Thumperbash 2021

[XTJoe]

Will catch up with some writing over the weekend but waiting for some of our gifted attendees to share here. Some pics might be duplicated of our fantastic Koedoeskloof and surrounds which is looking its all time best this year, Big plans for next year as it will be the 10th anniversary  and were looking at going big. Besides the normal  eat & kuier nicely a few more  prizes maybe some live music, a talk by one of our gifted boytjies and nice route will be laid out,. Missed Gerhard this year but heard was offering some pole-dancing classes for next year- terg my maat- plek was net stiller sonder jou en daai lekker pyp.

 

[XTJoe]

some general pics friday through saturday

 

[Tony the Boney]

It was a great bash. Thanks Sean  :thumleft:

 

[Tony the Boney]

My favourite part of the Dwarsrivier valley

 

[Gerard]

Ek het maar met leedwese die naweek deurgemaak. Was my eerste thumper bash om te mis.

 

[2StrokeDan]

Ek het maar met leedwese die naweek deurgemaak. Was my eerste thumper bash om te mis.

En jy was gemis.

 

[Odd Dog]

Yes I wanted to get a close up view of your Italian Stallion.

 

[woody1]

Ek het maar met leedwese die naweek deurgemaak. Was my eerste thumper bash om te mis.

Ag jy het darem vir my gehad :laughing4:

 

[Ri]

It is Friday late morning when I tighten the last luggage strap and swing my short leg over my short bike. I struggle to drag the bike backwards up a slight but very sandy incline, coming to a red-faced puffing stop after inching back about 1 cm. It's enough to get the front wheel past the trailer's hook and I fire up Hooligent and carefully paddle around, then pull away waving a cheerful good bye at my niece. My new silver grey mesh jacket complements my silver grey hair and I feel like a monochrome model for a geriatric biker ladies' magazine.

The open roads await.

But first, the +- 7 km of Heaven on Earth that is the 2-spoor track from the farm house to the last gate draws me in with false promises of firm surfaces and gentle turns. Instead, it hides sly sandy patches in shallow river beds and barely visible bumps that rudely buck up Gent's behind and threaten to eject me. I hunker over the bars and try shifting my weight around a bit, sucking in the still-crispy air joyfully.

Final gate closed behind me, I gaze dolefully at the tar stretching into the distance. If I hadn't had such a leisurely visit with my sister this morning I could've taken the more attractive Oukloof Pass road down to Leeu Gamka, but I don't want to arrive at Ladismith in the dark. I open up and veer into the road.

As I approach Theekloof Pass, barely 20km from the farm, I notice a stationary motorbike by the side of the road and come to a halt to check whether he needs fuel or something I can help with. He doesn't look in distress, and it turns out he stopped to take pictures. After touring up the West Coast with Mouton van Zyl, he rode solo along the Orange River, over Verneukpan and down to Williston, and is undecided on where to go next. When he finds out I'm headed towards the Thumper Bash, he decides to join me, happy for some company after the long quiet days. His name is Deon. I tell him my route and wave him ahead with instructions on where to wait, but although his 800GS quickly pulls away from me, I never really lose sight of him.

I laugh aloud in my helmet when I imagine telling my sister about picking up a biker by the side of the road after barely leaving the farm.

We stop at the lookout point at Theewaterskloof Pass where Deon snaps a quick pic and takes off again, but a friendly couple sight seeing there engage me in conversation and I take a bit longer to get away.

A surprising touch of green at the Theekloof Pass waterfall.

"What is that, an XT?"

 

[TheHamster]

So don't stop....... [emoji849]

Sent from my vivo 1820 using Tapatalk

 

[Ri]

So don't stop....... [emoji849]

Sent from my vivo 1820 using Tapatalk

Patience young Padawan :laughing4:

 

[Ri]

We turn onto the N1 at Leeu Gamka and I briefly consider stopping for a comfort break, but I've stopped at Leeu Gamka before and there's little comfort to be had. I decide to push through, and we turn off onto the Kruidfontein Road, the first time Deon travels this road. It is dry and dusty but still picturesque with the magnificent mountainous backdrop.

