MAYBE NO SHOES, BUT A BIKE AND THE WHOLE OF AFRICA !!

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Nardus

Pack Dog
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Location
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KTM 950 Adventure
MAYBE NO SHOES, BUT A BIKE AND THE WHOLE OF AFRICA !!


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(Please note that I am writing this report really for my own recollection and the fast fading memory. Also, the pictures presented herein were scanned images from slides that I have taken. As my empty slide spools were stolen on my trip, I had only a limited amount of slides that I could take, hence the lack of picture quantities)

I have always thought that I should write something about my trip through Africa, but never got around to do so. I still have one of the three Michelin maps which I took on my trip and realized that I am struggling to remember what little tracks we took in some of the countries.

During the last year, a friend of mine, Michnus (some of you might know him and those who do will know how he is), nagged me into writing something. Hi Michnus how are you? No fine, when are you writing something about that trip of yours. A month later: Hi Michnus how are you? No, fine, when are you writing something about that trip of yours? And so on and so on ...

Another motivation for starting this trip report was when I was sitting on the couch last week watching Long Way Down on National Geographic. Everybody will have their own way of doing things, but Johan and I did it quite differently. All I knew about Africa, is that you need a passport, some money, a map (optional) and enough time. We honestly did no planning at all. Throughout our 10 months of riding, we never could tell you where we would sleep the next night or which road we will take in two days time.


How it all started


I think my adventurous spirit and love for Africa were inherited from my parents, old Kobie and Ans. Most siblings, especially when older, appreciate their parents to some extent, but once you have met mine, you will love them. My moms eldest brother, Oom Retief Oosthuisen (who is now over 83 years old), was a true adventure seeker. Back in 1954 he organized the first ever overland trip from South Africa across Africa to England and back. It was on this trip where my parents met each other. After returning from this crazy adventure, my Dad opted to stay in Tanzania for another six years as a tour guide where he took tourists around central and east Africa. Not surprising then that I inherited a couple of genes which could easily be triggered to follow some of their tracks left years ago.

So, after spending 12 extremely frustrating years nailed to a school bench, thereafter two as a conscript in the military to fight an enemy that never existed and then another four to obtain a degree which I thought would automatically bring me somewhere worthwhile in life, I eventually found a gap to escape from this cycle of life. Hunting feral cats on Marion Island for a whole year, isolated from most of society for hours/days/weeks to think, reflect and try to find out who I am. Although I never managed to place myself in a definable category, I realized that I needed to start doing things which will make me happy. Sitting on Marion Island alone in the middle of the sub-Antarctic, was one of them. One picture, that kept on flashing through my mind was riding over a hill on a little dirt track when the most stunning view would appear of these planes as you go over the crest miles and miles of short green, green grass with animals roaming on it for as far as your eyes could see, somewhere in the middle of Africa. I think it was a scene from one of the stories my Dad used to tell me when I was a little boy. More of this much later in the report I will refer back to it.

Because Marion Island was so special to me, I have decided to share a couple of pictures with you Enjoy!

A group photo on New Years Day

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Me, the Cat Hunter

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A party in the early morning hours at the base camp it actually started the previous evening

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Lots of open space !

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And my favourite lots of time to think, re-think and plan ahead
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Some of our friends from the island, who did not want to come back:
Wandering Albatrosses

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King Penguins (chicks)

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Arctic Skua

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And Elephant Seals !!

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In 1993, I ended up in a commune with a whole lot of mates in Pretoria. I had no money to go anywhere not even back to my parents in Stellenbosch. I got myself into this situation after a months backpacking trip to Malawi, which turned out to be much longer than a month - until all my funds were depleted. In Pretoria, I eventually teamed up with one of the commune dwellers selling pots, pans and crockery in the homelands north of Pretoria. We actually made fairly good bucks and I managed to spend only half of that on parties and booze. After a couple of months, I think it was in July, I bought myself a ten year old second hand Yamaha XT600 Tenere for R7000  - regarded at the time as the ultimate adventure bike.

I remember phoning my Dad, informing him of the bike. He gave the usual - But why, it is dangerous ..crappy story, until I told him that the intention with the bike was to cross Africa and all of sudden the whole bike thing turned into a - now that sounds like a brilliant idea!!.

My idea was to pack the bike and venture into Africa for as long as I could, that is until my funds dry up. Except for my little 50cc I got from my older brother back in high school, I had never owned a motorcycle. Of all the options considered, it made most sense to ride through Africa on a bike cheap, fun, not caged in, can go almost anywhere and of course you dont have to talk to anyone. Can you imagine having to spend a couple of months in a cage having to talk and listen to the same persons stories and opinions?  Even worse, put the cage in 40 degree heat and then shake it violently from side to side! At least on a bike this will only happen when you stop hopefully with no shaking.

Well, I struggled to convince any of my fellow commune dwellers to join me, so alone it might have to be. I would have preferred a good buddy to accompany me for safety reasons, but rather alone than not at all. It remains strange how adventurous these things sound and so easily attainable to a lot of people around midnight with a proper intoxicated brain! The next day, it was only me again - no real takers. To my surprise at the end of September one of my mates who was about to write his final exams at the end of the year told me that he is considering doing something like this and that he might join me. I think, as with me, the whole school, army and study thing got to him too especially after spending quite a bit of time with me during the past few months and drinking lots and lots of beer together. In any case it worked, because in two months time I sort of wanted to leave and Johan not only had never owned a bike before, but he still did not have one. In October he found an old XT500 for R3500. I was kinda hoping that he would also get himself a XT600 for obvious reasons, the most obvious being that he is a very long stretch of a fart - a term used to describe Johan by a not-so-much-lady-like lady a year later after our arrival in England.

By mid November, I was sort of ready to go. That means that I had my bike, a tent, 3 x Michelin maps, organized a Carne de Pessagne, a brand new Mandela-passport and R3500 in my pocket. I knew my budget was rather tight, so decided to quite smoking and drinking. To now wait for Johan for another three weeks was getting a bit painful, so I told him that I will slowly head off to Mozambique. There is really only one coastline in Mozambique, so it should be easy to find me and with that I was off.


My test-run with the bike


Before I start with the trip report, let me quickly share my test-run trip with you that I did in September of 1993 to Mozambique.  I had to make sure I can ride the bloody thing and it would be nice to do a quick trip with a couple of buddies (and my good little best friend sister from Stellenbosch).

The Friday night before our departure, we spend all night drinking and partying from the one pub to the next in Pretoria. We ended up at Eds, a real yuppie and crappy joint, but open nonetheless. So at 03h00 on Saturday morning, we were having our last one for the road!! I saw this really beautiful chick sitting at the bar, so I went over and by now feeling very confident, I started to chat. I obviously mentioned the fact that I am off to Mozambique with my scooter in a couple of hours time. What a great pick-up line it almost always works!! She then mentioned that she has so much shit here and how she needed a break like this and how she wished she could just get on the back of the bike and ride away.

So, the next morning at 10h00 Carina woke me up with a backpack over her shoulder. If she wasnt so damn pretty, I would most probably not have remembered her, but I did and I obviously had told her where I stayed and I obviously invited her to hop on the bike with me! Well, I thought, this must be some chicky if she only met me the previous night (or same morning) more than half pissed and decides to come with me.

Well, two days later sleeping in our little 2-man tent, Carina informed me that she was actually married and has a child of 5 years, but that she is not happily married and thinks she might get divorced. Oh fuck!! But what the heck, nothing I (we) can do about this bit of information now, so lets just have fun and enjoy the week long holiday.

I cannot remember much about the trip, although, looking at the pictures we obviously were at Praia do Xai Xai and Inhaca Island and it was really nice to hang around with my buddies and sister. Carina was such good company that we spent another week in Mozambique after all the other people went back to Pretoria. And oh yes, I cannot really ride the bike well and not at all in a sand track.

Here is a picture or two from that trip:

A quick pitstop before crossing the border

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Enjoying a local Bob Marley Siggie

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Crossing over to Inhaca Island (Carina in the middle, my sister Hanna on the far right and Skua on the left)

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How romantic.

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Somewhere during our 2nd week

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