The mo(u)rning of day 3You know that feeling… as jy wakker word met stywe spiere, and you know, its only going to get worse over the next couple of days. My hands were so stiff that I struggled to touch my pinky too my thumb. En DȎNNERS seer. But why? My hands are callused and riding fit… Aaah… now I remember… Windgat aspiring Duzi paddler yesterday late afternoon. It’s a totally different physiological action too hanging onto the bars of a bike. Nou, ja toe. Lesson learned.
I would ride with those acing hands for at least another 4 days. Struggling to hold onto the bars with even the lightest of grips. It turned out to be an opportunity to meet yet another new close friend… Mybulen… 2 tablets twice daily. Don’t tell
@ockiemedic . He still has no idea…. Shhhht…
But I guess it’s better than blisters!
@teebag and
@Rikus had their hands full, literally. Some other guys as well. Eina.
We attacked the now well-oiled morning rituals at speed. Sorting out riding kit. Packing up bedding, stretcher, chair and duffle bag. Grabbing a lekker brekkie. Taking the daily supplements of VitB, Cramp Blockers, hand full of minerals and other Vit’s. Shooting a satchel of Rehidrat powder. Filling concoctions into our Hydration bladders, then emptying our own. Packing the Iveco. Riders briefing. Systematically going through the Pre-Ride Inspection. And then… we hit the road.
The morning heat caught up with us, rather quickly.
The first part of the route was a picturesque winding riverside ride. I took the missus and kids on much the same ride 3 months back when we rode along the Orange on the C13 between Sendelingsdrift and Aussenkehr on the Namibia side.
Really pretty part of the world.
Soon we found our way into the rocky hills of the Richtersveld. The convoy came to a halt at the Rock Piles / Klipstapels. I’ve never been here. First time. I didn’t experience the sense of contentment or magic that some of my fellow-participant felt. Not at first.
At first I thought …”bliksemse Europese toeriste, stacking rocks on top of each other!” In my minds eye I could see a tour operators Quantum screeching to a halt, a herd of tourists pouring out, snapping away, stacking at their hearts content, leaving their stain on this pristine part of the Richtersveld, before getting back into the Quantum and racing away over the horizon to assault their next landscape/local. Etters.
But, as I stood amongst the piles for a while, I realised that I might have judged a little too quickly. This flat space of earth in between the hills was a water runoff area, and therefore mostly sandy. Its actually not a big deal. Exposing more earth wouldn’t do any cataclysmic-size erosion damage, The almost non-existent flora, or the fauna that roams the entire valley would'nt be entirely dissplaced. The Impact is very localised, and… there’s a bloody hard compacted gravel road running straight through it anyway! So. Live and let live… or let stack… or …whatever suits your fancy… or not.
Life lesson number 2 for the Quest… like a mother sometimes endure hardship for her children’s sake… mother earth endures the brunt of our existence, for our sake…and that has a hell of a lot of profound implications!
It’s up to us to realise this, accept her gifts and sacrifices with gratitude, accept all her children (European tourists included), to cherish her, commune with her, and let go of stubborn self-righteousness. Were all part of the same circle.So many other thoughts and practical implications, I can go on for another 2000 words, but...I wont.
On top of all this,
@Rickus told us the story of the tannie he knew who had cancer, stacking one white rock on top of another every day. Day by day. As long as she could.
-deep breath-.
The group had a quick discussion about the different opinions people have regarding the site. I kept quiet. Later I walked some way off and stacked my own 5 rocks. It took me a while to clean my face afterwards. Sunglasses helped hide my red eyes.
The rest of the days ride was one of silence and introspection. As
@Sandban(g)k wrote… we all had our own battles to fight inside our helmets.
3 Mentionable experiences during that day’s sun scorched ride:1. -moertoe-
My aching hands were merely resting on the handle bars. Not really gripping. Good, right. Sure, until you hit a riverbed filled with sand, a 90 degree left turn, then packed loosely with moving cake tin size rocks, followed by another immediate 90 degree right turn and a steep rocky climb of about 2 vertical meters.
The sand needed speed, the turn needed brake, the rocks needed grip…
It bounced me off to the side of the track into the direct path of a square boulder, protruding about half a meter above the rocky bed. Time for a quick decision – gas it and jump the bastard (as per usual), or slam on brakes and stop, just to be carefull.…BRAKE! Bad decision. At a standstill, I put my right foot out. Only thing I stepped on was air. Daar moer ek die bike om binne in die klippe! Everything on the righthand side broke or bent. Brake pedal. Brake leaver, hand guard, mirror… While playing it safe!!! Standing Still!!!
