Into Africa - DASKOP's 12000km drive

[DASKOP]

Side stand switch ...?

:ricky:

No my boet, if only I were so lucky.

Forgot to mention, that was one of the first things that I considered, but if it was the side stand switch, it would not even go CLICK. It cuts power completely and the starter would not be turning over.

No Ian, it was the start of a saga. Or lets call it an adventure within an adventure. An unexpected twist!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

[DASKOP]

Time for some exploring. Maybe it will put my predicament into a more rational perspective for me to deal with.

BIGGEST LESSON LEARNED..............NEVER, AND I MEAN NEVER BE WITHOUT COMMUNICATIONS.

 

[DASKOP]

Scene from the lake. I need this serene scene just to calm me down a bit.

 

[n0b0dy]

Eish

 

[DASKOP]

Eish

Met eish ja, met eish.

Vir die nervous nerves, jy weet mos.

 

[DASKOP]

No matter what, you cannot deny the scenic attraction of this place.



If those damn guinea fowl would just stop screaming.

 

[DASKOP]

I think I must have driven Miguel crazy trying to determine when his boss was arriving. He was very patient with me. Assuring me that his boss was definitely coming. He had some guests arriving later and he had to be there.

And then he arrived. Carlos. The owner of Mira Chicamba, who spoke very good English. An absolute gentleman, as you will soon realise for yourselves.

 

[DASKOP]

I explain my problem to Carlos and he generously gives me his phone to use. I phone Alan Lewis Motorcycles in PE to explain the symptoms of my bikes problem.

The phoning alone was a challenge as we would lose signal just as we get to a crucial part of the conversation. Then Lorraine would try to phone back on the landline.

It was all a bit frustrating.

It became clear though, that the problem that I was experiencing was mentioned to me as a possibility long before. When Alan was prepping my bike for the long trip, I asked him what could possibly go wrong and what spare parts should I take with.

He mentioned this specific part..................................................

I hope that Alan and Lorraine will jump in here and give their version from the other side of the phone.

 

[AlanPE]

Well! Here we are on a Saturday pm and saw a missed call from some strange overseas number  and then heard the message on the phone :dousing: :deal: :dousing:
When we heard it was Marius and what he told us what was the problem we knew immediately!
Every GS riders nightmare - THE FUEL PRESSURE SENSOR! And with the sub standard fuel available in some areas just adding to the problem!
Luckily we have our landline open to make International calls so after quite a long time trying we get through to Marius we got him on the line but it was too dark for him to see so we arranged that he phone us at 8am and we would talk him through
The next morning A tells him what to do.
We are being cut off and phoning again and talking a bit but eventually get the message over to him what he needs to do.... now we sit and wait as he has to make this "fix" and then let us know... as you all know - No news is good news!

 

[DASKOP]

Alan might as well,at that stage, have tried to explain to me that the exhaust brake regulator stipulator had copulated with the central shock vibrator interceder diminisher continuator which resulted in the complete failure of the thingamagogchic, as my complete lack of interest, to my detriment, of anything mechanical, renders my understanding of such matters as non-existent, hence the reaction of "HUH?".

With the attending of the problem at hand being postponed to the next day due the eventual lack of light and very intermittent communication, let me relate the happenings going on during this prolonged attempt to find a solution to my problem.

Firstly let me commend dear Carlos on his patience with me and total commitment to getting my problem sorted.

I was sitting in the shade brooding over my problems when Carlos sent someone to fetch me, to join him and some friends, from the hydro dam, for lunch. They prepared the most delectable pork chops and their hospitality was absolutely amazing. Only Carlos spoke English. Everyone else Portuguese. But we had a great time.

Then came the Manhica. The beer from a very dark and dangerous place. Not very evident at first. But I was really enjoying the company of my three new mates, even although our conversation was mostly by means of signs and gestures with some interpretation from Carlos or Miguel, this was just what I needed to lift my spirits and take a break from my pre-occupation with the bike problem.

And I have not had this type of liquid intake practice for 9 years.              :bar:

I did not know that it is custom, that if you say "CHEERS", YOU HAVE TO TAKE A BIG SWIG BEFORE PUTTING THE GLASS DOWN. This was to be my downfall. I kept on forgetting to take a swig and then had to down the remainder of the glass, just to have it promptly filled again. I think after a while, everything was numb, so no matter how much more Manhica was added, the inevitable outcome was set in concrete.

Despite that, these okes were a hoot and genuinely a pleasure to spend time with.

One of them still had to do night shift at the hydro dam.  

ccasion14:

You can therefore understand that all of this also contributed to the "HUH" mentioned above.

???

 

[DASKOP]

My three new mates Vanigildo, Benedito and Jose. Or was it Jose, Vanigildo and Benedito................... Benedito, Jose and Vanigildo?

Anyway, there were 3 of them and those are the names I was given.                        :dontknow:

 

[DASKOP]

Then, during all of the festivities that were going on, there is a sudden shriek of utter fear, followed by shouts and people scattering.

The reason......................a snake sailed between the legs of one of the female patrons sitting at a table next to us. I just managed to get these shots before the snake was pummeled to death by a staff member with a stick long enough to keep him very far from harm.

New reason for some more refreshments............settle the nerves.

 

[DASKOP]

The festivities continued into the night against the continuous backdrop of those bloody screeching guinea fowl.

We were once again treated to a spectacular sunset.

