JustBendIt
Grey Hound
This is my first ever ride report. I have tried before but am a real "luigat" when it comes down to this stuff and have therefore never bothered to actually write one until now.Thanks to Kamanya for kicking my arse and making me do this – I am actually enjoying putting it all down.
The title comes from Kamanya - he is always telling me to take a spoon of cement and HTFU (Harden The ^&*% Up!) - what a nice guy hey ? what you could call a real motivator!
Part 1 - The Beginning
On Thursday 17 March a “buitelander” John Travolta from Pulp Fiction look-alike (aka Erman Balkin from Istanbul, Turkey) arrives at my workshop and asks me to fix the exhaust on his Dakar. He tells me in seriously kak broken English that he is a professional freelance translator of mainly news web pages from English to Turkish and his job allows him to literally work from anywhere in the world. He came to RSA for 2 weeks to see the place and ride some bikes – it is over 6 months later and he is still here. He also tells me he loves Facebook and tries to show me hundreds of kak boring pics and lots of HD videos of him and his mates riding some kief I mean kak boneys on some seriously twisty roads in the Italian Dolomites and the Swiss Alps – yawn. After watching 3 hours of his videos and forcing me to look at almost 2000 photos I tell him I am lank busy and he must duck. I think to myself "Jislaaik – I must make a plan to get to Europe on a bike."
3 days later he is sitting in my mirror – Kneelo, Travolta and I are on our way to Namakwaland
We meet at the local garage on Monday 21 March – it is very awkward – I don’t really know Kneelo and I sure don’t know Travolta – many “what ifs” are running through my head – I am about to spend a week with 2 strangers on bikes in some rough shit …
We pose for the obligatory pre-trip pic
Travolta on left, me in the middle and Kneelo on the right
We hit the road and head for the N7 – today will be a slog on the tar all the way to Springbok – 600 odd kays of mind numbing but therapeutic riding. Elton John’s “Rocket Man” plays over and over in my head – my all time favourite helmet song
Within 90 odd minutes we stop to fill up and grab a quick bite at Piketberg Spur
The time and the towns whizz by – Citrusdal, Clanwilliam, Klawer, Garies and then we’re there – in front of us lies the sprawling metropolis of Springbok. It is 4 pm and we make our way to Springbok Lodge where Oom Jopie gives us the keys to our own house and mutters something about “vokken bikers”
We unpack, undress, put on our Sunday best and immediately hit the streets on foot to check out the action – there is none – it is 5 pm on a public holiday Monday afternoon in Springbok – dunno what the %^$& we expected ?
We are soon sitting in Oom Jopie’s dining room drinking ice-cold beers and smashing some chow in our faces. We retire to our lodgings and are all fast asleep by 8 pm – tomorrow is a big day.
Tuesday dawns – and very early in Springbok I might add. We are all up before 6 am. I am keen to get going ASAP to avoid the heat but Travolta and Kneelo are in no rush. After a slow brekkie at Oom Jopie’s spot we are ready to go – Namakwaland awaits
Travolta bids a sad farewell to his Namakwa Daisy and promises to come back for her …
We ride 50 odd km up the N7 to Steinkopf where we stop to fill up – this will be the last fuel before we reach Pofadder – only 160 km as the crow flies but our route will be almost double that – through rocks and thick soft sand. I expect the bikes to be thirsty. I was here last year with Kamanya and his bike gobbled up 50l and was empty by the time we hit Pella. I am also on a KTM 950 and only have half the fuel to do the same distance … gulp!
My SE holds 14 litres and I am carrying 2 X 5l jerry cans – I hope this will be enough. I am highly allergic to pushing bikes. Kneelo and Travolta both have fancy fuel bladders with them. Kneelo fills his and the petrol pisses straight out – the canvas has come away from the filler neck – I smile and pretend all is OK but am silently cursing – I think about the 7 P’s – Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance – this bladder should have been checked in Cape Town – those lost 7 litres of fuel could make all the difference …
On the forecourt we spot the Easter bunny and his mates – the pompjoggie informs me these are not pets – they are for the pot. Africa is not for sissies.
