Damaraland, northern Namibia (2017)

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Zanie

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Location
Table View, Cape Town
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Honda CRF-250 Rally
I seem to start many of my longer ride reports with an apologetic explanation, so here it is: I have a day job. Hence this report is more than 3 years late; covering a trip that occurred back in May 2017. It was on the verge of completion before I headed off on the Kaokoland trip, at which time that report became the priority.

This report was a DIY effort, so unfortunately no videos or beautifully-edited photos from Lance.

I’ve sold my 650GS since, so this will be my 650’s “swan song” – its last ride report.

This ride is an account of a WAVolt-organised motorcycle tour to Damaraland, northern Namibia.

Day 1 (18 May 2017): Cape Town to Grunau (810km)

We’ve done the Cape Town to Namibia border run by bike for a southern Namibia trip (in 2016), but given that this tour started in Windhoek, we did the sensible thing and saddled one big-engine bakkie with the role of transporting all three bikes: my BMW 650GS, Lance’s BMW 800GS and the KTM 1290R for Lance’s parents - Ernie and Lynette.

The work horse:
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We left Cape Town just after 6am. Twelve hours, over 800km and a border crossing later, we were in Grunau; 140-odd km north of the Namibian border.

Aside from WAVolt ride-leader Michael, and the Zululand Overland crew (Henk and Teresa) who would keep us fed and housed (in tents), we were a group of 13 bikers – including 2 pillions.

The tour had yet to start officially, but this did not stop the team from organising us some fabulous braai food (wors, steak and braaibroodjies) and some digs in the form of rooms with multiple bunk beds.

I come prepared with ear plugs on these trips, just in case your roomies or tent-neighbours are of the loud sleeper sort, though every now and then you do find that special individual who can sonic-boom through anything. There’s usually one on every tour and this trip was no different, but he was in another room and we made sure of strategic tent placement each night.

Day 2 (19 May 2017): Grunau to Windhoek (660km)

And we thought we were trailering many bikes! Here’s most of the rest:

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The whole crowd:
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Lance and I were in his car, packed to the rafters with bike trip paraphernalia: helmets, boots, kit and a luggage bag each for me, Lance and his parents. His parents were in the bakkie bristling with bikes.

A note to travellers: Windhoek has very few roads heading in /out of town. The traffic cops know this and station themselves along the main arterials. Lance was pulled off and asked for his driver’s licence. It had expired four months ago...

Are you kidding me?! We were heading on a multi-day bike trip in a foreign country and Lance forgot to renew his licence! The cop looked at us for a bit and then said: “She should be driving.” (I had my licence.) Lance and I thanked the cop, swapped seats and headed off.

Luckily we weren’t in the car towing the bikes. I don’t think the cop would have been as forgiving if he saw our intention of riding separately by bike.

I drove us the remaining distance to Urban Camp. As its name suggests, it is a camp right within Windhoek.

Urban Camp:
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There are some permanent tents for hire, in picturesque sites:

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We bikers were a bit more (im)practical: pack them in tight!

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We munched supper at the Urban Camp restaurant. I tried some oryx schnitzel.

Yesterday evening I had noticed what looked like oil in the back of the bakkie beneath my bike. The consensus was that the amount did not look worrisome. Today there was much less. We could not spot where the oil was coming from and, for the rest of the trip, there was no further leakage.

When my bike went for some TLC after the trip, it was found that there was basically no fluid left in the rear shock - it had to be reconditioned. No wonder my suspension was less than stellar during the trip.

Day 3 (20 May 2017): Windhoek to Waterberg (442km)

Elapsed time: 7h47 (57 km/h)
Moving time: 4h48 (92 km/h)

Everyone is always keen to get going on the first day of a tour; we were all on the road just past 7:30. Today’s roads were mostly flat and fast, skirted by scrub and some of these:

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Fast roads:
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I used my cruise control (little lever I had that can lock my throttle into place) until a black-backed jackal ran across the road and I realised I could not afford the split-seconds it shaves from my brake response time.

The “C” roads in Namibia are generally well-maintained, but a sharp eye should be kept on the road for the rare, but disruptive, deviations in surface standard.

This one caused no problems:
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This one did:
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The mud-hole is deeper than it looks. A frontrunner of the group (Mark), with enduro-racing background, hit it at speed. Thanks to his skills, he managed to remain upright, but hurt his wrist badly. It pained him for the rest of the trip. He later mentioned he also had a sizeable bruise very close to the crown jewels.

Our first fuel stop for the day came up dry – the petrol station had shut down within the past year. This highlights the importance of the mantra: “If you see petrol, fuel up!” Now we were in trouble. Lance, with his 500km range on the 800GSA, was the only one who would make it to our destination.

Local intel suggested an alternative fuel source on a 17km detour further ahead. This detour turned out to be the most interesting stretch of road, since it was the only “D” road we rode that day.

My bike did its skittish sand rumba. I’m not sure what I do wrong (I should not blame the bike!), but I’m used to the dance by now and just keep going. I’m not sure whether Lance’s nerves are used to it though.

We found fuel!
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We had our lunch stop by the roadside.
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A giraffe was as intrigued by us and our lunch activities, as we were by its tameness. A local farmer happened by on an ancient 650GS and told us that the giraffe was his and was tame.

Clarke, the “giraffe whisperer” of the group, managed to get even closer than I did:

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We were on our way again – only stopping at turn-offs to regroup. This meant minimal dust, because everyone set their own pace – a brilliant strategy for large group rides on routes with minimal turns.

Lance taking the opportunity to chill:
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The tour guide had a special arrangement in order to allow us into the Waterberg Plateau National Park (bikes are usually forbidden).

We had to switch our bikes off immediately after reaching the campsite and had to keep them that way until we left the following morning.

They fed us well on this trip. Tonight was T-bone steak, coleslaw, and pap-en-sous.

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It was dusk and we were all sitting by the campfire when we saw what looked like a little platoon of rodents rushing across the ground towards the tree close-by (the big one in the photo above).

Next thing, the little critters made incredible leaps into the tree and across to other nearby trees – like they had built-in springs in their feet. Bushbabies! What a lucky sighting!

Unfortunately no photos, but here’s a consolation photo of evening scenery.
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