So the boss steps into my office announcing my leave 22nd December to 8th of January, my head goes into overload I have all this time to bike? where do I start, I need to be in Port Alfred for Christmas and then I am a free man..
The journey starts on Friday the 22nd December my mate Henry John and I leave Somerset West head to Caledon for what turned out to be a pool party listening to Frank Sinatra, wake up early and hit the road to Oudtshoorn we take the dirt roads just outside Montagu getting as far as Keeskraal until we are told by a Park Ranger that the roads ends there and we must go back to Montagu if we wish to go onto Oudtshoorn? We hit the R62 until Barrydale where we meet a biker who is travelling by himself and likes the sound of our trip, so he joins us.
Stormsvlei Road
Kogmanskloof
After Ladismith we take a left to Seweweekspoort, we make it to Bosluiskloof and head to Oudtshoorn from here we go to Cango Caves sleep over at Cango Mountain Resort.
After some interesting conversation around the campfire, we head to bed in search of the meaning of life. Next day wake up at 5 my new friend, Mullen and I head to Uniondale for our last fill-up until the end of Baviaanskloof. Unfortunately I was in a bit of a rush being Sunday 11:00 and having to get to Port Alfred for Christmas dinner at 18:00 so I will admit to pushing it a little, as for Mullen I don?t think he has had a lot of experience on the rough stuff, so he landed up trying to keep up which resulted in a couple of wipe-outs, after the 4th one I decided it wasn?t right of me to be rushing his trip for my obligations. So I said cheers wanting to rush ahead to check that we where on the right route, about 3 min later I came around a corner and found two Germans in a rented Uno doing the Baviaanskloof in a very different style, once establishing that I was on the right route my old pal came fling around the corner into a tree, feeling really bad for leaving him in the beginning and find out we only had 15km left to do, I decided to ride slowly behind him until we where out of the Baviaans.
Filling up at Uniondale
Arriving in Patensie at 15:30 rushed to Port Alfred and was able to make my mother happy.
The view from my mothers house overlooking Port Alfreds golf course.
Took a day off from biking and met up with some mates in P.E
The next leg? To Kei Mouth / Morgan Bay just outside of East London for new years then to Barkly East through the old Transkei.
Nicole and I, after lunch took a spin up to the cliffs of Morgan bay, I love the Wild Coast if this was Cape Town there would be a Golf estate right here, where only the elite could pay homage to this view.
Driving up the Kei Cuttings is always an experience, live stock plague the road, Transkei drives in there Busses, cars, trucks and taxis all with illusions of granger overtaking on blind rises, vanquishing every solid line on the road. Arrive in Elliot at about 13:00 I can start to relax now, I am back in the Eastern Cape where the only thing I need to worry about is a local farmers doing there routine roadside farming while driving. I hit Barkly East, grab a burger at The Big Time and aim towards Wartrail, towards home I feel alive again, ardent deja vu at ever corner, field, river and mountain, I use to picture it lying in bed in hostel at boarding school in Queenstown. I arrive at Wartrail Farm just after lunch to a silent farm, long has it been since you hit the kill switch on the bike the sound of nature quietly starts to fill your muffled ears with it?s rareness..
The old Kei Bridge
Qumanco River Transkei
10 km after Bakly East on route to Wartrail / Tiffindell road
The road approaching Wartrail Farm.
We sit down in shade and enjoy S.A.B cool drinks.
Next day my brother and I head-up the Watrail valley to the Family Farm, Bidstone.
After feeling really homesick we decided to shake it off with a ride in our backyard, to Tiffindell Ski Resort which is only 21km?s from our farm. So we mission on up the road to my neighbours farm (Mutts Nutts) who happend to be sitting in an office in Stellenbosch, asked him for his 550 XT plaas bike, drink his beers and swim in his fountain, after taking full advantage of the situation
my brother and I mission to Tiffindell. You know what I really love about this place besides the great people (which all are just about related to me) and the beautiful gardens with there majestic mountain back drops, is that there are only dirt roads.
The start of the road to Tiffindell
We I don?t know whether you are going to believe this one, the first time during this trip I decide not to wear any biking-kit, just a hat and shorts as I am in my ?Natural habitat? I come around a well known corner ( My dad almost died here having to sleep in a gumhuis with some herd boys after getting stuck in the snow with a tractor, so the place has some history). Anyway back to the story, came around this corner to find a rather large Rinkhals which is very common for this time of year, lifted my feet, and the front tyre slid along with the spine of the snake and I landed-up going straight off the road and into some well camouflaged rocks which buckled the front rime, kicked off my top case and all it?s contents and left me jumping up and down after pulverising my manhood against the ?petrol tank?. So we made it up to Tiffindell with incident, but what is a journey without. Had lunch with the owner Ivan and go permission to tested their new road to the top of the resort.
On the way back we had to motor due to the closing weather, we hit sleet on the way down which made swimming in Clifton feel like a heated pool. So after a Braai that night with the family and meeting some new Isteds, it was time to map out the next days trip to Lesotho and to close the deal with my brother, the deal being if he bought me a back tyre for my bike I would follow him into this valley he had wanted to go to for the past 9 years the ?Shangri la? of Lesotho. So we started early reaching the zenith of Lundean?s Nek by 8:00 and head towards Telebridge border post.
Lundean?s Nek
My brother showing me the alternative route into the motherland of African?s mountains, encase my friends passport doesn?t get me in?
Once through the boarder post without a hitch I respectively phone the owner of the passport to inform him not to go anywhere on his Italian passport as he was now in Lesotho for two days.
Driving along the Sinqua River which becomes the Orange later over the boarder, 20km after Quthing we take a right towards Tosing then onto Ralebona in the map book it just says Rock Paintings to where my brother points out or destination, not 1 km after I hit the dirt does my Top case comes flying off, lucky for me the quedines are only to happy to return it to me, in search of sweets or money, an easy transaction to make compare to what would have happened if the taxi had been travelling closer behind me. The further I drove into this valley the more it started to feel like I was on one of Kingsley Holgate?s adventures, the intermissions between trading stores and huts become less and the road and people seem to be of a prehistoric age with there primitive hand held tools in the lands. I continue down the tunnel that didn?t make sense to me, we where going up the valley towards where the river started but yet the roads steeped downwards at every bend.
Then it started to rain, pitches of the deepest coldest mountain water earth had to offer, I quickly found myself doing the fetal position under a Weeping Willow waiting for my brother to come around the corner with my top case with all the necessaries, he took awhile. Once I got it back the locals pulled out of hiding like the little furry creatures from Star wars to find out what this omlungo was up to on his horse with round feet, I shared a tin of tuner and said goodbye to the creatures.
Finally after 40km of hard work our accommodation, when I took this picture I didn?t know it was where we where staying, but if you knew my brother you wouldn?t be surprised ether, he?s like a box of chocolates. So after finding an interrupter we got the facts from the chief, R65 a night, per person in the chalet, once that was established we where taken to our ?chalet? where the chief helped carry our cooler box down for us. My brother looked in the guest book we were the twelve people to stay there, three where American Peace keepers the others local from the area.
The neighbour helping us with some atmosphere, we sat and drank warm beer until the moon came up that night, which was later considering the height of the mountains around us..
URL=https://img155.imageshack.us/my.php?image=dsc08536ra9.jpg]
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Woke up to sound of the village waking up and getting along with their daily choirs, the sound of live stock moving up the pass to the summit camps on the mountain, the laughter of children? there is a different pace of life up here in the mountains of Lesotho, I thought to myself as I climb out of my bed looking for my lilo, towel and soap on a rope.
After a cold bathe we head back up the mountain to our spot on the hill, to cook breakfast (note to bikers: Prepsol works for degreasing skottels too).
After breakfast we hit the same 40km of dirt from the day before.
After the border it started to rain again, but this time it was pissed off and started chucking bolt of lighting to the ground, so I did what any sensible biker stuck in the rain would do, find the closet bar or hotel in this case it was the Lady Grey Hotel. This happens to be a bar my father used to get stuck in every time he went to Aliwal North, and my brother and I found ourselves in the same position, meeting the friendly locals one of them was a biker and was keen to show off his bike, why I wasn?t going anywhere in the weather so what the hell, he fetch the bike and bought it into the bar, literally. This is a Suzuki DR800 single cyclinder this guy had bought it in Saudi it?s was built for the Dakar but this guy standing in the picture the own reckons it doesn?t do sand. I thought I was pretty cool getting into Lesotho with my friends Passport until I met a local in the pub who got in using his wife?s.
After 5 beers and meeting half the town at happy hour the weather had opened and it was time to push on through with the great trek back to the big dam surrounded by pretentious fynbos.
The road to Aliwal North
The Old Hendrik Verwoerddam
On route to Nieu Bethesda for lunch, at this stage I just wanted to kill my brother afte narrowly missing our kayak at 120km after the strap broke on the back of my brothers vehicle
Cooling down on route to Beaufort West
If you ever have to spend the night in Beaufort West, stay at the Karoo National Park, it also has some great 4x4 tracks.
