Taking the road less travelled (not travelled at all?) *Video added*
- Thread starter Zanie
- Start date
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2014
- Messages
- 723
- Reaction score
- 176
- Location
- Table View, Cape Town
- Bike
- Honda CRF-250 Rally
Day 3: The vanishing road (part 1)
Google Maps route (planned)
Google Maps route (actual)
Lance and I woke to find that we had acquired a guard dog overnight. Albeit, not a very alert one.
Since we were already “behind schedule,” we cut out the remainder of Prince Alfred’s Pass. Instead, we took a short-cut that ran alongside the Keurbooms River between the R339 and Route 62.
We covered 17km on Route 62 before climbing off on to gravel again.
Ostrich stampede!
A tortoise inspecting one of the bikes
Our route included Kammanassie Pass and Wapadsnek Pass.
We spotted some mountains that reminded me of Golden Gate, with large red cliff-faces. The below picture doesn’t do it justice.
We stopped for lunch at Blue Swallow in De Rust, before heading on to Meiringspoort. It was originally planned that this would form part of a circular loop, bringing us back via Swartberg Pass; the main attraction.
I know Meiringspoort is tar – this is a place where a Smartcar can roam...
…but it is still stunning. I hope never to get into that mind-set, where it’s “just another tar pass, ho-hum.”
From about this point onwards, the remaining plans for our day’s route were well and truly scuttled. A cascade of decisions resulted in an adventure that will be burnt into my memory (and this despite the fact that Lance always jokes that I live in a goldfish bowl, i.e. 2-second memory span).
It was decided that we would include a gravel loop in our route rather than go through Klaarstroom. It would only add an additional 9km to the route, but included 3 passes or poorts: Bloupuntrivier Poort, Kleinvlei Pass and Aapsrivierpoort.
The views were amazing. Actually it was so amazing that I did not notice a right-hand-side bend in the road. Or perhaps it wasn’t sign-posted with one of those “sharp-corner” signs; something that I, still not completely over my fear of corners, use as a key guideline. Even when I entered the curve, it seemed that it would be gentle, but it tightened quickly. I was doing about 70-80km/h; not fast for the pros, but way too fast for me.
My reactions showed me exactly how far I had come since my fateful Die Hel trip last year. Back then, I had fixated on the corner, gone straight, hit the brakes, went down and spent 3 months on crutches for my sins. My whole being screamed against the idea of crutches. I did not touch the brakes, I looked as far ahead as I could and I leaned the bike far beyond what I have ever done on a gravel corner. I was sitting at the time, so there was not much room for the whole “put your weight on the outside foot-peg to stop the bike sliding.” My bike did indeed start sliding out. I jerked it semi-upright to avoid sliding; only to lean over hard in the next split-second, until it started losing traction yet again. I think adrenaline slows everything down massively, because I can remember the bike losing traction twice, but I made it through, with hammering heart.
Ilse was behind me and had thought it seemed that I had taken the corner rather fast. I was glad to hear that both Gerhard and Lance had also been taken by surprise at the same place.
Meanwhile, Lance had discovered what appeared to be a “short-cut” to Swartberg Pass on his Garmin Maps. 13km into our gravel loop, we diverted onto this road.
The going was immediately more interesting.
I was having a ball. This is the reason I got my bike: to go where my poor Atos cannot go.
Lance and I soon reached yet another gate. It was closed by some rusted wire twisted around a chain. When I untwisted the wire, it disintegrated. This should have set the alarm bells ringing. As it was, our alarm bells were ringing for another reason: where were Ilse and Gerhard? They had been behind us just a milli-moment ago. I told Lance to head back so long, while I close the gate.
When I reached the others I saw a scene that made my brain go on holiday: Ilse, lying on the road, looking very peaceful, whilst Gerhard was doing CPR. Lance was faffing around at his bike, trying not to look in my direction. Gerhard said that if there ever was an emergency, he would like me to be “on the team.” I seemed to remain calm. The only question I could think of asking: “Is she breathing?” (stupid question actually). Someone’s answer: “Yes.” Me: “Then why are you doing CPR?” The fact that Ilse had looked so very peaceful, almost smiling, should have been my cue. At that point, the others couldn’t contain themselves and all started laughing. Why laugh when you are about to be murdered? By me? I suppose this was their way of getting back at me when I went AWOL in George.
Needless to say, I was heartily relieved to find out that the only reason Ilse and Gerhard had fallen behind was this…
Ilse’s bike had half a fence wrapped around the rear wheel.
This presented an interesting dilemma. The wire was not of the soft and pliable variety. What we really needed was wire cutters. Between the two guys, we had a suite of tools, but wire cutters were not included in the inventory.
The only solution was to remove of the rear wheel. Easy right? Not if the axle shaft has not seen lubrication in a while and is as dry as the Sahara Desert. No matter how hard you pull, that axle goes no-where. Lance eventually used one of his screw-drivers and a rock to hammer the axle through.
Lesson 04: Pack wire clippers!
Lesson 05: Make sure the axle shaft is lubricated. Tyre shops don’t always do this, as they do not have to remove the damn things out in the sticks.
Lesson 06: Some type of (large enough) clamp that could aid in leverage would have been useful (the ones we had were too small to fit over the axle shaft).
I am not even going to include a lesson that you should take tools along in the first place. Riding without is asking for big trouble (not that Lance and I have not been guilty of this in the past).
We were to spot many more randomly placed booby-traps of rolled wire, or singular hard-to-spot wire pieces, along this particular road. Twice I picked up some wire as well, but they were short pieces and I stopped in time, before everything became irreversibly entangled.
