Metaljockey
Race Dog
Fokkit manne. I'll leave the replies for later, let me get the next installment primed, stand by.
Angola, it's not like they said.
- Thread starter Metaljockey
- Start date
LuckyStriker
Bachelor Dog
maak gou
dis amper uitvaltyd vir my
dis amper uitvaltyd vir my
MrBig
Grey Hound
Ek check your priorities!
First ADVR and then WildDogs.
Shocking!
First ADVR and then WildDogs.
Shocking!
Metaljockey
Race Dog
Michnus and myself have no idea what's happened behind us. All we know is it can't be good.
When we ride in remote areas such as this, we always try to be at least three riders. This allows one to stay with an injured rider while the third goes for help. Behind us are three riders but not one of them made it out of the doodsakker. I would expect at least one to come through with an update.
With no-one forthcoming, I can only think of two explanations.
I was in front and I don't have the GPS. Maybe the route veered away from the beach through an unseen gap in the dune. I very seriously doubt it though. I've been hugging that dune like I hugged Leonie Van Der Walt when she pulled me into her ample bosom the first time at a school dance.
If there was a gap, I would have seen it.
The other reason could be that someone is dead. I cannot think of any other reason that all three bikes will stay away.
We cannot go back. We had hoped that we could all leave Foz do Cunene with a full tank of fuel. This did not happen. Except for one bike, everybody had already started using their last tank in the desert. Fuel moved from being the main priority to being the only priority. On this, both Michnus and myself agree. There's no way we are going to be riding in any direction, but to Tombua.
We can make camp here and wait until tomorrow, but what if they still don't turn up? Then we've wasted a day and we're still in the same position. And it's not like we're overstocked on food either.
Michnus says he still saw Fred's headlight behind him not too far back. Maybe one or two kilometres. So we decide to walk back.
The walking turns out to be little different from the riding. It's more slogging than walking. Every step sinks in. In the beginning we still take a picture or two when we come across something interesting.
This one is my favourite:
Jackall spoor.
After about an hour's walk I climb onto the dune to see if I can get a better view. Surprisingly it's easier to walk on the dune. So we move upstairs.
We also get to see what the interior looks like. Damn!
And we walk and we walk.
Two and a half hours walking brings us upon this scene.
We learn of what happened. At this stage we don't know his ankle is broken. Fred isn't willing to take off his boot for fear of not being able to get it back on. Good call. We are over here:
It's not like we can summon an ambulance. He's gonna need that boot to get out of here.
The twenty minutes or so it took to get Fred and his bike recovered from the sea, had shut the door on the doodsakker. So they decided to ram the bikes as far up the dune as they can and wait out the tide. It would have been plain stupid to try and send one rider through to us.
We are very lucky that the sea is relatively calm. The waves make us nervous but it does not reach the bikes.
I had always reasoned that, worst case scenario, we can always drag the bikes up the dune. Being here it's clear that that was never gonna happen.
Fred's bike amazes everyone. The only damage from the cartwheel is a bent handlebar, a throttle that is now manual and some broken indicators. By the time Fred was sorted, the bike had been lying in the waves for probably 15 minutes. Yet it fired into life like nothing untoward had happened. Score! Two problems solved; we do not need to recover a broken bike and Fred has transport.
It's too bad that it had to be Fred. It could have been any of us. Every day so far he had to work three times as hard as the rest of us. Every day so far he had an off. Twice he got hurt. The ankle that now broke is the same one that took the punishment two days before (remember the helmet wedge pic?). Every night he would be pleased at how he exceeded his own abilities that day.
He has a lot to digest whilst lying against this dune. Taking a tumble like that messes with your head quite a bit. By this afternoon when the tide goes out again, he needs to be ready to get back on the bike and once again attack the sand monster. This time with one leg he can't use, bent handlebars and a sticky throttle.
I really feel for him, I feel even worse for not being able to offer any help. He is on his own in this.
We agree that they will try to ride out on the afternoons low tide. If it comes too late they'll catch the next morning's. Me and Michnus should return to our bikes and wait.
We rest for an hour or so and then start the walk back. As we leave we see a grey mass come in from the south. It's a cold wind racing over the Benguela current.
