Splash
Race Dog
Pre-Rallye Raid Part Two – Revenge of the Orange. This should bring terror to the hearts of any serious adventure biker. We had the dreaded DeWildt as our destination. Eight brave souls turned up for this. Apart from one 690 (scathingly christened as a cheat bike) one was surrounded by 990’s. Fun was going to be had.
We started of eastwards out of Pretoria with a little river crossing to navigate. Not to loose face, everyone got across despite some nervous moments. No blood yet. More was to come. Turning off onto a railway service road the merry party came to a halt. The cheat bike had a puncture. I have my suspicions that this was somehow planned.
A large nail had found its way into my rear tyre. This was remarkable as they told me they normally ride around nails. 990 riders are real men obviously. The tube was acupunctured to death and was not going to hold any air again in its life. Discarded and having to settle for an emergency 21” front tube I was on my way in not time.
The little voice which likes to warn and eventually stops shouting when all hell breaks loose was sitting on my shoulder. We had just started the ride. I was not about to turn around and head home. The day was surely to become eventful. It was at my expense ultimately.
On we rode enjoying the Sunday morning adventure. One of the participants had unwittingly brought a whole lot of trouble his way. He had been a Harley rider. Can you imagine and now he was riding an adventure bike. He was going to be tested and failure was an option.
Boys and their toys were not playing altogether nicely together. Three riders gave up rather sooner than later and headed off to some other more pressing engagement not mentioned earlier. Our little party became five. Rides somehow go like that.
Before the big wild crossing we refuelled. The menace sitting on my shoulder became a real nuisance when I had to put air in my rear tyre. Alarms ringing and no one listening. On I went fully expecting to get home no later than lunch time. Penalties were building.
Through a township we crossed a ditch where one rider managed to drop his bike twice at the same spot. It was sad. Good think I did not fall over laughing, someone else was going to have their moment.
Our leader seems to have a better memory of having a better memory than actually finding the right way. Some interesting detours and excellent demonstrations of why one should never ever consider riding a Harley. A certain rider may have had a moment or two of remorse that he ever went orange. Was saying something about tassels’ on the handle bars are great to know if one is going forward or not. They got the 990’s up to 200 km/h on the tar sections. Take that, mud monster the one minute, superbike the next.
Eventually, the last dirt section of about 30 km before heading home. Ready for some real playing. All going great and little voice forgotten until a moment of immediate deflation. Now I was in trouble. No spare and totally useless at patching a tube. This in the middle of nowhere. The tube had a scuff hole from being folded as it was too long. In desperation we tried to patch it. For additional assurance we filled the tyre with spray. You guessed it, we were hopeless. Next, cable ties to keep the tyre on the rim. They lasted all of a couple of metres before breaking off. What was one to do but carry on?
Someone was looking after us after all. Along the dirt track came a truck and horse box. We did a little dance when they agreed to take the bike back to their place and relative civilization. I got a joy ride at 200 km/h as pillion to my house to fetch my bike trailer. By 6:30 pm all was done. Thanks to Apie and Tim for rescuing me. Turns out that they have done rescue work for trips before in their “off season”. They do fire control work during winter.
Some lessons learnt. Need to look at my kit I am taking to Rallye Raid. Bits get used and don’t get replaced and carrying an 18” tube is a good idea.
Thanks Pro Action and Terry. These are truly remarkable bikes.
Pictures
We started of eastwards out of Pretoria with a little river crossing to navigate. Not to loose face, everyone got across despite some nervous moments. No blood yet. More was to come. Turning off onto a railway service road the merry party came to a halt. The cheat bike had a puncture. I have my suspicions that this was somehow planned.
A large nail had found its way into my rear tyre. This was remarkable as they told me they normally ride around nails. 990 riders are real men obviously. The tube was acupunctured to death and was not going to hold any air again in its life. Discarded and having to settle for an emergency 21” front tube I was on my way in not time.
The little voice which likes to warn and eventually stops shouting when all hell breaks loose was sitting on my shoulder. We had just started the ride. I was not about to turn around and head home. The day was surely to become eventful. It was at my expense ultimately.
On we rode enjoying the Sunday morning adventure. One of the participants had unwittingly brought a whole lot of trouble his way. He had been a Harley rider. Can you imagine and now he was riding an adventure bike. He was going to be tested and failure was an option.
Boys and their toys were not playing altogether nicely together. Three riders gave up rather sooner than later and headed off to some other more pressing engagement not mentioned earlier. Our little party became five. Rides somehow go like that.
Before the big wild crossing we refuelled. The menace sitting on my shoulder became a real nuisance when I had to put air in my rear tyre. Alarms ringing and no one listening. On I went fully expecting to get home no later than lunch time. Penalties were building.
Through a township we crossed a ditch where one rider managed to drop his bike twice at the same spot. It was sad. Good think I did not fall over laughing, someone else was going to have their moment.
Our leader seems to have a better memory of having a better memory than actually finding the right way. Some interesting detours and excellent demonstrations of why one should never ever consider riding a Harley. A certain rider may have had a moment or two of remorse that he ever went orange. Was saying something about tassels’ on the handle bars are great to know if one is going forward or not. They got the 990’s up to 200 km/h on the tar sections. Take that, mud monster the one minute, superbike the next.
Eventually, the last dirt section of about 30 km before heading home. Ready for some real playing. All going great and little voice forgotten until a moment of immediate deflation. Now I was in trouble. No spare and totally useless at patching a tube. This in the middle of nowhere. The tube had a scuff hole from being folded as it was too long. In desperation we tried to patch it. For additional assurance we filled the tyre with spray. You guessed it, we were hopeless. Next, cable ties to keep the tyre on the rim. They lasted all of a couple of metres before breaking off. What was one to do but carry on?
Someone was looking after us after all. Along the dirt track came a truck and horse box. We did a little dance when they agreed to take the bike back to their place and relative civilization. I got a joy ride at 200 km/h as pillion to my house to fetch my bike trailer. By 6:30 pm all was done. Thanks to Apie and Tim for rescuing me. Turns out that they have done rescue work for trips before in their “off season”. They do fire control work during winter.
Some lessons learnt. Need to look at my kit I am taking to Rallye Raid. Bits get used and don’t get replaced and carrying an 18” tube is a good idea.
Thanks Pro Action and Terry. These are truly remarkable bikes.
Pictures
