Karoo Krismis: Dorre Karoo na Groene Tuinroete

[Odd Dog]

Brilliant RR Ri!!!!

What an interesting place that lodge! And...your company there was from my part of the world.

Glad you enjoying! Yes, they are from Durban. Lovely people, hope I meet them again somewhere  :thumleft:

All good biker people come from Durban Ri.  ;D

 

[Ri]

Brilliant RR Ri!!!!

What an interesting place that lodge! And...your company there was from my part of the world.

Glad you enjoying! Yes, they are from Durban. Lovely people, hope I meet them again somewhere  :thumleft:

All good biker people come from Durban Ri.  ;D

If the Durban biker people I've met so far are representative, I agree :biggrin:

 

[Ri]

Dag 2 Deel 1 - Gannaga Lodge na Middelpos

Beplande roete:

Roete in werklikheid gevolg (gemisde afdraai):

Hoewel ek 'n rowwe week met onderbroke slaap agter die rug het, en my dag omtrent 20 ure lank was, lê ek wawyd wakker teen ongeveer 05:00. Ek rol 'n paar oomblikke rond, en stap dan buitentoe om te sien hoe die son agter die berge uitloer, rooi van skaamte omdat ek eerste op is.

Ek talm 'n oomblik en neem die pragtige gesig in, en gaan rol dan weer my moeë lyf in die bed in die hoop dat my brein my nog 'n paar minute se slaap toelaat. Die slaap haal my weer in, en ek raak eers wakker toe die bure opstaan en in die plankvloergang afkraak.

Ek staan op en pak solank 'n paar goed in, en gaan maak dan 'n vinnige draai in die eetsaal terwyl my maag met my onderhandel oor ontbyt.  Ek veto die bestellings en sluk net 'n koppie sterk koffie af. Ek is nog moeg, en 'n vol maag op 'n warm dag met 'n paar uur se ry wat voorlê is mos moeilikheid soek. Boonop het 'n paar vlinders aansoeke ingedien om vliegmaneuvres in my maag te kom oefen, en wag alreeds op die aanloopbaan.

Ek bevestig my roete vir die dag met Johann, betaal my rekening, gaan pak klaar en laai alles op die geduldige "Gentleman". Robert en Leslie bons alreeds rond vol energie, aangetrek en reg om growwe paaie te gaan soek op hulle "plastics". Leslie ry vandag die KX85, 'n veerligte motorfietsie met 'n sitplek so hoog soos haar dun middeltjie. Robert dring daarop aan om gou "Gent" se ketting te spuit, en tiep sommer die gedweë "Gent". Leslie rol die wiel. Hulle bespuit sommer die KTM Freeride ook, en Leslie is verbaas dat die "Gent" se agterwiel soveel vryer en makliker spin as die KTM s'n.

Daarna dring Robert aan om my 'n bietjie brandstof te gee. Ek is redelik seker ek sal Middelpos haal, en die Lodge verkoop ook 5l kanne brandstof, maar Robert verseker my dat hulle meer brandstof het as wat hulle gaan gebruik. Ek staan verbaas en dankbaar oor hierdie gulhartigheid. Robert tiep so 2 of 3l petrol in, net todat die tenk ongeveer half is, en beaam dat ek nie te veel brandstof gebruik het van Tankwa Padstal af nie.

Robert en Leslie gee albei vir my drukkies, spring op hulle motorfietse en brul uitbundig in die pad af, Pas se kant toe. Ek beveel die vlinders om vir 'n oomblik formasie te hou, gooi my been oor die "Gent", skakel hom aan en brom dan meer besadigd by die hek uit en draai links, Middelpos se rigting.

Johann het my gewaarsku oor padswenkings voor en na die beeshekke en die moontlikheid van vee, so ek hou my oë oop en my spoed matig. Na die eerste beeshek kom ek af op 'n klomp angora bokkies wat weerskante van die pad wei. Ek ry dadelik stadiger, en swenk van een kant van die pad na die ander om hulle nie onnodig die skrik op die lyf te jaag nie. Ek kom egter agter dat 'n stadige spoed nie regtig werk nie - dan swenk hulle voor jou in.

