Short clip of the koedoe again:
The views all around were simply lovely, and the day was not too hot, perfect for riding.
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.
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.