DirtyHarry
Race Dog
Where can I buy the book? :thumleft:
Richtersveld 2 buddies on two old bikes - 2002 (or so)
- Thread starter Bliknêrs
- Start date
Bliknêrs
Race Dog
Ek pos die naweek nog, ek belowe.
Bliknêrs
Race Dog
According to their well used map, the stretch of road they planned to ride, and assuming they could find it, was way out of their measly fuel range, so they had to pick up some petrol to refill on the way, and while they’re at it, they decided to get some stuff to eat as it looked like a long days riding.
So they saddled up and rode to the petrol station where Jan filled up his 15 L ADDIS jerry can and lashed it to his luggage. This called for a major re-arrangement of the luggage as the petrol container had to be held upright to allow it to breathe.
He complained bitterly that his bike felt even weirder than usual after that but off course they needed the extra fuel if they were to reach Pofadder.
Axel, being the compassionate being that he is, had his 15L jerry can filled with water – explaining that you shouldn’t drink petrol when stuck with a broken bike in the middle of nowhere.
After the garage they went to the shop, another Spar, and bought some pap and vienna sausages etc. Jan took the opportunity to ask some old timers about the road and they gave him directions.
When they got to the road it was obvious the youngsters in the, er, “coffee shop” never bothered to explore 2 km out of their town because it was a big road and well marked.
They had about 200 km of dirt roads to cover, with the bikes fully laden to get to Pofadder and there was clearly no point in hanging about so they set off, riding uphill/downhill, uphill/downhill for miles and miles.
The road between Calvinia and Pofadder
If they thought the mornings ride was boring this was much, much worse. But they stopped often, had a brew, stretched their legs and admired the scenery.
Half Mens
They knew exactly how far it was and could easily work out how painfully slow their progress was by looking at the XL’s odometer – the TT didn’t have such luxuries. Well, it had one, but it off course it didn’t work. Aparently it needed a cable or something that goes to the front wheel.
They wobbled past some salt pans, which were really an awesome sight, they later wished they’d stopped for a picture of it.
They rode and rode and rode.
Stopping for tea along the way and later for lunch next to a deserted dam and what seemed like the only trees in the world. And promptly got covered in flies that probably haven't seen a human being in their lives, not that the two bikers smelled like humans of-course.
They ate some sweet corn and vienna sausages and stale, butter less bread, then transferred the fuel from the jerry can to the bikes. Axel ran onto reserve just before they stopped and Jan was glad to be rid of the extra weight on the back of the bike. There was almost no shadow under the tree, so they didn't mess around after eating and refueling.
Then it was back on the bikes and ride, ride, ride until they started seeing signs that said Pofadder 50, Pofadder 40, Pofadder 30 etc.
By this stage they rode long stretches standing up to save their backsides. They rode into Pofadder at around 3 o'clock and it was very hot. They put in petrol and then found the off-sales where they bought some beer and strapped it to the bikes.
They still had a 10 km or so tar road to the Pella turn off where they planned to camp. At the turn off they pulled out the cell phones and called their next of kin to let them know they're still around, which later proved to be clever as there were no reception once they left the tar road between Pofadder and Aggenys.
But Pella wasn't far down the gravel road and before too long they found themselves in the middle of a town. Only it wasn't what they expected, they expected a nice little oasis type town on the banks of the Orange river with green lawns, pubs to sip sundowners at and ample camping place, but there was no river in sight and the town didn't look like much with semi-naked kids and skinny dogs running around and creating havoc.
They went down a road and met some locals who said there’s no place to camp and they're probably looking for Klein Pella which is that way and there they went, following a road that soon disappeared as this area was obviously very popular with the local 4 x 4 guys and they clearly didn’t want to follow beaten paths as there were a staggering number of tracks going in every imaginable direction.
Obviously it was time to ask someone the way and they did, one guy pointed them north, another west. They weren't going anywhere and the sun was setting and they were tired, then they decided to see if they can find the river so they took a more northerly heading and as they came around a small hill they saw a neat little shack with a swept yard, neat little fence and kids playing while a woman was doing washing.
It looked surreal but Jan rode over and she pointed them in the right direction to Klein Pella and added "Volg net die telefoonpale" (just follow the telephone poles).
Well, if there ever was good advice that was it as it was easy to see the poles and it made choosing the right tracks a breeze. The poles took them right up to a gate and into Klein Pella - which turned out to be a farm with camping facilities.
Ablusions
Jan gets all creative
Here Jan stepped into some pendorings that almost ruined his trip!
So they saddled up and rode to the petrol station where Jan filled up his 15 L ADDIS jerry can and lashed it to his luggage. This called for a major re-arrangement of the luggage as the petrol container had to be held upright to allow it to breathe.
He complained bitterly that his bike felt even weirder than usual after that but off course they needed the extra fuel if they were to reach Pofadder.
Axel, being the compassionate being that he is, had his 15L jerry can filled with water – explaining that you shouldn’t drink petrol when stuck with a broken bike in the middle of nowhere.
After the garage they went to the shop, another Spar, and bought some pap and vienna sausages etc. Jan took the opportunity to ask some old timers about the road and they gave him directions.
When they got to the road it was obvious the youngsters in the, er, “coffee shop” never bothered to explore 2 km out of their town because it was a big road and well marked.
They had about 200 km of dirt roads to cover, with the bikes fully laden to get to Pofadder and there was clearly no point in hanging about so they set off, riding uphill/downhill, uphill/downhill for miles and miles.
The road between Calvinia and Pofadder
If they thought the mornings ride was boring this was much, much worse. But they stopped often, had a brew, stretched their legs and admired the scenery.
Half Mens
They knew exactly how far it was and could easily work out how painfully slow their progress was by looking at the XL’s odometer – the TT didn’t have such luxuries. Well, it had one, but it off course it didn’t work. Aparently it needed a cable or something that goes to the front wheel.
They wobbled past some salt pans, which were really an awesome sight, they later wished they’d stopped for a picture of it.
They rode and rode and rode.
Stopping for tea along the way and later for lunch next to a deserted dam and what seemed like the only trees in the world. And promptly got covered in flies that probably haven't seen a human being in their lives, not that the two bikers smelled like humans of-course.
They ate some sweet corn and vienna sausages and stale, butter less bread, then transferred the fuel from the jerry can to the bikes. Axel ran onto reserve just before they stopped and Jan was glad to be rid of the extra weight on the back of the bike. There was almost no shadow under the tree, so they didn't mess around after eating and refueling.
Then it was back on the bikes and ride, ride, ride until they started seeing signs that said Pofadder 50, Pofadder 40, Pofadder 30 etc.
By this stage they rode long stretches standing up to save their backsides. They rode into Pofadder at around 3 o'clock and it was very hot. They put in petrol and then found the off-sales where they bought some beer and strapped it to the bikes.
They still had a 10 km or so tar road to the Pella turn off where they planned to camp. At the turn off they pulled out the cell phones and called their next of kin to let them know they're still around, which later proved to be clever as there were no reception once they left the tar road between Pofadder and Aggenys.
But Pella wasn't far down the gravel road and before too long they found themselves in the middle of a town. Only it wasn't what they expected, they expected a nice little oasis type town on the banks of the Orange river with green lawns, pubs to sip sundowners at and ample camping place, but there was no river in sight and the town didn't look like much with semi-naked kids and skinny dogs running around and creating havoc.
They went down a road and met some locals who said there’s no place to camp and they're probably looking for Klein Pella which is that way and there they went, following a road that soon disappeared as this area was obviously very popular with the local 4 x 4 guys and they clearly didn’t want to follow beaten paths as there were a staggering number of tracks going in every imaginable direction.
Obviously it was time to ask someone the way and they did, one guy pointed them north, another west. They weren't going anywhere and the sun was setting and they were tired, then they decided to see if they can find the river so they took a more northerly heading and as they came around a small hill they saw a neat little shack with a swept yard, neat little fence and kids playing while a woman was doing washing.
It looked surreal but Jan rode over and she pointed them in the right direction to Klein Pella and added "Volg net die telefoonpale" (just follow the telephone poles).
Well, if there ever was good advice that was it as it was easy to see the poles and it made choosing the right tracks a breeze. The poles took them right up to a gate and into Klein Pella - which turned out to be a farm with camping facilities.
Ablusions
Jan gets all creative
Here Jan stepped into some pendorings that almost ruined his trip!
GPW
Puppy
And the rest
Stevie
Race Dog
I am thoroughly enjoying reading this........
......... the waiting sucks though!!!
......... the waiting sucks though!!!
Buzzlightyear
Grey Hound
:
:happy1: :smileinbox: :whip2:
:happy1: :smileinbox: :whip2:
Bliknêrs
Race Dog
Sorry for the wait, I will now try to finish this!
They were met by a very friendly woman that made them pay, almost apologetically explaining that it’s for the warm water in the new ablutions, R10 each! Equivalent to just over $1 at the time. She also sold them braai wood, T-bone steaks, mutton chops and sausages before handing them milk for their tea in a ceramic milk jug. Awesome lady. Awesome place and worth a visit. She even told them they're welcome to swim in the pool!
Daai was maan net wat ek vergeet het van die vorige hoofstukkie.
They were met by a very friendly woman that made them pay, almost apologetically explaining that it’s for the warm water in the new ablutions, R10 each! Equivalent to just over $1 at the time. She also sold them braai wood, T-bone steaks, mutton chops and sausages before handing them milk for their tea in a ceramic milk jug. Awesome lady. Awesome place and worth a visit. She even told them they're welcome to swim in the pool!
Daai was maan net wat ek vergeet het van die vorige hoofstukkie.
Bliknêrs
Race Dog
Well, the next morning, rested, clean and relatively unscathed, they poured over maps and made plans and took compass readings and sh1t and all they could come up with was that they needed to get to Vioolsdrift, the border crossing between South Africa and Namibia. They knew from Vioolsdrift they could make their way through the Richtersveld to a place called Eksteenfontein and from there they could re-assess and if necessary, start turning homewards. They were still just off the topographic map Axel got from a cousin and it felt like it would be a major achievement just to appear on the map, so to speak. It would also have the advantage that they could start using the GPS Axel had brought along.
So when morning on day 3 dawned, they started looking for petrol and a shop as they decided to prepare for at least one night in the bushes but possibly as much as 3. So they filled the jerry cans with petrol and water, bought some more food like sardines and bread rolls from the farms shop which was relatively well stocked and then they were ready to go. Jan took the ceramic milk jug back to it’s owner, explaining it’s so he knows it's back safely. Both agreed that they’ve had a wonderful stay there and would look back to that camping spot as one of the nicer ones.
