Begin nou self hartseer voel dat die trippie op n einde kom, maar sien uit na die kuiertjie :lol8:
Tankwa Trek (16 - 30 Sept 2019): Oh I don't know where I'm going
- Thread starter Ri
- Start date
VaalBaas said:
:biggrin:
Day 15
The final day of my vacation arrives, and instead of being at home, relaxed and gently gearing up for going back to work, I am instead still a day's ride away. I'm awake and up surprisingly early, clearing out my lux accommodation and reorganising, once again, my luggage.
I don't know whether I mentioned before, and I'm too lazy to scan my whole report, so I'll mention it again. If I'm repeating myself, feel free to skip ahead. :deal:
My pannier bags and racks are very convenient for spreading and lowering the weight of my load, but usually, mostly for reasons of easy access, I put the bulk of my stuff in a back on the luggage rack. The pannier bags have no removable inner bags, so I used to tie and untie the entire, usually overstuffed, system every night on previous trips, or unpack every item and cart it around as needed. This was less than ideal, and I decided to find a better way.
On my June trip, I had managed to stop myself from overstuffing my pannier bags, leaving the top 5th free for shoving in a sweat shirt or few bottles of water, but I feel this can still be improved on.
A quick trip to the supermarket camping section yields some inexpensive beverage cooler bags, sturdily made and of promising dimensions. In the one I pack a few clothing items, and in the other, my cozzie, nighties and other unmentionables. A smaller square bag contains my myriad meds, potions and toiletries. At each stop, I simply yank these cooler bags from my pannier bags, and I'm ready for the night. Shoes and food items are shoved in around these bags and removed as/when needed. The pannier bags remain on the frames, and I loosen and tighten the tie downs as needed.
I move my tool bag, arguably the heaviest item on the bike after my fluffy self, to rest on the seat right behind me, with the bag, tent and tent mattress tied behind it. The tool bag provides resting place for the water heavy backpack I always wear. The bag was still stuffed, but now with bulky but light items, such as a thick jacket, a down sleeping bag, small polar fleece blank, a pillow, etc.
Now, instead of sumo wrestling the pannier bags with their too-short tie-downs back onto the racks, I do a Tetris tussle, trying to fit various loose items in next to cooler bags. Losing costs a zip handle, and by the end of the trip I'm yanking on a few finger chowing zip ties. Overstuffing a pannier bag causes less strain on the zips than trying to close it on a weirdly shaped object which distorts one half of the zip. Who knew. Packing nirvana almost attained :color:
On this trip my poor camera also threatens to give up the ghost, the lens groaning most distressingly when expanding or retracting, image shaking while it fails to find focus. Despite a hard life on my handlebar, it still serves me faithfully and I promise it some well-deserved R&R.
While I do the f-strap fandango, a lady camping nearby wanders over for a chat. Gerrit pointed them out to me the previous night. The couple seem to be near retirement age, and spend their days travelling all over. The lady drives a camper kombi bus of some sort, and the gent, a tall, slender man, rides a motorbike. It seems he goes on ahead, riding around and scouting affordable camping locations with WiFi from which he can work as a consultant in IT, and then calls the lady to join him. They then camp there for a few days, or longer, and then move on.
A friend is currently touring South America on his KTM1050, but he is a gastro-tourist like Xpat and mostly stays in AirBnBs, only camping under duress. These two are truly digital nomads, riding and driving around with everything they own or need in the van. They have been camping here for 3 days now. She tells me about the varying camping costs in various towns, and that a monthly rate is often cheaper than a daily or weekly camping rate in many places, and how they move around with the seasons. I listen in open-mouthed fascination to the lifestyle she describes.
After my breakfast, washing up and repacking, I am almost ready to go. I do a few calculations and ask Gerrit for a bit of fuel, which he cheerfully sells me. He has been checking around, and tells me I won't be able to exit via Op Die Berg, but will have to ride towards Algeria. I don't mind, I haven't ridden that route in some time, but I'll miss out on the Winkelhaak Rd which I was keen to ride again. I also miss out on the lekker Truitjieskraal road to Kromrivier as it is damaged and closed.
