I like your style J-Dog. Give it horns bru. :hello2:
Seeing I wont be able to make it, I'll be living the dream through your story.
Seeing I wont be able to make it, I'll be living the dream through your story.
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subscribe :ricky:
Beserker
Grey Hound
J-dog said:
Well...we know you ain't p03513 :headbang:
Just Blip It!
Race Dog
Holding thumbs for you J-Dog! :thumleft: Subscribed!!!
Smuggy
Race Dog
:happy1:
douw
Race Dog
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Sitting at home in front of my fireplace..... thinking of you !! All the best china !!
Padrone
Race Dog
I survived J-Dog at the RR last year :ricky: it was a challange having him in the group >
Give it horns this year and dont break anything :laughing4:
Give it horns this year and dont break anything :laughing4:
spoedvark
Grey Hound
subscribed!!!
GlenInk (R.I.P)
Race Dog
???
777
Race Dog
J Dog- took your old 690 to Alfie cox for the new speedo to be fitted under warntee, he rembered the bike and you and sends his regards!!!
Cacher
Pack Dog
Now this looks like it is going to produce some interresting tales and good laughs.... Keep it coming J-Dog!!
JERINOMO
Race Dog
GlenInk said:
Isn't that Rocstompa in the background?
GlenInk (R.I.P)
Race Dog
J-mo said:GlenInk said:
Isn't that Rocstompa in the background?
:thumleft:
T
terminator1
Guest
Looking forward to the rest J-dog :thumleft:
Poetic.
GlenInk (R.I.P)
Race Dog
Where is the rest ? ???
T
terminator1
Guest
mmm...my server is down. Please check back in a short while to see the pics ???
T
terminator1
Guest
Most viewers of websites and forums skim, scan and scroll to the interesting parts, so I won't bore you with my musings. Suffice to mention that the road from Port Elizabeth to War Trail is long and beautiful. One of our crew insisted on trailering his bike to the Raid, and this resulted in a late departure around 10am. We would only arrive at the venue at sundown. HOWEVER, the late ride was well worth the luxuries we were able to stuff into the back of the bakkie. I'll tell you why this made the trip so much more pleasant later.
Here are a (very) few pics of the scenery on the way. We wanted to ride fast and I wanted to save the camera for later.
We arrived at the campsite at dark. This year the staging point was on a farm in War trail. You'll see pics of the setup a bit later, but for now, it's dark and cold, and we had to errect our tents quickly. The frost was beginning to fall, and the temperature had fallen from around 12 degrees to below zero in a matter of minutes. This pic was shortly after we arrived and centre-stage is Navigator fiddling with his kit with numb fingers. I cleverly used the orange headlight of my 950 to set up my nest. First mistake.
Soon we made our way to the fire to wait for supper and the rider's briefing for tomorrow. ScubaAl is on the left. Steve had brought along a couple of bottles of a very old red wine, which he claimed was very expensive and only affordable by a few wealthy entrepeurs. To be honest, it tasted like Old Brown Sherry, but I assured him it was delicious and very refined. Another clue that it was Obies was the (welcome) warm glow in my tummy after a few sips. The bottle is on the ground in the picture
Navigator giving the "schweet my mate" sign for the camera. An interesting observation here is the bent middle finger. Navigator is susceptible to what he calls AAA - Arsehole Abrasion Agony, and I'm pretty sure he had just administered a generous dollop of special lube with that very finger. Gross. I almost got sick in my mouth.
This is Rocstompa showing us what he looks like during a wet dream.
An hour or two after sunset, and the frost is already forming on the bakkie and tents
Navigator showing off his KTM (behind my orange KTM) which he has named "Le Persheron", a powerful french draft horse originating from Arabian breeding stock. This represents the indomitable character of his 950 - a veteran of 5 Rallye Raids and interminable abuse...
Tomorrow would be the ultimate test of Le Percheron's stoutness
After supper and the rider's briefing (and a few frothy cokes) it was off to bed in anticipation of an early start. Back to the point about the bakkie and extra luxuries. Here is a rather unpleasant picture of me in my tent, with sleeping bag, duvet and a pillow. You know that deep and satisfying post-coital blissful slumber? Snug as a bug in a rug, and not even disturbed by the symphony of old men snoring all around me. The temperature now minus 9.5, proving that global warming hasn't reached wartrail.
