Lestutu
Pack Dog
Riding in the dark is not my idea of fun, especially if the already poor headlight of the KLR points vaguely left and up into the dark yonder. Add that we’re talking about the treacherous R617 from Underberg to Maritzburg on a Sunday night, and yours truly’s view that the front beam of any motorcycle is for the rider to be seen, not to see, was proved, uhhhhm, wrong.
But we’re running 10 hours ahead of the ride report and perhaps a suitable start is to point out that the plan to re-supply Molumong ahead of a 30-strong 4x4 group last weekend, changed.
The original plan was to load the Hilux with the necessary, including a size 6 potjie, head for Lesotho, and cook the guests a killer dinner and breakfast. But the mechanic didn’t sort out the head in time as he said he would, properly throwing a spanner in the works.
Organising the food was easy, as the “opsigter” at Molumong, Daniel, his wife and sister are developing a reputation for firing up a legendary baSotho meal. The problem was getting the money and a few spice ingredients to him.
And so, with Hobson’s Choice eyeballing me, I wheeled out the old girl, changed the oil, tightened the chain, and got ready for a long day.
The day started late, at 9.30 am, and I opted for the tar road instead of the usual dirt route through the KZN midlands. At least I was making good time, leaving Maritzburg via the Edendale valley and joining the R617 just outside Boston.
After the customary coffee break at The Lemon Tree in Underberg, and topping up in Himeville, next stop was the South African border post, before hitting Sani Pass.
Thankfully the pass was very quiet and there were no unexpected delays by people who shouldn’t be on the pass, or those who don’t understand that ascending traffic has right of way.
Once through the top border post and parting with a R30 toll fee, it was onwards across the Sani flats towards Black Mountain Pass. But a nasty surprise was in waiting, the advance guard of the Chinese road building team, blasting and drilling its way down the pass.
They are moving much faster than I’d thought they would. Having come across them about three months ago, it is clear they’re working around the clock to widen the road with the ultimate aim of tarring it. Will the price of any shortcuts be paid later?
The ride to Molumong was uneventful, but the wild willows (salix mucronata) lining the banks of the Sehonghong River were still in full leaf. By early May these trees either have or are shedding their leaves, but not this year. Another example of “season shift” that we’ve been observing over the past 14 years, where seasons start and end later, and is said to be a harbinger of climate change?
So, having handed Daniel the money, and gulping down a quick coffee, it was time to head back. The clock was ticking and I knew that I’d be riding back in the dark, not a pleasant prospect.
By 5 pm I was through the bottom border post, and at the Good Hope trading station ruins, hit the tar. But darkness was deepening rapidly, and by the time I’d left Underberg after slurping down a coffee at the KFC – the only place open - it was lights on.
Now, the low beam had blown some time ago, and the aforementioned high beam was providing a lovely, but useless view of the plantations flitting by. The light was adequate, just, if there was no other traffic, but a nightmare otherwise.
It taught me a simple lesson – just because I don’t like riding at night, it doesn’t mean I never will, and that a small matter like a decent, properly adjusted headlight is the difference between riding blind or in the light.
At least the weather was beautifully balmy and at times I could even admire the slither moon sky. The limited vision heightened my olfactory senses, and I’ll remember the night ride for the potpourri of odours and smells, of veldfires, pap on the boil, meat being braaied, the scent of eucalyptus and pine, and the pong of cattle dung and chicken shit.
And so, despite struggling to see properly, it was a wonderful thing to be alive, and I thanked the lucky stars for being able to savour the experience. And sure, I’m eternally grateful that it was the old girl I was on, even if she was somewhat squint that Sunday night.
Captions: The Sakeng River crossing showing the widened bridge.
The Chinese road gang shows scant regard for anything in their way as this mangled signage to Molumong shows.
The ruins of the Good Hope station where the tar changes to dirt on the Sani Pass road.
But we’re running 10 hours ahead of the ride report and perhaps a suitable start is to point out that the plan to re-supply Molumong ahead of a 30-strong 4x4 group last weekend, changed.
The original plan was to load the Hilux with the necessary, including a size 6 potjie, head for Lesotho, and cook the guests a killer dinner and breakfast. But the mechanic didn’t sort out the head in time as he said he would, properly throwing a spanner in the works.
Organising the food was easy, as the “opsigter” at Molumong, Daniel, his wife and sister are developing a reputation for firing up a legendary baSotho meal. The problem was getting the money and a few spice ingredients to him.
And so, with Hobson’s Choice eyeballing me, I wheeled out the old girl, changed the oil, tightened the chain, and got ready for a long day.
The day started late, at 9.30 am, and I opted for the tar road instead of the usual dirt route through the KZN midlands. At least I was making good time, leaving Maritzburg via the Edendale valley and joining the R617 just outside Boston.
After the customary coffee break at The Lemon Tree in Underberg, and topping up in Himeville, next stop was the South African border post, before hitting Sani Pass.
Thankfully the pass was very quiet and there were no unexpected delays by people who shouldn’t be on the pass, or those who don’t understand that ascending traffic has right of way.
Once through the top border post and parting with a R30 toll fee, it was onwards across the Sani flats towards Black Mountain Pass. But a nasty surprise was in waiting, the advance guard of the Chinese road building team, blasting and drilling its way down the pass.
They are moving much faster than I’d thought they would. Having come across them about three months ago, it is clear they’re working around the clock to widen the road with the ultimate aim of tarring it. Will the price of any shortcuts be paid later?
The ride to Molumong was uneventful, but the wild willows (salix mucronata) lining the banks of the Sehonghong River were still in full leaf. By early May these trees either have or are shedding their leaves, but not this year. Another example of “season shift” that we’ve been observing over the past 14 years, where seasons start and end later, and is said to be a harbinger of climate change?
So, having handed Daniel the money, and gulping down a quick coffee, it was time to head back. The clock was ticking and I knew that I’d be riding back in the dark, not a pleasant prospect.
By 5 pm I was through the bottom border post, and at the Good Hope trading station ruins, hit the tar. But darkness was deepening rapidly, and by the time I’d left Underberg after slurping down a coffee at the KFC – the only place open - it was lights on.
Now, the low beam had blown some time ago, and the aforementioned high beam was providing a lovely, but useless view of the plantations flitting by. The light was adequate, just, if there was no other traffic, but a nightmare otherwise.
It taught me a simple lesson – just because I don’t like riding at night, it doesn’t mean I never will, and that a small matter like a decent, properly adjusted headlight is the difference between riding blind or in the light.
At least the weather was beautifully balmy and at times I could even admire the slither moon sky. The limited vision heightened my olfactory senses, and I’ll remember the night ride for the potpourri of odours and smells, of veldfires, pap on the boil, meat being braaied, the scent of eucalyptus and pine, and the pong of cattle dung and chicken shit.
And so, despite struggling to see properly, it was a wonderful thing to be alive, and I thanked the lucky stars for being able to savour the experience. And sure, I’m eternally grateful that it was the old girl I was on, even if she was somewhat squint that Sunday night.
Captions: The Sakeng River crossing showing the widened bridge.
The Chinese road gang shows scant regard for anything in their way as this mangled signage to Molumong shows.
The ruins of the Good Hope station where the tar changes to dirt on the Sani Pass road.