 

[AlanPE]

Don't you know its call the "Zynthinum Valve with the Gurgitator"?

 

[n0b0dy]

Hehehehe

 

[DASKOP]

Breakdown at Mira Chicamba.

The sequencing detailed above is slightly out. On Saturday, I spoke to Alan. He immediately identified the problem as the FUEL PRESSURE SENSOR.

His instructions………..remove the old sensor, that triangular looking little boxy thingy inside the round ring on top of the fuel pump that is in the fuel tank (which took me a while to find, I am embarrassed but have to be honest about my total lack of knowledge in this regard) and then get a direct power supply onto the fuel pump. I got that all done, after making 100% sure I was removing the correct item and finding some electrical wire after one helluva search all over Mira Chicamba's property. I got the black on the negative and the red on the positive on the battery and then connected the other ends to the blue and the yellow on the fuel pump as instructed.  When I put the power on, I could hear the pump turning (above the continuous cacophony created by the irritating, brain penetrating screeching of the guinea fowl), but the bike just turned over and did not want to start.

Now, remember, there were numerous phone calls during this sequence of events, not many of them successful, as mentioned earlier, because of a bad connection or the call just failing. Anyhow, then it became too dark to continue and the long distance rescue operation was postponed to the next day.

Sunday.

The Manhica is now having its revenge on me. And those bloody guinea fowl will not shut up. My head is pounding, I feel like a hippo had trampled me. NAAR does not describe how I feel.

And my bike will not start. With all the trying, the battery is now flat. No one has jumper cables.

Some Sunday lunch guests arrive, including my new buddies from the previous night. Still no jumper cables anywhere.

Spoke to Lorraine a few times, but we are getting nowhere, as a flat battery prevents any possibility of a solution being found. Carlos says that he will try to get someone from the hydro dam village to recharge the battery, if they are there, but he first has to go and collect some special traditionally raised chickens from another village to prepare for special guests that were arriving later.

Well, I had nowhere to go, so I will have to wait. Flat battery…………I am truly screwed. Then the wife of one of my new mates arrives with a Jeep. He produces some jumper cables, well his version of jumper cables. Just bare copper cables with some plastic wrapped around close to the ends. What the hell, let’s give it a go. Nothing.

I will have to wait for Carlos.

I need to get my pounding head away from the evil guinea fowl and decide to take a walk down the road to the dam wall. Hopefully, somewhere in that small village is someone that will be able to charge my bike battery and we are then going to find a miracle cure for my bike's ailment.

And I will be on my merry way............... :ricky:

 

[n0b0dy]

Daskopf - You coould have been stuck at a much worse place ne...

 

[cruizaman]

The suspense is killing us!! What happened next?  :eek7:

 

[DASKOP]

Daskopf - You coould have been stuck at a much worse place ne...

I agree, I might have stayed there permanently, if it was not for those cursed screeching guinea fowl.  :biggrin:

 

[DASKOP]

That easy, it was definitely not going to be.

At the dam, I come across 5 white people in a bakkie. I ask the question, no jumper leads. Sorry, and off they go.

I walk back to the lodge and see that the 5 are now sitting under one of the gazebos having drinks. From what I can gather, they must also have had a serious encounter the night before as one of them comes and talks to the porcelain bowl in the ablutions right next to where I am sitting at my bike, licking my wounds.

Carlos arrives back with the chickens. They looked ordinary to me, but what would I know. But now, Carlos has to prepare the chickens for his special guests in the traditional way and I will just have to wait. Then Carlos organizes one of his friends to take the battery down to the village to have it charged.

I am still sitting next to my bike, when one of the white guys comes to me and asks me how I plan to get  out of my predicament. I need to get to Chimoio. It has become apparent that Mira Chicamba Lodge will be deserted by the following day and I will have limited options available to me to get my bike attended to. I have already been through it in my mind of how I was going to walk the 50 km back to Chimoio, hire a bakkie to fetch the bike and then scour the area for someone who will be able to repair a BMW motorbike. No problem. Nothing daunting about this, hey?

Right now I have an alternative option as the man suggests that we load the bike on the back of the bakkie and find someone in Chimoio to repair it. I accepted his offer gratefully.

Then everything happened at a frenetic pace. I inform Carlos that I am leaving, but now my battery is in the village. He arranges for us to pick it up at the gate of the hydro complex on our way back. Then I ask him if he can wait for the payment of my bill until my bike is fixed. Then I can get to a bank to draw money and then phone him to meet somewhere in Chimoio. No problem is his reply. What more can I say about this man?

I pack my stuff in record time. I am getting out of here.

I officially get to meet my rescuers. A farmer from Mutare in Zimbabwe, his wife  (fiancé/girlfriend, not too sure), a Mozambique farmer (the driver of the bakkie) and two pilots who fly for Moz Beef. The one is a chopper pilot and the other a fixed wing pilot from Lorraine in PE just around the corner from where I live. Small world.

There is no ramp and no planks to get the bike onto the bakkie. No problem to the Moz farmer who reverses the bakkie over some rocks and stuff, under a tree up against a big rock. Now we have to maneuver this unresponsive heavy beast up the incline, under the tree and over the rocks onto the back of the bakkie. I only have my Crocs on and with the manhandling of the bike, the side stand slices open the top of my foot.

Never mind, the bike is on.

Now, remember, for those who have followed this RR from the beginning, I specially mentioned the ratchet tie-downs that I bought in Upington.

Now I am glad that I bought them.