Malcolm
Pack Dog
- Joined
- Dec 10, 2007
- Messages
- 240
- Reaction score
- 5
- Bike
- KTM 950 SE
NOTE: Before reading this just remember not to take life too seriaas!
What did we learn on Saturday?
1. Hand Guards are under rated
2. Air in your tyres is over rated
It took me at least 20 minutes to figure out how to zip all this winter gear that has been sitting in unmolested in my cupboard since I bought my riding jacket some 3 years ago. Once it was on I felt like the dude who had the last “wafer thinnn mint” in the monty python film. You all know how that ended….
So appropriately dressed for the idea of riding in the farking cold I met MacGyver Chris at the designated fuel station. Afrika bite number 1 is: There is no fuel, so back to 4ways Gardens BP to try there. In the midst of housewife driving 4x4’s we managed to get fuel and not get run over. Things were already looking up.
Off past Heron Bridge and a shot Left at Northern Farms see us onto dirt and immediately away from the crudge that builds up within 2 weeks of JHB life. It’s another gold fish moment, I am always amazed at how quick you can escape the suburbs if you live out here in the north. Not far along and Chris turns around to wait for me, and promptly drops his bike. OK that’s number 1. MacGyver has perfected the art of picking up his 200kg bike and without even an appropriate FARK! He is up, and we are off.
Of course we stopped at Harties for the obligatory sandwich, but they are cleaning the sandwich machine so it’s a burger and chips for bfast . Diet 0 Fat Fark 1
At the police station we stop to switch on the GPS. The route is to be a gentle trundle around DW with due consideration of sustenance requirements. So we hit the dirt. Staying initially left of the rail road we are having a blast and soon that DW magic begins to unfold. Man this is cool fun….
FARK that was sore, a million wasps have just dive bombed out the sun like methamphetamined jappo fighter pilots. My fingers are being strafed and there is no enemy in sight. Now my hands, sh1t this sucks! Just as I am about to stop to get sage advice from the guru behind me, I pass by another innocuous thorn bush and again the pain is like giving child birth, (because all women say this is the worst ever) but through your fingers!
Aaah the R5 coin drops, I have no hand guards on this bike and DW thorns are wicked good at inflicting pain on unprotected digits. So now I have weave like a Mexican at a football game, throwing my hands up in the air, not to do the Macereaner, but to avoid another low level branch of the devils thorns. Not to self get some hand guards you twat!
I guess it was Karma since I had told Chris that “we will avoid all the bundu bashing since we don’t want any punctures on these bikes”, well 5km in and we had done about 4,5km of bundu bashing. It turns out that a disused railway bed on google earth looks a lot like a path, but in reality it’s a thorn bushes paradise. Well we find the first river crossing at it has a healthy dressing of that think black mud around the edges guarding the otherwise suspiciously crystal clear water. I tell Chris I am going to turn around and take a run at it. It’s the least I can do after subjecting him to this trial by spikes. Also my bike is a little lighter and I know how to dive over the handle bars and land with a tuck and roll if my bike should do one of those instant stops we all like to watch on u-tube. So I run at it and with only a little bother I am over, Chris flys through with no issue at all. (it’s because I showed him the line hey?). But that small victory is quickly forgotten as we realise we have been dead ended by a marsh. So back to where we came from, only now the river has been disturbed and looks pissed. I am through ok, but its Chris’s turn to struggle. He catches the fall on the far bank, and hits a hand full of throttle. Well that 950 screamed and I got out of the way of what was going to be an epic traction find and then missile launch sequence. But no stress MacGyver catches the bike and elegantly proceeds. We find the correct crossing and eventually we are back on the tar road. I am breathing easier since that should be the last of the bundu bashing….
Around the mine and back into the DW veld. A lekker twisting dual track where you can open up a slide around bends. Well you could ofcourse if you weren’t on my old 650 and riding like a granny, like me. But then we across the football fields and end up crossing the top end of the 3 fences river. Take a short right and then again, and what do you know? There in front is the secret shebeen. I ask Chris if he wants to stop, he displays emphatic agreement by vigorous movement of the helmet.
