We were on a road only an Anglo or De Beers would make. I kept expecting a toll booth to appear.
Just then . . . . . .
I suspect Jarod could not take the broad sweeping tantalizing Buffels Rivier taunting him one second longer.
Our leaders stopped, with their bikes pointed towards a track that led into the river bed. We were not going to wait for an invitation, and ploughed headlong into the river. Some of us a little too literally. Clearly under the conviction that their sand riding legs lay buried in the sand and were going to find them come what may. Others were sure theirs lay on the opposite bank and rapidly corrected course to get them,....
Very soon, however, the entire crew were thundering down the river like the Charge of the Light Brigade