In Prince Albert, Deon stops at the first fuel station to fill up and I go in search of the keys for the ladies' bathroom. It turns out to be non-functional and I'm instructed to make use of the men's bathroom. Fortunately it is fairly clean and the crib outside unoccupied for the short duration of my visit. I'm not hungry and Deon had a big breakfast, and neither of us consider alcohol and bikes to be a good mix, and we head onwards towards Swartberg Pass.

Probably due to the public holiday, the pass is covered in vehicles, mostly bicycles. Some group organises bicycle tours over Swartberg Pass, dropping off an Argus load of cyclists at one end of the pass, slowly following them over the pass in vans towing cycle trailers, and then presumably picking them up again on the other side. I pass them wide and slowly, smiling and nodding at everyone, and they gratefully nod back. "Idiots", I think to myself, then quickly rebuke myself for my callousness.

Much too soon Swartberg Pass is behind me, and we stop at Kobus se Gat for a cooldrink, where Deon catches up with his better half on his recent adventures.

I notice a bolt missing from my manifold and we ask Kobus about 8mm bolts as my tool bag yields nothing, and he sends his Malawian handyman to assist. Between them, Deon and the handy Malawian find the right sized bolt and saw it down to the correct length before screwing it in complete with Loctite, and soon my bike is good to go. It is only later that I notice I inadvertently donated my Nr 12 spanner as payment for the task. I smile to myself. It's found the best home.

Refreshed, we turn onto the dry but always beautiful Groenfontein Road. When we reach Ladismith we stop to fill up for the next day's ride, and I draw money for T-shirts and drinks. We finally pull in at Koedoeskloof where I direct Deon to chat to Sean about payments and stuff. There are quite a few people chatting away already and I'm soon drawn into conversation.

It's great to see everyone again.

 

[Ri]

The evening is lovely and chilled. When I get up to buy a drink, I'm hijacked into chatting with the next person, or drawn into the next group, and the evening rolls on delightfully. I brag about Veldblom's beautiful curry only to be snookered - the kitchen dishes up stew. It is very tasty stew, but still disappointing when your taste buds are crying for good green curry. Ah well.

While I'm listening to Danie and André trading war adventure stories, there is a sudden commotion behind me. A big rain spider had stalked up to one of the hugely fat geckos and tagged it. The gecko and an equally fat mate then stormed the spider which scurried down the wall poste haste and disappeared beneath the patio floorboards. When I jump up to take a closer look, I can see its hairy little legs peering over the edge of the board.

I join my roomies Tony the Boney and Odd Dog at our clean and spacious cottage further down the road and tuck in for an early night.

Early the next morning I'm up to get ready to grab breakfast. I'm riding with Keith Pickersgill and his group today because they're doing Rooiberg Pass and it's been on my bucket list for a while. The shower is a gas shower and I struggle to find a balance between hot and cold. Eventually I turn off all the taps, open the hot tap full and wait for the water to heat up. When it becomes too hot I quickly open the cold tap until the water becomes bearable for a second, when the gas cuts out and the water quickly becomes very cold again. Rinse and repeat until I'm clean to my satisfaction.

After breakfast the group pulls away and we wind our way through the vineyards. From Ladismith we take the Hoeko road, and I come across of riders on the first bend. Adrian has a flat front tyre, and Kim and Peter and other Peter stop to assist him. I also stop and offer a tube, which Adrian gratefully accepts. It turns out to be a back tube though, but fortunately Kim has a front tube for him. While tool tubes are unrolled and tubes discussed, Chris Heunis arrives, but he is eager to be on his way again, and other Peter joins him. I tell them to wait for me, but then realise that I will only hold them back and Chris likes to ride fast. They pull away and quickly disappear over the hill.

