“After 3 or 4 days, my body will adjust and getting up, packing up and saddling up will stop being a chore. Kyk noord, en...jy weet…”
I kept muttering to myself when the helmet came on. I’d never done a trip like this before - my usual trips last a weekend and they don’t end with, “Lekker slaap, manne. Julle gaan dit nodig he vir more as julle dink vandag was moeilik.”
Especially not when the previous day was a constant stream of soft sand and some loose rocks.
Before Quest I thought my strong area was sand. Most of my - limited - off-road experience came from riding sandy single tracks North of Pretoria, and at first I wasn’t worried about hitting the sand on Quest. But that changed rather quickly when I realised I wasn’t on the 153kg enduro bike (my G650 XChallenge) that I’m used to.
Day 2 was a proper “vuurdoop” for me and the big adventure bike. A baptism I might not have survived without the coaching I received from Andrew and [member=19649]Hardy de Kock[/member] the previous day. Not to mention the constant support of my teammate [member=7846]Sandban(g)k[/member] .
Despite the help from teammates and instructors, I think we were all a bit knackered after day 2’s riding and the, beautiful, rowing that followed.
Day 3 started like most days before and after it: wake-up (at least enough to pack), pack up the stretcher, put on riding gear, have breakfast (including Rehidrate and magnesium supplements), pack up the rest of camp, check in with the teammate (although it was more the other way around), and finally put the helmet on to start the pep talking. The first couple of kilometers are always a bit challenging for me, but after that I usually relax and reality sets in. In this case, reality was that we were riding some of the most beautiful routes in the world, on a bike that I have been dreaming of riding since it was first announced - reality was incredible.
We rode next to the Orange River for a bit and then headed inland to Stone Piles. I had seen piles like these before on hikes, but never this many and such a large area. After riding past them and circling back to stop, Andre and I picked up some rocks to add to the pile. In fact, we started our own pile. I put down a rock to represent my fears and my worries that have been keeping me from just enjoying the trip thus far. I put down a rock for my family. It’s not easy to explain the feeling, but I can tell you that tears filled my eyes, and a sense of relief came over me. I knew that Andre had been wrestling with some thoughts and emotions - leaving his wife and children wasn’t easy, and to make things worse, they weren’t feeling well. I wasn’t sure how to help, but I hoped that the piles would give him some of the sense that I experienced.
We made a video to post on Facebook, but I’m sure the only thing anybody heard on that was the wind. It’s strange, looking back, I don’t think I understood the significance that stop held for each one of us, and I know it was completely lost in the video, but even if we’d tried, we could never have communicated the feeling.
Before we left Stone Piles, the instructors asked us what our feelings were around the landmark, whether we condone the moving of the rocks to build these piles. After each of our experiences there, I’m sure we would all agree that the reward was much greater than the cost.
The rest of the day’s riding was superb (maybe more so in retrospect). It wasn’t easy, but that wasn’t what we came for. Long sections of loose rocks were broken up with patches of sand and sharp turns around brush and trees. Slowly but surely I was regaining some confidence, and all at once it returned after Hardy told me to ride the bike like I would my own bike on the roads I’m used to. [member=22711]Hollywood[/member] did express some concern with my putting my leg out around corners like I was riding an MX bike, and I would tone that down, as we went, in favour of standing, but for a while I felt at home on the big AT. That was, when I wasn’t forgetting the parking break on through sandy patches. Jammer, Honda. :angel5:
About halfway through the day we stopped at the foot of the dreaded off-camber hill-climb. Hardy called us together and asked what was going on, why we were riding so reserved, and why we just didn’t seem to be enjoying it. We were advised to “give it gas” so to speak and just let the bikes do the work that he knew they were capable of. This definitely lifted some spirits and we were ready for the next challenge. More of a challenge for some than other, as you’ll soon find out.
Andre and I were riding somewhere in the middle of the pack that day, and I would later wonder what conspiracy it was that placed us so perfectly towards the rear in the challenging bits.
Behind us was Rickus and Pierre - always willing to help calm my nerves by explaining to me that it really wasn’t as difficult as they were making it sound. Cool, sounds like I’ll be fine. “Just remember to look up, and keep a nice constant throttle.” I set off with all my traction control settings and everything the way I had liked throughout the day and everything seemed to be going fine - riding on the “bloedkant” as Kobus told us, and looking up. Just before reaching the final - loose rocks, off-camber, deadly - climb, I had crossed over to the other side of the road, but I quickly corrected the mistake and got my stance back. What happened next is a bit of a blur unfortunately. I began moving my gaze up to the crest of the climb, and eased into the throttle, but the next thing I knew, my front wheel wasn’t on the road anymore and my worst fear had just become a reality - I was shooting down the side of a mountain. And this wasn’t one of those hills you see in the green laning videos from Scotland or England - no soft landings here. I had a moment to collect my thought and decide what to do next before the bike would hit a wall of solid rock and I would likely break many, many, bones. And so, for the first time in the couple of years I’ve been riding, I jumped off of my bike. I don’t mean those dance moves we all have indulged in on occasion where we end with a beautiful landing and laugh it off. I mean I jumped backwards, away from the bike, knowing full well my landing would be anything but graceful or funny. At the time, I didn’t realise this, but right after I bailed, the bike hit a rock and flipped right over me. I was hurt, and I was pretty sure the bike was broken (thus ending my Quest), but by some miracle I hadn’t broken anything.
All the guys who had gone before me came streaming down the mountain to help, Willie the brilliant camera man, in front. I didn’t hear it during the crash, but he was apparently shouting for me to stop when I went over the side - I shouldv'e listened. Denzil “How does he do it?” Lawrie rode the bike out of those gigantic rocks and up to the top. I don’t remember if I thanked everyone properly for getting the bike to the top, but thank you. If it wasn’t for you guys, that bike might have ended up on the back of a Cruiser and me in front.
Our faithful guardian angel, Ockie, checked me out, gave me the thumbs up, and I was back on the bike. I was shaken pretty bad, and disappointed in myself that I couldn’t share the sense of accomplishment that the others had. I felt that Hardy and the team must see that they had made a mistake to choose me - my poor teammate didn’t deserve this. Negativity abounded, but I knew that the only way forward was to get back on that bike, and ride it until I could think of nothing else but the next turn, or my next line. Andre was incredible, and he just kept checking to see if I was okay to ride. I was okay to ride, but there wasn’t a quiet moment between myself and I in that helmet for a couple of days.
The rest of the ride was a bit painful for me as I had bruised a good portion of my left side (and my ego), but nothing I couldn’t ride through. Besides, the scenery soon became some of the most beautiful I had ever seen - in real life or on pictures. I did have to tell myself to not look down every now and then - there was more than enough “bloedkant” to keep me on my toes.
When we reached camp, Hardy called Andre and me closer and told me I looked tired and it’s getting me in trouble. I would have argued, but I was too tired.
Pierre and Andre let me and Rickus take the first shift of the nightwatch to let us get to bed earlier. Ek is opreg baie dankbaar gewees om sulke manne om my te he. Dankie, julle.
After making sure there was wood in the “donkie” and fetching a sleeping pill from [member=4807]Losper[/member] , I bedded down. The sleeping pill helped - the tent-breaking wind did not.
All in all, it was a challenging day to say the least. I still don’t know exactly why I went over the side of that mountain, and you can bet I’ll be back there to conquer it one day. But, as Hardy reminded me, it was a day I would remember for the rest of my life, and I spent it with incredible people.