Directions were given to a fork in the road next to a date tree but they both missed it the first time (probably because they were on the second largest date producing farm in the world - the entire area is covered in date trees). They got to see some more of the farm however, which was nice but with their rears being so saddle sore they could have done without it. It also burned some precious fuel.
When they found the 4 x 4 trail it was absolutely atrocious. It was a well ridden track with two deep ruts and a middlemannetjie about a foot high consisting of very red sand. The sand in the ruts and on the middelmannetjie was soft, deep and red and there were hard patches where the bikes would unexpectedly just take off as it found traction, almost leaving the riders on their arses in the sand wondering wtf just happened.
And of-course there were millions of gates and Jan once again had to do his thing. The bikes were heavy and handled the sand very badly. They had to stand on the foot pegs for most of the way to keep the bikes upright and in line.
Just as Jan was beginning to wonder what the hell they were doing there, his spirits lifted as he stopped to open a gate and had the opportunity to witness Axel diving, head first, into the sand and disappear in a cloud of red dust. It was absolutely hilarious watching him get up, spitting sand and trying to get the heavily packed bike upright again and then proceeded to start pumping away at the kick starter. Like a robot. Axel got his bike going and made his way over to where Jan was parked, looking sheepish.
Jan was still giggling when they took off again and straight away his bike developed a mind of it's own and headed for a sand dune, depositing Jan head first into the sand. So then it was Axels turn to laugh his arse off.
And that was pretty much the order of the morning. They'd be on their merry way, thinking happy thoughts when all of a sudden the bike would start heading somewhere where they didn't want to go and the end result was always the same, although the times they managed to fool themselves into thinking they're going to save it varied. They finally got sick and tired of this and stopped for some sweet corn and viennas - calling it brunch. That also marked the end of the 4x4 trail and they got on to a good, if badly corrugated gravel road. Soon they started seeing Toyota signs and they seemed to be pointing into their general direction (the signs were numbered). Before to long it was almost reassuring to see them. The signs were to lead them into peril later in the day as they got so used to them they started following them.
When they got to a T-junction at around 12 o'clock they had to decide whether to head for the better gravel roads or brave the unknown.
Obviously they headed for the unknown almost without thinking. From the GPS they were certain they were close to the Orange River and after about another hours riding they got to a little town. Jan couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the International sign for tourist information outside a grass hut, but there were no one there. They eventually found a woman in a tree (what she was doing in the tree wasn’t certain) who pointed them down a canyon and said the road is good because they graded it on Monday. That made it easy to find the right road and they rode through thick sand, past some houses and eventually ended up riding right next to the mighty Orange River, the border between South Africa and Namibia.
Jan wanted to take a swim in the river - actually he later confessed about having visions of running into the river clothes and all and laying there for an hour or so but Axel’s tales of huge crocodiles discouraged him, so they just took some photos and took off.
Soon afterwards the road swung inland. This was disappointing, as they wanted to follow the river all the way to Vioolsdrift. Immediately they started looking for short cuts. After stopping at two closed cafes (more like derelict buildings with Coke signs outside) they pulled into a couple of houses, can't really call it a town, where some guys were laying in the shade of a tree outside a garage. These guys told them to follow the road as there’s no other way to Vioolsdrift. Then, maybe 5 km's down the gravel road there was a half buried tyre with 4 x 4 written in yellow on it and a Toyota sign. It had to mean something so after a quick roadside chat they decided to follow the 4 x 4 sign. The general direction appeared to go to where they thought Vioolsdrift should be.
Once again the sand was crisscrossed with tracks so they found some fresh tracks and followed those. The thinking was that maybe the 4 x 4 making those fresh tracks was also doing the same as they were doing. After about 10 minutes of riding during which the number of tracks got bewildering, they found a windmill and there was an old caravan parked next to it with a hut made of old hardboard and plastic bags. Some sheep were shitting away next to a cement dam. When they pulled up a woman emerged and confirmed that the road goes to Vioolsdrift and that a 4 x 4 went that way earlier today and hasn't come back yet, which was a good sign as it might indicate the road is not a dead end.
Just so you grasp the stupidity about what they were about to do, allow me to explain some things. These roads aren't roads, but simply tracks made by a couple of vehicles. Their bikes were clapped out and squirting oil. They were tired. With them they had a compass, a GPS, a useless topo map and enough fuel for 200km (from Pella) of which they've already used a good amount. Neither of them had been there before and where they were headed were huge mountains. Following the road the closest town, Steinkopf, was nearby enough so they could make it with their petrol. If they were able to head directly, as the crow flies, to Vioolsdrift their petrol would easily make it, but if they got lost they could run out of fuel and probably die a lonely, agonizing death.
So without further ado they were on their merry way into the unknown, bouncing off trees and peddling sand.
After about 15 km's they had a decision to make and looking back, neither can believe they did what they did. It happened when they came to a crossing of sorts. There was a fence and two cement dams, both empty. Then there was a Toyota sign pointing north-ish and the, by now familiar, half buried tyre with 4 x 4 written on it, pointing in a north westerly direction.
Jan took it upon himself to follow the Toyota signs because he liked Toyotas. Axel looked sceptical but what the hell does he know anyway. So they set off along a dry riverbed. After struggling through the thick river sand for about 10 km's (took them almost an hour) they got to a sign that said "View point" right and "Camping" left. They decided a nice view might be a photo opportunity and followed the “View point” sign. The reasoning was that it might also be a good place to have a break as their behinds were taking a strain and their legs were tired from standing on the foot pegs. To reasch the view point, they had to struggle through maybe another 10 km of thick sand with the bikes mostly doing their own thing and nearly falling onto rocks a couple of times. Jan rode through more than one bush because he soon found out stopping and changing direction is almost impossible - unless you like falling and pushing your bike to get it moving before trying to leap on it. Do-able but it required some dexterity and enthusiasm neither of them had left.
The viewpoint was a major disappointment. The road just sort of stopped and that was that. View away and bugger off. They took some photographs, emptied their bladders and threw some stones down the ravine.
Soon the moment was over and it was time to struggle back the way they came. Jan decided to push on a bit and even more bushes were run over and Axel was fortunate enough to witness a thick sand version of a high side on one sharp corner. When they got back to the sign, it was around 3 o'clock and the sun was beating down on them mercylessly. It was beginning to dawn on them that it was going to be a long, long days riding on what looked like the shortest day on the map.
They had two options at this stage. Call it quits and backtrack to the gravel road and go around the long way, filling up the bikes and getting something decent to eat or push on through the mountains in the hope of finding a way through to Vioolsdrift which seemed close enough as the crow flies. Another discussion and they decided to follow the sign to the campsite, hoping to find a lot of Toyotas with cold beer and big screen TV's.
What followed then was the hardest part of the trip up till then. They went down a huge canyon, following a dry riverbed for about 10 kilometres. It took them almost an hour. They'd struggle through sand where the bike just digs in, then have to swerve to avoid some mean looking rocks – but sometimes the turning manoeuvre was unsuccessful and they’d have to go over whatever it was they didn't want to ride over in the first place. Then they'd have to crawl through boulders and work up a head of steam to be able to make it up a steep sand dune, only to find they shouldn't have gone so fast because there’s almost nothing on the other side - or sometimes a big rock or a sharp corner – on occasion both. Hard, hard work but hey, they were on their way to Vioolsdrift.
So when morning on day 3 dawned, they started looking for petrol and a shop as they decided to prepare for at least one night in the bushes but possibly as much as 3. So they filled the jerry cans with petrol and water, bought some more food like sardines and bread rolls from the farms shop which was relatively well stocked and then they were ready to go. Jan took the ceramic milk jug back to it’s owner, explaining it’s so he knows it's back safely. Both agreed that they’ve had a wonderful stay there and would look back to that camping spot as one of the nicer ones.
Directions were given to a fork in the road next to a date tree but they both missed it the first time (probably because they were on the second largest date producing farm in the world - the entire area is covered in date trees). They got to see some more of the farm however, which was nice but with their rears being so saddle sore they could have done without it. It also burned some precious fuel.
When they found the 4 x 4 trail it was absolutely atrocious. It was a well ridden track with two deep ruts and a middlemannetjie about a foot high consisting of very red sand. The sand in the ruts and on the middelmannetjie was soft, deep and red and there were hard patches where the bikes would unexpectedly just take off as it found traction, almost leaving the riders on their arses in the sand wondering wtf just happened.
And of-course there were millions of gates and Jan once again had to do his thing. The bikes were heavy and handled the sand very badly. They had to stand on the foot pegs for most of the way to keep the bikes upright and in line.
Just as Jan was beginning to wonder what the hell they were doing there, his spirits lifted as he stopped to open a gate and had the opportunity to witness Axel diving, head first, into the sand and disappear in a cloud of red dust. It was absolutely hilarious watching him get up, spitting sand and trying to get the heavily packed bike upright again and then proceeded to start pumping away at the kick starter. Like a robot. Axel got his bike going and made his way over to where Jan was parked, looking sheepish.
Jan was still giggling when they took off again and straight away his bike developed a mind of it's own and headed for a sand dune, depositing Jan head first into the sand. So then it was Axels turn to laugh his arse off.
And that was pretty much the order of the morning. They'd be on their merry way, thinking happy thoughts when all of a sudden the bike would start heading somewhere where they didn't want to go and the end result was always the same, although the times they managed to fool themselves into thinking they're going to save it varied. They finally got sick and tired of this and stopped for some sweet corn and viennas - calling it brunch. That also marked the end of the 4x4 trail and they got on to a good, if badly corrugated gravel road. Soon they started seeing Toyota signs and they seemed to be pointing into their general direction (the signs were numbered). Before to long it was almost reassuring to see them. The signs were to lead them into peril later in the day as they got so used to them they started following them.
When they got to a T-junction at around 12 o'clock they had to decide whether to head for the better gravel roads or brave the unknown.
Obviously they headed for the unknown almost without thinking. From the GPS they were certain they were close to the Orange River and after about another hours riding they got to a little town. Jan couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the International sign for tourist information outside a grass hut, but there were no one there. They eventually found a woman in a tree (what she was doing in the tree wasn’t certain) who pointed them down a canyon and said the road is good because they graded it on Monday. That made it easy to find the right road and they rode through thick sand, past some houses and eventually ended up riding right next to the mighty Orange River, the border between South Africa and Namibia.
Jan wanted to take a swim in the river - actually he later confessed about having visions of running into the river clothes and all and laying there for an hour or so but Axel’s tales of huge crocodiles discouraged him, so they just took some photos and took off.