Next day Cape Town...
The journey starts on Friday the 22nd December my mate Henry John and I leave Somerset West head to Caledon for what turned out to be a pool party listening to Frank Sinatra, wake up early and hit the road to Oudtshoorn we take the dirt roads just outside Montagu getting as far as Keeskraal until we are told by a Park Ranger that the roads ends there and we must go back to Montagu if we wish to go onto Oudtshoorn? We hit the R62 until Barrydale where we meet a biker who is travelling by himself and likes the sound of our trip, so he joins us.
Stormsvlei Road
Kogmanskloof
After Ladismith we take a left to Seweweekspoort, we make it to Bosluiskloof and head to Oudtshoorn from here we go to Cango Caves sleep over at Cango Mountain Resort.
After some interesting conversation around the campfire, we head to bed in search of the meaning of life. Next day wake up at 5 my new friend, Mullen and I head to Uniondale for our last fill-up until the end of Baviaanskloof. Unfortunately I was in a bit of a rush being Sunday 11:00 and having to get to Port Alfred for Christmas dinner at 18:00 so I will admit to pushing it a little, as for Mullen I don?t think he has had a lot of experience on the rough stuff, so he landed up trying to keep up which resulted in a couple of wipe-outs, after the 4th one I decided it wasn?t right of me to be rushing his trip for my obligations. So I said cheers wanting to rush ahead to check that we where on the right route, about 3 min later I came around a corner and found two Germans in a rented Uno doing the Baviaanskloof in a very different style, once establishing that I was on the right route my old pal came fling around the corner into a tree, feeling really bad for leaving him in the beginning and find out we only had 15km left to do, I decided to ride slowly behind him until we where out of the Baviaans.
Filling up at Uniondale
Arriving in Patensie at 15:30 rushed to Port Alfred and was able to make my mother happy.
The view from my mothers house overlooking Port Alfreds golf course.
Took a day off from biking and met up with some mates in P.E
The next leg? To Kei Mouth / Morgan Bay just outside of East London for new years then to Barkly East through the old Transkei.
Nicole and I, after lunch took a spin up to the cliffs of Morgan bay, I love the Wild Coast if this was Cape Town there would be a Golf estate right here, where only the elite could pay homage to this view.
Driving up the Kei Cuttings is always an experience, live stock plague the road, Transkei drives in there Busses, cars, trucks and taxis all with illusions of granger overtaking on blind rises, vanquishing every solid line on the road. Arrive in Elliot at about 13:00 I can start to relax now, I am back in the Eastern Cape where the only thing I need to worry about is a local farmers doing there routine roadside farming while driving. I hit Barkly East, grab a burger at The Big Time and aim towards Wartrail, towards home I feel alive again, ardent deja vu at ever corner, field, river and mountain, I use to picture it lying in bed in hostel at boarding school in Queenstown. I arrive at Wartrail Farm just after lunch to a silent farm, long has it been since you hit the kill switch on the bike the sound of nature quietly starts to fill your muffled ears with it?s rareness..
The old Kei Bridge
Qumanco River Transkei
10 km after Bakly East on route to Wartrail / Tiffindell road
The road approaching Wartrail Farm.
We sit down in shade and enjoy S.A.B cool drinks.
Next day my brother and I head-up the Watrail valley to the Family Farm, Bidstone.
After feeling really homesick we decided to shake it off with a ride in our backyard, to Tiffindell Ski Resort which is only 21km?s from our farm. So we mission on up the road to my neighbours farm (Mutts Nutts) who happend to be sitting in an office in Stellenbosch, asked him for his 550 XT plaas bike, drink his beers and swim in his fountain, after taking full advantage of the situation
my brother and I mission to Tiffindell. You know what I really love about this place besides the great people (which all are just about related to me) and the beautiful gardens with there majestic mountain back drops, is that there are only dirt roads.
The start of the road to Tiffindell
We I don?t know whether you are going to believe this one, the first time during this trip I decide not to wear any biking-kit, just a hat and shorts as I am in my ?Natural habitat? I come around a well known corner ( My dad almost died here having to sleep in a gumhuis with some herd boys after getting stuck in the snow with a tractor, so the place has some history). Anyway back to the story, came around this corner to find a rather large Rinkhals which is very common for this time of year, lifted my feet, and the front tyre slid along with the spine of the snake and I landed-up going straight off the road and into some well camouflaged rocks which buckled the front rime, kicked off my top case and all it?s contents and left me jumping up and down after pulverising my manhood against the ?petrol tank?. So we made it up to Tiffindell with incident, but what is a journey without. Had lunch with the owner Ivan and go permission to tested their new road to the top of the resort.
