frankmac said:
Glad you enjoy it :biggrin:
Infernal Interlude: Crazy Glue Family Ride (December 2020)
- Thread starter Ri
- Start date
Glad you enjoy it :biggrin:
Thanks for Sharing.
I love the Karoo!!
Your pictures bring back so many good memories. :thumleft:
I love the Karoo!!
Your pictures bring back so many good memories. :thumleft:
What an awesome lekker family tour! Wow lekker memories being made there. Thanks for sharing! So nicely written, and those roads look so inviting.
BOZO said:
OomD said:
Thanks Guys.
I love the Karoo but at 40+ degrees with no shade it can be brutal. It makes up for it though, in surprising ways. If we'd gone the way we'd discussed, it would have been much more scenic. I rode a route very similar to in September 2019, except I didn't go straight to Niewoudtville like we had planned; I turned left and then at Botterkloof turned right up Moedverloor? Misverstand? Now THERE is a beautiful little road, [member=15022]OomD[/member]
One of the other options we'd considered was going over Uitspankraal and then out to Citrusdal, but the Ecosport wouldn't have made it. Pity. My bro-in-law was super keen to find a road from Klawer to Gifberg, but there's no way to cross the river there.
Hmmm..... I'd taken leave day for 1st weekend in August for the Thumper Bash, but it was postponed. Maybe I should head out to Uitspankraal
'Tis the day after Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, except for Ri Bikermouse;
Boxing Day falls on a Saturday this year, and after our amazing Christmas dinner of rabbit thigh no one is in a hurry to hop to it, but I need to get home to go back to work on Monday. I planned a nice route the long way down all along the west coast, starting with breakfast at Lambertsbaai, and am eager to be on my way.
It is a beautiful balmy day and the place I choose for breakfast, on the harbour of Lambertsbaai, is pumping. They squeeze me in at a small table at the front of the patio with a good view of my bike, and I order a salmon rösti and a big strong coffee. While I wait, a man approaches from outside and in careful platteland English asks me where I'm from? He'd read about or seen on TV this German girl who is touring South Africa on a motorbike, by herself.
I feel bad about bursting his bubble, and kindly say, "Ek is baie plaaslik, Omie, ek is maar net van Kaapstad af". We chat for a bit and then he leaves me to my breakfast.
Boxing Day falls on a Saturday this year, and after our amazing Christmas dinner of rabbit thigh no one is in a hurry to hop to it, but I need to get home to go back to work on Monday. I planned a nice route the long way down all along the west coast, starting with breakfast at Lambertsbaai, and am eager to be on my way.
It is a beautiful balmy day and the place I choose for breakfast, on the harbour of Lambertsbaai, is pumping. They squeeze me in at a small table at the front of the patio with a good view of my bike, and I order a salmon rösti and a big strong coffee. While I wait, a man approaches from outside and in careful platteland English asks me where I'm from? He'd read about or seen on TV this German girl who is touring South Africa on a motorbike, by herself.
I feel bad about bursting his bubble, and kindly say, "Ek is baie plaaslik, Omie, ek is maar net van Kaapstad af". We chat for a bit and then he leaves me to my breakfast.
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The previous time I'd visited this restuarant was with Wayne, when I'd stayed at Nama Bike Camp and he'd shown me around the area. We only had a beer and left again, which is probably why I didn't notice the HUGE number of birds circling just off the coast. It turns out to be a bird sanctuary aptly called "Bird Island", and for a small fee I can go take a look around.
The sheer number of birds breeding on a few small rocks along the harbour is staggering, almost as staggering as their stench and I curse my sensitive nose, trying to mouth breathe very shallowly. They feed (haha) a carefully managed guano industry. Judging by the smell, the scrapers are probably still on holiday. But I'd paid my R50 bucks, I'm determined to get an eyeful of bird. The place is very nicely laid out with lovely walkways and information plaques, and people stroll around with screaming kiddies around their knees, indistinguishable from the cacophony of the birds wheeling a short distance away.
The sheer number of birds breeding on a few small rocks along the harbour is staggering, almost as staggering as their stench and I curse my sensitive nose, trying to mouth breathe very shallowly. They feed (haha) a carefully managed guano industry. Judging by the smell, the scrapers are probably still on holiday. But I'd paid my R50 bucks, I'm determined to get an eyeful of bird. The place is very nicely laid out with lovely walkways and information plaques, and people stroll around with screaming kiddies around their knees, indistinguishable from the cacophony of the birds wheeling a short distance away.
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Along the way, a young man, hand-in-hand with his girlfriend, stops me to chat eagerly about my bike and biking in general, clearly envious not to be riding bike himself at that moment. I stand bareheaded, sizzling gently in the sun, sweating in my boots, my foot throbbing viciously, and sagely agree that yes, biking is the best...!
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Soon I'm on my bike and on my way.
My coastal route doesn't work out, as my map app tries to route me along a train service road with big NO ENTRY signs. The road seems to be in good shape, but since I'm on my own and didn't tell my family my route (I'm responsible like that) I decide to be more prudent and stick to tar. I reroute in the general direction I want to go along tar, when the next hiccup comes. Literally. Blue starts to hiccup and hoes, miss-firing slighly and struggling just a tad to start. I remember my recent misfortune with a clogged petcock, and switch to reserve.
I decide that it's best to head straight home and turn back towards the N7 a bit miserably. Ah well. There will be other rides.
My coastal route doesn't work out, as my map app tries to route me along a train service road with big NO ENTRY signs. The road seems to be in good shape, but since I'm on my own and didn't tell my family my route (I'm responsible like that) I decide to be more prudent and stick to tar. I reroute in the general direction I want to go along tar, when the next hiccup comes. Literally. Blue starts to hiccup and hoes, miss-firing slighly and struggling just a tad to start. I remember my recent misfortune with a clogged petcock, and switch to reserve.
I decide that it's best to head straight home and turn back towards the N7 a bit miserably. Ah well. There will be other rides.
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