'n Onoordeelkundige bokkie... iets waarvan mans droom

As mens vinniger ry, is mens by die bokkies verby voordat hulle swak instinkte hulle voor die voorwiel kan inoorreed. Ek skiet gou by hulle verby en is dan weer op 'n oop, onbebokte pad wat so nou en dan swenk tussen heuwels en dale. Dit is nie lank voor ek by Middelpos inrol nie.

Die dorpie is doodstil, totdat mens by die petrolpomp stop en sien dat die kafeetjie krioel van die plaaslike bevolging.

Die petrolstasie is gesluit, maar daar is 'n selnommer lewensgroot op die muur geverf. Terwyl ek nog wik en weeg, en rondrol om 'n plek te kry om die "Gent" se voet neer te sit, kom 'n pa en sy jong seun aangestap van om die hoek. Hulle sien dat ek brandstof wil ingooi, en vertel my dat ek na die hotel toe sal moet ry. Ek bedank hulle vriendelik vir die inligting, bekyk weer die nommer en besluit dan om te bel. Wanneer ek omdraai, staan die pa en seun 'n entjie weg my fiets en bekyk.

"Bewonder julle my motorfiets?" grap ek laggend. Die seun knik skaam. "Hy hou van die pers", sê sy pa.
"Het jy my pers handvatsels gesien? Hulle lyk koel né!" vra ek entoesiasties, en begin my helmet en handskoene aan te trek. Die pa bied egter aan om vir die hotel te sê dat ek brandstof wil ingooi. Ek bedank hulle, baie verlig.

Terwyl die pa met sy seun by my verbystap waar ek regmaak om die motorfiets nader aan die pomp te skuif, skud hy sy kop in effense ongeloof. "Jy waag baie", merk hy onderlangs op. Die vlinders in my maag beaam hom met onrustige vlerke maar ek shoesh hulle. Ek maak vol, en sien dat ek reg was - ek sou Middelpos met gemak gehaal het. Dit is gerusstellend, en ek ry met 'n glimlag en 'n gevoel van opwinding uit die dorpie uit. Avontuur wag!

 

[Tony the Boney]

Hoe lekker loop die storie nou!

 

[Ri]

Dag 2 Deel 2 - Middelpos na Fraserburg

Ek ry uit Middelpos uit en draai regs om aan te sluit by die Calvina-Sutherland pad, rigting Sutherland. Daar kom 'n wit bakkie van Sutherland rigting in gewarrel, gevolg deur 'n dik bondel stof - die eerste en laaste voertuig wat ek sien vir 'n paar kilometers. Sowat 15km buite die dorp is die padbord net waar my bronne gesê het dit sou wees, en ek swenk versigtig links, rigting Williston.

Dit is nie gou nie, of ek laat my verlei om 'n verkeerde pad te vat.  My instink was korrek - ek het regs gemik - maar het my bedink omdat die bord nie gesê het "Fraserburg" nie, en laaste wat my swaer benadruk het, is dat ek moet aanhou rigting Williston. So Williston, hier kom ek!

Een brug te vêr... blykbaar moes ek nie hierdie brug gekruis het nie. Maar hier is ek nou!

Laaste teken van water:

Waar ek moes regs draai na Sutherland toe, het ek verkeerdelik links gehou na Williston. Gelukkig vir my het hierdie pad ook 'n afdraai Fraserburg toe parallel met die pad wat ek gemik het om te vat, anders was dit 'n baie langer draai al die pad tot in Williston. My totale geskatte afstand vir die dag was ver onder my langafstand tenk se rykwydte so ek sou dit met gemak gehaal het, iedere geval, so ek was rustig.

Die dag is lieflik vir ry. 'n Koue front is voorspel, en die hoogste temperatuur aangedui is 24C. Dit is waarskynlik 'n bietjie warmer, maar daar waai deurentyd 'n koel luggie gewaai en ek kry nie baie warm nie. Ek teug ook gereeld aan my watersak, wat Johann so gaaf was om met yskaswater vol te maak die oggend toe hy sien ek koop 2 x 500ml gebottelde water om in te gooi.

Die pad is in 'n redelike toestand, en ek handhaaf 'n goeie spoed. My motorfiets loop soos 'n goed opgepaste diesel trokkie en klink soos 'n enkelprop vliegtuig. Die pad lê lui uitgestrek oor die vlaktes en heuweltjies, gierig dat ek sy kurwes moet kom kielie.

