West to East across the USA [“Portland to Maryland”]: September 2015 (links to the pictures fixed)
- Thread starter Jabus
- Start date
JACOVV
Race Dog
Thank you for a "lekker" report.
Waiting to hear what was behind the green door
Waiting to hear what was behind the green door
- Joined
- May 4, 2015
- Messages
- 237
- Reaction score
- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
Thanks, Jaco!
- Joined
- May 4, 2015
- Messages
- 237
- Reaction score
- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
Day13: Marshall to Minneapolis
Route: 23 to Granite Falls/Wilmar/Spicer/Paynesville/Cold Spring. Interstate 94 to Rogers 101/169 to Elk River, 94 to 494 to Minneapolis.
Today will be our last day of riding together. We will drop Vaughn’s bike off at EagleRider in Elk River, where his wife will meet us. We agreed to meet at McDonalds for a coffee before we started the day. We are in no hurry, and I ask him about the Schwan Food Company. From what I could see on the internet, their head office is in Marshall, and they seem to have a very interesting business model of only doing home deliveries of frozen foods. For a while, we talk about the complex logistics of the business, etc., and then he gets sidetracked. He tells me about a friend of his who walked in on the Schwan delivery guy doing a “special delivery” for his wife. Well, naturally, they split up, but the guy later reflected on the incident and his only complaint was that “he didn't even get any free pork steaks out of the deal!”
Magnificent farming area! Busy harvesting Soya Beans.
Vaughn stops at Cabelas in Rogers.
It is a massive outdoor and adventure shop, and he must drag me out the door one hour later…
The collection of guns and ammunition is just massive.
They even have a collection of Kudus.
And two lions attacking an African Buffalo…
We drop Vaughn’s bike at the Zylstra EagleRider and I follow them to the hotel.
Route: 23 to Granite Falls/Wilmar/Spicer/Paynesville/Cold Spring. Interstate 94 to Rogers 101/169 to Elk River, 94 to 494 to Minneapolis.
Today will be our last day of riding together. We will drop Vaughn’s bike off at EagleRider in Elk River, where his wife will meet us. We agreed to meet at McDonalds for a coffee before we started the day. We are in no hurry, and I ask him about the Schwan Food Company. From what I could see on the internet, their head office is in Marshall, and they seem to have a very interesting business model of only doing home deliveries of frozen foods. For a while, we talk about the complex logistics of the business, etc., and then he gets sidetracked. He tells me about a friend of his who walked in on the Schwan delivery guy doing a “special delivery” for his wife. Well, naturally, they split up, but the guy later reflected on the incident and his only complaint was that “he didn't even get any free pork steaks out of the deal!”
Magnificent farming area! Busy harvesting Soya Beans.
Vaughn stops at Cabelas in Rogers.
It is a massive outdoor and adventure shop, and he must drag me out the door one hour later…
The collection of guns and ammunition is just massive.
They even have a collection of Kudus.
And two lions attacking an African Buffalo…
We drop Vaughn’s bike at the Zylstra EagleRider and I follow them to the hotel.
- Joined
- May 4, 2015
- Messages
- 237
- Reaction score
- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
Day13: Marshall to Minneapolis (Continued...)
It feels weird to ride in a car again after almost two weeks on a bike. Manny’s Steakhouse is a hive of activity (meaning it is loud, not uncivilized, but loud nonetheless). The food portions that are on display are HUGE! Manny clearly did not participate in Dr. Ancel Keys’ “Minnesota Starvation Experiment,” which was conducted in the 1940s. Or perhaps this is Manny’s revenge on Dr. Keys.
The main course arrives on a trolley and the steak is excellent! As per usual, Vaughn ponders on this, perhaps being “The best steak ever”. He always does this calibration check when he finds something exquisite. We become distracted by the "Kudu-Wellington steak" we had at Rhebokskloof a couple of years ago. He remembers every detail of that dish…
We wash it down with a 2013 “The Prisoner” Napa Red wine. Perhaps our own revenge on Dr. Keys.
Across the room a guy with long hair, black T-Shirt, and jacket and, wait for it….., sunglasses, attracts a lot of attention. People stop at his table, shake hands, make small talk, etc. We have no clue who this person might be. When our waiter takes our desert order, I ask him who the guy is. He looks over his shoulder and says “I don’t know, but yeah, with the T-shirt and sunglasses, he does look famous”. And then, as an afterthought, he adds, “Oh yeah, and he has an accent…..” We burst out laughing while Vaughn repeated, “Oh yeah, having an accent, that surely must make him famous.”
The three of us share the chocolate brownie for dessert. Well let’s be more specific: Chocolate brownie with whipped cream, ice cream, caramel and chocolate sauce. All this is, of course, finished off with a helping of “healthy fresh strawberries”.
It would be a sin not to elaborate a bit on the chocolate and caramel sauce. Our waiter placed the brownie with cream and ice cream topping on the table. Then he pulls out two big silver mugs (“nagmaalbekers manne!”), one filled with steaming hot caramel sauce and the other with chocolate. He holds them in both hands almost like a John Wayne “double draw” and starts to twirl-pour them simultaneously over the brownie. The cream and ice cream melts as the sauce runs over the plate….. That show is enough to give the man a huge tip!
Yes, just in case you wondered, that is a steak knife standing uptight in the brownie….
Well, if the waitress at the Knuckle Saloon Bar thought the Patty Melt Sandwich was an “Experience”, this really was! With or without an accent. This really was a sweet end to the days of riding together...
We say our goodbye’s before we head off to our rooms. My plan is to do about 650km tomorrow and sleep over at Pat and Rosie’s place in Chicago. I would prefer to take the scenic route and stay off the Interstate as far as possible. That implies an early start….
Back in the room, I have a look at CNN's weather forecast and notice Hurricane Joaquin making his way up the East Coast. I may have to alter my route a bit as I head towards Baltimore…
It feels weird to ride in a car again after almost two weeks on a bike. Manny’s Steakhouse is a hive of activity (meaning it is loud, not uncivilized, but loud nonetheless). The food portions that are on display are HUGE! Manny clearly did not participate in Dr. Ancel Keys’ “Minnesota Starvation Experiment,” which was conducted in the 1940s. Or perhaps this is Manny’s revenge on Dr. Keys.
The main course arrives on a trolley and the steak is excellent! As per usual, Vaughn ponders on this, perhaps being “The best steak ever”. He always does this calibration check when he finds something exquisite. We become distracted by the "Kudu-Wellington steak" we had at Rhebokskloof a couple of years ago. He remembers every detail of that dish…
We wash it down with a 2013 “The Prisoner” Napa Red wine. Perhaps our own revenge on Dr. Keys.
Across the room a guy with long hair, black T-Shirt, and jacket and, wait for it….., sunglasses, attracts a lot of attention. People stop at his table, shake hands, make small talk, etc. We have no clue who this person might be. When our waiter takes our desert order, I ask him who the guy is. He looks over his shoulder and says “I don’t know, but yeah, with the T-shirt and sunglasses, he does look famous”. And then, as an afterthought, he adds, “Oh yeah, and he has an accent…..” We burst out laughing while Vaughn repeated, “Oh yeah, having an accent, that surely must make him famous.”
The three of us share the chocolate brownie for dessert. Well let’s be more specific: Chocolate brownie with whipped cream, ice cream, caramel and chocolate sauce. All this is, of course, finished off with a helping of “healthy fresh strawberries”.
It would be a sin not to elaborate a bit on the chocolate and caramel sauce. Our waiter placed the brownie with cream and ice cream topping on the table. Then he pulls out two big silver mugs (“nagmaalbekers manne!”), one filled with steaming hot caramel sauce and the other with chocolate. He holds them in both hands almost like a John Wayne “double draw” and starts to twirl-pour them simultaneously over the brownie. The cream and ice cream melts as the sauce runs over the plate….. That show is enough to give the man a huge tip!
Yes, just in case you wondered, that is a steak knife standing uptight in the brownie….
Well, if the waitress at the Knuckle Saloon Bar thought the Patty Melt Sandwich was an “Experience”, this really was! With or without an accent. This really was a sweet end to the days of riding together...
We say our goodbye’s before we head off to our rooms. My plan is to do about 650km tomorrow and sleep over at Pat and Rosie’s place in Chicago. I would prefer to take the scenic route and stay off the Interstate as far as possible. That implies an early start….
Back in the room, I have a look at CNN's weather forecast and notice Hurricane Joaquin making his way up the East Coast. I may have to alter my route a bit as I head towards Baltimore…
- Joined
- May 4, 2015
- Messages
- 237
- Reaction score
- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
Day 14: Minneapolis to Chicago
Route: South on 52 to Rochester and the following 14 to Chicago
Staying on 14 and crossing the Mississippi River at La Crosse and the Wisconsin at Helena.
Continuing on 14 and then taking a detour through downtown Madison (bad idea) before linking up with 14 again. At Evansville I leave 14 and take 59/213 to Beloit. From Beloit I get onto I-90 (Jane Adams Memorial Toll way) to Randall Rd. through Geneva to Batavia.
I am tempted to just take the Interstate all the way to Chicago, but decide to get up early and take the scenic route. Vaughn’s last “suggestment” was to head south to Rochester and then east to Winona and then staying on 14 which will be scenic all the way to Madison and Chicago. At 6:30 I’m ready to leave the parking area of the hotel.
I cross the Mississippi River at La Crosse. The City Brewing Company is prominent and was formed in 1999 when the Heileman Brewing Company was bought out.
La Crosse makes a bold statement but unfortunately, the state of the signage does not reflect the quality of the mission statement…
Some households take Halloween seriously….
And the local markets get ready to supply the pumpkins…
The European influence is clearly visible. Westby has a strong Norwegian influence.
Even the shops show a strong Scandinavian influence, with names like Hansens, Knudsens etc
The fall colors are becoming more prominent…
A pretty memorial at Stafford…
I decide to take a detour through the center of Madison. It is Saturday afternoon and there shouldn’t be much traffic… Big mistake! The streets are lined with a sea of red sweaters. Badger(?) supporters making their way to the game? And for those who do not know, lane splitting is not allowed. So, I sit in traffic. Stand up occasionally. A badger starts to remind me of a Bison, but the vibe is terrific, and I try to soak it in as much as possible. Rain clouds are building, and I have to look for a McDonalds where I can change into my bright-yellow-blow-up-doll-rain-suit.
I just love the openness of the countryside…
At Beloit I cross the Wisconsin-Illinois boundary. Putin is starting to predict an arrival time after sunset, and I decide to choose the fastest route to Chicago. I take out some cash for toll fees and secure it to the magnets on the handlebars.
Arriving at Pat and Rosie’s place in Batavia. It is just after dark, with light rain all around.
Pat uncorks a bottle of red wine while Rosie prepares dinner. We haven’t seen each other for several years but the sign of good friends is that you can pick up the discussion as if you saw each other yesterday. They have spent a few years in Cape Town and keep themselves informed about SA politics, etc. Rosie is a real matchmaker, and they still have a lot of friends in SA.
On the menu tonight is “The Shine’s Spaghetti Sauce”. This is part of Rosie’s family heritage! She shows me the original handwritten recipe July 23, 1968! Here’s Rosie’s description:
“My uncles Shine, Plu, Bee (and for a time youngest brother, Willy) owned and operated “Shines Tap” originally known as “Shine’s Hillbilly Club” in Jonesville, IL (unincorporated suburb of Oglesby, IL) for more than 60 years. Oglesby is about the size of Loxton so you get the humor.
But here is the real secret behind the secret taste…..
