Richtersveld 2 buddies on two old bikes - 2002 (or so)

[Bliknêrs]

The year - 2002 (I think because my wife missed me so much my son was conceived  :thumleft: when I got back and he was born in 2003)

The scenario
My best friend is about to leave for Australia. Permanently.
We are army buddies.
I was best man at his wedding (my English speech after too much Dutch courage was a disaster).
I taught him how to wheelie his FZR.
He taught me about drugs (didn't stick), atheism (didn't stick) and living life (stuck)
We were die hard sportsbike fans (R1's) and track day junkies.
We had no kids, good jobs and enough money.
We went to the track, rode every weekend, went to Rallies and partied.

We had a jol, and now he was leaving.

So one evening before he left we sat around a fire, got all nostalgic and decided there and then to get "scramblers" as he called them and go see the Richtersveld.

Like one last trip to remember SA by, to think back on fondly, to bore people with the memories and photos.

This RR was the end result and although the trip actually happened, some parts of the RR are fictitious.

I recently found it on an old hard drive and as far as I know it's never been posted anywhere, so if you guys don't mind I'd like to share it here.

Here be some pics

 

[Chrisl]

Bliknêrs ek hoop daar's nog. :thumleft:

Tipies van daai XL's. Lek olie tussen die headers en brand dit jou voet as mens met somer ATTGATT (plakkies) ry!! :biggrin:

 

[Bliknêrs]

Chapter 1
Die wit bike vertel dit.

My name is Totally eXeLent. I'm a Honda XL500S. In white, you know the colour of champions.

I started life in my native land of Japan, you know, where the Japanese used to live, o, maybe 30 years ago, which is a lot for a bike like me.

Assembled by eager little Japanese hands, I was soon loaded into a container with some family members and shipped off to South Africa. I remember standing in the showroom in Cape Town for 3 days when this fat farmer with short pants and a beer gut walked in, sat on me, felt me up and disappeared.

Just as I thought I've escaped a life of creaking suspension and that number 12 vellies kicking life into me on early mornings, I was loaded onto a dirty bakkie and carted off to a wine farm in Stellenbosch.

I spend years doing faithful service and in the end grew quite fond of old Sakkie de Kock. He changed my oil now and then and even took me to town when I felt sick where I could recuperate in the bike shop. Some of the things I heard in the bike shop made me feel fortunate to have such a loving caring master. I even remember Sakkie washing me once, early one Sunday morning after he accidentally threw up on me after a rugby match at the neighbours house the previous day.

Then one day Sakkie bought a young new model home on the back of his bakkie, and I was relegated to standby duty, which I didn't mind. Soon I was just being ridden when the young one went to town for repairs. I got quite fond of some of the chickens roosting on my seat.

Then one day, master Mark, who's started working on the farm the previous summer, came in and loaded some stuff onto my back. I liked Master Mark, he was always nice to me, even oiled my chain once or twice, and we got along well.

Then we left on an epic trip. It was the longest trip I've ever been on, we even had to fill up with petrol along the way at what I later found out was a called a garage - it's the same as the fuel tank on the farm but people have to pay for it.

I saw the weirdest things. Cars with lots of people in it, other cars with small wheels and seats with people in it in the back doing insane speeds. I even heard music coming from one.

I was blown away.
Then, after we rode for about half an hour, I was really tired because I'm not used to all the excitement, we got to Cape Town. I must have covered a fifty  kilometres that day!

In Cape Town I was parked in a proper garage. I liked Mark. I never knew he had a wife and kids. After about a week I started to realise this is my new home. Master Mark took me on short rides, sometimes with his children on the front. We even went to an event called the Toy Run and I never knew there so many bikes on the earth. I couldn't believe my eyes at some of the bikes I saw. It made me feel slightly old.

Then just as I was settling in at my new house, another person I never seen before came and sat on me, bouncing up and down, then started me up and rode around the block. I didn't know what was happening. Then I saw him and master Mark shaking hands and this time I was loaded onto the back of a bakkie and taken on a long, long ride.