Google Maps route (planned)
Google Maps route (actual)
Lance and I woke to find that we had acquired a guard dog overnight. Albeit, not a very alert one.
Since we were already “behind schedule,” we cut out the remainder of Prince Alfred’s Pass. Instead, we took a short-cut that ran alongside the Keurbooms River between the R339 and Route 62.
We covered 17km on Route 62 before climbing off on to gravel again.
Ostrich stampede!
A tortoise inspecting one of the bikes
Our route included Kammanassie Pass and Wapadsnek Pass.
We spotted some mountains that reminded me of Golden Gate, with large red cliff-faces. The below picture doesn’t do it justice.
We stopped for lunch at Blue Swallow in De Rust, before heading on to Meiringspoort. It was originally planned that this would form part of a circular loop, bringing us back via Swartberg Pass; the main attraction.
I know Meiringspoort is tar – this is a place where a Smartcar can roam...
…but it is still stunning. I hope never to get into that mind-set, where it’s “just another tar pass, ho-hum.”
From about this point onwards, the remaining plans for our day’s route were well and truly scuttled. A cascade of decisions resulted in an adventure that will be burnt into my memory (and this despite the fact that Lance always jokes that I live in a goldfish bowl, i.e. 2-second memory span).
It was decided that we would include a gravel loop in our route rather than go through Klaarstroom. It would only add an additional 9km to the route, but included 3 passes or poorts: Bloupuntrivier Poort, Kleinvlei Pass and Aapsrivierpoort.
The views were amazing. Actually it was so amazing that I did not notice a right-hand-side bend in the road. Or perhaps it wasn’t sign-posted with one of those “sharp-corner” signs; something that I, still not completely over my fear of corners, use as a key guideline. Even when I entered the curve, it seemed that it would be gentle, but it tightened quickly. I was doing about 70-80km/h; not fast for the pros, but way too fast for me.
My reactions showed me exactly how far I had come since my fateful Die Hel trip last year. Back then, I had fixated on the corner, gone straight, hit the brakes, went down and spent 3 months on crutches for my sins. My whole being screamed against the idea of crutches. I did not touch the brakes, I looked as far ahead as I could and I leaned the bike far beyond what I have ever done on a gravel corner. I was sitting at the time, so there was not much room for the whole “put your weight on the outside foot-peg to stop the bike sliding.” My bike did indeed start sliding out. I jerked it semi-upright to avoid sliding; only to lean over hard in the next split-second, until it started losing traction yet again. I think adrenaline slows everything down massively, because I can remember the bike losing traction twice, but I made it through, with hammering heart.
Ilse was behind me and had thought it seemed that I had taken the corner rather fast. I was glad to hear that both Gerhard and Lance had also been taken by surprise at the same place.
Meanwhile, Lance had discovered what appeared to be a “short-cut” to Swartberg Pass on his Garmin Maps. 13km into our gravel loop, we diverted onto this road.
The going was immediately more interesting.
I was having a ball. This is the reason I got my bike: to go where my poor Atos cannot go.
Lance and I soon reached yet another gate. It was closed by some rusted wire twisted around a chain. When I untwisted the wire, it disintegrated. This should have set the alarm bells ringing. As it was, our alarm bells were ringing for another reason: where were Ilse and Gerhard? They had been behind us just a milli-moment ago. I told Lance to head back so long, while I close the gate.
When I reached the others I saw a scene that made my brain go on holiday: Ilse, lying on the road, looking very peaceful, whilst Gerhard was doing CPR. Lance was faffing around at his bike, trying not to look in my direction. Gerhard said that if there ever was an emergency, he would like me to be “on the team.” I seemed to remain calm. The only question I could think of asking: “Is she breathing?” (stupid question actually). Someone’s answer: “Yes.” Me: “Then why are you doing CPR?” The fact that Ilse had looked so very peaceful, almost smiling, should have been my cue. At that point, the others couldn’t contain themselves and all started laughing. Why laugh when you are about to be murdered? By me? I suppose this was their way of getting back at me when I went AWOL in George.
Needless to say, I was heartily relieved to find out that the only reason Ilse and Gerhard had fallen behind was this…
Ilse’s bike had half a fence wrapped around the rear wheel.
This presented an interesting dilemma. The wire was not of the soft and pliable variety. What we really needed was wire cutters. Between the two guys, we had a suite of tools, but wire cutters were not included in the inventory.
The only solution was to remove of the rear wheel. Easy right? Not if the axle shaft has not seen lubrication in a while and is as dry as the Sahara Desert. No matter how hard you pull, that axle goes no-where. Lance eventually used one of his screw-drivers and a rock to hammer the axle through.
Lesson 04: Pack wire clippers!
Lesson 05: Make sure the axle shaft is lubricated. Tyre shops don’t always do this, as they do not have to remove the damn things out in the sticks.
Lesson 06: Some type of (large enough) clamp that could aid in leverage would have been useful (the ones we had were too small to fit over the axle shaft).
I am not even going to include a lesson that you should take tools along in the first place. Riding without is asking for big trouble (not that Lance and I have not been guilty of this in the past).
We were to spot many more randomly placed booby-traps of rolled wire, or singular hard-to-spot wire pieces, along this particular road. Twice I picked up some wire as well, but they were short pieces and I stopped in time, before everything became irreversibly entangled.
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2014
- Messages
- 723
- Reaction score
- 176
- Location
- Table View, Cape Town
- Bike
- Honda CRF-250 Rally
Day 3: The vanishing road (part 2)
After an hour we were on our way again. After the gate that had been held together by the rusted wire, the road got progressively worse.
This hill was incredibly steep, with some rocks and dongas thrown in for good measure. My usual reaction would have been to stop and take stock. Now I just charged ahead, making sure I was looking where I wanted to go.