The note from my cousin stated some interesting facts that contributed to the exceptional taste of our uncle’s sauce:
“Uncle Shine told me a long time ago that you need to use Contadina Tomato paste as it has the best quality and flavor. The last thing that might affect things somewhat is that you need a large stainless-steel pan made out of an old wash machine tub, that Bud Miller (neighbor, talented entrepreneur and frequent customer in the tavern) probably welded up for them, and a homemade wooden paddle to cook with. While i am sure Uncle Shine may be a little forgiving on this, however, remember things might not turn out exactly as intended without everything in place. Let me know if you have any problems receiving this top-secret information.”
Rosie adds "Cousin Mark reiterated the specialness of the recipe and the instructions to keep it in my safe."
I am indeed honoured to have access to the family secret!
Uncle Shine’s handwritten recipe…. Just briefly making its appearance and then back in the safe as per Cousin Mark’s instructions. (originally penned in 1968 and revised in 1969, how special is that!?)
And the taste is….. “Mamma Mia”….
This has been an exceptionally tough day. Not only because of the long hours on the road but also mentally the toughest.
When I get to my room, I can’t help but notice Rosie’s special touch. She made the quilts, and the chocolate is waiting on my pillow, just as she promised 12months ago when I mentioned the possibility of the trip…
Route: South on 52 to Rochester and the following 14 to Chicago
Staying on 14 and crossing the Mississippi River at La Crosse and the Wisconsin at Helena.
Continuing on 14 and then taking a detour through downtown Madison (bad idea) before linking up with 14 again. At Evansville I leave 14 and take 59/213 to Beloit. From Beloit I get onto I-90 (Jane Adams Memorial Toll way) to Randall Rd. through Geneva to Batavia.
I am tempted to just take the Interstate all the way to Chicago, but decide to get up early and take the scenic route. Vaughn’s last “suggestment” was to head south to Rochester and then east to Winona and then staying on 14 which will be scenic all the way to Madison and Chicago. At 6:30 I’m ready to leave the parking area of the hotel.
I cross the Mississippi River at La Crosse. The City Brewing Company is prominent and was formed in 1999 when the Heileman Brewing Company was bought out.
La Crosse makes a bold statement but unfortunately, the state of the signage does not reflect the quality of the mission statement…
Some households take Halloween seriously….
And the local markets get ready to supply the pumpkins…
The European influence is clearly visible. Westby has a strong Norwegian influence.
Even the shops show a strong Scandinavian influence, with names like Hansens, Knudsens etc
The fall colors are becoming more prominent…
A pretty memorial at Stafford…
I decide to take a detour through the center of Madison. It is Saturday afternoon and there shouldn’t be much traffic… Big mistake! The streets are lined with a sea of red sweaters. Badger(?) supporters making their way to the game? And for those who do not know, lane splitting is not allowed. So, I sit in traffic. Stand up occasionally. A badger starts to remind me of a Bison, but the vibe is terrific, and I try to soak it in as much as possible. Rain clouds are building, and I have to look for a McDonalds where I can change into my bright-yellow-blow-up-doll-rain-suit.
I just love the openness of the countryside…
At Beloit I cross the Wisconsin-Illinois boundary. Putin is starting to predict an arrival time after sunset, and I decide to choose the fastest route to Chicago. I take out some cash for toll fees and secure it to the magnets on the handlebars.
Arriving at Pat and Rosie’s place in Batavia. It is just after dark, with light rain all around.
Pat uncorks a bottle of red wine while Rosie prepares dinner. We haven’t seen each other for several years but the sign of good friends is that you can pick up the discussion as if you saw each other yesterday. They have spent a few years in Cape Town and keep themselves informed about SA politics, etc. Rosie is a real matchmaker, and they still have a lot of friends in SA.
On the menu tonight is “The Shine’s Spaghetti Sauce”. This is part of Rosie’s family heritage! She shows me the original handwritten recipe July 23, 1968! Here’s Rosie’s description:
“My uncles Shine, Plu, Bee (and for a time youngest brother, Willy) owned and operated “Shines Tap” originally known as “Shine’s Hillbilly Club” in Jonesville, IL (unincorporated suburb of Oglesby, IL) for more than 60 years. Oglesby is about the size of Loxton so you get the humor.
But here is the real secret behind the secret taste…..
The note from my cousin stated some interesting facts that contributed to the exceptional taste of our uncle’s sauce:
“Uncle Shine told me a long time ago that you need to use Contadina Tomato paste as it has the best quality and flavor. The last thing that might affect things somewhat is that you need a large stainless-steel pan made out of an old wash machine tub, that Bud Miller (neighbor, talented entrepreneur and frequent customer in the tavern) probably welded up for them, and a homemade wooden paddle to cook with. While i am sure Uncle Shine may be a little forgiving on this, however, remember things might not turn out exactly as intended without everything in place. Let me know if you have any problems receiving this top-secret information.”
Rosie adds "Cousin Mark reiterated the specialness of the recipe and the instructions to keep it in my safe."
I am indeed honoured to have access to the family secret!
Uncle Shine’s handwritten recipe…. Just briefly making its appearance and then back in the safe as per Cousin Mark’s instructions. (originally penned in 1968 and revised in 1969, how special is that!?)
And the taste is….. “Mamma Mia”….
This has been an exceptionally tough day. Not only because of the long hours on the road but also mentally the toughest.
When I get to my room, I can’t help but notice Rosie’s special touch. She made the quilts, and the chocolate is waiting on my pillow, just as she promised 12months ago when I mentioned the possibility of the trip…
- Joined
- May 4, 2015
- Messages
- 237
- Reaction score
- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
Day 15: Chicago to Fort Wayne
Route: I aim straight for Joliet via Plainfield on 30. At Joliet I link up with 80 then take 65 to 30 which takes me all the way Fort Wayne.
My plan is to leave Chicago at around lunchtime in order to miss the traffic on Monday morning. Pat suggests that I aim for Fort Wayne, which is about 300 kilometers east of Chicago. From there, he suggests I take the historic Lincoln Highway. This gives us some more time to catch up and explore the neighborhood.
Pat and Rosie bought the property in 2011 and started to refurbish it, making a conscious decision to “live more softly on the earth.” Rosie is a very keen gardener and during her time in SA she volunteered at Kirstenbosch as well as Stellenbosch’s Botanical Gardens. She designed a labyrinth in the front garden, which Pat, and I walked for fun in the early morning. As we walk to the back garden, Pat points out several dead trees in the neighborhood. These massive trees all died because of the infestation by Asian long-horned beetles. The beetles most likely hitched a free ride in wooden pallets and crates. (These buggers look a lot like the ones that destroyed my dad’s willow tree … he called them “Boktorre” with reference to their Sable-like horns.)
The garden behind the home is where the fun really starts. Rosie has flower beds, a vegetable garden, an apple orchard and even hops on one of the pergolas.
Another very creative idea…
Pat designed a water feature that harvests and cleans rainwater, which also doubles as a fish pond (part of the cleaning and filtration process). The big water tanks are underground and the water is used to irrigate the garden.
He also designed a porch covered in solar panels that feed into the home and local grid for which they get credits. Pat tracks their energy consumption and compares it to the average in the neighborhood. Pat’s savings are in the order of 35%. Now this is sustainability in action!
Rosie even has an aloe in the garden that she brought back from SA. She confirms that the poor fella sleeps inside during winter times…
We head out for breakfast at Pat and Rosie’s favorite diner in Geneva.
The next stop is at Fabyan Windmills, next to the Fox River. The park has a Dutch style windmill, which was restored in a couple of years to a condition where it can actually grind wheat into flour.
Fermilab is a short drive from Pat and Rosie’s home. Notice the two accelerators in the Google Earth image below.
The inside of Wilson Hall.
This is an interesting control room: It is from this control room that Fermilab takes over control of CERN in Geneva, Switzerland, when the Swiss go to sleep.
A week ago, we rode through Lead (near Deadwood). This is the control room at Fermilab, from where neutrinos will be sent to the Stanford Underground Facility in Lead as part of the big neutrino experiment. It is indeed a small world.
While I get ready to ride, Pat and Rosie give me a short lecture about Lewis and Clark… They have the transcripts of the L&C diaries and I learn about Sacagawea, the Shoshone Woman who traveled with them up the Missouri River, over the mountains and all the way to Astoria (Cape Disappointment). Pat says that an interesting fact is that Sacagawea was the sister of one of the Native American Chiefs that they encountered on the route and in that way, she assisted keeping them safe while at the same time handling the translations for them.
It is an emotional goodbye for me. I remind Pat that he is partly to “blame” for this trip. (I will explain the detail later…). I get on the bike and as Lewis and Clark said, “We proceeded on….”
Route: I aim straight for Joliet via Plainfield on 30. At Joliet I link up with 80 then take 65 to 30 which takes me all the way Fort Wayne.
My plan is to leave Chicago at around lunchtime in order to miss the traffic on Monday morning. Pat suggests that I aim for Fort Wayne, which is about 300 kilometers east of Chicago. From there, he suggests I take the historic Lincoln Highway. This gives us some more time to catch up and explore the neighborhood.
Pat and Rosie bought the property in 2011 and started to refurbish it, making a conscious decision to “live more softly on the earth.” Rosie is a very keen gardener and during her time in SA she volunteered at Kirstenbosch as well as Stellenbosch’s Botanical Gardens. She designed a labyrinth in the front garden, which Pat, and I walked for fun in the early morning. As we walk to the back garden, Pat points out several dead trees in the neighborhood. These massive trees all died because of the infestation by Asian long-horned beetles. The beetles most likely hitched a free ride in wooden pallets and crates. (These buggers look a lot like the ones that destroyed my dad’s willow tree … he called them “Boktorre” with reference to their Sable-like horns.)
The garden behind the home is where the fun really starts. Rosie has flower beds, a vegetable garden, an apple orchard and even hops on one of the pergolas.
Another very creative idea…
Pat designed a water feature that harvests and cleans rainwater, which also doubles as a fish pond (part of the cleaning and filtration process). The big water tanks are underground and the water is used to irrigate the garden.
He also designed a porch covered in solar panels that feed into the home and local grid for which they get credits. Pat tracks their energy consumption and compares it to the average in the neighborhood. Pat’s savings are in the order of 35%. Now this is sustainability in action!
Rosie even has an aloe in the garden that she brought back from SA. She confirms that the poor fella sleeps inside during winter times…
We head out for breakfast at Pat and Rosie’s favorite diner in Geneva.
The next stop is at Fabyan Windmills, next to the Fox River. The park has a Dutch style windmill, which was restored in a couple of years to a condition where it can actually grind wheat into flour.
Fermilab is a short drive from Pat and Rosie’s home. Notice the two accelerators in the Google Earth image below.
The inside of Wilson Hall.
This is an interesting control room: It is from this control room that Fermilab takes over control of CERN in Geneva, Switzerland, when the Swiss go to sleep.
A week ago, we rode through Lead (near Deadwood). This is the control room at Fermilab, from where neutrinos will be sent to the Stanford Underground Facility in Lead as part of the big neutrino experiment. It is indeed a small world.
While I get ready to ride, Pat and Rosie give me a short lecture about Lewis and Clark… They have the transcripts of the L&C diaries and I learn about Sacagawea, the Shoshone Woman who traveled with them up the Missouri River, over the mountains and all the way to Astoria (Cape Disappointment). Pat says that an interesting fact is that Sacagawea was the sister of one of the Native American Chiefs that they encountered on the route and in that way, she assisted keeping them safe while at the same time handling the translations for them.
It is an emotional goodbye for me. I remind Pat that he is partly to “blame” for this trip. (I will explain the detail later…). I get on the bike and as Lewis and Clark said, “We proceeded on….”
- Joined
- May 4, 2015
- Messages
- 237
- Reaction score
- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
“Filter of Plain?”
Dit maak nie saak waar jy jou Café Latte bestel nie. Of dit nou by Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts, McDonalds of hier in die Hoodsport Coffee Company is. Die bestelling is nooit net ‘n “Café Latte” nie. Dit is maar net die begin. Dan volg die vrae. Watse tipe koffie? Katjieng. Watse tipe melk? Katjieng. Hoe groot of klein ens., ens. Katjieng, katjieng, katjieng.
