The Bushpig Thumper Bash - Bankfontein farm - 12-14 April 2024 - Two Nights off line! & RR

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Short clip of the koedoe again:



The views all around were simply lovely, and the day was not too hot, perfect for riding.

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We stocked up on energy just in time. The road ahead became a bit rockier and washed away. Over the ridge ahead we met a grim-looking man on a small "stootskraper" followed by a bakkie filled with what appeared to be his wife and children. I thought to myself, good on them for supporting Dad in fixing the road!

There was a long lane of gum trees, then my "shortcut" met up with what I presumed was the Kompasberg road, but when I asked Tony he just shook his head, mystified. Terra incognita. We turned right towards Middelburg and the road became slightly worse: an uneven, rocky, loose almost 2-spoor twisted up a long hill like a drunk bergie. with gauges and bit tufts of grass and roots where the stootskraper had crawled. I suddenly understood its driver's grim look.

Over the rise the mountains opened and the road widened into a small valley and my mouth fell open as I watched a herd of Blouwildebeest trot away from me into a dip and Hartebees (I think) split and scattered. There was an albino in the line of Hartebees, and I stopped to grab a photo.

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Once out of the valley, the road evened out. We came across some small mud puddles in the road, and some bigger ones.



The day heated up. We passed through more nature conservation areas covered with green growth and antelope, then turned right again. We reached Middelburg where Tony stopped at the nearest Wimpy to inhale a burger and Coke while I filled my backpack's water bladder. It had taken us about 4 hours to ride 100 km.

While we filled up and took a comfort break, a youngish Gautenger and his dad walked over to chat to us. The son was visiting his dad who lived in the area. His eyes glistened as he looked over our mud stained pigs and he told us about his own bike, a V-Strom, that he wasn't keen to ride off-road.

I asked them about the gravel route I'd plotted to Colesberg and the dad waved his hand unconcernedly and said it was all farm roads, it would be fine. Backed with this assurance and information that there were multiple stop-and-go's along the 99 km tar road, I prepared to do battle with Tony to persuade him to take my "garden" route. He didn't say anything, but I had a hunch he didn't enjoy the morning's ride as much as I did. To my happy surprise, Tony merely said if I could find the road, we could ride it.

Either he was one of Nature's slower learners, or the burger had amazing restorative properties and he was ready for more.
 

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Was that from Neu Bethesda to Middelburg? Parts seem familiar to my MMC Karoo trip.
Some parts were litterally old tweespoor.
 
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As mentioned, @Tony the Boney agreed to ride my plotted route. It is possible his mind was on the lamb chops @RobCrouch had promised for dinner and he wasn't paying attention, because he is not a stupid man.

I was excited to see this long stretch of farm road after the rain, and it had 3 "escape routes" back to the N1 in case of emergency. It started as a lovely stretch of gravel road with tracks swinging around and between slowly drying mud pools. We rode at a steady pace and chose our lines carefully. As we got to the halfway mark, the road condition worsened. It passed a nature conservation area and probably didn't see much traffic. It didn't become a 2-spoor, but the road became loose, rough and corrugated.

We stopped to take a break, and Tony looked a bit grim. The steering of the new (to him) DR650 felt loose and vague, and the soft shocks were shaking him uncomfortably. I offered one of the "escape routes", but since we were about halfway, Tony felt we should carry on.

Eventually the terrain started to even out into wide fields and the road became smoother again. We dodged a puddle here and there, but riding was more comfortable. The last puddle of the day was wide and surrounded by damp mush. I slacked down and rode in the veld around it. Behind me Tony also slacked down and then rolled into the puddle. I kept an eye on Tony in my rearview mirror while I accelerated slowly, and saw that he was through the puddle.

The next time I glanced in the mirror, he was gone! No plume of dust, no motorbike, no Tony. I paddled around in a u-turn as quickly as I could and rode back, scanning the emptiness. I was dumbfounded - how could he just disappear...?!

When I reached the puddle, I saw the motorbike lying on its side in the tall grass, trapping Tony underneath. I quickly walked over and heaved at the motorbike's seat so Tony could crawl out, praying earnestly that he hadn't broken anything. He was able to get up from the bike and walk around, and I breathed a thankful sigh. His knee was really sore but his ankle and foot felt OK, and he could walk. While we plotted on how to get the motorbike back on the road, a burly young red-headed farmer stopped and offered assistance. He was shorter than I am, but managed to almost single-handedly lift the bike and pull it back to the road. After mentioning that we were only about 5 km from the tar road, he made a quick get-away. Tony and I lingered, pulling ourselves towards ourselves, then slowly found our way to Colesberg where we filled up for the last stretch to Philippolis and then Bankfontein.

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