DAY 4 continuedLance had a plan. “Let’s go up this hill.”
“This one? You’re nuts!”

“Ok, fine.”

It gets even steeper in front.

My rear wheel kicked up puffs of dust as I kept momentum up. If you stopped here, it will be difficult to get going again.

Puffs of stones:

The top!

This was probably a road at some point. Now the best definition is “track cleared of trees”.


When it dead-ended, I executed the classic side-stand incident: topple over while trying to do a slow, sharp turn.
Oh well, the bike and I needed a break anyway.

The 800: “Falling is for noobs.”

Some last burnt forest exploration:



Interesting angles:



Dust puff:

Semi-burnt forest:

Green forest!

We landed on a lesser-used path and soon came upon our usual barrier alternative to a locked gate: diagonal branch.

Despite what the picture would have you believe, this one was low enough to ride under.

We were able to go a bit further…


…before finding a branch that was more obstinate.

It was a stunning resting spot, so we took the opportunity of a helmet break.

This forest was alive! You could hear all manner of bugs; the cicadas were probably the loud ones. In our trip video we included a bit of the forest’s soundtrack that we recorded with the cell phone.

Heading back and ducking beneath the low branch:

As I mentioned previously: this forest was alive. Spot the butterfly to my right:

The camera struggled in the low-light conditions. The path forward is clear though:

There is light at the end of the tunnel:

The light signalled some more burnt forest…

…and a gate.

Based on earlier experience, I did not even check the gate, but started looking for a good turn-around spot. Lance, being of sounder mind, walked to the gate and found…it was not locked!
Gender equality has been achieved: gate duty is shared equally…

We could get out! Because “out” was where we should have been in the first place. We had, unwittingly, ended up in a nature reserve. The gate had a plethora of those signs with red diagonal stripes through activities.
We nervously rode ahead, waiting for the wrathful gate guard, but apparently no-one was working the day before Christmas.



A lonely building with no-one home:

It was now 4pm, so it was probably time to start heading back in the direction of Sedgefield. Lance decided that we should find the hill where all the paragliders launch. We’ve been watching these colourful specks in the sky every afternoon since reaching Sedgefield.
We didn’t quite know where we were going. Ok, ok. We hadn’t the foggiest. Or, at least, I didn’t have a clue. Lance apparently had half-a-clue, but he obviously misplaced it, as we were to find out later.
Seems legit?

I’m sure hordes of paragliding fanatics drive here…

…every day…

…or maybe once a week?

Once a month?

Once a century…

…by horse.

Or maybe by goat.

We found one of those signboards with angry red letters. We paid our respects and turned tail, after I gave some pointers to Lance on how to turn his behemoth around on a sandy slope.
He didn’t listen at first. By now he should know that the woman is always right. Well, at least, I was right this time! When he swung his big backside as directed, he finally managed to make headway.

Heading back on the goat track:

We continued our search for the elusive paragliders. Obviously they had to be up a hill somewhere. Problem is, we chose the wrong hill…

“Where to now, oh wise one?”

Downhill! Makes perfect sense. Only, we didn’t go back on the route we came.

Magic forest…




…with speed bumps!


We had the road in our sight, but the last dregs of our track came fully-furnished with a locked gate.
So near and yet so far.

To the left of me, in the photo above, was a hill of awesome proportions – the main proportion of note being gradient.
My response: “Hell no!”

Despite my protestations, Lance still gave it a bash. But I had noticed another of the hill’s properties: sand. The 800’s rear wheel spun a groove in the soft surface. I watched, content with the knowledge that this gambit was going no further.
This time Lance directed the backside-swing manoeuvres from his position 10cm further up the hill.

“I’m outta here!”

We went back up the hill, the easy way.

The surface was also soft, but the easier gradient made this trek possible.

Speed bump:

For those who haven’t noticed, Lance was having fun with two action cameras today: a helmet-mounted GoPro and a bike-mounted SJ camera, hence the high and low angle snaps.

We explored the top of the hill, following tracks…


…until they became non-tracks.


Back on the grassy “highway”:

Somewhere during our hill explorations, Lance admitted that we were definitely on the wrong hill. We decided on one last foray into the unknown before heading to the correct hill.
It’s amazing how many roads there are that turn from this…

…to this.

So many options…

…but we decided to turn back, because (1) it was getting late, (2) my backside had reached its Honda plank-seat limit, and (3) I didn’t feel like an extended sand work-out.
My nerves are a bit shot after a bad crash in sand during a funduro on my 230 Honda. That was my first crash that had resulted in an operation (reattaching wrist ligaments). Yet the 230 eats sand for breakfast. Therefore I have decided that I will take my 230 on an up-coming trip to northern Namibia (lots of sand). Lance will take my Honda Rally on condition that he replace any big bits that get dinged / broken (scratches don’t count).
Meanwhile, my reaction to sand has regressed on a bigger bike. Paddle!

Heading back on the sandy track:




Lance was still up for further explorations.

I waited while he quickly checked out this road.


And then we were on gravel highway:

We finally found the correct hill, where the paragliders launch. Mission complete!
DAY 5 (25 Dec): Christmas (0 km)There’s not much to write about today, other than to say that it probably matched the experience of many: spend time with family / friends and eat too much!