Fransw
Race Dog
isiTututu said:When I saw the branding on that Longranger, I was more than a little worried....
Glad you're OK!
How was the chopper ride? And how long?
Good luck with that ankle, be patient......
Lekker RR!! O0
Travels through God’s own motorcycle country
- Thread starter MaxThePanda
- Start date
Glad you're OK!
How was the chopper ride? And how long?
Good luck with that ankle, be patient......
Lekker RR!! O0
aka.Goliath
Race Dog
Were you wearing Sidi Crossfire boots? It looks like it from the pictures, I wonder if it could have been worse if you had a 'softer' boot on.
isiTututu
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Fransw said:isiTututu said:When I saw the branding on that Longranger, I was more than a little worried....
Glad you're OK!
How was the chopper ride? And how long?
Good luck with that ankle, be patient......
Lekker RR!! O0
Thanks Frans - it was about a 3.5 hr flight including a refueling stop, so a 7 hr round trip! Thank goodness for medical insurance. The flight was nice and low, so great from a scenic point of view, but being strapped to a hard board for that length of time is not to be recommended.
isiTututu
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aka.Goliath said:
Yes, they're Sidi Crossfires, and I reckon things would have been much more messy with lesser boots. That said, most of the damage was as a result of twisting, which no boot would have prevented.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
Day 9: Back on the road! Destination City of Puros
We went to sleep with a thick blanket of trepidation hanging heavy over the camp. Well most of us did - not the Night Mechanic. He was in a lonely race against time to get his machine working. If he couldn’t, he’d be abandoning it to fate and the gods, and leaving it at Marble.
We had no idea how things were going to play out in this regard. Our vehicle was sitting over 1000km further south, and I didn’t have time or inclination to spend another 2 days at the end of our trip driving around utterly remote parts of Namibia, fetching broken machines. Another plan would have to be made.
While disaster had been sitting on our backs like a mangy crow, pecking at our bare skin and waiting for us to turn to carrion, the flamingoes of peace, love and happiness also appeared to be circling.
Through an extraordinary stroke of incredible fortune, we had met an unlikely pair of septuagenarians travelling the countryside without a GPS, who just ‘happened’ to find us when we needed them most, and took care of our wounded soldier. Were they even human? Or were they benevolent djinns, cast into the desert to watch over a bunch of hapless travellers? To late to test the theory - they were gone.
Now there was another story playing out in the background. My good mate Andrew was busy engaged in mortal combat in the sand and dust with 19 other motorcyclists for the grand trophy of a brand new Africa Twin! Enter the merry band of the Honda Quest 2017… a large flotilla of vehicles and motorcycles chasing hard in our wake around the Nambian countryside, led by a fearless and heroic Kaptein Hardy de Kock!
Hardy had already been extremely generous with his time and energy, spending many hours sharing routes, information and recounting tales about his beloved Kaokoveld. And, don’t get me wrong, the Quest sounded like a sensational event. But it just so happened that their dates coincided almost exactly with ours, and they would pass through many of the same waypoints along the route, even if we were charting a bit more of a wayward course.
As much as we love motorcycles, this trip was all about solitude, freedom and wilderness for us, and the thought of being consumed into a 40-vehicle moving flotilla wasn’t quite our buzz. So we had gone to great pains to try and stay a couple days ahead of them. This included changing our flights and moving departure a day earlier, and definitely influenced the idea to skip out Epupa to save some time.
But now these hounds at our back had become fluffy St Bernards carrying life-sustaining barrels of whisky into the thick, snowy darkness. They would be our salvation… or would they?
The last thing Hardy said to me when we finished chatting was “take my sat phone number in case you need some help out there.” I never did, mostly because we didn’t have a sat phone, but with a stranded bike in the middle of nowhere I suddenly hoped Batman de Kock might be able to swoop in and rescue us.
By morning, Mike had come right with his bike, or thought he had. He’d discovered the throttle body rubbers weren’t sealing properly and the motor was sucking air, which no doubt went at least some way to explaining the troubled motor. I think he’d barely slept, and that may explain the wild look in his eyes the next morning, but after a triumphant test ride he declared the bike 100% sorted.
I whooped and cheered with the rest of them, but if I must be completely honest I had my doubts. It had been so bad the previous night, what are the chances?
Anyway, I wheeled Gav’s stricken machine into the Marble reception, wrote out a pleading and desperate letter begging for help from Hardy, sprinkled some holy water over my left shoulder and departed.
We’d hardly left camp, when Camel announced that his fuel hoses were squirting a strange milky fluid out and were rotten to the core, and he was returning to rob Gav’s 690 of all its fuel hoses.
“God, I hope you know what you’re doing!” I thought. “If your bike gives up the ghost in a few kilometres we have nothing to fall back on, and we’re all destination ******.”
Fuel hoses stolen, and bike declared fit and ready, we departed Onjuva a second time, and almost immediately entered this incredible red plain stretching as far as the eye could see.