I take my time donning my gloves and helmet, happy at the prospect of riding by myself for a bit. I trundle over the next two hills and down a long incline I see Peter bending over a ditch. There are two cyclists in the road, and they babble unintelligibly at me about coming around the corner too fast and and hurting ankle and shoulder. I for some unfathomable reason assume it's a cyclist who ended up in the ditch. I take the number of a nearby doctor and turn back in search of signal. A third Peter, P.K., arrives in the meantime and starts to give assistance.

Two hills back and still no signal, I walk up a stunning looking track of some nature reserve, tying a know at the back of my mind to come back to it with a lighter bike in future. When I walk back to the bike, able to see Ladismith's outskirts but unable to contact it, one of the cyclists stop by the bike. When I tell him I haven't found signal yet, he reckons he'll get to signal before me, and kicks off. I get on the bike and arrive at the bottom where the tyre fixers are now ready to carry on, and tell them about the broken cyclist. Kim fortunately has signal, and I dial the number and talk to the doctor about dispatching the ambulance. He wants me to give me the number for the ambulance, but I tell him I was told he could help, and that we're just passing through. He thankfully agrees to make all the arrangements.

Kim and the others are gone in a flash and I turn back again. When I reach the accident spot, I notice that there are two bikes but only one rider, Peter. There is now also a bakkie parked by the road, and an older gent and lady holding a small tarp to provide shade for whoever is in the ditch.

"Whose bike is this?", I ask, coming to a stop. Everyone looks at me mystified and the gent says, "The biker who crashed. Do you know him?" One of US?!! I think, shocked. I walk up the ditch and peer behind the tarp at the biker lying there, sweating, clearly in pain, and uncomfortable. "Ag fok tog, Chris..."

Chris laughs at me weakly. It seems he came around the bend too fast and rode into the inside ditch. He kept it together for some distance but then a cyclist appeared ahead and he crashed in a washout. Despite choosing a soft landing spot in a dense bush, he still managed to do himself some damage.

The next moment the ambulance pulls up with a passenger already inside, and an older slender lady steps out, along with a buxom younger lady covered in tattoos. They immediately check out Chris's injuries and insert an IV drip, probably for hydration. Keith comes to find out whether I want to continue riding with them, and tries to give Chris pain meds but the medics refuse, worried that Chris might need to be operated on immediately and not being able to get anaesthetic due it possibly not agreeing with the pain meds.

Chris is not exactly a light weight, and it takes all of us to help turn, pull and manoeuvre to get Chris installed on the stretcher, and then lifted and carried to the ambulance, all of us in all our riding kit. It is hot, gruelling work. Once Chris is in the ambulance, the third Peter takes off and the second Peter decides to follow him to the hospital and keep him company. With the stress and hard work done, I suddenly tear up, and everyone tries to console me and tell me Chris is going to be fine. Peter even tells Chris I'm crying over him! I assure them it is only relief and that I have no desire to go to the hospital with him, I'm sure he's in good hands.

The second Peter (ex-Parkinoff), who incidentally is participating in Honda Quest Boot Camp soon

I've lost my appetite for adventure riding for the day, but I still want to ride Rooiberg Pass, so I ignore my gut feeling to turn back, and carry on with Keith and Co. We soon strike out on the Groenfontein Road, but Hooligent isn't handling well at all. He is sluggish around corners and doesn't want to turn. I complain to riders around me, but don't think too much of it. Soon I find the riders grouped under shady trees at the t-junction where the road turns towards Swartberg Pass. There is another puncture in the group. Since I'm not much use and I'm unhappy about Hooli's handling, I ask Keith whether I can carry on, and Gary (our Scottish Leader from the Postal Route) joins me as he has the route.

We almost miss the turn-off towards the R62, and have to turn around. Standing by the side of the road, I watch in my rearview mirror to see whether Gary is also turning. I watch as he spins the bike around to turn it and then drops it, picking it up again quick as a flash. I laugh aloud, and carry on riding.

When we reach the R62, we stop to check where to next, and here Rika finds us. She is coming to join us for the rest of the ride. We grab something to eat at Bella di Karoo, and then head onwards to Rooiberg Pass. The road is long, straight and boring, and Hooligent wallows like a drunken hippo. Tired and hot, I feel that I'm losing concentration and cutting out while riding. I finally stop and tell Gary I'm turning back, he must please tell Keith. Then I turn around back the way I came.

Rather than face the R62 though, I again take Groenfontein Road as a consolation prize, but Hooligent brings no joy. I race towards Ladismith, keen to be out of the saddle, worried about the bike's lack of grip. At Ladismith I fill up again for the road home, and a biker walking by points out that my rear tyre looks quite flat. Ah! That must have been it! The "pomp joggie" inflates it and I race towards Koedoeskloof, happier with the roadholding but a bit concerned about why my back tyre was so deflated.

At Koedoeskloof, I don't see Tony or Brian, and I carry on to our lodgings to grab an hour or so snooze. It is such a nice afternoon though that we sit and shoot the breeze until Tony and Brian get ready for the evening and I go lie down for a few minutes. They don't find the trick with the shower, and both end up taking cold showers, much to their dismay.

I get up just before the start of festivities and although I'm not in the mood for a cold shower, I decide that I need to freshen up. With great relief I find that turning the hot water up fully still causes scalding hot water to flow from the shower head. Then I head over to Koedoeskloof, unhappy to find Hooli a bit wallowy again. It seems the back tyre is still leaking air.

 

[Ri]

I arrive at Koedoeskloof and dusk is already falling. The yard is brimful of motorbikes. I head into the bar for a refreshment and run into Kim and Rika who had just arrived with Keith's group. Rika grabs me in an unexpected hug and holds on, commiserating with me for having to turn around while I lean against her awkwardly, until she is ready to let go. She seems to be an impulsive and good natured person. Her beautiful black Yammie T700 draws a lot of attention. Drink in hand I head out to join Tony and Brian.

It is time for the prize giving. Gavin Bradley is in good form, chirping and joking with everyone and sounding like an auctioneer as he describes the lovely prizes sponsored by the usual and some by a few new sponsors. There are more discount shopping vouchers from more shops, which I reckon is a pretty safe sponsorship, going by my steady record of not having used a single one of the many vouchers I've received at the Thumper Bash :imaposer:

Then Rika jumps up to whisper in Sean's ear, and he suddenly looks grave. Hushing everyone, Sean announces the mother of all prizes: a free entry to the next LDBA organised by Rika, 3+ days of participation and accommodation, valued at at least R5,000. The excitement is palpable while we wait for Rika to make the draw, but there can be only one winner and everyone else turns away, disappointed. What a magnificent prize!

Prize-giving over, the flames are stoked higher, the buzz of conversation picks up again, and the designated braaiers engage in hand-to-groin combat for the few available grills. Tony assumes responsibility for the preparation of my meat and soon it arrives at the table in perfect condition - medium rare, as it should be, and well seasoned. The evening and the conversation carries on and soon I find myself one of the last people standing, facing a line of shooters that came out of nowhere, I swear!

Then it is time to go home. As Dwerg hugs me good bye, he thanks me again for letting him ride my Hooligan in Kaokoland. Contrary to my belief that it was the prince of Kaokoland bikes, it had in fact been a horrible little oil and petrol guzzler with uneven foot pegs and handlebars. But even a horrible little bike that can ride is better than being a passive passenger in a back up vehicle, unable to participate in the delights of the Marienfluss.

My face falls as I face my fallen back tyre. Carl Metelercamp reckons there is enough air left that I should get home OK, and offers to escort me back to Toorkraaltjie. A little subdued I crawl down the road with Carl as wingman, and soon I pull up at my front door. Carl gives a wave and roars away down the driveway. My roomies are dozing off already, and I crawl through the dark house quickly, preparing to go to sleep as well.

