Osadabwa
Race Dog
Awesome!
Travels through God’s own motorcycle country
- Thread starter MaxThePanda
- Start date
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- Feb 6, 2006
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- Cape Town, deep in the lentils
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- KTM 990 Adventure
Listen China, though you've been good recently, you'd better not abandon this tale halfway through like you've done before. I know where you live. I know where you work. Don't let me have to come over and have The Chat.
- Joined
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- Location
- Stellenbosch
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- KTM 690 Adventure
Waar is julle dan nou?
- Joined
- Sep 13, 2010
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- Location
- I would rather be in Great Brak...
- Bike
- Honda CRF-1000L Africa Twin
Oi!
aka.Goliath
Race Dog
Lets go...
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
All right, all right, all right. Indulge me a little while I wait for my companions under this here shady tree…
Even if I reach back into the dark recesses of memory it’s a little hard to explain exactly why motorcycles in general, and motorcycle trips into the wilderness in particular, have become such an important part of my life in recent years. Yes, I grew up loving machines and engines and things. Yes, I like travelling and hanging with my buddies. Yes, I love the African wilderness. Yes I like the physical challenge and camping out under the stars. But none of this quite explains why these things have grown an almost mythical allure in my consciousness. Or why I look forward to them like a five-year-old dreams of Christmas, and after the fact reminisce about them like a bedridden old geezer without teeth dreaming of his first kiss.
Heading out into the wild yonder on these mechanical ponies strikes some chord deep inside what it means to be a man (sorry ladies)… embracing the unknown, feeling, for a moment, the wind of freedom, uncertainty and limitless promise on your skin, alive to the present in a way that little else in normal life provokes.
Big motorcycle trips are often brutal. We plan them meticulously, and then they always seem to come at the wrong time. They rip us away from responsibility, make us lose out on work contracts, force us to abandon families when they are squealing for our attention, cost much more than they are ever supposed to, break our bikes and sometimes our bodies, make us confront less appealing sides of ourselves. But they do also have some downsides.
Like many of you, I guess, we’ve gathered a bit of a tight crew. Tom and I bought bikes ten years ago, and have done almost all of our trips together. My brother Mike was pretty much responsible for getting me into this in the beginning. Every court needs a jester, so, The Midget. And this time The Gav would be joining us for the first time. Just to ‘break’ things up a bit.
The last big trip we did was four years ago. Four what!!!?? What on earth has happened to my life? It’s had its merry way with us. Marriage, babies, homes, careers. So clichéd I’d like to vommit, but it’s true. As lovely as an annual little jaunt around the Richtersveld is, it’s pretty familiar territory now, and just doesn’t cut it as a Big Adventure. And a Big Adventure was what we all urgently needed!
All the available options came up for consideration. Mongolia’s too far and better on horses. Columbia would be awesome but we’d lose the Midget for certain and we’re all scared of Mrs Midget. Crossing the Sahara is a long held dream, but we’d likely get abducted by Jihadists. The Midge is also terrified of camels. And none of these places have elephants.
Elephants. The more you stare at them, the odder they are. Even compared to giraffes, and those are extremely strange animals.
North west Namibia it was. On our doorstep, but home of the most dramatic motorcycle riding terrain on the planet. It’s wild, it’s hot, it’s dry, it’s sandy, it’s dangerous. What more can a man ask for?
And so the slobbering excitement started. Since my last Amageza attempt I haven’t had a bike that could take on any kind of adventure, because I sold my 450 to get into enduro riding. This is a pretty sick state of affairs, and needed remedying so I bought this:
2013 KTM 500. Feast upon her magnificence. The perfect adventure desert sled. Nothing even comes close.
The new boy didn’t have a bike either, so signing up was always going to be a big leap for him. He’d had a pristine 2012 990R since new, but although he’s done a shitload of adventure riding over the years, he’s a little new to the offroad scene, and wisely decided the R was going to be a bit of a handful.
We umm’d and aaahhh’d, perved the options and went for some test rides together. A new 701 nearly made the cut but there was a little curfuffle with the dealer and that fell off the radar. A new Honda 250 rally was next, but as nice as it is, the engine was considered not manly enough and it was struck down.
And then a well equipped 2013 690R popped up and the deal was sealed and it arrived in Cape Town on a trailer.
If you’ve spent any time wading your way through this thread https://wilddog.net.za/forum/index.php?topic=133427.0 you may have noticed that The Englishman is not exactly partial to KTMs. Well, he’s now a dedicated Suzie man, and after the trauma of 2013 decided that he’d do a little thorough preparation this time. So Suzie got shown some real love: a new 28l Safari tank, serviced suspension, several trips to Claus the mechanic.
And that’s before we even discuss her owner. After a stead diet of squat thrusts, he was now in scintillating form!
