Up the Creek without A Permit: 31 July - 2 August 2020

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Ri

Grey Hound
WD Supporter
Joined
Jul 4, 2014
Messages
5,477
Reaction score
984
Location
Somerset West
Bike
Suzuki DR650
The coming COVID-19 lockdown didn't hold any fear for me.

The first person to bring COVID-19 to Cape Town (SA?) probably worked in my building, because 2 - 3 weeks before the lockdown, we had a Covid scare and were sent to work from home. I have good internet, and my house was empty and - most importantly - QUIET, and would likely stay that way. Work/life borders blurred into non-existence as I started working into the early hours, focused on a problem, and slept later and later.

I had to remind myself to check in with loved ones, lest some cavalry broke down my door, expecting to find my rotting corpse. I had a taste of the lockdown life, and it was sweet.

Overnight my dream became a nightmare. My sister drove my mom 6 hours for a much needed knee operation, scheduled for Lockdown Day, to be turned away at the door. The operation was vital and so wasn't canceled, but postponed to the first available opportunity. My sister drove back home to her own personal hell of home-schooling, and I, childless, took on the care of a bad tempered and bed-ridden 81-year old toddler.

A carer looked after my mom every day, interrupting me to come soothe whenever my mom was being unco-operative or mean, which was all the time. I, who feel faint at the sight of blood, had to dress my mom's weeping knee sores every day, sending photo's to my sister, a degreed nursing professional. I, insomniac battling for a good night's sleep, now startled awake at the slightest sound, worrying that my obstinate mom crept to the bathroom unaided, and fell.

But the worst was that I, who can't keep a plant alive, had to suddenly keep my fussy mom from dying of starvation.

Now, I am not without skills - I can write a bit; I can play some instruments; I can maybe make you laugh - but they don't cover cooking or, some say, motorbike riding. But whereas I'm passionate about motorbike riding, I have zero interest in cooking, even though (or maybe because) I love good food. For me, meal planning is choosing a wine with dinner. And, sometimes, for dinner.

My hair turned white, my face turned grey, my nose and cheeks turned blotchy with rosacea. I scoured the internet for recipes even I couldn't mess up, with minimum ingredients and maximum acceptable taste. Well-meaning friends and family posted and emailed recipes, as if these words of whisking would turn me into Nigella Lawson.

Three weeks of lockdown grew into five weeks and longer... then, unexpectedly, it is over. My mom's knee operation is squeezed in on a quiet morning as lockdown lifts slightly, and my sister fetches her home for some proper rest and ratatouille.

I exhale. Lockdown stretches out in front of me, quiet, empty, and I resolve to social distance the heck out of it.

A WhatsApp pops up: have I heard of Wildwood Tours' regular Up The Creek weekend rides? It seems affiliated to KTM, so, no, but apparently all bikes are welcome. I hesitate. I'm desperate for a ride but I'm exhausted and not fit for human company, and we're still under lockdown. No worries, it's a 'conference' and we should be fine... theoretically. Gysmanshoek Pass decides it for me, and I put in leave for a long weekend, the fog over head and heart lifting slightly.
 
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