Soon afterwards the road swung inland. This was disappointing, as they wanted to follow the river all the way to Vioolsdrift. Immediately they started looking for short cuts. After stopping at two closed cafes (more like derelict buildings with Coke signs outside) they pulled into a couple of houses, can't really call it a town, where some guys were laying in the shade of a tree outside a garage. These guys told them to follow the road as there’s no other way to Vioolsdrift. Then, maybe 5 km's down the gravel road there was a half buried tyre with 4 x 4 written in yellow on it and a Toyota sign. It had to mean something so after a quick roadside chat they decided to follow the 4 x 4 sign. The general direction appeared to go to where they thought Vioolsdrift should be.
Once again the sand was crisscrossed with tracks so they found some fresh tracks and followed those. The thinking was that maybe the 4 x 4 making those fresh tracks was also doing the same as they were doing. After about 10 minutes of riding during which the number of tracks got bewildering, they found a windmill and there was an old caravan parked next to it with a hut made of old hardboard and plastic bags. Some sheep were shitting away next to a cement dam. When they pulled up a woman emerged and confirmed that the road goes to Vioolsdrift and that a 4 x 4 went that way earlier today and hasn't come back yet, which was a good sign as it might indicate the road is not a dead end.
Just so you grasp the stupidity about what they were about to do, allow me to explain some things. These roads aren't roads, but simply tracks made by a couple of vehicles. Their bikes were clapped out and squirting oil. They were tired. With them they had a compass, a GPS, a useless topo map and enough fuel for 200km (from Pella) of which they've already used a good amount. Neither of them had been there before and where they were headed were huge mountains. Following the road the closest town, Steinkopf, was nearby enough so they could make it with their petrol. If they were able to head directly, as the crow flies, to Vioolsdrift their petrol would easily make it, but if they got lost they could run out of fuel and probably die a lonely, agonizing death.
So without further ado they were on their merry way into the unknown, bouncing off trees and peddling sand.
After about 15 km's they had a decision to make and looking back, neither can believe they did what they did. It happened when they came to a crossing of sorts. There was a fence and two cement dams, both empty. Then there was a Toyota sign pointing north-ish and the, by now familiar, half buried tyre with 4 x 4 written on it, pointing in a north westerly direction.
Jan took it upon himself to follow the Toyota signs because he liked Toyotas. Axel looked sceptical but what the hell does he know anyway. So they set off along a dry riverbed. After struggling through the thick river sand for about 10 km's (took them almost an hour) they got to a sign that said "View point" right and "Camping" left. They decided a nice view might be a photo opportunity and followed the “View point” sign. The reasoning was that it might also be a good place to have a break as their behinds were taking a strain and their legs were tired from standing on the foot pegs. To reasch the view point, they had to struggle through maybe another 10 km of thick sand with the bikes mostly doing their own thing and nearly falling onto rocks a couple of times. Jan rode through more than one bush because he soon found out stopping and changing direction is almost impossible - unless you like falling and pushing your bike to get it moving before trying to leap on it. Do-able but it required some dexterity and enthusiasm neither of them had left.
The viewpoint was a major disappointment. The road just sort of stopped and that was that. View away and bugger off. They took some photographs, emptied their bladders and threw some stones down the ravine.
Soon the moment was over and it was time to struggle back the way they came. Jan decided to push on a bit and even more bushes were run over and Axel was fortunate enough to witness a thick sand version of a high side on one sharp corner. When they got back to the sign, it was around 3 o'clock and the sun was beating down on them mercylessly. It was beginning to dawn on them that it was going to be a long, long days riding on what looked like the shortest day on the map.
They had two options at this stage. Call it quits and backtrack to the gravel road and go around the long way, filling up the bikes and getting something decent to eat or push on through the mountains in the hope of finding a way through to Vioolsdrift which seemed close enough as the crow flies. Another discussion and they decided to follow the sign to the campsite, hoping to find a lot of Toyotas with cold beer and big screen TV's.
What followed then was the hardest part of the trip up till then. They went down a huge canyon, following a dry riverbed for about 10 kilometres. It took them almost an hour. They'd struggle through sand where the bike just digs in, then have to swerve to avoid some mean looking rocks – but sometimes the turning manoeuvre was unsuccessful and they’d have to go over whatever it was they didn't want to ride over in the first place. Then they'd have to crawl through boulders and work up a head of steam to be able to make it up a steep sand dune, only to find they shouldn't have gone so fast because there’s almost nothing on the other side - or sometimes a big rock or a sharp corner – on occasion both. Hard, hard work but hey, they were on their way to Vioolsdrift.
spoedvark
Grey Hound
True adventurers!
stan1975
Pack Dog
- Joined
- Jan 4, 2013
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- KTM 690 Adventure
With noble steeds
:sip: nice RR
:sip: nice RR
Bliknêrs
Race Dog
Where the fun never sets:
The two idiots try to make it to the ORANGE River so they can follow their intended plan to ride along the Orange River to Vioolsdrift...
They stopped more than once to drink some water.
It was terribly hot in that canyon with no wind and no shade. The bikes ran terribly hot with the thick sand. There were oil squirting out of every imaginable place in the engines, their pant legs were covered in oil and burned their legs. Once they tried to make their way over to some overhanging rocks for shade so the bikes could cool down but they got so stuck in the sand they didn't bother again. The canyon was about 20 to 30 meters deep with steep rock on both sides and must have been an impressive river during the rainy season. Now it was dry sand, dead animals and two near dead bikers. More than once Axel wondered if they would ever make it out of that hell hole of a canyon or would they eventually be washed out to sea as bits of skeleton and petrol tanks.
All the while Jan was thinking, “When is this going to stop, I can't take much more of this”.
Then they got to an open area and all of a sudden the fresh tracks they've been following stopped. Then they turned around, headed down another ravine and came back to try another. The ravine ended in very dense bushes and dry river beds that seemed impassable.
There were no sign of a way through. It was beginning to appear as if the canyon was a dead end - there appeared to be no route along the river as the rockey mountains ended in the river. They could try to make their way through but there was the possibility that they'd just end up in another dead end. It seemed like it was a good time to transfer the last fuel to the bikes and with his bike unpacked Jan went looking for sign.
He found where the 4 x 4 went down another track and went back to go and share the good news that the 4 x 4 was no longer making a track for them as it was now headed back.
Jan found Axel sitting in the meagre shade of a pathetic little thorn tree, next to the remains of a stinking dead cow, munching some viennas and chatting to a tall, skinny shepherd.
Finding the shepherd in that godforsaken part of the country seemed surreal. Apparently he just waltzed out of the bushes and started chatting to Axel. That must have been a sight because Axel can understand Afrikaans but always answers back in English and Jan was convinced the shepherd have never heard English in his life, so there was a combined sigh of relief as he rode up.
The shepherd was very interested in the bikes, apparently he hasn't seen many and he was under the impression that they were very fast (because they were so big). He also seemed flabbergasted that they could carry all their stuff with the bikes and had a good laugh at the bent teapot lashed to the back of Jan’s bike.
Anyway, he had some information they were after. The canyon was in fact a dead end. The 4 x 4 they were following was parked a couple of hundred meters from where they were sitting (apparently he spoke them earlier and they came there to camp). The road they needed was the one where they followed the Toyota signs instead of the half buried tyre, where the two cement dams were.
It meant they had to struggle back through the thick sand for kilometres! And there they were hoping the going would get better. To top it all the GPS couldn't see any satellites down in the steep sided canyon and the shadows were getting long, it must have been between five and six in the evening, leaving them with about 2 hours of daylight, limited fuel and absolutely no enthusiasm. They didn't talk much but set off the way they came, knowing exactly what was waiting and not keen to do it again but eager to get it over with. Axel was silently cursing himself for following Jan.
You'd think he’d learn…
Needless to say the dry river bed was ridden as fast as they could, whenever they fell, they bounced right up, got the bike going and ran next to it until it was unstuck, then leapt on and got as far as they could. When they got to the crossroad at the two cement dams it was starting to get very windy and the shadows were really long. They discussed their predicament like adults (it's called full contact discussions) and realised they don't have enough petrol in the bikes to go all the way back to the dirt road and ride down to Goodhouse and follow that road to the N7 – which is probably what they should have done in the first place but hey, this was an adventure. They also didn't have enough petrol (or daylight) to get lost again. So they decided they'll follow the half buried tyres and hope for the best. If one of the bikes ran out of petrol - which seemed likely as they had no idea what the thick sand did to their fuel consumption but it couldn't have been good - they'll camp and combine the petrol in one bike and see if one of them could make it out the next day. Neither of them really felt like camping on the windy mountaintop so they got going.
The first part of the road was thick sand but they were getting quite used to that so no one fell. Jan felt that if he fell he wouldn't have been able to get on the bike again. At that stage they've been riding since 8 the morning and their asses were sore and legs and arms very tired. Both were thirsty and hungry, and more than a bit worried. There were lots of forks in the road where they had to make “on the move” decisions and they just kept going into the general direction of Vioolsdrift (allowing for mountains etc) as the GPS was working again and they had a fix on the map. On one mountaintop with sand roads there were like 3 different roads running almost parallel to each other but each disappearing down a different canyon. Just as they'd get really worried one of them would spot the 4 x 4 sign, point it out and keep going with renewed strength. Clueless to where they were headed but somehow relieved because the signs must surely lead somewhere.
Then after negotiating a very steep mountain track they got to the top of the mountain and there was a diesel tank with a generator and a well with no water in it. It was very windy on the mountain top and the sun was setting fast, it must have been close to seven o'clock at night. Neither of them really wanted to camp in the howling wind, sand and the dust and the tyres were reassuring so they pushed on. This part of the road was very steep and rocky. Some of the hills they had to climb were very frightening with deep cliffs and rocky surfaces. If you put a wheel wrong here you'd be history.
They rode and rode, then as they came around a bend they started heading down the mountain into a sandy plain. Their hearts sank, more sand and it was a huge plain, it would take them hours to cross it. Then Jan saw something reflect the sun way to the other side of the plain. Then another one. It was car windows. It had to be the N7. They were riding at the time and Axel was in front and riding like he was possessed so Jan didn't know if he also saw it but it certainly took some pressure off. If they ran out of petrol now, at least they would be able to make it to the highway.
The two idiots try to make it to the ORANGE River so they can follow their intended plan to ride along the Orange River to Vioolsdrift...
They stopped more than once to drink some water.
It was terribly hot in that canyon with no wind and no shade. The bikes ran terribly hot with the thick sand. There were oil squirting out of every imaginable place in the engines, their pant legs were covered in oil and burned their legs. Once they tried to make their way over to some overhanging rocks for shade so the bikes could cool down but they got so stuck in the sand they didn't bother again. The canyon was about 20 to 30 meters deep with steep rock on both sides and must have been an impressive river during the rainy season. Now it was dry sand, dead animals and two near dead bikers. More than once Axel wondered if they would ever make it out of that hell hole of a canyon or would they eventually be washed out to sea as bits of skeleton and petrol tanks.