This person rode me a lot, I hardly ever had chance to catch my breath. We went riding in the bushes in Gordons Bay, even went over the mountain on a train track, which was frightening. Every day I had to ride to what I later found out was work where he'd park me with some other snobbish bikes, all shiny and new, before disappearing into a building only to reappear again hours later. All day long I had to stand in the sun, with the new bikes making fun of me. Even in his garage there was this shiny new bike that only got ridden over weekends. We didn't get along well and I was always blamed for the oil puddles on the floor even though I'm old and find it difficult to keep my bodily fluids in.

Now I wasn't as young as I used to be and the long rides were slowly but surely taking a toll on my sensitive crank. I've had a bad crank for years. I tried my best but it wasn't long before I had to put an end to this madness. So I had a breakdown.
I wasn't taken to a motorcycle mechanic as usually happened. My engine was ripped out and a new cam was fitted, but that wasn't the problem so when I was started I left him in no doubt as to how unhappy I was. Again my engine was removed and this time send to a mechanic, who, thankfully found out my crank needed replacement. In about two weeks my engine was back and I felt better than ever.

Then one day another person I never saw arrived with another bakkie. On the back of the bakkie was another bike, a red one. It didn't look much better than me and was also an on/off road so I we got along well. The red bike was taken off and I was strapped onto the back of the bakkie and carted away. I later found that this kind soul was master Mark’s brother and that his home was also my new home.

 

[madmike999]

:thumleft: :thumleft: :thumleft:

 

[Loaks]

Baie cool RR

 

[Bokveld]

      Ek geniet jou storie, Chris.Baie goed geskryf.

 

[Bliknêrs]

Dankie ouens, ek sien nou daar is n stuk oor die rooi bike weg, maar ek sal maar rondom dit werk.
Verder moet ek bietjie vloekwoorde ens uithaal en dit vat bietjie tyd maar soos ek dit weer lees raak ek sommer weer nostalgies.
Dis in Ingels geskryf want die ander helfte van die span was hoog brits (CT Southern Suburbs) en hy wou dit ook lees.

 

[Dorsland]

gesub  :sip:

 

[TrailBlazer]

Tick Tock, Tick Tock...  :thumleft:

 

[westfrogger]

:thumleft:

 

[Bliknêrs]

Hero 1 called Jan - bio, background etc.

Please note: The characters in this RR are fictitious. Anyone resembling them is better off dead.

It was around two o'clock on a sunny October afternoon. Summer has just started and the weather was glorious with hardly a breath of wind and clear blue skies as far as the eye can see.

Our hero, whom we shall call, er Jan – a top engineer and recognised genius in his field – whatever that might be - consultant to private enterprise and governments from all over the world, was sitting at work - bored with multi tiered client server database connected web enabled projects and 1024 bit encryption algorithms. Legend in his own lunch time.

He was thinking back on the weekends braai and holding the latest copy of a popular motorcycling magazine in his muscular, sun-bed tanned hands when his keen blue eyes caught a write-up on the Desert Run. Brushing a sun bleached lock from his hawk-like brow, Jan, a keen road rider of extraordinary talent and unlimited enthusiasm, sat up straighter, his soft posterior making a soft farting sound as he moved on the black leather chair to get comfortable.

He read the article with interest, a master in the art of speed reading, his eyes skimmed over the words at lightning speed without missing a thing. Off road riding was something he'd grown up with and secretly missed but somehow never found the time in his busy life of corporate ladder climbing, ass kissing and cocktail parties.

He also vaguely recalls dirt riding plans being made at the weekends braai with his buddy, Axel.

Continuing along this line of thought, his sharp mind immediately wondered how much he’ll have to pay for a scrambler so he could go on such an extraordinary adventure, so off to the intarnet he went, typing the www addresses with said tanned and muscular fingers without a single mistake, then pressing the enter key on his standard QWERTY keyboard.

He lit a Marlboro, casually winking at his sexy secretary when she shot him a disapproving glance. While waiting for the requested data, puffing on his cigarette and ignoring the company’s strict anti-smoking rules with his trade mark nonchalance and devil may care attitude.

In nanoseconds his Cray workstation sends the request along the maze commonly known to him as the “Intarnet”, the extent of which only a genius like Jan can fully appreciate. After waiting for the DNS lookup to return an IP address, the machine connected at lightning speed to the required web server, downloading all the relevant information in 128 bit SVGS mode to the 52 inch LED flat panel on his desk. There was a lot of information and after sifting through it in his usual efficient and analytical fashion he, sadly, found no suitable scramblers to buy.