Waar ek langs die kaggel in die Hoodsport Coffee Company sit sien ek die antieke koffiemasjien amper eensaam in die hoekie staan. Ek staan op en bekyk hom van naderby. Eerstens is ek verbaas dat daar so lank gelede al outomatiese koffiemasjiene bestaan het. Tweedens is ek verbaas oor die beprekte keuse:
-Swart.
-Swart met melk.
-Swart met suiker.
-Swart met melk en suiker.
Katjieng.
Dit is moeilik om vir iemand wat nog nie in Amerika was nie te verduidelik watter verskeidenheid verbruikers daar is. Veral as dit by kos kom. As jy voor die tamatiesous rak staan is die keuse nie net beperk tot “All Gold” en “Heinz” nie. Die tamatiesous beslaan ‘n rak of twee op sy eie. Net so vir hondekos…..
Eiers in alle groottes en in alle soorte verpakking…
En bakmengsels vir Afrika (by wyse van spreuke natuurlik….)
Hoe nader ek aan die ooskus beweeg hoe meer volop is die “SHEETZ” motorhawens. Die ekwivalent van ons Engen One Stops of Shell Ultracities. Hier kan ek pertrol ingooi, bietjie rus, vir die mense sit en kyk en ‘n koffie drink. Hier sien ek ‘n mooi illustrasie van die “Amerikaanse-verbruikerskeuse” in aksie.
As jy by SHEETZ” will koffie koop is daar twee opsies:
Jy kan vir jou ‘n beker vat (verskillende groottes natuurlik) en vir jouself skink uit die volgende keuses wat “on tap” beskikbaar is: Decaf, Breakfast, Classic, Sumatra, French. (En soos klokslag is daar altyd 'n Yank wat vra of hulle nie sy spesiale"Suid-Soebanse-groen-geroosterde-koffiebone" brousel het nie.... En dan nog afgehaal klink as dit nie beskikbaar is nie...)
Maar ‘n mens doen die “on tap” ding net as jy baie haastig is. As jy bietjie meer tyd het dan gebruik jy die Expresso bar….. Hier kies jy op ‘n “touch screen” jou gunsteling brousel en dan maak iemand agter die toonbank dit vir jou. Blitsvinning. Katjieng.
Nou hier volg die proses om ‘n Café Latte in die VSA te bestel. In TIEN maklike stappe…
Eerste skerm: “Made to Order Food” óf “Made to order Speciality Coffeez (sic) & Smoothies”…
Ek kies “Speciality Coffeez (sic) & Smoothies.”
Tweede skerm: Ek kies “Latte & Cuppachino”....
Derde skerm: Ek kies “Lattes”…..
Vierde skerm: Ek kies “Hot”…
Ek begin wonder of hierdie ding op SAP loop…
Vyfde skerm: Ek kies "Made to Order"…
Sesde skerm: Ek kies “Large”…
Sewende skerm: Terwyl ek nou die tyd en die geld het kies ek “Ethiopian”….
Goed nou weet ek dit is nie SAP nie, die ding laat jou heeltemal te veel keuses toe. Jy kan selfs “Back” of “Cancel” kies!
Agste skerm: Ek kies ”No Flavor”…
Negende skerm: Ek kies “Whole”…
Tiende skerm: Net vir die effek kies ek “Whipped cream”….
“You ask. You get. You pay…” $3.06
Terwyl ek die “10 easy steps” Latte sit en drink kan ek nie anders as om aan Tolla/Steyn se Hasie-grappie van “Filter of Plain?” te dink nie
Dit maak nie saak waar jy jou Café Latte bestel nie. Of dit nou by Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts, McDonalds of hier in die Hoodsport Coffee Company is. Die bestelling is nooit net ‘n “Café Latte” nie. Dit is maar net die begin. Dan volg die vrae. Watse tipe koffie? Katjieng. Watse tipe melk? Katjieng. Hoe groot of klein ens., ens. Katjieng, katjieng, katjieng.
Waar ek langs die kaggel in die Hoodsport Coffee Company sit sien ek die antieke koffiemasjien amper eensaam in die hoekie staan. Ek staan op en bekyk hom van naderby. Eerstens is ek verbaas dat daar so lank gelede al outomatiese koffiemasjiene bestaan het. Tweedens is ek verbaas oor die beprekte keuse:
-Swart.
-Swart met melk.
-Swart met suiker.
-Swart met melk en suiker.
Katjieng.
Dit is moeilik om vir iemand wat nog nie in Amerika was nie te verduidelik watter verskeidenheid verbruikers daar is. Veral as dit by kos kom. As jy voor die tamatiesous rak staan is die keuse nie net beperk tot “All Gold” en “Heinz” nie. Die tamatiesous beslaan ‘n rak of twee op sy eie. Net so vir hondekos…..
Eiers in alle groottes en in alle soorte verpakking…
En bakmengsels vir Afrika (by wyse van spreuke natuurlik….)
Hoe nader ek aan die ooskus beweeg hoe meer volop is die “SHEETZ” motorhawens. Die ekwivalent van ons Engen One Stops of Shell Ultracities. Hier kan ek pertrol ingooi, bietjie rus, vir die mense sit en kyk en ‘n koffie drink. Hier sien ek ‘n mooi illustrasie van die “Amerikaanse-verbruikerskeuse” in aksie.
As jy by SHEETZ” will koffie koop is daar twee opsies:
Jy kan vir jou ‘n beker vat (verskillende groottes natuurlik) en vir jouself skink uit die volgende keuses wat “on tap” beskikbaar is: Decaf, Breakfast, Classic, Sumatra, French. (En soos klokslag is daar altyd 'n Yank wat vra of hulle nie sy spesiale"Suid-Soebanse-groen-geroosterde-koffiebone" brousel het nie.... En dan nog afgehaal klink as dit nie beskikbaar is nie...)
Maar ‘n mens doen die “on tap” ding net as jy baie haastig is. As jy bietjie meer tyd het dan gebruik jy die Expresso bar….. Hier kies jy op ‘n “touch screen” jou gunsteling brousel en dan maak iemand agter die toonbank dit vir jou. Blitsvinning. Katjieng.
Nou hier volg die proses om ‘n Café Latte in die VSA te bestel. In TIEN maklike stappe…
Eerste skerm: “Made to Order Food” óf “Made to order Speciality Coffeez (sic) & Smoothies”…
Ek kies “Speciality Coffeez (sic) & Smoothies.”
Tweede skerm: Ek kies “Latte & Cuppachino”....
Derde skerm: Ek kies “Lattes”…..
Vierde skerm: Ek kies “Hot”…
Ek begin wonder of hierdie ding op SAP loop…
Vyfde skerm: Ek kies "Made to Order"…
Sesde skerm: Ek kies “Large”…
Sewende skerm: Terwyl ek nou die tyd en die geld het kies ek “Ethiopian”….
Goed nou weet ek dit is nie SAP nie, die ding laat jou heeltemal te veel keuses toe. Jy kan selfs “Back” of “Cancel” kies!
Agste skerm: Ek kies ”No Flavor”…
Negende skerm: Ek kies “Whole”…
Tiende skerm: Net vir die effek kies ek “Whipped cream”….
“You ask. You get. You pay…” $3.06
Terwyl ek die “10 easy steps” Latte sit en drink kan ek nie anders as om aan Tolla/Steyn se Hasie-grappie van “Filter of Plain?” te dink nie
Last edited:
Is ek skeel of hoekom lyk Pat en Rosie se rooi deur onderstebo gemount?
- Joined
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- BMW R1200GS Adventure
Genade Chris jy kyk na baie detail !!
Moes nou in-zoom, en ja, dit lyk of the slot ondersebo is!- Joined
- May 4, 2015
- Messages
- 237
- Reaction score
- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
“God’s Business”
Ek ry vandag tussen Pittsburgh en Staunton. In een van die voorstede vang my oog die elektroniese advertensiebord wat lees” “Go Steelers”. Die Steelers is Pittburgh se NFL span so dit is per se nie snaaks nie. Wat wel vir my snaaks is, is waar die advertensie geplaas word. Ek stop, draai om en neem ‘n paar fotos.
Die bord adverteer onder andere die “Bucs” ook….
Maar as jy dit dalk nog nie raakgesien het nie…. Die advertensiebord is voor die St Hilary Katolieke Kerk! Ek wonder by myself hoe sal die “Go Bulls” teken voor die Waterkloofrif NG Kerk lyk? Met ‘n Bulls vlag natuurlik… (Wel die Ford Rangers staan in elk geval Sondae daar met hulle blou klote wat aan die hak hang …).
Hierdie advertensiebord laat my onwillekeurig terugdink aan ‘n eks-kollega wat saam met sy vrou (wat in daardie stadium ‘n predikant in Stellenbosch was) op besoek in die VSA was. Haar kerk het die besoek gereël (‘n “studietoer” het hulle dit nogal genoem!). Met sy terugkoms het ek hom uitgevra oor die besoek. Hy was in vervoering oor die dienslewering van die Amerikaners. “Alles daar word as ‘n besigheid bedryf” sê hy. Ek vra hom uit oor die Kerk. Hy gooi sy hande in die lug en sê: “Die Kerk……”, aarsel ‘n oomblik en gaan dan voort, “In America, the Church is God’s business!”
Ek dink terug aan ‘n spesifieke insident paar dae gelede. Terwyl ek in McDonalds sit en op die gratis WiFi na ‘n plek soek om te slaap, luister ek na die groep ouerige boere wat by die tafel agter my sit en gesels. Een van die boere sê skielik: “Hide your wallet Jim, here are those people from the Church again…..”.
Ek kyk by die venster uit en sien die twee mans en hulle vrouens aangestap kom. (Wel ek neem maar aan dit is hulle vrouens….). Die manne is geklee in netjiese swart pakke. (Skilfers duidelik of die skouers sigbaar). Hare netjies agteroor gekam en “ge-gel”. Hulle loop met groot glimlagte. Tande spierwit gebleik. Groet almal. Skud blad met almal wat binne ‘n 10 meter radius van hulle kom. Pastor Ray op sy beste….
‘n Paar treë agter hulle loop die dames. Deftig. Roomkleurige snyerspakkies aan. Pienk lippies. Serpies styf om hulle dun nekkies gebind. Donkerbrille met goue insetsels op die skarniere. Hare styf “ge-perm”. Groot diamante aan hulle benerige vingers…. (Botox kon nog nooit ‘n vrou se ouderdom op haar hande wegsteek nie….)
Ek dink aan Herbert Raubenheimer se liedjie “Manne met Tanne”:
“Die Vingerswaaier
Preek dis gratis
Net ‘n kollekte nou
As dringend die behoefte
Manne met tanne
Kollekteer glimlaggend
Die note in vol vet sakke
Manne met tanne
Kollekteer so vriendelik
Die note in propvol sakke”
Later vandag sou ek die Amish in hulle perdekarretjies op die pad kry, en selfs hier en daar waarskuwingsborde oor hulle sien. By Hansens se supermark sou ek hulle raakloop. Net mooi die teenoorgestelde van Pastor Ray…
Later op my toer sien ek ‘n groepie Mennonites in die Michaux staatsbos. Hierdie groep kom oospronklik uit ‘n Friesland (‘n provinsie van Nederland as ek dit nou reg het…). Kate wat vir my in ‘n skinderstem vertel wie die eienaardige groepie is wat so deur die bos stap voeg by, “And they have strange accents….”
Ek kyk deur my notas en sien dat ek ‘n hele paar “geloofs-aantekeninge” gemaak het:
In South Dakota het ek ‘n dubbelle advertensiebord gesien. Die boonste gedeelte van die bord het gelees:
“Antiques”,
Die onderste gedeelte….