On the way back we had to motor due to the closing weather, we hit sleet on the way down which made swimming in Clifton feel like a heated pool. So after a Braai that night with the family and meeting some new Isteds, it was time to map out the next days trip to Lesotho and to close the deal with my brother, the deal being if he bought me a back tyre for my bike I would follow him into this valley he had wanted to go to for the past 9 years the ?Shangri la? of Lesotho. So we started early reaching the zenith of Lundean?s Nek by 8:00 and head towards Telebridge border post.
Lundean?s Nek
My brother showing me the alternative route into the motherland of African?s mountains, encase my friends passport doesn?t get me in?
Once through the boarder post without a hitch I respectively phone the owner of the passport to inform him not to go anywhere on his Italian passport as he was now in Lesotho for two days.
Driving along the Sinqua River which becomes the Orange later over the boarder, 20km after Quthing we take a right towards Tosing then onto Ralebona in the map book it just says Rock Paintings to where my brother points out or destination, not 1 km after I hit the dirt does my Top case comes flying off, lucky for me the quedines are only to happy to return it to me, in search of sweets or money, an easy transaction to make compare to what would have happened if the taxi had been travelling closer behind me. The further I drove into this valley the more it started to feel like I was on one of Kingsley Holgate?s adventures, the intermissions between trading stores and huts become less and the road and people seem to be of a prehistoric age with there primitive hand held tools in the lands. I continue down the tunnel that didn?t make sense to me, we where going up the valley towards where the river started but yet the roads steeped downwards at every bend.
Then it started to rain, pitches of the deepest coldest mountain water earth had to offer, I quickly found myself doing the fetal position under a Weeping Willow waiting for my brother to come around the corner with my top case with all the necessaries, he took awhile. Once I got it back the locals pulled out of hiding like the little furry creatures from Star wars to find out what this omlungo was up to on his horse with round feet, I shared a tin of tuner and said goodbye to the creatures.
Finally after 40km of hard work our accommodation, when I took this picture I didn?t know it was where we where staying, but if you knew my brother you wouldn?t be surprised ether, he?s like a box of chocolates. So after finding an interrupter we got the facts from the chief, R65 a night, per person in the chalet, once that was established we where taken to our ?chalet? where the chief helped carry our cooler box down for us. My brother looked in the guest book we were the twelve people to stay there, three where American Peace keepers the others local from the area.
The neighbour helping us with some atmosphere, we sat and drank warm beer until the moon came up that night, which was later considering the height of the mountains around us..
URL=https://img155.imageshack.us/my.php?image=dsc08536ra9.jpg]
Woke up to sound of the village waking up and getting along with their daily choirs, the sound of live stock moving up the pass to the summit camps on the mountain, the laughter of children? there is a different pace of life up here in the mountains of Lesotho, I thought to myself as I climb out of my bed looking for my lilo, towel and soap on a rope.
After a cold bathe we head back up the mountain to our spot on the hill, to cook breakfast (note to bikers: Prepsol works for degreasing skottels too).
After breakfast we hit the same 40km of dirt from the day before.
After the border it started to rain again, but this time it was pissed off and started chucking bolt of lighting to the ground, so I did what any sensible biker stuck in the rain would do, find the closet bar or hotel in this case it was the Lady Grey Hotel. This happens to be a bar my father used to get stuck in every time he went to Aliwal North, and my brother and I found ourselves in the same position, meeting the friendly locals one of them was a biker and was keen to show off his bike, why I wasn?t going anywhere in the weather so what the hell, he fetch the bike and bought it into the bar, literally. This is a Suzuki DR800 single cyclinder this guy had bought it in Saudi it?s was built for the Dakar but this guy standing in the picture the own reckons it doesn?t do sand. I thought I was pretty cool getting into Lesotho with my friends Passport until I met a local in the pub who got in using his wife?s.
After 5 beers and meeting half the town at happy hour the weather had opened and it was time to push on through with the great trek back to the big dam surrounded by pretentious fynbos.
The road to Aliwal North
The Old Hendrik Verwoerddam
On route to Nieu Bethesda for lunch, at this stage I just wanted to kill my brother afte narrowly missing our kayak at 120km after the strap broke on the back of my brothers vehicle
Cooling down on route to Beaufort West
If you ever have to spend the night in Beaufort West, stay at the Karoo National Park, it also has some great 4x4 tracks.
Next day Cape Town...
