- Joined
- Jul 19, 2014
- Messages
- 721
- Reaction score
- 165
- Location
- Table View, Cape Town
- Bike
- Honda CRF-250 Rally
The Easter weekend seemed to materialise without much warning. On the spur of the moment, Lance and I decided to join a 2-day Moto-Adventure SA trip, led by Mouton.
Day 01: When things go right (sort of)
Route (rough)
Cape Town-Worcester-De Doorns-Touwsriver-Matjiesfontein
Route statistics
Distance: 294 km
Elapsed Time: 7:51:36 (37 km/h)
Moving time: 5:09:06 (57 km/h)
Everyone met at the Winelands Engen on the Saturday morning. The group was nice and small: 8 bikes and 9 people. There were quite a few who were new to biking: one pillion was on her first ever bike trip, the one other lady on her own bike had been riding for about a year, one guy was recently back on a bike after a 40-year hiatus, etc. It made for a relaxed pace, which I quite enjoyed. For once, I was not always to be found in my usual spot, i.e. the last one just before the back-up vehicle.
We rode some pretty tar back-roads from Rawsonville. After De Doorns, we turned off onto some obscure gravel tracks. Mouton had to arrange with the local farmers to ride these roads and to leave strategic gates unlocked for our group. Unfortunately one of the first farmers on the route was away and therefore the gate was locked. But all was not lost. The bikes could still find a way around. The back-up vehicle had to reroute. We would meet up with it again at our designated lunch spot.
Lance, always gung-ho, decided to head out into the veld; not really realising that there was actually a track hidden somewhere in the bushes that would meet up with our planned route. I seem to have (misplaced) trust in him, so I followed, along with some others. It took a while for everyone to extricate themselves from the fynbos.
A second (apparent) barrier appeared: another gate with two very business-like locks. Mouton started searching for a possible alternate route. Lance, always of the opinion that “there must be a way”, decided to take a closer look at the gate. The locks were there all right, but they were just hanging around as décor. The chain around the gate was not actually locked. Happily, all of us continued on our journey. The road that followed was a very fun tweespoor, with some loose rocks and technical bits. It would have been scary if you had asked me to ride it not even two years ago, but now I was thoroughly enjoying it.
Living life on the edge:
We stopped for a break at an old, disused railway tunnel. The inside was amazing, because there was no cement or masonry lining for most of its length.
You had to ride slowly, so as not to kick up dust. The locals (bats) like clear air.
Our next stop was at a monument to commemorate people who had lost their lives when the train derailed.
Some more scenery:
This steep hill looked much more imposing in real life:
This picture flattened what was actually an off-camber with a rocky donga on the left:
Our lunch stop was at Pilgrimage at Matroosberg. Only one soul braved the swimming pool. The temperatures had been rather cool the entire day.
We climbed back onto gravel after our lunch. These roads were deceptive. In general, they were easier than the morning run, but there were some booby-traps interspersed randomly across the route. On trying to overtake someone, I spotted a gargantuan (porcupine-dug?) hole on the right-hand-side of the road, which I could not hope to miss on my current trajectory. I rapidly changed course and fell back in line with a hammering heart. I think I’d be ok right where I was thank you very much!
The next obstacle that caught me out was one of the very many water-eroded ditches that crossed the road. Some were mini, but others had quite harsh edges. I hit one of them hard. Roughly a km or so onwards, my back wheel suddenly locked up. I can thank my lucky stars that it did so on a straight stretch. I stuck to my bike like a barnacle to a rock, while the back fish-tailed left and right. I waited it out until the bike had slowed to a decent speed before experimenting with the front brakes. Meanwhile, my brain was whizzing through the possibilities. Flat tyre? Thrown and jammed chain? It turned out it was an old problem that had now officially turned dangerous.
The F650GS is not really designed for more serious off-road or hard hits. The number plate mounting is in such a position that a standard-sized number plate will touch the rear wheel when the bike’s suspension bottoms out. Given that I have knobblie tyres, the knobbles catches the number plate; dragging it beneath the bike.
In past rides, either the number plate had progressively lost bits and pieces or the tail-piece had snapped at the mountings, but had remained held on by some wires. This had previously happened at low speeds and I would be alerted by a burning smell and strange sounds coming from the back of my bike as the number plate from the dangling tail-piece dragged across the rear wheel. This time I had been going too fast and my new helmet is much more sound-proof. I did not hear anything. Eventually, the whole tail-piece had broken free and been carried forward until it jammed at the front end of the rear-wheel arch. I will be looking into getting a smaller number plate in future…
Previously:
This time:
We stayed over in Matjiesfontein. Lance and I started chatting with others who were staying close-by for the simple reason that we shared a common interest: bikes! This group was doing a recce of routes, as they have started a company (RETZA) that will take people on tours on Royal Enfields. They were kind enough to let us take their bikes for a spin.
