With the usual year end workload it's not always that I find myself on a Sunday morning with a few hours to spare. Having not ridden in a long time (refer aforementioned work load) I decided it would be the ideal time to go and find that abandoned railway bridge on the southern side of Hartbeespoort dam.
Alas the boys already had other plans, and wifey was on call, so this was going to be a solo ride. Lekker! So I quickly squizzed google's maps to see how,to get there, more or less, then I pulled out Japie and kitted up.
Having not ridden for a while the wheels needed some inflation, and she's so dirty and dusty from standing I decided to wash her first. How often do you wash your bike before a ride? Normally washing the bike afterwards makes me want to go out and ride again, so the pre-ride wash just upped my excitement.
And we were off!
My normal rout out that way takes me past Zwartkops race track, and through Erasmia to get to Skurweberg. Heading towards the racetrack I recalled an offroad shortcut going through some equestrian grounds, and took it again. Man, what used to be a road, tweespoor at least, had become disused and a small single track. some of the track was closed off also by heaps of earth, dumped in the road for some mysterious reason.
It doesn't really look like it, but that's an overgrown heap of earth stretching across the track.
And another one. 4 in total. At least it was a simple task of getting over them, courtesy of my awesome machine.
from there it's a hop, skip and a jump to get to Skurweberg, always an awesome section to ride. Until you get to the part where you have to cross Hennops river, that is. The river was flowing rapidly over the low bridge.
I considered turning around, not wanting to take chances while I'm alone. That was, until some locals crossed the bridge by foot. Ok, I thought, if they don't get swept away then my bike and I should be okay.
And we were, it was really an easy crossing, in spite of the almost knee-deep water.
Next up was some awesome gravel in Harties itself, while figuring out a path to the railway bridge.
I reached Estate d'Afrique, only to be informed there's no way through it to Meerhof. Oh well, turned around and thought I'd try my luck going up past Ale House.
This section was more, uhm, interesting and I could see remnants of a serious storm that seems to have passed this way.
Needless to say I did what I always do when I ride solo… I got stuck in some mud. Well, not stuck, per se, but basically not moving forward anymore, although the back wheel seemed to think it was. Snotty and squishy, I decided to take a quick rest while catching my breath, and did my best to lift the rear and move it out of the mud.
With the road across the mud pool looking decidedly overgrown I decided to turn around and try find an alternate route.
Eventually succeeding in leaving the mud behind me I made my way back to the tar and stopped at the first restaurant for something to replenish my energy. I had stupidly also forgotten to take my water, I was thirsty as hell.
This burger went down great, along with lots of water. Okay okay, and a milkshake. While eating I had another quick squiz at google maps and figured I found a way to the bridge. So after the breakfast it was off… and not 10 minutes later I was in front of the bridge. This turned out to be easier that I thought. The route to the bridge, that is.
Standing there a father and daughter arrived, having crossed the bridge on their mountain bikes. They were adament that the loose metal plates were not really fit for a motorcycle to cross, and also asked me to take a photo of them. ”Well I don't know you”, I said, “why on earth would I want a photo of you?”. He held out his phone. “Oh, with your phone”, I mumbled.
Having taken their photo I decided to cross the bridge anyway, what's the worst that could happen, right? There was barbed wire all along the bridge so at the very least it would cath me and stop me from moering into the Crocodile river far below.
Crossing the bridge turned out not to be so scary as I thought it would be, I kept my focus ahead instead of on the water far below.
I imagine old steam trains would stop here to refill their water.
Well that was it, my goal was achieved and I had enough time to make it home before the afternoon. Just in time to wash the bike, again, and take a lekker middag slapie.
Fluit fluit, my storie is uit. Tot volgende keer, maatjies!
Alas the boys already had other plans, and wifey was on call, so this was going to be a solo ride. Lekker! So I quickly squizzed google's maps to see how,to get there, more or less, then I pulled out Japie and kitted up.
Having not ridden for a while the wheels needed some inflation, and she's so dirty and dusty from standing I decided to wash her first. How often do you wash your bike before a ride? Normally washing the bike afterwards makes me want to go out and ride again, so the pre-ride wash just upped my excitement.
And we were off!
My normal rout out that way takes me past Zwartkops race track, and through Erasmia to get to Skurweberg. Heading towards the racetrack I recalled an offroad shortcut going through some equestrian grounds, and took it again. Man, what used to be a road, tweespoor at least, had become disused and a small single track. some of the track was closed off also by heaps of earth, dumped in the road for some mysterious reason.
It doesn't really look like it, but that's an overgrown heap of earth stretching across the track.
And another one. 4 in total. At least it was a simple task of getting over them, courtesy of my awesome machine.
from there it's a hop, skip and a jump to get to Skurweberg, always an awesome section to ride. Until you get to the part where you have to cross Hennops river, that is. The river was flowing rapidly over the low bridge.
And we were, it was really an easy crossing, in spite of the almost knee-deep water.
Next up was some awesome gravel in Harties itself, while figuring out a path to the railway bridge.
I reached Estate d'Afrique, only to be informed there's no way through it to Meerhof. Oh well, turned around and thought I'd try my luck going up past Ale House.
This section was more, uhm, interesting and I could see remnants of a serious storm that seems to have passed this way.
Needless to say I did what I always do when I ride solo… I got stuck in some mud. Well, not stuck, per se, but basically not moving forward anymore, although the back wheel seemed to think it was. Snotty and squishy, I decided to take a quick rest while catching my breath, and did my best to lift the rear and move it out of the mud.
With the road across the mud pool looking decidedly overgrown I decided to turn around and try find an alternate route.
Eventually succeeding in leaving the mud behind me I made my way back to the tar and stopped at the first restaurant for something to replenish my energy. I had stupidly also forgotten to take my water, I was thirsty as hell.
This burger went down great, along with lots of water. Okay okay, and a milkshake. While eating I had another quick squiz at google maps and figured I found a way to the bridge. So after the breakfast it was off… and not 10 minutes later I was in front of the bridge. This turned out to be easier that I thought. The route to the bridge, that is.
Standing there a father and daughter arrived, having crossed the bridge on their mountain bikes. They were adament that the loose metal plates were not really fit for a motorcycle to cross, and also asked me to take a photo of them. ”Well I don't know you”, I said, “why on earth would I want a photo of you?”. He held out his phone. “Oh, with your phone”, I mumbled.
Having taken their photo I decided to cross the bridge anyway, what's the worst that could happen, right? There was barbed wire all along the bridge so at the very least it would cath me and stop me from moering into the Crocodile river far below.
Crossing the bridge turned out not to be so scary as I thought it would be, I kept my focus ahead instead of on the water far below.
I imagine old steam trains would stop here to refill their water.
Well that was it, my goal was achieved and I had enough time to make it home before the afternoon. Just in time to wash the bike, again, and take a lekker middag slapie.
Fluit fluit, my storie is uit. Tot volgende keer, maatjies!
