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- Feb 6, 2006
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- Cape Town, deep in the lentils
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- KTM 990 Adventure
Day 9
Puros to Palmwag
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13TXjR1d-XM
At the beginning of this whole escapade, I remember thinking at Windhoek in the dealership, “12 days? 12 days is a damn long time! That’s nearly 2 weeks of doing something intense” I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stay focused for that long.
Today certainly felt a little like it was the last corner before the final straight. Also, it was good to get back into the known routine.
Getting my bit of Connectivity
Getting ready
We apparently we were going to go down a riverbed that had Hardy a little jumpy about the probability of bumping into Elephants.
Looks serious!
I’ve seen enough ride reports to know that I really wanted the elephants not to screw up the opportunity to go down an iconic bit of Namibia. Another bit of newness was that Phil and I were Tail End Charlie today. We were going to be on the big dust suck concertina.
It was my turn to be on the manual.
Right off the bat, I had a good giggle… We had to get across the puros river before we’d even warmed up. It was a long fat section of deep sand under the already beating sun. We lined up behind the queue and waited for all to get across one by one. It was just dust and a bit of drama but no-body fell off and then it was just us to go with Jaco bringing up sweep. I let Phil go and was going to ride just behind him.
As I hit the deeper sand, the bike started farting and losing momentum. ****! I’d forgotten to turn the traction control off and in my frantic haste to gear down and at the same time try hit the traction control trigger to turn it off, I hit neutral too. The bike came to an immediate stop. Best just to relax, get my act together and start again. The problem is that getting going again in hot deep sand isn’t fun. I got it all set, hooked second, dumped the clutch and let the revs head far north.
Just milliseconds later I hear this huge cry from behind me? Then it all clicked….
Jaco had followed me in and not expecting me to stall, had come to an emergency halt a meter or two directly behind me. Just then , he got Puros’ finest sand bath – it was down his jacket, in his helmet, even up heis sleeves! I know Jaco very well – we’ve spent quite a bit of time together on trips and I knew two things as I got out the river bed;
I was laughing my head off in my helmet and he wouldn’t be!
He would think I did it on purpose and it might even cost me points!
I stopped once he’d made it out and tried not to laugh as I explained and apologised.
Immediately the world changed. It goes from utter desert to this oasis between these massive mountains. The track wound itself down the river crossing from one side to the other. It’s a beautiful thing. But, it was clear that Hardy and John were jumpy and keeping it slow.
It’s a bit surreal splashing down a river in a massive desert. Some of the crossings and puddles were not shallow.
I was pretty soaked in no time. Sidi’s are not waterproof, I had a small lake in my boots but it was refreshing and a change from the 40 degree heat.
Glenn and Grant were the team ahead of us. Grant started well, but it takes it out of you if you are nervous and not wanting to hurt yourself more. His ribs, even though he was well medicated, still reminded him that taking a fall wasn’t going to be fun. I could see that he was running out of gas, he was dropping the bike every second or 3rd stretch of deep sand.
Glenn and I would race over, check he’d not hurt anything, pick his bike up and carry on. I was loving the canyon, I’m not sure Grant was.
After a particularly sticky bit where it took us a bit of time to get going again, we came around a corner, the group had stopped and were all pointing back the way we came? This was the end of the road. There was a bull elephant, mother and calf just up ahead just off to the side in the thicker reeds and bush. It was discretion that owned the day.
In all probability, those elephants would have probably not even have blinked at our little circus. However, Honda Quest was dependant on not getting into the news for the wrongs reasons and Hardy had warned us that being safe rather than sorry was going to be the order of the day. So, we took some very distant pictures and headed back the way we came.
I hate seeing guys struggle. To help Grant out a bit, I started cutting paths off the main track to avoid the soft sand bits. I was staying mostly in the hardpack, the vegetation or the wet riverbed. It worked. He didn’t fall once on the way out.