Gerrit advises me to avoid Winkelhaak rd in future. Apparently a farmer of a property the route goes through, has put a few buffalo in a camp to dissuade trespassing. Riding through there could become unexpectedly interesting. Sad, but ah well. There is still Droëkloof to challenge, and there's a very enticing little cottage next to a lake, a few kilometres along in Kareekloof Conservancy.
It is a beautiful day for riding and I head out eagerly. I might be going home, but true to form I haven't yet fixed on the route to ride beyond Algieria.
Gerrit comes to wave me off.
The road heading up the hill towards Algieria doesn't look great.
I head in yet another new direction. Fun times!
The road was scraped recently - looks and feels great to ride.
I've forgotten how amazing the views can be ...
:drif: :drif: :drif:
Choices, choices... I decide to head to Citrusdal. I have to fuel up at some point.
More than one way toskin a cat reach Citrusdal 8)
My zip tie handles
The final day of my vacation arrives, and instead of being at home, relaxed and gently gearing up for going back to work, I am instead still a day's ride away. I'm awake and up surprisingly early, clearing out my lux accommodation and reorganising, once again, my luggage.
I don't know whether I mentioned before, and I'm too lazy to scan my whole report, so I'll mention it again. If I'm repeating myself, feel free to skip ahead. :deal:
My pannier bags and racks are very convenient for spreading and lowering the weight of my load, but usually, mostly for reasons of easy access, I put the bulk of my stuff in a back on the luggage rack. The pannier bags have no removable inner bags, so I used to tie and untie the entire, usually overstuffed, system every night on previous trips, or unpack every item and cart it around as needed. This was less than ideal, and I decided to find a better way.
On my June trip, I had managed to stop myself from overstuffing my pannier bags, leaving the top 5th free for shoving in a sweat shirt or few bottles of water, but I feel this can still be improved on.
A quick trip to the supermarket camping section yields some inexpensive beverage cooler bags, sturdily made and of promising dimensions. In the one I pack a few clothing items, and in the other, my cozzie, nighties and other unmentionables. A smaller square bag contains my myriad meds, potions and toiletries. At each stop, I simply yank these cooler bags from my pannier bags, and I'm ready for the night. Shoes and food items are shoved in around these bags and removed as/when needed. The pannier bags remain on the frames, and I loosen and tighten the tie downs as needed.
I move my tool bag, arguably the heaviest item on the bike after my fluffy self, to rest on the seat right behind me, with the bag, tent and tent mattress tied behind it. The tool bag provides resting place for the water heavy backpack I always wear. The bag was still stuffed, but now with bulky but light items, such as a thick jacket, a down sleeping bag, small polar fleece blank, a pillow, etc.
Now, instead of sumo wrestling the pannier bags with their too-short tie-downs back onto the racks, I do a Tetris tussle, trying to fit various loose items in next to cooler bags. Losing costs a zip handle, and by the end of the trip I'm yanking on a few finger chowing zip ties. Overstuffing a pannier bag causes less strain on the zips than trying to close it on a weirdly shaped object which distorts one half of the zip. Who knew. Packing nirvana almost attained :color:
On this trip my poor camera also threatens to give up the ghost, the lens groaning most distressingly when expanding or retracting, image shaking while it fails to find focus. Despite a hard life on my handlebar, it still serves me faithfully and I promise it some well-deserved R&R.
While I do the f-strap fandango, a lady camping nearby wanders over for a chat. Gerrit pointed them out to me the previous night. The couple seem to be near retirement age, and spend their days travelling all over. The lady drives a camper kombi bus of some sort, and the gent, a tall, slender man, rides a motorbike. It seems he goes on ahead, riding around and scouting affordable camping locations with WiFi from which he can work as a consultant in IT, and then calls the lady to join him. They then camp there for a few days, or longer, and then move on.