Daar is ook ander gediertes in die pad. Hier styg 'n valk op, wat in die pad gesit het, na die regterkant:

Maar dan gooi hierdie einste uitlokkende pad vir my 'n wakkermakertjie. Met die onlangse reën in die geweste het die los grond die geleentheid gegryp om 'n gemakliker lêplek te gaan soek, en soos 'n moeg gewynde sommer wydsbeen in die pad gaan lê. Toe ek weer sien lê hier twee lekker sandknikke waarop ek teen 80kph afsnel.

Gelukkig staan ek reeds, iets wat soms gebeur. My dunderm en uitgangspunt sluit spasties in voorbereiding op die voorgenome skok van bloedverlies. Ek draai die versneller toe asof ek 'n hoender nek-af draai, maar durf nie aan enige van die remme raak nie. Ek glip so stil soos 'n spook af op die knikke en rol dan oor hulle - EEN ... TWEE - en voel hoe eers die agterkant en dan die voorkant soos 'n baldadige tolletjie bokspring.

O..... TOFFIE 

Bokspring

Hoër!

Wanneer die voorwiel weer grond vat, vind dit sagte sand en "Gent" gooi die mees grasieuse "tank slapper" in die geskiedenis van motorfietsry: links... regs... links... regs... terwyl ek bid en probeer om nie krampagtig aan die handvatsels te klem nie.

Swenk:

Swenk nog meer:

"Gentleman" ruk homself eindelik reg en kies 'n reguit lyn, en ons rol vort terwyl ek, bewend van adrenalien, vurige dankgebede opstuur.

Die pad voel besonder lank, langer as beplan, en ek verwag om enige oomblik Williston in die verte te sien. Maar dan sien ek dankbaar hierdie bordjie - nog 'n afdraai wat ek amper mis.

Ek is nie lief vir veldtoilet nie, en sal eerder ysere wilskrag inspan as om in die veld water te laat  (ek werk nog aan die vermoë om water intern te hersirkuleer). Die beslommernis van 'n  onbuigbare rybroek afstoei tot net onder die heupe - dit weier om verder te sak - en natgeswete klere van 'n taai klewende vel af te rem, vir die moontlikheid van 'n paar spatsels op jou ryskoene - ek gril my in 'n ander bloedgroep in - of, nog erger, iemand wat jou met ongesonbruinde parte ontbloot uitvang, is genoeg om my harder te laat knyp.

Maar na 'n onbeplande weeklange besoek aan die hospitaal weens nierpypontsteking, en omdat die borde geen afstande aandui nie, en omdat ek alleen in die geweste is, besluit ek dit moet maar. Ek het 'n strategie bedink en besluit om dit in werking te stel. Ek maak die "Gent" staan en stap rond op soek na 'n lokasie wat my strategie sal akkommodeer, en vind dit dan ook in 'n water of spruit afloop. Maar dit is nie al wat ek vind nie en ek heroorweeg amper my besluit.

Maar die hospitaalbesoek lê swaar op my gedagtes, en ek besluit om deur te druk. Dit is dan ook natuurlik Murphy se Wet dat, net toe al die klewende klere uiteindelik slap om my knieë hang, 'n bakkie vol plaaswerkers asmaties verby snor. Ek rem nog vervaard, toe trek hulle al op die horison. Genadiglik sien hulle my nie raak nie, en ek handel vinnig maar ongehinderd my besigheid af.

Dan is dit die laaste been na die dag se bestemming - 'n paar kilometer duskant Fraserburg - en ek durf dit met 'n ligte blaas en 'n dankbare hart aan.

 

[nielvn]

[emoji106] great rr, goed geskryf


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

[Ri]

Dag 2 Deel 3 - Middelpos na Fraserburg (vervolg)

Na die afdraai in Fraserburg se rigting, is die pad 'n bietjie losser en meer klipperig, maar niks om oor opgewonde te raak nie. En na my sandwapper sien ek kans hiervoor. Net 'n entjie na die draai kom ek af op hierdie groep windpompe wat baie naby mekaar staan. Ek weet nie of die boer hulle so geplant het omdat daar baie water was nie, maar dit was besonders genoeg dat ek gestop het om 'n foto te neem.