I rode into the middle and took off my helmet. Silent and peaceful. Just what I needed to clear my head and take a deep breath. We were starting phase two of our trip. 1 man down, 1 bike down, a few limping soldiers, but all still to play for. Here we go…!
The red earth turned to brown, and the riding was still magnificent.
After a while I realised I couldn’t see Mike and Midge behind, and stopped up to wait for them. They didn’t come, and didn’t come, and didn’t come. What now! I turned and started to ride back slowly…
5km back or so I find them stopped in the track, fishing mangled pieces of sleeping bag out of the back wheel. The crows were battering the flamingoes senseless: Camel’s bedroll had come loose and fallen into his back wheel at 70kph, locking it instantly. He nearly came off, and skidded to a halt thinking his engine had seized due to dust intake. Not so, luckily, but he didn’t get off scott free, either. Tent, mattress and sleeping bag were all mangled. We hadn’t even done 20km.
Nobody really spoke - I think we were all a bit spooked - so it was back on the machines and continue. We entered the Khumib River trail - about 70km up a broken river bed - and the riding went from great to sublime.
After half an hour or so I found Tom stopped under a tree.
“Clutch gone, mate. Oh, and my radiator is pissing water!”
The bobble that had been soldered on the end of the frayed cable had partly come off, and the cable had pulled through the lever. We bodged it back in as best we could, and I told Tom he better practice riding without a clutch. The radiator was another matter. We weren’t exactly overflowing with spare water, but we couldn’t find the leak - it was coming from inside the fins somewhere - great.
Another half hour and Camel lost it in the stones and had a nasty off, hurting his wrist quite badly and mangling his brake pedal. It really wasn’t his day!
We went to sleep with a thick blanket of trepidation hanging heavy over the camp. Well most of us did - not the Night Mechanic. He was in a lonely race against time to get his machine working. If he couldn’t, he’d be abandoning it to fate and the gods, and leaving it at Marble.
We had no idea how things were going to play out in this regard. Our vehicle was sitting over 1000km further south, and I didn’t have time or inclination to spend another 2 days at the end of our trip driving around utterly remote parts of Namibia, fetching broken machines. Another plan would have to be made.
While disaster had been sitting on our backs like a mangy crow, pecking at our bare skin and waiting for us to turn to carrion, the flamingoes of peace, love and happiness also appeared to be circling.
Through an extraordinary stroke of incredible fortune, we had met an unlikely pair of septuagenarians travelling the countryside without a GPS, who just ‘happened’ to find us when we needed them most, and took care of our wounded soldier. Were they even human? Or were they benevolent djinns, cast into the desert to watch over a bunch of hapless travellers? To late to test the theory - they were gone.
Now there was another story playing out in the background. My good mate Andrew was busy engaged in mortal combat in the sand and dust with 19 other motorcyclists for the grand trophy of a brand new Africa Twin! Enter the merry band of the Honda Quest 2017… a large flotilla of vehicles and motorcycles chasing hard in our wake around the Nambian countryside, led by a fearless and heroic Kaptein Hardy de Kock!
Hardy had already been extremely generous with his time and energy, spending many hours sharing routes, information and recounting tales about his beloved Kaokoveld. And, don’t get me wrong, the Quest sounded like a sensational event. But it just so happened that their dates coincided almost exactly with ours, and they would pass through many of the same waypoints along the route, even if we were charting a bit more of a wayward course.
As much as we love motorcycles, this trip was all about solitude, freedom and wilderness for us, and the thought of being consumed into a 40-vehicle moving flotilla wasn’t quite our buzz. So we had gone to great pains to try and stay a couple days ahead of them. This included changing our flights and moving departure a day earlier, and definitely influenced the idea to skip out Epupa to save some time.
But now these hounds at our back had become fluffy St Bernards carrying life-sustaining barrels of whisky into the thick, snowy darkness. They would be our salvation… or would they?
The last thing Hardy said to me when we finished chatting was “take my sat phone number in case you need some help out there.” I never did, mostly because we didn’t have a sat phone, but with a stranded bike in the middle of nowhere I suddenly hoped Batman de Kock might be able to swoop in and rescue us.
By morning, Mike had come right with his bike, or thought he had. He’d discovered the throttle body rubbers weren’t sealing properly and the motor was sucking air, which no doubt went at least some way to explaining the troubled motor. I think he’d barely slept, and that may explain the wild look in his eyes the next morning, but after a triumphant test ride he declared the bike 100% sorted.
I whooped and cheered with the rest of them, but if I must be completely honest I had my doubts. It had been so bad the previous night, what are the chances?
Anyway, I wheeled Gav’s stricken machine into the Marble reception, wrote out a pleading and desperate letter begging for help from Hardy, sprinkled some holy water over my left shoulder and departed.
We’d hardly left camp, when Camel announced that his fuel hoses were squirting a strange milky fluid out and were rotten to the core, and he was returning to rob Gav’s 690 of all its fuel hoses.
