Oasis Spit Braai 11 November 2017: (Gippo) Guts and Glory

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Ri

Grey Hound
WD Supporter
Joined
Jul 4, 2014
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Location
Somerset West
Bike
Suzuki DR650
Life does not look good.

It’s 20:00 on Wednesday night, 8 November, and I’m on the 20th floor of a high rise in the Cape Town CBD with a beautiful view of the harbour. I'm lying under a desk, clutching my stomach as another wave of pain leaves me breathless, waiting for Dux to fetch me. He owes me one, and payback is a bitch - with gippo guts.

I’m nauseaus as all heck but despite pushing my finger down my throat so far I could remove my tonsils if I still had them, no relief is forthcoming. The lift finally arrives and we head home.

Maybe it is the motion, maybe it is a belated reaction to tickling my tonsils, but suddenly my throat tightens and my mouth starts salivating excessively in preparation of a blow-out. Fortunately, Dux had the foresight to pack a plastic bag or two against this very eventuality. He drops me off at home and heads off into the night, planning his sterilising routine.

I crawl into bed for a miserable hour or so, then spend the rest of the night hugging the toilet. Thursday finds me scratching through my meager medicine box for the two Buscopan I remember stockpiling (only one, it turns out), and those Valoid tablets whose vile taste makes me gag even more.

I spend the day listlessly gathering stuff for Tom on Gough’s last package, thanking the Lord that this illness legitimately provides me the time, if not the energy, to finish the prep and packaging. Late afternoon I head to Stellenbosch Mediclinic ER - I’ve been too scared to eat all day, and am almost delirious with dehydration.

The friendly sister who triages, warns me that I'm only deemed "yellow", and accidents and children will be treated before me. No worries - the waiting room is empty. Suddenly a bunch of mothers bound in with their children packed in ice - a school cricket game gone awry. Next up an ambulance rolls in. I watch them blearily, hope long ago disgorged. But the little darlings are speedily patched up and disposed, and suddenly it's my turn.

I’m duly hooked up to a drip and given some prescriptions and a sick note for a few days (bless you, Doctor!) and head home almost clear-headed, with a plan to leave for Oasis the next day (Friday).

Dux however, after seeing my condition on Wednesday night, reasonably assumes that I’m unlikely to survive the night, never mind make the Oasis Spit trip, and reschedules my bike to be serviced and delivered the day after Pres. Zuma voluntarily resigns.

But I’m made of sterner Boere stock, hard-headed as can be. I’ve stared down a Jetta, darnit! (And no, I’m not referring to target fixation). My Purple Gentleman is finally parked at the back of the cottage, packed and ready for the trip, and I decide to join Andy660’s crowd riding early on Saturday morning, 90% gravel according to Robin Brown.

I’ve avoided riding with Andy660 before because he likes to ride at speed, and I don’t have a snowball’s chance in the Karoo of keeping up. I also don’t want to hold anyone back, which inevitably happens to the poor sod who ends up sweeping.

My other worry is whether my energy will hold out. I haven't eaten much in the past two days, and I'm never hungry when riding, probably because nervous delight keeps me in fight-or-flight mode for the duration. But sod that, it sounds like an interesting and challenging route to distract me from an interesting and challenging week, and I've been looking forward to the Oasis Spit for a long time.

Saturday morning 07:45 sees me paddling up and down the Richmond Total garage, trying to find a good angle to put down the slightly overlong side stand of the lowered Gent. A 1200GS rolls up shortly after, and turns out to be Anwar, who is also joining us. He heads into the shop.

While I wait, chugging down an energy drink, a man approaches and asks about the loaded bike. He is in the queue to have his car washed, and has lately been thinking of getting a DS type of bike. He ends up chatting to Anwar for some time, and I fear he’s been won over to the Heavy Side.

Just before 08:00, a gaggle of Thumpers pulse into the garage - a couple of XR650Ls, a few DR650s and a DR-Z400, accompanied by a lone F800GS. It turns out to be Deon (super ten) who briefly questions me about our route, and then the crowd roars off into the distance.

Then Robin Brown glides in on his lovely Africa Twin, and informs us that due to unexpected mechanical problems (broken gear lever), Andy660 will be joining us later, after he’s gotten hold of and installed the replacement lever. We expect him to catch us up at Piketberg, but knowing Andy it might be sooner. We start up and head to Malmesbury to meet up with Calle, taking some lovely gravel roads. Robin Brown warns me about some sandy stretches lying ahead, but the Gentleman behaves himself impeccably, only now and then briefly shaking his head in a corner, and I'm quietly pleased.


Disclaimer Please accept my humble apologies if the photo's are in incorrect order. I tried to combine photo's from various sources, and maybe have got the order wrong.

To be continued...
 
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