Genoegdoening is 'n betroubare motorfiets met baie brandstof en 'n lekker grondpad om te ry, met geliefdes wat ander kant vir mens wag  :love7:

Na die windpompe en die dorre wêreld, is daar onverwags ook 'n pragtig groen boomlaning waardeur ek ry, en ek vang die oomblik vas op kamera

Na 'n heerlike rit bereik ek die stukkie teerpad tussen Fraserburg en Williston. Ek is nou naby aan my eindbestemming, en ek laat weet my sus dit is nog net 'n rukkie. mekaar. Dan ry ek vort. 

Wie het geweet 'n vrou kan so min pak vir meer as 'n week :lol8:

Op die teerpad ry ek verby 'n boer op sy trekker, wat besig is om 'n waentjie te sleep waarop die bale HOOG gestrooi is. Hy wuif baie vriendelik vir my. Maar oulikste van alles is die kolliehond wat van bo-op die bale vir my lê grinnik, baie in sy skik met sy verhewe posisie!

Dan sluit die pad aan by die Fraserburg / Sutherland pad, en ek draai links in Fraserburg se rigting met 'n groot glimlag in my helmet.

My swaer en neef wou graag op die plaas motorfietse gery het en my op die pad kom ontmoet, maar my swaer het, tereg, gevrees dat ek dalk die verkeerde pad mag vat, en dan mis ons mekaar. Hulle het vir my gevra om te laat weet as ek deur die dorp ry sodat hulle my daar kan kry, maar aangesien ek op pad was, het ek die boodskap heeltemal gemis.

Dan stoot ek die plaashek agter my toe met 'n gevoel van opwinding: die stukkie waarvoor ek ongeveer 530 km gekom het, lê voor my - sowat 7km van plaas grondpad, en die rofste terrein wat ek nog op hierdie rit teë gekom het. Die pad begin bedrieglik reguit, maar daar lê baie bultjies in die pad, en hulle is steiler en hoër as wat hulle op die oog af lyk. Nadat ek die eerste een te vinnig oorsteek, en amper my motorfiets in die steek laat, kalmeer ek die versnellerhand 'n bietjie en snor rustig tot by die plaas huis, 'n oase in die dorre woestyn.

Ek voel nog altyd dat as dinge sleg verkeerdloop, ek hierheen sal dros. Die plaashuis staan diep agter op 'n groot plaas, met 'n standhoudende fontein. Die tuin is 'n lushof van groen bome en gras, en die huis is 'n pragtige Georgiaanse gedoente. Die kamers is ruim en my sus is 'n goeie kok. Die huis staan in 'n kom, omring van koppies en berge, en ek en my jongste niggie geniet dit om ure op die plaas te rond te dwaal.

By die plaashuis aangekom ontvang my mense my gul, verlig dat ek in een stuk en sonder bloeiende dele opdaag. Die neef is grootpraterig oor hoe hy my gaan laat les opsê wanneer ons later bietjie in die veld gaan ry, en die niggies is vol bewondering dat ek nie een val-verhaal het om te vertel nie. My genoegdoening hang soos 'n mantel om my - my lekker motorfietsie het my sonder 'n misslag veilig tot hier gebring.

My swaer het allerhande planne om op die plaas te gaan rondry, aangesien ek hom ontneem het van die geleentheid om my van die dorp af te vergesél. Ek is aan die een kant half spyt - dit sou lekker gewees het om in 'n groep op die plaas aan te kom. Aan die ander kant is ek egter 'n klein bietjie tevrede - ek het onder eie stoom, sonder enige hulp of ongevalle, by die plaas aangekom.

En nou kan ek 'n paar dae ontspan vir Kersfees. Of so dink ek altans... O_O

 

[Xpat]

Ri, I don't speak Afrikaans, so not sure if you talked about it - but is there a reason you packed the way you did? It seems to me you are making your life way more difficult than it needs to be with all that weight sitting so far up and backwards. Low hanging saddle bags ideally sitting on the passenger footpegs as much to the front as possible would IMO give you much more control and safety on the bike.

At least that is my experience - even just moving saddle bags from rear racks where they are usually situated to accomodate non-existent passenger, upfront to sit on passenger packs makes huge - and I mean - huge difference.

 

[Skim]

WoW!!!

Hoe het ek die een gemis! Go Ri we are waiting for the rest!