He reached for the telephone and dialed a number without having to look it up. His photographic memory only needed to see a telephone number once to commit it to long term memory, instantaneously available upon request.

 

[Bliknêrs]

Last boring bit coming up next (Hero 2 - bio etc) - then the trip starts!
Meanwhile here's another pic:

 

[Bliknêrs]

Hero 2 - Axel. Not his real name off course. Who would name his child Axel. Pfettt.

Please note: The characters in this RR are fictitious. Anyone resembling them is better off dead.

Far above the hustle and bustle of the large cosmopolitan city of Cape Town, where the plebeians were mugging each other in the streets, another extraordinary character was peering out over the brilliant blue of Table Bay – and wondering what his mom was making for supper.

It was a sunny corporate office with thick pile carpets and large windows. Uninterrupted views over the majestic sights of Table Mountain to the one side and the busy international harbour on the other.

A top of the range iWantOne 7805xi with intuitive technology of embedded Bluetooth, IM, VP functionality and quadband rang once in polyphonic mode, interrupting his thoughts.

Irritated by the intrusion, the phone was picked up by an immaculately manicured hand and raised to an ear with an expensive gold, gypsy style earring in it that drove girrrls wild.

Needless to say, the ear was attached to a head with a fresh crew cut, neatly groomed goatee and piercing blue eyes. The suit was Saville Row and clearly not off the shelf.  

He swivelled in the leather executive chair to put his expensive shoes on the corner of his imported beech wood desk while looking out over the harbour and scratching his arm pit.

“Yes” he barked with a quick glance at his Rolex.

Jan was correct in presuming that Axel would be just as bored as he was. In terse terms he ran the idea past Axel, whom, being suitably blessed with an abundance of grey matter, rarely needed information to make decisions.

Omitting minor details like costs, passports, bikes with papers and other trivial detail such as lights, indicators and mirrors, the idea was passed on in clipped, businesslike phrases. Needless to say, Axel was smitten with the idea as the well thought out plan was presented in Jan’s usual convincing manner.

The two had recently acquired a XL500S, vintage unknown and fairly knackered from Axels brother. Jan rode the bike to work and back and on some dirt roads around Gordons Bay for a while and, with his superior bike riding skills, managed to break it.

It had a terrible noise coming from inside the depths of the engine. It was so bad that he stopped riding it.

Seeing that it was actually Axels bike, it appeared to be a good time to hand it back to him.

But Jan was also the proud owner of a Yamaha TT600 because about a year earlier he also got lucky when Massive Forrest came for a visit, bought a second hand TT600 from Linex Yamaha, thrashed it and left it in his eager, if somewhat misguided, care.

Now, please fast forward back to the present (which is off course 2002, which isn’t actually the present - but it was in 2002).

At this stage it mattered little to our hero’s that both bikes were broken.

Because they had a dream.

Both our heroes were blessed with unparalleled organisational skills, many, many contacts and access to vast resources and they were certain they had what it took to get everything organised with time to spare, so they continued dreaming about the trip. Soon they were sleeping under imaginary stars after a supper of cooked lizards and sun dried grasshoppers washed down with a dram from Axels silver hip flask.

Riding off into the sunset and all that.

Then one morning they checked their digital calendars and saw that it was 3 weeks before they planned to leave. Slightly trembling manicured, tanned and muscular hands reached for telephones, bringing it to ears on immaculately groomed heads.

Numbers were punched.
Brows furrowed.
Views were exchanged.
Panic spread.

They decided they’d better start working on the bikes.

It was a rude awakening because, at that stage neither one of them had yet won the Lotto, much to their surprise. So certain were they of this that they never stopped poring over maps and trawling the Internet for every scrap of information they could get, from GPS way points to places to camp and places to see.

Planning and dreaming was, of-course, infinitely more fun than working on the bikes.

But it had to come up sooner or later. They had to face up to the fact that a trip like that would require the use of a bike. Two preferably, to avoid the constant fights about who sits in front. So off to their respective garages they went and soon established that the XL definitely required a new crank and possibly a new piston and rebore and the TT 600 needed a new casing, piston and rebore.

Both bikes needed a lot of money to get fit, or a miracle of sorts to have them fixed just enough to last the trip. Needless to say, they set out to find these miracles. Off they went in search of a new crank for the XL. Their search taking them to Muizenberg, then to some idiot with a double garage full of XL spares (they saw at least 5 cranks) but who wouldn’t sell them a single thing.

Jan had the TT motor stripped and found that a bearing where the crank goes into the casing was finished. Some said it could be repaired but no-one recommended it. The alternatives were to find another engine or have the casing replaced.

So, with two weeks to spare they found a XT 550 and bought it for the engine that they could use in the TT, the seller threw in a crank for the XL, saving a lot of money. They were happy. The crank was taken to Grabouw Suzuki where the motor was still laying in boxes in anticipation of the “miracle”.

Again phones were raised to ears, buttons were punched, and Grabouw Suzuki was instructed to fix the XL500’s motor. It got a complete overhaul, rebore new piston and rings etc. At first the plan was to have them replace the crank and do the minimum to get the bike running. They called with the quote and it was a LOT OF MONEY. New pistons kit, gasket kit, rebore the full Monty. Grabouw Suzuki, flatly refused to put the old piston back and they didn’t have time to do it themselves.

Two days before they planned to leave Jan borrowed his fathers pick up truck and went to fetch the XL motor and put it in but something was wrong, the kick starter didn’t move! Panicked telephone calls followed. The mechanic saying, bring it back we’ll fix it, I know what’s wrong. Took it back and they fixed it – a washer they installed jammed the kick starter.

Meanwhile Axel had his own problems. The idea was to transfer the barrel and piston from the TT to the XT’s bottom end as the XT has a bad case of piston slap and the TT needed the new casing, which the XT had, giving a useable 600cc motor that should be OK-ish. They were led to believe the parts are interchangeable on the XT/TT but soon found out the barrel didn’t fit into the casing. Axel called Jan and said pick a motor. He picked the XT motor, reasoning that a piston slap is the lesser of the two evils. So it was that the XT motor was transferred to the TT.

As it happened they were now a couple of thousand rand poorer and had 2 bikes that were running. The TT sounded very sick. The piston was slapping bad. It also had no electrical stuff. The day before they left Jan went and bought a 6V battery and put it in, thinking that’s all that was needed to get lights, cameras and action but - nothing happened. Maybe it was because the XT engine was 12V, or visa versa, who knows. But he only figured that out on the way back from their excellent adventure.

The TT was also not registered to anyone in particular, so he found an old number plate in his garage and slapped it on. Then took the licence disk from the XT which was still valid although it didn’t match the plate of the bike. Hoping the cops wouldn’t notice they were put on the bike.

The XL was almost legal, having been registered and road worthied recently. In a moment of compassion for the luckless Jan, Axel decided he’ll also go the illegal route so he fitted the XT’s number plate, saving himself R30 for a new plate and that was it, the bikes were ready and straining at the leash.

Or something approaching that.

 

[Snafu]

sub

 

[Bliknêrs]

Day 1 - Cape Town to Calvinia

Please remember : The characters in this RR are fictitious.
Anyone resembling them is better off dead.

Jan adjusted his bandanna, helmet and goggles and left home at exactly 6 am. He had serious doubts whether they would make the gruelling 2000km trip through some of the worst terrain they could find.

The calculated time to cover the 20 km to the meeting point on the N1 were  around 30 minutes and he estimated he would reach the rendezvous point at around 6:30. The bike was heavily packed but at least it started easily - even though it was awkward getting to the kick-starter with the luggage strapped to the back seat.

Jan putted through Strand, the bike making similar noises, then up the hill towards Stellenbosch and settled down to a steady 80 km/h. The racket from the engine was unbelievable but as Axel promised, it got better after a while - as he got used to it.

He was wearing a T-shirt and a light windbreaker with sunglasses and an open face helmet and was fairly happy apart from the niggling worries about the mechanical condition of the bike.