“Jesus is the answer!”
Dan het ‘n hele paar kerke gesien wat die internet as tema gebruik in hulle advertensies:
“Prayer, the fastest wireless connection in the world”
“Prayer: Wireless link to heaven”
(Het hulle Pinksterweek dalk nou vervang met Internetweek, wonder ek….?)
En ander weer:
“Please come in and get FREE eternal life”
“This Sunday: How should I handle criticism?”
“We love you Pastor + Sarah”
En…..
“Valley Church presents: JESUS” (Jesus is met gloeilampe gespel in tipiese Hollywood styl)
“Churville Lutherian Church: Come in… no experience needed”
Tussen Staunton en Cumberland sien ek ‘n pragtige kerk. Die Woodland Union Church.
Met my sin vir humor kan ek nie help om te wonder of “denominations” verwys na Rande, Roebels, Dollars en Euros nie…?
Maar dan is daar natuurlik ander gelowe in die VSA ook. Wel ek sou dink dit is die GROOT geloof in die VSA…..
Ek kan Pastor Ray al hoor bulder: “Do you FEEL the Love Brother?”
Ek ry vandag tussen Pittsburgh en Staunton. In een van die voorstede vang my oog die elektroniese advertensiebord wat lees” “Go Steelers”. Die Steelers is Pittburgh se NFL span so dit is per se nie snaaks nie. Wat wel vir my snaaks is, is waar die advertensie geplaas word. Ek stop, draai om en neem ‘n paar fotos.
Die bord adverteer onder andere die “Bucs” ook….
Maar as jy dit dalk nog nie raakgesien het nie…. Die advertensiebord is voor die St Hilary Katolieke Kerk! Ek wonder by myself hoe sal die “Go Bulls” teken voor die Waterkloofrif NG Kerk lyk? Met ‘n Bulls vlag natuurlik… (Wel die Ford Rangers staan in elk geval Sondae daar met hulle blou klote wat aan die hak hang …).
Hierdie advertensiebord laat my onwillekeurig terugdink aan ‘n eks-kollega wat saam met sy vrou (wat in daardie stadium ‘n predikant in Stellenbosch was) op besoek in die VSA was. Haar kerk het die besoek gereël (‘n “studietoer” het hulle dit nogal genoem!). Met sy terugkoms het ek hom uitgevra oor die besoek. Hy was in vervoering oor die dienslewering van die Amerikaners. “Alles daar word as ‘n besigheid bedryf” sê hy. Ek vra hom uit oor die Kerk. Hy gooi sy hande in die lug en sê: “Die Kerk……”, aarsel ‘n oomblik en gaan dan voort, “In America, the Church is God’s business!”
Ek dink terug aan ‘n spesifieke insident paar dae gelede. Terwyl ek in McDonalds sit en op die gratis WiFi na ‘n plek soek om te slaap, luister ek na die groep ouerige boere wat by die tafel agter my sit en gesels. Een van die boere sê skielik: “Hide your wallet Jim, here are those people from the Church again…..”.
Ek kyk by die venster uit en sien die twee mans en hulle vrouens aangestap kom. (Wel ek neem maar aan dit is hulle vrouens….). Die manne is geklee in netjiese swart pakke. (Skilfers duidelik of die skouers sigbaar). Hare netjies agteroor gekam en “ge-gel”. Hulle loop met groot glimlagte. Tande spierwit gebleik. Groet almal. Skud blad met almal wat binne ‘n 10 meter radius van hulle kom. Pastor Ray op sy beste….
‘n Paar treë agter hulle loop die dames. Deftig. Roomkleurige snyerspakkies aan. Pienk lippies. Serpies styf om hulle dun nekkies gebind. Donkerbrille met goue insetsels op die skarniere. Hare styf “ge-perm”. Groot diamante aan hulle benerige vingers…. (Botox kon nog nooit ‘n vrou se ouderdom op haar hande wegsteek nie….)
Ek dink aan Herbert Raubenheimer se liedjie “Manne met Tanne”:
“Die Vingerswaaier
Preek dis gratis
Net ‘n kollekte nou
As dringend die behoefte
Manne met tanne
Kollekteer glimlaggend
Die note in vol vet sakke
Manne met tanne
Kollekteer so vriendelik
Die note in propvol sakke”
Later vandag sou ek die Amish in hulle perdekarretjies op die pad kry, en selfs hier en daar waarskuwingsborde oor hulle sien. By Hansens se supermark sou ek hulle raakloop. Net mooi die teenoorgestelde van Pastor Ray…
Later op my toer sien ek ‘n groepie Mennonites in die Michaux staatsbos. Hierdie groep kom oospronklik uit ‘n Friesland (‘n provinsie van Nederland as ek dit nou reg het…). Kate wat vir my in ‘n skinderstem vertel wie die eienaardige groepie is wat so deur die bos stap voeg by, “And they have strange accents….”
Ek kyk deur my notas en sien dat ek ‘n hele paar “geloofs-aantekeninge” gemaak het:
In South Dakota het ek ‘n dubbelle advertensiebord gesien. Die boonste gedeelte van die bord het gelees:
“Antiques”,
Die onderste gedeelte….
“Jesus is the answer!”
Dan het ‘n hele paar kerke gesien wat die internet as tema gebruik in hulle advertensies:
“Prayer, the fastest wireless connection in the world”
“Prayer: Wireless link to heaven”
(Het hulle Pinksterweek dalk nou vervang met Internetweek, wonder ek….?)
En ander weer:
“Please come in and get FREE eternal life”
“This Sunday: How should I handle criticism?”
“We love you Pastor + Sarah”
En…..
“Valley Church presents: JESUS” (Jesus is met gloeilampe gespel in tipiese Hollywood styl)
“Churville Lutherian Church: Come in… no experience needed”
Tussen Staunton en Cumberland sien ek ‘n pragtige kerk. Die Woodland Union Church.
Met my sin vir humor kan ek nie help om te wonder of “denominations” verwys na Rande, Roebels, Dollars en Euros nie…?
Maar dan is daar natuurlik ander gelowe in die VSA ook. Wel ek sou dink dit is die GROOT geloof in die VSA…..
Ek kan Pastor Ray al hoor bulder: “Do you FEEL the Love Brother?”
Botox kon nog nooit ‘n vrou se ouderdom op haar hande wegsteek nie….)
Ja wragtag is so!!
Ja wragtag is so!!
- Joined
- May 4, 2015
- Messages
- 237
- Reaction score
- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
Day 16: Fort Wayne to Pittsburgh
Route: 30 East from Fort Wayne to Pittsburgh. Crossing from Ohio into West Virginia (at the Ohio River near East Liverpool) and then Crossing into Pennsylvania within a space of 10kms.
Today’s ride on Lincoln Highway passes through the small historic towns, which are tourist friendly but not overly “touristy”. I think it is also the first day that I don’t get an “Are you not tired of riding the bike yet?” WhatsApp message from Elmarie. Maybe she has finally accepted my wanderlust or she has started taking the Rivotril….. (When our GP gave me a long list of medication that I could take with me on the trip, I asked her as a joke to prescribe something for Elmarie. The pharmacist had a puzzled look when I explained that the “Checkers bag full of medication” was for my trip and the small bag with Rivotril was for Elmarie who must stay at home for three weeks….)
I leave early and take it slow in the thick morning mist. (Note the route numbers and see my comment on this further down.). The weather forecast is predicting rain for the rest of the week on my imaginary route towards Baltimore. I know that at some point I will have to make a diversion, to avoid the rain that is brought about by Hurricane Joaquin that is causing havoc along the coast.
There are many reminders along the road to be careful.
I spend much of the day reflecting on the joys of riding alone. It is simple: If you want to meet the locals, ride alone. People will naturally approach you and come and chat to you when you are alone. They will join you when you are sitting alone drinking a coffee and even invite you over for dinner. When two people are together, I think people keep their distance more and do not want to intrude. At one of the cafes where I stopped today, a guy joins me at the table. He is a big Yamaha fan and an even bigger Valentino Rossi fan. We talk about the WLF (Viva la Figa) on Valentino’s leathers. (Ag Mamma moet tog net nie uitvinne van Google Translate nie!). He asks whether South Africa also has any good bike riders. I explain that we have quite a few and explain that Valentino’s hero was actually the South African, Mike Hailwood (a.k.a. “Mike the Bike”). From what I've read, Mike could ride (both bikes and cars) and was as tough as nails. And legend has it that he was the one that taught James Hunt how to party!
As Pat suggested, I stick to the Lincoln Highway that passes through lots of small towns and historical landmarks, such as the first gas station in Minerva…
The other realization that I have today is that if you spend so much time in the saddle, you become one with the bike. The bike becomes an extension of your body. And you start to believe that you can ride like Mike the Bike…. “Ou Grootbeer sit en wag geduldig daar vir ons, fluit net af en toe saggies sodat ons met ons jakkalsdraaie nie die pad byster moet raak nie- ons hou ons hoeka partykeer aspris dom!”
Kopvrot? (Of gebruik hulle ook Tik?)
Coming back to my reference to the earlier on route markings in the US: Okay, this might be common knowledge to the average 6-year-old American….. But man, was I chuffed with myself when I figured out that even numbered routes run east-west and unevenly numbered routes run north-south! Putin was not that clever after all!
As you cross the Ohio River, you are greeted by a big sign that exclaims “West Virginia: Wild and Wonderful.”.
Pittsburgh is a surprise to me. For some reason I was expecting a dirty city with heavy industries. It is quite pleasant.
Route: 30 East from Fort Wayne to Pittsburgh. Crossing from Ohio into West Virginia (at the Ohio River near East Liverpool) and then Crossing into Pennsylvania within a space of 10kms.
Today’s ride on Lincoln Highway passes through the small historic towns, which are tourist friendly but not overly “touristy”. I think it is also the first day that I don’t get an “Are you not tired of riding the bike yet?” WhatsApp message from Elmarie. Maybe she has finally accepted my wanderlust or she has started taking the Rivotril….. (When our GP gave me a long list of medication that I could take with me on the trip, I asked her as a joke to prescribe something for Elmarie. The pharmacist had a puzzled look when I explained that the “Checkers bag full of medication” was for my trip and the small bag with Rivotril was for Elmarie who must stay at home for three weeks….)
I leave early and take it slow in the thick morning mist. (Note the route numbers and see my comment on this further down.). The weather forecast is predicting rain for the rest of the week on my imaginary route towards Baltimore. I know that at some point I will have to make a diversion, to avoid the rain that is brought about by Hurricane Joaquin that is causing havoc along the coast.
There are many reminders along the road to be careful.
I spend much of the day reflecting on the joys of riding alone. It is simple: If you want to meet the locals, ride alone. People will naturally approach you and come and chat to you when you are alone. They will join you when you are sitting alone drinking a coffee and even invite you over for dinner. When two people are together, I think people keep their distance more and do not want to intrude. At one of the cafes where I stopped today, a guy joins me at the table. He is a big Yamaha fan and an even bigger Valentino Rossi fan. We talk about the WLF (Viva la Figa) on Valentino’s leathers. (Ag Mamma moet tog net nie uitvinne van Google Translate nie!). He asks whether South Africa also has any good bike riders. I explain that we have quite a few and explain that Valentino’s hero was actually the South African, Mike Hailwood (a.k.a. “Mike the Bike”). From what I've read, Mike could ride (both bikes and cars) and was as tough as nails. And legend has it that he was the one that taught James Hunt how to party!
As Pat suggested, I stick to the Lincoln Highway that passes through lots of small towns and historical landmarks, such as the first gas station in Minerva…
The other realization that I have today is that if you spend so much time in the saddle, you become one with the bike. The bike becomes an extension of your body. And you start to believe that you can ride like Mike the Bike…. “Ou Grootbeer sit en wag geduldig daar vir ons, fluit net af en toe saggies sodat ons met ons jakkalsdraaie nie die pad byster moet raak nie- ons hou ons hoeka partykeer aspris dom!”
