualified. Then one night at a function in 2015 my boss and I got speaking about bikes and bike trips and I happened to mention the doodsakker which was still on my to do list. As it turned out, he also had that section on his To do list and immediately offered himself and his Land Cruiser to my disposal.
Now I am the first to oppose any form of backup vehicle when on a bike trip, but suddenly my goal seemed achievable although it meant having to **** my conscience a little bit by using vehicles. So the planning started in all earnest and soon the trip was becoming more and more of a reality. We had to have a second backup vehicle as a few bikes would not move a Land Cruiser stuck in deep sand, so Johan generously offered the services of his Fortuner, already kitted for extreme trips. We were going to be 5 bikes, 4 x HP2’s and a R800GS plus the Land Cruiser and the Fortuner. This grew to 6 bikes after we ran into Mark, an Aussie, while in Mozambique sometime in 2015 and he heard about our plans. He was on a KLR650 ’05 model.
So here, July 2016, I was finding myself on a stretch of road that resembles something like tennisbal alley at De Wildt, except we had already done 250 km’s of this and there were many more to come. How much punishment can a tire take, how many times can a shock move up and down before something gave in to the torture. We were somewhere between Iona Park and Ruacana and according to my GPS we had about another 100 or so km’s to go. When you ride for an hour, check the progress and notice that you only covered 18 km’s in the last hour, one has to dig deep to find the resources to continue. The only break was offered by the fuel stop or waiting for the vehicles to catch up which we maximized to every 2 hours. There was no sense in us racing ahead with the backup a day behind.
I could ride these type of tracks for days on end :thumleft:
Of course, as is customary I am getting carried away by the section or incident that made the biggest impression, so let me get back to the beginning. My research on the inter web gave me spring tide in the doodsakker at 09:32 on 20 July 2016. It was winter, not to hot so that formed the basis of all my planning. To be there at that time I had to sleep at the entrance the night before, had to sleep at Flamingo Lodge on the eve of 18 July, etc., etc. till I got to the conclusion that I had to leave Gauteng on 12 July. The Brandberg Rest Camp in Uis was identified as our home base, so we would trailer our bikes to Uis, kit up and ride to Ruacana where we would meet up with a few guys who were going to fly in.
We left Gauteng around midday on 12 July and found ourselves at the Phuduhudu Lodge just outside Lobatsi around 7pm but not before collection the traditional speeding fine for not sticking to the 60km/h speed limit for those long sections before Lobatsi - farkers. Anyhow, our trip was underway and a #$%^& speeding fine was not going to dampen my spirit. As is tradition with everybody I have ever riding with, we went for our “first night” with all guns blazing. The next morning the area was white with frost and we were reminded why it is wise to invest in a quality sleeping bag when camping - par of the course. With frozen fingers we packed and left for Namibia. Anyone who has travelled this road will know that it’s long and boring and after a few hours it really becomes long and boring. About 3 km’s before Jwaneng there is a bumpy section to keep those towing a trailer awake and focused, but for the rest it’s pure torture km upon km. As the day passed the km’s ticked over and by late afternoon we were admiring the various species grazing by the roadside on the section between the Hosea Kutako airport and Windhoek – isn’t Namibia an awesome place? Warthog and Kudu were grazing less than 3 meters off the tarmac and one had to proceed with caution as there is no way of predicting which way the animal would jump should someone or something startle it. We booked in at the Arubush campsite in Windhoek and after a nice shower we headed for Joe’s Beer House. Well what happens at Joe’s Beer House stays at Joe’s but all I can say is fun was had by all. I had half an Eisbein to deal with the next day – I kid you not, I could not finish the mother of an Eisbein.
Early the next day we all went our separate ways as some had various matters to attent to, ranging from getting additional pannier keys cut, to sorting an electrical issue on the cruiser as the one lighter socket was not working, etc. We agreed to meet each other in Okahandja and by 10am all was there and ready to continue. From here we drove gravel via Otjiwarongo and finally Uis. Our spirits could not be higher as we pulled into Basil’s spot – Brandberg Rest Camp. Tomorrow we would mount the bikes and the real trip would start
Early Friday we headed out of Uis en route to Ruacana after what felt like yet another first night, but I, for one, am not complaining. We pulled into Ruacana mid-afternoon after riding some glorious dirt highways and a quick refill to test our refueling application as fitted to the cruiser. This consisted of 2 X 210 liter drums fixed in series with a fuel pump that could fill all the bikes in under 10 minutes. The extra fuel was going to be needed for the Tombua to Ruacana stretch (680km) as well as the Ruacana to Palmwag stretch (620km) where fuel stations were non-existent.