“God, I hope you know what you’re doing!” I thought. “If your bike gives up the ghost in a few kilometres we have nothing to fall back on, and we’re all destination ******.”
Fuel hoses stolen, and bike declared fit and ready, we departed Onjuva a second time, and almost immediately entered this incredible red plain stretching as far as the eye could see.
I rode into the middle and took off my helmet. Silent and peaceful. Just what I needed to clear my head and take a deep breath. We were starting phase two of our trip. 1 man down, 1 bike down, a few limping soldiers, but all still to play for. Here we go…!
The red earth turned to brown, and the riding was still magnificent.
After a while I realised I couldn’t see Mike and Midge behind, and stopped up to wait for them. They didn’t come, and didn’t come, and didn’t come. What now! I turned and started to ride back slowly…
5km back or so I find them stopped in the track, fishing mangled pieces of sleeping bag out of the back wheel. The crows were battering the flamingoes senseless: Camel’s bedroll had come loose and fallen into his back wheel at 70kph, locking it instantly. He nearly came off, and skidded to a halt thinking his engine had seized due to dust intake. Not so, luckily, but he didn’t get off scott free, either. Tent, mattress and sleeping bag were all mangled. We hadn’t even done 20km.
Nobody really spoke - I think we were all a bit spooked - so it was back on the machines and continue. We entered the Khumib River trail - about 70km up a broken river bed - and the riding went from great to sublime.
After half an hour or so I found Tom stopped under a tree.
“Clutch gone, mate. Oh, and my radiator is pissing water!”
The bobble that had been soldered on the end of the frayed cable had partly come off, and the cable had pulled through the lever. We bodged it back in as best we could, and I told Tom he better practice riding without a clutch. The radiator was another matter. We weren’t exactly overflowing with spare water, but we couldn’t find the leak - it was coming from inside the fins somewhere - great.
Another half hour and Camel lost it in the stones and had a nasty off, hurting his wrist quite badly and mangling his brake pedal. It really wasn’t his day!
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
Hardy had warned us off the Hoarusib River - one of three riverbeds he said were particularly dangerous on a bike because of poor visibility and prevalent lion and elephant. In retrospect I’m glad we didn’t take that route to Puros - with how our day was going we’d definitely have been attacked, and the views and terrain approaching from the other angle were magnificent. But I’d still like to ride it - it looks the bizznizz.
We hadn’t even met up with the D3707 yet, and Midge ran out of gas. Buttercup is a sensationally reliable beast, immune even to the abuse and neglect thrown at her by her rider (short man complex) but even she throws a hissy fit sometimes. And now she was refusing to suck fuel through her reserve tap.
Luckily, with his new 28l Safari tank Tom had fuel to spare, and we offloaded into the hapless DR.
More riverbeds followed, and there were animals all over the place:
We saw more giraffe than anything on this trip, but I’m pretty sure that’s down to them being hard to miss - even from a motorcycle.
The riverbed terrain got more and more interesting, punctuated by regular stops to check and refill the Suzie’s radiator.
Eventually we got to the end of the riverbed, and exited onto a stony plain.
We crossed the D3707, and turned onto the corrugated road heading to Puros. Spectacular scenery on all sides. I was gobsmacked by the sheer variety and scope of the terrain. You don’t think of desert as being changeable, but this day had a bit of everything.
Spirits were high as Puros appeared in the distance. An ATM to replenish our cash supplies, a garage to fill up with gas and hopefully get some radiator sealant for Tom, and a supermarket to get supplies for the next few legs. I thought perhaps we could have a few beers with the tourists, and hob nob with the Safari types who would no doubt be crawling around the place, planning their next adventure into the hinterland.
Clearly I had not done my research. This is all the action you’ll find in Puros:
What Puros is not, is a bustling metropolis and hub of the western edge of the Namibian safari domain. What it is, is a scrawny collection of tin shacks, two spaza shops and a couple of campsites littered around a broad riverbed crawling with game, including a very active resident elephant population. And that’s it.
I had badly mis-calculated, and the concern set it when we followed the sign to the petrol station to find a disused and collapsed piece of concrete and some broken poles. What now? We were directed to the Okahirongo lodge as the only bastion of civilisation in the place, who would maybe be able to help us.
No, you can’t park your bikes here - they will upset our high paying guests - please hide them down the hill.
No, we don’t keep cash on the premises so we can’t advance you any of that against your credit card.
No, we don’t have fuel to sell you.
No, we don’t have a workshop or radiator sealant.
But I tell you what - you’re welcome to have a drink on our deck - our guests are out for a sunset game drive.
I’m being unkind - the manager was actually quite sweet, and we were by this point filthy dirty, extremely smelly bikers. It’s a beautiful place - just where you’d take your lovely to chill in the lap of luxury and drink G&Ts overlooking the elephants. We had a quick drink, sitting uncomfortably on the linen chairs, and left.