Kopvrot? (Of gebruik hulle ook Tik?)
Coming back to my reference to the earlier on route markings in the US: Okay, this might be common knowledge to the average 6-year-old American….. But man, was I chuffed with myself when I figured out that even numbered routes run east-west and unevenly numbered routes run north-south! Putin was not that clever after all!
As you cross the Ohio River, you are greeted by a big sign that exclaims “West Virginia: Wild and Wonderful.”.
Pittsburgh is a surprise to me. For some reason I was expecting a dirty city with heavy industries. It is quite pleasant.
- Joined
- May 4, 2015
- Messages
- 237
- Reaction score
- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
We've got Bears......
Hierdie woorde het ek 'n hele paar keer al op hierdie trip van my gehoor. Maar dit word nie net gesê nie. Dit gaan gewoonlik met 'n hele ritueel gepaard.
Ek staan en gesels met Steve en Kate langs ' n pragtige meer in die Michaux-bos in Pennsylvania. Op die klein skermpie van haar digitale kamera wys Kate vir my een van haar fotos. Die foto is uit fokus maar ek kan die die ratelslang sien. Sy vertel dat dié slange trek oor lang afstande saam in een nes om te oorwinter. Ek "hmmm" soos sy vertel maar is skepties oor hierdie gedagte en besluit om dit later te gaan opsoek...
(wikipedia)
"In the colder winter months, some rattlesnake species enter a period of brumation, which is similar to hibernation. They often gather together for brumation in large numbers (sometimes over 1000 snakes), huddling together inside rattlesnake dens or hibernacula".
En dan...
"Rattlesnakes often return to the same den year after year, sometimes travelling several miles to get there"
Nou ja, daar het jy dit Thomas!
Ek verduidelik vir Kate en Steve dat die enigste gevaar op hierdie trippie was bokkies (en ek verwys nie na Susanna met haar pienk mini rokkie daar in Ashford nie...) want ek het heelparty dooie bokkies langs die pad gekry. Steve val my in die rede met "That should only be a problem at night and early mornings and evenings. But in this forest you should be careful....." Kate val hóm weer in die rede. "Yes..." Sy los 'n pouse en maak seker dat ek vir haar kyk voor sy voortgaan. (En hier begin die ritueel…)
- Sy trek albei haar wenkbroue op,
- maak haar oë groot (amper soos wanneer Ouma vir jou 'n bangmaakstorie gaan vertel), en sê "We've got Bears".
- Sy los weer 'n pouse
- terwyl sy haar lippe styf teen mekaar druk
- en haar kop op en af beweeg.
'n Paar dae later ontmoet ek vir Alan by die ingangsportaal van die Best Western Holtel. Alan is een van die aangenaamste mense wat ek op die trip ontmoet het. Hy was al voorheen in Suid Afrika en vertel entosiasties van hulle avontuur. Hy praat vinnig en gee baie detail: van die eerste aand se oorslaap op 'n indrukwekkend gastehuis buite Ermelo op 'n plaas sowel as sy besoek aan Hluhluwe Nasionale Park. (Hy gee spesifiek aandag aan sy uitspraak van Hluhluwe en kry die "shh" mooi reg)
Anders as Kate is Alan se ritueel as volg:
- lig net een van sy wenkbroue
- trek sy ogies op skrefies wanneer hy vir my die "We've got Bears" bangmaak storie vertel.
- beweeg sy kop stadig op en af.
Ek het nou genoeg gehad van hierdie stories, val hom in die rede en trek weg met "Oh Alan you know what?" Ek gee hom kans om vir my te kyk "OUR Kalahari Lions will eat your Bears for breakfast. They will rip off their furry little coats and use it as rugs to lie on when they take their midday nap under a Camelthorn tree... Alan kyk verbaas aan maar ek is "on a roll" en gaan voort "And OUR Black Mambas will destroy your measly Rattlesnakes........" ek kyk hom stip in die die oë en net toe hy wil antwoord gaan ek voort "And OUR Buffalos will humiliate your top heavy Bisons......." " And OUR Gemsbok will make espetadas of your Moose....." "And OUR Crocodiles will eat your Alligators....." Alan kyk verbaas na my, maar ek rol voort...... "And OUR Rugby Team will.... " Ek bedink myself vinnig en ek glimlag. Alan sien vinnig my humour en begin lag en antwoord "Yes, yes I know, I have the seen the size of you Elephants and Rhinos as well....." . "And don't forget OUR Giraffes.....!" Voeg ek by.... Ons lag lekker......
Gelukkig wen ons daardie aand die Rugby teen die VSA 64-0.
Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika
Hierdie woorde het ek 'n hele paar keer al op hierdie trip van my gehoor. Maar dit word nie net gesê nie. Dit gaan gewoonlik met 'n hele ritueel gepaard.
Ek staan en gesels met Steve en Kate langs ' n pragtige meer in die Michaux-bos in Pennsylvania. Op die klein skermpie van haar digitale kamera wys Kate vir my een van haar fotos. Die foto is uit fokus maar ek kan die die ratelslang sien. Sy vertel dat dié slange trek oor lang afstande saam in een nes om te oorwinter. Ek "hmmm" soos sy vertel maar is skepties oor hierdie gedagte en besluit om dit later te gaan opsoek...
(wikipedia)
"In the colder winter months, some rattlesnake species enter a period of brumation, which is similar to hibernation. They often gather together for brumation in large numbers (sometimes over 1000 snakes), huddling together inside rattlesnake dens or hibernacula".
En dan...
"Rattlesnakes often return to the same den year after year, sometimes travelling several miles to get there"
Nou ja, daar het jy dit Thomas!
Ek verduidelik vir Kate en Steve dat die enigste gevaar op hierdie trippie was bokkies (en ek verwys nie na Susanna met haar pienk mini rokkie daar in Ashford nie...) want ek het heelparty dooie bokkies langs die pad gekry. Steve val my in die rede met "That should only be a problem at night and early mornings and evenings. But in this forest you should be careful....." Kate val hóm weer in die rede. "Yes..." Sy los 'n pouse en maak seker dat ek vir haar kyk voor sy voortgaan. (En hier begin die ritueel…)
- Sy trek albei haar wenkbroue op,
- maak haar oë groot (amper soos wanneer Ouma vir jou 'n bangmaakstorie gaan vertel), en sê "We've got Bears".
- Sy los weer 'n pouse
- terwyl sy haar lippe styf teen mekaar druk
- en haar kop op en af beweeg.
'n Paar dae later ontmoet ek vir Alan by die ingangsportaal van die Best Western Holtel. Alan is een van die aangenaamste mense wat ek op die trip ontmoet het. Hy was al voorheen in Suid Afrika en vertel entosiasties van hulle avontuur. Hy praat vinnig en gee baie detail: van die eerste aand se oorslaap op 'n indrukwekkend gastehuis buite Ermelo op 'n plaas sowel as sy besoek aan Hluhluwe Nasionale Park. (Hy gee spesifiek aandag aan sy uitspraak van Hluhluwe en kry die "shh" mooi reg)
Anders as Kate is Alan se ritueel as volg:
- lig net een van sy wenkbroue
- trek sy ogies op skrefies wanneer hy vir my die "We've got Bears" bangmaak storie vertel.
- beweeg sy kop stadig op en af.
Ek het nou genoeg gehad van hierdie stories, val hom in die rede en trek weg met "Oh Alan you know what?" Ek gee hom kans om vir my te kyk "OUR Kalahari Lions will eat your Bears for breakfast. They will rip off their furry little coats and use it as rugs to lie on when they take their midday nap under a Camelthorn tree... Alan kyk verbaas aan maar ek is "on a roll" en gaan voort "And OUR Black Mambas will destroy your measly Rattlesnakes........" ek kyk hom stip in die die oë en net toe hy wil antwoord gaan ek voort "And OUR Buffalos will humiliate your top heavy Bisons......." " And OUR Gemsbok will make espetadas of your Moose....." "And OUR Crocodiles will eat your Alligators....." Alan kyk verbaas na my, maar ek rol voort...... "And OUR Rugby Team will.... " Ek bedink myself vinnig en ek glimlag. Alan sien vinnig my humour en begin lag en antwoord "Yes, yes I know, I have the seen the size of you Elephants and Rhinos as well....." . "And don't forget OUR Giraffes.....!" Voeg ek by.... Ons lag lekker......
Gelukkig wen ons daardie aand die Rugby teen die VSA 64-0.
Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika
Small town USA is great i love it.
First shop i went into in the USA was in Berryville Virginia, one of those "van n poep tot n ploegskaar" shops you can buy anything!! They had a bucket system for payment. The cashier sits on a upper balcony type thing and your money gets winched by hand there and she sends the change down. And no the owner was not interested in getting a new cashier type thing!! This was in 1991.
First shop i went into in the USA was in Berryville Virginia, one of those "van n poep tot n ploegskaar" shops you can buy anything!! They had a bucket system for payment. The cashier sits on a upper balcony type thing and your money gets winched by hand there and she sends the change down. And no the owner was not interested in getting a new cashier type thing!! This was in 1991.
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Lees lekker saam, dankie!
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- BMW R1200GS Adventure
Day 17: Pittsburgh to Staunton
Route: 19 South onto 40 and Alt 40 to Cumberland. At Cumberland I decide to swing south on 220 to link up with 50 East. Then 50 to Winchester and then Interstate 81 south to Staunton.
I keep on checking yr.no and the possibility rain is on the increase. I decide to make a detour to the south because I see several green shaded areas which is indicative of national forests. The largest is the George Washington and Monongahela National Forests which flows into one another. This of course brings with it the possibility of seeing West Virginia’s early Fall colour palette.
My diversion loop is clearly shown on the tracked GPS route plotted onto Google Earth…
Before I leave the Super 8 motel, I decide to check on my FedEx parcel and phone the hotel in Baltimore. According to the lady at reception, it is not there yet. “This can’t be!” I think to myself and check the FedEx website and note that it was indeed delivered the previous day. Armed with the exact delivery time and the name of the person who signed for it, I called the hotel again. I get the “Okay, no wait, I will go and look for it…..” response from the same lady. After a while, she reverts nonchalantly with “Oh yes, the big black bag is here….”. Her lame response made me think of a bumper sticker that I saw yesterday: “It is such a nice day; please don’t fuck it up!”
A nursery next to the road……
The closer I get to the East coast the more Harley riders I meet on the road. I greet them but they don’t greet back. When I stop greeting, they start again. What’s going on with these guys? Is a rider on a “lesser motorcycle” (according to them) not allowed to greet first?
A Harley driver comes from the front, and I can see that one of his pannier bags is open. I point to the bag. He gives me the middle finger….. I couple of miles later I start seeing the contents of the open pannier scattered along the highway… I wonder how his finger is doing…?
Real men chew tobacco…
Taking a break next to the road, I notice an insect on my luggage bag. I think I know these little guys; they look just like our “stinkgoggas” and decide to keep my visor closed…… (See comment towards the end of this post).
Driving through the forest I get the smell of “pensmis” and slow down and then see the evidence. I pull over and after the third truck drives over the carcass I cannot stand it anymore. I walk into the road and start gathering all the different pieces, drag it out of the road and pack it together under a tree. I realize that my bright green bib is causing the traffic to come to a complete halt. Yeah, it is not the coolest thing to wear but a green or orange bib gets real respect in the US!
And another selfie…
The Fall colors is amazing…..
Cheese and water for lunch (served by the farmer’s daughter, of course) ….
Driving on I-81, I put “Da-Olda-Fait-a-fool” on cruise control. Despite my constant speed, I’m passed several times by a blue Mercury. The first time I notice that the spelling on his personalized number plate is quite odd. It reads “RICHERD”. That is quite an odd spelling of "Richard,” I think to myself. It’s only on about his 3rd “fly-by” that I am able to make a connection between the Stetson hat and the wannabe cowboy’s number plate …..