Later that afternoon Jacques, Athol and Johan drove in from Windhoek, they had flown up as their time was at a premium and could only afford a week away from the office. Well needles to say, another first night ensued and we made full use of the opportunity. As is customary at Jackson Transport, a little truck is filled with various shooters and during a tribal council type meeting everyone is rewarded or punished for deeds done good or bad during the course of that day. Athol managed to acquire a small truck somewhere along the way and it was put to good use that night. The team was finally complete and we were all in very high spirits for the forthcoming trip.
Tonight is going to be a good night
Early Saturday we set for the Omahenene border post which according to all expectations was going to be the least busy. A short, sandy 2 spoor sandy track saw us arriving at a very quiet border post around 9am. We waited as the vehicles and the Auzzie had fallen behind before we started the officialdom. After a few minutes the radio cracked the silence to report that the Auzzie had fallen and they were busy helping him. I though to myself if that bitta sand caught him out, this was going to be a very long trip. After ± 45 minutes the Auzzie pulled in on something that vaguely resembled a KLR. He had stopped to pis and was playing catch up when a combination of sand and waterholes got the bike out of shape and he ran out of talent. In the process he almost destroyed the front end of the KLR and suffered from concussion. Apart from the fact that “he was not happy” nothing was broken, so there was little else to do other than keeping him awake and forcing hom to drink as much water as possible. Fortunately for him the local Omahanene gynecologist was on standby and could assist as he fell his @#$% off.
The Auzzie in search of the local gynecologist
After about 3 hours we had cleared the Angolan side and was ready to start in al earnest. We had taken a few bibles and soccer balls that we were going to hand out as the trip progressed. As I was the first to clear, I was thoroughly searched from head to toe, panniers, et al and I could see trouble coming if the “police captain” was going to search the vehicles as thoroughly. We had meat and booze for 11 grown men for a week and ± 420 liters of fuel so they would have a field time should they decide to confiscate anything. The gods smiles on us as he was a soccer fanatic, so after presenting him with a fancy, new soccer ball, still wrapped in plastic, we were asked to close everything and continue without as much as a peep. Money well spend.
Our fist mission was the find the site where Mielie paid the highest price, this was some 30 km’s north of our position with no known roads leading to the site. The sand was thick, the temperature was in the early thirties and soon we were taking strain as we tried to navigate our way to the position. After several hours and a few crashes we decided to pursue with the vehicles alone and leave the bikes as the okes were running out of talent.
RIP Mielie.
We found the site where Mielie was killed back in 1988, paid homage to the man, took photos and returned to where we left the bikes. Later we joined up with the “other road” leading to Humbe and decided to camp there in the middle of nowhere as there seemed to be no locals close by and there was enough firewood to braai proper. What a great day!
Early the following morning the locals started crawling out of every nook and kranion, we were definitely not in the middle of nowhere. The local dogs had a field time with the bones from the night before, so we packed and left soonest. We were somewhat behind schedule, but as we were going to hit tar road from Cahama to Lubango I wasn’t really concerned – we planned to sleep in Lubango that evening which we should manage without to much of an effort. The area we rode through was magnificent – hardly any traffic apart from the odd Chinese 125cc and enough Baobab trees to make you think you were on Madagascar. Soon we hit the boring “strato do asphalt” and Casper’s Lodge in Lubango appeared in no time.
Lubango – a big noisy city
Early the next morning we headed out to Tunda Vale where white Portugese where flung off the cliff during the revolution. I did not look over the edge myself, but Jacques confirmed with his binoculars that skeletons were visible from the lookout point where we stood. I recon I would die of a heart attack long before anyone could force me over that cliff. We also visited the Cristo Rei statue, a replica of the one in Rio and Lisbon, took the customary pictures and then headed towards the Lebo pass. Truly amazing, not sure what else to say about this pass which was apparently designed by a woman.
