NAMIBIA uber alles - by POPFUNPLOT

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Joined
Sep 11, 2006
Messages
4,929
Reaction score
10
Location
Pretoria East - Home of Jameson
Bike
KTM 1090 Adventure R
This story and the events are generally narrated from the perspective of Plothond. However, both Funacide and Poppipants were as instrumental in putting the report together and credit to them for their words and outstanding pictures must equally be given


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Day 1 â?? 30th May 2008 : Pretoria to Kalahari Rest (25km outside Kang)
Route: RSA - Pretoria, Rustenburg (N4), Zeerust, BOTSWANA â?? Lobatse, Kanye, Jwaneng, Kang, Kalahari Rest
Distance: 728km
Fuel: Zeerust, Lobatse, Jwaneng, Kang, plus filled bladders (total 26 litres)
Border costs: RSA â?? nil, Botswana â?? 50 Pula road tax (R 1.30 = P 1.00)
Accomodation costs: P 50.00 per person, Firewood supplied, Power at campsite, Hot showers

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How do you explain anticipation. How do you explain excitement. How do you explain��. You cannot. With childlike impatience and counting the sleeps to the big day we urged life forward in the preceeding days. Namibia with timeless patience awaited us.

Funacide and myself got to the Shell garage just off Atterbury in Pretoria slightly before 05:00. Although not late, we almost impatiently urged Poppipants to arrive, where the hell was he !!!!
Right on time the 1150 purred up the road, made a U-turn at the robot and entered the forecourt. It was real, OUR Namibian Adventure had begun.

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Funacide asked me to lead as my HID globe would light up the highway, paving the way forward to our adventure. It was cold and I struggled to get into my groove. I tried to hover around the 130km/h mark but the figures danced around on the digital screen like a one armed bandit. With the first tollgate behind us we settled into steady gait

Our first break just outside Rustenburg and Funacide with nothing under his jacket other than a T-shirt, was freezing his gonads off

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A breakfast stop in Zeerust at the Wimpy helped thaw the bones a bit and amidst stares from the other patrons we ate, paid and exited the restaurant. It was almost as if they had never seen bikers before. Maybe the fact that we looked like pack donkeys had something to do with the interest we attracted

It was an absolute pleasure to sort out the formalities on the RSA side of the border and the Botswana side almost as quick. Except the customs. This took forever as they only had one official on duty and with typical African efficiency many, many documents had to be filled in, stamped, paid, receipts issued etcâ?¦ This process was repeated over and over again, ad nauseam until it was my turn. All the while some or other dingbat who was actually in the queue, who had to leave the queue, who now wanted back in the queue would try to push in. My â??moer meterâ? had passed Yellow (not Orange â?? Orange is KTM, and thatâ??s good) and was edging towards Red. I was about to erupt and test the patience of the Botswana customs and prisons system until I realized that this would achieve nothing except me being a guest of the state and my two companions starting the trip on their own.

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We changed money and went into Lobatse to purchase some rolls and meat for a braai that evening. In the Butchery, the friendly proprieter invited us into the large cold room and we â??chose our cowâ?. 886g steak at a cost of Pula 32.00  (thatâ??s less than R 50.00/kg â?? bargain)

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Jwaneng and another fuel stop. Surprisingly (to myself anyhow) Midas appears to be well represented in Botswana. Whilst sitting at the BP and enjoying a cooldrink, we were pestered and irritated by kids begging, right in your face as only kids can do. Again the stress of work and life in the Big Smoke had not eased up yet and once again I felt myself wanting to bliksim these little shits. Having traveled relatively extensively overseas the last few years, I could still not think of another place where the kids and beggers were not so irritating. I mentioned to the others that sometimes I just felt as if we did not belong here. Iâ??m African, born African and love this place and yetâ?¦â?¦â?¦..

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Kang, over 200km up the road was our next target for the day
Something about the Trans Kalahari Highway, said to be one of the most boring roads in Africa. We did not experience it quite so bad, but long and flat it is.