Checking into the hotel in Staunton, I notice the sign on the counter…. Ja wragtig dit is Stinkgoggas!
I could have added to Allen, “Yes and OUR “stinkgoaggas” smell a lot worse than your stink bugs.”
Route: 19 South onto 40 and Alt 40 to Cumberland. At Cumberland I decide to swing south on 220 to link up with 50 East. Then 50 to Winchester and then Interstate 81 south to Staunton.
I keep on checking yr.no and the possibility rain is on the increase. I decide to make a detour to the south because I see several green shaded areas which is indicative of national forests. The largest is the George Washington and Monongahela National Forests which flows into one another. This of course brings with it the possibility of seeing West Virginia’s early Fall colour palette.
My diversion loop is clearly shown on the tracked GPS route plotted onto Google Earth…
Before I leave the Super 8 motel, I decide to check on my FedEx parcel and phone the hotel in Baltimore. According to the lady at reception, it is not there yet. “This can’t be!” I think to myself and check the FedEx website and note that it was indeed delivered the previous day. Armed with the exact delivery time and the name of the person who signed for it, I called the hotel again. I get the “Okay, no wait, I will go and look for it…..” response from the same lady. After a while, she reverts nonchalantly with “Oh yes, the big black bag is here….”. Her lame response made me think of a bumper sticker that I saw yesterday: “It is such a nice day; please don’t fuck it up!”
A nursery next to the road……
The closer I get to the East coast the more Harley riders I meet on the road. I greet them but they don’t greet back. When I stop greeting, they start again. What’s going on with these guys? Is a rider on a “lesser motorcycle” (according to them) not allowed to greet first?
A Harley driver comes from the front, and I can see that one of his pannier bags is open. I point to the bag. He gives me the middle finger….. I couple of miles later I start seeing the contents of the open pannier scattered along the highway… I wonder how his finger is doing…?
Real men chew tobacco…
Taking a break next to the road, I notice an insect on my luggage bag. I think I know these little guys; they look just like our “stinkgoggas” and decide to keep my visor closed…… (See comment towards the end of this post).
Driving through the forest I get the smell of “pensmis” and slow down and then see the evidence. I pull over and after the third truck drives over the carcass I cannot stand it anymore. I walk into the road and start gathering all the different pieces, drag it out of the road and pack it together under a tree. I realize that my bright green bib is causing the traffic to come to a complete halt. Yeah, it is not the coolest thing to wear but a green or orange bib gets real respect in the US!
And another selfie…
The Fall colors is amazing…..
Cheese and water for lunch (served by the farmer’s daughter, of course) ….
Driving on I-81, I put “Da-Olda-Fait-a-fool” on cruise control. Despite my constant speed, I’m passed several times by a blue Mercury. The first time I notice that the spelling on his personalized number plate is quite odd. It reads “RICHERD”. That is quite an odd spelling of "Richard,” I think to myself. It’s only on about his 3rd “fly-by” that I am able to make a connection between the Stetson hat and the wannabe cowboy’s number plate …..
Checking into the hotel in Staunton, I notice the sign on the counter…. Ja wragtig dit is Stinkgoggas!
I could have added to Allen, “Yes and OUR “stinkgoaggas” smell a lot worse than your stink bugs.”
- Joined
- May 4, 2015
- Messages
- 237
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- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
Gomgatte. Jy kry hulle oral.
Ek stop in Bartow en gooi petrol in.
……………
Ek betaal en ry net oor die pad en stop in die koelte voor die plaaslike hardeware/ drank/laundromat/video-winkel. Een van daai alles-in-een-winkels wat mens op die platteland kry. Daar waar jy nog 'n Okapi knipmes sal kan kry.....
………………..
Die blou Ford Taurus SE stop in 'n stofwolk langs my.
Die vrou klim uit.
Sy bliksem die kar se deur toe.
Die man bly sit.
Hy laat die Ford luier.
Sy stap na die ingang en trek haar T-hemp oor haar groterige boude.
Haar denimbroek se soom is uitgerafel.
………
Ek kry die reuk.
Dit kom uit die Taurus.
Ek kén daai soet reuk.
Die Ford is verniel en "idle" oneweredig.
Elke nou en dan "rev" die ou hom as dit klink of die dink wil vrek.
........
Ek tik my volgende bestemming op die GPS in.
Huttonsville.
Ek hoor 'n kind hoes.
So tipiese toebors-asmahoesie.
Ek sien die twee klein dogterjies op die agtersitplek.
Ek kyk na die man.
Hy vat 'n land trêk aan sy zol.
Sy groen oë is waserig.
Dit lyk soos die oë van 'n mofhammel.
Sy lang hare is olierig.
…….
Sy kom uit die winkel gestap.
Trek weer aan die T- hemp.
Hierdie keer oor haar groterige maag.
Sy klim in en bliksem weer die deur toe.
"Did ya geddit?" Blaf hy vir haar.
No.
Stilte.
Dan weer die asmahoesie.
........
Let's check across the road. Sê sy.
Hy spin die wiele op die stukkie grond voor hy met 'n "tjeeeet" geluid die teer vat.
Die fanbelt skreeu soos 'n honger jakkals.
Die stofwolk hang in die lug.
......
Arme kinders dink ek.
…..
"Rôbbies" sou my Ouma Bettie sê.
"Gomgatte" sou my broer sê.
"Bokslagters" sou my Ma sê.
"Ducktail" sou my Pa sê.
"Takhaar" sou my Oupa sê.
……..
Miskien is die groenoogmofhammel familie van die Wes-Transvaal se Tarre ?
Ek stop in Bartow en gooi petrol in.
……………
Ek betaal en ry net oor die pad en stop in die koelte voor die plaaslike hardeware/ drank/laundromat/video-winkel. Een van daai alles-in-een-winkels wat mens op die platteland kry. Daar waar jy nog 'n Okapi knipmes sal kan kry.....
………………..
Die blou Ford Taurus SE stop in 'n stofwolk langs my.
Die vrou klim uit.
Sy bliksem die kar se deur toe.
Die man bly sit.
Hy laat die Ford luier.
Sy stap na die ingang en trek haar T-hemp oor haar groterige boude.
Haar denimbroek se soom is uitgerafel.
………
Ek kry die reuk.
Dit kom uit die Taurus.
Ek kén daai soet reuk.
Die Ford is verniel en "idle" oneweredig.
Elke nou en dan "rev" die ou hom as dit klink of die dink wil vrek.
........
Ek tik my volgende bestemming op die GPS in.
Huttonsville.
Ek hoor 'n kind hoes.
So tipiese toebors-asmahoesie.
Ek sien die twee klein dogterjies op die agtersitplek.
Ek kyk na die man.
Hy vat 'n land trêk aan sy zol.
Sy groen oë is waserig.
Dit lyk soos die oë van 'n mofhammel.
Sy lang hare is olierig.
…….
Sy kom uit die winkel gestap.
Trek weer aan die T- hemp.
Hierdie keer oor haar groterige maag.
Sy klim in en bliksem weer die deur toe.
"Did ya geddit?" Blaf hy vir haar.
No.
Stilte.
Dan weer die asmahoesie.
........
Let's check across the road. Sê sy.
Hy spin die wiele op die stukkie grond voor hy met 'n "tjeeeet" geluid die teer vat.
Die fanbelt skreeu soos 'n honger jakkals.
Die stofwolk hang in die lug.
......
Arme kinders dink ek.
…..
"Rôbbies" sou my Ouma Bettie sê.
"Gomgatte" sou my broer sê.
"Bokslagters" sou my Ma sê.
"Ducktail" sou my Pa sê.
"Takhaar" sou my Oupa sê.
……..
Miskien is die groenoogmofhammel familie van die Wes-Transvaal se Tarre ?
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- May 4, 2015
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- Reaction score
- 260
- Bike
- BMW R1200GS Adventure
IT IS NOT ABOUT THE BIKE
"Jy gaan nog daai trip doen?" Het sy gevra en met haar geswelde vingers in my rigting gewys. Ek het net kop geknik, geglimlag en geantwoord "Ja Sussa ek gaan hom doen…."
Dit was 2014. Twee maande later het die kanker haar kom haal.
Nou is dit twee dae voordat ek by my eindbestemming van “Daai trip” sal aankom. 17 dae reeds op die pad. Orkaan Joachin het my van rigting laat verander. Vanaf Cumberland het ek gemik na Winchester en vandaar Interstate 81 suid gevolg. In my agterkop het ek geweet dat die bekende "Tail of the Dragon" lê iewers verder suid op hierdie roete. Hierdie bekende pas lê op die grens van Noord Carolina en Tenessee en met sy "318 curves in 11 miles" is hy baie gewild onder motorfietsryers. Ek is nie eintlik iemand wat stickers/yskasmagnete of T-hemde van bekende landmerke bymekaarmaak nie. As ek by die Dragon uitkom is dit 'n bonus. Indien nie sal dit my nie juis pla nie. Vir my gaan dit oor die reis, nie die eindbestemming nie. My ervaring op die Beartooth-pas het my in elk geval laat verstaan wat "sharp bends and curves" in die Amerikaanse konteks eintlik maar beteken dat jy sukkel om 'n 500kg Harley deur die draaie te kry. Amper soos om vir Os du Randt op volle vaart van rigting te laat veranders. Na 426km en 6h34 op die pad stap ek by die Sleep Inn in Staunton se deur in.
Die volgende dag "Dag 18" in my notaboek sou een van die mooiste dae op my roete wees. Ook die een met die meeste emosie. Maar as ek nou so deur my notas lees is daar maar min notas op dag 18. Die dag se gebeure is egter duidelik in my gedagtes vas ge-ets. Ek kan my opgewondenheid vroeg die oggend onthou toe ek die dou met my hotelhandoek van my motorfiets se saal afgevee het. Amper soos 'n mens 'n perd sal roskam het ek die tenk en winskerm afgevryf. My beplanning wat ek gisteraand vir vandag se roete gedoen het het gewys dat die Tail of the Dragon te vêr suid lê en ek het 'n roete beplan wat eers wes en dan weer noord sou swaai. Wes via Churchville, Wes Augusta, Monterey, Bartow, Durbin, Huttonsville, Mill Creek, Bowden en verder noord tot by Cumberland.
Ek wil sovêr moontlik deur die natuurlike bos ry om die herfservaring te kry. Dit is ook nie lank na my vertrek uit Staunton dat ek die eerste woude begin kry nie. Die verandering in temperatuur en reuke wat mens op 'n motorfiets ervaar is besonders. My gunsteling reuk bly maar die van vars gesaagde houtstompe.
Ek bewonder nog die hersfkleure en dan uit die hoek van my oog sien ek hulle. Nee dit kan nie waar wees nie! Ek trek die remme dat die ABS sy karrekteristieke Parkinsons rukbewegings gee. Ek maak 'n U-draai. Die wit lyf en die rooibruin koppe is onmiskenbaar Boerbok. Ek tel hulle so vinnig. Meer as 20 staan daar. Net een bruine. Sover my kennis strek is hierdie bok in Suid Afrika geteel maar ek onderneem om maar die detail via Google te gaan soek. (My latere Google soektog beweer dat die bokke eers na Australie en toe vandaar na die VSA gebring is. Die Suid-Afrikaanse migrasie na Aus is dus deur Boerbokke begin! )
Ek neem haastig 'n paar fotos. 'n Mooi rammetjie staan nader, amper asof hy kan ruik dat ek ook uit Afrika kom. Ek kyk vir hom en sê: "Ek ken jou, jou bliksem! Ek weet jy hou daarvan om voor 'n kar of motorfiets oor die pad te hardloop. As daar 'n paar Boerbokke langs die pad staan as jy in die verte aankom en een het reeds oor die pad gehardloop dan kan jy maar weet een van die ander gaan dit ook doen. Maar hy wag mos totdat jy so 15 tree van hom af is.....