By this stage he’d warmed to us, and offered to get a guide to lead us to the lone petrol seller in the village, who may be able to help us. Welcome to the Puros fuel station:
R400 per 20l plastic can, but beggars really can’t be choosers. It looked pretty sketch coming out of those big drums, but it was this or be stranded. We handed over just about our last bank notes and everyone was full at least.
The little man was keeping the children happy, and then we set off in search of some food.
Oh, by the way, Camel’s front tyre had a puncture, to round off a truly spectacularly poor day for the young man. So we parked up in front of the spaza shop, bought some biscuits and beer and set about changing the tube. Twice, as it turned out.
It was pitch dark by the time we finished. I guided us to the Puros community campsite about five or so kilometres away by the GPS, absolutely blind, with my enduro bike headlamp shining somewhat unhelpfully in the air. Puros is litterally crawling with elephant, and lion are never terribly far away in the Hoarusib, so let’s just say we were all wide awake.
Eventually we found the place and got in a very bizarre Twin Peaks-style encounter with a fellow who was encamped there. Tom was convinced he could only be a poacher - he was set up with an incredible range of equipment, was cooking zebra in a potjie-pot, and acting like he ran the place. He insisted we join his campsite but everyone was feeling uncomfortable so we mumbled something incoherently and snuck out to the next site.
“Oh, by the way, don’t walk to the toilet in the middle of the night,” the camp manager told us. “There are elephant everywhere."
We hadn’t even met up with the D3707 yet, and Midge ran out of gas. Buttercup is a sensationally reliable beast, immune even to the abuse and neglect thrown at her by her rider (short man complex) but even she throws a hissy fit sometimes. And now she was refusing to suck fuel through her reserve tap.
Luckily, with his new 28l Safari tank Tom had fuel to spare, and we offloaded into the hapless DR.
More riverbeds followed, and there were animals all over the place:
We saw more giraffe than anything on this trip, but I’m pretty sure that’s down to them being hard to miss - even from a motorcycle.
The riverbed terrain got more and more interesting, punctuated by regular stops to check and refill the Suzie’s radiator.
Eventually we got to the end of the riverbed, and exited onto a stony plain.
We crossed the D3707, and turned onto the corrugated road heading to Puros. Spectacular scenery on all sides. I was gobsmacked by the sheer variety and scope of the terrain. You don’t think of desert as being changeable, but this day had a bit of everything.
Spirits were high as Puros appeared in the distance. An ATM to replenish our cash supplies, a garage to fill up with gas and hopefully get some radiator sealant for Tom, and a supermarket to get supplies for the next few legs. I thought perhaps we could have a few beers with the tourists, and hob nob with the Safari types who would no doubt be crawling around the place, planning their next adventure into the hinterland.
Clearly I had not done my research. This is all the action you’ll find in Puros:
What Puros is not, is a bustling metropolis and hub of the western edge of the Namibian safari domain. What it is, is a scrawny collection of tin shacks, two spaza shops and a couple of campsites littered around a broad riverbed crawling with game, including a very active resident elephant population. And that’s it.
I had badly mis-calculated, and the concern set it when we followed the sign to the petrol station to find a disused and collapsed piece of concrete and some broken poles. What now? We were directed to the Okahirongo lodge as the only bastion of civilisation in the place, who would maybe be able to help us.
No, you can’t park your bikes here - they will upset our high paying guests - please hide them down the hill.
No, we don’t keep cash on the premises so we can’t advance you any of that against your credit card.
No, we don’t have fuel to sell you.
No, we don’t have a workshop or radiator sealant.
But I tell you what - you’re welcome to have a drink on our deck - our guests are out for a sunset game drive.
I’m being unkind - the manager was actually quite sweet, and we were by this point filthy dirty, extremely smelly bikers. It’s a beautiful place - just where you’d take your lovely to chill in the lap of luxury and drink G&Ts overlooking the elephants. We had a quick drink, sitting uncomfortably on the linen chairs, and left.
By this stage he’d warmed to us, and offered to get a guide to lead us to the lone petrol seller in the village, who may be able to help us. Welcome to the Puros fuel station:
R400 per 20l plastic can, but beggars really can’t be choosers. It looked pretty sketch coming out of those big drums, but it was this or be stranded. We handed over just about our last bank notes and everyone was full at least.
The little man was keeping the children happy, and then we set off in search of some food.
Oh, by the way, Camel’s front tyre had a puncture, to round off a truly spectacularly poor day for the young man. So we parked up in front of the spaza shop, bought some biscuits and beer and set about changing the tube. Twice, as it turned out.
It was pitch dark by the time we finished. I guided us to the Puros community campsite about five or so kilometres away by the GPS, absolutely blind, with my enduro bike headlamp shining somewhat unhelpfully in the air. Puros is litterally crawling with elephant, and lion are never terribly far away in the Hoarusib, so let’s just say we were all wide awake.