Tunda Vale
The replica statue – Chrito Rei
Some of us were visiting for the second time
Midday we were in Namibe enjoying lunch at one of the seaside restaurants and then tackled the last stretch to Flamingo Lodge. At the turnoff, which is in a dry riverbed, we deflated tires and then tackled the odd 30 km’s to Flamingo. The area is stunning ito scenery and the okes seemed to find their sand legs as we made our way without too much effort. This was my first visit to Flamingo, and it was well worth the wait. That evening we had yet another “first night”, but what happens at Flamingo stays at Flamingo. Let’s just say the shooter truck eventually ran out of “fuel”. Lots of entertainment was provided when wild jackal tried to catch the local cat, but the resident dog put a quick stop to that. I never realized a cat could blow itself up like that. The jackal were fed scraps of food so they came right to the steps of the restaurant. Not sure if that’s a good thing, but lets leave that argument for another day.
The restaurant at Flamingo Lodge
The next morning we headed out to see the canyons along the coast but Antonie headed back to the tar road as he had suffered a torn hamstring the night before and was battling to ride. No questions asked please. Carlos, the local proprietor of the Flamingo Lodge advised us to change money back in Namibe as the Tombua police were full of crap, so we decided to head back to Namibe, change money and eat as we only had to cover 130 km to get to the northern start of the doodsakker.
More Flaming Lodge
Spectacular sceneries around Flamingo Lodge
More scenery
Lotsa healty food at Flamingo Lodge. Can’t eat on a sober stomach
As we parted he commented that we should head along the beach back to Namibe – an offer which Shaun and I took up, really a delightful ride back to Namibe as opposed to battling the sand in the riverbed. The rest of the hokes had already gone in front, so they missed the opportunity. Our return to Namibe was well worth the effort as we exchanged money at AK520 to the U$D while the official rate was only AK180 – almost triple.
Once you reach this wreck, you turn due south along the coast towards the northern entry of the doodsakker. Open beach riding for ± 80 km’s above the high water mark.
I assume most of us have a bucket list or at least a short list of places we would like to ride and things we would like to see. The doodsakker sprung onto my list about 9 years ago when I read Metaljockeys report of their trip through the doodsakker, while the Van Zyl’s pass had always been there since I read about it as a young lad. Ideally I wanted to do the trip with the HP2, but it’s limited fuel range was a definite obstacle if one bears in mind that from Tombua to Ruacana was 680 km’s without any fuel stations. I. spend many hours trying to arrive at a plan to overcome this obstacle, first I built some panniers racks which could carry extra fuel, tested them to the Green Kalahari gathering in Riemvasmaak about 4 years ago, but I came short by some 80km’s with no extra safety fuel so it was back to the drawing board. Then I bought a R80G/S which was rebuilt and fitted with a 43 liter fuel tank, proper suspension and most bells and whistles but due to it’s heavy consumption it was also disqualified. Then one night at a function in 2015 my boss and I got speaking about bikes and bike trips and I happened to mention the doodsakker which was still on my to do list. As it turned out, he also had that section on his To do list and immediately offered himself and his Land Cruiser to my disposal.
Now I am the first to oppose any form of backup vehicle when on a bike trip, but suddenly my goal seemed achievable although it meant having to **** my conscience a little bit by using vehicles. So the planning started in all earnest and soon the trip was becoming more and more of a reality. We had to have a second backup vehicle as a few bikes would not move a Land Cruiser stuck in deep sand, so Johan generously offered the services of his Fortuner, already kitted for extreme trips. We were going to be 5 bikes, 4 x HP2’s and a R800GS plus the Land Cruiser and the Fortuner. This grew to 6 bikes after we ran into Mark, an Aussie, while in Mozambique sometime in 2015 and he heard about our plans. He was on a KLR650 ’05 model.
So here, July 2016, I was finding myself on a stretch of road that resembles something like tennisbal alley at De Wildt, except we had already done 250 km’s of this and there were many more to come. How much punishment can a tire take, how many times can a shock move up and down before something gave in to the torture. We were somewhere between Iona Park and Ruacana and according to my GPS we had about another 100 or so km’s to go. When you ride for an hour, check the progress and notice that you only covered 18 km’s in the last hour, one has to dig deep to find the resources to continue. The only break was offered by the fuel stop or waiting for the vehicles to catch up which we maximized to every 2 hours. There was no sense in us racing ahead with the backup a day behind.
