LeonDude
Bachelor Dog
- Joined
- Sep 26, 2007
- Messages
- 10,285
- Reaction score
- 306
- Location
- Gauteng - Centurion
- Bike
- Suzuki DR650
Two bikes on a Dirty Weekend
Cave Girl had not done any rock climbing since her accident, and this weekend was the weekend that she would try her hand at it again. Now look, I cannot tell you much about rock climbing, but I love planning routes, and in no time at all which only took me three weeks I had a route planned out.
We met up in Bapsfontein and took a short hop to where the dirt would start. The route for the day was 360 Kilos, of which about 75 percent would be gravel. I don’t know how Mapsource got things so spot on, but all the roads that we took on day one was in fantastic condition.
We headed North on various dirt roads to Loskop dam, stopping en – route at the most dodgy café I had ever been in. In Lesotho I had been in cafés, and they were better than this place. But they had hot coffee, and this with a packet of crisps (It’s weekend, I’m allowed, ok!) was just about what we wanted. CG also bought some fatty beef biltong from the butcher, that made for some good eating on Saturday.
Lunch was a quick affair at a quiet restaurant at Loskop dam, and then we were off towards Belfast and Waterfal Boven.
At Belfast I had one of the best moments of the weekend. We were just riding through town and this guy was filling up his HUGE BMW tourer. Now look, that’s a lekker bike and I’d love to have one, but when him with his goose on the back overtook us a while later without so much as a wave I could just feel him being smug. 500 Meters later saw the turn – off that CG and myself had to take – straight on to gravel. It took me a long time to get the silly grin off my face. Take your tourer china, and go do battle with the cages. I’ll have my KLR and CG will have her Honda, and we will stick to the gravel!
We had been given special warning about the toll at Machado. There is a gravel detour, the warning read, but please check the road conditions beforehand to make sure the road was in Ok condition. Yeah right. CG and myself couldn’t wait to get there to check the condition for ourselves, and we can gladly report that it’s in good condition, and a helluva lot of fun to ride.
At Waterfal Boven we noticed that there was still an hour’s worth of sunlight left in the day, with only seven kilos to our destination, so a quick beer at the Irish pub was called for. Yah well no fine, I won’t go into details about the pub, but the beer was cold and that’s all that matters after a long days riding.
A quick ride and some photo stops after this beer saw us arriving at Tranquilitas, where CG’s great organizational skills had seen to it that everything had been catered for. Food, cold beer and a hot shower. But not in that order. The correct order is Cold beer, then another cold beer in a hot shower, then more cold beer with the food.
One of the bungalows at Tranquilitas
These tents are permanent, with nice comfy beds.
I slept like the dead that night, but only if the dead have to get up in the middle of the night to get rid of some excess processed beer.
Next morning sees us up early and breakfast is a lovely thing with (censored cause I started a cholestorol thread and you okes are going to tjoone me grief).
And then the climbing thing. Now look. I suppose you remember about me breaking my leg last year, and then two weeks ago I go and fall down again and pick up a secondary injury. No problem, these people tell me. You walk to this place, take that path and then there’s a bit of a scramble down the cliff face and then you walk along a path to were the climbing is going to take place. Yeah? Ok? Right, well they lied, but fortunately I made it to where the climbing was going to take place in one piece.
Cave Girl, who as I’ve said had not climbed since her accident, had a blast. She was up and down and up and down those rocks, and I have to admit I was green with envy. I will leave the techinical explanation of rock – climbing for her to do.
Taking photies is hard work. You need something to drink.
Unfortunately the weather was not playing along, and me being the only non – climber in the group was getting a bit cold, so I decided to walk back out to find something to warm me up with. Leaving CG in the good hands of her fellow climbers (old, good and trusted friends of hers, I must add), I made my way out of the valley thing, only to find the bungalow locked, meaning I could not get the keys or my kit for the bikes.
No problem, I had my camera and I love walking, so off I went for a stroll.
Eventually after lunch I got my hands on my riding kit, and on CG’s bike key, and I had my first chance to put the little yellow bike through its paces. The lowdown is, DON’T touch the front break, it locks up instantly. The bike hops a lot on stoney ground, and it hasn’t got the low down grunt of the 650. Other than that it’s a hooligan toy and I can only be glad that I didn’t break my flipping neck. Compared to my bike this thing weighs nothing, still has lots of speed and thinks nothing of being on technical stuff. I think for my own sake I should not buy one.
Take a look at the cliff face behind the bike. I’m not sure if the photo does them justice, but it were these cliff faces that CG and the other climbers were climbing that morning.
Another view of the bike
And yes, I was riding along the edge of the cliff there, on a little track meant for the MTB riders.
Then it was back to camp for more beer, good company, good food and more beer. And, of course, laying of plans for Sunday morning, all of which would go down the drain.