And then we reached The Donga. By the time the others arrived, I had already crossed. Again: keeping up a bit of speed and looking where I wanted to go helped me a lot. I did not give myself time to get scared of the obstacle. It was a strange experience for me: my fear appeared to have gone on holiday on this road. I was having a blast!
Not so for Ilse. She has fewer off-road km below the belt. She also had another big worry on her mind: she had recently been for two job interviews at the same place (which was a promising sign that they asked her back for a second interview) and they had not got back to her yet with a final decision before we left on this trip. She said she could not afford to hurt herself again and start a new job at a very corporate place on crutches or in a moon boot. Like me, she also has the shadow of a past injury hovering over her. It was back in full force today. My shadow had gone missing for some reason. Maybe because I know (from experience) that my work would be very supportive if I had to end up on crutches again. It has a very non-corporate atmosphere and the people there are like my second family.
The holes on the left are intimidating. You can easily slide into them. If you put your foot in one during a fall/slide, it could turn out nasty.
Me trying to direct Ilse across.
Her back wheel got stuck in a hole, but a quick push saw her on her way.
The same road, looking back
The Donga from a rider’s perspective – rather intimidating
Stressed, but smiling.
I don’t think Ilse believed me that she was doing great – that this obstacle really is difficult; not just for her. That is, until Lance also got a bit stuck. I think that made her feel better!
I noticed throughout the ride that Lance would have difficulties on sections where I was fine, yet he is the better rider. Having a larger, heavily-laden bike (Lance carried the tent, sleeping bags/mats, etc.) is a distinct handicap. Ilse’s bike also had quite a heavy load in comparison to mine.
Guess which line I had taken here? The one on the left, with the dirt step. Told you I don’t choose good lines. At least I made it over, thanks to my good friend, momentum.
Gerhard took Ilse’s bike over this obstacle.
More erosion
The road resembled its namesake less and less the further we went
The next big obstacle after The Donga was The Moat.
Lance decided to try it out, but didn’t get too far…
Teamwork removed Lance’s bike from the quagmire.
I was amazed at how well my boots coped with the muck. They kept all the water and gunge out.
The problem remained: how to get to the other side? You know how some people say that the problem is all in your head? This one was. Gerhard discovered a perfectly passable route that skirted around the water.
It wasn’t long before we hit our next water crossing. When in doubt, stop and walk it to look for the best line. This is me on the way back. On the way out, I trudged through the water to feel what the ground surface felt like. Thankfully this one didn’t have a bottom of thick, soft mud like the previous one.
Gerhard went first. There was a little poll of grass that caught his left foot on the way out of the puddle. He had a sore foot for a while afterwards.
The rest of us followed without incident
It wasn’t just the polls of grass. There were many bushes just waiting to grab your feet. Keep your toes tucked in!
Ilse having a fight with a bush:
Lance decided his bike needed a rest. Here’s the rest of us in mutiny of his order to pick up the bike.
What a fantastic back-drop!
Choose your line: water or mud.
This is a road?
Where is this road going?
Lance got into a fight with various bushes
Be gone foul twig!
Stunning scenery
It seemed that we would only get small breathers before hitting the next obstacle. Lance is usually not too good with compliments, so it felt great hearing some captured inadvertently by his GoPro. Yay! He does think I’m cool!
Ilse in the following puddle. Gooi mielies!
Gerhard crossing uneventfully, as the guys generally do.
The going wasn’t getting any easier
And then, suddenly, one of the strangest sights.
No one seemed to be home. What place is this? Who used (uses?) it? We circled behind it, but the road ended here. Obviously we were meant to take the left-hand-fork just short distance back.
It has the most amazing view
This place runs off “wireless.” If it used to have electricity, it doesn’t anymore.
The road deteriorated fast after the house, if that can be believed.
Look carefully. There are two people in this photo.
Ilse was trapped beneath her bike. She waited for the guys to lift it. Smart move. She tore her Achilles tendon once when she dragged her foot out from underneath a bike.
A quick check that every body part works as it should
“I’m alive!”
Kudos to Ilse for continuing. Gerhard manhandled her bike over the obstacle.
A short while later, Gerhard decided to join Ilse in the “hall of fall.”
“That just doesn’t look natural!”
The road became extremely rocky. I finally got to make full use of my bash-plate, a decorative bauble until today. I am impressed with my bike’s capability. It handled everything really well. So many of these bikes never get to see dirt.
I was still having a ball. What a crazy adventure! The empty bottle on my soft luggage was very useful at a later stage. At this point, Lance and I had run out of water. Thankfully, it was a relatively cool day. There was also an entire lake somewhere back there. Ilse shared some of her water with us.
At this point, it was easier to ride off the road than on.
After an hour we were on our way again. After the gate that had been held together by the rusted wire, the road got progressively worse.
This hill was incredibly steep, with some rocks and dongas thrown in for good measure. My usual reaction would have been to stop and take stock. Now I just charged ahead, making sure I was looking where I wanted to go.
And then we reached The Donga. By the time the others arrived, I had already crossed. Again: keeping up a bit of speed and looking where I wanted to go helped me a lot. I did not give myself time to get scared of the obstacle. It was a strange experience for me: my fear appeared to have gone on holiday on this road. I was having a blast!
Not so for Ilse. She has fewer off-road km below the belt. She also had another big worry on her mind: she had recently been for two job interviews at the same place (which was a promising sign that they asked her back for a second interview) and they had not got back to her yet with a final decision before we left on this trip. She said she could not afford to hurt herself again and start a new job at a very corporate place on crutches or in a moon boot. Like me, she also has the shadow of a past injury hovering over her. It was back in full force today. My shadow had gone missing for some reason. Maybe because I know (from experience) that my work would be very supportive if I had to end up on crutches again. It has a very non-corporate atmosphere and the people there are like my second family.