Neither Michnus nor myself can be called fitness freaks. This time it takes longer than two and a half hours. We are so knackered that we stop to rest three times with our bikes already in view. They are filthy dirty. There will have to be a total strip down.
This foul wind is icy cold and we pitch tents to get out of it.
The poor *******s against the dune don't have that luxury.
Beach holiday my ***.
Late that afternoon we hear the bikes over the wind. They made it. While we pull our tents down Nardus is doing his 'Tough Biker' impression.
While the rest of us kick the **** out of my bike, Hennie and Fred gets going. While he can, he must ride. They'll wait for us where the route veers back into the interior.
When we finally get going the riding is suddenly easy. We still ride the wet stuff but there is grip in most places and we can get the speed up nicely. There's also a wide beach to run to when the waves come in.
As the afternoon slows into a sunset, one after the other the bikes start hitting reserve. We are still carrying about 7 litres in containers. Everybody knows how far his bike can go on reserve and we only stop for fuel when empty is imminent. We start sharing out the fuel at about a litre a time. We know we might not make it but now we are close enough to Tombua to walk out in one or two days max. It may be unpleasant, but it is do-able.
Along the beach the scenery is spectacular. It is really enjoyable riding. In our country all beach riding is banned. We are getting our fill now.
At the final wreck Hennie and Fred is waiting.
When we get there, the day is gone.
It is here that we turn inland. With the wind, camping does'nt look like such a peachy idea. We decide to keep going.
As Fred tries to clear the shelf dropping onto the beach he goes down. He goes down on the sore leg. I feel it. This would not to be the last time. If you cannot use your leg to steady the bike, then that's the side you will fall onto more often.
It gets dark. My bike has no lights and neither does Hennie's. We are riding in the desert again on a reasonable track with the odd sandy stretch. It's not that pleasant without lights. But it is possible for us to get to Tombua tonight still. It's been three days since we've seen a beer.
We suddenly hit a tall dune and Fred just plain flies up it. Both me and Hennie have to take more than one run at it. Looks like Fred wants to get to Tombua without any fannying about.
I find that riding sand blind is actually easier as I do not see the sandy bits coming. I only feel it and respond. Who would've guessed.
In the mean time, our reserve fuel is no more. The next bike that runs out, runs out. It's just incredible that we can cut it this close after 6 days of riding over all kinds of terrain.
Five guys caress their throttles in the most sensitive manner. We roll into Tombua on fumes and millilitres. We pull straight into the filling station. Relief! ****, we made it. We're back in civilisation. People all over!
We are filthy and ******* tired. Tombua is a fishing port. I know that there is no accomodation, not even a camp site. But once again the good people of Angola humble us. We ask a car at the fuel station where we could sleep. He takes us to a mate of his called Ze. Ze speaks English, he has a factory that we can sleep at. He directs us first to a restaurant, promising to fetch us when we are finished eating.
We chuck down beers like oysters. We eat food prepared by someone. Meat. Man, it's difficult to describe what one feels. When Ze fetches us and takes us to his factory grounds, I feel like I have a father again, looking out for me. Showering will have to wait till the next day when the factory generator is started. We pitch our tents and pass out.
When we ride in remote areas such as this, we always try to be at least three riders. This allows one to stay with an injured rider while the third goes for help. Behind us are three riders but not one of them made it out of the doodsakker. I would expect at least one to come through with an update.
With no-one forthcoming, I can only think of two explanations.
I was in front and I don't have the GPS. Maybe the route veered away from the beach through an unseen gap in the dune. I very seriously doubt it though. I've been hugging that dune like I hugged Leonie Van Der Walt when she pulled me into her ample bosom the first time at a school dance.
If there was a gap, I would have seen it.
The other reason could be that someone is dead. I cannot think of any other reason that all three bikes will stay away.
We cannot go back. We had hoped that we could all leave Foz do Cunene with a full tank of fuel. This did not happen. Except for one bike, everybody had already started using their last tank in the desert. Fuel moved from being the main priority to being the only priority. On this, both Michnus and myself agree. There's no way we are going to be riding in any direction, but to Tombua.
We can make camp here and wait until tomorrow, but what if they still don't turn up? Then we've wasted a day and we're still in the same position. And it's not like we're overstocked on food either.