But, right at the end once out of the canyon and re-crossing the Puros River at a place a little further up than the place we’d originally crossed at,
Grant had a monster crash. He’d made it across the bed, but on climbing up the bank on the other side, he’d gotten kicked off line, hit a vertical bit and been launched skyward to disappear over the other side in a small explosion of dust. ****!
Amazingly, after dusting him off, nothing was broken on either him or the bike, but he was a bit pale and sore. Or should I say a bit more sore. He’d dodged another one. In my video, he says a few words. Tough man that’s for sure.
I don’t remember much of the day after that.
It was a bit anticlimactic for me and I suspect others too; We’d had to abandon a highly anticipated part of the trip and, we were re-tracing some of our steps so there wasn’t the sense of newness and anticipation. Just the regular banter at all the punctures and rest stops. Punctures now were a non-event. Everyone was very well practiced at them, I don’t think it was taking us more than 10 or so minutes to get them done.
Superman on the left…
I do remember the road through one part being savage. It was so eroded that it didn’t need grading, it needed to be resurfaced. Namibia, apparently, has been suffering a bit financially as well as experiencing some challenges similar to ours in the corruption department. Their once fabled dirt roads were apparently not immune to these challenges and were taking a battering as a result. Johannes was scathing in his observations.
It was another super-hot day. Riding in wet boots isn’t much fun. At the lunch/puncture stop, off came my boots. Standing in my wet socks on those hot rocks did the trick. My socks and boots were nearly bone dry by the time we got rolling again. For those of you who’ve tried to dry MX boots, you know how hot it has to be to achieve that little feat.
My phone got a little misty from the water…
I gave some kids a lift again at a fuel stop
Open road again
There’s giraffe’s back there, (crap pictures due to the water)
I think this was my least enjoyed day. Phil and I were super relaxed and just rolling along soaking it in, but, I wasn’t unhappy to be rolling into Palmwag.
Quick rest…
That evening at the bar, it was great to relax and recount the days experiences laughing at someone or another’s expense. We’d become quite close.
Puros to Palmwag
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13TXjR1d-XM
At the beginning of this whole escapade, I remember thinking at Windhoek in the dealership, “12 days? 12 days is a damn long time! That’s nearly 2 weeks of doing something intense” I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stay focused for that long.
Today certainly felt a little like it was the last corner before the final straight. Also, it was good to get back into the known routine.
Getting my bit of Connectivity
Getting ready
We apparently we were going to go down a riverbed that had Hardy a little jumpy about the probability of bumping into Elephants.
Looks serious!
I’ve seen enough ride reports to know that I really wanted the elephants not to screw up the opportunity to go down an iconic bit of Namibia. Another bit of newness was that Phil and I were Tail End Charlie today. We were going to be on the big dust suck concertina.
It was my turn to be on the manual.
Right off the bat, I had a good giggle… We had to get across the puros river before we’d even warmed up. It was a long fat section of deep sand under the already beating sun. We lined up behind the queue and waited for all to get across one by one. It was just dust and a bit of drama but no-body fell off and then it was just us to go with Jaco bringing up sweep. I let Phil go and was going to ride just behind him.
As I hit the deeper sand, the bike started farting and losing momentum. ****! I’d forgotten to turn the traction control off and in my frantic haste to gear down and at the same time try hit the traction control trigger to turn it off, I hit neutral too. The bike came to an immediate stop. Best just to relax, get my act together and start again. The problem is that getting going again in hot deep sand isn’t fun. I got it all set, hooked second, dumped the clutch and let the revs head far north.
Just milliseconds later I hear this huge cry from behind me? Then it all clicked….
Jaco had followed me in and not expecting me to stall, had come to an emergency halt a meter or two directly behind me. Just then , he got Puros’ finest sand bath – it was down his jacket, in his helmet, even up heis sleeves! I know Jaco very well – we’ve spent quite a bit of time together on trips and I knew two things as I got out the river bed;
I was laughing my head off in my helmet and he wouldn’t be!
