Dustdevil
Race Dog
Epic Adventure past Cobus se Gat
It is a miserably wet May Friday morning nearing 7 o’clock when I coasted into the One Stop on the way to Paarl. I am already late as the rest of the group is all waiting outside the Wimpy for me ready to go, and I still needed to fill up with fuel.
After a short briefing and a unanimous agreement by the other 8 riders to change the first part of the route to go through the tunnel in stead of over Bainskloof on account of the weather we were off.
Our destination is a place called “Cobus se Gat” and not that it has anything to do with Cobus’s rear end but if you ever get to visit this place you will understand why it is called Cobus se Gat, in this context it has more to do with the Afrikaans translation of hole rather than ass.
When I spoke to Cobus from the farm Elandsvlei he informed me that he sold the piece of land where the famous Cobus se Gat camp site is located and that the only ones camping there these days are the baboons.
I had to organise other accommodation, but the main reason for going to Cobus se Gat is not only for the camping spot but rather the road that takes you over the Tra Tra Mountains.
Due to seasonal flooding of the Doring and Tra Tra rivers it is not possible to pas through here for most of the winter, we were still lucky as the Doring rivier have already come down with enough water to make it impossible to cross at Uitspan kraal in the Biedouw valley and the Tra Tra, still dry a few days ago, had enough water to make me walk it first to see if it will be safe enough to get the bikes through.
This road is relatively unknown and you wont’ find it on any regular road maps. It is mostly indicated as a 4X4 track even though locals do traverse over this rugged terrain with their “plaas bakkies”
Driving through the tunnel was incredibly pleasant and I was standing all the way to get the full effect of the hot dry air to warm up my cold, wet riding gear, almost like driving through a tumble dryer.
The wet drizzling weather lasted all the way to Ceres and as we climed up the Gydo pass into the “Koue Bokkeveld” I was getting new repect for what Racheltjie De Beer did for her little brother. It was getting real chilly and there is not even a sign of snow yet.
For those that does not know the tale of this old folk lore story, Racheltjie and her brother got lost looking for sheep in the snow somewhere in the Koue bokkeveld. She covered him with her body to stay warm inside a hollowed anthill. Her actions saved the life of her brother but cost her, her own. When they were eventually found se was frozen to death.
On the Gydo pass Michiel had the desire to pull over and try out this near vertical climb next to the road. When the rest of us arrived he was waiting on top. I watched in horror has he started to decent with the rear brake fighting for control on the lose slippery gravel. Michiel is well known for his anticks and will always try and ride his gutsy KLR up or down most anything that can be attempted on two or four wheels. He made it down safely but before I could say anything the rest of the group followed one another up the narrow two track to the top. Rear tires gripping, slipping left and right sometimes getting near the limit of loosing complete control.
Now I was facing a predicament, do I act like a responsible adult and stay down at the foot of the hill with Oliver and Chris being two up on a F800GS or do I use the opportunity to show what the HPN are made of.
The left side of my brain was still about to come up with some lame excuse why this should not be tried when the creative side are already working out if it should take the left or right side of the track. One fat squirt of adrenalin and the nerves is all calm and calculated as I shot off with the tail end fishing for grip snaking left and right and before I know it I was on top with an amazing view of the Ceres valley bellow. Getting down was a different story especially when I stalled the motor as I went over the crest. We all made it down and soon were cruising past “Op die Berg” on our way to Citrusdal. The Gravel section before town took us over a surprisingly nice little mountain pass with temperatures warming by a few decrees as we descended into the valley. The light drizzle has also come to an end and after warming and drying out over a quick bite at Patrick’s restaurant we were of in the direction of Wuppertal heading over Algeria.
The overcast weather created the most incredible backdrop for riding these majestic mountains. Valleys were fresh and vibrant with mountain peaks disappearing into cloudbanks.
Uitkyk Pass just past Algeria.
We were lucky to get fuel at “Dwars rivier” as the next stretch will take us over 300km back to Ceres with no other fuel stops in between. From Matjies rivier we followed the track past the small settlement of Eselbank and down the steep pass into Wuppertal where we don’t have time for a stop as it was getting late and the guest farm we are staying the night is still some k’s away.
Stopping for a short break under some oak trees outside Eselbank.
Looking down into the Biedouw valley.
We arrived at Mertenhof with the most beautiful lamb chops laid out and a fridge full of beers all thanks to the hospitality of Mariete.