Eventually we found the place and got in a very bizarre Twin Peaks-style encounter with a fellow who was encamped there. Tom was convinced he could only be a poacher - he was set up with an incredible range of equipment, was cooking zebra in a potjie-pot, and acting like he ran the place. He insisted we join his campsite but everyone was feeling uncomfortable so we mumbled something incoherently and snuck out to the next site.
“Oh, by the way, don’t walk to the toilet in the middle of the night,” the camp manager told us. “There are elephant everywhere."
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
isiTututu said:
Look, all I want to say is that one of these guys is the real deal, and one of them is a washed-up has-been:
It's also a little known fact that a certain member of this trip was also a stunt double for Hugh Laurie on a major Hollywood motion picture shot in these very parts of Namibia. Cut from stone, cast from iron, and all that. Once the initial shock had worn off, he wasn't going to be thrown off kilter by something as irrelevant as a broken leg. He took an aspirin and offered to walk to the chopper. We only carried him to make the pictures look dramatic.
isiTututu
Pack Dog
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Ha, you make-a-me laugh :lol8:
MaxThePanda said:
Hmmm, I have to say I differ on this one. And - if I understand correctly the route Quest guys took, even Hardy did take the party through Huarusib. I agree that the section downstream from Purros (Purros Canyon - which I'm interested to see if you did) is potentially risky, as it gets narrow and you have to navigate sections of dense vegetation with very limited visibility.
But the section upstream from Purros, is a wide valley with very good visibility of potential hazards and enough room to avoid it safely. And you can either ride riverbed (which is wide and very transparent) or ride on the side of the river on very lekker winding double track, where you can see river to one side, but are mostly riding out in the open (with few detours to the river). And as far as I know (and I think Hardy may disagree on this one), there are no lions upstream from Purros. I have ridden it 4 times and always made sure to get the latest cricket intel from the locals. And the message was always clear - no lions north of Purros. I have tendency to believe them as you will often meet locals walking along the river and even kids playing soccer right next to it (and they do respect lions - they have abandoned one village in Huab river due to very high lion danger). Yes there is high probability of bumping into elephant, but your chances to see it coming are much bigger than in Ugab (that is tricky one), Purros canyon, or Huab river - part of which you have already ridden on the way to Sessfontein (if I understood your route correctly).
That upper section of Huarusib is absolutely fantastic (sorry, that horribly corrugated D3707 is no match whatsoever) and the pass between Khumib and Huarusib is also something special to behold. But at least you have something to come back to 8)
Now I'm really curious whether you did the Purros canyon - because that is the really dodgy one (right after Ugab IMO). If I understand it correctly, Quest guys also had to get out of there half way through when they bumped into aggro elephant.
And that luxury lodge in Purros - avoid as a plague! They really like to mix only with people with private jets. There is very friendly and relatively cheap community lodge (right next to the campsite) if you go that side again and do not fancy tenting.
Pilchie
Race Dog
:sip:loving this awesome ride report
zetman
Race Dog
: :ricky: :ricky: :ricky:
Man dis n BEFOKTE lekker Trippie hierdie gooi nog :lamer:atch: :sip:
Man dis n BEFOKTE lekker Trippie hierdie gooi nog :lamer:
atch: :sip:Professor sprocket
Puppy
The night in the community campsite was pretty wild. We’d arrived late and the guy with all the hunting equipment was in high spirits. He was evidently offended that we were not going to pull up by his fire to eat zebra. As we made our excuses he insisted on jumping on the back of the midgets bike - which is pretty normal for the midget but this guy was giving us the heebie jeebies. We camped a little distance away from him and happily cooked our own terrible stew from whatever battered food we had in our saddle bags.
That night I was giving my bike some attention. Quite a rare event for me. If anyone should have taken Gavin’s bike, by this time it was clear it should have been me. By Purros my radiator was needing a refill every 20 mins or so. Each day I was carrying around 15 litres of water on my back and still having to ask the others for some of their water by night time. My carb was leaking fuel badly, too. And my clutch cable needed more Pratley Putty and looked like it was starting to shear again.
Most likely the bust radiator was a product of me going faster than my skill level allowed over rocks, as I tried to avoid using the clutch more than I needed to. Going down into 2nd gear seemed like a luxury I’d probably only be able to enjoy a handful of times so I tried to keep the speed up except on special occasions. Everyone’s comments about the clutch cable spare are spot on. Im going to run a spare one through by the new replacement so its easy to hook up. Though normally thats just the kind of thing I say when Im just about to forget all about it.
At the Purros community camp site I again tried to work out where the radiator leak was coming from – it was too late and too dark to take the tank off, but it looked like it was badly cracked quite high up. What I did have, courtesy of the kindly manager of the Purros luxury camp, was a fresh egg. Not an easy thing to transport – but it was holding up nicely. We’d all heard that if you broke an egg into a leaking radiator it seals it up. Is that true? Seems unbelievable. And even if it works on an old car, will it not mess up the finer cooling channels around a bike engine?
