I’m sitting at the office with not much to do other than day dream about riding and thus this story have finally been put down on e-paper. I’m still working on the last bit but should have the goods delivered during the day for your own day dreaming pleasure.
It’s been almost a year now since I rode my trusty KLR to Namibia from Cape Town, and not much has changed and a hell of a lot has changed at the same time. Africa is and always will be timeless in a certain way and it has the potential to slow one down and make you reflect, sometimes to the detriment of your own sanity. But life goes on and if we sit by the wayside the whole time we will be missing out on tons of riding time.
This story starts with finding a new job. Not me actually, but my fiancé at the time, now wife (one thing that changed…). She hails from the warm, sandy land of the brave. She struggled to land a job in SA, got one in Nam, I was gatvol of my boss and said, fuck it, let’s go! Thus we moved to Namibia (another change).
My bike was in the hospital at the time getting an exhaust valve pedicure, so we packed everything in her car (I didn’t own a cage then, change yet again) and off we went. A few weeks later I hopped on a bus for about 28 hours and was reunited with my refurbished and faithful travel companion. It was winter in Cape Town and pouring down, actually horizontally, so I visited a few mates, said some second good byes, packed my tools and waited for the weather to clear (climate change) while being hung over most the time.
Day 1: Long story short, the day finally came to take my bike to its new home. I was off. But just ahead of me were the menacing remnants of the cold front that had just passed, so it was bloody freezing when I left.
Good thing about winter time in the Western Cape is its flower season, and barely an hour out of town I was treated to a spectacular display of colour while cruising along. My aim was to stay off of the main roads and do as much dirt travel as much as possible. And I wanted to pass by my boet in Nieuwoudtville. So I took the west coast road: Velddrif – Elandsbaai – Strandfontein and headed inland to the Ville. Pulling into the driveway here is always a treat. The flowers were out in full show, the dogs are always too happy to see you, a warm shower, a good 12 year old whiskey, homemade burgers, a fire place in the kitchen and off course family. Although my boet was actually offshore grafting like a slave, his energetic and very short and at the time pregnant wife was home. All too quickly the next morning arose, as it does.
It’s been almost a year now since I rode my trusty KLR to Namibia from Cape Town, and not much has changed and a hell of a lot has changed at the same time. Africa is and always will be timeless in a certain way and it has the potential to slow one down and make you reflect, sometimes to the detriment of your own sanity. But life goes on and if we sit by the wayside the whole time we will be missing out on tons of riding time.
This story starts with finding a new job. Not me actually, but my fiancé at the time, now wife (one thing that changed…). She hails from the warm, sandy land of the brave. She struggled to land a job in SA, got one in Nam, I was gatvol of my boss and said, fuck it, let’s go! Thus we moved to Namibia (another change).
My bike was in the hospital at the time getting an exhaust valve pedicure, so we packed everything in her car (I didn’t own a cage then, change yet again) and off we went. A few weeks later I hopped on a bus for about 28 hours and was reunited with my refurbished and faithful travel companion. It was winter in Cape Town and pouring down, actually horizontally, so I visited a few mates, said some second good byes, packed my tools and waited for the weather to clear (climate change) while being hung over most the time.
Day 1: Long story short, the day finally came to take my bike to its new home. I was off. But just ahead of me were the menacing remnants of the cold front that had just passed, so it was bloody freezing when I left.
Good thing about winter time in the Western Cape is its flower season, and barely an hour out of town I was treated to a spectacular display of colour while cruising along. My aim was to stay off of the main roads and do as much dirt travel as much as possible. And I wanted to pass by my boet in Nieuwoudtville. So I took the west coast road: Velddrif – Elandsbaai – Strandfontein and headed inland to the Ville. Pulling into the driveway here is always a treat. The flowers were out in full show, the dogs are always too happy to see you, a warm shower, a good 12 year old whiskey, homemade burgers, a fire place in the kitchen and off course family. Although my boet was actually offshore grafting like a slave, his energetic and very short and at the time pregnant wife was home. All too quickly the next morning arose, as it does.
