Over coffee Eikeboom voices his concern at the length of time it's taken us to reach Herbertsdale, and I immediately feel guilty about all the photo stops. At this pace, we won't complete Eikeboom's ambitious route home before dinner time. We also chat to the proprietor of the establishment, and decide that instead of riding Albertinia-Stilbaai-Blombos-Vermaaklikheid, we'll head straight to Riversdale and head to Vermaaklikheid from there, cutting out a few kilometres. From there we'll follow the original plan of riding to Witsand and then over Malgas, then gravel to Caledon and then home.
We finish up, pay up, gear up, mount up and chin up. Time to ride! The road to Riversdale is quite beautiful, starting high and then dropping into a valley of some sort.
We take a quick comfort and fuel break at Riversdal, and then make haste to Vermaaklikheid. These are gravel highways with nice sweeping turns and little white tufts of sheep here and there. We reach Vermaaklikheid and ride through on the misapprehension that I know where I'm going. I quickly realise this is not the terrain I expected to see, and come to a dusty halt. The men get busy on their cell phones, but another friendly local directs us back in the direction of Witsand with clear instructions.
We reach Witsand without incident, and as there's still time before the pontoon closes for the night, we stop for a cool drink and a snack at Pili Pili in Witsand.
Hard to get tired of this view...
A
nosy friendly lady overhears Growweblaar's wish for a photo of us, and eagerly offers to take it.
Heading toward Malgas for a pontoon ride
When we reach the pontoon, there is another biker on a Sunday ride, on his way home. The pontoon that had just pulled away to the other side, immediately halted and came back to our side to pick up up. Why do extra work unnecessarily? They were clearly very miffed when just over halfway through the river, a car stopped on our side again. :lol8:
Up the other side we go
We turn towards Bredasdorp, but before we reach it, we turn right towards Protem (I think) and start to cut diagonally across towards the N2. It is mostly a straight road, with little twists here and there. It is in good condition except where it isn't :imaposer:
We seem to make good time as the sun sinks lower in the sky, until the road suddenly starts to veer right alarmingly, and Growweblaar's homing instinct kicks in. We come to a sliding stop and the cell phones come out as Growweblaar and Eikeboom discuss this unexpected development. It turns out we should have turned left about 5 km ago. No biggie, then.
As we prepare to turn around, two plumes of dust from the opposite direction herald the arrival of Jean and Jaco, on a KTM and BMW F800GS, respectively. They stop to find out whether we're experiencing any issues, and then invite us to follow them, as they're headed to Riviersonderend to fill up. We happily comply.
At Riviersonderend we all fill up. Eikeboom informs us that when we reach Caledon he's going to part ways, as he's going to visit family.
Jaco tells me they are taking gravel road to Caledon, and ask whether we'd like to join. I'm not at all keen for the slog to Caledon on the N2, and am quite ready to ride with them, but Growweblaar and Eikeboom are in a hurry and veto me.
Ironically, when we stop to wave good bye to Eikeboom and don some more layers against the icy wind, Jaco comes shooting past into Caledon, hooting a greeting. Ah well.
We turn onto the N2 again, and I see something silver flutter off Growweblaar's bike and into the road, and being driven over by a bakkie. Growweblaar has lost his silver lining. I hoot furiously, skid to a halt and jump off the Gentleman, taking care to avoid another sidestand incident. I hurry towards the garment lying in the road, inasmuch as one can hurry dressed for survival on Mars. I stick it in my belt and ride slowly towards Growweblaar, who quickly dons it, and we head home to arrive in deep dusk.
On Baden-Powell, about 6 km from home, Gentleman suddenly starts to stutter. I quickly switch to reserve and ride on while he does his normal sucking-and-latching thing, and he even out. I look at the distance I've ridden on the tank, and decide that it's unlikely Gentleman has hit reserve, and that I was probably imagining things. I switch back to normal.
If Gentleman were a person on oxygen supply, he would surely have clawed at his face and turned blue. He stutters immediately and skids to a halt. Oh dear! Seems I was wrong, and the Gentleman had sucked deeply to fight the high pressure system all the way from Caledon. I turn the petcock to reserve and try to start the Gentleman, but he's still passed out from lack of
oxygen fuel, and doesn't respond. I try a few more times, but nothing happens. Now I worry about killing the battery, and decide to stop trying.
Thank goodness I'd thought to arrange for house sitters! I text Dux that I thought I'd run out of fuel and couldn't get the bike started. He texts back that he'll be there in a few minutes. I start pushing the bike home in the dark while cars rush past me. I decide to try one more time, and open the choke. Gentleman has regained consciousness by now, and starts up immediately, to my huge relief. I hop on and start riding home, keeping an eye out for Dux. He turns into Baden-Powell as I reach the traffic light to turn towards home, and I flash and wave to show it's me. Dux makes a U-turn, and we head home.
I reach home in the dark, again, but this time the Gentleman is sporting LED spotlights bright enough to light up Athlone Stadium. I quickly unload and head for bed, ready to dream about the next ride :ricky:
