Transkei – Day 3
Sunrise over the Wildcoast.
The chef at the Kob Inn was very excited to have us around. He was really smitten with Brakenjan’s Zaar (the heathen bastard did not even so much as glance at the BMX) as he himself seems to be a soul lost to the darkside with his choice of the 450 EXC (?) plastic. He had good things to say about the surrounds being an unreal playground, especially with one of those lighter plastic bikes.
He even mentioned us in the Kob Inn Daily:
In a matter of two days, Transkei had become my new favourite place in (South) Africa. Ok ok – it now ranks alongside the Rictersveld.
The plan today was the same as each of the previous days before: Have a huge breakfast, ride some cool tracks, then have a steak, wash it off with some colds zamas and go to bed.
First we rode up to the hill behind the Kob Inn and checked out the mighty Qora river. Bjiirefull.
And then we followed the GPS tracks through the peaceful countryside again. Being midweek in August the place was really quiet. Which I liked. Riding yet again up and down these gravel roads in this magical land, full of people but yet (still) deserted by modern civilization, thinking back now, the chorus from that nice Coldplay song,
Speed of Sound, somehow seems appropriate when imagining myself being back on the X, cruising roads like these:
All that noise, and all that sound,
All those places I got found.
And birds go flying at the speed of sound,
to show you how it all began.
Birds came flying from the underground,
if you could see it then you'd understand,
ah when you see it then you'll understand?
Ok. Maybe it is not
that appropriate, but it still is a lekka song.
Today’s fun and games were planned in the form of a relative obscure little track which had us crossing the Shixini river. My tracks led us here.
T4A makes it look like this
Once again T4A had it completely wrong, as the little track that they indicated was actually running on top of the hill to the south and not where we were told to ride by that self confessed Buddhist guru of common sense, Mr G. Armin.
Anyhow, this made it all the more fun. Down again and crossing a small mudpool
I couldn’t help but smile when Brakenjan was shouting with pure joy from under his helmet while punching the air. One can’t really describe the moment, but just take it from me: It was so unbelievingly cool just to be in that spot, with no one around and a stunning path to ride. It certainly wasn’t difficult riding. But it was, to call it in plain French: BEF*K!
I initially thought that the little mud stream that we had just crossed was in fact the Shixini river, but soon realised it was not when we rode around the next hill and saw the actual river
Now knowing what the crossing was like and unsure whether there is in fact a road to follow,
I decided to park the bike and went off on foot patrol with my knife clenched between my teeth.
The recce was a good thing, as I, after waking up Captain Slow, could report back that we only have two easy peasy river crossings to deal with.
First this little dry sideshow
and then the main Shixini river which I thought should take us not more than a minute or so each to get across.
I was wrong in respect of yours truly, but spot-on in respect of Brakenjan, as he did it correctly. I tried to duck walk / push etc make my way through, and eventually managed to do so with the help from my wingman, but it took much longer than it should.
Brakenjan just gunned it through without any troubles.
Perhaps its because he had the correct (softer) tyre pressure or because he had the lighter bike or maybe I just wanted to let him feel good
.
Or could it be due to that rest he had while I cleared the area from suicide bombers, terrorists and other Dr Evil like creatures?
Anyhow - I at least enjoyed the scenery, took some pictures and did not just pass through like those onbeskofte Valies do.
Looking back at the place that is marked “Shixini Riverbed crossing” on T4A.
From the hill on the other side overlooking the valley, the T4A error can perhaps be more clearly explained:
The actual route that we should have used (and that should have been indicated on T4A) is clearly visible down the hill, to the LEFT of the green stream in the middle of that valley. We on the other hand, using the exact T4A track, struggled down the hill on the RIGHT hand side, where the place was overgrown and clearly not used.
At this point I should maybe mention that I also used Slingsby’s Wild Coast Map (www.themaps.co.za) which was good to get the bigger picture. Only issue is that its scale does not always really help, especially if you need to navigate on little tracks like the aforementioned.
Anyhow – the vistas once again were pleasing on the eye. Pity our cameras were not as good as Dustdevil or Michiel’s
ZAMA time!
Those Transkei Zama’s sure are strong – check out these sexy chicks at the bottom of the Mbashe river.
Brakenjan could just not stop staring.
And neither could these little guys. I think they were bemoerd because B was checking out their mothers.
After I eventually managed to tear Brakenjan away from that bridge, we followed some more roads to the Cwebe Nature Reserve, an establishment run by the Eastern Cape Parks Board. Ten ront and we were in.
Here we made the mistake not to listen to our Zama-mometer and to follow the road a kilometer or so further to retire for the day at the aptly named hotel, the Haven.
No, wise ass mofos that we are, we decided to keep going and head on to Bulungula Lodge as word had it that this is apparently a nice place to stay.
Here we were crossing some rivulet in the Cwebe nature Reserve. I know I have said it before, but once again - this place is awesome!
We passed through the Cwebe reserve and the riding of course was just magical again. Up and down, past villages, friendly kids running out to wave to you, unfriendly little f*ckers giving you the zap sign and throwing imaginary punches (every now and then I would make a big show of stopping after getting zapped and then had to chuckle every time as the little party dispersed more effectively than what the old SAP’s onlustebeheer could ever achieve in the 80's.
The road lead us down to the Xhora river,
where we met these little guys.
Unfortunately I only had some winegums in my tankbag, but judging by the picture they did seem to have liked the red ones.
Just after crossing this dry riverbed, we encountered a fairly steep uphill.
Transkei = 2
International grensvegter man of mystery = 0.
Yet again.
I did not have my goggles on when attempting that uphill and got bashed in the eye and on the arm by some branches, right at a spot where you had to lift the front wheel to get past. Which I didn’t do cause I couldn’t see. So down I went.
Looked back and saw Brakenjan coming up but showed him to stop as he wouldn’t have managed to get past me, and that was too much for him too, so down he went as well.
Mu wha ha ha.
Fortunately only a bent handlebar and lame left leg later (on team oo7’s side) , we continued up the hill and
eventually then got to this spot, overlooking the Bulungula River.
Bulungula Lodge is not even on the version of T4A that I have (10.05.01) and Slingsby’s indicate the lodge to be on the south side of the river mouth. For some unknown reason (remember – those Transkei Zama’s are strong) I thought the lodge was on the NORTH side. And continued to lead the expedition in that way.
Arriving on the other side I realised I was lost, as I could not even work out,
with the frieken GPS, exactly where we were. I then realised that Bulungula was actually on the other side, but there was no way we were going back.
It was getting late (way past little boys like us’ bedtime) so we had a quick conference and decided to head for Coffee Bay, the really easy way. Even though this meant that we were going to ride for an hour or so in the dark. But so be it.
Watching the sun set with dread as the one thing that you shouldn’t do is ride in the Transkei during night.
Anyhow, from here on it was a case of
“Menu”
“Menu”
“Find”
“Cities”
“Coffee Bay”
“Go to” and
“Faster Time” (Those with a GPSMap 76C will probably understand)
We found the Coffee Bay tarred road and slabbed it ‘home’, all the way to the White Clay Lodge, where we arrived as two highly strung individuals after bracing the people, animals and pot holes in the Transkei darkness.