All bikes filled and our bladders emptied – we roll out and continue north – I am very nervous – what ifs are flying through my head
After another 30 odd km (we are now only about 30 km from the RSA/NAM order) we turn right off the N7 and hit the dirt for the first time – it is 10h30 on Tues 22 March – the mercury is already sitting at 35 deg C.
Travolta takes this pic – note how clean the bike is and what a beautiful fancy screen it has – bought from Topbox only 3 days ago
Tyres are deflated to 1.5 bar front and back – we have been running them hard on the tar and it is time to let some sky out of our rounds – the sand literally starts straight away – I can see it not more than 50m away
This is my favourite riding area – I have ridden about 50 000 km on many different bikes in the last few years through Southern Africa – NAM, Lesotho, MOZ, Baviaans, E Tvl, N Tvl, Drakensberg, Southern Cape, Northern Cape, Karoo, Cederberg been there ridden that – for me nothing comes close to Namakwaland – I truly feel alive here – to me this is Africa at its best – cruel yet kind, ugly yet beautiful, harsh but fair.
A Kokerboom looks over my KTM
We have been riding on the dirt for an hour – the bikes are tired so the cowboys stop to let the horses rest
I have a very vague idea of where we’re going and all I know is that the closer we get to the mountains and the Orange River the rougher the riding gets – I am leading the ride and purposely choose every little goat track I can find – I want to see the Orange River – I want to show off its majesty to Travolta my Turkish friend. He is not looking so good – I know his Dakar is a pig in the sand – crap suspension and very top heavy not to mention the big DSLR camera, tripod and laptop he is carrying under his full fuel bladder – he is feeling every bump and probably wondering how the liquid crystals are running out of his flat screen. Kneelo is like the tortoise – sure and steady (but not as slow) and always there on his orange X Challenge – he is very quiet – I think he is scared of me. I am loving my new SE – it really is the best dirt bike I have had out of the 23 bikes that I have owned in the last 4 years. I am so glad I got rid of that 990 S – my short legs would never be able to hold that beast up in this stuff.
Time flies when you’re having fun. We ride down a beautiful valley blindly following my GPS – thick riverbed sand sucks at our wheels and sharp rocks bite at our tyres and leave teeth marks in our bashplates. The bikes are lightly packed, except for Travolta’s, but still the luggage bounces up and down, especially my extra fuel on the back, and must be regularly checked and straps re-fastened.
We get to the end of the valley and stare upwards at a steep climb that looks like it goes over the mountain and heads towards the river – we must go there.
Travolta leads the way and very soon decides to lie down and rest.
Shortly followed by me
Kneelo makes it past both of us but then runs off line and gets stuck in a rut
I’m a bit concerned – I don’t think Travolta and Kneelo are digging this so much – I don’t think they like me – I feel like Captain William Bligh on the Bounty right before the shit hit the fan.
We gather ourselves and pick up the bikes. Travolta takes this shot as Kneelo points from whence we just came. The pics never show how steep it really is.
We manage to get going again and carefully cajole our bikes to the top of this pass.
We are greeted by this sight.
I nearly wet my pants I am so excited. The Road to Hell. We have literally stumbled upon the holy grail of extreme DS biking. I have heard about this road but always secretly doubted its existence. I feel like a spotty teenager who has got hold of his first porno mag.
We all pose next to “The Rock”
It is now 2 pm. its bliksem hot, the bikes are exhausted and we are feeling a little tired. I make a mental note to bring a fitter bike next time. We are running out of water fast. Kneelo is very quiet – I am getting very worried about him. He is a vris and fit oke. I imagine him moering me over the head with a rock ala Lord of the Flies. I persuade Travolta and Kneelo that we must go down this road because the river is “just around the corner” and I tell them that there is a famous pub down there that sells ice cold beers – they fall for it and off we ride – I am in front.
2 minutes later I put my hand up and we stop.
This road is bliksems steep. There are a moerse lot of rocks here. I am kakking myself.
I call an urgent board meeting and confess I lied about the pub and the ice-cold beers. I cannot guarantee that once we reach the river we can ride along it and fear that we may have to ride out this way again. It is late, the bikes are tired, our water is running out and Travolta has not been able to update his Facebook status since we left Springbok.
We help each other to turn the bikes around – this takes 30 min of sweating and groaning – these bikes are really moeg by now.