Die oggendlug is koel en die wolkies begin saampak bokant my kop. Langs die pad is daar bordjies soos "Joe Dykes: August 15, 1982 - May 17, 2005" wat my herinner om versigtig te ry. Elkeen het maar sy manier om sy geliefdes te onthou.
'n Ent verder op 'n plaaswerf staan daar 'n ou Ford F250 op 'n sleepwa waarop daar met 'n spuitkannetjie geverf is "In loving memory of Nubert Ricks SR" geverf is. Die SR is met oranje doodgeverf en ek kan nie help om te wonder of hierdie ‘n ware huldeblyk aan Nubert is nie en of dit dalk ‘n tipe sarkastiese stelling is nie. M.a.w. of dit Nubert se gunsteling Ford is wat hulle hier op die gras parkeer het nie. Of het Nubert dalk so baie aan hierdie blêddie Ford staan en werk het dat sy vrou maar besluit het om die trok maar daar op die gras te laat staan om te wys waar sy liefde eintlik was nie….?
Ek stop 'n paar keer langs die pad en stap 'n draai in die bos. Die groot verskeindenheid sampioene val my op. In 'n vierkante meter sien ek soveel as 5 verskillende soorte. Hier en daar sien ek ook "mushroom hunters" wat in die bos loop en sekere soorte bymekaarmaak.
het so 5km gelede uit 'n plaas paadjie by die hoofpad aangesluit. Daar is ‘n ouerige man agter die stuur en hy stop sy Honda net soos 'n boer sal stop: Die helfte van die kar staan nog in die pad, en los sy deur oop. Die gryskop tannie bly in die kar sit maar hy klim uit. Ek staan met my kamera en notaboekie in die hand. Ek maak maar seker dat hy sien dit is 'n kamera in my hand. Mens weet nooit of hierdie boer dalk nie hou van vreemdelinge wat op sy plaas stop hou nie (Verál al nie na ek in Cabelas en Wallmart gesien het hoe vrylik beskikbaar wapens en ammunisie in hierdie land is nie...).
Hy kom nadergestap en sy liggamsbou en vooroor manier van stap herinner my aan my Oupa. Ek groet eerste met "Good morning Sir..." Op sy gesig kan ek sien dat my aksent vir hom vreemd is. Hy steek sy hand uit en gee my ‘n stewige handdruk en sê "Bruce. Bruce Wigglesworth". Sonder om my kans te gee gaan hy voort met "I saw you chased up a couple of wild turkey a few of miles back" en hy lag vriendelik terwyl hy aan sy pet vat. "Oh yeah I saw them...." Hy gaan voort met "Do you ride alone?" "Yeah, I do...." antwoord ek. Hy trek weg en vertel my dat hy 'n 660 Yamaha ry. Ek vra hom uit en hy sê dat die Super Tenere te groot is vir hom. In sy opgewondendenheid vertel hy dat hy altyd saam met sy broer wat 'n jaar ouer as hy is gery het. Hy rammel sy broer se fietse af: van 'n Honda Goldwing (the "Big One" soos hy dit noem) tot 'n paar Harleys maar nou ry sy broer 'n "scooter" so hulle kan nie meer saam ry nie. Hy lyk opgewonde en vra " Do you ride here often?" Ek begin antwoord met "Oh no this is my first time in the area....." Maar voor ek kan byvoeg “and probably my last time….” gaan hy voort met "I'm looking for a riding partner........ and you ride about my pace...."
Ek begin verduidelik dat ek omtrent 9000myl van hier af bly.... Ek kan die teleurstelling in sy oë sien. Ek vra hoe oud hy is en hy antwoord "I'm 86 years old......" (Onwillekeurig eggo die "you ride about my pace...." in my gedagtes!!!!)
Ek stap om die motor en groet die tannie. "He is from Africa" sê Bruce toe ek myself aan haar voorstel. Sy bied sommer dadelik slaapplek vir die aand aan….
Ek ry verder op 250 en sien 'n mooi afdraai. Die bordjie lees "Birding and Wildlife trail".
Die grondpad is 'n tipe kleigrond. Die pad is nat en en hier en daar is dit opgevul met gruisklippies. Ek stop maar en sit die ABS af en gee vet teen die bult op. Die 601 roete kronkel teen die bult op en hier en daar gly die agterwiel maar soos Pieter Pieterse altyd gesê het "Nou nie so dat 'n man dit sal agterkom nie". Die pad vertak na links maar ek hou reguit aan deur 'n laning bome. Die pad is besaai met pragtige herfsblare.
Die pad vertak weer. Ek stop en kyk oor my skouer. Ek is nou hoog genoeg om oor die grootste gedeelte van die George Wahington en Monongahela bos te kyk. Voor my is 'n stuk ontbosde veld. My GPS dui aan dat ek op die grens tussen Virginia en Wes Virginia staan. "Jip dit is presies die plek waarna ek gesoek het" sê ek vir myself. Die grond is nat en ongelyk en ek moet versiftig werk om die swaargelaaide fiets staan te maak. Met my linkervoet wig ek 'n platterige klip onder die “sidestand” in. Versigtig klim ek af....
Die afgesaagde stomp lyk vir my na die ideale plek om 'n altaartjie te bou. Bo op die boomstomp sal die klistapel sigbaar bly selfs al lê die sneeu lekker dik in die winter. Die stomp gee ook 'n mooi uitsig oot die vallei. Ek kyk rond op soek na 'n paar klippers. Ek sien 'n lekker groot klip wat ek as basis sal gebruik. Hy is vir Ma en Pa. Ek pak nog 'n klip. Hierdie een is vir Petro. Die volgende een is vir Albert.
Ek staan ‘n tree terug en sê: “Ek het mos belowe ek gaan dit trip doen Sussa....”
"Behoed my as ek my gaan neerlê,
Grote God, wat altyd waak.
O, beskerm my deur U Almag
as die kwade my genaak.
O, vergeef my al my sondes,
dan lê ek my hofie neer.
Dood of hel sal ek nie vrees nie
want U is my rotssteen, Heer.
Neem my ouers en my vriende
in bewaring hierdie nag.
Môre dank ons U vir goedheid,
gawe van 'n nuwe dag."
Ek stap na die motorfiets om my kamera te kry. My hande is bewerig en ek sukkel om by die “timer setting” uit te kom. Dan val die eertse druppels. “Ek sal moet gou maak om nog my reënjas ook aan te trek”, dink ek. Die kameraskerm raak wasering…. Ek kyk op na die wolkies en kom dan eers agter dat die “reëndruppels” val net aan die binnekant van my bril….. Ek stel die kamera op en neem ‘n paar fotos van my voor die altaartjie.
Dan pak ek nog 'n paar klippers: vir Elmarie, Skoonma, Skoonpa, swaer Cheetah, Dalene, Amore, Pieter, René, Leandri, Lindi, Reghardt...... Ek beweeg vinnig heen en weer om klippe aan te dra. Amper soos 'n mier.
Ek stap terug na die fiets toe en haal die serp uit my pannier. Hierdie serp ry ek nou al vir 18 dae saam met my. Hy was saam met my toe ek die fiets gaan optel het, saam met my by Neah Bay, saam met my by Albertstraat in Port Angeles en ook by die REO Speedwagon konsert. Ek vou die serp versigtig oop en drapeer dit om die klipstapel. Dit was Albert se serp…
Ek pak nog 'n paar klippies vir Theo (so wyd soos die Heer se genade..), Theuns (die groot siloman met die klein hartjie). Jaco en Arie wat ook die kankerspook in die oë moes kyk. Bertie wat met die elektronika kon toor. Die laaste klippie pak ek vir Kate, ' n skoolvriendin van ons wat spesiaal gevra het ek moet vir haar ook 'n klippie pak. Ek neem nog n paar fotos en gaan sit rustig om die landskap vir die laaste keer in te neem.
Voor ek op my fiets klim merk ek die GPS Baken as APMPJE op Putin, vir ingeval iemand anders dalk daar verbykom en ‘n paar wil klippers pak….
N 38 27' 18.4"
W 79 41' 09.3"
1283m Elevation
250 or Mountain Turnpike
601 Public Road 55
Monongahela National Forest / George Washington national Forest
PS: The story above describes the events of Day 18. For those who do not understand Afrikaans, this is the trend:
I got the idea of riding across the US when I followed Pat McVay’s daily posts as he made his way across the US on a bicycle in 1998. When my sister went into remission we talked about “things we still want to do in life”. I told her about Pat’s epic ride and that he did it in memory of his sister who died of cancer. (Pat gave his race ID card to his nephew at the end of his trip). Petro listened carefully and said that it was a remarkable story and that I should do the trip…..
When Vaughn and I sat on my porch in Cape Town we plotted a rough route of how we can do this on a ‘bike. I told Petro that I’ve started to plan the trip and the last thing she ever asked me was “Are you are still going to do the trip?….” When I shared that with Pat and Rosie in Chicago it was like a mountain of my shoulders….
The planning started in earnest I made sure that I would pass through Chicago to visit Pat and Rosie. On my “T-minus 30” trip which I did one month before the trip I planned a long ride form Cape Town to Johannesburg and the next weekend from Johannesburg back to Cape Town. On the way back my plan was to stop and say goodbye to my family. Then disaster struck and my brother (Albert) had a massive heart attack and passed away during that week. The trip was in the balance, but I decided to proceed and took one of Albert’s scarfs with me on the trip.
On Day 18 I found a great spot to stack a couple of rocks in memory of Petro, Albert as well as friends and family.
The GPS coordinates and maps for my stack of rocks is in this post. Just in case one of you passes through the area and wants to stack some rocks for a loved one… Come in Mr Zog, you are the closest?
So, in short…. The trip really was not about the bike…
"Jy gaan nog daai trip doen?" Het sy gevra en met haar geswelde vingers in my rigting gewys. Ek het net kop geknik, geglimlag en geantwoord "Ja Sussa ek gaan hom doen…."
Dit was 2014. Twee maande later het die kanker haar kom haal.
Nou is dit twee dae voordat ek by my eindbestemming van “Daai trip” sal aankom. 17 dae reeds op die pad. Orkaan Joachin het my van rigting laat verander. Vanaf Cumberland het ek gemik na Winchester en vandaar Interstate 81 suid gevolg. In my agterkop het ek geweet dat die bekende "Tail of the Dragon" lê iewers verder suid op hierdie roete. Hierdie bekende pas lê op die grens van Noord Carolina en Tenessee en met sy "318 curves in 11 miles" is hy baie gewild onder motorfietsryers. Ek is nie eintlik iemand wat stickers/yskasmagnete of T-hemde van bekende landmerke bymekaarmaak nie. As ek by die Dragon uitkom is dit 'n bonus. Indien nie sal dit my nie juis pla nie. Vir my gaan dit oor die reis, nie die eindbestemming nie. My ervaring op die Beartooth-pas het my in elk geval laat verstaan wat "sharp bends and curves" in die Amerikaanse konteks eintlik maar beteken dat jy sukkel om 'n 500kg Harley deur die draaie te kry. Amper soos om vir Os du Randt op volle vaart van rigting te laat veranders. Na 426km en 6h34 op die pad stap ek by die Sleep Inn in Staunton se deur in.