7am. Bliksem cold, but a clear day with no fog or clouds and the promise of a good day's riding ahead.
Temperature still below minus 5 degrees
A view from the barn, looking down on the backup tents (medics, rescue vehicles, mechanics and tyre fitters)
The camping field with the mountains of Lesotho (Glen?) in the background. Simply beautiful.
The big guy about to , err...visit the facilities, and then re-apply the triple A preventative lube.
Yeeha!! breakfast, small talk and gearing up all done with, and we hit the road, for what would be a great day. Let me choose my adjectives expediently:
astonishingly beautiful...exceptionally liberating and frightfully testing...
We started off on the road towards the Naude's Nek cattle tracks and the eventual descent into Rhodes.
This could be Scotland (pronounced "scortlind")
starting to get a little more remote
This pic was taken shortly after Harry's fall in a ditch filled with mud and ice. Sadly, I didn't get the picture of him sitting on his arse in a puddle of mud slush puppy. By now we were quite high up in the mountains. The riding was slow, but fairly easy as long as you took it easy through the slush and the off-camber rock slopes - also adorned with ice.
Mud, mud, glorious mud. There's nothing quite like it for...oh come on JD, get on with the story.
I've just remembered why I took that last shot of the front of my bike. A slight but persistent clunking had been coming from the front end during the 8 hour ride from PE to Wartrail the previous day. I assumed it was the neck bearings, and that it would'nt worry me too much during the Raid.
However, it had become progressively worse, and by the time we got to 50km from Rhodes, it felt like the whole front end of the bike was going to fall off. We had climbed some very tough slopes by now, with large rocks and ledges, and that seemed to have broken something. There was also a bad wobble on the front - particularly after each bang from a hole or a rock.
Ag, what the hell - no way was I going to miss the day's riding. After all, I'd ridden 700km to get there, and who needs a front end anyway.
On the way down to Rhodes, we crossed this little stream. As I was thirsty (no beer in my pocket) I lay down with my head in the water and drank up the icy mountain water. It was sweet and refreshing – way nicer than the stuff that comes out of our taps. I did, however, notice one of the riders taking a leak upstream, but I assumed it would be diluted enough to not activate my taste buds.
Absolutely stunning. It’s hard to express the serenity of these places.
Just a few more shots at the top before the descent, showing the Naude’s Nek sign and the spears of ice threatening any passers-by who might take the cold lightly
Some Rallye Raid 2 riders zoom past me, ready for lunch in Rhodes. We’d been riding through mud and ice for roughly 4 hours by then, and I could understand their rush to refuel man and bike.
A river runs along the bottom of the “Rhodes” valley, on the right as you drop out of the sky down toward the town. This guy’s front lawn is simply to die for darling...
Well here we are...the Rhodes hotel. The Rhodes hotel established in 1899 was, as is the case today built to act as a comfortable haven to explore the then wild frontier from. Traders and farmers from across the region gambled and cajoled in the legendary De Wydeman pub. Several fortunes were won and lost on these jovial evenings. The pub, beautifully restored, still offers visitors a glimpse into the past.
Roughly half of the riders had already rumbled into the town, and we were treated to a burger and chips, with a very sweet sauce, which reminded me of boiled caramel, or whatever that stuff in cans we used to eat was.
We also got to meet the red bull girls and drink a free red bull shot of something quite revolting. I was assured that it would do me good, but I can’t imagine how anything so foul could have any goodness in it at all. Perhaps they spilt some of it on their red bull blow up arch, which had collapsed into a heap.
After lunch and a few beers, we headed out toward Masheshe’s ford, crossing the river over the bridge and down towards the river crossing which would lead up to the legendary cave steps.
We then hit a bit of a snag. The river before the caves was swollen due to recent rains. It was fairly deep and there was a brisk current. The opposite bank was also steep and muddy, making the exit rather...erm...tricky
Casualties amounted to some very wet and muddy riders, and a few drowned bikes. Not to worry, we had some experts bike medics around, and they were soon up and running again
After a breather on the opposite bank, we looked up towards the “cave steps” – we had to reach the top of that hill before they even began.
There were some fun and games getting there. I’m not sure 210kg bikes were designed to go through places like this, but there was no other way – bully the behemoths through the trouble. “Point and squirt” as my friend Len suggests.
Just when you thought you had completed the first stage, there were some ledges to negotiate
Looking back down to the river crossing, where more riders were trying to negotiate the depth and muddy banks
Up towards the cave steps, my KTM decided it was time for a little rest. Good idea! I was also pooped and needed a little breather
The approach to the steps was a little tricky as well
A wide eyed Navigator looking for his line
Well, we had made it through the first day. After the cave there was a long mud-bath to cross, some fields and about 10km of single track. This pic is taken at the top of the cave steps after the mud. Man and machine triumphant.
Well, almost. It was right then that Harry’s bike also needed a little sleep and the other bikes followed suit. Can’t blame them really. They were mercilessly bullied through rocks, rivers, mud and ice, and all in all did a jolly good job.
Back at base camp, we had a little sunlight left in which to hand up our wet clothes and boots before the frost returned that night. There were a number of broken bikes limping into camp, including mine – broken neck bearings, two missing indicators, smashed mirror and a ripped Hyde cover. Just about normal for the Raid.
Now THIS is a beautiful sight. They just look they belong there?
Here are a (very) few pics of the scenery on the way. We wanted to ride fast and I wanted to save the camera for later.
We arrived at the campsite at dark. This year the staging point was on a farm in War trail. You'll see pics of the setup a bit later, but for now, it's dark and cold, and we had to errect our tents quickly. The frost was beginning to fall, and the temperature had fallen from around 12 degrees to below zero in a matter of minutes. This pic was shortly after we arrived and centre-stage is Navigator fiddling with his kit with numb fingers. I cleverly used the orange headlight of my 950 to set up my nest. First mistake.
Soon we made our way to the fire to wait for supper and the rider's briefing for tomorrow. ScubaAl is on the left. Steve had brought along a couple of bottles of a very old red wine, which he claimed was very expensive and only affordable by a few wealthy entrepeurs. To be honest, it tasted like Old Brown Sherry, but I assured him it was delicious and very refined. Another clue that it was Obies was the (welcome) warm glow in my tummy after a few sips. The bottle is on the ground in the picture
Navigator giving the "schweet my mate" sign for the camera. An interesting observation here is the bent middle finger. Navigator is susceptible to what he calls AAA - Arsehole Abrasion Agony, and I'm pretty sure he had just administered a generous dollop of special lube with that very finger. Gross. I almost got sick in my mouth.
This is Rocstompa showing us what he looks like during a wet dream.
An hour or two after sunset, and the frost is already forming on the bakkie and tents
Navigator showing off his KTM (behind my orange KTM) which he has named "Le Persheron", a powerful french draft horse originating from Arabian breeding stock. This represents the indomitable character of his 950 - a veteran of 5 Rallye Raids and interminable abuse...
Tomorrow would be the ultimate test of Le Percheron's stoutness
After supper and the rider's briefing (and a few frothy cokes) it was off to bed in anticipation of an early start. Back to the point about the bakkie and extra luxuries. Here is a rather unpleasant picture of me in my tent, with sleeping bag, duvet and a pillow. You know that deep and satisfying post-coital blissful slumber? Snug as a bug in a rug, and not even disturbed by the symphony of old men snoring all around me. The temperature now minus 9.5, proving that global warming hasn't reached wartrail.
7am. Bliksem cold, but a clear day with no fog or clouds and the promise of a good day's riding ahead.
Temperature still below minus 5 degrees
A view from the barn, looking down on the backup tents (medics, rescue vehicles, mechanics and tyre fitters)
The camping field with the mountains of Lesotho (Glen?) in the background. Simply beautiful.
The big guy about to , err...visit the facilities, and then re-apply the triple A preventative lube.
Yeeha!! breakfast, small talk and gearing up all done with, and we hit the road, for what would be a great day. Let me choose my adjectives expediently:
astonishingly beautiful...exceptionally liberating and frightfully testing...
We started off on the road towards the Naude's Nek cattle tracks and the eventual descent into Rhodes.
This could be Scotland (pronounced "scortlind")
starting to get a little more remote
This pic was taken shortly after Harry's fall in a ditch filled with mud and ice. Sadly, I didn't get the picture of him sitting on his arse in a puddle of mud slush puppy. By now we were quite high up in the mountains. The riding was slow, but fairly easy as long as you took it easy through the slush and the off-camber rock slopes - also adorned with ice.