All the while Jan was thinking, “When is this going to stop, I can't take much more of this”.
Then they got to an open area and all of a sudden the fresh tracks they've been following stopped. Then they turned around, headed down another ravine and came back to try another. The ravine ended in very dense bushes and dry river beds that seemed impassable.
There were no sign of a way through. It was beginning to appear as if the canyon was a dead end - there appeared to be no route along the river as the rockey mountains ended in the river. They could try to make their way through but there was the possibility that they'd just end up in another dead end. It seemed like it was a good time to transfer the last fuel to the bikes and with his bike unpacked Jan went looking for sign.
He found where the 4 x 4 went down another track and went back to go and share the good news that the 4 x 4 was no longer making a track for them as it was now headed back.
Jan found Axel sitting in the meagre shade of a pathetic little thorn tree, next to the remains of a stinking dead cow, munching some viennas and chatting to a tall, skinny shepherd.
Finding the shepherd in that godforsaken part of the country seemed surreal. Apparently he just waltzed out of the bushes and started chatting to Axel. That must have been a sight because Axel can understand Afrikaans but always answers back in English and Jan was convinced the shepherd have never heard English in his life, so there was a combined sigh of relief as he rode up.
The shepherd was very interested in the bikes, apparently he hasn't seen many and he was under the impression that they were very fast (because they were so big). He also seemed flabbergasted that they could carry all their stuff with the bikes and had a good laugh at the bent teapot lashed to the back of Jan’s bike.
Anyway, he had some information they were after. The canyon was in fact a dead end. The 4 x 4 they were following was parked a couple of hundred meters from where they were sitting (apparently he spoke them earlier and they came there to camp). The road they needed was the one where they followed the Toyota signs instead of the half buried tyre, where the two cement dams were.
It meant they had to struggle back through the thick sand for kilometres! And there they were hoping the going would get better. To top it all the GPS couldn't see any satellites down in the steep sided canyon and the shadows were getting long, it must have been between five and six in the evening, leaving them with about 2 hours of daylight, limited fuel and absolutely no enthusiasm. They didn't talk much but set off the way they came, knowing exactly what was waiting and not keen to do it again but eager to get it over with. Axel was silently cursing himself for following Jan.
You'd think he’d learn…
Needless to say the dry river bed was ridden as fast as they could, whenever they fell, they bounced right up, got the bike going and ran next to it until it was unstuck, then leapt on and got as far as they could. When they got to the crossroad at the two cement dams it was starting to get very windy and the shadows were really long. They discussed their predicament like adults (it's called full contact discussions) and realised they don't have enough petrol in the bikes to go all the way back to the dirt road and ride down to Goodhouse and follow that road to the N7 – which is probably what they should have done in the first place but hey, this was an adventure. They also didn't have enough petrol (or daylight) to get lost again. So they decided they'll follow the half buried tyres and hope for the best. If one of the bikes ran out of petrol - which seemed likely as they had no idea what the thick sand did to their fuel consumption but it couldn't have been good - they'll camp and combine the petrol in one bike and see if one of them could make it out the next day. Neither of them really felt like camping on the windy mountaintop so they got going.
The first part of the road was thick sand but they were getting quite used to that so no one fell. Jan felt that if he fell he wouldn't have been able to get on the bike again. At that stage they've been riding since 8 the morning and their asses were sore and legs and arms very tired. Both were thirsty and hungry, and more than a bit worried. There were lots of forks in the road where they had to make “on the move” decisions and they just kept going into the general direction of Vioolsdrift (allowing for mountains etc) as the GPS was working again and they had a fix on the map. On one mountaintop with sand roads there were like 3 different roads running almost parallel to each other but each disappearing down a different canyon. Just as they'd get really worried one of them would spot the 4 x 4 sign, point it out and keep going with renewed strength. Clueless to where they were headed but somehow relieved because the signs must surely lead somewhere.
Then after negotiating a very steep mountain track they got to the top of the mountain and there was a diesel tank with a generator and a well with no water in it. It was very windy on the mountain top and the sun was setting fast, it must have been close to seven o'clock at night. Neither of them really wanted to camp in the howling wind, sand and the dust and the tyres were reassuring so they pushed on. This part of the road was very steep and rocky. Some of the hills they had to climb were very frightening with deep cliffs and rocky surfaces. If you put a wheel wrong here you'd be history.
They rode and rode, then as they came around a bend they started heading down the mountain into a sandy plain. Their hearts sank, more sand and it was a huge plain, it would take them hours to cross it. Then Jan saw something reflect the sun way to the other side of the plain. Then another one. It was car windows. It had to be the N7. They were riding at the time and Axel was in front and riding like he was possessed so Jan didn't know if he also saw it but it certainly took some pressure off. If they ran out of petrol now, at least they would be able to make it to the highway.
Piet
Race Dog
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2010
- Messages
- 1,213
- Reaction score
- 3
- Location
- Queensland, Australia
- Bike
- Kawasaki KLR 650
:drif: komaan blikners! Ek dog jy sê jy gaan die storie klaarmaak? Nou laat jy ons so in die lug hang?
:thumleft: Briljante skryfwerk!
:thumleft: Briljante skryfwerk!
Bliknêrs
Race Dog
Ek sukkel met die fotos man, scan kleiner maak, oplaai imageshack toe en dan weer daar soek!
Maar ek gaan nou nog n paar doen!
Maar ek gaan nou nog n paar doen!
Bliknêrs
Race Dog
They got to the N7 as the sun was setting.
They had no lights on the bikes, so they hardly stopped, then headed north to Vioolsdrift and before to long they saw a sign that said Vioolsdrift 30 km. It was a long 30 km but the last part as they went down into the orange river valley was beautiful and the road surface good with a lot of bends.
They came barreling around a bend only to see lights flashing and luminous cones in the road. A roadblock. Surely this couldn't be after all they'd been through. If the police did anything more than a very casual inspection they'd find enough things wrong on the bikes to have to send back to HQ or whatever to go and get more fine books.
As they were pulled over a guy in a Traffic car drove off. The roadblock was mostly manned by soldiers and one tiny little guy came over and spoke to Axel, who was closest. He asked for his license and after one of the females wrote down Axels name and number on a clipboard, (Axel has that effect on women) proceeded to check the bikes license. When he walked around the bike to compare it to the licence plate (they're from different bikes) Axel said casually "They've been in the sand all day, you know" and grinned sheepishly, probably hoping the soldier was aware of the effect sand could have on number plates and licence disks (sand can change legal combinations to illegal ones). This must have caused him to forget the number on the license disk as he pretended to study the license plate, nod his head and walk over to Jan. Jan was next.
Jan nearly ran away. To begin pointing out stuff that was wrong with his bike would take an hour. Lets just say nothing apart from the engine and brakes worked, although most of it were still there if a bit bent and broken. His sleeping bag and camping mattress was tied to the front of the bike, obscuring the broken headlight and the license disk. Jan quickly bent the disk out so he can see it when he asked for his drivers license. Once again his name was written down and he compared the disk to the plate. At least his matched but it was for a XT550 - the donor bike they got for spares.
Then, as Jan held his wrists to be cuffed, he grinned at Jan and waved them off. Jan was so surprised he couldn't get the bike started. They either had bigger fish to fry or they simply felt sorry for them, looking back. Anyway the boys didn't hang around and Jan was grinning from ear to ear for the last couple of kilometres. Later Axel admitted he almost told the soldiers to hurry up as they're tired and it was getting dark and Jan didn't have lights! That might have landed them in jail, as you don't tell soldiers to hurry up.
As they rode into Vioolsdrift it was almost dark. For the third day in a row they barely made it in time. It was also the second day where they rode 10 hours. The first day they rode for 12. they were very tired and Axel wanted a beer but there were none. No pubs either.
They wanted to head down to Piece of Paradise which everyone said was the best place to camp but it was too dark to continue so they found a caravan park right in Vioolsdrift and paid the owner R85 for the privilege of pitching their tent on a lawn and use his ablutions. Jan thinks he felt so guilty ripping them off that he brought them some beer over (one each) after some less than subtle hinting from the thirsty ones.
This day was the best of the trip. It's a pity they didn't take more photographs but taking photographs was less important than survival as they got lost and worried. Another thing that struck Jan was that there were people to ask directions from at almost every point in the journey where things could have gone very wrong. The woman at the neat little hut at Pella (Follow the telephone poles), the woman in the tree (The road was graded Monday), the woman at the wind mill (Yes this road goes to Vioolsdrift) and his personal favourite, the shepherd (This is a dead end, you have to go back to the two dams and head northwest there). To Jan, they were angels and he’s putting them all in his will in case they weren't.
They had no lights on the bikes, so they hardly stopped, then headed north to Vioolsdrift and before to long they saw a sign that said Vioolsdrift 30 km. It was a long 30 km but the last part as they went down into the orange river valley was beautiful and the road surface good with a lot of bends.
They came barreling around a bend only to see lights flashing and luminous cones in the road. A roadblock. Surely this couldn't be after all they'd been through. If the police did anything more than a very casual inspection they'd find enough things wrong on the bikes to have to send back to HQ or whatever to go and get more fine books.
As they were pulled over a guy in a Traffic car drove off. The roadblock was mostly manned by soldiers and one tiny little guy came over and spoke to Axel, who was closest. He asked for his license and after one of the females wrote down Axels name and number on a clipboard, (Axel has that effect on women) proceeded to check the bikes license. When he walked around the bike to compare it to the licence plate (they're from different bikes) Axel said casually "They've been in the sand all day, you know" and grinned sheepishly, probably hoping the soldier was aware of the effect sand could have on number plates and licence disks (sand can change legal combinations to illegal ones). This must have caused him to forget the number on the license disk as he pretended to study the license plate, nod his head and walk over to Jan. Jan was next.
Jan nearly ran away. To begin pointing out stuff that was wrong with his bike would take an hour. Lets just say nothing apart from the engine and brakes worked, although most of it were still there if a bit bent and broken. His sleeping bag and camping mattress was tied to the front of the bike, obscuring the broken headlight and the license disk. Jan quickly bent the disk out so he can see it when he asked for his drivers license. Once again his name was written down and he compared the disk to the plate. At least his matched but it was for a XT550 - the donor bike they got for spares.
Then, as Jan held his wrists to be cuffed, he grinned at Jan and waved them off. Jan was so surprised he couldn't get the bike started. They either had bigger fish to fry or they simply felt sorry for them, looking back. Anyway the boys didn't hang around and Jan was grinning from ear to ear for the last couple of kilometres. Later Axel admitted he almost told the soldiers to hurry up as they're tired and it was getting dark and Jan didn't have lights! That might have landed them in jail, as you don't tell soldiers to hurry up.
