Lesotho Spacewalk

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Joined
Dec 13, 2011
Messages
47
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0
Location
Postmasburg
Bike
BMW R80GS
Now I'm not one that truly believes in the fates, but what I do know is that I am some of a cluts (a bit sleepy if you may: a horrible affliction let me tell you) when it comes to a lot of things.
So it was with grate (that mistake was on purpose) trepidation (affliction, if I may) that I phoned Michiel and asked him to be my chaperone, tour guide and biking partner for a trip of The Lesotho, as I was sure that I would come off the bike in some silly terrible manner and injure my tjommie (that piece of material between the anus and the cojones). The least probable of all *injuries, I know, but in my world something that may become a strange, true reality.

*injuries - its the same part that cramps when you sneeze very hard.

As luck would have had it, or maybe Michiel's sense of adventure dictated, he agreed and as the sun was beating down fiercely in a white hot Kalahari morning I got on 'The Beest', luckily not falling of the other side in the process. 'Phew, job well done' thinking to myself and set of in the direction of Jagersfontein.
Now I do not know a lot but, something I do know is that Jagersfontein is small, and a one degree error in navigation may sent me all the way past Jagersfontein and onto the post-apocalyptic world of Lesotho on my own(think on terms of trying to hit the moon and being flung into the dark reaches of outer space).
So with that in mind I made sure that I had my dad’s AA (not Alcoholics Anonymous for all you dogs) Padkaart, that cost a full R1.99 in the **olden days, to accompany me as I was slungshot past the little Karoo towns of Griekwastad (with its hangboom: a place where crooks were unceremoniously hung by the neck till they died and then some bit), Douglas, the small siding of Belmont, the sleepy town of Luckhoff (so dozy that a friend of mine was able to rearrange the obligatory rocks that spelled the name of the town on the nearby kopje to Fuckhoff), quaint boutique town of Fauresmith (where the train stopped right in the middle of town so that passengers could alight) and onto Jagerfontein.

Now I know that I said that your navigation skills must be sharp to reach Jagersfontein but that still did not deter the Chinese from launching a rocket, packed chock-full with Chinamen and all their cheap wares, in the general direction of South Africa hoping they might hit a small Karoo town and set up shop. Anyone noticed how Bangladeshi's, Chinamen and the wares they sell seem to sprout in the most unfamiliar of places? The Karoo and Kalahari of all places for f**k sakes?

On a similar note has anyone noticed how government can't seem to paint lines on the road without ''n blik verf wat ommoer'?

That said, I attempted the small ride out of the town and onto the turn-off to Michiel's farm just as it started pouring down thick, fat clots of raindrops with Michiel's word still fresh in my memory 'You'll fall at least twice before you reach the farmhouse if it rains and the road has turned to shit'. Which I promptly did...

**olden days - a burger on Spur's wooden menus only cost R1.99, there was still a fear when the cheese-van and the Kasspir's rumbled into town, when 'Wilson Toffee's so hard was ek kon drie dae daaraan kou en 'n bietjie oorlos vir die vierde dag' en die meisies in Scope nog sterre gehad het waar hul tepels moes sit.

***photo's to follow.
 
While on my farewell trip with HPN663 I stumbled upon a deserted train station in the Northern Cape.
Since this was just about as the crow flies on Kk's way to me I suggested he visited the station of Belmont.

Some good shots there Kk. Bike looking stunning too. For those who don't know, this babe was a complete
top to bottom restoration project which I helped with not so long ago. This was also the reason I got to know
Kk.

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My favorite.

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Yea, one get a great sense of yesteryear when you dwell here.

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So they say history never repeats itself but that doesn't mean we can't take a step back into it.
So rewind a few hours before the rains set in and my meeting with Mother Earth, after I left on my trip to unknown galaxies... I found myself in Belmont, a place were time stood still or has completely forgotten, as rot and decay crept in like a red, itchy blanket over the now new, communist old South African infrastructure.
A place where the daily mantra was 'Hy wat veilig werk. Leef om nog 'n dag te werk' (just above the photo of 'sinjaal' levers: the levers that were pulled to make the trains change 'tack').
A proud little siding that hosted a good number of artisans, as can be deducted from the peeling notice board stuck to one of the buildings sides i.e. carpenters (probably the people that restored badly crashed cars and painted them), bricklayers (a psychological problem, similar to necrophilia, but with bricks), plummers (people that like devouring plums), brushhands (Hypertricosis - horrible medical condition were the whole body is covered with hair, people with this condition usually ends up as the circus' main attraction), Welder/Blacksmith (re-shoed the horses that pulled the train wagons), riggers (miscreants that fixed matches in Hansie's era) and Squad/Gangers (the former probably the men entrusted to catch the latter and the riggers).
So it was a proud little town. Now the ghost of these artisans are wandering on the payroll of the Minister of Public Works from which they claim their monthly stipend, although being long dead.
 
Later that evening. 'Jirre, dit lyk soos 'n foltering (def. according the pepols that runs the dictionary: veeleisende, moeisame, uitputtend, vermoeiend, vermoeiende, lastig, back-breaking)' I say to Michiel (I actually did not say the part in brackets, neither these) as he shows me all the sheet they get up to in Lesotho on The Plastics.

'Ja, dit is 'n bietjie sadisties' Michiel retorts.

'Bedoel jy nie dalk masochisties?' I replied.

'Huh, wat's dit?'.

'Masochisme, is as jy daarvan hou om jouself te pynig waar 'n sadis daarvan hou om ander te pynig'.

'So dit maak van God 'n sadis' Michiel noticed immediately.

On which I took out my imaginary pipe to contemplate and suck in the words.  
 
Fauresmith is known for few things as well as the train track in the middle of its main street. Images by Kk.

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I still remember as a kid the train thundering down the otherwise normal town road.

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In 1989 the schools of Jagersfontein and Fauresmith decided to "smelt saam" and since then the primary school was in
Jagersfontein and the secondary in Fauresmith. My class happened to be the 1st sub A class to register at the newly found
school of Olien. Sadly Olien never produced a sub A - matriek class as it all fell apart in 1997 when government forced new
rule and yes... yea.

Of course they have a church here too. Interesting looking building with a serious steep roof. I wouldn't want to be the one
to put tiles up there. During my standard 6 and 7 years I used to sleep away many a service in this building. The Fauresmith
Dominee back then had a very boring voice and coupled with the indoctrination he made himself guilty of was for me a recipe
for a good nap. I was forced by my teachers to attend pinkster services and I have a hell of an axe to grind since then.

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The last town Kk passed through before reaching my home on the family farm and our
departure point for the trip together was Jagersfontein. This is my home town nessled between
brown and olive green rantjies and blue-grey mine heaps.

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It used to be a bustling little place for there was a mine here. From the 1880's for just about
100 years they mined blue white diamonds that set the quality standard in the world.

Approximately 9.6 million carats (1,900 kg) of jewel-quality diamonds were extracted during the
mine's century of operation, interrupted only by the two World Wars and the Great Depression.

This 972 carat monster was the biggest one to come from the hole people dug by hand and at the
time the biggest diamond in the world. Coincidentally a worker called Kaffir found it while shoveling
rubble on to a truck.

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The dirt road from Jagersfontein, also known as the "old Bloemfontein road" is one of those
lekker Karoo roads people don't know about. Those who do, come from afar to ride it. I told
Kk that this would be one of the highlights of his day but in the event of rain he will have to
take a detour right at the end by the farm as the farm entrance from this road becomes hell
of a slippery when wet.

Currently we are in the worst drought in more than a century but as his luck had it rain fell
in just enough quantity to make his final approach a very eventful one. When he finally arrived
at the old farm house his classic R80G/S was covered in mud! He didn't take pictures while fighting
the mud monster but here is what it might have looked like. Any mere mortal can only ride a bike
sideways for so long before the inevitable happens.  :imaposer:
 

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The bike must have weighed at least 10kg more by the time Kk rolled or rather skidded
on to the yard. I had pleasant thoughts of Lesotho while scraping the mud from the wheel
arches and frame. Little did we know this was a precursor to the trip.

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Michiel, there must be an easier way to collect soil ::)
waiting for the rest :thumleft:
 
DRAZIL said:
Michiel, there must be an easier way to collect soil ::)
waiting for the rest :thumleft:

:imaposer:  Sure aint no way more fun!


Kk is the man with the charm but currently without a computer to continue posting. We will have to
give it a little time. I can say this though. I didn't expect much from the trip since DS riding has become
rather boring to me, spend my petrol on extreme Enduro lately, but I was pleasantly surprised and even
ended up seeing a part of Lesotho I haven't actually seen before...
 
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