A friend is currently touring South America on his KTM1050, but he is a gastro-tourist like Xpat and mostly stays in AirBnBs, only camping under duress. These two are truly digital nomads, riding and driving around with everything they own or need in the van. They have been camping here for 3 days now. She tells me about the varying camping costs in various towns, and that a monthly rate is often cheaper than a daily or weekly camping rate in many places, and how they move around with the seasons. I listen in open-mouthed fascination to the lifestyle she describes.
After my breakfast, washing up and repacking, I am almost ready to go. I do a few calculations and ask Gerrit for a bit of fuel, which he cheerfully sells me. He has been checking around, and tells me I won't be able to exit via Op Die Berg, but will have to ride towards Algeria. I don't mind, I haven't ridden that route in some time, but I'll miss out on the Winkelhaak Rd which I was keen to ride again. I also miss out on the lekker Truitjieskraal road to Kromrivier as it is damaged and closed.
Gerrit advises me to avoid Winkelhaak rd in future. Apparently a farmer of a property the route goes through, has put a few buffalo in a camp to dissuade trespassing. Riding through there could become unexpectedly interesting. Sad, but ah well. There is still Droëkloof to challenge, and there's a very enticing little cottage next to a lake, a few kilometres along in Kareekloof Conservancy.
It is a beautiful day for riding and I head out eagerly. I might be going home, but true to form I haven't yet fixed on the route to ride beyond Algieria.
Gerrit comes to wave me off.
The road heading up the hill towards Algieria doesn't look great.
I head in yet another new direction. Fun times!
The road was scraped recently - looks and feels great to ride.
I've forgotten how amazing the views can be ...
:drif: :drif: :drif:Choices, choices... I decide to head to Citrusdal. I have to fuel up at some point.
More than one way to
My zip tie handles
Day 15 (cont'd)
I reach Citrusdal and ride through town looking for a fuel station. While I fill up, I remember a previous ride through here. A few years ago I had booked and paid for Oasis Spitbraai for two people, but for some reason found myself with extra paid reservation in hand. I advertised the extra ticket, asking whoever took it whether I could tag along with them to Oasis. I thought I'd be OK to reach Oasis alone, but was a bit nervous to ride it by myself then.
[member=20111]hje[/member] took over the ticket from me, inviting me to ride along, and we rode to Citrusdal and over the pass towards Op Die Berg, a new route for me. We became friends and although we didn't have an opportunity to ride together again, remained in contact until his untimely death. Those of you who had met or dealt with [member=20111]hje[/member] might understand the sweet melancholy that suffuses me, for my good fortune in having known him, and the void left by his sudden death. On impulse I decide to ride the route to Op Die Berg we rode that day, in his memory, as I wasn't able at the time to attend his funeral.
The road heads out the back of Citrusdal and then makes a long sweeping turn to the right, climbing a bit and while Panther growls on, I look around, remembering. Sections of the road has been tarred since then, and other sections were newly scraped, causing a few quicksteps with Panther. We take it in our stride. We have gotten to know each other this trip, from a deceptively slow, delicate tango over the rocks, to lovely waltzes along swooping and curving gravel roads, to quick foxtrots over sudden marbles. I am proud of my humble, willing, sure-footed partner.
I ride the gravel roads, Henry's spirit patiently trailing me on the electric blue KLE500, drifting and playing to keep boredom at bay. At Op Die Berg, the phantom KLE turns towards Cederberg Oasis while I carry on towards Ceres. Go well, Henry.
Next, I face a small challenge. Between me and Ceres, there lies a pass. Gydo Pass. I'd sooner shred my tyres on the R355 than ride Gydo Pass, but sometimes it can't be avoided. Approaching from the top is easier, but I still find my eyes searching out the corner where I dented my confidence and a VW Jetta. By grace there weren't any trucks thundering down at that moment or I'd be a smear of strawberry jam. Ugh.
Then I crawl through a busy Prins Alfred Hamlet and then Ceres. I'd like a comfort and coffee break, but none of the places in Ceres grab my fancy, and I head over Mitchell's Pass. At the bottom of Mitchell's Pass, I'm still weighing my options: over Bainskloof, or through Slanghoek Valley and over Du Toitskloof? Meh, both have too much tar.