As they rode into Vioolsdrift it was almost dark. For the third day in a row they barely made it in time. It was also the second day where they rode 10 hours. The first day they rode for 12. they were very tired and Axel wanted a beer but there were none. No pubs either.
They wanted to head down to Piece of Paradise which everyone said was the best place to camp but it was too dark to continue so they found a caravan park right in Vioolsdrift and paid the owner R85 for the privilege of pitching their tent on a lawn and use his ablutions. Jan thinks he felt so guilty ripping them off that he brought them some beer over (one each) after some less than subtle hinting from the thirsty ones.
This day was the best of the trip. It's a pity they didn't take more photographs but taking photographs was less important than survival as they got lost and worried. Another thing that struck Jan was that there were people to ask directions from at almost every point in the journey where things could have gone very wrong. The woman at the neat little hut at Pella (Follow the telephone poles), the woman in the tree (The road was graded Monday), the woman at the wind mill (Yes this road goes to Vioolsdrift) and his personal favourite, the shepherd (This is a dead end, you have to go back to the two dams and head northwest there). To Jan, they were angels and he’s putting them all in his will in case they weren't.
Bliknêrs
Race Dog
When they woke up, people were launching fishing boats at the slip way next to their tent, making a racket. Jan for one slept like a log and although it was still early, he felt rested, apart from his ass that was very, very tender – Jan had to sleep on his sides. The ablutions were housed in a little hut type thing. The shower looked like something found on a ship, as a matter of fact it looked for all the world like the shower Jan used while on a trip to Mauritius on the “Achilles Lauro” just before it sank. Jan didn’t like the shower arrangements because he walked in on someone having a shower the previous evening so Jan opted for a bath. The bath was in a prefabricated hut with holes in the walls and didn’t offer more in the way of privacy but at least it looked clean. The water was obviously pumped straight from the river as it was brown.
What the campsite lacked in the line of facilities or comforts, the scenery made up for. Jan took a walk into town to explore and enquire about petrol. The river wasn’t very wide and people was fishing and riding boats. You could almost throw a stone into the neighbouring town across the border in Namibia if you felt like causing an international incident. Or start a war or something.
Vioolsdrift is the main border post between South Africa and Namibia. It carries a lot of traffic and Jan could see cars and trucks lined up outside the border post, which is housed in a huge corrugated iron structure. The entire bridge is covered with corrugated iron. Like a hangar or something. Difficult to describe.
They started looking for a shop and found one, but it seemed to be between the two countries. Jan had to take a bridge over a irrigation channel and then found what looked like a motel, complete with small swimming pool and empty beer bottles. The shop was closed so he made his way back towards the bridge, hoping to enquire about petrol. Jan spoke to one of the policemen and he said the only petrol is on the Namibian side of the town. To get to it you needed a passport, and off course a roadworthy, licenced vehicle. they didn’t have any of that. He shrugged and said then they’ll have to try __________ which was ________ km away. Their petrol barely made it to Vioolsdrift the previous night so there was no way they could go there. Jan went to beg with customs to let one of them across (Jan was thinking Axel and his bike would be the best option) but the border police didn’t care for their little problem and shoo-ed Jan away..
Jan walked back to the tent to go and tell Axel they were stuffed. When they discussed it they decided it’s a lot of bull. There’s no way there wouldn’t be fuel about, even if they had to buy from the locals. They broke down the tent and packed their gear. It was about nine o’clock in the morning. Jan wasn’t looking forward to sitting on the bike again even though it welcomed him by starting first kick. Axel, meanwhile was huffing and puffing and cussing and kicking away at the stubborn XL.
They left the campsite to go and find some things they needed for the trip into the unknown Richtersveld. they planned on just riding and working their way over the mountains towards Eksteenfontein and ultimately Port Nolloth from where they will start the homeward leg of the tour. Their bikes were tired, time and money was running out, so soon they’d have to make some decisions.
Axel waited with the packed bikes while Jan went to the café. they couldn’t let them out of their sight for fear of someone stealing something. They were parked in the shade of a container. The area was obviously popular with people having to take a piss and the entire cement slab where they were parked reeked of it. It was the only shade and it was close to the footbridge to the café though.
Jan bought some stuff and when he returned to the bikes Axel was deep in conversation with some local kids. They wanted money. He wanted petrol. They told them there was petrol just down the dirt road at a place called Rooiwalle. They were so glad they gave the kids each R5. They left with their money . They left to go and find Rooiwalle and fuel.
It was a well kept, wide dirt road to Rooiwalle. Lots of farms and houses along the way. The shop at Rooiwalle beat any other shop they’d seen in this part of the world hands down. There were some 4 x 4’s parked and a lot of locals. There were public telephones, cold drinks and whatever you needed. And petrol. they filled the bikes to the brim and also the jerry cans. They were ready for further action.
The road changed soon afterwards. They rode past the campsite called “Piece of Paradise” and could see campers and people enjoying the river. Looked like an awesome place to camp but there was no way they were going to get that far in the dark the previous night. Seemed like they missed out as the camping site in Vioolsdrift was a dump compared to this.
They took a road where the sign said 4 x 4 only, not knowing what to expect. They struggled through some sand and then followed the narrow road. When there wasn’t sand it was covered by stones that looked like iron and, er rock hard. The landscape looked unlike anything Jan have ever seen. Little or no vegetation, lots of rocks, absolutely no water. They were fortunate as it wasn’t that warm yet and the wind cooled them down while they were riding.
After they rode quite a way along this road they found a dry river bed with a tree and parked to have some tea and breakfast. they made them some egg and vienna sausage omelet type thing, and had it with some butter less bread. The whole plot was washed down with sweet tea. Wonderful. Their backsides needed a rest so they entertained themselves with diving around in the soft sand and talking shit.
Soon it was time to push on. The bikes were re-packed and they managed to kick some semblance of life into them. After struggling out of the deep sand in the riverbed, they took the 4 x 4 trail towards the mountains. What followed were spectacular mountain passes. The road was narrow and bad with occasional crossings over dry river beds. This didn’t trouble them too much as they were never very wide rivers. On top of the mountain the view was stunning. They stopped to rest and drink some water, applying liberal doses of sun block.
After the mountain passes the road leveled out. The sand was red and course. Soon a pattern developed, you’ll be riding on a good surface and then all of a sudden get to a patch of deep, soft sand that had them paddling and struggling and sweating and swearing their way through. These patches of sand got bigger and bigger until they’d ride in a patch for what seemed like kilometers. You don’t have much control over the bike through the sand. The sides are steep and the middelmannetjie high. You have to pick your track and try to stay on as the bike tries to climb out of it. Often you’d get to a place where you had to cross the middelmannetjie because something is blocking your progress and the results were always hilarious – a heavily laden bike wobbling to get out of the track, then suddenly climbing out and almost over the new track and up the other side – always took a couple of meters to pull this maneuver off.
The dust was a problem. Axel was riding in front and Jan had to fall back so the dust didn’t get into his eyes too much. It also had the advantage that Axel would think Jan would have enough time to swerve and not ride over him if he falls. Truth be told, swerving was not an option - Jan was thinking that he would have been tempted to ride over him as a human body will provide excellent traction.
Soon Jan’s luggage was working it’s way off to the left hand side of the bike. It was difficult enough riding the heavy bike through the thick sand – now with the luggage hanging on the side it was even more difficult. Jan had to stop and fix it, when he did, Axel disappeared over the horizon – you don’t stop in the thick sand unless you have too.
His earthly possessions were tied up with what Axel termed “abandon”. Jan had at least five pieces of rope, and the same number of bungee cords. He had to work them all loose and re-pack the bike. It took some time and Jan was sweating. He also remembered that he still had to get the bike started and out of the sand again. Jan could see Axel standing on a little hill about a kilo ahead. Jan saw a reflection and decided Axel must be having some of the stuff he carries in his hip flask or trying to take pictures. Of-course mister was watching Jan through his zoom lens and giggling and looking forward to watching Jan limp his way to where he is standing.
So with the stuff tied to the back of the bike again, Jan got it started, kicked it in gear and ran next to it as he gassed it, then jumped on as it got up to a good speed. Everything went well and Jan made the trip up the hill in a record time because the sand stopped at the foot of the hill. Once there Axel could hardly disguise his disappointment at not seeing Jan bite the dust again. They took some pictures, had some water and stood around for a while.
They didn’t really know where they were, but it seemed like the track they were following was not heading deeper into the Richtersveld, that piece of the country where the Orange River makes a dogs leg. They seemed to be headed in a south westerly direction which would bring them to the sea. This was nice and tempting and they decided to follow the 4 x 4 trail and see where they end up. They had more than enough petrol and food if they got lost this time.
The bikes were still going OK but the piston slap in the TT was horrendous. Jan had long since emptied the plastic 2 L bottle of oil he brought along into it’s bowels and it needed more. The bikes were covered with dust and needed the chains adjusted and a good looking over. Every time they stopped they found bits and pieces had already fallen off or were in the process of working themselves loose. Axels XL was going along nicely but was blowing a fair amount of oil from the top of the motor (onto his trousers) and had only one working shock causing it to limp badly over rocks etc. All their stuff was dirty and stinking and the two of them were tired, sun burned and saddle sore.
They started the bikes and gingerly lowered themselves onto the seats, then proceeded to ride the road and the patches of sand that threatened to turn them into crying schoolgirls. The going was slow and difficult and it was around two o’clock when they got to a road of sorts. Not a 4 x 4 trail but a proper road where a car could travel. they hung a right assuming they should keep going that way if they wanted to get to the coast. And Jan later admitted that getting to the sea was fast becoming an obsession.
After about 10 km they got to a T-junction. Right was to Eksteenfontein. they wanted to go to Eksteenfontein as they saw that as the gateway to the Richtersveld. As a matter of fact they were hoping the 4 x 4 trail would go straight there. they looked at each other. Neither of them felt like going back the way they came, and on the map it looked like a fair distance. While they were sitting here feeling sorry for themselves, they noticed a road sign that read “Steinkopf” and pointed back the way they came. they looked at the map and found that Steinkopf is on the N7, the big tarred highway running between RSA and Namibia. they decided to take the road and see if they can find a dirt road that would take them to a more southerly direction, thinking there had to be one.