Camel Man’s motor was already in stunning shape, so he busied himself with how to take water to the desert”
And the Little Fella kissed his mount once, kissed her twice and was assured she would take him to heaven and back without a hitch:
But Buttercup was feeling a little hard done by, so he splurged on an expensive accessory:
and then busied himself with wardrobe:
and strategy for dealing with wild animals:
Did I mention that by now we were in a frenzy of excitement laced with mortal dread about face eating hyenas and their ilk invading our campsites: https://wilddog.net.za/forum/index.php?topic=211797.msg3862568#msg3862568
It was all about to begin.
Even if I reach back into the dark recesses of memory it’s a little hard to explain exactly why motorcycles in general, and motorcycle trips into the wilderness in particular, have become such an important part of my life in recent years. Yes, I grew up loving machines and engines and things. Yes, I like travelling and hanging with my buddies. Yes, I love the African wilderness. Yes I like the physical challenge and camping out under the stars. But none of this quite explains why these things have grown an almost mythical allure in my consciousness. Or why I look forward to them like a five-year-old dreams of Christmas, and after the fact reminisce about them like a bedridden old geezer without teeth dreaming of his first kiss.
Heading out into the wild yonder on these mechanical ponies strikes some chord deep inside what it means to be a man (sorry ladies)… embracing the unknown, feeling, for a moment, the wind of freedom, uncertainty and limitless promise on your skin, alive to the present in a way that little else in normal life provokes.
Big motorcycle trips are often brutal. We plan them meticulously, and then they always seem to come at the wrong time. They rip us away from responsibility, make us lose out on work contracts, force us to abandon families when they are squealing for our attention, cost much more than they are ever supposed to, break our bikes and sometimes our bodies, make us confront less appealing sides of ourselves. But they do also have some downsides.
Like many of you, I guess, we’ve gathered a bit of a tight crew. Tom and I bought bikes ten years ago, and have done almost all of our trips together. My brother Mike was pretty much responsible for getting me into this in the beginning. Every court needs a jester, so, The Midget. And this time The Gav would be joining us for the first time. Just to ‘break’ things up a bit.
The last big trip we did was four years ago. Four what!!!?? What on earth has happened to my life? It’s had its merry way with us. Marriage, babies, homes, careers. So clichéd I’d like to vommit, but it’s true. As lovely as an annual little jaunt around the Richtersveld is, it’s pretty familiar territory now, and just doesn’t cut it as a Big Adventure. And a Big Adventure was what we all urgently needed!
All the available options came up for consideration. Mongolia’s too far and better on horses. Columbia would be awesome but we’d lose the Midget for certain and we’re all scared of Mrs Midget. Crossing the Sahara is a long held dream, but we’d likely get abducted by Jihadists. The Midge is also terrified of camels. And none of these places have elephants.
Elephants. The more you stare at them, the odder they are. Even compared to giraffes, and those are extremely strange animals.
North west Namibia it was. On our doorstep, but home of the most dramatic motorcycle riding terrain on the planet. It’s wild, it’s hot, it’s dry, it’s sandy, it’s dangerous. What more can a man ask for?
And so the slobbering excitement started. Since my last Amageza attempt I haven’t had a bike that could take on any kind of adventure, because I sold my 450 to get into enduro riding. This is a pretty sick state of affairs, and needed remedying so I bought this:
2013 KTM 500. Feast upon her magnificence. The perfect adventure desert sled. Nothing even comes close.
The new boy didn’t have a bike either, so signing up was always going to be a big leap for him. He’d had a pristine 2012 990R since new, but although he’s done a shitload of adventure riding over the years, he’s a little new to the offroad scene, and wisely decided the R was going to be a bit of a handful.
We umm’d and aaahhh’d, perved the options and went for some test rides together. A new 701 nearly made the cut but there was a little curfuffle with the dealer and that fell off the radar. A new Honda 250 rally was next, but as nice as it is, the engine was considered not manly enough and it was struck down.
And then a well equipped 2013 690R popped up and the deal was sealed and it arrived in Cape Town on a trailer.
If you’ve spent any time wading your way through this thread https://wilddog.net.za/forum/index.php?topic=133427.0 you may have noticed that The Englishman is not exactly partial to KTMs. Well, he’s now a dedicated Suzie man, and after the trauma of 2013 decided that he’d do a little thorough preparation this time. So Suzie got shown some real love: a new 28l Safari tank, serviced suspension, several trips to Claus the mechanic.
And that’s before we even discuss her owner. After a stead diet of squat thrusts, he was now in scintillating form!
