No Spills: Jubilee Tour (2 - 10 May 2021)

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Ri

Grey Hound
WD Supporter
Joined
Jul 4, 2014
Messages
5,477
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Location
Somerset West
Bike
Suzuki DR650
Suddenly everything is different.

My friend hires a personal trainer for our group of ladies and arranges for sessions to take place in my garden. Most of the ladies promptly fade, but my next door neighbour's daughter and I are dedicated, and the personal trainer commits to continuing with the sessions for the two of us - without increasing his rate, a man of his word. He brings his equipment and his knowledge, his enthusiasm and his very loud voice to my garden or patio, depending on the weather, and jollies and bullies us to greater efforts. When we start to look complacent, he changes to slightly heavier weights or adds 30 seconds to the reps. He is surprisingly adept at the mundane torture of cardio, coming up with combo's like burpee star jumps, squat jumping jacks, apple picker suicide runs and the most dreaded, mountain climbers. Slowly but surely, unnoticed, he increases our strength and fitness.

We are somewhere between a soft lockdown and a hard lockdown when I turn 50. This is my jubilee year.

The big surprise is my hair. I used to wear it super short for reasons of practicality and helmet hair, and because the salt and pepper makes me feel I look old. My dad was snow capped by his 30th birthday; my mom showed her first grey hair only at age 60+. I'm in between, fine iron hair appearing from about 18... but in patches, like my mom. During COVID and working from home I let it grow, gathering it in a fist on top of my head and cutting whatever sticks out. It turns out I'm mostly snow capped too, toned down by dark strands, with a pure white Charley Weir streak in my fringe. In sunlight, unless I'm standing next to a real blonde, I could be mistaken for a real blonde :imaposer:

I visit my family the weekend before my birthday, and they book my mother out of jail the retirement home for the weekend. They bake me a chocolate cheesecake with silver dust on it, and stick silver "50" candles on it . They allow me on a DR200 and point me down an unknown gravel road towards the next farm where we're joining more family for tea. When we come back, Bro-in-law points me to another rough little 2-spoor track through the veld. It is an absolute blast and I arrive home with glowing cheeks and glowing heart.

Cape Town offers wonderful opportunities on birthdays and I take a day's leave for my two favourites: a free ride up and down Table Mountain with a long hike on top, and free entry into the Two Oceans Aquarium. It is the perfect day, beautiful and blue and warm, and by great fortune a week or so before the mountain shockingly burns down.

I'm invited to hike and wild camp at Wolfberg Arch at the end of April, and with no additional fitness preparation I manage to slowly but consistently hike/climb the 10 km up the mountain, and the 10+ km down again next day (took a wrong turn :imaposer:). It is incredibly beautiful. I'm not at the level of the trail runners running up and down in 2-3 hours for fun, but I'm chuffed with my stamina nonetheless. Photo's: https://www.facebook.com/Ri.Snyman/albums/10227695182744146/?refid=56

I am the first person to pay for the EC Bash, and take 2 days leave leading up to it to have a nice ride up. In the meantime, Ultraflight organises a group ride to Apollo de Karoo, a place I'm very keen to visit, and I sign up for that. Closer to the time, the weekend ride is moved out and I have to cancel due to work commitments.

Scottish Leader of the Postal Route contacts me; he'll be in the country for a short period around that time and would like to go for a weekend ride; would I care to join? Can I suggest some nice routes to ride?  I start looking at distances and my imagination fires up. Texts fly and soon Scottish Leader suggests that we make a proper long tour of it, from that weekend to the EC Bash the next weekend. I change my leave request for the umpteenth time and my patient boss duly authorises it. I get down to brass tacks and start setting down our route, rummaging through my bucket list for options. Suddenly Scottish Leader goes silent and I realise he won't be joining me. Relief lightly feathers through me.

I wouldn't have minded the company, but a week is a long time and I relish the idea of some alone time, of spreading my wings and falling further afield. I look at my route again with slight trepidation; there is some scope for falling. The thought pops into my head: why should I fall? I'm improving slowly but surely and becoming more skilled; if I don't expect to fall, maybe I won't. I optimistically name this my "No Spills" tour.
 
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