Sunday morning and the plan is to leave at seven, ride a route that I had worked out on Mapsource, and then take a slow and leasurely ride back from Barberton (Barbytown, as Ken would have it), back home.
I loved the first part. The N4 was quiet all the way to our turn – off point, and it was just quiet cruising at a leasurely pace. Then it was off the N4, and facing the ominous board that told us that this road was ‘no entry’, it was ‘private property’ and trespassers ‘would be prosecuted’.
BUT, you see, they had left the boom gate open, and there was no guard on duty. How lame.
The road started off good enough, and but soon it was climbing straight up into the sky, with swichbacks and hairpins covered with thick dust hiding stones on every bend. Pretty soon the road and the GPS had parted ways, but they kept coming back together every few kilos. It’s obvious that roads in the Sappi forests change often.
But I had worked this thing out on Mapsource, so we persevered. Up to a point, that is.
See if you can spot CG in this next photie
When we met the logging equipment in full swing, I decided it was time to make an important safety decision, and regretfully we had to turn back. Strangely, I never took a photo of the logging operations. I did however take photies of the strange dust. It is a mixture of dry sand, sawdust and large branches, and it’s hell to ride on.
There was just no way I could justify putting our safety at risk, no matter how great the riding was. So we turned around, backtracked to the N4, and came up with Plan B. And what a good plan it was. It started off with taking the road to Kaapse Hoop for a good breakfast.
We might have seen the wild horses that Kaapse Hoop is known for, but then again it might be anybodies horses we saw. But we saw a lot of them.
From Kaapse Hoop, we worked out a gravel route that would take us onto the road that led to Carolina.
We found this spot with a stunning view to have a rest before starting the tar journey home.
From Carolina it was plain sailing home. No wait, I have to tell you about the highway and Harleys.
So we’re running out of time, and decide to do a bit of Highway low – flying to make up time, and find ourselved at the garage just east of Middelburg, the one before (coming from the east) the toll gate. We fill up with juice, and pull our bikes in the shade, when suddenly the thunder of about, oh a few Harleys fill the air. Now I would gladly have shared my time with them, but hell there is something about the look of ‘God I’m good’ smugness about a forty something person with grey hair sitting on a hog that puts me off completely, and we got the hell out of that there place.
We kept on the hightway, taking the N12, up to the Ogies turn – off, when we just couldn’t stand the cages anymore. Then it was back onto back roads, and the weekend ended with a last cold frosty at a pub in Bapsfontein, the little town where it had started three days before.
Thanks again CG, it was a great weekend. Next time we will do some more of those roads that this time we had to fly past!
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyd it.
See you all on the gravel – RIDE SAFE!
Cave Girl had not done any rock climbing since her accident, and this weekend was the weekend that she would try her hand at it again. Now look, I cannot tell you much about rock climbing, but I love planning routes, and in no time at all which only took me three weeks I had a route planned out.
We met up in Bapsfontein and took a short hop to where the dirt would start. The route for the day was 360 Kilos, of which about 75 percent would be gravel. I don’t know how Mapsource got things so spot on, but all the roads that we took on day one was in fantastic condition.
We headed North on various dirt roads to Loskop dam, stopping en – route at the most dodgy café I had ever been in. In Lesotho I had been in cafés, and they were better than this place. But they had hot coffee, and this with a packet of crisps (It’s weekend, I’m allowed, ok!) was just about what we wanted. CG also bought some fatty beef biltong from the butcher, that made for some good eating on Saturday.
Lunch was a quick affair at a quiet restaurant at Loskop dam, and then we were off towards Belfast and Waterfal Boven.
At Belfast I had one of the best moments of the weekend. We were just riding through town and this guy was filling up his HUGE BMW tourer. Now look, that’s a lekker bike and I’d love to have one, but when him with his goose on the back overtook us a while later without so much as a wave I could just feel him being smug. 500 Meters later saw the turn – off that CG and myself had to take – straight on to gravel. It took me a long time to get the silly grin off my face. Take your tourer china, and go do battle with the cages. I’ll have my KLR and CG will have her Honda, and we will stick to the gravel!
We had been given special warning about the toll at Machado. There is a gravel detour, the warning read, but please check the road conditions beforehand to make sure the road was in Ok condition. Yeah right. CG and myself couldn’t wait to get there to check the condition for ourselves, and we can gladly report that it’s in good condition, and a helluva lot of fun to ride.
At Waterfal Boven we noticed that there was still an hour’s worth of sunlight left in the day, with only seven kilos to our destination, so a quick beer at the Irish pub was called for. Yah well no fine, I won’t go into details about the pub, but the beer was cold and that’s all that matters after a long days riding.
A quick ride and some photo stops after this beer saw us arriving at Tranquilitas, where CG’s great organizational skills had seen to it that everything had been catered for. Food, cold beer and a hot shower. But not in that order. The correct order is Cold beer, then another cold beer in a hot shower, then more cold beer with the food.
