Day 13
This day was technically a liaison as I was returning on the main road to Sesfontein to pick up luggage I left there, refuel and come back the same say to Puros for another sleepover before I will push on further north. A total of 220 km - 110 km each way. But I was actually looking forward to it as this 'main road' is one of the most pleasurable tracks I know to ride on the big fat Tenere. It consist from three distinct sections. First third or so is a track running through spectacular valley along and sometimes through another riverbed, with occasional giraffe and elephant encounters - while considerable portion is in sand, it is generally not too deep compacted sand. In the middle splitting the Puros and Sesfontein conservancies is about 10 - 15 km field of deep red sand with frequent oryx sightseeings. This one can be quite testing if you are not up for it, but manageable - I've done it on GSA1150, so with a bit of an effort an average bimbo like me can make it. The last third is a hard-pack track crossing the mountains into Sesfontein.
Route for the day:
I've agreed with the lodge lady to keep my room for one more night and set-off. I've made it along the Huarusib river to Puros in no time and joined the main road. The riding was fantastic - while the riverbed day before was often deep sand, this track was mostly hard pack with sand of top with occasional small dune for variety. Soon I was sliding my rear wheel around the corners following the track winding between the bushes surrounding dry riverbed. At one point I came sliding across a left corner and 15 meters ahead a tree right next to the road split in two and half of it galloped across the road into the bushes on the opposite side. It was just a giraffe, but I continued with greater caution in the overgrown places as it could have been easily elephant.
Offending giraffe and its partner further ahead:
I stopped once or twice for a smoke and sightseeing:
Pretty quickly I arrived to the sand plains and battled my way across the 10 - 15 km of deep red sand. Last time I was here I was able to ride Tenere occasionally up to 80 kmh, but this time for some reason I couldn't get into the swing of things and struggled at much slower pace:
After the sand plains it was the hard-pack in the mountains:
I arrived to Sesfontein before lunch and headed first into the local Woolies to restock on cigarettes, Spam and condensed sweetened milk - my preferred cheat for a quick energy boost. I was surprised to find EXC450 parked in front. The owner was the only other customer inside watched by a swarm of local layabouts hanging by the cashier. He barely acknowledged me and didn't seem inclined to develop any kind of relationship further, so we browsed fully geared up silently around the three short shelfs and then bumped into each other at the cashier. We would probably part our way without much more conversation, but there was some cigarette related hick-up at the counter which provoked a short conversation in which he revealed in broken English to be from Austria and part of bigger group currently settled in the Sesfontein Fort. I assumed, that he was part of the same group as Fritz, the Swiss gentleman on Aprilia RXV I've bumped into in the White Lady.
I was right, as I found out when I arrived to the Fort to collect my luggage, where I found these:
There was about 20 or so bikes. With exception of the Aprilia all of them KTM or BMW, most of which were 690, EXC450s and X-Challenge. If I remember correctly there were also one 800GS, one 990R (with duck tape fixed crashed front end) and one SE. They had MAN truck for support carrying all the luggage and spare fuel. I would call them loosely the german group - some of them were actually Austrians and Swiss, but the common language was German, and most of them had very limited or none command of English.
I wasn't thrilled to see them. Part of the charm of Kaokoland for me is the remoteness and solitude of the area. With 20 or so bikes ripping the same area like me with all the macho antics that come with it, it would feel more like a weekend in DeWildt than a soul healing remote adventure ride. And I knew from experience that these organised groups are usually pretty closed-up - they do not readily allow outsider in (especially one who rides unsupported with full luggage on a heavy bike the same tracks as them on light enduro bikes). So I didn't expect much socialising either - especially as my German is almost non-existent nowadays.
My premonition seemed right when I walked into the bar, where most of them were seated amongst their gear - there were few raised eyebrows, but I've got only one or two half hearted grunts as a reply to my greetings, none of the usual South African camaraderie. Well with my smiley advances not met, I thought screw it - at the end of the day I didn't need them and just tried to be friendly, ordered a drink and went to collect my luggage at the reception. I would come to be kind of be sorry for my arrogance later - and kind of not actually.
I hate packing so I took my time and took many breaks drinking and smoking in the in the shade of the palm trees in the courtyard. At one occasion the only lady in the group joined me for a cigarette - she did speak good English and confirmed that they are going to Puros today and then will continue up the Huarusib river. She wasn't sure if they are going to take riverbed to Puros or the main road. Eventually they all started to move off in smaller group going first for refuel and then setting off to Puros, with the truck bringing up the rear.
I took another lazy hour or so to finish packing, lunch and few more drinks and set-off again at about half one, going for fuel first. By this stage I was getting short on time as I spent three days instead of one in Brandberg and this have done this unplanned detour back to Sesfontein. So have decided to head straight to Van Zyl Pass and skip the Marienfluss as it is a detour of about 80-100 km (up and down the valley) and I've done it before. This, and the fact that I have already done Hoanib river, shortened the expected distance to the next petrol to about 350 - 380 km, so I decided to fill up only one of the 7 litre jerry cans, and leave the other one empty.
With tank and jerry can full I returned back to the road and backtracked to Puros. I was surprised to catch the german support truck already in the mountains as they left good hour and a half before me - they were clearly taking it easy. With the additional luggage and petrol on board I battled even more than in the morning through the sand field, and pushed on hard to not be overtaken shamefully by the track again that I can see a km or two behind me. I've made it out of the sand before the truck, but then had to take a break and the truck took over - yes, I do feel ashamed for that.
Break after the sand plain:
Shade was in the short supply in the midday heat:
And the moment of shame - I can understand now how those back markers on Dakar must feel when caught up by trucks:
Then the road got really busy with these two 4x4s gunning it by - if you haven't seen a car whole day (actually couple of days - except the truck), this suddenly feels like a rush hour in Sandton:
Shortly after the sand plain there is a small Himba settlement by the dry riverbed:
After that it's just magic track weaving through the beautifull valleys in and out of the riverbed almost all the way to Puros. I'll stop blabbering and let the pictures talk:
The truck in sight again:
I caught up with the truck in the place where the track wasn't wide enough for two cars to pass. I hooted and the truck moved to the left little bit, but I wasn't sure if he really heard me or it was just coincidence, so I hesitated few seconds and when it seemed that he may know about me I gassed up for quick getaway. The problem was there was a quite a bit of sand so opening throttle resulted in spinning rear wheel and very little speed gain. I was inching my way next to those big wheels for what felt like minute until the rear wheel finally found traction and I shoot forward. Later in the campsite the driver complained that I showered their windscreen with lots of rocks for which I apologised and explained that it wasn't intentional, but rather survival kicking in.
In Puros I headed straight for the mall to buy cold drinks for the evening as there were none available at the lodge. The german tribe was sitting there lost in the desert waiting for the mother hen truck to lead them out. From what I've gathered they rode to Puros straight on the main road, but then took a little ride down the Puros canyon and back up.
With shopping done I continued through Puros and up the Huarusib river back to the Community Lodge:
Home, sweet home:
Another evening in Puros - life sucks.
Again, I will not have a video ready for fe months so here is another shameless repeat video plug of the same ride from my prior trip - going from Sesfontein to Puros:
[flash=800,580]https://www.youtube.com/v/Rde-Ch2LIL0[/flash]