Michnus says he still saw Fred's headlight behind him not too far back. Maybe one or two kilometres. So we decide to walk back.
The walking turns out to be little different from the riding. It's more slogging than walking. Every step sinks in. In the beginning we still take a picture or two when we come across something interesting.
This one is my favourite:
Jackall spoor.
After about an hour's walk I climb onto the dune to see if I can get a better view. Surprisingly it's easier to walk on the dune. So we move upstairs.
We also get to see what the interior looks like. Damn!
And we walk and we walk.
Two and a half hours walking brings us upon this scene.
We learn of what happened. At this stage we don't know his ankle is broken. Fred isn't willing to take off his boot for fear of not being able to get it back on. Good call. We are over here:
It's not like we can summon an ambulance. He's gonna need that boot to get out of here.
The twenty minutes or so it took to get Fred and his bike recovered from the sea, had shut the door on the doodsakker. So they decided to ram the bikes as far up the dune as they can and wait out the tide. It would have been plain stupid to try and send one rider through to us.
We are very lucky that the sea is relatively calm. The waves make us nervous but it does not reach the bikes.
I had always reasoned that, worst case scenario, we can always drag the bikes up the dune. Being here it's clear that that was never gonna happen.
Fred's bike amazes everyone. The only damage from the cartwheel is a bent handlebar, a throttle that is now manual and some broken indicators. By the time Fred was sorted, the bike had been lying in the waves for probably 15 minutes. Yet it fired into life like nothing untoward had happened. Score! Two problems solved; we do not need to recover a broken bike and Fred has transport.
It's too bad that it had to be Fred. It could have been any of us. Every day so far he had to work three times as hard as the rest of us. Every day so far he had an off. Twice he got hurt. The ankle that now broke is the same one that took the punishment two days before (remember the helmet wedge pic?). Every night he would be pleased at how he exceeded his own abilities that day.
He has a lot to digest whilst lying against this dune. Taking a tumble like that messes with your head quite a bit. By this afternoon when the tide goes out again, he needs to be ready to get back on the bike and once again attack the sand monster. This time with one leg he can't use, bent handlebars and a sticky throttle.
I really feel for him, I feel even worse for not being able to offer any help. He is on his own in this.
We agree that they will try to ride out on the afternoons low tide. If it comes too late they'll catch the next morning's. Me and Michnus should return to our bikes and wait.
We rest for an hour or so and then start the walk back. As we leave we see a grey mass come in from the south. It's a cold wind racing over the Benguela current.
Neither Michnus nor myself can be called fitness freaks. This time it takes longer than two and a half hours. We are so knackered that we stop to rest three times with our bikes already in view. They are filthy dirty. There will have to be a total strip down.
This foul wind is icy cold and we pitch tents to get out of it.
The poor *******s against the dune don't have that luxury.
Beach holiday my ***.
Late that afternoon we hear the bikes over the wind. They made it. While we pull our tents down Nardus is doing his 'Tough Biker' impression.
While the rest of us kick the **** out of my bike, Hennie and Fred gets going. While he can, he must ride. They'll wait for us where the route veers back into the interior.
When we finally get going the riding is suddenly easy. We still ride the wet stuff but there is grip in most places and we can get the speed up nicely. There's also a wide beach to run to when the waves come in.
As the afternoon slows into a sunset, one after the other the bikes start hitting reserve. We are still carrying about 7 litres in containers. Everybody knows how far his bike can go on reserve and we only stop for fuel when empty is imminent. We start sharing out the fuel at about a litre a time. We know we might not make it but now we are close enough to Tombua to walk out in one or two days max. It may be unpleasant, but it is do-able.
Along the beach the scenery is spectacular. It is really enjoyable riding. In our country all beach riding is banned. We are getting our fill now.
At the final wreck Hennie and Fred is waiting.
When we get there, the day is gone.
It is here that we turn inland. With the wind, camping does'nt look like such a peachy idea. We decide to keep going.
As Fred tries to clear the shelf dropping onto the beach he goes down. He goes down on the sore leg. I feel it. This would not to be the last time. If you cannot use your leg to steady the bike, then that's the side you will fall onto more often.