Everyone was egging (!) me on. “Just crack it in”, “Do it Thomas!” They just wanted me to do it for the yarn I reckon. And I have to say, I was keen to give it a go. It would make for a great photo opportunity. But it was a proper leak – a 3 inch arc of crack as it turns out – so I don’t know if it would have helped.
I didn’t use the egg in the end. After a day or so more it broke in my bag which finally removed the temptation. Im glad actually. My bike engine (in case I decide to sell it on this forum) is still in wonderful nick. Honestly.
Ian, got any pictures of my egg?
That night I was giving my bike some attention. Quite a rare event for me. If anyone should have taken Gavin’s bike, by this time it was clear it should have been me. By Purros my radiator was needing a refill every 20 mins or so. Each day I was carrying around 15 litres of water on my back and still having to ask the others for some of their water by night time. My carb was leaking fuel badly, too. And my clutch cable needed more Pratley Putty and looked like it was starting to shear again.
Most likely the bust radiator was a product of me going faster than my skill level allowed over rocks, as I tried to avoid using the clutch more than I needed to. Going down into 2nd gear seemed like a luxury I’d probably only be able to enjoy a handful of times so I tried to keep the speed up except on special occasions. Everyone’s comments about the clutch cable spare are spot on. Im going to run a spare one through by the new replacement so its easy to hook up. Though normally thats just the kind of thing I say when Im just about to forget all about it.
At the Purros community camp site I again tried to work out where the radiator leak was coming from – it was too late and too dark to take the tank off, but it looked like it was badly cracked quite high up. What I did have, courtesy of the kindly manager of the Purros luxury camp, was a fresh egg. Not an easy thing to transport – but it was holding up nicely. We’d all heard that if you broke an egg into a leaking radiator it seals it up. Is that true? Seems unbelievable. And even if it works on an old car, will it not mess up the finer cooling channels around a bike engine?
Everyone was egging (!) me on. “Just crack it in”, “Do it Thomas!” They just wanted me to do it for the yarn I reckon. And I have to say, I was keen to give it a go. It would make for a great photo opportunity. But it was a proper leak – a 3 inch arc of crack as it turns out – so I don’t know if it would have helped.
I didn’t use the egg in the end. After a day or so more it broke in my bag which finally removed the temptation. Im glad actually. My bike engine (in case I decide to sell it on this forum) is still in wonderful nick. Honestly.
Ian, got any pictures of my egg?
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
Professor sprocket said:
How could I not??
For a man who loves to get into trouble, and who'll do just about anything for a good story, I'm still gutted you didn't go for it.
Option 3: https://www.wikihow.com/Seal-a-Leaking-Radiator
Another quick fix for the radiator is,,,,,,,Curry powder, or Tumeric. Pre mix, two table spoons in 500ml of water and pour into the radiator. Run the motor to heat up and thicken the paste then with some praying and luck, the leak will seal.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
Day 10: Onto the Crowther Trail: Puros to Rock Muncher Land
Today was probably the day I was looking forward to most of the whole trip. The plan was to leave at dawn down the Puros Canyon - apparently the early light looks absolutely spectacular filtering off the high rock walls, and there is the best chance of seeing game.
Like most things on this trip, it didn’t exactly work out like that. The Midge had been kept up most of the night by elephant foraging in the bushes next to his tent. And Thomas had been up early trying to Pratley Steel the remains of his clutch cable end into the lever.
Eventually we got moving and it was riding wonderment from kilometre one. Puros sits in a stunning, extremely broad riverbed plain between surrounding mountains. Hanging clouds weren’t exactly what I was hoping for, but it made for an eerily beautiful view from the saddle.
We entered the canyon, and immediately there was lots of standing water and green grass replaced the omnipresent sand.
We stopped for an early breakfast and debated whether to cook Thomas’s egg or save it for his radiator. He was being strangely unadventurous… not like him at all.
Maybe the remoteness had affected even the expat! The canyon is a sight to behold. It twists and turns between rocky sides, in many places the track slipping right past bushy areas that could easily hide a herd of elephant, not to mention a hungry lion hunting party. We were all feeling very awake, that’s for sure! I was leading when we came across this small group of gemsbok.
After a while we came across the iconic narrow slot between rocky outcrops that you’ve seen so often on Puros photos:
Although we hadn’t see elephant, the ride through the canyon had definitely been one of the highlights of many highlights on the trip so far. It’s quite unlike any of the other terrain we came across and a must see on any route through this area!
Eventually the canyon opens up into a vast plain of cracked mud - this must be a massive marsh during the raining season. We stopped to brew some tea, and certain members of the party amused themselves with some Jackie Chan moves.
English’s bike was already slurping down water and a fairly rapid rate, and I caught him staring disconsolately at it - I’m pretty sure he was wondering if he’d be leaving it in the desert at some point.