He would think I did it on purpose and it might even cost me points!
I stopped once he’d made it out and tried not to laugh as I explained and apologised.
Immediately the world changed. It goes from utter desert to this oasis between these massive mountains. The track wound itself down the river crossing from one side to the other. It’s a beautiful thing. But, it was clear that Hardy and John were jumpy and keeping it slow.
It’s a bit surreal splashing down a river in a massive desert. Some of the crossings and puddles were not shallow.
I was pretty soaked in no time. Sidi’s are not waterproof, I had a small lake in my boots but it was refreshing and a change from the 40 degree heat.
Glenn and Grant were the team ahead of us. Grant started well, but it takes it out of you if you are nervous and not wanting to hurt yourself more. His ribs, even though he was well medicated, still reminded him that taking a fall wasn’t going to be fun. I could see that he was running out of gas, he was dropping the bike every second or 3rd stretch of deep sand.
Glenn and I would race over, check he’d not hurt anything, pick his bike up and carry on. I was loving the canyon, I’m not sure Grant was.
After a particularly sticky bit where it took us a bit of time to get going again, we came around a corner, the group had stopped and were all pointing back the way we came? This was the end of the road. There was a bull elephant, mother and calf just up ahead just off to the side in the thicker reeds and bush. It was discretion that owned the day.
In all probability, those elephants would have probably not even have blinked at our little circus. However, Honda Quest was dependant on not getting into the news for the wrongs reasons and Hardy had warned us that being safe rather than sorry was going to be the order of the day. So, we took some very distant pictures and headed back the way we came.
I hate seeing guys struggle. To help Grant out a bit, I started cutting paths off the main track to avoid the soft sand bits. I was staying mostly in the hardpack, the vegetation or the wet riverbed. It worked. He didn’t fall once on the way out.
But, right at the end once out of the canyon and re-crossing the Puros River at a place a little further up than the place we’d originally crossed at,
Grant had a monster crash. He’d made it across the bed, but on climbing up the bank on the other side, he’d gotten kicked off line, hit a vertical bit and been launched skyward to disappear over the other side in a small explosion of dust. ****!
Amazingly, after dusting him off, nothing was broken on either him or the bike, but he was a bit pale and sore. Or should I say a bit more sore. He’d dodged another one. In my video, he says a few words. Tough man that’s for sure.
I don’t remember much of the day after that.
It was a bit anticlimactic for me and I suspect others too; We’d had to abandon a highly anticipated part of the trip and, we were re-tracing some of our steps so there wasn’t the sense of newness and anticipation. Just the regular banter at all the punctures and rest stops. Punctures now were a non-event. Everyone was very well practiced at them, I don’t think it was taking us more than 10 or so minutes to get them done.
Superman on the left…
I do remember the road through one part being savage. It was so eroded that it didn’t need grading, it needed to be resurfaced. Namibia, apparently, has been suffering a bit financially as well as experiencing some challenges similar to ours in the corruption department. Their once fabled dirt roads were apparently not immune to these challenges and were taking a battering as a result. Johannes was scathing in his observations.
It was another super-hot day. Riding in wet boots isn’t much fun. At the lunch/puncture stop, off came my boots. Standing in my wet socks on those hot rocks did the trick. My socks and boots were nearly bone dry by the time we got rolling again. For those of you who’ve tried to dry MX boots, you know how hot it has to be to achieve that little feat.
My phone got a little misty from the water…
I gave some kids a lift again at a fuel stop
Open road again
There’s giraffe’s back there, (crap pictures due to the water)
I think this was my least enjoyed day. Phil and I were super relaxed and just rolling along soaking it in, but, I wasn’t unhappy to be rolling into Palmwag.
Quick rest…
That evening at the bar, it was great to relax and recount the days experiences laughing at someone or another’s expense. We’d become quite close.
) on my bike and thought about more nothing. Incredible . There are normally a multitude of voices in my head clamoring for attention, but for one sweet hour ... nothing. Bliss!