Camel Man’s motor was already in stunning shape, so he busied himself with how to take water to the desert”
And the Little Fella kissed his mount once, kissed her twice and was assured she would take him to heaven and back without a hitch:
But Buttercup was feeling a little hard done by, so he splurged on an expensive accessory:
and then busied himself with wardrobe:
and strategy for dealing with wild animals:
Did I mention that by now we were in a frenzy of excitement laced with mortal dread about face eating hyenas and their ilk invading our campsites: https://wilddog.net.za/forum/index.php?topic=211797.msg3862568#msg3862568
It was all about to begin.
zetman
Race Dog
:ricky: :ricky: :ricky: :ricky: :ricky: :ricky: :ricky: BEFOK :spitcoffee: :spitcoffee: :spitcoffee:
Professor sprocket
Puppy
Last trip I made with these gents - which was somewhere like up the West Coast and Richtersveld or something I was totally undone by that bloody sand. Its demoralising not being able to get on top of sand on a long sand trip when your mates are flying along and having to wait. So I spent months doing exercise, visualising what happens when the lion comes and Im the slowest in the sprint. With the arrival of my new baby boy, Im full of girlie hormones that make me want to really stay alive. And I got my trusty DRZ all geared up - so I thought - more on that anon. And then I went down to Atlantis a few times with Ian and had a session at Zone 7 with coach Dean. They got me finally loving sand. What a difference that is hey? A light went on and Im all vroom vroom on the soft stuff. Kind of.
Our plan was to take the bikes up with a van and trailer. Two of us driving up, two of us driving back, and one of the five getting lucky and flying both ways. Anyway, that was the plan. It didnt totally work out, as you'll hear. The midget and I got lucky as we pulled straws from the bike helmet, and we got the drive up and flight back option. I was thinking that, as with the Angola trip 4 years previously, it was likely that my bike would die after the first day or two and then I’d be at least able to fly home. And in the unlikely event I finished the trip I wouldn’t have to fly home knackered.
The double cab, when we left, was a solid mass of biking gear and camping stuff. Ian didn’t even pack his stuff, as his day job was trying to claw him back to the world of deadlines and responsibility. He just flung stuff in. I didnt pack much better. And the morning we set off, I had my iPad out and was half in motorbike land, and half in workville. Its so hard to escape for a couple of weeks. The midget got fed up with me working in the Wimpy wifi zones on the way up. Anyway, its a pretty atmospheric two day drive up to Windhoek where we picked up the others from the airport. And from there, after a night at Urban Camp, Windhoek, a 2 or 3 hours drive to Usakos, our start point.
Turns out only getting the motorbike off the trailer and facing off into the unknown was the only way to our heads out of responsibilities. And as we packed up our donkeys and filled up with fuel, we entered an entirely different world. Almost immediately money seemed way less important that sweeties and whisky and radiator fluid. Wallets, phones and computers were stashed away under spare tubes, liquor, and Rehydrate. Our adventure was beginning.
I have some bad quality video of the trip up. I’ll post it as soon I figure out how.
Our plan was to take the bikes up with a van and trailer. Two of us driving up, two of us driving back, and one of the five getting lucky and flying both ways. Anyway, that was the plan. It didnt totally work out, as you'll hear. The midget and I got lucky as we pulled straws from the bike helmet, and we got the drive up and flight back option. I was thinking that, as with the Angola trip 4 years previously, it was likely that my bike would die after the first day or two and then I’d be at least able to fly home. And in the unlikely event I finished the trip I wouldn’t have to fly home knackered.
The double cab, when we left, was a solid mass of biking gear and camping stuff. Ian didn’t even pack his stuff, as his day job was trying to claw him back to the world of deadlines and responsibility. He just flung stuff in. I didnt pack much better. And the morning we set off, I had my iPad out and was half in motorbike land, and half in workville. Its so hard to escape for a couple of weeks. The midget got fed up with me working in the Wimpy wifi zones on the way up. Anyway, its a pretty atmospheric two day drive up to Windhoek where we picked up the others from the airport. And from there, after a night at Urban Camp, Windhoek, a 2 or 3 hours drive to Usakos, our start point.
Turns out only getting the motorbike off the trailer and facing off into the unknown was the only way to our heads out of responsibilities. And as we packed up our donkeys and filled up with fuel, we entered an entirely different world. Almost immediately money seemed way less important that sweeties and whisky and radiator fluid. Wallets, phones and computers were stashed away under spare tubes, liquor, and Rehydrate. Our adventure was beginning.
I have some bad quality video of the trip up. I’ll post it as soon I figure out how.
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
Dacquiri said:And I was beginning to wonder who was going to get to VZP first, the orange/yellow/donkey brigade or the Honda guys and gal!!!?ot:
Ya. Don't hold your breath...
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
Day 1 (ish): Rock-Stars vs Monkey Division - Cape Town to Windhoek
When does a trip really begin? When you go shopping?
When you pack?