Quick field repair skills came into its own. Cable ties, tape, tool, and brute force. The bike was ride-able again in no time, although I had to make constant tweaks to the repairs throughout the day. Finished the Quest with that bent lever and pedal, broken hand guard. Something else too, something BIG, but that would happen a couple days down the line…
2. -“ry hom!”-
At some point
@Hardy de Kock halted the convoy and told us that he noticed a change in our collective level of riding.
Jong, ja, for various obvious reasons. Almost everyone was adapting and changing their natural riding style and rhythm. It was boiling hot, no shade anywhere, we were physically exerting ourselves, mentally worried about damaging the bikes, and spiritually floating above the rocky Richterveld plains…
Falls, drops, hesitation, slow approach, low morale. It all showed and disrupted the flow.
@Hardy de Kock said, “Ry die ding!” Like your bike at home. Ride with your own style. The Africa Twin can take it!
... Bliksem. Who would have thought? The Main Konyn Expedition Pappie telling us all to give it horns? With a brand new 240kg bike? On an Amageza route!? Well… OK…
Immediately, the pace picked up. The convoy rhythm was back! The riders had smiles again. The boulder strewn sandy crossings became little more than speed bumps. Everyone went through the rest of the day a little easier, and all the crashes disappeared. Well, almost all….
3. -bloedkant-
At some point we had to ascend from the valley we spent most of the day in, onto a rocky plateau. The instructors stopped the convoy short of the little pass, and in their quietly exited way, briefed us on the loose rocks and off camber jeep track ahead. “No problem,”
@Kobus Myburgh said. Keep momentum and favour the ledge side of the track - the aptly named “bloedkant”. And so, we did. Riding up one at a time. I was standing at the ready, my turn, about to head up, when I per chance looked down at my bikes display to check the bike settings again. When I looked up again, Jodan /
@PhantomCupcake disappeared off the track above us, into the ravine.
“Pierre, heres a radio, take it up to them!”
@Kobus Myburgh said, clipping a handheld onto the strap of my Hydration pack. I set off up the ridge. When I came to a stop at Jodan’s drop-spot it was a huge relief to see him standing upright in the rockfield. The bike was flipped on the rocks, pointing down the valley. “Nee man”,
@KarooKid told me “take the radio up there”, as he pointed to the top of the climb. Oh. OK. Sorry. Off I went, glad to have stopped and seen Jodan walking about.
@Dipstick would eventually (with some assistance) walk/ride that bike out of the valley back onto the track. That oke has long leavers!
By the time all 18 bikes (including Jodan) were safe and sound at the top of the hill, that innocent little Jekyll&Hyde track was a howling monster. Sense of achievement, tick.
Back at campThat night we had a couple of lovely presentations to listen to at the camp fire. The Northern Cape Province by
@Sandban(g)k , Namma Tradition by Jana, and we shared
@JesseH ‘s excitement at rediscovering the legend that was Thomas Bain.
Team 6 and 7 had to do the washing up duties that night. Right from the start
@Sandban(g)k and I realized that both our team-mates were seriously exhausted.
@PhantomCupcake from his eventfull day, and
@Rickus from doing an infinite amount of elephant-turns, tracking back to help me pick up my bike. He’s a big, silent, strong, moerse good rider. I’m the small, noisy, average rider that keeps on plugging, frustratingly so. Much like an Indian Myna. Thus, the big diesel machine in team 7, and the flamboyant one in team number 6, were down and out.
@Sandban(g)k and I, asked them if they would rather like to turn inn for an early evening. It was already after 11pm, after all. The 2 of us finished up the chores and did the first sessions of security patrol for the evening. It gave them a chance to recharge. We knew that they would be carrying us again in the next couple of days when it would be our turn to take punches. That’s how Quest works. Even in inter-team dynamics, it’s about camaraderie, trust and self-sacrifice. It gave us an opportunity to walk and talk under the star-filled sky. It became a time for some deep reflection. Not only about the day we had, but also about the lives we lead, the people we love, the path we choose. We woke the next patrol team just after 1am.
I had a quick 4 hours to rest, before getting back up and doing it all over again.
@Sandban(g)k apparently, had even less…
Topic: Honda Quest True Adventure 2018 (Read 13048 times)
