Day 15 - part 3
But first things first - let's procrastinate a bit with a smoke, make myself comfortable in the shade under a nearby tree, and most importantly take pretty pictures. It was hot and the tree wasn't exactly Ana tree, so the shade was quite sparse, but it will have to do for now. On the positive side the view was good and my balls weren't freezing off.
The scenery - nothing like middle of VZP with dead bike to make you appreciate proper solitude - the silence was overpowering:
Right, with the nicotine levels back to normal, let's make a phone call. This satellite phones are a wonderful invention - that is when they work. Frustratingly they mostly don't, or rather they pretend to connect while you can see your expensive airtime ticking away listening to some static, or worse hearing the counterpart, while they cannot hear you. That wasn't the problem with Mr. Offroadcycle though as nobody picked up the phone there - he and his crew were clearly enjoying luxurious vacation in the comfort of his villa in northern Pretoria, while this IT working bee was slaving in the hot and harsh Kaokoland.
Luckily I remembered that Shimwells were working over the holidays and after few unsuccessful calls I managed eventually to speak to Braam, who confirmed that my clutch plates are gone and the way out is to throw the bike on its side, take the clutch cover and pressure plate off (see how fluently I use these highly specialist terms now - didn't have a clue what they were are the time) and take one of the steel plates separating the clutch plates out and that should get me out of sticks. So that is what I tentatively set-off to do, taking pictures at each stage to be able to put that mysterious thing back together:
Cover off:
Pressure plate off:
Roundabout this point, I've heard a sweet sound of thumpers from the valley down bellow. Immediately I stopped and switched to option 2 waiting to delegate the task to the initiated ones who've seen naked clutch before.
The forward party of two EXCs arrived in no time:
And as fast as they arrived, they were gone - without so much as a nod in my direction. Hmmm, the option 2 seemed to be over before it even started - maybe they will stop on the way down, but somehow I felt they will not:
Next one was a gentleman on 690 - he did stop, but probably only because he lost balance at the sight of me. To be fair he checked what is the problem and after I explained problem and possible remedy, he told me to take out not just a steel plate but also one clutch plate, they always need to go together. I remembered it differently from Braam, but who am I to argue so I thanked him and he was on his way up again.
This one is a bit redundant, but I like how it is pixelated:
As you can see here, long legs and small bike are a huge advantage this side. I didn't have that option and had to balance the bike without my legs:
He came back pretty soon, while the first two were still gone - I didn't ask, but assumed that he didn't make it up the staircase, while the other two probably did.
And then the last two arrived - only 5 bikers out of the group of 20 decided to do the VZP trip. These two didn't make it even to where I was - and that is on much lighter and smaller bikes without luggage. And to think that this lot decides the future of the adventure biking market - eish. No wonder that in Europe they consider GS an enduro bike - I'm kidding you not, just check the posters for 800. And no, they didn't ask what is the problem - one of them took picture of my bike though:
I was about to start to finger my clutch again, when a convoy of 11 or so 4x4's came from the top. Bloody hell - one moment you feel like the last man on the planet, and the next it's like the crossing of Rivonia and Greyson drive on workday morning. I was a bit worried that my bike may get overrun as it was taking quite a big part of the narrow track on the outside of the sharp left corner and the other side of the track was pretty gnarly. But the leader of the group - a gentleman from Kempton Park if I remember correctly - assured me that there is plenty of space and - being South African - immediately started to devise a plan for evacuation of me and my bike. He said that they can move something in the bakkies and load the bike into one of them. I quite often see South Africans behaving very deferentially to Europeans like they are something better. I always wonder why - if anything it's the other way around as this episode clearly demonstrates.
But first he had to command his group through the rest of the pass. They had cars on which the low gears didn't work, so he had to pull them out of the dip onto the other hill before final descent. I couldn't work on the bike so I waited while the cars were passing - it took better part of an hour to get 11 cars past and pull them up the other side. This 4x4ing is a slow business indeed.