The is a very special part of the trip because now everyone can get together around the fire and reflect on the trip of the day and about what might still lay ahead for tomorrow.
Overnight stop on Mertenhof guest farm.
The next morning Mariette graced us once more with a full breakfast, mielie pap included, in the main house on the farm. This old building is still almost completely original and nearly 200 years old.
The start of the special stage of our trip is a mere 2km away and before we knew it we were climbing some steep inclines with loose gravel crunching underneath. We were rising into the low laying mist clouds and before we knew we were suddenly on top of the world with the most incredible views around. I stopped to get some photographs of this spectacular view of the Kraaiberg pass.
From here the road followed along the flat top of the Tra Tra Mountains past the farm Agtersfontein where we got lost in the rooibos tee fields in spite of the farmers elaborate directions. Soon we were back on the two-track road meandering between the fynboss.
On top of the Tra Tra.
Tee farming
Besides the thin fading track we are following the landscape is almost becoming void of any other human interference. The remoteness is soothing the mind and it is slowly busy drowning out the noise of the senseless capitalist existence I have become so numbed by.
All this emptiness around me is filling me with such a desire for life and with the hope that one day humans will be able to stop this techno crap life and regain their connection with nature. Only when we stop with our senseless drive for economic prosperity and seemingly un-quenching desire for the latest technology has to offer will we be able to save this amazingly beautiful planet but most importantly will we be able to save our self.
Stopping for a brake at a beacon on the Tra Tra Mountains.
Unspoiled views.
Karrietjies Pass
As we started our decent on Karretjies Pass the road is showing little signs of other traffic. The road surface is getting more rugged with more and more loose stones, some of which kicks up from the front wheel hitting the sump guards and under sides of the bikes with load clangs and bangs.
After waiting to check that everyone got safely over a difficult technical section I discovered my battery has run down and I needed a push to get going again. Checking the voltage with the rally computer on the engine information menu I could make out that because of the slow going the charging voltage is to low to keep the battery fully charged.
This is a problem as we need to drive slower and slower to keep in pace with the deteriorating road conditions.
After a section of some serous loose rocks where I constantly jumped stones with the big HPN, both wheels clearing the air, we arrived at a closed gate. While waiting for the last bike to get through someone noticed the pool of oil collecting under the engine sump of Howard’s R80G/S. A stone hit right through the aluminium sump guard and cracked the sump. Howard unceremoniously chucked to G/S over on its side, forked out a spanner and remover the sump guard. The crack was about 4 inches long and the amount of oil coming out would empty the sump in no time. Fortunately I had some Alcolin mend everything magic putty and within minutes the crack was filled with the stuff and it turned hard as rock. After checking the oil level we were of again.
We approach another gate and someone came up from behind to open up for me but I am not so sure about going through as there is stones packed carefully in a line across the road as to say do not go down here, and this just after another faint track veers of to the right.
I ignored the signs and carried on with the rest of the guys following the road down a steep rocky section into a riverbank. Suddenly there was thick sand and trees blocking most of what would have been the road with very faint tracks of another motorcycle that went through, possibly months back, so I though maybe bikes can go through were cars could not and I kept going, besides I could not figure out how I was going to turn around this monster bike in soft sand and a road sided by thorn trees from all directions. Eventually I was forced to a halt by a big pool of water lined by impenetrable thorn trees. I was stuck with a bike that won’t start if it stalled and everyone else is pilling up behind me fast. I turned around and signalled to the guys behind to stop and managed to get at least half the group from getting into this mess. I had to wait patiently for the guys behind me to turn around and haul their bikes out of the thick sand before I could go. Wynand helped me push the HPN back some distance before I had enough room to turn around and by this time the relatively manageable sand has now been turned up so much it is chaos to try and keep the beast upright, but most importantly to make sure it does not stall. I was roaring through the sand and two meters short of firm soil a deep rut throw me off coarse and I topple over. I jumped up like lightning but before I could pull in the clutch the drag of the turning back wheel stalls the motor. Behind me sand and in front the steep riverbank. The only way was to push the bike up the hill and turn it around and hope to get it fired up before I get to the sand. Fortunately the warm motor does not need encouragement and fires up right away but stalled once more before I finally managed to get it going meters before the sand.