This road was actually very good by dirt road standards. There were no trees, just smallish plants, the sand was red and it was very hot. Jan had an Energade bottle with water rammed in front of his handlebars and not for the first time was he glad he was wearing his open face helmet as it allowed him to drink on the go. It was also very amusing to spray Axel with water from the bottle when he got close enough. Soon the bottle was empty and the road boring and his ass sore again. They rode and rode. Then stopped and stood around for a while until it got to hot, then lower their tender butts back into the saddles, kick the bikes into life and suffered again. It went uphill, downhill, then some turns. Not once did they see another living soul. Jan can’t even remember seeing animals. Neither did they see a road to their rights that seemed like it might take them south. they were headed almost due east at this stage and weren’t happy about it.
they joined the N7 at ___________ . Jan was so glad he almost forgot that they would be in serious trouble if the cops caught them on the off-roaders. they followed the tar to the Port Nolloth turnoff. Somewhere along the line they decided to head for Klein see. they didn’t really want to go to Port Nolloth as neither of them particularly liked the town. So they rode out towards Port Nolloth, looking for the Klein see road.
When they were about halfway, Jan heard a terrible racket from his bike. Jan stopped and once again Axel was so deep in a coma he disappeared over the horizon. Jan stopped the bike and was a little concerned about the noise. Jan found that the front sprocket cover was hanging on by a single stripped bolt and the chain was running against it. Jan took out the toolkit, found some zip ties and tied that sucker on with it after a search through the millions of bolts and nuts Jan brought in a cardboard box and finding nothing. By this time Axel had returned and seemed pissed off having to ride the same boring piece of tar twice.
On they went. they found the Klein see road but there was a huge sign saying you needed some sort of permit, available from the Municipality. It was Saturday. And they could see the town of Port Nolloth about 5 km’s down the road. From the map they could see their petrol wouldn’t make it to Klein see and back if there was a problem with them not having the permit. they decided to go and tank up in Port Nolloth and find something to eat, then re-asses and decide what they’re going to do.
After filling up they found a take a way place that had tables in a seedy part of town where their dirty asses and clapped out bikes wouldn’t be frowned upon to much. They ordered some beer and settled in. Drank the beer. Ordered more. Ate, got lazy and ended up in the MacDugals Bay caravan park, pitching their tiny little tent next to the holiday makers and their huge caravans and 4 x 4’s and quad bikes. There was cell phone reception so they checked in with their next of kin again. They hung around and went to the beach then it got dark and they bought something to eat. Showered and crashed.
What the campsite lacked in the line of facilities or comforts, the scenery made up for. Jan took a walk into town to explore and enquire about petrol. The river wasn’t very wide and people was fishing and riding boats. You could almost throw a stone into the neighbouring town across the border in Namibia if you felt like causing an international incident. Or start a war or something.
Vioolsdrift is the main border post between South Africa and Namibia. It carries a lot of traffic and Jan could see cars and trucks lined up outside the border post, which is housed in a huge corrugated iron structure. The entire bridge is covered with corrugated iron. Like a hangar or something. Difficult to describe.
They started looking for a shop and found one, but it seemed to be between the two countries. Jan had to take a bridge over a irrigation channel and then found what looked like a motel, complete with small swimming pool and empty beer bottles. The shop was closed so he made his way back towards the bridge, hoping to enquire about petrol. Jan spoke to one of the policemen and he said the only petrol is on the Namibian side of the town. To get to it you needed a passport, and off course a roadworthy, licenced vehicle. they didn’t have any of that. He shrugged and said then they’ll have to try __________ which was ________ km away. Their petrol barely made it to Vioolsdrift the previous night so there was no way they could go there. Jan went to beg with customs to let one of them across (Jan was thinking Axel and his bike would be the best option) but the border police didn’t care for their little problem and shoo-ed Jan away..
Jan walked back to the tent to go and tell Axel they were stuffed. When they discussed it they decided it’s a lot of bull. There’s no way there wouldn’t be fuel about, even if they had to buy from the locals. They broke down the tent and packed their gear. It was about nine o’clock in the morning. Jan wasn’t looking forward to sitting on the bike again even though it welcomed him by starting first kick. Axel, meanwhile was huffing and puffing and cussing and kicking away at the stubborn XL.
They left the campsite to go and find some things they needed for the trip into the unknown Richtersveld. they planned on just riding and working their way over the mountains towards Eksteenfontein and ultimately Port Nolloth from where they will start the homeward leg of the tour. Their bikes were tired, time and money was running out, so soon they’d have to make some decisions.
Axel waited with the packed bikes while Jan went to the café. they couldn’t let them out of their sight for fear of someone stealing something. They were parked in the shade of a container. The area was obviously popular with people having to take a piss and the entire cement slab where they were parked reeked of it. It was the only shade and it was close to the footbridge to the café though.
Jan bought some stuff and when he returned to the bikes Axel was deep in conversation with some local kids. They wanted money. He wanted petrol. They told them there was petrol just down the dirt road at a place called Rooiwalle. They were so glad they gave the kids each R5. They left with their money . They left to go and find Rooiwalle and fuel.
It was a well kept, wide dirt road to Rooiwalle. Lots of farms and houses along the way. The shop at Rooiwalle beat any other shop they’d seen in this part of the world hands down. There were some 4 x 4’s parked and a lot of locals. There were public telephones, cold drinks and whatever you needed. And petrol. they filled the bikes to the brim and also the jerry cans. They were ready for further action.
The road changed soon afterwards. They rode past the campsite called “Piece of Paradise” and could see campers and people enjoying the river. Looked like an awesome place to camp but there was no way they were going to get that far in the dark the previous night. Seemed like they missed out as the camping site in Vioolsdrift was a dump compared to this.
They took a road where the sign said 4 x 4 only, not knowing what to expect. They struggled through some sand and then followed the narrow road. When there wasn’t sand it was covered by stones that looked like iron and, er rock hard. The landscape looked unlike anything Jan have ever seen. Little or no vegetation, lots of rocks, absolutely no water. They were fortunate as it wasn’t that warm yet and the wind cooled them down while they were riding.
After they rode quite a way along this road they found a dry river bed with a tree and parked to have some tea and breakfast. they made them some egg and vienna sausage omelet type thing, and had it with some butter less bread. The whole plot was washed down with sweet tea. Wonderful. Their backsides needed a rest so they entertained themselves with diving around in the soft sand and talking shit.
Soon it was time to push on. The bikes were re-packed and they managed to kick some semblance of life into them. After struggling out of the deep sand in the riverbed, they took the 4 x 4 trail towards the mountains. What followed were spectacular mountain passes. The road was narrow and bad with occasional crossings over dry river beds. This didn’t trouble them too much as they were never very wide rivers. On top of the mountain the view was stunning. They stopped to rest and drink some water, applying liberal doses of sun block.
After the mountain passes the road leveled out. The sand was red and course. Soon a pattern developed, you’ll be riding on a good surface and then all of a sudden get to a patch of deep, soft sand that had them paddling and struggling and sweating and swearing their way through. These patches of sand got bigger and bigger until they’d ride in a patch for what seemed like kilometers. You don’t have much control over the bike through the sand. The sides are steep and the middelmannetjie high. You have to pick your track and try to stay on as the bike tries to climb out of it. Often you’d get to a place where you had to cross the middelmannetjie because something is blocking your progress and the results were always hilarious – a heavily laden bike wobbling to get out of the track, then suddenly climbing out and almost over the new track and up the other side – always took a couple of meters to pull this maneuver off.
The dust was a problem. Axel was riding in front and Jan had to fall back so the dust didn’t get into his eyes too much. It also had the advantage that Axel would think Jan would have enough time to swerve and not ride over him if he falls. Truth be told, swerving was not an option - Jan was thinking that he would have been tempted to ride over him as a human body will provide excellent traction.
Soon Jan’s luggage was working it’s way off to the left hand side of the bike. It was difficult enough riding the heavy bike through the thick sand – now with the luggage hanging on the side it was even more difficult. Jan had to stop and fix it, when he did, Axel disappeared over the horizon – you don’t stop in the thick sand unless you have too.
His earthly possessions were tied up with what Axel termed “abandon”. Jan had at least five pieces of rope, and the same number of bungee cords. He had to work them all loose and re-pack the bike. It took some time and Jan was sweating. He also remembered that he still had to get the bike started and out of the sand again. Jan could see Axel standing on a little hill about a kilo ahead. Jan saw a reflection and decided Axel must be having some of the stuff he carries in his hip flask or trying to take pictures. Of-course mister was watching Jan through his zoom lens and giggling and looking forward to watching Jan limp his way to where he is standing.
So with the stuff tied to the back of the bike again, Jan got it started, kicked it in gear and ran next to it as he gassed it, then jumped on as it got up to a good speed. Everything went well and Jan made the trip up the hill in a record time because the sand stopped at the foot of the hill. Once there Axel could hardly disguise his disappointment at not seeing Jan bite the dust again. They took some pictures, had some water and stood around for a while.
They didn’t really know where they were, but it seemed like the track they were following was not heading deeper into the Richtersveld, that piece of the country where the Orange River makes a dogs leg. They seemed to be headed in a south westerly direction which would bring them to the sea. This was nice and tempting and they decided to follow the 4 x 4 trail and see where they end up. They had more than enough petrol and food if they got lost this time.
The bikes were still going OK but the piston slap in the TT was horrendous. Jan had long since emptied the plastic 2 L bottle of oil he brought along into it’s bowels and it needed more. The bikes were covered with dust and needed the chains adjusted and a good looking over. Every time they stopped they found bits and pieces had already fallen off or were in the process of working themselves loose. Axels XL was going along nicely but was blowing a fair amount of oil from the top of the motor (onto his trousers) and had only one working shock causing it to limp badly over rocks etc. All their stuff was dirty and stinking and the two of them were tired, sun burned and saddle sore.
They started the bikes and gingerly lowered themselves onto the seats, then proceeded to ride the road and the patches of sand that threatened to turn them into crying schoolgirls. The going was slow and difficult and it was around two o’clock when they got to a road of sorts. Not a 4 x 4 trail but a proper road where a car could travel. they hung a right assuming they should keep going that way if they wanted to get to the coast. And Jan later admitted that getting to the sea was fast becoming an obsession.
After about 10 km they got to a T-junction. Right was to Eksteenfontein. they wanted to go to Eksteenfontein as they saw that as the gateway to the Richtersveld. As a matter of fact they were hoping the 4 x 4 trail would go straight there. they looked at each other. Neither of them felt like going back the way they came, and on the map it looked like a fair distance. While they were sitting here feeling sorry for themselves, they noticed a road sign that read “Steinkopf” and pointed back the way they came. they looked at the map and found that Steinkopf is on the N7, the big tarred highway running between RSA and Namibia. they decided to take the road and see if they can find a dirt road that would take them to a more southerly direction, thinking there had to be one.
