At Uniondale we turn into the garage to fill up our thirsty steeds, and run into an old friend - Reneé aka the one and only Dusty. She is accompanied by some new non-Dog friends: Sonja on a stripped-down bare-bones XT250, at only 5 months new to adventure riding but already owning it, and Frikkie on an XR650L. His eyes stretch when he spots the Hooligan's large tank, but he's not a talkative guy and gives us a wide berth.
After a quick hug and chat and hallo's all around, they are on their way again. We fill up and I hit the ablutions and the liquor store - for bottled water.
Then we head into the (for me) unknown - Baviaanskloof!
While we stop and take photo's of this momentous occasion, many bikes whizz past on the tar towards the next entrance into Baviaans, which apparently joins the road we are on. Why would you choose to race on tar when you could swing on gravel?
Soon we run into the famous and the infamous. A sight not seen in quite some time - Boere on a motorbike!
At the next intersection, we run into some more infamous bikers - Ball and Chain and Oom Pad, tarring their lungs. We shoot the breeze for a bit, and then head off on the final leg of our day's trip to Doornkloof Camp.
On our way, we pass Reneé, Sonja and Frikkie stationary next to the road, but they have amassed quite a following by that time so I just wave and continue on my way. I'm in front when we reach Doornkloof's entrance and come to a sliding stop, and a BMW rider stops at the same time from the opposite direction, followed shortly by another BMW rider. I'm waiting for Tony and Brian to catch up, and gesture for them to continue, but they insist on waving me in. Tony arrives, assesses the situation quickly and heads down the entrance slowly.
I follow quickly so as not to hold up the Beemers, but find myself 2nd gear and standing, unable to gear down, bearing down on Tony's slow rear tire with alacrity. I choose the rougher of the 2-spoor so as not to rear-end him, and quickly bump and grind over the riverbed and sandy stretches with tight turns, praying for balance and salvation.
Why people fear Smitskraal so much I'll never know - the entrance to Doornkraal, especially when it is under water like in 2016, is purgatory! I pop out the other side of the tree-lined driveway as if I popped out of a supertube, elated, and head over the wide grassy park to find my camping spot.
Tony and Brian had sensibly booked chalets, but I was going to milk this experience to the last freezing drop and had opted to tent. I ride to where I camped last time, and find Andy660 nearby. He summarily commands me and takes over setting up of my camp site, calling in nearest and dearest (thanks Grant) to unpack and unroll for me while we stand chatting, catching up on our rides. Soon my little tent is standing and I puff a few lungs full of air into my blow up mattress and throw it inside. I unpack a few things from the panniers and also throw them inside.
Reneé and friends also arrive, and set up camp a short space away. They sensibly immediately head for the showers, while I head for the bar, like any self-respecting Dog.
eepwall: 