I reach Citrusdal and ride through town looking for a fuel station. While I fill up, I remember a previous ride through here. A few years ago I had booked and paid for Oasis Spitbraai for two people, but for some reason found myself with extra paid reservation in hand. I advertised the extra ticket, asking whoever took it whether I could tag along with them to Oasis. I thought I'd be OK to reach Oasis alone, but was a bit nervous to ride it by myself then.
[member=20111]hje[/member] took over the ticket from me, inviting me to ride along, and we rode to Citrusdal and over the pass towards Op Die Berg, a new route for me. We became friends and although we didn't have an opportunity to ride together again, remained in contact until his untimely death. Those of you who had met or dealt with [member=20111]hje[/member] might understand the sweet melancholy that suffuses me, for my good fortune in having known him, and the void left by his sudden death. On impulse I decide to ride the route to Op Die Berg we rode that day, in his memory, as I wasn't able at the time to attend his funeral.
The road heads out the back of Citrusdal and then makes a long sweeping turn to the right, climbing a bit and while Panther growls on, I look around, remembering. Sections of the road has been tarred since then, and other sections were newly scraped, causing a few quicksteps with Panther. We take it in our stride. We have gotten to know each other this trip, from a deceptively slow, delicate tango over the rocks, to lovely waltzes along swooping and curving gravel roads, to quick foxtrots over sudden marbles. I am proud of my humble, willing, sure-footed partner.
I ride the gravel roads, Henry's spirit patiently trailing me on the electric blue KLE500, drifting and playing to keep boredom at bay. At Op Die Berg, the phantom KLE turns towards Cederberg Oasis while I carry on towards Ceres. Go well, Henry.
Next, I face a small challenge. Between me and Ceres, there lies a pass. Gydo Pass. I'd sooner shred my tyres on the R355 than ride Gydo Pass, but sometimes it can't be avoided. Approaching from the top is easier, but I still find my eyes searching out the corner where I dented my confidence and a VW Jetta. By grace there weren't any trucks thundering down at that moment or I'd be a smear of strawberry jam. Ugh.
Then I crawl through a busy Prins Alfred Hamlet and then Ceres. I'd like a comfort and coffee break, but none of the places in Ceres grab my fancy, and I head over Mitchell's Pass. At the bottom of Mitchell's Pass, I'm still weighing my options: over Bainskloof, or through Slanghoek Valley and over Du Toitskloof? Meh, both have too much tar.
Day 15 (cont'd)
Inspiration strikes: I've long wanted to pop into Gouda to see [member=13967]VaalBaas[/member] and Vaalnoi for a catch-up, and sommer buy some of his great chili bites, but usually time or opportunity lacks. Today is a good day. As I pass Wolseley towards Nuwekloof, another inspiration strikes. I stop and activate MapOut to see whether there's a way to connect from Wolseley to the old Nuwekloof pass that runs along the left hand side of the kloof. Things look promising, and I turn left into Wolseley.
Breathtaking vistas open up as I head out onto a smooth gravel road. I realise I'd ridden this road before. On the few WhatsApp groups for riding I'm on, most people want to ride on Sundays. I don't ride on Sundays because I'm in my church's worship team and I really enjoy it. Once, I took the initiative and asked for a Saturday ride. [member=4614]Robin Brown[/member], legend that he is, immediately stepped up with a great day route that eventually lead through Kareekloof Conservancy. It was on this ride I met Hanneli Zondach for the first time and amongst other great roads, we had turned onto this road but from the other side, just through Nuwekloof pass.
Near the end of my lekker route I start looking for the road that should connect to the old Nuwekloof Pass road, but to my disgust, the road ends at the tall locked double gates of a commercial property. I sigh in defeat and turn Panther around, join up with the Nuwekloof Pass and turn left towards Gouda. As I swing along the tarred Nuwekloof pass, I enviously eye the old tarred pass running along the opposite bank of the river, just below the train tracks. I'll ride it yet, even if only up to the gate and back to the new road. Who knows, maybe I can find a way through from this side.