We backtracked to the gate and left on the other track. Soon after we are heading into the riverbank again this time I was overly cautious and not seeing a road coming out on the other side and one large wall of sand blocking the road I turned to follow another track that led us to another gate a few hundred yards away. The gate was locked so the last grossing had to be the way. I send in Stefan to go make sure it is fine so that I will not get stuck again should the road not go right trough but this time around we were at the right grossing over the Tra Tra river. I waited for the guys to get through and finally it was my turn, I cautiously entered the dry riverbed filled with loose rocks and then straight into this wall of soft white sand. I managed to get across with flailing legs, regained my composure and carried on while the rest of the group was still waiting for Oliver to get trough who forced his pillion to make use of his own two legs over these tricky spots.
A few yards down and I was blocked by an ominous looking stream, even though the water was not flowing very strong it was brown and it looked deep so I had to get of and walked through first, I could not wait for the rest because I have to keep a warm air cooled motor running, not a good thing if you are going to take to long. My walk through the river assured me that it is not as bad as it looks and of I went in my wet boots. Nobody was around to see me perform this exercise so when the rest of the group arrived on the other side I could detect the looks of uncertainty in their eyes. Stefan probably felt that it should be okay if I made it to the other side and nervously poked his front wheel down the very steep side into the water. He strayed over to far to the right and drove into a whole big enough to swallow almost the entire 19” size of the 1200GS front wheel. It took some effort and wet boots of his fellow riders to get him out and the rest made it trough easily.
Stefan stuck in the Tra Tra River.
Stefan making it out of the Tra Tra River.
On the banks of the Tra Tra River
In the meanwhile my bike have stalled again when I tried to indicate to the rest of the group that they can get through. Some more pushing and a short dry section of good road and we were at the rugged low water crossing of the Doring rivier. Michiel stopped to have a quick word with Cobus at the main farmstead of Elandsvlei and then it was of to cover the long fast straights of the R355 back to Ceres.
All in all we spend four hours to cover the nearly 55km from the Biedouw valley to Elandsvlei. The average speed was mostly around 30km/h for the drive time but with all the stops we average less than 15km/h.
Although it can be done in half the time if you do not get lost, brake your sump or get a flat and with no stopping to appreciate the beauty of the place I would recommend to plan for the extra time as things can easily go wrong on this rough track across the Tra Tra mountains.
Oh and for those who wanted to know, Cobus se Gat is found right where the road crosses the Tra Tra River. The remains of the camping huts can still be seen standing on the riverbanks.
Overlooking Wellington on the Bainskloof Pass.
It is a miserably wet May Friday morning nearing 7 o’clock when I coasted into the One Stop on the way to Paarl. I am already late as the rest of the group is all waiting outside the Wimpy for me ready to go, and I still needed to fill up with fuel.
After a short briefing and a unanimous agreement by the other 8 riders to change the first part of the route to go through the tunnel in stead of over Bainskloof on account of the weather we were off.
Our destination is a place called “Cobus se Gat” and not that it has anything to do with Cobus’s rear end but if you ever get to visit this place you will understand why it is called Cobus se Gat, in this context it has more to do with the Afrikaans translation of hole rather than ass.
When I spoke to Cobus from the farm Elandsvlei he informed me that he sold the piece of land where the famous Cobus se Gat camp site is located and that the only ones camping there these days are the baboons.
I had to organise other accommodation, but the main reason for going to Cobus se Gat is not only for the camping spot but rather the road that takes you over the Tra Tra Mountains.
Due to seasonal flooding of the Doring and Tra Tra rivers it is not possible to pas through here for most of the winter, we were still lucky as the Doring rivier have already come down with enough water to make it impossible to cross at Uitspan kraal in the Biedouw valley and the Tra Tra, still dry a few days ago, had enough water to make me walk it first to see if it will be safe enough to get the bikes through.
This road is relatively unknown and you wont’ find it on any regular road maps. It is mostly indicated as a 4X4 track even though locals do traverse over this rugged terrain with their “plaas bakkies”
Driving through the tunnel was incredibly pleasant and I was standing all the way to get the full effect of the hot dry air to warm up my cold, wet riding gear, almost like driving through a tumble dryer.
The wet drizzling weather lasted all the way to Ceres and as we climed up the Gydo pass into the “Koue Bokkeveld” I was getting new repect for what Racheltjie De Beer did for her little brother. It was getting real chilly and there is not even a sign of snow yet.
For those that does not know the tale of this old folk lore story, Racheltjie and her brother got lost looking for sheep in the snow somewhere in the Koue bokkeveld. She covered him with her body to stay warm inside a hollowed anthill. Her actions saved the life of her brother but cost her, her own. When they were eventually found se was frozen to death.
On the Gydo pass Michiel had the desire to pull over and try out this near vertical climb next to the road. When the rest of us arrived he was waiting on top. I watched in horror has he started to decent with the rear brake fighting for control on the lose slippery gravel. Michiel is well known for his anticks and will always try and ride his gutsy KLR up or down most anything that can be attempted on two or four wheels. He made it down safely but before I could say anything the rest of the group followed one another up the narrow two track to the top. Rear tires gripping, slipping left and right sometimes getting near the limit of loosing complete control.
Now I was facing a predicament, do I act like a responsible adult and stay down at the foot of the hill with Oliver and Chris being two up on a F800GS or do I use the opportunity to show what the HPN are made of.
The left side of my brain was still about to come up with some lame excuse why this should not be tried when the creative side are already working out if it should take the left or right side of the track. One fat squirt of adrenalin and the nerves is all calm and calculated as I shot off with the tail end fishing for grip snaking left and right and before I know it I was on top with an amazing view of the Ceres valley bellow. Getting down was a different story especially when I stalled the motor as I went over the crest. We all made it down and soon were cruising past “Op die Berg” on our way to Citrusdal. The Gravel section before town took us over a surprisingly nice little mountain pass with temperatures warming by a few decrees as we descended into the valley. The light drizzle has also come to an end and after warming and drying out over a quick bite at Patrick’s restaurant we were of in the direction of Wuppertal heading over Algeria.
The overcast weather created the most incredible backdrop for riding these majestic mountains. Valleys were fresh and vibrant with mountain peaks disappearing into cloudbanks.
Uitkyk Pass just past Algeria.
We were lucky to get fuel at “Dwars rivier” as the next stretch will take us over 300km back to Ceres with no other fuel stops in between. From Matjies rivier we followed the track past the small settlement of Eselbank and down the steep pass into Wuppertal where we don’t have time for a stop as it was getting late and the guest farm we are staying the night is still some k’s away.
Stopping for a short break under some oak trees outside Eselbank.
Looking down into the Biedouw valley.
We arrived at Mertenhof with the most beautiful lamb chops laid out and a fridge full of beers all thanks to the hospitality of Mariete.
The is a very special part of the trip because now everyone can get together around the fire and reflect on the trip of the day and about what might still lay ahead for tomorrow.
Overnight stop on Mertenhof guest farm.
The next morning Mariette graced us once more with a full breakfast, mielie pap included, in the main house on the farm. This old building is still almost completely original and nearly 200 years old.
The start of the special stage of our trip is a mere 2km away and before we knew it we were climbing some steep inclines with loose gravel crunching underneath. We were rising into the low laying mist clouds and before we knew we were suddenly on top of the world with the most incredible views around. I stopped to get some photographs of this spectacular view of the Kraaiberg pass.
From here the road followed along the flat top of the Tra Tra Mountains past the farm Agtersfontein where we got lost in the rooibos tee fields in spite of the farmers elaborate directions. Soon we were back on the two-track road meandering between the fynboss.
On top of the Tra Tra.
Tee farming
Besides the thin fading track we are following the landscape is almost becoming void of any other human interference. The remoteness is soothing the mind and it is slowly busy drowning out the noise of the senseless capitalist existence I have become so numbed by.
All this emptiness around me is filling me with such a desire for life and with the hope that one day humans will be able to stop this techno crap life and regain their connection with nature. Only when we stop with our senseless drive for economic prosperity and seemingly un-quenching desire for the latest technology has to offer will we be able to save this amazingly beautiful planet but most importantly will we be able to save our self.
Stopping for a brake at a beacon on the Tra Tra Mountains.
Unspoiled views.
Karrietjies Pass
As we started our decent on Karretjies Pass the road is showing little signs of other traffic. The road surface is getting more rugged with more and more loose stones, some of which kicks up from the front wheel hitting the sump guards and under sides of the bikes with load clangs and bangs.
After waiting to check that everyone got safely over a difficult technical section I discovered my battery has run down and I needed a push to get going again. Checking the voltage with the rally computer on the engine information menu I could make out that because of the slow going the charging voltage is to low to keep the battery fully charged.
This is a problem as we need to drive slower and slower to keep in pace with the deteriorating road conditions.