Here is some 4x4 porn:
And then the rest of Germans came past - as expected leaving me to the vultures:
The 4x4 leader came back to try to see how can we put my bike into one of the bakkies. I hate to be nuisance like this, so I told him I still want to try fix the clutch myself. So he gave me some water and we exchange the Satellite phone numbers - I was to let him know how I ended up and if the bike wouldn't work he will come back to fetch me. They were camping somewhere nearby. Very encouraging meeting people like this.
Once the cars and the bikes were gone, the mountain returned to its solemn solitude and I was properly on my own again. By now it was afternoon and I have lost probably 2 - 3 hours hanging around while all the traffic passed by. Based on the advice of the German guy I took out a metal plate and one clutch plate, assembled everything back together - and no luck. So I disassembled it again and returned the clutch plate back, while keeping the metal one out, assembled it together again - and not luck again.
So with the options 1 & 2 over, it was option 3. I wasn't keen to dis-convenience the gentleman from 4x4 group, so it was time for a hike. Red drum with its little settlement was about 24 km back, Marble Campsite 60 km away, so the best option seemed the village on the top of VZP about 14 km away. I couldn't move the bike so it will have to stay where it is, but I wanted to drag the luggage somewhere where it cannot be spotted easily - I knew there were Himba herdsmen around and I'm sure they could use a lot of the stuff I had - and who could blame them.
As I was looking for the right spot, I've heard once again a sound of a single motorbike from down bellow. Could it be that the Germans just went to fetch their tools or a new clutch?
It turned out to be Fritz - the swiss gentleman on Aprilia RXV I've met first time in the White Lady campsite. He seemed to prefer riding on his own and join the group only for the overnight camp. He did stop to check what is the problem - which I explained in the mix of English, German and pantomime. He said he is going to go to the top and on the way down we will sort it out. Fantastic - in the meantime I disassembled the clutch for the third or fourth time. He was back quickly saying that the steps are quite bad. I told him what I've done and he didn't like the idea of taking out the metal plate. He recommended to take the whole clutch out, clean it properly wiping out the oil and assemble the whole clutch - including the metal plate - back. We did that - and the clutch worked. Bingo!
Of course it was clear even to idiot like me that I cannot continue up the pass and it's time to turn tail. Fritz waited till I packed the bike to escort me back to the Marble Campsite - top gentleman! I packed hastily as I hate to be a burden for somebody else, and we set-off going down. The clutch seemed to be working perfectly and I made it out of that steep dip with no hassle - but then idiotically I missed that new track bypassing the bad section on the top of the hill. I thought it's going to be relatively easy going down, but it wasn't. I eventually ended up walking the bike through few steep dugouts dropping it twice in the process.
After that I made it down without a glitch and without pause pushed as fast as I dared through the valley not to hold Fritz back. At the end of the valley I've stopped to check if he is behind me, which he wasn't so I relaxed seeing that I'm not holding him back. That until I noticed that I'm missing the rollie bag - and there was Fritz coming carrying my bag on his tank. He joking said that this is not my day - well clearly not!
After that we rode without glitch 20 km through to the Red Drum, where I stopped for a drink. Mechanicking whole day on the hot sun took its toll on me and I felt that I was pushing too hard to not inconvenience Fritz. He seen this and asked if it is OK for him to go ahead to Marble camp about 36 km away as he was worried that his guys will start looking for him. He promised to come back should I not make it by nightfall - it was late afternoon now. I agreed immediately - as I said I hate being a burden, and would rather take a risk on my own. I still had to cross the Red Drum pass, but the clutch seemed to hold fine and it wasn't that far from the camp anyway - I could always walk it out.
So Fritz left and I followed after short break. I made it through the Red Drum pass without a glitch and encountered some game along the way:
I've made it back to the campsite still in daylight and to my dismay all the houses on the hill were taken. So out of all days this will be the one when I will camp. Well, better than hiking the VZP, I guess:
Overall, it was a good day. I haven't made it up VZP and now was effectively on the trip of attrition back home. But I've made it back to the camp with burned clutch and the day could have turned out much less comfortable, than it did. There will be another day to ride up the bloody pass...