The ubiquitous stop-'n-go at the 3-way stop just beyond Nuwekloof must by now be part of the Gouda landscape. It's been there ever since I can remember, and I wonder whether it will ever be dismantled. There is more traffic than I would expect on a Monday, but I soon leave it behind when I turn right towards Gouda, and then left onto the gravel road after the bridge (iirc).
Soon I come to a stop outside [member=13967]VaalBaas[/member]' butchery, a squat building with a smallish door. I push into the sudden dimness from the bright sunshine outside, and take off my helmet to greet [member=13967]VaalBaas[/member], a tall Dutch Dr Frankenstein with a cleaver. He is a lovely person with a dry sense of humour. I quietly stand to one side, enjoying his compassionate interactions with the local populace coming in to look for a small affordable piece of mutton, pig, Walkie Talkies, and such.
When he's done, I place my order for chili bites, lots of, and add a few black molasses Wilson toffees for good measure. Wilson toffees have claimed a tooth or so through the years, but I still insist on testing the strength of the remainder when the opportunity arises, and Vaalbaas' toffee prices is an opportunity not to be ignored. I ask about developments out back and his eyes sparkle. He calls Vaalnoi to keep an eye on the shop, then takes me through to see what he has been doing.
[member=13967]VaalBaas[/member] has been a busy man.
My chin drops slackly when I notice how crowded the once spacious courtyard has become. The guest / B&B rooms seem to be complete. The bar seems to have swallowed what used to be the bike and workshop area, and across from it arose what looks like an airy, tall, modern, glass-fronted industrial warehouse. It is, sort of. It houses a beautiful motorbike collection, and Vaalbaas mentions more bikes and more developments. Dutch Dr Frankenstein indeed, presiding over his Frankenyard. I cannot wait for what is to come - watch this space!! :biggrin:
The bar now sports a sports room, complete with pool table and queues lined up like fishing rods.
... and more bikes. :drif:
I walk through with goggling eyes, masticating my spicy chilli bites thoughtfully. With sudden guilt I realise I'm eating alone, and offer some to Vaalbaas. He laughs and refuses, reminding me he has more than enough, thank you. I don't know what's coming next for this space, but I would love to be here when it happens. There are guest rooms after all, and Gouda is not that far away.
Inspiration strikes: I've long wanted to pop into Gouda to see [member=13967]VaalBaas[/member] and Vaalnoi for a catch-up, and sommer buy some of his great chili bites, but usually time or opportunity lacks. Today is a good day. As I pass Wolseley towards Nuwekloof, another inspiration strikes. I stop and activate MapOut to see whether there's a way to connect from Wolseley to the old Nuwekloof pass that runs along the left hand side of the kloof. Things look promising, and I turn left into Wolseley.
Breathtaking vistas open up as I head out onto a smooth gravel road. I realise I'd ridden this road before. On the few WhatsApp groups for riding I'm on, most people want to ride on Sundays. I don't ride on Sundays because I'm in my church's worship team and I really enjoy it. Once, I took the initiative and asked for a Saturday ride. [member=4614]Robin Brown[/member], legend that he is, immediately stepped up with a great day route that eventually lead through Kareekloof Conservancy. It was on this ride I met Hanneli Zondach for the first time and amongst other great roads, we had turned onto this road but from the other side, just through Nuwekloof pass.
Near the end of my lekker route I start looking for the road that should connect to the old Nuwekloof Pass road, but to my disgust, the road ends at the tall locked double gates of a commercial property. I sigh in defeat and turn Panther around, join up with the Nuwekloof Pass and turn left towards Gouda. As I swing along the tarred Nuwekloof pass, I enviously eye the old tarred pass running along the opposite bank of the river, just below the train tracks. I'll ride it yet, even if only up to the gate and back to the new road. Who knows, maybe I can find a way through from this side.