The mud was extremely dry, but there were swarms of irritating midges pestering us, and our Midge adopted a special new fashion strategy to deal with them.
After 25km in the canyon, we turned south into the gateway to the famous Crowther trail through the Puros Communal Conservancy.
From a green river bed between high rock walls, the trail now transitioned into open desert. Looking at the pictures now, I’m struck by the beauty, but in no way do they capture the sheer majesty of the place. It was literally gobsmacking. We climbed slightly onto a flat mound and stopped to take in the view to a far-distant horizon.
The trail was so open now we were able to make quite rapid progress, which enhanced the perception of the landscape passing almost as if on a TV-shaped hole in the helmet.
Today was probably the day I was looking forward to most of the whole trip. The plan was to leave at dawn down the Puros Canyon - apparently the early light looks absolutely spectacular filtering off the high rock walls, and there is the best chance of seeing game.
Like most things on this trip, it didn’t exactly work out like that. The Midge had been kept up most of the night by elephant foraging in the bushes next to his tent. And Thomas had been up early trying to Pratley Steel the remains of his clutch cable end into the lever.
Eventually we got moving and it was riding wonderment from kilometre one. Puros sits in a stunning, extremely broad riverbed plain between surrounding mountains. Hanging clouds weren’t exactly what I was hoping for, but it made for an eerily beautiful view from the saddle.
We entered the canyon, and immediately there was lots of standing water and green grass replaced the omnipresent sand.
We stopped for an early breakfast and debated whether to cook Thomas’s egg or save it for his radiator. He was being strangely unadventurous… not like him at all.
Maybe the remoteness had affected even the expat! The canyon is a sight to behold. It twists and turns between rocky sides, in many places the track slipping right past bushy areas that could easily hide a herd of elephant, not to mention a hungry lion hunting party. We were all feeling very awake, that’s for sure! I was leading when we came across this small group of gemsbok.
After a while we came across the iconic narrow slot between rocky outcrops that you’ve seen so often on Puros photos:
Although we hadn’t see elephant, the ride through the canyon had definitely been one of the highlights of many highlights on the trip so far. It’s quite unlike any of the other terrain we came across and a must see on any route through this area!
Eventually the canyon opens up into a vast plain of cracked mud - this must be a massive marsh during the raining season. We stopped to brew some tea, and certain members of the party amused themselves with some Jackie Chan moves.
English’s bike was already slurping down water and a fairly rapid rate, and I caught him staring disconsolately at it - I’m pretty sure he was wondering if he’d be leaving it in the desert at some point.
The mud was extremely dry, but there were swarms of irritating midges pestering us, and our Midge adopted a special new fashion strategy to deal with them.
After 25km in the canyon, we turned south into the gateway to the famous Crowther trail through the Puros Communal Conservancy.
From a green river bed between high rock walls, the trail now transitioned into open desert. Looking at the pictures now, I’m struck by the beauty, but in no way do they capture the sheer majesty of the place. It was literally gobsmacking. We climbed slightly onto a flat mound and stopped to take in the view to a far-distant horizon.
The trail was so open now we were able to make quite rapid progress, which enhanced the perception of the landscape passing almost as if on a TV-shaped hole in the helmet.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
I’m running out of hyperbole to describe the place here - it literally was that sublime. We bombed through the desert for about 50km, and then for another 20km slowly descended from the plateau towards the Hoanib river.
It was so mesmerising you didn’t want to race through it, and we took regular breaks in the desert silence just to soak it all in.
All of a sudden those rocky mounds led into the Hoanib river bed - another wide, dramatic Namibian gorgeousness! We dismounted, awe-struck, under one of the gigantic trees and pulled out our staple trail snack - peanuts and raisins.
We couldn’t have been there more than five minutes when a landcruiser appeared down the riverbed - the first humans we’d seen all day. They were super friendly guides from the Wilderness Safari camp - which apparently lay just around the corner.
“You know the elephants are coming this way?” they asked.
“WHAT?! Elephants? Where??”
“Come - we show you.”
In a frenzy of excitement - our first potential sighting of the big mammals other than Midge’s hallucinatory encounter from earlier in the trip - we quickly saddled up and followed them. Bizarrely, that earlier ‘sighting’ - for which he got three days’ kitty ***** immunity… just saying - was also actually in the Hoanib river, much further upstream.
We literally followed the landcruiser for two kilometres when we happened upon this fellow, chewing contentedly on a tree:
We were up on a pretty steep river bank, so after a little flurry of enthusiasm on his part I think he accepted we would just look at each other and leave it there. Within walking distance, there was a view across the open plain towards the lodge, where a large family of elephant, some giraffe and a gemsbok were cruising around.
I only have the equivalent of a 24-70 full-frame lens, so everything was a lot closer than it looks in these pictures. After twenty minutes or so our guides waved goodbye and disappeared into the distance.
We were now approximately half way down the Crowther Trail, and the plan was to make it another 30-40km further and spend the night out. It was lunchtime and extremely hot.