The holes on the left are intimidating. You can easily slide into them. If you put your foot in one during a fall/slide, it could turn out nasty.
Me trying to direct Ilse across.
Her back wheel got stuck in a hole, but a quick push saw her on her way.
The same road, looking back
The Donga from a rider’s perspective – rather intimidating
Stressed, but smiling.
I don’t think Ilse believed me that she was doing great – that this obstacle really is difficult; not just for her. That is, until Lance also got a bit stuck. I think that made her feel better!
I noticed throughout the ride that Lance would have difficulties on sections where I was fine, yet he is the better rider. Having a larger, heavily-laden bike (Lance carried the tent, sleeping bags/mats, etc.) is a distinct handicap. Ilse’s bike also had quite a heavy load in comparison to mine.
Guess which line I had taken here? The one on the left, with the dirt step. Told you I don’t choose good lines. At least I made it over, thanks to my good friend, momentum.
Gerhard took Ilse’s bike over this obstacle.
More erosion
The road resembled its namesake less and less the further we went
The next big obstacle after The Donga was The Moat.
Lance decided to try it out, but didn’t get too far…
Teamwork removed Lance’s bike from the quagmire.
I was amazed at how well my boots coped with the muck. They kept all the water and gunge out.
The problem remained: how to get to the other side? You know how some people say that the problem is all in your head? This one was. Gerhard discovered a perfectly passable route that skirted around the water.
It wasn’t long before we hit our next water crossing. When in doubt, stop and walk it to look for the best line. This is me on the way back. On the way out, I trudged through the water to feel what the ground surface felt like. Thankfully this one didn’t have a bottom of thick, soft mud like the previous one.
Gerhard went first. There was a little poll of grass that caught his left foot on the way out of the puddle. He had a sore foot for a while afterwards.
The rest of us followed without incident
It wasn’t just the polls of grass. There were many bushes just waiting to grab your feet. Keep your toes tucked in!
Ilse having a fight with a bush:
Lance decided his bike needed a rest. Here’s the rest of us in mutiny of his order to pick up the bike.
What a fantastic back-drop!
Choose your line: water or mud.
This is a road?
Where is this road going?
Lance got into a fight with various bushes
Be gone foul twig!
Stunning scenery
It seemed that we would only get small breathers before hitting the next obstacle. Lance is usually not too good with compliments, so it felt great hearing some captured inadvertently by his GoPro. Yay! He does think I’m cool!
Ilse in the following puddle. Gooi mielies!
Gerhard crossing uneventfully, as the guys generally do.
The going wasn’t getting any easier
And then, suddenly, one of the strangest sights.
No one seemed to be home. What place is this? Who used (uses?) it? We circled behind it, but the road ended here. Obviously we were meant to take the left-hand-fork just short distance back.
It has the most amazing view
This place runs off “wireless.” If it used to have electricity, it doesn’t anymore.
The road deteriorated fast after the house, if that can be believed.
Look carefully. There are two people in this photo.
Ilse was trapped beneath her bike. She waited for the guys to lift it. Smart move. She tore her Achilles tendon once when she dragged her foot out from underneath a bike.
A quick check that every body part works as it should
“I’m alive!”
Kudos to Ilse for continuing. Gerhard manhandled her bike over the obstacle.
A short while later, Gerhard decided to join Ilse in the “hall of fall.”
“That just doesn’t look natural!”
The road became extremely rocky. I finally got to make full use of my bash-plate, a decorative bauble until today. I am impressed with my bike’s capability. It handled everything really well. So many of these bikes never get to see dirt.
I was still having a ball. What a crazy adventure! The empty bottle on my soft luggage was very useful at a later stage. At this point, Lance and I had run out of water. Thankfully, it was a relatively cool day. There was also an entire lake somewhere back there. Ilse shared some of her water with us.
At this point, it was easier to ride off the road than on.
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2014
- Messages
- 723
- Reaction score
- 176
- Location
- Table View, Cape Town
- Bike
- Honda CRF-250 Rally
Day 3: The vanishing road (part 3)
I was out front, but stopped here, because what I saw did not look promising. There was something that resembled a faint track on the other side of a pretty deep river valley. We had been forging ahead all this time, as we did not want to face all the obstacles we had just covered. Strangely, we appeared to be following the opposite of the saying: “Rather than devil you know, than the one you don’t.” We knew plenty of devils behind us, and they weren’t pretty.
But what we were facing now was the un-prettiest thing we had seen to date. The “road” dropped down to a river, where you had the option of burnt reeds interspersed with water channels deep and narrow enough to catch your foot-pegs or a 2-3m deep erosion trench. This was followed on the other side by a steep exit consisting of flat rocks covered by a mini-stream. Unfortunately the guys didn’t get good footage of this section.
Ilse getting a supportive hug.
Sure, it looked scary, but it could probably be done. Gerhard and I were removing reeds and trying to stomp a path through.
At that point the voice of reason piped up, in the form of Lance. Who thought Lance could be reasonable? He stated the facts (always a good place to start): we had taken 3 hours to cover 13km, it was 4:30pm, his GPS was showing another 13km to go, the road was only getting worse and his Garmin was showing that the route took a quite extreme zig-zagging path at a point further along (not a good sign). We were to learn later that it had been 13km to the next way-point only. The entire route was 50km in total and then it would spit you out on the top of Swartberg Pass, close to the Die Hel turn-off entrance, i.e. still very far from civilisation.
There was a very real chance that we may have to camp on the mountain, but our first choice would be to get off it before nightfall. The clouds were gathering and there was rain forecast for that night and the next day. It would only make the route even more difficult, as it had been wet enough today.
The idea of facing all the obstacles a second time made my heart sink into my shoes. Oh well. No other choice! Back over the same puddles.
What Ilse and I hadn’t fully processed was that the road had progressively worsened on our way out. Each obstacle had rated at the same category on the scary scale for us, yet we hadn’t realised that they were actually getting scarier and we were simply “levelling up.” On the way back, the obstacles seemed much, much easier.
This did not mean that there was smooth sailing the whole way. In the picture below, I am getting help in walking my bike out, after it got stuck in the mud.
We were back at the beautiful lake by 5pm.
Fighting bushes again.
What a beautiful road
In fact, the obstacles seemed so easy and we were reaching them so quickly (in comparison to our trip out), that Gerhard mistook The Moat for yet another do-able water-crossing.
Well and truly stuck
I had mentioned the GoPro, but Lance was worried about time. Therefore there is no footage of us dragging the bike out. It took some doing, as it was in deep mud. Gerhard first removed all the luggage. He and Ilse tie down their soft luggage with ropes they used in rock-climbing. All the bits of rope were tied together to form a long line. The guys pushed on either side of the bike, while Ilse and I pulled on the rope. Later, Lance helped us pull, while Gerhard kept the bike upright. He was knackered.
I used my spare, empty Energade water bottle to spray off the worst of the mud from Gerhard’s chain and callipers, using water from The Moat.
Lesson 07: No matter how bad the going gets, remember that they are the most interesting bits of your trip. Later you will regret not having a memento.
Lesson 08: We had to make do with climbing ropes, which we were very lucky to have! Make sure some form of ropes or straps are packed. We did not have a tow rope. This would be a good future investment.
Ilse needed help again at The Donga. She did really well on the remainder of the route.
Long shadows
It was after 6pm by the time the worst of the road was behind us. It had only taken us 1h45min. The fact that we hadn’t had to remove a wheel cut down on time substantially.
I was amazed that I had survived The Epic Road with only one side-stand incident.
We headed for Prince Albert, as this was the nearest place of civilisation at the time. The last stretch saw us riding in the dark.
We were in no mood to camp, especially given the rain forecast. Reception at the Hotel helped us find a place where we could sleep, by phoning around. The town was basically fully booked, as there was a wedding party happening and it was a long weekend. We managed to secure a spot at a place which I do not think actually operates anymore: Saxo-Koeberg. They had not expected anyone. They apologised that the bedding, which they hastily had to install, did not have matching covers, etc. We couldn’t care a hoot for colour-schemes. We were eternally grateful for a bed (and at a very reasonable price).
Two asides to this day:
The route we took actually does exist on Google Maps, although we discovered later that only the Western side is shown on Tracks for Africa.
Ilse got the job!!
I was out front, but stopped here, because what I saw did not look promising. There was something that resembled a faint track on the other side of a pretty deep river valley. We had been forging ahead all this time, as we did not want to face all the obstacles we had just covered. Strangely, we appeared to be following the opposite of the saying: “Rather than devil you know, than the one you don’t.” We knew plenty of devils behind us, and they weren’t pretty.
But what we were facing now was the un-prettiest thing we had seen to date. The “road” dropped down to a river, where you had the option of burnt reeds interspersed with water channels deep and narrow enough to catch your foot-pegs or a 2-3m deep erosion trench. This was followed on the other side by a steep exit consisting of flat rocks covered by a mini-stream. Unfortunately the guys didn’t get good footage of this section.
Ilse getting a supportive hug.
Sure, it looked scary, but it could probably be done. Gerhard and I were removing reeds and trying to stomp a path through.
At that point the voice of reason piped up, in the form of Lance. Who thought Lance could be reasonable? He stated the facts (always a good place to start): we had taken 3 hours to cover 13km, it was 4:30pm, his GPS was showing another 13km to go, the road was only getting worse and his Garmin was showing that the route took a quite extreme zig-zagging path at a point further along (not a good sign). We were to learn later that it had been 13km to the next way-point only. The entire route was 50km in total and then it would spit you out on the top of Swartberg Pass, close to the Die Hel turn-off entrance, i.e. still very far from civilisation.
There was a very real chance that we may have to camp on the mountain, but our first choice would be to get off it before nightfall. The clouds were gathering and there was rain forecast for that night and the next day. It would only make the route even more difficult, as it had been wet enough today.
The idea of facing all the obstacles a second time made my heart sink into my shoes. Oh well. No other choice! Back over the same puddles.
What Ilse and I hadn’t fully processed was that the road had progressively worsened on our way out. Each obstacle had rated at the same category on the scary scale for us, yet we hadn’t realised that they were actually getting scarier and we were simply “levelling up.” On the way back, the obstacles seemed much, much easier.
This did not mean that there was smooth sailing the whole way. In the picture below, I am getting help in walking my bike out, after it got stuck in the mud.
We were back at the beautiful lake by 5pm.
Fighting bushes again.
What a beautiful road
In fact, the obstacles seemed so easy and we were reaching them so quickly (in comparison to our trip out), that Gerhard mistook The Moat for yet another do-able water-crossing.
Well and truly stuck
I had mentioned the GoPro, but Lance was worried about time. Therefore there is no footage of us dragging the bike out. It took some doing, as it was in deep mud. Gerhard first removed all the luggage. He and Ilse tie down their soft luggage with ropes they used in rock-climbing. All the bits of rope were tied together to form a long line. The guys pushed on either side of the bike, while Ilse and I pulled on the rope. Later, Lance helped us pull, while Gerhard kept the bike upright. He was knackered.