Or when you leave for real?
I unfortunately had to interrupt the frenzy of planning and preparation to quickly pop over to Greece for a family wedding.
Which turned the week before departure into a predictable chaotic frenzy. Quickly pull bike to pieces:
collect tyres…
put bikes back together...
and generally feel in woeful shape for a major adventure in some of the most remote wilderness on the planet.
When we went to Angola we naively thought we’d jump in the car and drive our bikes to the Namibian border. With our usual bumbling mayhem (turn around an hour in to fetch car papers, stop to repair Audi Centre Cape Town’s lovely cross-thread job on wheel nuts etc.) that little jaunt turned into a three day appointment with motoring purgatory. OH MY GOD we were not doing that again!! And this time we were suitably equipped with a double cab and Jimmy’s lovely trailer.
Jimmy:
Trailer:
What a nice bloke! I probably wouldn’t have lent my trailer to a mishmash bunch of Wilddogs strangers. Thank you again Jimmy!
As Tom has said there was an almighty game of numbers. Well, two actually. Initially it was just going to be our Awesome Foursome from Angola, so we drew lots for the ‘orrible drive back home. I came last.
And then when the Professor finally took the plunge and signed up, we had another game for the lucky ******* who would fly both ways. I came last.
Let’s look on the bright side. You get to play rock stars while the Monkey Division pilot the ground transport and bikes up to Windhoek. Just don’t think about what comes after. So around rolled Friday the 1st of September: cut and run from work, grab daypack, jump into life threatening Uber ride to airport and check in. Bosh! This, my friends, is a bloody cool way to start a bike trip:
A hop, skip and five beers later, and our chauffeur awaits in the swish surrounds of Windhoek international airport:
Game on.
When does a trip really begin? When you go shopping?
When you pack?
Or when you leave for real?
I unfortunately had to interrupt the frenzy of planning and preparation to quickly pop over to Greece for a family wedding.
Which turned the week before departure into a predictable chaotic frenzy. Quickly pull bike to pieces:
collect tyres…
put bikes back together...
and generally feel in woeful shape for a major adventure in some of the most remote wilderness on the planet.
When we went to Angola we naively thought we’d jump in the car and drive our bikes to the Namibian border. With our usual bumbling mayhem (turn around an hour in to fetch car papers, stop to repair Audi Centre Cape Town’s lovely cross-thread job on wheel nuts etc.) that little jaunt turned into a three day appointment with motoring purgatory. OH MY GOD we were not doing that again!! And this time we were suitably equipped with a double cab and Jimmy’s lovely trailer.
Jimmy:
Trailer:
What a nice bloke! I probably wouldn’t have lent my trailer to a mishmash bunch of Wilddogs strangers. Thank you again Jimmy!
As Tom has said there was an almighty game of numbers. Well, two actually. Initially it was just going to be our Awesome Foursome from Angola, so we drew lots for the ‘orrible drive back home. I came last.
And then when the Professor finally took the plunge and signed up, we had another game for the lucky ******* who would fly both ways. I came last.
Let’s look on the bright side. You get to play rock stars while the Monkey Division pilot the ground transport and bikes up to Windhoek. Just don’t think about what comes after. So around rolled Friday the 1st of September: cut and run from work, grab daypack, jump into life threatening Uber ride to airport and check in. Bosh! This, my friends, is a bloody cool way to start a bike trip:
A hop, skip and five beers later, and our chauffeur awaits in the swish surrounds of Windhoek international airport:
Game on.
Oom Foe-rie
Race Dog
I like this .............. :thumleft:
MaxThePanda
Race Dog
rubiblue said:
Greedy *******. That's two in two days!! :deal:
My apple every day keeps me from getting a post away.
The good photos start tomorrow ... :thumleft: Been trying to get the others on board. Bloody Midget has gone AWOL - got a garbled message about back to the bush, elephants, can't deal with real life, hate work, Buttercup Buttercup Buttercup Buttercup. Couldn't make head or tail of it.
Sam
Race Dog
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2007
- Messages
- 790
- Reaction score
- 2
- Bike
- AJS (all models)
I saw your swanky new Ranger turning up off Settlers Way onto De Waal drive a Sunday or two ago - very dusty and dirty bikes on the loadbay and trailer! I still commented on your 500 thread that I though one of them was a pitbike at first glance, but then figured that it must have been the Midget's Buttercup......
Still trying to figure out what that accessory is that he bought for it (couple of pics back)? Looks like a valve cap?
Looking forward to the rest of the report!
Must have been traumatic to spend so much time away from Caprice.....?
Still trying to figure out what that accessory is that he bought for it (couple of pics back)? Looks like a valve cap?
Looking forward to the rest of the report!
Must have been traumatic to spend so much time away from Caprice.....?
