The whole morning a cool breeze and fleecy clouds eased the heat, as predicted by Gerrit, but once we reach the top of the mountain, the clouds stop following us things and the breeze refuses to cross the “border”. Things start to heat up.
For most of the first half of the route, the gravel road is very similar Eselbank/Wupperthal, and to what I rode when I got lost on my September holiday - loose warm sand covered with skittish red-black marbles, an ever-moving surface, with here and there a short steep up- or downhill over loose sharp rocks or big embedded sharp rocks. Point the front wheel, and open up. Let the bike do the climbing, and hang on. Don’t lose your balance!
We pass through a farm yard surrounded by high fences, and I’m very glad to see both gates open. A black and white border collie keeps a watchful eye on us as we sedately saunter our bikes past the house. Around us are the remnants of failed rooibos plantations.
We carry on at my steady pace. Keith is the epitome of patience, and our Scottish Leader professes himself comfortable at this speed. He is on his feet most of time, and even I cautiously bop up now and then when the bike wiggles in the sand like a twerking carnival dancer.
Oh I forgot to mention…. there are a few closed gates on this road. Keith starts riding ahead to open them, and insists on also closing them, and Scottish Leader and I start racing to be the next to a closed gate, to return the favour. True gentlemen both, they refuse to let me open or close any gates, but I refuse to back down and insist on taking my turn.
Keith always lets me lead, but thinking that Gary might be champing at the bit for a bit more speed, I graciously secede pole position and motion him to go ahead. For a while he seems fine, but then he starts to ride slower until I’m almost riding on his back wheel. My graciousness evaporates and I start to earnestly look for opportunities to pass our Scottish Leader.
The surface squiggles never let up, and the bikes go waltzing sedately over the terrain, with a quickstep here and there to keep us on our toes.
My opportunity to overtake comes soon enough, when Gary’s undeveloped gravel eyes deceive him and he swoops to the left into another failed rooibos patch, where a sandy stretch soon halts his progress. I follow the actual road bending to the right and braap past with a touch of schadenfreude, checking in my rearview mirror to see Keith stopping near Gary.
The grim smugness is short lived when I face a sudden steep hill with tight zigzags. I can’t zig or zag for dear life, so I aim at the smallest of the rocks and urge Blue to hop it, which he admirably does. Darn I love this bike!! I sing odes to Blue in my head as I bring him to a standstill, somewhat ashamed at not waiting to check that Scottish Leader got out of the rooibos patch fine, even though I know Keith is ably assisting him.
I wait. And wait. And wait some more.
What a good-looking bike I have!
I finally throw in the towel and turn around to head back down the tricky hill, thinking I probably need to help push Gary’s behemoth out of the sand. Just as I start rolling back, Gary pops up on top of the hill, and I almost power slide the bike to turn it around to stay ahead of him. Later on he admitted that it was difficult to get out of that patch, and he’d laid the bike down for a little rest.
We pass some high point and I skid to a shaky halt for the obligatory pictures. Gary gooi’s a Bring It On pose in the background.
Yup, more marbly sand …
Hint of a valley in the heat-hazed, dusty distance
Same beautiful gravel road awaits…
