Friday 16/10/2020
Friday morning I pack my bags, don my kit, pay my bills and head for the hill in the direction of Op-die-Berg. The plan is to visit Kareedouw Conservancy and ride around the farm a bit. They've had some rains and the dams are full, and I'm very keen to see more of this place I've only passed through three times before. The property has self-catering renovated cottages of various sizes all over, and I was especially keen to see the top most one near the waterfall.
After two days of standing still, I expect Blue to be eager to go, but he stutters, swallows and jerks like a donkey unused to the harness. I reach the top of the hill where I stop to take photo's, and Blue gives up the ghost and refuses to start again. I try with choke open and choke closed, with petcock set to fuel or to reserve, wringing the throttle fully, but no joy. Blue is so halstarrig soos 'n steeks donkie.
I'm starting to really panic as there is no cell phone signal, when my friends from the previous night stop and try to lend a hand. We poke around and guess at this or that, but Blue is dead as a doornail.
Eventually I get Blue started again and, revving like a maniac, manage to ride him down to Mount Cedar where he finally dies on the low water bridge. My friendly entourage help to push us into the shade of Mount Cedar's parking, and I send them on their way with a fond farewell. I can't expect them to crawl behind me at 10kph while I try to coax Blue along; they need to get home too.
I know Mount Cedar has Wifi signal, I can contact people from there, and I hope that if push comes to shove, they can help with accommodation. I settle in and start calling around, loathe to bother my loved ones to come fetch me, but realising this is the only way. Then I luck out: Karel, then manager at Kareekloof Conservancy (he has since moved on), offers to come fetch me and Blue from Mount Ceder; he'll be there in about an hour. I go limp with relief, and order some refreshments while I wait.
I'm quietly gutted and really upset. I have the most trustworthy of trustworthy bikes, and it failed on me. It can't be much that went wrong as these bikes are so basic, but it completely floored me as it isn't something I can fix. And this after the bike has just very recently been serviced. I try not to let depression get the better of me as I wait for Karel.
This sums up my sentiments towards my erstwhile and never again bike mechanic workshop:
Something that continues to lift my spirits and the corners of my mouth, though, is the reaction to my elbow. Since the haematoma was iced away, it's given me no hassles whatsoever, but it put forth a show of colours to rival a peacock's tail. Everywhere I go, people carefully say, "if you don't mind my asking, what happened to your elbow?" I feel such a fraud explaining to them that no, it really isn't painful at all, as terrible as it looks. It turns out to be a great ice breaker and conversation starter.
Stunning smoked chicken salad at Mount Cedar
Karel arrives and we have a cup of coffee before attempting to load Blue onto the back of his bakkie. As we consider how to lift the bike, a spry 70+ year old lady strides towards us, full of vigour, and asks whether we need a hand. "I'm very strong, you know". Her husband wordlessly carries on walking towards their car while she attaches to the side of my bike. We lift the front, then I get on the bakkie to hold the front wheel steady while Karel gets a better grip on the back of the bike to lift the rest.
"I've got a good grip!" assures the lively old lady, heaving as Karel grabs the swing arm and hoists Blue onto the bakkie. I thank her profusely as her husband stops beside her to pick her up, and wave an enthusiastic bye, dead certain and awed that somehow Karel had managed to lift my 160-odd kg bike by himself. Blue leans on the bakkie leaking fuel - probably from the airbox - showing the carburettor is probably blocked up.
We head towards Katbakkies Pass, which I've never ridden in a cage before.
Blue tethered makes me sad.
Lovely rains had filled up the dams, and it was wonderful to see