Die volgende dag "Dag 18" in my notaboek sou een van die mooiste dae op my roete wees. Ook die een met die meeste emosie. Maar as ek nou so deur my notas lees is daar maar min notas op dag 18. Die dag se gebeure is egter duidelik in my gedagtes vas ge-ets. Ek kan my opgewondenheid vroeg die oggend onthou toe ek die dou met my hotelhandoek van my motorfiets se saal afgevee het. Amper soos 'n mens 'n perd sal roskam het ek die tenk en winskerm afgevryf. My beplanning wat ek gisteraand vir vandag se roete gedoen het het gewys dat die Tail of the Dragon te vêr suid lê en ek het 'n roete beplan wat eers wes en dan weer noord sou swaai. Wes via Churchville, Wes Augusta, Monterey, Bartow, Durbin, Huttonsville, Mill Creek, Bowden en verder noord tot by Cumberland.
Ek wil sovêr moontlik deur die natuurlike bos ry om die herfservaring te kry. Dit is ook nie lank na my vertrek uit Staunton dat ek die eerste woude begin kry nie. Die verandering in temperatuur en reuke wat mens op 'n motorfiets ervaar is besonders. My gunsteling reuk bly maar die van vars gesaagde houtstompe.
Ek bewonder nog die hersfkleure en dan uit die hoek van my oog sien ek hulle. Nee dit kan nie waar wees nie! Ek trek die remme dat die ABS sy karrekteristieke Parkinsons rukbewegings gee. Ek maak 'n U-draai. Die wit lyf en die rooibruin koppe is onmiskenbaar Boerbok. Ek tel hulle so vinnig. Meer as 20 staan daar. Net een bruine. Sover my kennis strek is hierdie bok in Suid Afrika geteel maar ek onderneem om maar die detail via Google te gaan soek. (My latere Google soektog beweer dat die bokke eers na Australie en toe vandaar na die VSA gebring is. Die Suid-Afrikaanse migrasie na Aus is dus deur Boerbokke begin! )
Ek neem haastig 'n paar fotos. 'n Mooi rammetjie staan nader, amper asof hy kan ruik dat ek ook uit Afrika kom. Ek kyk vir hom en sê: "Ek ken jou, jou bliksem! Ek weet jy hou daarvan om voor 'n kar of motorfiets oor die pad te hardloop. As daar 'n paar Boerbokke langs die pad staan as jy in die verte aankom en een het reeds oor die pad gehardloop dan kan jy maar weet een van die ander gaan dit ook doen. Maar hy wag mos totdat jy so 15 tree van hom af is.....
Die oggendlug is koel en die wolkies begin saampak bokant my kop. Langs die pad is daar bordjies soos "Joe Dykes: August 15, 1982 - May 17, 2005" wat my herinner om versigtig te ry. Elkeen het maar sy manier om sy geliefdes te onthou.
'n Ent verder op 'n plaaswerf staan daar 'n ou Ford F250 op 'n sleepwa waarop daar met 'n spuitkannetjie geverf is "In loving memory of Nubert Ricks SR" geverf is. Die SR is met oranje doodgeverf en ek kan nie help om te wonder of hierdie ‘n ware huldeblyk aan Nubert is nie en of dit dalk ‘n tipe sarkastiese stelling is nie. M.a.w. of dit Nubert se gunsteling Ford is wat hulle hier op die gras parkeer het nie. Of het Nubert dalk so baie aan hierdie blêddie Ford staan en werk het dat sy vrou maar besluit het om die trok maar daar op die gras te laat staan om te wys waar sy liefde eintlik was nie….?
Ek stop 'n paar keer langs die pad en stap 'n draai in die bos. Die groot verskeindenheid sampioene val my op. In 'n vierkante meter sien ek soveel as 5 verskillende soorte. Hier en daar sien ek ook "mushroom hunters" wat in die bos loop en sekere soorte bymekaarmaak.
het so 5km gelede uit 'n plaas paadjie by die hoofpad aangesluit. Daar is ‘n ouerige man agter die stuur en hy stop sy Honda net soos 'n boer sal stop: Die helfte van die kar staan nog in die pad, en los sy deur oop. Die gryskop tannie bly in die kar sit maar hy klim uit. Ek staan met my kamera en notaboekie in die hand. Ek maak maar seker dat hy sien dit is 'n kamera in my hand. Mens weet nooit of hierdie boer dalk nie hou van vreemdelinge wat op sy plaas stop hou nie (Verál al nie na ek in Cabelas en Wallmart gesien het hoe vrylik beskikbaar wapens en ammunisie in hierdie land is nie...).
Hy kom nadergestap en sy liggamsbou en vooroor manier van stap herinner my aan my Oupa. Ek groet eerste met "Good morning Sir..." Op sy gesig kan ek sien dat my aksent vir hom vreemd is. Hy steek sy hand uit en gee my ‘n stewige handdruk en sê "Bruce. Bruce Wigglesworth". Sonder om my kans te gee gaan hy voort met "I saw you chased up a couple of wild turkey a few of miles back" en hy lag vriendelik terwyl hy aan sy pet vat. "Oh yeah I saw them...." Hy gaan voort met "Do you ride alone?" "Yeah, I do...." antwoord ek. Hy trek weg en vertel my dat hy 'n 660 Yamaha ry. Ek vra hom uit en hy sê dat die Super Tenere te groot is vir hom. In sy opgewondendenheid vertel hy dat hy altyd saam met sy broer wat 'n jaar ouer as hy is gery het. Hy rammel sy broer se fietse af: van 'n Honda Goldwing (the "Big One" soos hy dit noem) tot 'n paar Harleys maar nou ry sy broer 'n "scooter" so hulle kan nie meer saam ry nie. Hy lyk opgewonde en vra " Do you ride here often?" Ek begin antwoord met "Oh no this is my first time in the area....." Maar voor ek kan byvoeg “and probably my last time….” gaan hy voort met "I'm looking for a riding partner........ and you ride about my pace...."
Ek begin verduidelik dat ek omtrent 9000myl van hier af bly.... Ek kan die teleurstelling in sy oë sien. Ek vra hoe oud hy is en hy antwoord "I'm 86 years old......" (Onwillekeurig eggo die "you ride about my pace...." in my gedagtes!!!!)
Ek stap om die motor en groet die tannie. "He is from Africa" sê Bruce toe ek myself aan haar voorstel. Sy bied sommer dadelik slaapplek vir die aand aan….
Ek ry verder op 250 en sien 'n mooi afdraai. Die bordjie lees "Birding and Wildlife trail".
Die grondpad is 'n tipe kleigrond. Die pad is nat en en hier en daar is dit opgevul met gruisklippies. Ek stop maar en sit die ABS af en gee vet teen die bult op. Die 601 roete kronkel teen die bult op en hier en daar gly die agterwiel maar soos Pieter Pieterse altyd gesê het "Nou nie so dat 'n man dit sal agterkom nie". Die pad vertak na links maar ek hou reguit aan deur 'n laning bome. Die pad is besaai met pragtige herfsblare.
Die pad vertak weer. Ek stop en kyk oor my skouer. Ek is nou hoog genoeg om oor die grootste gedeelte van die George Wahington en Monongahela bos te kyk. Voor my is 'n stuk ontbosde veld. My GPS dui aan dat ek op die grens tussen Virginia en Wes Virginia staan. "Jip dit is presies die plek waarna ek gesoek het" sê ek vir myself. Die grond is nat en ongelyk en ek moet versiftig werk om die swaargelaaide fiets staan te maak. Met my linkervoet wig ek 'n platterige klip onder die “sidestand” in. Versigtig klim ek af....
Die afgesaagde stomp lyk vir my na die ideale plek om 'n altaartjie te bou. Bo op die boomstomp sal die klistapel sigbaar bly selfs al lê die sneeu lekker dik in die winter. Die stomp gee ook 'n mooi uitsig oot die vallei. Ek kyk rond op soek na 'n paar klippers. Ek sien 'n lekker groot klip wat ek as basis sal gebruik. Hy is vir Ma en Pa. Ek pak nog 'n klip. Hierdie een is vir Petro. Die volgende een is vir Albert.
Ek staan ‘n tree terug en sê: “Ek het mos belowe ek gaan dit trip doen Sussa....”
"Behoed my as ek my gaan neerlê,
Grote God, wat altyd waak.
O, beskerm my deur U Almag
as die kwade my genaak.
O, vergeef my al my sondes,
dan lê ek my hofie neer.
Dood of hel sal ek nie vrees nie
want U is my rotssteen, Heer.
Neem my ouers en my vriende
in bewaring hierdie nag.
Môre dank ons U vir goedheid,
gawe van 'n nuwe dag."
Ek stap na die motorfiets om my kamera te kry. My hande is bewerig en ek sukkel om by die “timer setting” uit te kom. Dan val die eertse druppels. “Ek sal moet gou maak om nog my reënjas ook aan te trek”, dink ek. Die kameraskerm raak wasering…. Ek kyk op na die wolkies en kom dan eers agter dat die “reëndruppels” val net aan die binnekant van my bril….. Ek stel die kamera op en neem ‘n paar fotos van my voor die altaartjie.
Dan pak ek nog 'n paar klippers: vir Elmarie, Skoonma, Skoonpa, swaer Cheetah, Dalene, Amore, Pieter, René, Leandri, Lindi, Reghardt...... Ek beweeg vinnig heen en weer om klippe aan te dra. Amper soos 'n mier.
Ek stap terug na die fiets toe en haal die serp uit my pannier. Hierdie serp ry ek nou al vir 18 dae saam met my. Hy was saam met my toe ek die fiets gaan optel het, saam met my by Neah Bay, saam met my by Albertstraat in Port Angeles en ook by die REO Speedwagon konsert. Ek vou die serp versigtig oop en drapeer dit om die klipstapel. Dit was Albert se serp…
Ek pak nog 'n paar klippies vir Theo (so wyd soos die Heer se genade..), Theuns (die groot siloman met die klein hartjie). Jaco en Arie wat ook die kankerspook in die oë moes kyk. Bertie wat met die elektronika kon toor. Die laaste klippie pak ek vir Kate, ' n skoolvriendin van ons wat spesiaal gevra het ek moet vir haar ook 'n klippie pak. Ek neem nog n paar fotos en gaan sit rustig om die landskap vir die laaste keer in te neem.
Voor ek op my fiets klim merk ek die GPS Baken as APMPJE op Putin, vir ingeval iemand anders dalk daar verbykom en ‘n paar wil klippers pak….
N 38 27' 18.4"
W 79 41' 09.3"
1283m Elevation
250 or Mountain Turnpike
601 Public Road 55
Monongahela National Forest / George Washington national Forest
PS: The story above describes the events of Day 18. For those who do not understand Afrikaans, this is the trend:
I got the idea of riding across the US when I followed Pat McVay’s daily posts as he made his way across the US on a bicycle in 1998. When my sister went into remission we talked about “things we still want to do in life”. I told her about Pat’s epic ride and that he did it in memory of his sister who died of cancer. (Pat gave his race ID card to his nephew at the end of his trip). Petro listened carefully and said that it was a remarkable story and that I should do the trip…..
When Vaughn and I sat on my porch in Cape Town we plotted a rough route of how we can do this on a ‘bike. I told Petro that I’ve started to plan the trip and the last thing she ever asked me was “Are you are still going to do the trip?….” When I shared that with Pat and Rosie in Chicago it was like a mountain of my shoulders….
The planning started in earnest I made sure that I would pass through Chicago to visit Pat and Rosie. On my “T-minus 30” trip which I did one month before the trip I planned a long ride form Cape Town to Johannesburg and the next weekend from Johannesburg back to Cape Town. On the way back my plan was to stop and say goodbye to my family. Then disaster struck and my brother (Albert) had a massive heart attack and passed away during that week. The trip was in the balance, but I decided to proceed and took one of Albert’s scarfs with me on the trip.
On Day 18 I found a great spot to stack a couple of rocks in memory of Petro, Albert as well as friends and family.
The GPS coordinates and maps for my stack of rocks is in this post. Just in case one of you passes through the area and wants to stack some rocks for a loved one… Come in Mr Zog, you are the closest?
So, in short…. The trip really was not about the bike…