We dropped back down into the Hoanib, passing our friendly elephant bull.
We only did 10km in the Hoanib, but it was again truly spectacular riding. The river bed is huge, wide, and very open, dotted around with absolutely massive trees. I’m pretty sure we were passing loads of elephant but the ground was soft and rutted enough to require a bit of concentration, which makes game spotting difficult.
Tom’s radiator was leaking badly by this point, so we were stopping often, but it didn’t distract from the sheer drama of the surrounds. Turning south out of the Hoanib - I’d love to come back and ride the entire river - we entered another river valley, this time for the Mudorib. There was no water to be seen, but apparently this entire area gets wet a couple of times a year. Game was plentiful, especially giraffe.
Hardy had told me to expect a stony desert landscape, and sure enough it wasn’t long before sand turned to rock and it felt like we were on Mars. Red, red rocks everywhere and absolutely barren, but visually incredibly dramatic. It had been a long day and the group was a bit tired, so we decided to stop early. We turned off the track and rode over a hill.
An uncomfortable but starkly beautiful campsite awaited.
By now our kit had been taking a bit of a hammering…
Time to catch up on the tan and obliterate our entire remaining whiskey stock. Today had been a day of mystical, rainbow celestial pony goodness. How much more wonderment did this place have to offer? If I never rode another day in my life, this stock of memories would last me forever.
It was so mesmerising you didn’t want to race through it, and we took regular breaks in the desert silence just to soak it all in.
All of a sudden those rocky mounds led into the Hoanib river bed - another wide, dramatic Namibian gorgeousness! We dismounted, awe-struck, under one of the gigantic trees and pulled out our staple trail snack - peanuts and raisins.
We couldn’t have been there more than five minutes when a landcruiser appeared down the riverbed - the first humans we’d seen all day. They were super friendly guides from the Wilderness Safari camp - which apparently lay just around the corner.
“You know the elephants are coming this way?” they asked.
“WHAT?! Elephants? Where??”
“Come - we show you.”
In a frenzy of excitement - our first potential sighting of the big mammals other than Midge’s hallucinatory encounter from earlier in the trip - we quickly saddled up and followed them. Bizarrely, that earlier ‘sighting’ - for which he got three days’ kitty ***** immunity… just saying - was also actually in the Hoanib river, much further upstream.
We literally followed the landcruiser for two kilometres when we happened upon this fellow, chewing contentedly on a tree:
We were up on a pretty steep river bank, so after a little flurry of enthusiasm on his part I think he accepted we would just look at each other and leave it there. Within walking distance, there was a view across the open plain towards the lodge, where a large family of elephant, some giraffe and a gemsbok were cruising around.
I only have the equivalent of a 24-70 full-frame lens, so everything was a lot closer than it looks in these pictures. After twenty minutes or so our guides waved goodbye and disappeared into the distance.
We were now approximately half way down the Crowther Trail, and the plan was to make it another 30-40km further and spend the night out. It was lunchtime and extremely hot.
We dropped back down into the Hoanib, passing our friendly elephant bull.
We only did 10km in the Hoanib, but it was again truly spectacular riding. The river bed is huge, wide, and very open, dotted around with absolutely massive trees. I’m pretty sure we were passing loads of elephant but the ground was soft and rutted enough to require a bit of concentration, which makes game spotting difficult.
Tom’s radiator was leaking badly by this point, so we were stopping often, but it didn’t distract from the sheer drama of the surrounds. Turning south out of the Hoanib - I’d love to come back and ride the entire river - we entered another river valley, this time for the Mudorib. There was no water to be seen, but apparently this entire area gets wet a couple of times a year. Game was plentiful, especially giraffe.
Hardy had told me to expect a stony desert landscape, and sure enough it wasn’t long before sand turned to rock and it felt like we were on Mars. Red, red rocks everywhere and absolutely barren, but visually incredibly dramatic. It had been a long day and the group was a bit tired, so we decided to stop early. We turned off the track and rode over a hill.
An uncomfortable but starkly beautiful campsite awaited.
By now our kit had been taking a bit of a hammering…
Time to catch up on the tan and obliterate our entire remaining whiskey stock. Today had been a day of mystical, rainbow celestial pony goodness. How much more wonderment did this place have to offer? If I never rode another day in my life, this stock of memories would last me forever.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
Yup.
Well done on passing Purros canyon without drama - that is one of the high risk sections. :thumleft:
I'm keen to see where you exited Crowther trail and if the guards gave you any hard time. There is a guy permanently stationed at the point where Crowther trail leaves Hoanib and heads south, where you had to pass. I'm guessing you didn't bump into him or he didn't try to stop you, right?
I'm keen to see where you exited Crowther trail and if the guards gave you any hard time. There is a guy permanently stationed at the point where Crowther trail leaves Hoanib and heads south, where you had to pass. I'm guessing you didn't bump into him or he didn't try to stop you, right?