 

[Operator]

:sip:

 

[Ri]

Ri, I don't speak Afrikaans, so not sure if you talked about it - but is there a reason you packed the way you did? It seems to me you are making your life way more difficult than it needs to be with all that weight sitting so far up and backwards. Low hanging saddle bags ideally sitting on the passenger footpegs as much to the front as possible would IMO give you much more control and safety on the bike.

At least that is my experience - even just moving saddle bags from rear racks where they are usually situated to accomodate non-existent passenger, upfront to sit on passenger packs makes huge - and I mean - huge difference.

No, I didn't address the issue of packing. I agree with what you say, and in future will definitely put it into practice.

I remember a trip where I packed two saddle-bags for the express purpose of having the weight lower. The dude I was riding with promptly unpacked my saddlebags and threw everything into a hold-all, strapped onto my luggage rack  :xxbah:

My challenges are as follows: I want the weight distributed evenly, and that means if I put one heavy thing in one saddle-bag (i.e. tool bag), I need to put equal weight on the other side. This leads to overpacking. The saddlebags are a bit too big for a shorter trip, and also invite overpacking, so I'm planning to organise with Nomad Bags for smaller saddlebags in a shape that pleases my needs and my eyes. This means a special trip to George for the measurements, and arguing with P.K. about aesthetics  :bueller:

My tool bag was inside the Flying Brick bag, which straps on to luggage rack, and that was my heaviest piece of luggage, weighing in at a ton, but I'm used to riding with that weight there. It's a bit too heavy to put on one side of a bike, I wouldn't be able to balance it on the other side. I could split up my tools, but I need smaller saddle bags or I'll just overpack again to not have stuff moving around. Also I prefer having all my stuff together, and knowing where everything is. And if my bike falls on its side, I can still reach the stuff on the back if needs be.

My roll bag of about 28l with clothes on top wasn't half as heavy, so didn't add much weight. I thought I kept it nice and low, with the weight at the bottom and not stacked too high 

I'm still experimenting with placements of the bags, e.g. having the roll bag on the seat behind me instead of on the tool bag, but this was the (hasty) packing for this trip. This was also my first long trip, previous being 4 days and I used saddlebags then (talk about overpacking!). I fell with the bike, causing the luggage rack to bend and the saddlebag to burn against the exhaust. I didn't even notice it till afterwards. That said, I don't fall so much anymore  :imaposer:

Just need to get myself organised with the right luggage, and I'll become a model packer :ricky:

 

[Chrisl]

Maar na 'n onbeplande weeklange besoek aan die hospitaal weens nierpypontsteking, en omdat die borde geen afstande aandui nie, en omdat ek alleen in die geweste is, besluit ek dit moet maar.

My vrou het besluit op haar eerste trip in Namibië sy gaan knyp tussen die dorpe. Daai dorpe is blerrie vér uitmekaar en twee weke is lank. :eek7:
Nodeloos om te sê sy het nierontseking vir die eerste keer in haar lewe gekry en was amper in die hospitaal en n week in erge pyn by die huis spandeer.
Dit bly ongemaklik vir dames om die toiletding langs die pad te doen. MX boots en rybroeke maak dit nie makliker nie.

 

[Ri]

Maar na 'n onbeplande weeklange besoek aan die hospitaal weens nierpypontsteking, en omdat die borde geen afstande aandui nie, en omdat ek alleen in die geweste is, besluit ek dit moet maar.

My vrou het besluit op haar eerste trip in Namibië sy gaan knyp tussen die dorpe. Daai dorpe is blerrie vér uitmekaar en twee weke is lank. :eek7:
Nodeloos om te sê sy het nierontseking vir die eerste keer in haar lewe gekry en was amper in die hospitaal en n week in erge pyn by die huis spandeer.
Dit bly ongemaklik vir dames om die toiletding langs die pad te doen. MX boots en rybroeke maak dit nie makliker nie.