I used my spare, empty Energade water bottle to spray off the worst of the mud from Gerhard’s chain and callipers, using water from The Moat.
Lesson 07: No matter how bad the going gets, remember that they are the most interesting bits of your trip. Later you will regret not having a memento.
Lesson 08: We had to make do with climbing ropes, which we were very lucky to have! Make sure some form of ropes or straps are packed. We did not have a tow rope. This would be a good future investment.
Ilse needed help again at The Donga. She did really well on the remainder of the route.
Long shadows
It was after 6pm by the time the worst of the road was behind us. It had only taken us 1h45min. The fact that we hadn’t had to remove a wheel cut down on time substantially.
I was amazed that I had survived The Epic Road with only one side-stand incident.
We headed for Prince Albert, as this was the nearest place of civilisation at the time. The last stretch saw us riding in the dark.
We were in no mood to camp, especially given the rain forecast. Reception at the Hotel helped us find a place where we could sleep, by phoning around. The town was basically fully booked, as there was a wedding party happening and it was a long weekend. We managed to secure a spot at a place which I do not think actually operates anymore: Saxo-Koeberg. They had not expected anyone. They apologised that the bedding, which they hastily had to install, did not have matching covers, etc. We couldn’t care a hoot for colour-schemes. We were eternally grateful for a bed (and at a very reasonable price).
Two asides to this day:
The route we took actually does exist on Google Maps, although we discovered later that only the Western side is shown on Tracks for Africa.
Ilse got the job!!
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2014
- Messages
- 723
- Reaction score
- 176
- Location
- Table View, Cape Town
- Bike
- Honda CRF-250 Rally
Lance created a video of the crazy road we did on day 3:
[flash=800,450]https://www.youtube.com/v/v1NqgJuU520[/flash]
[flash=800,450]https://www.youtube.com/v/v1NqgJuU520[/flash]
adv
Grey Hound
- Joined
- May 23, 2011
- Messages
- 6,770
- Reaction score
- 35
- Location
- Riebeek west
- Bike
- Triumph 900 Scrambler
Awesome report! Dis hoe dit gedoen moet word.
Wil jy nie daai roete share nie?
Wil jy nie daai roete share nie?
Sjoe, lekker een die :thumleft:
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2014
- Messages
- 723
- Reaction score
- 176
- Location
- Table View, Cape Town
- Bike
- Honda CRF-250 Rally
Thanks all for the positive feedback :biggrin:
It's definitely keeping me motivated.
I'm taking a break tonight. It took 11 hours of hard graft just to write and upload day 3 (excluding time taken to create snapshots from all the GoPro footage). :eek7:
3000km! That's harsh. I thank my lucky stars that I have so many beautiful passes "on my doorstep." The Western Cape is also blessed with abundant mountain bike trails. I got to test out my legs again yesterday. I need to make time for my other 2-wheeled hobby!
It's definitely keeping me motivated.
I'm taking a break tonight. It took 11 hours of hard graft just to write and upload day 3 (excluding time taken to create snapshots from all the GoPro footage). :eek7:
T Rex said:
3000km! That's harsh. I thank my lucky stars that I have so many beautiful passes "on my doorstep." The Western Cape is also blessed with abundant mountain bike trails. I got to test out my legs again yesterday. I need to make time for my other 2-wheeled hobby!
Xchallenge
Grey Hound
Cool video! Thanks for sharing.
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2014
- Messages
- 723
- Reaction score
- 176
- Location
- Table View, Cape Town
- Bike
- Honda CRF-250 Rally
Minxy said:
Likewise on your report. I'm still waiting for the last bits. That was some extreme sand riding! I was in awe.
tgg said:
Most likely true. Maar mansmense wil mos nie vra vir aanwysings nie en glo vas dié pad is nou die regte een.
Dag 4 is 'n soortgelyke storie.
:imaposer: Hey Trevor moet nou nie krap waar dit nie jeuk nie
- Joined
- Jul 19, 2014
- Messages
- 723
- Reaction score
- 176
- Location
- Table View, Cape Town
- Bike
- Honda CRF-250 Rally
Day 4: Another dead-end
Google Maps route (planned)
Google Maps route (actual)
Our planned and actual routes continued to diverge. I do not even think that the planned route link above was the eventual planned route, as it had changed again shortly before our trip.
The sound of rain during the night validated our decision to stay in a room rather than camp.
Both Ilse and I were looking forward to relatively effortless roads compared to yesterday. The previous day had been an amazing adventure, but I was now ready to sit back, relax and enjoy the view.
We decided to try out a gravel road from Prince Albert to Laingsburg; running roughly parallel to the N1. We had been warned to try it only from the Prince Albert side, as there was a farmer on that side that may or may not sometimes lock one of the gates. If you came from the other direction it would mean a lot of back-tracking.
The views were fantastic; with moody skies.
You could soak up the scenery, or let the scenery soak you!
This time it was Ilse and I that ended up at a gate; wondering where the guys got to. After some waiting, we headed back to investigate. This time I was not met by a scene from ER, although Gerhard’s bike did need some…
Do not let the beautiful scenery in the photo below detract from the calamity of our little group having to perform our very first side-of-the-road puncture fix.
No convenient middle-of-George setting this time. Middle-of-nowhere is more like it. But what an amazing back-drop.
Lance had been warned that the conveniently-sized, mini tyre levers and bead breakers did not give enough leverage, which was exactly the reason he bought workshop-sized tools. Nevertheless, the bead breakers failed to impress.
Whatever you do Lance, don’t look up!
We decided to try the bike-side-stand technique we had witnessed on a group ride just weeks before. Thank goodness we had Lance’s bike. The two 650s’ side-stands won’t work, as they have an extra loop of metal that will get in the way.
The sound of the bead breaking resulted in smiles all around.
A guy in a 4x4 spotted us and stopped; asking if we needed assistance. We told him we were ok. We had all the right tools at least. We just lacked first-hand experience, but were building it now! We chatted about the route, as it seemed he was also looking for a way through. We warned him about the potentially locked gate and pointed him in the right direction (all of us had initially missed the sharp turn to the right in the route). He was back again in about half an hour to tell us not to bother, as the gate was indeed locked. It was nice of him to go out of his way to warn us. There’s real camaraderie out here in the bundus.
The large tyre-levers definitely gave better leverage, but that isn’t to say we didn’t use every tyre lever we could lay our hands on!
Here is a good time to reflect and be thankful that Gerhard and Ilse came well-prepared. Lance and I have done many trips without a compressor. We had a bicycle pump instead. Can you imagine what you would look like after trying to pump a tyre to 4 bar – the pressure it took for the tyre to reseat onto the rim – with a bicycle pump? I’ll try not to think about it… Ilse even had some sunlight liquid to smear on the tyre to assist with getting it off and back on the rim.
Almost there:
Meanwhile we even had a lightning show in the distance (where the clouds show dark blue in the photo below). It felt out-of-this-world.
Lesson 09: Always invest in the longer tyre-levers.
Lesson 10: A friend’s bike works better than any tools when trying to break a bead. Make sure to pack a friend! They also come in handy for other things such as moral support and chatter.
Lesson 11: Pack spare tubes and make sure there is one compressor for the group. Do I even need to mention this? Our little group of 4 all had tubed tyres. Two of us had punctures; both of them nothing to do with riding style or tyre pressure, but everything to do with damn long nails. How do you guard against that?
Lesson 12: “Jammer-lappie” and water. We had the former, but a drastic shortage of the latter. If you do not have a lot of water, best is to “wash” your hands using sand first. This removes most, if not all, of the grease. Then you can wash the sand off with minimal water.
After about two hours (definitely didn’t break any tyre-change speed records here) we were on our way again. But where to? Our planned route was a no-go. Lance figured there was a way to get back to Prince Albert without going back the way we came. The GPS seemed to show an alternative loop back. I should have known that “Lance” and “alternative route” together mean trouble.
Lance on a mission:
The scruffy road to the left is the one we took.
Déjà vu – disappearing road version 2
The scenery was to die for:
And I was dying slowly, from overheating. We had inserted all our rain layers, because there was rain forecast for the Cape area; our final destination today.
I also came to a sudden, stark realisation. The reason I had felt so on-top-of-the-world during yesterday’s crazy riding was this: There. Was. No. SAND.
Ilse and I were unimpressed. If you looked carefully, you may just have seen our own miniature thunderstorm systems, hovering like a dark cloud over us.
The universe doesn’t like angry women. To maintain cosmic balance and restore peace, it decided to give the guys a strong hint – by ending the road.
Technically the road did not end. It was simply overgrown.
Perhaps some serious bundu-bashing and forest-removal would have seen a way through, but I think the guys took the hint. I would actually like to explore it one day when I’m not drowning in my own sweat. I also need to get my act together with regards to sand (I signed up this week for an introduction to sand riding course).
We turned back on the road that was not quite a road.
It’s there, I swear it is.
See?
Happy person just ran out of happy…
…because of this.
Gerhard not phased:
Ilse doing some paddling
Me doing some paddling
How embarrassing. Let’s redeem ourselves a little bit.
Ilse looking cool:
Me looking cool:
Lance shepherding me. Shame. He was rather sweet, despite feeling murderous vibes from my direction.
Back over the same puddles:
Time was running out for us, which meant that we were only able to fit in one more stretch of gravel: the Witteberge Road. This road has a special place in my heart. I have ridden it three times this year and enjoyed it thoroughly each time. I love the pass on the Laingsburg side; seeing the sweeping views as you drop down.
The guys found a deceptive puddle with a deep hole. They waited for us girls and had a good laugh at our expense.
The Witteberge Road is unfenced, so you should watch out for sheep, horses and cattle. In this case the sheep had to watch out for the bikes.
When we reached the N1, we really did not feel quite ready for tar yet. We did a small section of the rail service road.
Until a locked gate forced us to accept the inevitable.
The rain layers were not installed in vain. We did get caught in the rain on the way home. It cleared enough by the time we got to the Huguenot Tunnel to do Du Toitskloof instead. Du Toiskloof is always my first option, but it may not have been the safest choice in the rain. We finally arrived home in the dark.
Thanks to day three’s adventure, Ilse never did get to ride Swartberg Pass, which she really wanted to see. This only means one thing: when’s the next trip?
THE END
Google Maps route (planned)
Google Maps route (actual)
Our planned and actual routes continued to diverge. I do not even think that the planned route link above was the eventual planned route, as it had changed again shortly before our trip.
The sound of rain during the night validated our decision to stay in a room rather than camp.
Both Ilse and I were looking forward to relatively effortless roads compared to yesterday. The previous day had been an amazing adventure, but I was now ready to sit back, relax and enjoy the view.
We decided to try out a gravel road from Prince Albert to Laingsburg; running roughly parallel to the N1. We had been warned to try it only from the Prince Albert side, as there was a farmer on that side that may or may not sometimes lock one of the gates. If you came from the other direction it would mean a lot of back-tracking.
The views were fantastic; with moody skies.
You could soak up the scenery, or let the scenery soak you!
This time it was Ilse and I that ended up at a gate; wondering where the guys got to. After some waiting, we headed back to investigate. This time I was not met by a scene from ER, although Gerhard’s bike did need some…
Do not let the beautiful scenery in the photo below detract from the calamity of our little group having to perform our very first side-of-the-road puncture fix.
No convenient middle-of-George setting this time. Middle-of-nowhere is more like it. But what an amazing back-drop.
Lance had been warned that the conveniently-sized, mini tyre levers and bead breakers did not give enough leverage, which was exactly the reason he bought workshop-sized tools. Nevertheless, the bead breakers failed to impress.
Whatever you do Lance, don’t look up!
We decided to try the bike-side-stand technique we had witnessed on a group ride just weeks before. Thank goodness we had Lance’s bike. The two 650s’ side-stands won’t work, as they have an extra loop of metal that will get in the way.
The sound of the bead breaking resulted in smiles all around.
A guy in a 4x4 spotted us and stopped; asking if we needed assistance. We told him we were ok. We had all the right tools at least. We just lacked first-hand experience, but were building it now! We chatted about the route, as it seemed he was also looking for a way through. We warned him about the potentially locked gate and pointed him in the right direction (all of us had initially missed the sharp turn to the right in the route). He was back again in about half an hour to tell us not to bother, as the gate was indeed locked. It was nice of him to go out of his way to warn us. There’s real camaraderie out here in the bundus.
The large tyre-levers definitely gave better leverage, but that isn’t to say we didn’t use every tyre lever we could lay our hands on!
Here is a good time to reflect and be thankful that Gerhard and Ilse came well-prepared. Lance and I have done many trips without a compressor. We had a bicycle pump instead. Can you imagine what you would look like after trying to pump a tyre to 4 bar – the pressure it took for the tyre to reseat onto the rim – with a bicycle pump? I’ll try not to think about it… Ilse even had some sunlight liquid to smear on the tyre to assist with getting it off and back on the rim.
Almost there:
Meanwhile we even had a lightning show in the distance (where the clouds show dark blue in the photo below). It felt out-of-this-world.
Lesson 09: Always invest in the longer tyre-levers.
Lesson 10: A friend’s bike works better than any tools when trying to break a bead. Make sure to pack a friend! They also come in handy for other things such as moral support and chatter.
Lesson 11: Pack spare tubes and make sure there is one compressor for the group. Do I even need to mention this? Our little group of 4 all had tubed tyres. Two of us had punctures; both of them nothing to do with riding style or tyre pressure, but everything to do with damn long nails. How do you guard against that?
Lesson 12: “Jammer-lappie” and water. We had the former, but a drastic shortage of the latter. If you do not have a lot of water, best is to “wash” your hands using sand first. This removes most, if not all, of the grease. Then you can wash the sand off with minimal water.
After about two hours (definitely didn’t break any tyre-change speed records here) we were on our way again. But where to? Our planned route was a no-go. Lance figured there was a way to get back to Prince Albert without going back the way we came. The GPS seemed to show an alternative loop back. I should have known that “Lance” and “alternative route” together mean trouble.
Lance on a mission:
The scruffy road to the left is the one we took.
Déjà vu – disappearing road version 2
The scenery was to die for:
And I was dying slowly, from overheating. We had inserted all our rain layers, because there was rain forecast for the Cape area; our final destination today.
I also came to a sudden, stark realisation. The reason I had felt so on-top-of-the-world during yesterday’s crazy riding was this: There. Was. No. SAND.
Ilse and I were unimpressed. If you looked carefully, you may just have seen our own miniature thunderstorm systems, hovering like a dark cloud over us.
The universe doesn’t like angry women. To maintain cosmic balance and restore peace, it decided to give the guys a strong hint – by ending the road.
Technically the road did not end. It was simply overgrown.
Perhaps some serious bundu-bashing and forest-removal would have seen a way through, but I think the guys took the hint. I would actually like to explore it one day when I’m not drowning in my own sweat. I also need to get my act together with regards to sand (I signed up this week for an introduction to sand riding course).
We turned back on the road that was not quite a road.
It’s there, I swear it is.
See?
Happy person just ran out of happy…
…because of this.
Gerhard not phased:
Ilse doing some paddling
Me doing some paddling
How embarrassing. Let’s redeem ourselves a little bit.
Ilse looking cool:
Me looking cool:
Lance shepherding me. Shame. He was rather sweet, despite feeling murderous vibes from my direction.
Back over the same puddles:
Time was running out for us, which meant that we were only able to fit in one more stretch of gravel: the Witteberge Road. This road has a special place in my heart. I have ridden it three times this year and enjoyed it thoroughly each time. I love the pass on the Laingsburg side; seeing the sweeping views as you drop down.
The guys found a deceptive puddle with a deep hole. They waited for us girls and had a good laugh at our expense.
The Witteberge Road is unfenced, so you should watch out for sheep, horses and cattle. In this case the sheep had to watch out for the bikes.
When we reached the N1, we really did not feel quite ready for tar yet. We did a small section of the rail service road.
Until a locked gate forced us to accept the inevitable.
The rain layers were not installed in vain. We did get caught in the rain on the way home. It cleared enough by the time we got to the Huguenot Tunnel to do Du Toitskloof instead. Du Toiskloof is always my first option, but it may not have been the safest choice in the rain. We finally arrived home in the dark.
Thanks to day three’s adventure, Ilse never did get to ride Swartberg Pass, which she really wanted to see. This only means one thing: when’s the next trip?
THE END
schalk vd merwe
Race Dog
Nice RR
Stofdonkie
Grey Hound
Good read. Thanks. :thumleft:
Similar threads