I could ride these type of tracks for days on end :thumleft:
Of course, as is customary I am getting carried away by the section or incident that made the biggest impression, so let me get back to the beginning. My research on the inter web gave me spring tide in the doodsakker at 09:32 on 20 July 2016. It was winter, not to hot so that formed the basis of all my planning. To be there at that time I had to sleep at the entrance the night before, had to sleep at Flamingo Lodge on the eve of 18 July, etc., etc. till I got to the conclusion that I had to leave Gauteng on 12 July. The Brandberg Rest Camp in Uis was identified as our home base, so we would trailer our bikes to Uis, kit up and ride to Ruacana where we would meet up with a few guys who were going to fly in.
We left Gauteng around midday on 12 July and found ourselves at the Phuduhudu Lodge just outside Lobatsi around 7pm but not before collection the traditional speeding fine for not sticking to the 60km/h speed limit for those long sections before Lobatsi - farkers. Anyhow, our trip was underway and a #$%^& speeding fine was not going to dampen my spirit. As is tradition with everybody I have ever riding with, we went for our “first night” with all guns blazing. The next morning the area was white with frost and we were reminded why it is wise to invest in a quality sleeping bag when camping - par of the course. With frozen fingers we packed and left for Namibia. Anyone who has travelled this road will know that it’s long and boring and after a few hours it really becomes long and boring. About 3 km’s before Jwaneng there is a bumpy section to keep those towing a trailer awake and focused, but for the rest it’s pure torture km upon km. As the day passed the km’s ticked over and by late afternoon we were admiring the various species grazing by the roadside on the section between the Hosea Kutako airport and Windhoek – isn’t Namibia an awesome place? Warthog and Kudu were grazing less than 3 meters off the tarmac and one had to proceed with caution as there is no way of predicting which way the animal would jump should someone or something startle it. We booked in at the Arubush campsite in Windhoek and after a nice shower we headed for Joe’s Beer House. Well what happens at Joe’s Beer House stays at Joe’s but all I can say is fun was had by all. I had half an Eisbein to deal with the next day – I kid you not, I could not finish the mother of an Eisbein.
Early the next day we all went our separate ways as some had various matters to attent to, ranging from getting additional pannier keys cut, to sorting an electrical issue on the cruiser as the one lighter socket was not working, etc. We agreed to meet each other in Okahandja and by 10am all was there and ready to continue. From here we drove gravel via Otjiwarongo and finally Uis. Our spirits could not be higher as we pulled into Basil’s spot – Brandberg Rest Camp. Tomorrow we would mount the bikes and the real trip would start
Early Friday we headed out of Uis en route to Ruacana after what felt like yet another first night, but I, for one, am not complaining. We pulled into Ruacana mid-afternoon after riding some glorious dirt highways and a quick refill to test our refueling application as fitted to the cruiser. This consisted of 2 X 210 liter drums fixed in series with a fuel pump that could fill all the bikes in under 10 minutes. The extra fuel was going to be needed for the Tombua to Ruacana stretch (680km) as well as the Ruacana to Palmwag stretch (620km) where fuel stations were non-existent.
Later that afternoon Jacques, Athol and Johan drove in from Windhoek, they had flown up as their time was at a premium and could only afford a week away from the office. Well needles to say, another first night ensued and we made full use of the opportunity. As is customary at Jackson Transport, a little truck is filled with various shooters and during a tribal council type meeting everyone is rewarded or punished for deeds done good or bad during the course of that day. Athol managed to acquire a small truck somewhere along the way and it was put to good use that night. The team was finally complete and we were all in very high spirits for the forthcoming trip.
Tonight is going to be a good night
Early Saturday we set for the Omahenene border post which according to all expectations was going to be the least busy. A short, sandy 2 spoor sandy track saw us arriving at a very quiet border post around 9am. We waited as the vehicles and the Auzzie had fallen behind before we started the officialdom. After a few minutes the radio cracked the silence to report that the Auzzie had fallen and they were busy helping him. I though to myself if that bitta sand caught him out, this was going to be a very long trip. After ± 45 minutes the Auzzie pulled in on something that vaguely resembled a KLR. He had stopped to pis and was playing catch up when a combination of sand and waterholes got the bike out of shape and he ran out of talent. In the process he almost destroyed the front end of the KLR and suffered from concussion. Apart from the fact that “he was not happy” nothing was broken, so there was little else to do other than keeping him awake and forcing hom to drink as much water as possible. Fortunately for him the local Omahanene gynecologist was on standby and could assist as he fell his @#$% off.