Mud, mud, glorious mud. There's nothing quite like it for...oh come on JD, get on with the story.
I've just remembered why I took that last shot of the front of my bike. A slight but persistent clunking had been coming from the front end during the 8 hour ride from PE to Wartrail the previous day. I assumed it was the neck bearings, and that it would'nt worry me too much during the Raid.
However, it had become progressively worse, and by the time we got to 50km from Rhodes, it felt like the whole front end of the bike was going to fall off. We had climbed some very tough slopes by now, with large rocks and ledges, and that seemed to have broken something. There was also a bad wobble on the front - particularly after each bang from a hole or a rock.
Ag, what the hell - no way was I going to miss the day's riding. After all, I'd ridden 700km to get there, and who needs a front end anyway.
On the way down to Rhodes, we crossed this little stream. As I was thirsty (no beer in my pocket) I lay down with my head in the water and drank up the icy mountain water. It was sweet and refreshing – way nicer than the stuff that comes out of our taps. I did, however, notice one of the riders taking a leak upstream, but I assumed it would be diluted enough to not activate my taste buds.
Absolutely stunning. It’s hard to express the serenity of these places.
Just a few more shots at the top before the descent, showing the Naude’s Nek sign and the spears of ice threatening any passers-by who might take the cold lightly
Some Rallye Raid 2 riders zoom past me, ready for lunch in Rhodes. We’d been riding through mud and ice for roughly 4 hours by then, and I could understand their rush to refuel man and bike.
A river runs along the bottom of the “Rhodes” valley, on the right as you drop out of the sky down toward the town. This guy’s front lawn is simply to die for darling...
Well here we are...the Rhodes hotel. The Rhodes hotel established in 1899 was, as is the case today built to act as a comfortable haven to explore the then wild frontier from. Traders and farmers from across the region gambled and cajoled in the legendary De Wydeman pub. Several fortunes were won and lost on these jovial evenings. The pub, beautifully restored, still offers visitors a glimpse into the past.
Roughly half of the riders had already rumbled into the town, and we were treated to a burger and chips, with a very sweet sauce, which reminded me of boiled caramel, or whatever that stuff in cans we used to eat was.
We also got to meet the red bull girls and drink a free red bull shot of something quite revolting. I was assured that it would do me good, but I can’t imagine how anything so foul could have any goodness in it at all. Perhaps they spilt some of it on their red bull blow up arch, which had collapsed into a heap.
After lunch and a few beers, we headed out toward Masheshe’s ford, crossing the river over the bridge and down towards the river crossing which would lead up to the legendary cave steps.
We then hit a bit of a snag. The river before the caves was swollen due to recent rains. It was fairly deep and there was a brisk current. The opposite bank was also steep and muddy, making the exit rather...erm...tricky
Casualties amounted to some very wet and muddy riders, and a few drowned bikes. Not to worry, we had some experts bike medics around, and they were soon up and running again
After a breather on the opposite bank, we looked up towards the “cave steps” – we had to reach the top of that hill before they even began.
There were some fun and games getting there. I’m not sure 210kg bikes were designed to go through places like this, but there was no other way – bully the behemoths through the trouble. “Point and squirt” as my friend Len suggests.
Just when you thought you had completed the first stage, there were some ledges to negotiate
Looking back down to the river crossing, where more riders were trying to negotiate the depth and muddy banks
Up towards the cave steps, my KTM decided it was time for a little rest. Good idea! I was also pooped and needed a little breather
The approach to the steps was a little tricky as well
A wide eyed Navigator looking for his line
Well, we had made it through the first day. After the cave there was a long mud-bath to cross, some fields and about 10km of single track. This pic is taken at the top of the cave steps after the mud. Man and machine triumphant.
Well, almost. It was right then that Harry’s bike also needed a little sleep and the other bikes followed suit. Can’t blame them really. They were mercilessly bullied through rocks, rivers, mud and ice, and all in all did a jolly good job.
Back at base camp, we had a little sunlight left in which to hand up our wet clothes and boots before the frost returned that night. There were a number of broken bikes limping into camp, including mine – broken neck bearings, two missing indicators, smashed mirror and a ripped Hyde cover. Just about normal for the Raid.
Now THIS is a beautiful sight. They just look they belong there?