'n Vriendelike WD het vir my 'n goeie tip aangebied: "SheWee", klink soos 'n pyp of iets wat  'n vrou toelaat om soos 'n man te staan. Dit kom blykbaar in pers ook :imaposer:

Snaaks, die pyn was nie erg nie - die dokter het vir my GOEIE goed bestel! Maar elke sarsie antibiotika het die sweet laat stroom asof ek 'n fontein onder die watertafel was. En daar was nie lopende warm water nie. 'n Langs-die-bed-was as mens so siek is, is glad nie pret nie. Op Dag 4 het ek gekraak soos 'n eier, uitgebars in trane en gehuil vir warm water. :eek7:

Na 'n gatvol nurse vir my die Adminkantore se nommer gegee het, is ek vinnig na die Kindersaal gelei waar ek 'n uur in 'n salige warm bad gelê het (dit was laas jaar, voor die Groot Watertekorte.) Daarna het 'n paar witgejasde tegnici binne 'n dag die warm water uitgesorteer. :xxbah:

 

[Ri]

Day 3 Part 1 - Farm Riding

The day dawns bright and early, full of quiet but lively farm noises. The scalding hot coffee stands cooling on my bedside table because the beloved family know to let Auntie have a good snooze. By the time I’m snoozed out, the coffee is cold but I don’t mind. Coffee in bed is a rare luxury in the single life. I don’t even make myself coffee in bed.

Then it’s up for a leisurely breakfast of whatever “pap” is cooked up. Who knew you could cook porridge from brown bread flour? Life on the farm is full of culinary surprises. Breakfast porridge flows along with desultory conversation, everyone having a word to say, catching up on all the news.

Then my brother-in-law sticks his head around the door and beckons me to follow. He points at the DR200 and tells me we’re going for a ride on the farm. “Wat julle sal noem ‘tegnies’” he says, grinning widely with almost no hint of malice. I hesitate a little – I’ve heard stories of the kind of riding he needs to do on the farm, up mountains and down riverbeds.

I kit up – or at least don shoes, jacket, helmet and gloves – and mount the smaller bike. The handlebars are so low, it feels like they are in line with my knees, a position I find very uncomfortable. The clutch and the front brake are set for big hands, and I battle to budge them. The back brake is non-existent.

My bro-in-law, unATTGATTED, loads both my nieces onto the XT600 – the smaller niece in front on the tank, and the taller one behind him. I wobble after them on a bike that feels as substantial as candyfloss compared to my slightly bulkier Purple Gentleman.

A few kilometres down the road, the bro-in-law stops to offload his cargo, opens a hole in the fence and beckons me onto a twee-spoor track that curves off into the veld. I follow him gingerly as the track dodges a straight line to throw big Ss over the veld and dips down through a few sandy, stony little dry river beds and dry shrub. Not long, and track peters out and we turn around to head back. The bro-in-law nods for me to go ahead, and I backtrack with a little more confidence – I got here OKish, I should be able to make it back without incident.

We crawl back through the open fence and my nieces crowd my bro-in-law, asking eagerly , “Hoe ry my tannie?” I’m too far away to hear his calm answer. We head back a few hundred metres, and then the bro-in-law turns off into the veld again. This time the track is dodgier, throwing mean little curves and packing more steps up and down into riverbeds, loose sand and round little stones for a longer distance. I bounce along with a bit more confidence to where the track fades, and turn the bike around while my brother-in-law goes on a few meters to check on something in the next camp. Then we head back home.

Later on the bro-in-law tells me I don’t ride too badly, but I don’t move on the bike. This is a common complaint about my riding, and it is due to nerves. When I hit more technical terrain, my back stiffens and need to remind myself to keep my shoulders and knees loose. On the Gent I might stand up, depending on how badly the bike bounces over the terrain, but I don’t know the small bike well enough to stand up. Even seated I feel uncomfortably hunched over, and the controls are too stiff for me. Still, I’m chuffed. My brother-in-law doesn’t compliment lightly.

A short while later my brother-in-law commandeers us to  join him on as he’s off to make sure the animals are eating the new feed he is giving them, in the wide camps at the back of the farm. He wants my sister to go along as pillion so he can refresh her on riding a motorbike again. My nephew gets to play on the DR200, and I’m on my beloved Gent. I again don boots, jacket, gloves and helmet, while my sister puts on sturdier boots, jeans and a helmet. The men of course do it farm-style, their only concession to ATGATT being sturdier shoes.

We head off into the wild yonder for an exhilarating ride. Nephew challenges me for a race, but the Gent soon puts him in his place.

Oops! Missed the turn off! Heading off through the veld

 

[Ri]

Day 3 Part 2 – More Farm Riding

After lunch comes the final challenge: we are riding to the neighbouring farm, 9km of twee-spoor just over the hill, again to make sure the animals are into their new diet. Brother-in-law reckons if I feel comfortable on the road, I can perhaps use it as a shortcut to get to the gravel road I plan to take when I leave the farm.