We are greeted by Petrus – Takalani. In no time we are on top of provided beer crates and a cold Zamalek in hand. The group of guys across the space want to buy Chris’s boots. (He was wearing particularly smart step outs.) I was thinking to myself if this turns into an auction, I can take these guys, them boots are mine! Chris is having none of it, instead we are invited over to join them, another Petrus, John More, Aubrey and some other chap who’s name I forget. They are in high spirits and since Chris drinks at the speed of evaporation I realise there is time for round 2. Ofcourse I am feeling the love and offer a round to our new friends (after they said that they consider themselves all ex ANC voters – Now DA) As soon as the round arrives, I score more friends quicker than you can after posting a promise to release an unauthorised celebrity S E X tape on gesigboek. No worries, this is Afrika, we buy another round, drink up and say our good byes, we have dragons to slay.
Feeling relaxed we head off to the top of the old 3 fences river entrance but we take the DS friendly route, no river beds today. The track lets us ride fast, confidence building, hence the smart ones will know the what’s ahead. The track takes on a more hesitant direction, where it was decisive, now it seems unsure of where it want to go, and then there is the sand. First just a bit of a flirt, then full on, come here baby, I want you down! I have my hands full, so it takes a little while to realise I don’t have the heavy bark of the 950 in my ears. I stop and think. Can I hear anything. Nada, niks, fok oll.
I turn around and head slowly back, I don’t want to try a head on with 200kgs of beast. Around a corner a flash of orange through the trees. Shit he is down and not moving… You have all been through that moment. Uh Oh, what have we done. I get to Chris, he is pinned like a pimp in a police sting. Luckily once I can pick up the bike a bit he gets his leg free and can get up. Any thoughts of Chris having to hack his leg off are quickly dismissed and once we get the beast to fire, we are off down the path once more.
We eventually hit the twisty’s from the wrong direction and soon enough roll into the 3 fences shop. At 1pm there aren’t many folk around save for 2 guys and a gal from PTA. The one dude was on his second DW ride and was in pain and that special place that DW puts you when you are not prepared. The gal looked like she needed more riding and pretty soon they were off. So we sat quietly on the benches, talked to the dogs and enjoyed a quiet respite.
We were now half way through the route for the day and feeling strongs. The route now headed for him, but to the west side of DW. So we head out of the shop, turn left and across the 3 fences river. There is a lekker track heading south and we are having a blast. Until that is I feel a wobble from the front every time I slow a bit…. Arrgh I know what that is, either bearings or flat tyre. Trying to lean over to look at the front had me heading into the bushes at pace, so I decide to stop. Yup flat as the Vrystaat. MacGyver has slime so we fagga some of that, some gas from those aerosol jobbies and off. 5 mins later same story, but I reckon fark it lets just not slow down. We come to a split in the road where I wait for Chris. He stops to let me know his front has now gone on a sympathy strike, so now there are 2 flat fronts. Chris has a new tyre on, so we try the slime and aerosol thing again. Wadda you know? It werks! So ja maybe I should have bought a new tyre some 2,000 kms ago..
The shadows are getting long and we are still away aways from the police station. Chris has lost use of his head light somewhere along the way..So we hit it harder and finally find the tar. Now I have 70km on tar to get home. A quick stop back at the Harties Garage and MacGyver and petrol jockey # 1 get the bead back onto the rim and off we go. So here is where I figure out that if you put you’re a-rse on the point where the rear fender meets the seat, and maintain a steady 100km/h your front wheel doesn’t need air at all.
That is true until you try haul anchors. I have a little shitty euro box car in front trying to overtake a bakkie and trailer uphill where we have a dual lane. Unbeknownst to me and the car in front the bakkie’s lane ends. Bakkie pulls in front of the car and he hammers the anchors, I try to too. Turns out the bike dives to the front, the front weight pushes the soft tyre to one side and then you go careering off into the oncoming traffic. Quickly off the brakes and some gas and the bike can be turned again. So after I get my poepol to let go of the seat cover I am cruising once more…
I turn off and wave Chris good bye. He lets me know by whatsapp he is home before dark. Phew.
What a lekker spot we have to ride.
What did we learn on Saturday?
1. Hand Guards are under rated
2. Air in your tyres is over rated
It took me at least 20 minutes to figure out how to zip all this winter gear that has been sitting in unmolested in my cupboard since I bought my riding jacket some 3 years ago. Once it was on I felt like the dude who had the last “wafer thinnn mint” in the monty python film. You all know how that ended….
So appropriately dressed for the idea of riding in the farking cold I met MacGyver Chris at the designated fuel station. Afrika bite number 1 is: There is no fuel, so back to 4ways Gardens BP to try there. In the midst of housewife driving 4x4’s we managed to get fuel and not get run over. Things were already looking up.
Off past Heron Bridge and a shot Left at Northern Farms see us onto dirt and immediately away from the crudge that builds up within 2 weeks of JHB life. It’s another gold fish moment, I am always amazed at how quick you can escape the suburbs if you live out here in the north. Not far along and Chris turns around to wait for me, and promptly drops his bike. OK that’s number 1. MacGyver has perfected the art of picking up his 200kg bike and without even an appropriate FARK! He is up, and we are off.
Of course we stopped at Harties for the obligatory sandwich, but they are cleaning the sandwich machine so it’s a burger and chips for bfast . Diet 0 Fat Fark 1
At the police station we stop to switch on the GPS. The route is to be a gentle trundle around DW with due consideration of sustenance requirements. So we hit the dirt. Staying initially left of the rail road we are having a blast and soon that DW magic begins to unfold. Man this is cool fun….
FARK that was sore, a million wasps have just dive bombed out the sun like methamphetamined jappo fighter pilots. My fingers are being strafed and there is no enemy in sight. Now my hands, sh1t this sucks! Just as I am about to stop to get sage advice from the guru behind me, I pass by another innocuous thorn bush and again the pain is like giving child birth, (because all women say this is the worst ever) but through your fingers!
Aaah the R5 coin drops, I have no hand guards on this bike and DW thorns are wicked good at inflicting pain on unprotected digits. So now I have weave like a Mexican at a football game, throwing my hands up in the air, not to do the Macereaner, but to avoid another low level branch of the devils thorns. Not to self get some hand guards you twat!
I guess it was Karma since I had told Chris that “we will avoid all the bundu bashing since we don’t want any punctures on these bikes”, well 5km in and we had done about 4,5km of bundu bashing. It turns out that a disused railway bed on google earth looks a lot like a path, but in reality it’s a thorn bushes paradise. Well we find the first river crossing at it has a healthy dressing of that think black mud around the edges guarding the otherwise suspiciously crystal clear water. I tell Chris I am going to turn around and take a run at it. It’s the least I can do after subjecting him to this trial by spikes. Also my bike is a little lighter and I know how to dive over the handle bars and land with a tuck and roll if my bike should do one of those instant stops we all like to watch on u-tube. So I run at it and with only a little bother I am over, Chris flys through with no issue at all. (it’s because I showed him the line hey?). But that small victory is quickly forgotten as we realise we have been dead ended by a marsh. So back to where we came from, only now the river has been disturbed and looks pissed. I am through ok, but its Chris’s turn to struggle. He catches the fall on the far bank, and hits a hand full of throttle. Well that 950 screamed and I got out of the way of what was going to be an epic traction find and then missile launch sequence. But no stress MacGyver catches the bike and elegantly proceeds. We find the correct crossing and eventually we are back on the tar road. I am breathing easier since that should be the last of the bundu bashing….
Around the mine and back into the DW veld. A lekker twisting dual track where you can open up a slide around bends. Well you could ofcourse if you weren’t on my old 650 and riding like a granny, like me. But then we across the football fields and end up crossing the top end of the 3 fences river. Take a short right and then again, and what do you know? There in front is the secret shebeen. I ask Chris if he wants to stop, he displays emphatic agreement by vigorous movement of the helmet.
We are greeted by Petrus – Takalani. In no time we are on top of provided beer crates and a cold Zamalek in hand. The group of guys across the space want to buy Chris’s boots. (He was wearing particularly smart step outs.) I was thinking to myself if this turns into an auction, I can take these guys, them boots are mine! Chris is having none of it, instead we are invited over to join them, another Petrus, John More, Aubrey and some other chap who’s name I forget. They are in high spirits and since Chris drinks at the speed of evaporation I realise there is time for round 2. Ofcourse I am feeling the love and offer a round to our new friends (after they said that they consider themselves all ex ANC voters – Now DA) As soon as the round arrives, I score more friends quicker than you can after posting a promise to release an unauthorised celebrity S E X tape on gesigboek. No worries, this is Afrika, we buy another round, drink up and say our good byes, we have dragons to slay.
Feeling relaxed we head off to the top of the old 3 fences river entrance but we take the DS friendly route, no river beds today. The track lets us ride fast, confidence building, hence the smart ones will know the what’s ahead. The track takes on a more hesitant direction, where it was decisive, now it seems unsure of where it want to go, and then there is the sand. First just a bit of a flirt, then full on, come here baby, I want you down! I have my hands full, so it takes a little while to realise I don’t have the heavy bark of the 950 in my ears. I stop and think. Can I hear anything. Nada, niks, fok oll.
I turn around and head slowly back, I don’t want to try a head on with 200kgs of beast. Around a corner a flash of orange through the trees. Shit he is down and not moving… You have all been through that moment. Uh Oh, what have we done. I get to Chris, he is pinned like a pimp in a police sting. Luckily once I can pick up the bike a bit he gets his leg free and can get up. Any thoughts of Chris having to hack his leg off are quickly dismissed and once we get the beast to fire, we are off down the path once more.
We eventually hit the twisty’s from the wrong direction and soon enough roll into the 3 fences shop. At 1pm there aren’t many folk around save for 2 guys and a gal from PTA. The one dude was on his second DW ride and was in pain and that special place that DW puts you when you are not prepared. The gal looked like she needed more riding and pretty soon they were off. So we sat quietly on the benches, talked to the dogs and enjoyed a quiet respite.
We were now half way through the route for the day and feeling strongs. The route now headed for him, but to the west side of DW. So we head out of the shop, turn left and across the 3 fences river. There is a lekker track heading south and we are having a blast. Until that is I feel a wobble from the front every time I slow a bit…. Arrgh I know what that is, either bearings or flat tyre. Trying to lean over to look at the front had me heading into the bushes at pace, so I decide to stop. Yup flat as the Vrystaat. MacGyver has slime so we fagga some of that, some gas from those aerosol jobbies and off. 5 mins later same story, but I reckon fark it lets just not slow down. We come to a split in the road where I wait for Chris. He stops to let me know his front has now gone on a sympathy strike, so now there are 2 flat fronts. Chris has a new tyre on, so we try the slime and aerosol thing again. Wadda you know? It werks! So ja maybe I should have bought a new tyre some 2,000 kms ago..
The shadows are getting long and we are still away aways from the police station. Chris has lost use of his head light somewhere along the way..So we hit it harder and finally find the tar. Now I have 70km on tar to get home. A quick stop back at the Harties Garage and MacGyver and petrol jockey # 1 get the bead back onto the rim and off we go. So here is where I figure out that if you put you’re a-rse on the point where the rear fender meets the seat, and maintain a steady 100km/h your front wheel doesn’t need air at all.
That is true until you try haul anchors. I have a little shitty euro box car in front trying to overtake a bakkie and trailer uphill where we have a dual lane. Unbeknownst to me and the car in front the bakkie’s lane ends. Bakkie pulls in front of the car and he hammers the anchors, I try to too. Turns out the bike dives to the front, the front weight pushes the soft tyre to one side and then you go careering off into the oncoming traffic. Quickly off the brakes and some gas and the bike can be turned again. So after I get my poepol to let go of the seat cover I am cruising once more…
I turn off and wave Chris good bye. He lets me know by whatsapp he is home before dark. Phew.
What a lekker spot we have to ride.
