The quiet country road soon turned to a gravel road, and I once again found myself in the middle of nowhere, albeit with the occasional farm. I followed a sign board directing me left towards Montagu, chuffed with myself that I'd managed to find an alternate route that didn't involve any tar.
Eventually I came across another intersection - left towards Barrydale, or right towards Montagu. As much as I was enjoying the solitude Barrydale seemed closer, and the prospect of a cold beer and big lunch sooner rather than later was appealing, so I turned off. Not long after I came across a security checkpoint - the guard advised me that Barrydale was about 40km on, but Montagu was closer. I turned around.
40km came and went. The dude was misinformed - either Barrydale was closer, or his 40km estimate was off. It was dry, dusty and hot. Incredibly hot. Enough to make me gatvol.
Since I skipped most of R62, I would miss the obligatory Ronnie's Sex Shop photo. Oom Jan's would have to do.
As gatvol as I was, I still enjoyed some last bits of wide open scenery.
Roughly 70km later I had crossed another Ouberg Pass, met a dude with a broken bicycle on his way to Barrydale (to which I gave all the camping food I hadn't used), and arrived in Montagu. Hungry and thirsty I pulled into the first establishment I found and swallowed their last bottle of Windhoek Draught like it was Oros. The Draught was followed by one of the most epic chicken pies I've ever had, a coke, and lots of water. I had a chat to a chap on a 1200 Bandit on his way home (upcountry). In between everything an invisible parrot kept saying "hello". I checked the parrot cage, but it was empty. Apparently it was cooler up high in the shade.
Soon I was back on the bike, refuelling, and on my way to Robertson. Despite the fact that Roberston is only 25km from Montagu I stopped at the Dros for more beer and more water (a lot of which found its way into my empty hydration pack, along with some ice). I met another Capetonian on a XR650L on his way home - he wisely asked the Dros' gardener for the hose pipe and promptly drenched his head and tshirt. I took the opportunity to soak my cotton scarf, twice.
I had a route in mind for the last leg of my journey since before I even left home - to leave Robertson via the McGregor turn off, and go via Villiersdorp and Franschoek. It was the longer option and the heat was unbearable, but I stuck to my guns for the sake of the scenery, and the opportunity to avoid the N1. I couldn't remember 1 or 2 of the roads to turn off into, but slowing down alongside a tractor and asking the driver for directions, and pulling in at a little collection of houses on the side of the road, did the trick. Soon I found myself in the welcome shade of Franschoek Pass, and not long after that at my parents' house (where my family, and a pool, were waiting).
We had done it. My beloved W650 and I had taken to the road. 1325km over 3 days. All the boxes ticked - take the W650 on a tour, stay off the beaten track, sleep under the stars, ride with friends, meet people, chill, get lost and explore. I was so proud of my little bike - of all the bikes I've owned, this is the one I hope I never sell. She took a beating - just this week I started stripping her and the damage is extensive. Not only did my exhaust crack and my side stand spring give in, but it turns out the other exhaust had developed a crack as well, and the battery / electronics tray had not only cracked, but had been riding on the back wheel for who knows how long. It, and the battery, had been chewed right through, and battery acid had spilled onto the swingarm. I've been stripping parts off and will soon have to go about removing corrosion, fabricating a battery box, getting powder coating and welding done and a host of other things.
But I'm excited. I know when I'm done she'll be stronger, and ready to take on more trips like this.
Thanks for listening. Now go ride.
Topic: 3 days, 2 provinces, 1325km & 1 W650 (Read 5184 times)