Buoyed by the Bro-in-law’s compliments of earlier, I don my gear and head off after them over hill and dale. Very soon my nephew on the DR200 and my brother-in-law on the XT600 are lost over the horizon as I bump and shudder my way over rutted, stony tracks and through the by now familiar sandy riverbeds.

I pray and cling as the Gent ricochets up a steep sandy and rocky hill, sliding down the other side over bigger loose rocks, then jumps up the next rocky hill again. Crouched over the handlebars, unable to reach the gear lever on the varying terrain, I stay in second gear. When the Gent growls for a lower gear on the uphills, I pull in the clutch until Gent almost slips, and give him gas. Gent shudders but soldiers on manfully as I slowly ease the clutch.

After one particularly sharp incline followed by a long gentle winding downhill, I find my bro-in-law waiting, and tell him that the nephew seems to be having trouble starting the DR200 after stopping to open and close a gate for us. The bro-in-law races off, but soon comes back with the nephew in tow and my one spotlight in his hand. The rocky terrain had caused the flimsy bracket to break off completely. I gratefully shove it in my pocket. These bulbous spotlights make Gent look like a purple guppy, but I adore them

When we get to the animals, Bro-in-law starts giving them more feed, which means opening bag after bag of feed and mashing it with a shovel, mixing in molasses and then mashing again. I realise this might take hours, and my sister is in a flat panic at home as the house still needs to be prepared for visitors coming on Christmas day. I need to go back, and I’ll need to do it alone.

I balk slightly at the prospect of the rough 9km ahead, to my mind the worst terrain I’ve faced so far – worse than Fall Down Hill and Gysmanshoek Pass, and on par with the rough stony single track where I’d had my hardest fall to date, landing hard enough to wind myself slightly. I give myself and the Gent a pep talk: we’d made it to here without incident, and even if we fall, the family would be along eventually to pick up the pieces.

Then we accelerate over the long wide sandy bend up to the first rocky step of the steep incline. With the front wheel barely up the first step the Gent stops and slowly starts rolling back – I haven’t given enough gas. I grab handfuls of front brake and throttle, perching on tiptoe, fighting for balance as the Gent screams, my nerve evaporating fast.

I remind myself that the Gent and I have already done this, and that the Gent only needs a bit of momentum to stay upright. I take a deep breath and my mind’s eye throws up a vision of the family finding Gent and I clinging to the rock like a purple Chicken Little. My nephew would never let me live it down. My brother-in-law probably won’t say a word, which is somehow worse. The prospect of embarrassment stiffens my spine and my resolve. I open the throttle wide and immediately jump up in the pegs, giving the Gent his head over the rocky terrain.

We roar back over the rolling landscape, and in a surprisingly short time I come to an elated halt on the hill about halfway home, where the terrain becomes smoother again, giving thanks and praise and marvelling at the grace. Soloing this short but challenging 9km journey would have been inconceivable just a few months ago. For a moment I feel invincible - anything is possible.

Back at the house I quickly jump in to help with the preparations, determined and jubilant, and the house is soon in order. Over dinner Brother-in-law says in his quiet way: “Jy ry  heelwat beter as wat ek gedink het.” High praise indeed! I fall asleep, glowing like the Christmas Tree.

 

[woody1]

Mooi man..  :ricky:

 

[Ri]

Day 4 + 5

Christmas celebrations with family and friends. My beloved family give me an electric coffee grinder and 5 flavours of Arabica coffee beans, which they promise to bring along when they visit again.

On Boxing Day we laze around like fat Blue Bottles, still replete from the scrumptious Christmas lunch and leftovers.

I wish I'd arranged to stay with my beloved family another day, but at the same time a small part of me yearns to be purring along empty undulating gravel roads, with new vistas opening up around each bend. I start sorting out my stuff surreptitiously, suddenly eager for the next leg of my journey.  :ricky:

 

[P.K.]

Ri, I don't speak Afrikaans, so not sure if you talked about it - but is there a reason you packed the way you did? It seems to me you are making your life way more difficult than it needs to be with all that weight sitting so far up and backwards. Low hanging saddle bags ideally sitting on the passenger footpegs as much to the front as possible would IMO give you much more control and safety on the bike.