This road was actually very good by dirt road standards. There were no trees, just smallish plants, the sand was red and it was very hot. Jan had an Energade bottle with water rammed in front of his handlebars and not for the first time was he glad he was wearing his open face helmet as it allowed him to drink on the go. It was also very amusing to spray Axel with water from the bottle when he got close enough. Soon the bottle was empty and the road boring and his ass sore again. They rode and rode. Then stopped and stood around for a while until it got to hot, then lower their tender butts back into the saddles, kick the bikes into life and suffered again. It went uphill, downhill, then some turns. Not once did they see another living soul. Jan can’t even remember seeing animals. Neither did they see a road to their rights that seemed like it might take them south. they were headed almost due east at this stage and weren’t happy about it.
they joined the N7 at ___________ . Jan was so glad he almost forgot that they would be in serious trouble if the cops caught them on the off-roaders. they followed the tar to the Port Nolloth turnoff. Somewhere along the line they decided to head for Klein see. they didn’t really want to go to Port Nolloth as neither of them particularly liked the town. So they rode out towards Port Nolloth, looking for the Klein see road.
When they were about halfway, Jan heard a terrible racket from his bike. Jan stopped and once again Axel was so deep in a coma he disappeared over the horizon. Jan stopped the bike and was a little concerned about the noise. Jan found that the front sprocket cover was hanging on by a single stripped bolt and the chain was running against it. Jan took out the toolkit, found some zip ties and tied that sucker on with it after a search through the millions of bolts and nuts Jan brought in a cardboard box and finding nothing. By this time Axel had returned and seemed pissed off having to ride the same boring piece of tar twice.
On they went. they found the Klein see road but there was a huge sign saying you needed some sort of permit, available from the Municipality. It was Saturday. And they could see the town of Port Nolloth about 5 km’s down the road. From the map they could see their petrol wouldn’t make it to Klein see and back if there was a problem with them not having the permit. they decided to go and tank up in Port Nolloth and find something to eat, then re-asses and decide what they’re going to do.
After filling up they found a take a way place that had tables in a seedy part of town where their dirty asses and clapped out bikes wouldn’t be frowned upon to much. They ordered some beer and settled in. Drank the beer. Ordered more. Ate, got lazy and ended up in the MacDugals Bay caravan park, pitching their tiny little tent next to the holiday makers and their huge caravans and 4 x 4’s and quad bikes. There was cell phone reception so they checked in with their next of kin again. They hung around and went to the beach then it got dark and they bought something to eat. Showered and crashed.
Bliknêrs
Race Dog
Day five dawned. Jan liked where they were. The beach was right next to their tent. There were lots of people doing holiday things and the weather was glorious.
They decided to stay the day, evaluate their position and work on the bikes that by this time needed more work than they could possibly manage in a week.
First came the evaluation. they were tired, the bikes were shot. The number of days they had were running out and so was their money. Jan was starting to feel homesick – especially when he saw the kiddies playing on the beach. Axel received word that his brother was in hospital. they decided to start the homeward leg of the adventure instead of heading further north.
The bikes needed more work than they could get too in a week and they only had the most basic tools with them. they decided they’re going to take the tarred road back so they can get home in 2 days. If they went looking for dirt roads again, and there were many, it would add to the journey. Dirt roads had the advantage that they wouldn’t run into law enforcement types that could cause unpleasantness. Having duly considered all alternatives, they still liked the idea of simply making a beeline home even if it meant that the likelihood of being caught with unlicenced, unroadworthy tackle increased greatly. Not that they didn’t have a healthy respect for the law, they simply decided they’ll take their chances.
Then came the bikes. The TT was stripped down so they could get to the electrics – Jan thought a working headlight might be nice and while they’re at it they could see what else they could get to co-operate. When the tank came off they spotted a regulator that was broken off it’s mounting. Not good. They bypassed it and rigged some wires directly from the 12v charging system. But there were problems. The wiring was a mess and the harness, being a TT600 was 6V but the charging system was 12V because they were running a Xt550 motor in the bike. Too make a long story short, they got the hooter and the brake light working. You had to tell everyone close by to shut-up if you wanted to hear the hooter and hold your hand over the brake light if you wanted to see the brake light. Better than nothing they decided and put the bike together. they also had to tape up some lights and stuff they didn’t have replacement bolts for (original ones disappeared at an alarming rate)
Then it was time to check out the XL. It looked pretty good, considering. Not to many bolts missing but the left shock had no more oil in it and the battery was very weak. Tyres looked fine, though.
Both bikes was given a clean bill of health and they felt quite confident they’ll get them home. As a contingency they saw on a map the town of Bitterfontein is about 300 km from where they were and there was a railway line there. they decided to make that their first goal and reassess there. If necessary they could put the bikes on the train and ride down reading a book. they both liked the idea.
Jan had ridden thumpers on long journeys on tar and wasn’t particularly looking forward to a 1000km trip doing 80 or 90 km an hour. But hey, He’d survived it before and would again – maybe. Axel was blissfully unaware of the discomfort he was about to suffer. So was Jan as it turned out.
They had the bikes packed and the tent broken down at around 10:00am. They limped out of the caravan park after Jan had a long chat with a neighbour who came over to laugh at the bikes. He rode a ZX-10 and off course Jan had to slip in that they both also ride super bikes just so he knows they’re doing it for fun.
The road out of Port Nolloth was the same one they came in on. It is 93 km long, straight and boring. It took them almost 2 hours to get to Steinkopf. There’s one nice pass where they stopped and admired the scenery. The rest of the time they spend in near comatose states wishing they were somewhere else and dodging the cars that kept on passing them from behind. They were running way below the speed limit and all but the most clapped out of jalopies would catch and overtake them in no time at all. As a matter of fact, Jan can’t recall passing a single vehicle on the entire trip.
Steinkopf was a small little town next to the N7. It being a Sunday there were lots of people walking about, mostly dressed up in church clothes. they didn’t stop but immediately turned right to head south on the N7.
The N7 is a narrow 2 lane road without a tarred shoulder most of the way. It was busy and they had to dodge cars and trucks all the way. It was also boring and they started riding faster. they were about 20 km’s down the N7 when disaster struck. Jan felt the TT losing power and but thought maybe he was imagining it. But it was certainly less responsive. Jan slowed down and Axel came past. Jan limped on for about 5 kilos then decided to stop and see if he could find anything wrong.
After an inspection where he couldn’t find anything weird, well, not obviously so. Jan left the motor running just in case and it sounded no different than usual. It was very noisy from the start. Jan let it idle for a while and then just as he was about to continue, Axel came wobbling back, looking pissed off. Jan explained about the loss in power and he looked at Jan with a look that said if it can idle it can ride. Get on you wus.
Well Jan got on and rode it and it seemed better. The better lasted maybe two kilometers then the bike went limp again. He stopped and it died. Jan sat there next to the road wondering what he was going to do now. Axel once again fell asleep and putted away merrily over the horizon. It was a warm day so Jan took his jacket off.
Jan was thinking heat-seize, so he checked the oil. There was plenty, having topped up in Port Nolloth. The engine was very warm – you could smell the oil burning on the outside of the engine. Axel came back and Jan gave him the good news.
They took out the battered map and saw they’re still a long way from Bitterfontein where they hoped to catch a train. What was a contingency plan now became a reality. Jan found himself looking forward to sitting in a soft train seat. So they decided to head for Bitterfontein.
The bike started again after a while, confirming the diagnosis of heat seize and they set off again. It quickly became a ritual – Jan would ride for about 5 kms then have to stop for about 15 minutes, the bike would start and they would be able to ride some more. It happened about 6 times all in all before they got to Bitterfontein. Straight away they headed for the station. There was a hotel with a pub but it was Sunday and the pub was closed.
they parked at the station and Axel stayed with the bikes to watch some drunk local while Jan went to look for something like a timetable or a ticket office. It was quite a big station with train trucks with marble in it standing on the other side. Jan walked to all the buildings but couldn’t find signs of life or anything resembling a timetable. Finally, just as he was about to give up, a sober local came walking across the railway lines. Jan asked him when the next train is and he burst out laughing. “There’s no train here” he said, “haven’t been any for 10 years, can’t you see how rusted the tracks are?” Then he walked away laughing and shaking his head.
When Jan got to the bikes he was just in time to hear Axel yelling at the drunk to piss off before he shoots him. The drunk didn’t get the unsubtle hint and took a swing at Axel, but he picked the wrong guy and subsequently took a nap with his head in someone else’s piss.
Needless to say Axels spirits was high and he took the good news really well. After sitting around in the piss stained ground for a while and feeling sorry for themselves they realised there’s nothing they could do – they had to ride the bike until it gave the ghost completely or they got to where they wanted to be. They did some calculations and realised they could make it halfway to Cape Town before nightfall if nothing breaks so they decided to push on and see how far they got.
The bike ran well for a while then started seizing again. And again and again. Around five o’clock they were in Klawer where they got some stuff to eat and draw some money from the auto bank. they didn’t want to sleep there as it was still to far from home, so they got on the bikes and rode again. Same story, but the towns were somewhat closer to each other, so they found themselves saying, “OK we’ll stop at the next town”, “OK lets see if they can make it to the one after that”. “OK one more” – all the time having to sit around and wait for the TT to cool down so Jan could ride it again.
Around six they limped into Clan William. It was close enough to home for a relaxed ride the next day. Jan had begun to realise the TT wasn’t going to break down all together and they just needed to be patient with it. So they started looking for a place to sleep. First they found a bed and breakfast joint. The owner was sitting on the stoep reading a book. He looked them up and down and said Yeeeeessssss?! when they asked for a room. they were stinking and full of oil and sun tan lotion. Don’t think he relished the idea of them even on his yard let alone between his crispy white sheets. He showed them a nice room but it looked expensive. It was. they made him a counter offer and he laughed them off so they had to leave – thinking there’s got to be a cheaper Bed and breakfast joint in town.
As it turned out there wasn’t. Not even a backpackers. So they ended up at the hotel which was marginally cheaper but included a breakfast. But this owner also looked less than glad of their patronage. When Jan required whether their bikes would be safe outside he pointed to some boats and said those are worth millions (more than their bikes) and the owners leave them outside. Well, that didn’t really answer Jan’s question because losing a boat is one thing but it’s easy to steal a bike and the rich guy with the boat will have an expensive 4 x 4 to get him home. they’ll have to walk.
Jan was about to discuss this with the owner (more full contact discussions I’m afraid) when Axel, looking happy for the first time that day handed over some money and said, they’ll take it. Which was clever as he already knew they had no-where else to go. Maybe Axel was terrified of Jan deciding to hell with Clanwilliam they’ll go to the next town!