It wasn’t an easy start for Axel either.  The bike was packed and ready to go but he had not taken into account the 10 minutes it would take to kick-start the damn thing.  After kicking and kicking he had to start stripping off the jackets and helmet again before fainting of exhaustion.  After chasing a giggling girlfriend away with her video camera he finally got the thing fired up and wobbled off up the street wondering why he had been crazy enough to decide to ride what felt like a bucket of water 2000 kilometres. 

Bouncing along, gently swaying from side to side Axel made his way to the meeting point while wondering what would happen if he had to brake for something.  After sport bike brakes this was like having no brakes at all and he had to seriously modify his riding style.  Fortunately his extraordinary riding skills stood him in good stead and he was soon riding like and old hand.

Jan saw his first cop in Stellenbosch but fortunately he was headed in the opposite direction and he barely even glanced at Jan, so it seemed his road camouflage might hold up. The road was boring and when he finally got to the meeting point he was ready for a butt break. It took him longer than he thought but there was no sign of Axel, so he pulled in under some trees and stretched out on the bark and leaves, looking at the bike and wondered if it would ever make it.

He was lost in thought when Axel came limping in. His bike was laden with luggage but sounded sweet, nothing like Jan’s ride-around WWII imitation freak show. Axel looked a lot like the camel man and Jan felt mildly jealous and strangely out of place with his black windbreaker.

Axel looked at the sad sight he found under the trees. Jan in cargo pants and windbreaker and he immediately wanted to go back and fetch the sports bikes and leathers but Jan was determined that nothing would stop them.

They checked over the bikes, synchronised their cell phones, said some prayers and then proceeded to get the bikes started.

Now, this procedure, simple as it is, was the source of much entertainment. Instead of saying: "Let's go", or "Lets, rock and roll" one of them would simply say, "Let the kicking commence". It always brought a tear to the eye.

Sometimes the bikes started at the 10th kick and other times you had to kick them until you were ready to pass out from exhaustion. Anyway Jan was folding double as Axel was kicking away at the kick starter without any success - it was extremely funny seeing the bike bouncing up and down and Axels leg working up and down like a piston but without any effect.

When they finally got the bastards started with an ear splitting racket, they set off down the Klipheuwel road. It's narrow and it's dangerous and the people drive on it like they're being chased by the devil himself. Simply no place for 2 slow off-road bikes. They barely survived and hung a right towards the town of Wellington. Jan was planning to go over Bain’s Kloof but after consultation with Axel, who said the XL's clutch didn't feel to good and they should avoid uphill at all costs until the clutch had “bedded in” or something, they turned left and headed towards Hermon and Ceres.

Long. Boring tarred roads. They couldn't wait to get on the dirt, so when they rode into Ceres and stopped at a Pick and Pay, they checked the bikes over - both were pissing oil - and bought some stuff to eat and drink, then filled up and headed up the (wrong) road. Jan realised this when it was to late to turn around and he hoped there'd be another road leading to the Gydo pass.

'Struse Bob there was, you guessed it, a dirt road, so they set off along that and Jan had to congratulate himself, it looked like he had found the perfect road to introduce Axel, gently, to dirt road riding.

The first brew, outside Ceres
They liked it so much they stopped and had a brew 5 k's down the road. They sat there sipping sweet tea and eating rusks and man it felt good. Jan was beginning to think the bike might get him further than he first thought and was starting to relax and enjoy it. In fact, he was already further that what he expected.

They had some fun on the dirt road, Jan trying to show off how he can lock up the rear wheel and slide to a halt, which was a very cool and death defying trick to Axel. Axel hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to try it himself so simply observed and learned.

They had to stop in Koue Bokkeveld to buy Jan a cup and a plate which he got from the Budget Store at R1-55 for the cup and R2-75 for the plate. Cool stuff - matching set in green, nogal. Now Jan only needed a knife, fork, spoon and some minor odds and ends (like food and all the other stuff he forgot to pack) and he would be ready for the adventure.

Then they got hungry and decided to pull into Op-die-Berg where they found a typical small town café that sold everything from paraffin to knickers. They were after some meat and there was some but it was all frozen solid and would take a day to thaw out. They felt desolate, now what?

Then they walked outside and half heartedly asked someone if there's a butcher in town, he said no and they weren’t surprised, but then he pointed them towards a huge SPAR super market, complete with waving flags etc. How they missed that they had no idea. Anyway, this modern supermarket had everything they could possibly need and right away Axel was in his element, buying things and stocking up on proviant and sh1t. They got some meat to braai - lamb chops and bread rolls and some other stuff they thought they might need like powdered milk, sweet corn, toilet paper etc.

Their spirits were high when they left the store. They weren't that far from civilization after all. It took a while to kick the bikes into action but with that accomplished, they set off to find the dirt road through the Cedarburg mountain range. Not far out of town a sign said Citrusdal so that was obviously their road and about a km further the tar turned to gravel and with hoots of excited enjoyment they hit the dirt. This was what they came for and it was going to be great.

They rode along for quite a while, over mountains and up steep hills etc. The road surface was great and the bikes behaved. It wasn't uncomfortably hot either and before too long they started taking jackets off. On one of the peaks they decided to call it a morning and pulled into a hole where the road builders have removed gravel for the road and Jan started braaing the meat on the gas thing Axel had brought.

The first lunch!

Axel looked a bit uncertain about the procedure but it came out very nice and they quickly dispatched the lot and washed it down with some sweet tea.

While they were sitting there, just off the road, a couple in some fancy 4 x 4 rode right past them without noticing, and they looked at each other and burst out laughing - if that couple was out to see the country, they might miss stuff. Actually to their defence, Jan mentioned the woman was busy with the CD player or aircon…

 

[KTMRICK]

;D ;D

 

[1ougat]

:thumleft: Inspirational

 

[bradleys]

Awesome ,keep it comming :thumleft:

 

[Bliknêrs]

After lunch they started kicking away at the bikes so they could leave, as usual Jan was bent over with laughter as Axel attempted to kick some life into the stubborn XL. It was to be the norm until he got it right, Jan would start giggling like a schoolgirl whenever it was time to saddle up at the prospect of Axel kicking and sweating and swearing and glaring at Jan. Man. life was great.

They rode along the deserted roads then came to the Cedarberg Nature Reserve, which looked like a very nice place to go and camp for a couple of days and easily accessible by car if you don't mind a dirt road or two.

Jan checked the map they had on a roadside billboard and it appeared like they were still a way off from the 4 x 4 track they wanted to take to Wupperthal. The map showed a fork in the road where they should turn off so they set of looking for the fork.

When they found it, it didn't really look like a 4 x 4 trail, it was a good dirt road, so they pulled into a farm and found a lot of people stacking stuff in a ware house. No-one really seemed to care about them and they just looked at them. Jan was desperately looking for someone that looked like he or she could be able to help about his question but they all just kept working with just the occasional glance to see if he was still there.

Then Jan spotted someone on a forklift way at the back of the store, also not really interested in Jan but worth a try as the lot in front was obviously useless. The reasoning was that if the could ride that thing (it had a lot of levers) he could probably speak and that would do nicely. Jan walked over and asked him about the Wupperthal road.

His reply came in a machine gun burst -  the road forks 5 km from his gate, they must go right, then proceed up the trail for 4 km where they get another fork and they have to go left at that one. If they go right they're going up into the wrong mountain but they wouldn't know it until after 28 km when they get to a padlocked gate and have to turn back when they realise it was the wrong road.

When they got to the turn-off, there was a huge sign that said "Road to Wupperthal closed Mondays to Fridays". Well, they'll see about that, they came here to ride that road and if it's closed, it better be closed properly or they'll find a way through. So they took off and then hit a farm yard where they had to open some gates. Axel didn't look certain when it came to the gate - probably felt they were trespassing or something and Jan didn't really like it either but sometimes you just have to say darn it and open that gate and get your ass blown off.

This road was very bad. They could see it could be classified as a 4 x 4 road and it was clear that the going would be hard with the packed bikes. There were deep ruts they had to ride in, then rocky patches with sharp stones, then some soft sand and all the while they were fighting the heat - which was considerable, the dust and of-course the heavily laden bikes.

Jan’s keen eyes soon spotted a fresh track in the road. It appeared to be a knobbly tyre and it was going their way, and Jan must admit he felt that it would be nice if they ran into some other bikers so they kept going and after about an hour they got to a place where there were people working on the road. It was a section that was very steep and there were about 5 or so guys and some heavy machinery that was casting some cement slabs to help the 4 x 4's up and down. That would be why the road was closed, then.

There was someone on a mountain bike that was having his wheel pumped up and Jan’s thoughts of running into another biker disappeared. It was wearing knobbly tyres and Jan felt like an idiot for thinking it's a motorcycle.

Fortunately there was a temporary detour around this obstacle. It went down the side of a steep slope and it was strewn with rocks and deep holes. Axel and Jan pulled up at the start, gulped and looked at each other.

The road builders elbowed each other and moved to better vantage points. Jan decided to brave it first and started making his way down. He had barely moved a meter when he realised he’s going to fall, desperately trying to slow the bike down to a speed where he could jump off and almost managed that when the front wheel slipped and he lost the whole plot. He did manage to jump clear of the bike and ended up on hands and knees with the bike taking a heavy tumble and they could hear the metallic sounds as it hit the rocks and cart wheeled down the hill to come to as rest against a tree.

Well to make a long story short, Jan dented his tea kettle, bent the front brake lever and indicator stem and the mirror wouldn't screw back into the hole when Jan took it out to bend it straight. The mirror was flung into the bushes with disgust. The bike started easily afterwards even though it lost a lot of fuel and oil while laying upside down as Jan was making his painful way towards it to retrieve it. After taking a couple of pictures of Axel making his way down in more conventional style - and not managing to capture any of the terror in his eyes on film, Jan packed his camera away in disgust and they set off again.

They were starting to enjoy the dirt riding. Both would be seen spinning the bikes up and locking the rear wheels and skidding to a halt whenever they stopped. Thus they stopped at a beautiful river crossing so Jan could lick his wounds and they briefly considered camping there for the night.  When it was time to cross the river the bikes didn't drown and that was the first tumble of the trip and their first deep river crossing taken care of. They had survived both and surely now it couldn't get worse they thought. Man, were they wrong.

They had steadily been making their way to the top of the awesome Cedarberg mountain range. Now they were riding on the ridge and it was relatively easy going in a two-wheel track. The view was spectacular from up there. It was also very hot because - as Axel explained - by this time they were a lot closer to the sun than they're used to. Then they came around a bend and there was a 4 X 4 making it's way towards them. They squeezed passed it as the guy brought a mike to his mouth and said something - and as Jan was wondering what that was about, there was another, a girl with her feet on the dashboard and reading a book. And then another. It appeared to be a bit of a procession so they pulled over to let them pass and had to wave to every single one of them, there was around 10. Axel wanted to go back and see how they fare up that hill where Jan bought a farm. When the last car went past the guy shouted "I’m the last one" and he was probably eager to change that as he disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving Axel and Jan spitting dust and swearing at him.

As they started making their way down the other side they came to a farm and then a low water bridge crossing that had a lot of water in it, Jan was riding behind Axel and was hooting with laughter at Axel’s antics through the thick sand when he hit the water and then noticed a bunch of hikers sitting next to the river. A quick turn of the handle bars and some power and then some youth with purple hair got a mouthful of fresh river water as they thundered past. Then, still grinning, they rode smack bang into a little town with snot-nosed kids and frightened chickens all over the dirt road. They were chased by some skinny dogs and stopped to ask whether this might be Wupperthal but it wasn't and they were pointed towards another river crossing, and more of those damn gates.

Then they went up a very steep hill and the road was almost non-existent. It was thick sand winding it's way through big rocks that will put a hole in your sump if the sand got it's way and threw you onto them. While they were wondering how this road could possibly get any worse they had to pull up on a crest and they could see Wupperthal. It was way down in the valley and the road down there was almost straight down. A baboon would need a stick to get down there. It was what they came for and in for a penny in for a pound and all that.

Jan was worried, his tumble still fresh in his mind, as they set off. It was similar going to the hill where Jan had to bail but this was 100 times longer. Admittedly some of the real hairy stretches had cement slabs of about 10 m long over it so that helped a bit at least. It was brake, brake, look for a soft spot to dive into and when you survive, look for the next spot... brake, brake, foot down...

 

[Heimer]

:thumleft: :thumleft:

Nog asseblief