I remember to mark the waypoint in my GPS – I am definitely coming back here!
Part 2 and 4 more days to follow ...
The title comes from Kamanya - he is always telling me to take a spoon of cement and HTFU (Harden The ^&*% Up!) - what a nice guy hey ? what you could call a real motivator!
Part 1 - The Beginning
On Thursday 17 March a “buitelander” John Travolta from Pulp Fiction look-alike (aka Erman Balkin from Istanbul, Turkey) arrives at my workshop and asks me to fix the exhaust on his Dakar. He tells me in seriously kak broken English that he is a professional freelance translator of mainly news web pages from English to Turkish and his job allows him to literally work from anywhere in the world. He came to RSA for 2 weeks to see the place and ride some bikes – it is over 6 months later and he is still here. He also tells me he loves Facebook and tries to show me hundreds of kak boring pics and lots of HD videos of him and his mates riding some kief I mean kak boneys on some seriously twisty roads in the Italian Dolomites and the Swiss Alps – yawn. After watching 3 hours of his videos and forcing me to look at almost 2000 photos I tell him I am lank busy and he must duck. I think to myself "Jislaaik – I must make a plan to get to Europe on a bike."
3 days later he is sitting in my mirror – Kneelo, Travolta and I are on our way to Namakwaland
We meet at the local garage on Monday 21 March – it is very awkward – I don’t really know Kneelo and I sure don’t know Travolta – many “what ifs” are running through my head – I am about to spend a week with 2 strangers on bikes in some rough shit …
We pose for the obligatory pre-trip pic
Travolta on left, me in the middle and Kneelo on the right
We hit the road and head for the N7 – today will be a slog on the tar all the way to Springbok – 600 odd kays of mind numbing but therapeutic riding. Elton John’s “Rocket Man” plays over and over in my head – my all time favourite helmet song
Within 90 odd minutes we stop to fill up and grab a quick bite at Piketberg Spur
The time and the towns whizz by – Citrusdal, Clanwilliam, Klawer, Garies and then we’re there – in front of us lies the sprawling metropolis of Springbok. It is 4 pm and we make our way to Springbok Lodge where Oom Jopie gives us the keys to our own house and mutters something about “vokken bikers”
We unpack, undress, put on our Sunday best and immediately hit the streets on foot to check out the action – there is none – it is 5 pm on a public holiday Monday afternoon in Springbok – dunno what the %^$& we expected ?
We are soon sitting in Oom Jopie’s dining room drinking ice-cold beers and smashing some chow in our faces. We retire to our lodgings and are all fast asleep by 8 pm – tomorrow is a big day.
Tuesday dawns – and very early in Springbok I might add. We are all up before 6 am. I am keen to get going ASAP to avoid the heat but Travolta and Kneelo are in no rush. After a slow brekkie at Oom Jopie’s spot we are ready to go – Namakwaland awaits
Travolta bids a sad farewell to his Namakwa Daisy and promises to come back for her …
We ride 50 odd km up the N7 to Steinkopf where we stop to fill up – this will be the last fuel before we reach Pofadder – only 160 km as the crow flies but our route will be almost double that – through rocks and thick soft sand. I expect the bikes to be thirsty. I was here last year with Kamanya and his bike gobbled up 50l and was empty by the time we hit Pella. I am also on a KTM 950 and only have half the fuel to do the same distance … gulp!
My SE holds 14 litres and I am carrying 2 X 5l jerry cans – I hope this will be enough. I am highly allergic to pushing bikes. Kneelo and Travolta both have fancy fuel bladders with them. Kneelo fills his and the petrol pisses straight out – the canvas has come away from the filler neck – I smile and pretend all is OK but am silently cursing – I think about the 7 P’s – Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance – this bladder should have been checked in Cape Town – those lost 7 litres of fuel could make all the difference …
On the forecourt we spot the Easter bunny and his mates – the pompjoggie informs me these are not pets – they are for the pot. Africa is not for sissies.
All bikes filled and our bladders emptied – we roll out and continue north – I am very nervous – what ifs are flying through my head
After another 30 odd km (we are now only about 30 km from the RSA/NAM order) we turn right off the N7 and hit the dirt for the first time – it is 10h30 on Tues 22 March – the mercury is already sitting at 35 deg C.