The ubiquitous stop-'n-go at the 3-way stop just beyond Nuwekloof must by now be part of the Gouda landscape. It's been there ever since I can remember, and I wonder whether it will ever be dismantled. There is more traffic than I would expect on a Monday, but I soon leave it behind when I turn right towards Gouda, and then left onto the gravel road after the bridge (iirc).
Soon I come to a stop outside [member=13967]VaalBaas[/member]' butchery, a squat building with a smallish door. I push into the sudden dimness from the bright sunshine outside, and take off my helmet to greet [member=13967]VaalBaas[/member], a tall Dutch Dr Frankenstein with a cleaver. He is a lovely person with a dry sense of humour. I quietly stand to one side, enjoying his compassionate interactions with the local populace coming in to look for a small affordable piece of mutton, pig, Walkie Talkies, and such.
When he's done, I place my order for chili bites, lots of, and add a few black molasses Wilson toffees for good measure. Wilson toffees have claimed a tooth or so through the years, but I still insist on testing the strength of the remainder when the opportunity arises, and Vaalbaas' toffee prices is an opportunity not to be ignored. I ask about developments out back and his eyes sparkle. He calls Vaalnoi to keep an eye on the shop, then takes me through to see what he has been doing.
[member=13967]VaalBaas[/member] has been a busy man.
My chin drops slackly when I notice how crowded the once spacious courtyard has become. The guest / B&B rooms seem to be complete. The bar seems to have swallowed what used to be the bike and workshop area, and across from it arose what looks like an airy, tall, modern, glass-fronted industrial warehouse. It is, sort of. It houses a beautiful motorbike collection, and Vaalbaas mentions more bikes and more developments. Dutch Dr Frankenstein indeed, presiding over his Frankenyard. I cannot wait for what is to come - watch this space!! :biggrin:
The bar now sports a sports room, complete with pool table and queues lined up like fishing rods.
... and more bikes. :drif:
I walk through with goggling eyes, masticating my spicy chilli bites thoughtfully. With sudden guilt I realise I'm eating alone, and offer some to Vaalbaas. He laughs and refuses, reminding me he has more than enough, thank you. I don't know what's coming next for this space, but I would love to be here when it happens. There are guest rooms after all, and Gouda is not that far away.
Day 15 (cont'd)
I lean against the counter for a while, happily chewing my chilli bites and listening to Vaalbaas and Vaalnoi's stories about the rides they used to do - as far as Baviaanskloof over a weekend Life got busy, and there isn't much time left for riding. Vaalbaas, who knows all the gravel roads around here and probably much wider, explains how I can reach Du Vlei from Gouda. At Du Vlei I can take the Porseleinberg Rd, which goes all the way to Wellington. I thank them, don the protective gear, shove a few short chilli sticks into my pockets, and get going again.
The road is exactly as Vaalbaas explained it except despite having to only turn twice, I still manage to miss a turn and end up in someone's yard. The yard is wide though and before anyone can notice, I'm turned and out like a shot. I reach Du Vlei, where there's another stop-'n-go but without traffic, I just get waived through, and then I'm on the Porseleinberg Rd. The sun is sinking, Panther hits his stride and I'm feeling mellow, shoving a chilli bite under the helmet awkwardly now and then.
The other end of the Porseleinberg Road is called Haaskraal Road.
Last of the gravel for now :'(
I reach the outskirts of Wellington, and in front of me is another motorbiker on probably a BMW or some other biggish bike. For sports I give chase and manage to catch up a bit. When he turns left towards Wellington I unthinkingly follow, but catch myself at the next intersection, and find a place to turn around.
Then it's the long slog on the R44 towards Stellenbosch. Thanks to Vaalbaas though, now it is only 60km of tar, but with all the cars racing past, already I long to be back on gravel. I ride close to the yellow line so motorists can pass easily. I reach home safely and my cousin's dogs welcome me with more restraint than they did when I was away for 2 weeks for work, a month ago. Clearly I'm not to be trusted to remain in one spot for long.