What a great evening it has been! I give a contented sigh and doze off instantly. I'm already excited for next year's 10th anniversary!

 

[Ri]

I'm up early to pack up and tie down my few bits of luggage, and then I buzz around poor Tony's and Brian's ears like an unmusical mosquito, worried about my back tyre. It is undeniably flat, but Tony comes to the rescue with stuff to put in the tube to plug any hole. He upends the entire bottle into the tube and we spin it quickly to spread the goo. After a quick 'pomp' I'm dispatched to Koedoeskloof to cement the plug, so to speak, and to make sure that there's breakfast for Tony and Brian, who still need to pack up and will only arrive later.

When I stop at Koedoeskloof, most people are either gone already or just about to leave. I run around checking that there's enough breakfast for Tony and Brian, too nervous to eat. Like a little schnauzer that's buried a bone, I keep rushing back to my bike to check the back wheel, and then to the porch again.

Deon, seeing my pinched face, worries my worry out of me and asks whether I want him to ride back to the Karoo with me. I have a 2-bike trailer, I'll be able to take him and his bike home the next day, but it's no use since he can't take more leave. Then his face lights up: we'll change my tyre before I leave, to give me peace of mind. Keith's group are all already mounted and vibrating, eager to tackle the long road home, and Deon tells them to carry on, he's staying to help me.

Keith gives this some consideration. The next moment I'm gently shoved aside as Hooligent is once more tipped onto his centre stand and his back wheel removed without ceremony by a group of guys eager to get back on the road. When the tyre comes off the rim, it pisses yellow goo: the tube's valve had torn loose, and the goo had spread throughout the tyre. Thank goodness I didn't decide to trust the goo....!! With about 5 tube changes performed in the past 2 days, the guys work fast and methodical, like a well-oiled machine, and in no time the tyre is back on the rim and the rim is back on the bike. However try as they might, they can't get the wheel to seat. No worries, I can do it at the nearest petrol station.

The guys rush to their bikes and roar off in a cacophony of noise and dust, leaving behind a very, VERY grateful biker. Tony and Brian say their good byes and also head off towards the coast, and I finally dish up a bit of breakfast and eat it leisurely, catching my breath. There is still one bike around - a big beautiful 1200 GS and I meet HappyFeet aka Jinx, who farms in the Montagu area. We start chatting and are soon exchanging experiences and numbers, but we both need to leave soonish. Jinx gets going first, and after filling up my water bladder I'm also finally ready to say good bye to Koedoeskloof.

I wave my good byes to Debbie, Eugene and the dogs and head towards Laingsburg. The unseated back wheel is decidedly bumpy but I take it easy, not in a great hurry.

It's the first time that I ride past the Anysberg turn off and head towards Laingsburg, and it is unexpectedly beautiful.

I found this most amusing: If you look closely, you'll notice a sign board saying "Witnekke"

In the other direction lies "Rooinek"

In Laingsburg I pull in at the first petrol station, and a pump attendant fills up the petrol tank, and we then tackle the reseating of the back tyre. He first tries to inflate the tyre as much as possible, but the compressor won't go above 5 Bar. I ask what kind of compressor can't go over 5 Bar and he says gently that most car wheels don't need to be inflated over 3 Bar. Ouch. 5 Bar doesn't cut it though, and I get out my valve tool and unscrew the valve from the tyre. With 5 Bar of pressure inside the tyre, the valve is almost launched into orbit but I manage to grab it before it disappears. With the valve out, the 5 Bar fills the tyre much quicker and two loud pops like gunshots sounds successful seating!! I screw the valve back in, and the tyre is pressurised to a decent 2 Bar. Hooligent is ready for the long, hot road ahead.

I try to buy the pump attendant a cooldrink or something to eat to thank him for his efforts, but he just smiles and waves me away, saying it is a labour of love. Thank you Sir, truly appreciated! I buy myself some naartjie-flavoured water/cooldrink to dump in the water bladder, and while I wait to pay, I overhear the teller telling two young boys at the till that the bundle of brown cents lying on the counter is only enough for a small packet of chips, and doesn't cover the few sweeties they'd hopefully added to the pile. I tell the teller I'll pay for their stuff, and he takes their money while they duck out quick as a flash, in case I change my mind. I laugh and pay my bill. The teller asks me whether I'm a doctor and I tell him "no", confused as to why he wouldn't even think that. Maybe the white-grey mesh biker jacket?

 

[Ri]

With the pleasant taste of diluted naartjie in my mouth, I hop onto HooliGent and head out onto the hot tarmac, determined to find gravel that heads in the direction I want to go, and quickly as possible. The trucks crowd the N1 and I want to get off it. Not too far outside Laingsburg I find a good contender:

Glorious gravel as far as the eye can see

Too soon, it feels, I reach the outskirts of Merweville, where I hope to find a cold drink of some sort on this late Sunday afternoon.

It is 14:00 now. The Goedkoper, where I hoped the lady I met in May could help me, is closed up and sports a "For sale" sign. Undecided whether to carry on, I notice movement down the road and ride to the "Boekklub" to find out whether they are open. A lady meets me at the gate and tells me they're closed, but depending on what I want they could possibly help me. I tell her all I want is an alcohol free beer, and she opens the gate to let me paddle in. I gratefully take a seat on the stoep and remove some of my hot gear while the lady bustles to fetch my beer. Ah, heaven on a hot Sunday.

I slowly sip my beer and send messages to let my people know where I am, and take the opportunity for a comfort break. I also get a pitcher of cold water to fill my water bladder up again. One thing I've learnt on these trips, especially the hot ones: HYDRATE! It is imperative to stay hydrated, even more than eating. When I finally push HooliGent out the gate and close it behind me, a big Ford Ranger pulls up containing two young people. They are looking for a place to have coffee, but I tell them this place is closed, and I doubt anything will be open at 15:00 on a small dorpie.

The couple are travelling from Sutherland to Prince Albert via gravel roads, taking in the sights, and the young man driving the bakkie looks at my bike with open envy. He reckons the bike is much more fun than his big airconditioned bakkie and standing under the stinging sun, sweating gently in my mesh jacket, I eagerly agree. I wouldn't trade places with him for all the aircon in the world.

We wave our good byes and I head in the wrong direction, ending up at Springbok Lodge again. Kallie, the proprieter, strides out the door firmly announcing his name and I tell him yes, I know who you are, I stayed with you in May. He looks uncertain, and then his brow clears when he remembers me, and he asks whether I'm family of the Van Wyks. I tell him I am. He gives me directions to get onto the Fraserburg road, and soon I head out of town towards the last tar of my journey: the road from Leeu Gamka to Fraserburg. When I reach it, I consider for a moment crossing the intersection and riding up through Oukloof Pass, but it is late in the day, it is hot and I'm tired. I turn the bike to the left and the beautiful Theekloof Pass.

Too soon, I reach my favourite gravel road of all again: the road to the farm house. My ride is over, and tomorrow I am caged again.

As I pull away for the last stretch, a rabbit speeds across my path, flat-eared. I get on the pegs and race to the house as fast as I dare in the beautiful golden hour, wind rushing around me as the back tyre lightly skids and jumps over the little humps.

 

[SabreF86]

Sjoe, lekker lees verslag en foto's. Hartlike dank !

 

[Ri]

Sjoe, lekker lees verslag en foto's. Hartlike dank !

Groot plesier :thumleft:

Nogal skrikwekkend om te sien hoe droog die hele omgewing is, veral rondom Merweville waar daar al 7 jaar lank droogte is, maar daar het nou die afgelope naweek wonderlike klomp reën geval oor die Karoo, insluitende Merweville en Fraserburg.

 

[TVB]

Dankie vir die deel Ri, awesomeness!!

 

[Vaufi]

Hey, Ri, where's your trip report for 2022 ??
It's always a joy to read your stories