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Thoughtfully the road designers had included many reststops and we pulled off for a biological and nicotine break.

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Now in India, the cow is said to be considered sacred and worthy of protection. Now in India that may count, but Botswana cows are dumber than�� er����. Cows.
These bloody stupid bovines would happily graze, or whatever bloody stupid Botswana cows do on the verges of the Trans Kalahari Highway, until they hear these masterpieces of Austrian and German engineering approaching. Then with a lazy and yet somehow determined resolve a group of 5 or 6 would attempt to cross the road, causing our â??convoyâ? to have to awake from itâ??s monotonous drone, the pilots to shake off a boredom induced daze and either slow the bikes down or come to a complete halt. Stupid bloody Botswana cowsâ?¦â?¦â?¦â?¦

Poppipants Riding behind Plottie was an adventure in its own. Each time we passed some cows or donkeyâ??s (there are a lot of donkeyâ??s) they hear the Air
Ages in full flow. That seemed to induce temporary madcow and time after time they ran straight across the road between us. Note to self: I need an exhaust, the sewing machine does not seem to scare them away.


It was past 16:30 when we entered Kang and hope of reaching Ghanzi over 250km away before dark was becoming an impossibility.

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With more than 350km to our next fuel stop, we wisely decided to fill our MSR bladders for the first time. As this was our first real test of these things, the banter between the ever incorrigible Lucky Striker and the always eloquent Jacko came to mind and I wondered who would be the first living example of a streaking Blue & orange fireball.

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Kalahari Rest was one of those finds that you will be forever thankful for. A lovely campsite and the whole place to ourselves.

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Poppipants Funacide and I took a leisurely walk to the reception to pay for the campsite, only to discover the friendliest bartender ever. His words apon enquiring about the price. â??First we drink beer then we sort out camping!â?. A man after my own heart. This caused a bit of a moral dilemma because Plottie was looking after the bikes and we were enjoying the best Botswana had to offer. Do we go and fetch him now, or do we have another, maybe he will miss us and come looking?!? I think he must have smelled the beer, because it was not long before he showed up â??as we were ready to go and call himâ?  :)

Setting up camp that evening had ourselves decidedly divided into two factions: The haveâ??s and the have notâ??s.
The haveâ??s â?? thats me, Plothond, had insight, the adventureous spirit and the best little self-inflating hiking/trekking mattress ever designed.
The have notâ??s â?? thatâ??s Funacide & Poppipants. Lazy farking cheapskates. Have not culture nor class nor respect for the environment. They haul out these cheap-ass friggen â??liloâ??sâ? and this ultra noisy, damn irritating blower which sounds like the Milkshake machine at the lollipop roadhouse in overdrive.
I recall Funacides comment a few weeks earlier whilst shopping in a 4x4 store about all the luxuries and mod-cons these places sold and that we as hardened adventure bikers were not soft like these 4x4 shoppers. A fellow shopper who overheard the comment was not impressed.
Bloody moegoeâ??s â?? I hoped those mattresses would make them sea-sick

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Funacide is an interesting person. Coffee keeps this dude ticking, and mind you not any coffee. We talking quality here. Poppi was quite happy with his Nescafe sachets, but Fun was having none of it.
We had pre-contrived a plan. I found a silicone funnel at Makro, later relabeled the â??titâ?, we had purchased coffee filters and the best filter blend was packed in. Patience was a virtue during this operation and any deviation from the pouring plan would result in far too much pressure at the bottom, the filter would split and dump all the grounds in your cup â?? not a desired result.
Further experimentation revealed that the double filter system worked and so was set our morning and evening coffee making ritual.

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Settling down later, I also realized that we would be safe from any prowling animals or scavengers at night. The snoring cacophony that erupted from the tents of the PopFun duo was enough to scare the crap out of even the most errant Lion or man eating Bushman.

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