I cannot wait for my next long ride :drif:
I lean against the counter for a while, happily chewing my chilli bites and listening to Vaalbaas and Vaalnoi's stories about the rides they used to do - as far as Baviaanskloof over a weekend
Life got busy, and there isn't much time left for riding. Vaalbaas, who knows all the gravel roads around here and probably much wider, explains how I can reach Du Vlei from Gouda. At Du Vlei I can take the Porseleinberg Rd, which goes all the way to Wellington. I thank them, don the protective gear, shove a few short chilli sticks into my pockets, and get going again.The road is exactly as Vaalbaas explained it except despite having to only turn twice, I still manage to miss a turn and end up in someone's yard. The yard is wide though and before anyone can notice, I'm turned and out like a shot. I reach Du Vlei, where there's another stop-'n-go but without traffic, I just get waived through, and then I'm on the Porseleinberg Rd. The sun is sinking, Panther hits his stride and I'm feeling mellow, shoving a chilli bite under the helmet awkwardly now and then.
The other end of the Porseleinberg Road is called Haaskraal Road.
Last of the gravel for now :'(
I reach the outskirts of Wellington, and in front of me is another motorbiker on probably a BMW or some other biggish bike. For sports I give chase and manage to catch up a bit. When he turns left towards Wellington I unthinkingly follow, but catch myself at the next intersection, and find a place to turn around.
Then it's the long slog on the R44 towards Stellenbosch. Thanks to Vaalbaas though, now it is only 60km of tar, but with all the cars racing past, already I long to be back on gravel. I ride close to the yellow line so motorists can pass easily. I reach home safely and my cousin's dogs welcome me with more restraint than they did when I was away for 2 weeks for work, a month ago. Clearly I'm not to be trusted to remain in one spot for long.
I cannot wait for my next long ride :drif:
Crossed-up
Pangaman
My! You do write a splendid report. Thank you.
Crossed-up said:
Ah but it was such a splendid ride. Thank you, and I hope to see you soon.
Quite a compliment - thank you! :biggrin:
Thanks Ri. Nice to see the pictures of this project of mine. Sometimes I also have to sit back and enjoy the views. When you.re in it the dream becomes work, but there will be and end :ricky: :deal:
Dankie vir die lekker kuier RR Ri. :thumleft:
Geel Kat said:
I enjoy meeting new WDs. Met [member=7703]Jacobsroodt[/member] today - a very pleasant and patient person with lots of advice :thumleft:
And [member=2975]Crossed-up[/member] hangs out <a href=https://wilddog.net.za/forum/index.php?topic=109353.0>here</a> now :biggrin: Once my trailer is patched and ready, I might just join them one Sunday.
Geel Kat
Race Dog
- Joined
- Sep 16, 2015
- Messages
- 2,201
- Reaction score
- 0
- Bike
- NER-A-CAR
Ri said:
I know that thread, I started it
The two people most passionate about the quarry and tracks... Crossed-up and Dogmatix... at some point I also played there a bit.
Anyway, back to your ride report... thank you again.
Crossed-up
Pangaman
Hello [member=21287]Geel Kat[/member]. I think we'll have to have another end-of-year gathering and invite Ri along for the occasion. She's been promising to join us for so long ...
the ruffian
Race Dog
As usual, Ri, your detailing of the physical actualities of your ride is impressive, but it is your understated presentation of the emotionality of your ride that is most compelling: in particular I love your nuanced evocation of the memory of Henry.
Readers be warned: The story Ri tells herself (and you) of her riding ability is not to be trusted. Having done a long ride with her before, she is much more competent and accomplished than she makes herself out to be... And in her solo modality, as inappropriate as the metaphor may be, she has a serious set of stones...
Readers be warned: The story Ri tells herself (and you) of her riding ability is not to be trusted. Having done a long ride with her before, she is much more competent and accomplished than she makes herself out to be... And in her solo modality, as inappropriate as the metaphor may be, she has a serious set of stones...
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2011
- Messages
- 10,699
- Reaction score
- 4,351
- Location
- sasolburg
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
thanks Ri , FANTASTIC ADVENTURE , THANKS FOR SHARING
Similar threads