One of the bungalows at Tranquilitas
These tents are permanent, with nice comfy beds.
I slept like the dead that night, but only if the dead have to get up in the middle of the night to get rid of some excess processed beer.
Next morning sees us up early and breakfast is a lovely thing with (censored cause I started a cholestorol thread and you okes are going to tjoone me grief).
And then the climbing thing. Now look. I suppose you remember about me breaking my leg last year, and then two weeks ago I go and fall down again and pick up a secondary injury. No problem, these people tell me. You walk to this place, take that path and then there’s a bit of a scramble down the cliff face and then you walk along a path to were the climbing is going to take place. Yeah? Ok? Right, well they lied, but fortunately I made it to where the climbing was going to take place in one piece.
Cave Girl, who as I’ve said had not climbed since her accident, had a blast. She was up and down and up and down those rocks, and I have to admit I was green with envy. I will leave the techinical explanation of rock – climbing for her to do.
Taking photies is hard work. You need something to drink.
Unfortunately the weather was not playing along, and me being the only non – climber in the group was getting a bit cold, so I decided to walk back out to find something to warm me up with. Leaving CG in the good hands of her fellow climbers (old, good and trusted friends of hers, I must add), I made my way out of the valley thing, only to find the bungalow locked, meaning I could not get the keys or my kit for the bikes.
No problem, I had my camera and I love walking, so off I went for a stroll.
Eventually after lunch I got my hands on my riding kit, and on CG’s bike key, and I had my first chance to put the little yellow bike through its paces. The lowdown is, DON’T touch the front break, it locks up instantly. The bike hops a lot on stoney ground, and it hasn’t got the low down grunt of the 650. Other than that it’s a hooligan toy and I can only be glad that I didn’t break my flipping neck. Compared to my bike this thing weighs nothing, still has lots of speed and thinks nothing of being on technical stuff. I think for my own sake I should not buy one.
Take a look at the cliff face behind the bike. I’m not sure if the photo does them justice, but it were these cliff faces that CG and the other climbers were climbing that morning.
Another view of the bike
And yes, I was riding along the edge of the cliff there, on a little track meant for the MTB riders.
Then it was back to camp for more beer, good company, good food and more beer. And, of course, laying of plans for Sunday morning, all of which would go down the drain.
Sunday morning and the plan is to leave at seven, ride a route that I had worked out on Mapsource, and then take a slow and leasurely ride back from Barberton (Barbytown, as Ken would have it), back home.
I loved the first part. The N4 was quiet all the way to our turn – off point, and it was just quiet cruising at a leasurely pace. Then it was off the N4, and facing the ominous board that told us that this road was ‘no entry’, it was ‘private property’ and trespassers ‘would be prosecuted’.
BUT, you see, they had left the boom gate open, and there was no guard on duty. How lame.
The road started off good enough, and but soon it was climbing straight up into the sky, with swichbacks and hairpins covered with thick dust hiding stones on every bend. Pretty soon the road and the GPS had parted ways, but they kept coming back together every few kilos. It’s obvious that roads in the Sappi forests change often.
But I had worked this thing out on Mapsource, so we persevered. Up to a point, that is.
See if you can spot CG in this next photie
When we met the logging equipment in full swing, I decided it was time to make an important safety decision, and regretfully we had to turn back. Strangely, I never took a photo of the logging operations. I did however take photies of the strange dust. It is a mixture of dry sand, sawdust and large branches, and it’s hell to ride on.
There was just no way I could justify putting our safety at risk, no matter how great the riding was. So we turned around, backtracked to the N4, and came up with Plan B. And what a good plan it was. It started off with taking the road to Kaapse Hoop for a good breakfast.
We might have seen the wild horses that Kaapse Hoop is known for, but then again it might be anybodies horses we saw. But we saw a lot of them.
From Kaapse Hoop, we worked out a gravel route that would take us onto the road that led to Carolina.
We found this spot with a stunning view to have a rest before starting the tar journey home.
From Carolina it was plain sailing home. No wait, I have to tell you about the highway and Harleys.
So we’re running out of time, and decide to do a bit of Highway low – flying to make up time, and find ourselved at the garage just east of Middelburg, the one before (coming from the east) the toll gate. We fill up with juice, and pull our bikes in the shade, when suddenly the thunder of about, oh a few Harleys fill the air. Now I would gladly have shared my time with them, but hell there is something about the look of ‘God I’m good’ smugness about a forty something person with grey hair sitting on a hog that puts me off completely, and we got the hell out of that there place.
We kept on the hightway, taking the N12, up to the Ogies turn – off, when we just couldn’t stand the cages anymore. Then it was back onto back roads, and the weekend ended with a last cold frosty at a pub in Bapsfontein, the little town where it had started three days before.
Thanks again CG, it was a great weekend. Next time we will do some more of those roads that this time we had to fly past!
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyd it.
See you all on the gravel – RIDE SAFE!