It gets dark. My bike has no lights and neither does Hennie's. We are riding in the desert again on a reasonable track with the odd sandy stretch. It's not that pleasant without lights. But it is possible for us to get to Tombua tonight still. It's been three days since we've seen a beer.
We suddenly hit a tall dune and Fred just plain flies up it. Both me and Hennie have to take more than one run at it. Looks like Fred wants to get to Tombua without any fannying about.
I find that riding sand blind is actually easier as I do not see the sandy bits coming. I only feel it and respond. Who would've guessed.
In the mean time, our reserve fuel is no more. The next bike that runs out, runs out. It's just incredible that we can cut it this close after 6 days of riding over all kinds of terrain.
Five guys caress their throttles in the most sensitive manner. We roll into Tombua on fumes and millilitres. We pull straight into the filling station. Relief! ****, we made it. We're back in civilisation. People all over!
We are filthy and ******* tired. Tombua is a fishing port. I know that there is no accomodation, not even a camp site. But once again the good people of Angola humble us. We ask a car at the fuel station where we could sleep. He takes us to a mate of his called Ze. Ze speaks English, he has a factory that we can sleep at. He directs us first to a restaurant, promising to fetch us when we are finished eating.
We chuck down beers like oysters. We eat food prepared by someone. Meat. Man, it's difficult to describe what one feels. When Ze fetches us and takes us to his factory grounds, I feel like I have a father again, looking out for me. Showering will have to wait till the next day when the factory generator is started. We pitch our tents and pass out.
MrBig
Grey Hound
HOLY ****
Trailrider
Bachelor Dog
Wow.
Next? ;D
Next? ;D
Joyride
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jul 1, 2007
- Messages
- 682
- Reaction score
- 5
- Location
- Cape Town, Western Province
- Bike
- KTM 950 SE
F#kkit, this is awesome stuff. All that afk@k and suddenly it gets better, but it could get worse again at any moment.
Isn't this what adventure is all about?
Isn't this what adventure is all about?
This thread is like a soap opera.........
"Like sand through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives"
;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
I'm not complaining, keep it coming, keep it coming..................
Very enjoyable reading!!
"Like sand through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives"
;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
I'm not complaining, keep it coming, keep it coming..................
Very enjoyable reading!!
Eisbein
Bachelor Dog
Wow.
Speechless.
Just farking wow...
Speechless.
Just farking wow...
D
David van Breda
Guest
Ja-nee,
Long Way Round my ***! This is just amazing . . .
Long Way Round my ***! This is just amazing . . .
Davy said:
Long Way Round.................Never heard about them........
Should I know them ? ...... cause they sure as hell can't have better pics than this?
;D ;D ;D ;D ;D ;D
CrazyPorra
Race Dog
Balls, must be Elephant balls. Fred must be one hell of a tough man, respect.
topbox
Race Dog
Metaljockey said:This one is my favourite:
Jackall spoor.
Sure you could make a T-shirt or wallpaper/tiles out of this print
popipants
Race Dog
Were NOT worthy!!!
IceCreamMan
Grey Hound
- Joined
- Aug 30, 2006
- Messages
- 9,490
- Reaction score
- 1,024
MJ , a previous ride report of yours which i read at ADVrider i rated as the best i had ever read ...an until this one that was the case ...this one surpasses that by a long way.
All respect to you okes and i look forward sometime in the future to reading a RR from you that surpasses this one...
now hurry up with the next installment ;D
All respect to you okes and i look forward sometime in the future to reading a RR from you that surpasses this one...
now hurry up with the next installment ;D
Wow manne, heck we are busy with planning for an Angola trip in April. If it is anything remotely as hectic as your trip mj, well then I am FU@KED as I have only started riding in Jan = 10 months exp.
Utmost respect for what you guys did, but I am too lazy,old, not exp to attempt anything like that, but Angola here we come in April 2008(all be it with fingers crossed and praying everyday)
Hijack on
p.s. we mght still have one or 2 places due to cancelations, anyone interested contact me.
Hijack off
Utmost respect for what you guys did, but I am too lazy,old, not exp to attempt anything like that, but Angola here we come in April 2008(all be it with fingers crossed and praying everyday)
Hijack on
p.s. we mght still have one or 2 places due to cancelations, anyone interested contact me.
Hijack off