The Auzzie in search of the local gynecologist
After about 3 hours we had cleared the Angolan side and was ready to start in al earnest. We had taken a few bibles and soccer balls that we were going to hand out as the trip progressed. As I was the first to clear, I was thoroughly searched from head to toe, panniers, et al and I could see trouble coming if the “police captain” was going to search the vehicles as thoroughly. We had meat and booze for 11 grown men for a week and ± 420 liters of fuel so they would have a field time should they decide to confiscate anything. The gods smiles on us as he was a soccer fanatic, so after presenting him with a fancy, new soccer ball, still wrapped in plastic, we were asked to close everything and continue without as much as a peep. Money well spend.
Our fist mission was the find the site where Mielie paid the highest price, this was some 30 km’s north of our position with no known roads leading to the site. The sand was thick, the temperature was in the early thirties and soon we were taking strain as we tried to navigate our way to the position. After several hours and a few crashes we decided to pursue with the vehicles alone and leave the bikes as the okes were running out of talent.
RIP Mielie.
We found the site where Mielie was killed back in 1988, paid homage to the man, took photos and returned to where we left the bikes. Later we joined up with the “other road” leading to Humbe and decided to camp there in the middle of nowhere as there seemed to be no locals close by and there was enough firewood to braai proper. What a great day!
Early the following morning the locals started crawling out of every nook and kranion, we were definitely not in the middle of nowhere. The local dogs had a field time with the bones from the night before, so we packed and left soonest. We were somewhat behind schedule, but as we were going to hit tar road from Cahama to Lubango I wasn’t really concerned – we planned to sleep in Lubango that evening which we should manage without to much of an effort. The area we rode through was magnificent – hardly any traffic apart from the odd Chinese 125cc and enough Baobab trees to make you think you were on Madagascar. Soon we hit the boring “strato do asphalt” and Casper’s Lodge in Lubango appeared in no time.
Lubango – a big noisy city
Early the next morning we headed out to Tunda Vale where white Portugese where flung off the cliff during the revolution. I did not look over the edge myself, but Jacques confirmed with his binoculars that skeletons were visible from the lookout point where we stood. I recon I would die of a heart attack long before anyone could force me over that cliff. We also visited the Cristo Rei statue, a replica of the one in Rio and Lisbon, took the customary pictures and then headed towards the Lebo pass. Truly amazing, not sure what else to say about this pass which was apparently designed by a woman.
Tunda Vale
The replica statue – Chrito Rei
Some of us were visiting for the second time
Midday we were in Namibe enjoying lunch at one of the seaside restaurants and then tackled the last stretch to Flamingo Lodge. At the turnoff, which is in a dry riverbed, we deflated tires and then tackled the odd 30 km’s to Flamingo. The area is stunning ito scenery and the okes seemed to find their sand legs as we made our way without too much effort. This was my first visit to Flamingo, and it was well worth the wait. That evening we had yet another “first night”, but what happens at Flamingo stays at Flamingo. Let’s just say the shooter truck eventually ran out of “fuel”. Lots of entertainment was provided when wild jackal tried to catch the local cat, but the resident dog put a quick stop to that. I never realized a cat could blow itself up like that. The jackal were fed scraps of food so they came right to the steps of the restaurant. Not sure if that’s a good thing, but lets leave that argument for another day.
The restaurant at Flamingo Lodge
The next morning we headed out to see the canyons along the coast but Antonie headed back to the tar road as he had suffered a torn hamstring the night before and was battling to ride. No questions asked please. Carlos, the local proprietor of the Flamingo Lodge advised us to change money back in Namibe as the Tombua police were full of crap, so we decided to head back to Namibe, change money and eat as we only had to cover 130 km to get to the northern start of the doodsakker.
More Flaming Lodge
Spectacular sceneries around Flamingo Lodge
More scenery
Lotsa healty food at Flamingo Lodge. Can’t eat on a sober stomach
As we parted he commented that we should head along the beach back to Namibe – an offer which Shaun and I took up, really a delightful ride back to Namibe as opposed to battling the sand in the riverbed. The rest of the hokes had already gone in front, so they missed the opportunity. Our return to Namibe was well worth the effort as we exchanged money at AK520 to the U$D while the official rate was only AK180 – almost triple.
Once you reach this wreck, you turn due south along the coast towards the northern entry of the doodsakker. Open beach riding for ± 80 km’s above the high water mark.