At least that is my experience - even just moving saddle bags from rear racks where they are usually situated to accomodate non-existent passenger, upfront to sit on passenger packs makes huge - and I mean - huge difference.

No, I didn't address the issue of packing. I agree with what you say, and in future will definitely put it into practice.

I remember a trip where I packed two saddle-bags for the express purpose of having the weight lower. The dude I was riding with promptly unpacked my saddlebags and threw everything into a hold-all, strapped onto my luggage rack  :xxbah:

My challenges are as follows: I want the weight distributed evenly, and that means if I put one heavy thing in one saddle-bag (i.e. tool bag), I need to put equal weight on the other side. This leads to overpacking. The saddlebags are a bit too big for a shorter trip, and also invite overpacking, so I'm planning to organise with Nomad Bags for smaller saddlebags in a shape that pleases my needs and my eyes. This means a special trip to George for the measurements, and arguing with P.K. about aesthetics  :bueller:

My tool bag was inside the Flying Brick bag, which straps on to luggage rack, and that was my heaviest piece of luggage, weighing in at a ton, but I'm used to riding with that weight there. It's a bit too heavy to put on one side of a bike, I wouldn't be able to balance it on the other side. I could split up my tools, but I need smaller saddle bags or I'll just overpack again to not have stuff moving around. Also I prefer having all my stuff together, and knowing where everything is. And if my bike falls on its side, I can still reach the stuff on the back if needs be.

My roll bag of about 28l with clothes on top wasn't half as heavy, so didn't add much weight. I thought I kept it nice and low, with the weight at the bottom and not stacked too high 

I'm still experimenting with placements of the bags, e.g. having the roll bag on the seat behind me instead of on the tool bag, but this was the (hasty) packing for this trip. This was also my first long trip, previous being 4 days and I used saddlebags then (talk about overpacking!). I fell with the bike, causing the luggage rack to bend and the saddlebag to burn against the exhaust. I didn't even notice it till afterwards. That said, I don't fall so much anymore  :imaposer:

Just need to get myself organised with the right luggage, and I'll become a model packer :ricky:

We will probably argue about aesthetics because my products are not fashion statements...they are FUNCTIONAL items . Be that as it may, I`m sure we can work something out !
What you need to bear in mind is that you are constrained by the bike , the placement of it`s exhaust and whether there are pannier frames.
On my DR I don`t use frames and have made up very functional bags that work for MY requirements.
Keith (Ruffian on the forum) also used my system and was very happy with them.

As the bags get bigger it becomes increasingly difficult to design something that will not push your sidecover onto the exhaust or be dangerously close the the back wheel.

My system is based on a `saddle` over the seat that fastens at the pillion footpegs and rear rack...this is very secure. Based on this `saddle` you can then request  bags to suite your requirements, be they panniers with zips, rolltops or `holster `style.

 

[Ri]

We will probably argue about aesthetics because my products are not fashion statements...they are FUNCTIONAL items . Be that as it may, I`m sure we can work something out !
What you need to bear in mind is that you are constrained by the bike , the placement of it`s exhaust and whether there are pannier frames.
On my DR I don`t use frames and have made up very functional bags that work for MY requirements.
Keith (Ruffian on the forum) also used my system and was very happy with them.

As the bags get bigger it becomes increasingly difficult to design something that will not push your sidecover onto the exhaust or be dangerously close the the back wheel.

My system is based on a `saddle` over the seat that fastens at the pillion footpegs and rear rack...this is very secure. Based on this `saddle` you can then request  bags to suite your requirements, be they panniers with zips, rolltops or `holster `style.

A functional product can still look good - your products generally manage it. The Gent has pannier racks so there is a little scope. I like the luggage you designed for that new Africa Twin, the square bags with the red straps. I would also like square-ish saddle bags, but not as big and bulky as those on the AT. How do you figure out how big is big enough?

 

[P.K.]

General principal: "you will fill whatever bag you take"...
Most people pack WAY too much shit...however, each to his own and you will only find out what works for you with trial and error, which means more trips, so it`s all good !

I have made soft panniers up to 225mm deep:  way too big and wide in my opinion as they will tend to slump on the rougher tracks.
I generallt steer client`s to 100mm or 125mm wide and they work quite well.