After a section of some serous loose rocks where I constantly jumped stones with the big HPN, both wheels clearing the air, we arrived at a closed gate. While waiting for the last bike to get through someone noticed the pool of oil collecting under the engine sump of Howard’s R80G/S. A stone hit right through the aluminium sump guard and cracked the sump. Howard unceremoniously chucked to G/S over on its side, forked out a spanner and remover the sump guard. The crack was about 4 inches long and the amount of oil coming out would empty the sump in no time. Fortunately I had some Alcolin mend everything magic putty and within minutes the crack was filled with the stuff and it turned hard as rock. After checking the oil level we were of again.
We approach another gate and someone came up from behind to open up for me but I am not so sure about going through as there is stones packed carefully in a line across the road as to say do not go down here, and this just after another faint track veers of to the right.
I ignored the signs and carried on with the rest of the guys following the road down a steep rocky section into a riverbank. Suddenly there was thick sand and trees blocking most of what would have been the road with very faint tracks of another motorcycle that went through, possibly months back, so I though maybe bikes can go through were cars could not and I kept going, besides I could not figure out how I was going to turn around this monster bike in soft sand and a road sided by thorn trees from all directions. Eventually I was forced to a halt by a big pool of water lined by impenetrable thorn trees. I was stuck with a bike that won’t start if it stalled and everyone else is pilling up behind me fast. I turned around and signalled to the guys behind to stop and managed to get at least half the group from getting into this mess. I had to wait patiently for the guys behind me to turn around and haul their bikes out of the thick sand before I could go. Wynand helped me push the HPN back some distance before I had enough room to turn around and by this time the relatively manageable sand has now been turned up so much it is chaos to try and keep the beast upright, but most importantly to make sure it does not stall. I was roaring through the sand and two meters short of firm soil a deep rut throw me off coarse and I topple over. I jumped up like lightning but before I could pull in the clutch the drag of the turning back wheel stalls the motor. Behind me sand and in front the steep riverbank. The only way was to push the bike up the hill and turn it around and hope to get it fired up before I get to the sand. Fortunately the warm motor does not need encouragement and fires up right away but stalled once more before I finally managed to get it going meters before the sand.
We backtracked to the gate and left on the other track. Soon after we are heading into the riverbank again this time I was overly cautious and not seeing a road coming out on the other side and one large wall of sand blocking the road I turned to follow another track that led us to another gate a few hundred yards away. The gate was locked so the last grossing had to be the way. I send in Stefan to go make sure it is fine so that I will not get stuck again should the road not go right trough but this time around we were at the right grossing over the Tra Tra river. I waited for the guys to get through and finally it was my turn, I cautiously entered the dry riverbed filled with loose rocks and then straight into this wall of soft white sand. I managed to get across with flailing legs, regained my composure and carried on while the rest of the group was still waiting for Oliver to get trough who forced his pillion to make use of his own two legs over these tricky spots.
A few yards down and I was blocked by an ominous looking stream, even though the water was not flowing very strong it was brown and it looked deep so I had to get of and walked through first, I could not wait for the rest because I have to keep a warm air cooled motor running, not a good thing if you are going to take to long. My walk through the river assured me that it is not as bad as it looks and of I went in my wet boots. Nobody was around to see me perform this exercise so when the rest of the group arrived on the other side I could detect the looks of uncertainty in their eyes. Stefan probably felt that it should be okay if I made it to the other side and nervously poked his front wheel down the very steep side into the water. He strayed over to far to the right and drove into a whole big enough to swallow almost the entire 19” size of the 1200GS front wheel. It took some effort and wet boots of his fellow riders to get him out and the rest made it trough easily.
Stefan stuck in the Tra Tra River.
Stefan making it out of the Tra Tra River.
On the banks of the Tra Tra River
In the meanwhile my bike have stalled again when I tried to indicate to the rest of the group that they can get through. Some more pushing and a short dry section of good road and we were at the rugged low water crossing of the Doring rivier. Michiel stopped to have a quick word with Cobus at the main farmstead of Elandsvlei and then it was of to cover the long fast straights of the R355 back to Ceres.
All in all we spend four hours to cover the nearly 55km from the Biedouw valley to Elandsvlei. The average speed was mostly around 30km/h for the drive time but with all the stops we average less than 15km/h.
Although it can be done in half the time if you do not get lost, brake your sump or get a flat and with no stopping to appreciate the beauty of the place I would recommend to plan for the extra time as things can easily go wrong on this rough track across the Tra Tra mountains.
Oh and for those who wanted to know, Cobus se Gat is found right where the road crosses the Tra Tra River. The remains of the camping huts can still be seen standing on the riverbanks.
Overlooking Wellington on the Bainskloof Pass.