Travolta takes this pic – note how clean the bike is and what a beautiful fancy screen it has – bought from Topbox only 3 days ago
Tyres are deflated to 1.5 bar front and back – we have been running them hard on the tar and it is time to let some sky out of our rounds – the sand literally starts straight away – I can see it not more than 50m away
This is my favourite riding area – I have ridden about 50 000 km on many different bikes in the last few years through Southern Africa – NAM, Lesotho, MOZ, Baviaans, E Tvl, N Tvl, Drakensberg, Southern Cape, Northern Cape, Karoo, Cederberg been there ridden that – for me nothing comes close to Namakwaland – I truly feel alive here – to me this is Africa at its best – cruel yet kind, ugly yet beautiful, harsh but fair.
A Kokerboom looks over my KTM
We have been riding on the dirt for an hour – the bikes are tired so the cowboys stop to let the horses rest
I have a very vague idea of where we’re going and all I know is that the closer we get to the mountains and the Orange River the rougher the riding gets – I am leading the ride and purposely choose every little goat track I can find – I want to see the Orange River – I want to show off its majesty to Travolta my Turkish friend. He is not looking so good – I know his Dakar is a pig in the sand – crap suspension and very top heavy not to mention the big DSLR camera, tripod and laptop he is carrying under his full fuel bladder – he is feeling every bump and probably wondering how the liquid crystals are running out of his flat screen. Kneelo is like the tortoise – sure and steady (but not as slow) and always there on his orange X Challenge – he is very quiet – I think he is scared of me. I am loving my new SE – it really is the best dirt bike I have had out of the 23 bikes that I have owned in the last 4 years. I am so glad I got rid of that 990 S – my short legs would never be able to hold that beast up in this stuff.
Time flies when you’re having fun. We ride down a beautiful valley blindly following my GPS – thick riverbed sand sucks at our wheels and sharp rocks bite at our tyres and leave teeth marks in our bashplates. The bikes are lightly packed, except for Travolta’s, but still the luggage bounces up and down, especially my extra fuel on the back, and must be regularly checked and straps re-fastened.
We get to the end of the valley and stare upwards at a steep climb that looks like it goes over the mountain and heads towards the river – we must go there.
Travolta leads the way and very soon decides to lie down and rest.
Shortly followed by me
Kneelo makes it past both of us but then runs off line and gets stuck in a rut
I’m a bit concerned – I don’t think Travolta and Kneelo are digging this so much – I don’t think they like me – I feel like Captain William Bligh on the Bounty right before the shit hit the fan.
We gather ourselves and pick up the bikes. Travolta takes this shot as Kneelo points from whence we just came. The pics never show how steep it really is.
We manage to get going again and carefully cajole our bikes to the top of this pass.
We are greeted by this sight.
I nearly wet my pants I am so excited. The Road to Hell. We have literally stumbled upon the holy grail of extreme DS biking. I have heard about this road but always secretly doubted its existence. I feel like a spotty teenager who has got hold of his first porno mag.
We all pose next to “The Rock”
It is now 2 pm. its bliksem hot, the bikes are exhausted and we are feeling a little tired. I make a mental note to bring a fitter bike next time. We are running out of water fast. Kneelo is very quiet – I am getting very worried about him. He is a vris and fit oke. I imagine him moering me over the head with a rock ala Lord of the Flies. I persuade Travolta and Kneelo that we must go down this road because the river is “just around the corner” and I tell them that there is a famous pub down there that sells ice cold beers – they fall for it and off we ride – I am in front.
2 minutes later I put my hand up and we stop.
This road is bliksems steep. There are a moerse lot of rocks here. I am kakking myself.
I call an urgent board meeting and confess I lied about the pub and the ice-cold beers. I cannot guarantee that once we reach the river we can ride along it and fear that we may have to ride out this way again. It is late, the bikes are tired, our water is running out and Travolta has not been able to update his Facebook status since we left Springbok.
We help each other to turn the bikes around – this takes 30 min of sweating and groaning – these bikes are really moeg by now.
I remember to mark the waypoint in my GPS – I am definitely coming back here!
Part 2 and 4 more days to follow ...
