Day 5 â?? 3rd June 2008 : Bush Camp â?? Emergency Camp (S21 02 38.0 E14 10 27.0) on D2303
Route: Bush Camp, D2612, Turnoff to Twyfelfontein, Tywfelfontein, Organ Pipes/Burnt Mountain, 4x4 track past Doros crater, Brandberg West Mine, D2303
Distance: 134km
Fuel: Twyfelfontein, plus filled bladders (total 28 litres)
Accomodation costs: Nil (No water entire day until Henties bay next day â?? ZILCH)
Waking up on this morning had a special feel about it. Firstly my feet felt damp â?? that was not good, but I suppose being too lazy to put up oneâ??s tent gets this type of result. On the positive side we felt alive and satisfied. We were in the â??perfectâ? bush camp, just perfect. Donâ??t get us wrong, roughing completely in an isolated camp would have been so much more â??adventurousâ? (as we were later to find out), but this was for now â?? just perfect. The remnants of last night â??kuierâ? was all to evident, bottles lying around, the camp chairs evident of our huddle close to the fire to escape the cold and the charred sauces on the braai grids silent testimony to the steaks and wors that had sizzled there only hours earlier.
Poppipants just enjoying the early morning chill
Funacide with his first spliff for the day and that all important cup of filter
The early morning sunlight was just warm enough to settle the dew and dry a few odds and ends
... and the toilet & shower had a decent view. Even if you did not have to go, you did. How could you miss an opporyunity to take a dump in a setting like this ;D
En-route to Twyfelfontein and the first river bed crossing for the day. This was a total non-event by now in terms of difficulty or skill involved. We were very rudely to discover later that same afternoon that the true test was still on itâ??s way.
Iâ??m sure that many other Adventurers to the Twyfelfontein area in the past remember this area as a truly stark desert and devoid of much grass. We were to experience it differently and the golden wheat fields looked so inviting, but beware â?? beneath those sheaves lurked treacherous soft sand
The lodge was all we expected and not. The famous pic from the carpark was duly taken and we were warned in many prevous ride reports of the costs of the food served on the upper deck behind the large arched entrance. This was expected and we accepted it.
We arrived as the remnants of breakfast was being cleared and the graciously allowed us to have a meal before they cleared the dining room
Considering that a late breakfast was had, we decided to visit the bar that is so famous in all the pictures of this place and have a beer
The bar rats, mice or waterever they are, are very tame
Looking back however on the plains we had entered from painted an entirely different picture to what we imagined in the weeks preceeding this trip. A scene of contrasts â?? the well manicured lawn in the foreground and the â??not so dryâ? desert floor further away. The very professional and well groomed staff and the tame animals and birds which frequented the bar area, the â??stuffedâ? lifelike sized bushman stalking the pale Swedish tourists just arriving from a dusty tour of the area, and of course the beer served in iced glasses right here in the warming desert morning.
There is fuel at Twyfelfontein. They take credit cards and then you pay at the reception. The workshops where the fuel is, is 3km away and there it is cash only
The MSR Dromedary bladders worked very well and were very easy to secure to the bikes as well
The two "star" attractions of the area were a bit disappointing, but we were on the ride of our life and nothing could dampen our spirits
The first was the Burnt Mountain - ecologically it is in a bad way and tourists are requested not to climb it's slopes
The second were the Organ Pipes
With the Burnt mountain behind us and adventure again peering through our dusty visors we entered a new chapter of trip. This is crater country and soon the wide white marbled roads changed into a narrow jeep track underscored even bigger marbles and later with dark jagged stones and the odd sandy strips to keep you on your toes â?? literally.
Exploring this area without a GPS is potentially fatal. Poppipants & Funacide had the foresight to install Tracks 4 Africa and without this we would have be solidly screwed. Every now and then a track would shoot off to the left or enter from the right, leaving one wondering as which way the intended route actually went. In that desolate landscape the compass helps but it still leaves you with this feeling of total isolation and yet an anticipation of what lies around the next corner or over the next hill. This is soul food, and within one the sense of adventure coupled with mind devoid of the concerns back home just spurs one on & on, we felt the joy of life.
Soon we reached the hills and our experience in DS riding started getting tested to the full. We discussed this many times over the rest of the afternoon and agreed that this area is probably on the A-list of our trip and yetâ?¦. we would not recommend this route to anyone who cannot handle sand or rocks and definitely not to anyone who is not 100% comfortable with their bike.
Poppipants found this very amusing and the next picture seemed to describe our mood at that moment - WHERETHEFAKAWE ;D ;D
Funacide stopped to check his GPS and decided to do it under the only tree in the area. Crossing the middle hump had him totally off-balance. We had to do some crashbar "re-alignment"
The plains were simply awesome and the barren beauty all around us was simply breathtaking
The next riverbed section claimed another victim and Poppipants went down. He is a good rider and I take my hat off to him as the pig was heavy and loaded. We were also starting to get tired.
The riverbed just never seemed to end
Then it was Funacides turn again, and this time it hurt. He was winded and sat there for a while, trying to get his breath back. He was doing quite well, but the previous 4x4 that had been this way decided to leave the track at this point and the spoor it left had disasterous consequences for Fun
We were extremely fortunate to have done this section on a relatively cool and cloudy winters day as this place must be worse than hadaes in the scorching summertime.
The KTMâ??s were fortunately fitted with 16 tooth sprockets in front and this made the technical sections somewhat easier. The 1150GS, in my mind the best GS ever built was rock solid in itâ??s approach. Poppipants was however very cautious in his approach as a detached bashplate at this point would have been disasterous. His clutch was not too happy and was taking strain.
The next section should have been a warning for what was to come
The scenery was breathtaking and we probably spent more time than we should have, taking photos and looking at the sights
Pensive......
Divorce pass was a challenge and thankfully experience, â??moer voortâ? bravado and some dumb luck got us down the rock slabs and through the deep holes made by 4x4â??s as they spun their wheels to make it up.
The next challenge awaited to test our dwindling courage and energy in the form of a winding silted up riverbed. Funacide, by far the most skilled rider in the group tackled it with gusto and with his earlier experience very fresh in his mind made an extreme effort to keep the rubber down and the shiney side up.
Our water supplies were dangerously low and we started getting that tingling feeling in our fingers and lips warning of possible dehydration
We rested more often now, however very conscious of the sun having long left itâ??s zenith and ever slowly creeping towards the horizon.
It was on one of these really tricky and rocky ledges in the track that Poppipants blasted his way over the obstacles with dogged determination that his clutch finally had enough and erupted in a cloud of oil filled smoke, reeking of burnt rubber and oil. We were sure we were now screwed. How would we get this big pig out of the forgotten world. After a 10 minute break we determinedly carried on with Poppipants taking the lead, flying over the obstacles and hills with the determined resolve NEVER to use his â??stuffed-upâ? clutch again.
Just before Brandberg we took a shortcut over a hill, and �� sweet mother of the Desert we saw it ���
a normal, wide, white pebbled Namibian road. Funacide and Poppipants dismounted and kissed the surface like no Pope ever entering Rome has ever in all time done before. With about 240km to go to Swakopmund, we were still in for a long ride in the dark, but at least the road would be good.
The euphoria did not last long and soon the sand turned into deep sand and once again we were on the pegs with the bikes twisting and weaving, threatening to throw us off. Every now and then I would loose my nerve and settle my rear on the seat for a second, only to reminded that this created an even worse result and so up it was again. It was during one of these â??technical momentsâ? that I lost it and it was my turn to kiss mother earth.
Picture duly taken and Poppi helped me up. Riding â??offâ? the road was worse. The surface looked hard but was deceptively soft and soon we up to our axles.
This is when I noticed the FI (Fuel Injection) light on. Now if I had only concentrated for a while, I would have picked up the error code. The KTM has a wonderful field fault finding feature and depending on the flashing sequence, one can identify the source of the problem. I did not check until it was too late���
The bike cut out�� strange I thought. I started it and carried on�� then it cut out again and would not start.
The power relay fuse had blown. I changed the fuse and started the bike. It ran for a few seconds and thenâ?¦. Nothing â?¦.. â?? blown again
With it almost dark, I feverishly stripped off my luggage, retrieved my tools, removed the bashplate and checked all the wiring around the battery and starter. Not finding a problem, I replaced the 10A fuse yet again and started the motor. It purrrred only like a katoom can. Voila â?? problem not found, but resolved. Closed everything up, packed up, mounted and started again. Again that beautiful V-twin announced to the world it was awake and ready to roost.
Drop into gear, twisted the throttle and����.. Nothing����..
FAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKk
Ok, now we were in shit street. We had about 3 or 4 litres of water and no hope of leaving this place tonight.
Funacide decided to ride on a see if he could find a bakkie at Mile 108, about 70km away, and possibly some water. It got dark and after about 2 hours we got very concerned for his safety and well-being. With tents pitched in the sand and dinner prepared from our emergency stash of freeze dried food, we waited a bit and then decided to turn in for the night. The faint sound of a motorcycle idling through the sand announced his most welcome return. He had done 140km in the dark in freezing weather and saw neither soul nor any hope of water, The can of spaghetti and meatballs he devoured had never tasted so good.
The day had ended rather unexpectedly. We settled into troubled sleep, My bikes undetermined problem of great concern, Poppiâ??s clutch on his mind and Funacideâ?¦â?¦ mmmm not sure about Funacide, but his snoring told the desert creatures that he was visiting the sandman.