Lance and I trying out a different mode of transport:
Day 01: When things go right (sort of)
Route (rough)
Cape Town-Worcester-De Doorns-Touwsriver-Matjiesfontein
Route statistics
Distance: 294 km
Elapsed Time: 7:51:36 (37 km/h)
Moving time: 5:09:06 (57 km/h)
Everyone met at the Winelands Engen on the Saturday morning. The group was nice and small: 8 bikes and 9 people. There were quite a few who were new to biking: one pillion was on her first ever bike trip, the one other lady on her own bike had been riding for about a year, one guy was recently back on a bike after a 40-year hiatus, etc. It made for a relaxed pace, which I quite enjoyed. For once, I was not always to be found in my usual spot, i.e. the last one just before the back-up vehicle.
We rode some pretty tar back-roads from Rawsonville. After De Doorns, we turned off onto some obscure gravel tracks. Mouton had to arrange with the local farmers to ride these roads and to leave strategic gates unlocked for our group. Unfortunately one of the first farmers on the route was away and therefore the gate was locked. But all was not lost. The bikes could still find a way around. The back-up vehicle had to reroute. We would meet up with it again at our designated lunch spot.
Lance, always gung-ho, decided to head out into the veld; not really realising that there was actually a track hidden somewhere in the bushes that would meet up with our planned route. I seem to have (misplaced) trust in him, so I followed, along with some others. It took a while for everyone to extricate themselves from the fynbos.
A second (apparent) barrier appeared: another gate with two very business-like locks. Mouton started searching for a possible alternate route. Lance, always of the opinion that “there must be a way”, decided to take a closer look at the gate. The locks were there all right, but they were just hanging around as décor. The chain around the gate was not actually locked. Happily, all of us continued on our journey. The road that followed was a very fun tweespoor, with some loose rocks and technical bits. It would have been scary if you had asked me to ride it not even two years ago, but now I was thoroughly enjoying it.
Living life on the edge:
We stopped for a break at an old, disused railway tunnel. The inside was amazing, because there was no cement or masonry lining for most of its length.
You had to ride slowly, so as not to kick up dust. The locals (bats) like clear air.
Our next stop was at a monument to commemorate people who had lost their lives when the train derailed.
Some more scenery:
This steep hill looked much more imposing in real life:
This picture flattened what was actually an off-camber with a rocky donga on the left:
Our lunch stop was at Pilgrimage at Matroosberg. Only one soul braved the swimming pool. The temperatures had been rather cool the entire day.
We climbed back onto gravel after our lunch. These roads were deceptive. In general, they were easier than the morning run, but there were some booby-traps interspersed randomly across the route. On trying to overtake someone, I spotted a gargantuan (porcupine-dug?) hole on the right-hand-side of the road, which I could not hope to miss on my current trajectory. I rapidly changed course and fell back in line with a hammering heart. I think I’d be ok right where I was thank you very much!
The next obstacle that caught me out was one of the very many water-eroded ditches that crossed the road. Some were mini, but others had quite harsh edges. I hit one of them hard. Roughly a km or so onwards, my back wheel suddenly locked up. I can thank my lucky stars that it did so on a straight stretch. I stuck to my bike like a barnacle to a rock, while the back fish-tailed left and right. I waited it out until the bike had slowed to a decent speed before experimenting with the front brakes. Meanwhile, my brain was whizzing through the possibilities. Flat tyre? Thrown and jammed chain? It turned out it was an old problem that had now officially turned dangerous.
The F650GS is not really designed for more serious off-road or hard hits. The number plate mounting is in such a position that a standard-sized number plate will touch the rear wheel when the bike’s suspension bottoms out. Given that I have knobblie tyres, the knobbles catches the number plate; dragging it beneath the bike.
In past rides, either the number plate had progressively lost bits and pieces or the tail-piece had snapped at the mountings, but had remained held on by some wires. This had previously happened at low speeds and I would be alerted by a burning smell and strange sounds coming from the back of my bike as the number plate from the dangling tail-piece dragged across the rear wheel. This time I had been going too fast and my new helmet is much more sound-proof. I did not hear anything. Eventually, the whole tail-piece had broken free and been carried forward until it jammed at the front end of the rear-wheel arch. I will be looking into getting a smaller number plate in future…
Previously:
This time:
We stayed over in Matjiesfontein. Lance and I started chatting with others who were staying close-by for the simple reason that we shared a common interest: bikes! This group was doing a recce of routes, as they have started a company (RETZA) that will take people on tours on Royal Enfields. They were kind enough to let us take their bikes for a spin.
Lance and I trying out a different mode of transport:
