Dustdevil
Race Dog
Oops, seems like I cannot delete my mistake ???. This RR will be continued in the RR section.
I lift my leg from the footpeg as the yellow line laying one and a half meters across the middle of the gravel road suddenly became alive and grew a head on one side. The Cape cobra is known to not back of from a fight and is the most deadly snake in the Cape area, killing more people than any other.
The snakes head is rearing up in the attack position as I drove past in front of it missing it with centimetres, The only thing between me and certain death is the 100km an hour speed I am carrying and the relatively large target the motorcycle imposes making it hard for the snake to find the exact position of my leg. This does not stop it from trying though as it strikes the moment I was lined up with the front of its hooded head.
We were still more than 100km away from Ceres somewhere on the desolate R355 from Calvinia.
The weekend is running to a close with the sun casting long shadows as the two of us is gliding over the harsh Karoo landscape riding side by side. At that moment there is a certain sense of camaraderie felt that does not often come into ones life and normally always accompany some hardship and disaster.
Not that the weekend past have been a disaster, in fact the more disaster one can found on the way the more adventurous the journey turns out to be. We ran out of water, got lost, dropped our bikes numerous times in tough terrain, ran out of fuel and were plagued by flat tires, but none of these mishaps could dampen our spirit. We were looking forward to this weekend for far to long.
The start of the weekend found Myself and Michiel at half past three on Friday morning making our way out of the sleeping city while everyone else was still in dreamland and some suffering from the nightmares of unpaid bills and overdrafts.
When I pack my bags this commercial part of my life stays behind in the city, my cell phone is switched of and my mind as well.
Driving through Bianskloof with only the narrow beam of the HID headlamp dancing across cliff and scrub it feels like a video game with a flat two-dimensional frame in front of your face. The reality is that one small mistake and it is game over… for real.
Gydo pass rapidly transfer us from the warm low laying Ceres valley to the crisp chill of the “Koue Bokeveld”. Wisps of fog are being backlit by the glowing light above the horizon as the night enters into daylight.
Sunrise in the Cederberg
We were set to make it in time for the start of the red route on the first day of the CABC and were making good time as a stiff pace was set on the relatively technical section past Eselbank. By the time we entered Wupperthal the pace became perhaps a bit to stiff as I overcooked the turn after crossing the Tra-Tra River. I was faced with a patch of soft sand with a pile of building rubble in the middle, large stones and pieces of concrete ready to deform my rims, as the only thing left to do was to apply power at the last moment, floating the front across only to come back down into soft sand that grabbed the front and bury it deep sending me tumbling coming to a standstill on my shoulders and neck with my ass and legs pointing up in the air. Some locals were grinning at me from the next-door field they were working; they must have seen the whole spectacle unfold in front of them highlighting their day. No harm was done to body or machine so soon we were on our way again.
The turnoff to the “jeugkamp” where the event was held is just over 10km north out of Wupperthal on the left.
Dropping down into the small valley along the winding, sandy road I had to focus not to make another mistake as the sand became quite think at times. All the bike tracks were indicating there’s something happening here this weekend.
From the elevated position of the ridge the campsite looked like an oasis nestled in the valley surrounded by harsh mountain ranges.
After a quick registration we whipped up our tents and lighten our bikes by dropping all the gear and reported promptly and just in time to join the small group going on the red outride of the day. Dan the Man was the red route leader and anyone that has seen that man ride will tell you that you must crazy following him anywhere he is prepared to take that blue 1200GS of his. The day promises to be a lot of fun and excitement with only 35km to cover.
Red route ride to follow...
I lift my leg from the footpeg as the yellow line laying one and a half meters across the middle of the gravel road suddenly became alive and grew a head on one side. The Cape cobra is known to not back of from a fight and is the most deadly snake in the Cape area, killing more people than any other.
The snakes head is rearing up in the attack position as I drove past in front of it missing it with centimetres, The only thing between me and certain death is the 100km an hour speed I am carrying and the relatively large target the motorcycle imposes making it hard for the snake to find the exact position of my leg. This does not stop it from trying though as it strikes the moment I was lined up with the front of its hooded head.
We were still more than 100km away from Ceres somewhere on the desolate R355 from Calvinia.
The weekend is running to a close with the sun casting long shadows as the two of us is gliding over the harsh Karoo landscape riding side by side. At that moment there is a certain sense of camaraderie felt that does not often come into ones life and normally always accompany some hardship and disaster.
Not that the weekend past have been a disaster, in fact the more disaster one can found on the way the more adventurous the journey turns out to be. We ran out of water, got lost, dropped our bikes numerous times in tough terrain, ran out of fuel and were plagued by flat tires, but none of these mishaps could dampen our spirit. We were looking forward to this weekend for far to long.
The start of the weekend found Myself and Michiel at half past three on Friday morning making our way out of the sleeping city while everyone else was still in dreamland and some suffering from the nightmares of unpaid bills and overdrafts.
When I pack my bags this commercial part of my life stays behind in the city, my cell phone is switched of and my mind as well.
Driving through Bianskloof with only the narrow beam of the HID headlamp dancing across cliff and scrub it feels like a video game with a flat two-dimensional frame in front of your face. The reality is that one small mistake and it is game over… for real.
Gydo pass rapidly transfer us from the warm low laying Ceres valley to the crisp chill of the “Koue Bokeveld”. Wisps of fog are being backlit by the glowing light above the horizon as the night enters into daylight.
Sunrise in the Cederberg
We were set to make it in time for the start of the red route on the first day of the CABC and were making good time as a stiff pace was set on the relatively technical section past Eselbank. By the time we entered Wupperthal the pace became perhaps a bit to stiff as I overcooked the turn after crossing the Tra-Tra River. I was faced with a patch of soft sand with a pile of building rubble in the middle, large stones and pieces of concrete ready to deform my rims, as the only thing left to do was to apply power at the last moment, floating the front across only to come back down into soft sand that grabbed the front and bury it deep sending me tumbling coming to a standstill on my shoulders and neck with my ass and legs pointing up in the air. Some locals were grinning at me from the next-door field they were working; they must have seen the whole spectacle unfold in front of them highlighting their day. No harm was done to body or machine so soon we were on our way again.
The turnoff to the “jeugkamp” where the event was held is just over 10km north out of Wupperthal on the left.
Dropping down into the small valley along the winding, sandy road I had to focus not to make another mistake as the sand became quite think at times. All the bike tracks were indicating there’s something happening here this weekend.
From the elevated position of the ridge the campsite looked like an oasis nestled in the valley surrounded by harsh mountain ranges.
After a quick registration we whipped up our tents and lighten our bikes by dropping all the gear and reported promptly and just in time to join the small group going on the red outride of the day. Dan the Man was the red route leader and anyone that has seen that man ride will tell you that you must crazy following him anywhere he is prepared to take that blue 1200GS of his. The day promises to be a lot of fun and excitement with only 35km to cover.
Red route ride to follow...