The room was nice and clean. they bathed and watched some TV, then looked for cleanish clothes and went down for supper. they’d decided they’re going to treat themselves that night so they went to the pub and drank some beer. Then they went for supper and before too long they were giggling like schoolgirls, drinking beer and wine and gorging themselves on steaks.
It turned out to be a long weekend and the rich people started coming in. Well groomed women and well dressed kids and husbands with snow white jerseys draped over their shoulders. Jan and Axel sat there eyeing this lot who all sat a respectable distance from them.
Axel decided that a brew up with the dented tea kettle on the dining table would finish the day off nicely and keep with the spirit of things. Axel was full of spirits from his hip flask by this stage and didn’t really need any more so Jan had to step in before the owner and Axel got into full contact discussions this time. Axel was adamant that a brew up was what they needed and the tablecloths were a boring white anyway.
Jan showed his class with a bit of wine tasting (Ok beer) and commenting on how subtle it was on the nose as opposed to themselves. He then proceeded to scare the guys in their snow white cardigans by threatening to join them at their table for desserts as he was now an expert after having ridden through one
Supper was soon over and the crisp white sheets were calling. Tomorrow would be another long day.
They decided to stay the day, evaluate their position and work on the bikes that by this time needed more work than they could possibly manage in a week.
First came the evaluation. they were tired, the bikes were shot. The number of days they had were running out and so was their money. Jan was starting to feel homesick – especially when he saw the kiddies playing on the beach. Axel received word that his brother was in hospital. they decided to start the homeward leg of the adventure instead of heading further north.
The bikes needed more work than they could get too in a week and they only had the most basic tools with them. they decided they’re going to take the tarred road back so they can get home in 2 days. If they went looking for dirt roads again, and there were many, it would add to the journey. Dirt roads had the advantage that they wouldn’t run into law enforcement types that could cause unpleasantness. Having duly considered all alternatives, they still liked the idea of simply making a beeline home even if it meant that the likelihood of being caught with unlicenced, unroadworthy tackle increased greatly. Not that they didn’t have a healthy respect for the law, they simply decided they’ll take their chances.
Then came the bikes. The TT was stripped down so they could get to the electrics – Jan thought a working headlight might be nice and while they’re at it they could see what else they could get to co-operate. When the tank came off they spotted a regulator that was broken off it’s mounting. Not good. They bypassed it and rigged some wires directly from the 12v charging system. But there were problems. The wiring was a mess and the harness, being a TT600 was 6V but the charging system was 12V because they were running a Xt550 motor in the bike. Too make a long story short, they got the hooter and the brake light working. You had to tell everyone close by to shut-up if you wanted to hear the hooter and hold your hand over the brake light if you wanted to see the brake light. Better than nothing they decided and put the bike together. they also had to tape up some lights and stuff they didn’t have replacement bolts for (original ones disappeared at an alarming rate)
Then it was time to check out the XL. It looked pretty good, considering. Not to many bolts missing but the left shock had no more oil in it and the battery was very weak. Tyres looked fine, though.
Both bikes was given a clean bill of health and they felt quite confident they’ll get them home. As a contingency they saw on a map the town of Bitterfontein is about 300 km from where they were and there was a railway line there. they decided to make that their first goal and reassess there. If necessary they could put the bikes on the train and ride down reading a book. they both liked the idea.
Jan had ridden thumpers on long journeys on tar and wasn’t particularly looking forward to a 1000km trip doing 80 or 90 km an hour. But hey, He’d survived it before and would again – maybe. Axel was blissfully unaware of the discomfort he was about to suffer. So was Jan as it turned out.
They had the bikes packed and the tent broken down at around 10:00am. They limped out of the caravan park after Jan had a long chat with a neighbour who came over to laugh at the bikes. He rode a ZX-10 and off course Jan had to slip in that they both also ride super bikes just so he knows they’re doing it for fun.
The road out of Port Nolloth was the same one they came in on. It is 93 km long, straight and boring. It took them almost 2 hours to get to Steinkopf. There’s one nice pass where they stopped and admired the scenery. The rest of the time they spend in near comatose states wishing they were somewhere else and dodging the cars that kept on passing them from behind. They were running way below the speed limit and all but the most clapped out of jalopies would catch and overtake them in no time at all. As a matter of fact, Jan can’t recall passing a single vehicle on the entire trip.
Steinkopf was a small little town next to the N7. It being a Sunday there were lots of people walking about, mostly dressed up in church clothes. they didn’t stop but immediately turned right to head south on the N7.
The N7 is a narrow 2 lane road without a tarred shoulder most of the way. It was busy and they had to dodge cars and trucks all the way. It was also boring and they started riding faster. they were about 20 km’s down the N7 when disaster struck. Jan felt the TT losing power and but thought maybe he was imagining it. But it was certainly less responsive. Jan slowed down and Axel came past. Jan limped on for about 5 kilos then decided to stop and see if he could find anything wrong.
After an inspection where he couldn’t find anything weird, well, not obviously so. Jan left the motor running just in case and it sounded no different than usual. It was very noisy from the start. Jan let it idle for a while and then just as he was about to continue, Axel came wobbling back, looking pissed off. Jan explained about the loss in power and he looked at Jan with a look that said if it can idle it can ride. Get on you wus.
Well Jan got on and rode it and it seemed better. The better lasted maybe two kilometers then the bike went limp again. He stopped and it died. Jan sat there next to the road wondering what he was going to do now. Axel once again fell asleep and putted away merrily over the horizon. It was a warm day so Jan took his jacket off.
Jan was thinking heat-seize, so he checked the oil. There was plenty, having topped up in Port Nolloth. The engine was very warm – you could smell the oil burning on the outside of the engine. Axel came back and Jan gave him the good news.
They took out the battered map and saw they’re still a long way from Bitterfontein where they hoped to catch a train. What was a contingency plan now became a reality. Jan found himself looking forward to sitting in a soft train seat. So they decided to head for Bitterfontein.
The bike started again after a while, confirming the diagnosis of heat seize and they set off again. It quickly became a ritual – Jan would ride for about 5 kms then have to stop for about 15 minutes, the bike would start and they would be able to ride some more. It happened about 6 times all in all before they got to Bitterfontein. Straight away they headed for the station. There was a hotel with a pub but it was Sunday and the pub was closed.
they parked at the station and Axel stayed with the bikes to watch some drunk local while Jan went to look for something like a timetable or a ticket office. It was quite a big station with train trucks with marble in it standing on the other side. Jan walked to all the buildings but couldn’t find signs of life or anything resembling a timetable. Finally, just as he was about to give up, a sober local came walking across the railway lines. Jan asked him when the next train is and he burst out laughing. “There’s no train here” he said, “haven’t been any for 10 years, can’t you see how rusted the tracks are?” Then he walked away laughing and shaking his head.
When Jan got to the bikes he was just in time to hear Axel yelling at the drunk to piss off before he shoots him. The drunk didn’t get the unsubtle hint and took a swing at Axel, but he picked the wrong guy and subsequently took a nap with his head in someone else’s piss.
Needless to say Axels spirits was high and he took the good news really well. After sitting around in the piss stained ground for a while and feeling sorry for themselves they realised there’s nothing they could do – they had to ride the bike until it gave the ghost completely or they got to where they wanted to be. They did some calculations and realised they could make it halfway to Cape Town before nightfall if nothing breaks so they decided to push on and see how far they got.
The bike ran well for a while then started seizing again. And again and again. Around five o’clock they were in Klawer where they got some stuff to eat and draw some money from the auto bank. they didn’t want to sleep there as it was still to far from home, so they got on the bikes and rode again. Same story, but the towns were somewhat closer to each other, so they found themselves saying, “OK we’ll stop at the next town”, “OK lets see if they can make it to the one after that”. “OK one more” – all the time having to sit around and wait for the TT to cool down so Jan could ride it again.
Around six they limped into Clan William. It was close enough to home for a relaxed ride the next day. Jan had begun to realise the TT wasn’t going to break down all together and they just needed to be patient with it. So they started looking for a place to sleep. First they found a bed and breakfast joint. The owner was sitting on the stoep reading a book. He looked them up and down and said Yeeeeessssss?! when they asked for a room. they were stinking and full of oil and sun tan lotion. Don’t think he relished the idea of them even on his yard let alone between his crispy white sheets. He showed them a nice room but it looked expensive. It was. they made him a counter offer and he laughed them off so they had to leave – thinking there’s got to be a cheaper Bed and breakfast joint in town.
As it turned out there wasn’t. Not even a backpackers. So they ended up at the hotel which was marginally cheaper but included a breakfast. But this owner also looked less than glad of their patronage. When Jan required whether their bikes would be safe outside he pointed to some boats and said those are worth millions (more than their bikes) and the owners leave them outside. Well, that didn’t really answer Jan’s question because losing a boat is one thing but it’s easy to steal a bike and the rich guy with the boat will have an expensive 4 x 4 to get him home. they’ll have to walk.
Jan was about to discuss this with the owner (more full contact discussions I’m afraid) when Axel, looking happy for the first time that day handed over some money and said, they’ll take it. Which was clever as he already knew they had no-where else to go. Maybe Axel was terrified of Jan deciding to hell with Clanwilliam they’ll go to the next town!
The room was nice and clean. they bathed and watched some TV, then looked for cleanish clothes and went down for supper. they’d decided they’re going to treat themselves that night so they went to the pub and drank some beer. Then they went for supper and before too long they were giggling like schoolgirls, drinking beer and wine and gorging themselves on steaks.
It turned out to be a long weekend and the rich people started coming in. Well groomed women and well dressed kids and husbands with snow white jerseys draped over their shoulders. Jan and Axel sat there eyeing this lot who all sat a respectable distance from them.
Axel decided that a brew up with the dented tea kettle on the dining table would finish the day off nicely and keep with the spirit of things. Axel was full of spirits from his hip flask by this stage and didn’t really need any more so Jan had to step in before the owner and Axel got into full contact discussions this time. Axel was adamant that a brew up was what they needed and the tablecloths were a boring white anyway.
Jan showed his class with a bit of wine tasting (Ok beer) and commenting on how subtle it was on the nose as opposed to themselves. He then proceeded to scare the guys in their snow white cardigans by threatening to join them at their table for desserts as he was now an expert after having ridden through one
Supper was soon over and the crisp white sheets were calling. Tomorrow would be another long day.
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2012
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- 9,381
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- Palm Bay, Florida, USA.
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- Honda XL500S
Thank you for taking me away from the office for a while, and transporting me right into the sand and rocks and adventure :thumleft: :ricky:
Pietcoke
Race Dog
- Joined
- Nov 24, 2008
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- 1,989
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- Location
- Worcester, Western Cape
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- BMW (all models)
Very nice RR..............thanx :thumleft:
