Rynet
Grey Hound
This was on the BMW forum in January ,but I have been meaning to put it up here to thank Andy XT660R for his Cederberg trip report in December for being such an inspiration for me to ride this route. So here is my little adventure , as I am now very excited about heading back to the Cederberg for the week-end's festival 
Date : 2 to 4 January 2009
Distance : 950 km
No of Bikes : 1
No of Pillions : 0
So there I was heading off into the Blue Yonder all by my lonesome self.
I decide on a whim to go after reading XT660R's post on the Wilddog site about their ride on the lovely Rooibos Heritage / Moedverloor route ( left off the R364 to Calvinia ) the week -end before. I must go and ride this road . No one else is available, so it ends up being a solo ride . Not that I think XT660R used the word " lovely " It was more like " WOW what an awesome ride " also " a jewel of a road not for Newbies " and " some of the most beautiful roads in the Cederberg" .I must do this ride, it's calling me, as is the "lovely " campsite at Mertenshof farm , Biedouw Valley .
Going solo changes the dynamics dramatically . Normally "someone else" or rather " anyone else but me " takes care of the practical " side " issues , you know : the little things like fixing punctures , medical aid, planning routes , reading maps, deflating tyres , erecting tents and braaing. I normally take care of the more important things like packing my bikini, sunblock and food .
So in a jiffy I visit Harley and leave with a tent, mattress , big bag , and ratshit straps. I visit Pete , and leave with some basic map reading techniques and a tyre repair kit. On the morning of my departure I visit Geoff and get a puncture repair lesson ( to follow on from Neil 's one - but this time I am listening as if my life depends on it- as it might!) and a lesson (at my request) on how to seal a leaky bike gut with pratley black. I leave with a route for some Piketberg Dirt and a Compressor. But most importantly Geoff changes my suspension, as my front end rattles like a rattlesnake every time I ride over corrugated stuff or sand . Geoff says it's no wonder as mine is set for road racing , which admittedly is 99% of what I do on my bike; I race it to work and back .
I buy some Rescue remedy , painkillers and Betadene and the most beautiful meter- high map of the Cederberg at Cape Union Mart, which even I am bound to be able to figure out . I'm all set to go .
DAY ONE
As I ride I reflect on my very short off -road riding career : 9 months , many little falls and two expensive ones , one costing me a new clutch kit, and 2 weeks later another one costing the Insurance company R43K, when my bike ran out of control down a gravelly hill near Elim. I also remember that I failed the Countrytrax intro course due to my inability to lock my back brake. I also have a tendency , when I see anything technical, to scream, panic and throw my bike down as Shaded can testify when I try and ride down at the Quarry, or Rony and Gwaai saw at Matroosberg .
More importantly I can't pick up my own bike. O yes ,did I mention there is no cell -reception in the Cederberg, so I am totally on my own.
But all of this fades away as I feel the joy of the road moving beneath me. Just before Piketberg at the 399 I gooi a left, expecting to hit pay dirt in a few minutes . I don't hit pay dirt, on the contrary I ride and ride and ride ,and only about 30 Km later do I hit pay dirt : Kapteinskloof . See I knew maps try and fool you.
I deflate my own tyres ( trumpets blowing here ) I think my massive tyre gauge is actually one used for trucks wheels , but hey deflating tyres is not so hard, and I finish it in 20 minutes flat .
The roads and the views are lovely and I'm having the time of my life . Some excitement when an undisciplined collie runs in front of my bike , forcing me to brake ( I AGAIN forget about the back brake)
I won't rattle on too much about this part of the trip, and the one past Hex River, except to say that I soon realise that reading a map is like doing a crossword puzzle. I don't get it right the first time round ,but have to guess my way around after a few wrong attempts .I do get to meet a lovely farmer out Het Kruis Way ,who assures me the route is not through his farm, and he points me in the right direction.
A few pictures of the tranquil Banghoek Mountains behind the Piketberg Mountains ( all my pictures are taken with my cell phone )
My little gravel detour ( wrong turn-offs included ) sets me back 2 hours , but I enjoyed it and that's all that counts . I'm back on the N7 and its tar all the way. I ride over the lovely curvaceous Piekeniers Pass and arrive at Clanwilliam at the ingloriously late hour of 18h45 .
I down some fish and chips, and tackle the Cederberg. I am slightly irritated at myself for all my faffing back in Cape Town , as now I'm about to enter a no cell- reception area just as the sun is setting. And I have to rely on my own yet very undeveloped map- reading skills .
But as soon as I hit the Cederberg dirt roads I relax immediately and totally. Yoo hoo, my holiday has begun . I love the air here, the beauty , the peace and tranquility , the smells of the place. The spectacular mountains and valleys , the rich earthy colours . The silence. Sunset is my favorite part of the day. I have nothing to rush me , its just the bike and me, and the awesome roads .
Over a hill and nearly into the only car I see the whole way to base camp. It is spread out across the entire road doing a u-turn!! This proves to be my nemesis the whole week-end : objects appearing suddenly in front of my tyres, testing my braking abilities to the max . Despite practicing like mad , I fail to use the back brake in each and every emergency stop ,but gratefully I do manage with the front one .
The Cederberg is snoep with signs in this vicinity leaving me just about ready to just pitch camp right there and then. Thankfully and miraculously I do eventually find Mertenshof in the Biedouw Valley. The farmer Barry is happy to see me, as they expected me any time from 6pm .But not as happy as I am to see them !
Barry inquires happily about XT660 and his friends, and brags to me about their riding abilities. I don't think he realises that I don't know XT660 or his friends except that I read their great trip report on the Wilddogs site , which is why I am here. Barry jumps onto a Quad bike and takes me down a tricky section to base camp.
Naturally I struggle to pitch my tent, but the nice (single) neighbour and his 2 kiddies help me. I sleep for 8 hours straight on the lush lawn ,and wake up to a glorious sight.
DAY 2
I briefly chat to my neighbour as he leaves for Kromboom camp-site , now its just me and the nice couple at the other end of the camp site. I am extremely excited to ride the Rooibos Heritage / Moedverloor Route ,and manage to leave at 9h30 which is early for me, despite having to pack all my tools ( such as they are ), puncture repair kit , compressor, my medical kit, food and warm clothes, as I am on my own and have to be Responsible.
30 / 45 minutes later I cross the Doring River at the safe cement bridge crossing on the R364, and minutes later I arrive at the turn -off left to the Rooibos Heritage/ Moedverloor Route. For the first time on this trip I Hesitate. I wonder about the wisdom of rushing blindly into the unknown all alone. But secretly I also enjoy the adventure of it all.
I have a moment of Indecisiveness. I wonder if I am still a Newbie and therefore should not be riding this route . I have been on the off-road at least 10 times ....I am sure .....? I wonder if there is Sand on this route. I have encountered Sand 3 times, and fallen 6 times , oops, I have a 200% fall rate in Sand. I decide to consult my big Fortune Cookie for answers and haul out THE MAP. Before I even figure out where I am , I see two bikes gliding down the R364 from direction Calvinia towards me, like a mirage they appear out of the dust. Considering that I have seen one other vehicle since leaving Base Camp, this is remarkable. Even more strangely, the one biker gives me a big wave and then does the most magnificent skid towards me , leaving me drooling with envy at his back -braking skills .
I see that it is darling Ruan from Atlantic , and his very nice Uncle . They appear totally nonchalant at finding this madcap chick on her own on a bike in the middle of nowhere, for which I am grateful. Ruan assures me that I will easily be able to handle the road , I must just paddle the 4 sandy bits . I suspect then already ( correctly as it turns out ) that I will not be paddling, but it is a nice security blanket anyway. He laughs and says all he could see coming down the hill was this great big map.
A little later Ruan's dad, Wayne , Jonny and 2 other guys arrive,. They stop for a nervous chat after finding me here all alone , Ruan's dad bravely attempts to persuade me to not ride alone , of course to no avail .
So my adventure starts ( drums rolling ) : Moedverloor Road , here I come !
I wonder what awaits me?
I am still reminiscing on the lovely men I just saw , but this road , like a jealous boyfriend, claims all my attention, and straight away too .
After a fairly rocky start , the road eases off just enough to let me breathe. It clearly does not want to scare me , but warns me that I've got to keep my wits about me , and concentrate till my eyes bleed.
One of the first of many, many gates . Stop, try and lift my right leg higher than it wants to go, yank it smartly (and smarting) between the high bag on the pillion seat and the tank , tumble off the bike , walk , open gate , contort leg up again , rest of me up , ride 5 meters , off bike again , close gate , on bike , and so on . After each gate my steel tips get heavier, the seat higher , and my space suit bulkier to walk with .....
But I don't mind too much , the gates add to my sense of adventure , and they are just a few of the many, many obstacles that this Road doles out to me in generous helpings.
One of the first tests the road sets for me : I see two hares , and seconds later , a duikertjie running across the road as I approach a u- turn. As I turn to watch the dainty bokkie , the road nearly shrugs me off it's back and into the bushes . I get the hint : this road is high -maintenance. Its not going to share me. Its the road on full blast, or it's belly up for me. It demands all of my attention, all of the time.
The road twists and turns constantly as it weaves through some of the strangest, most mysterious landscapes that I have ever come across. There are the strangest structures that these people live in . There are no sounds , no TV , no radios ( no electricity ) , no talking , no laughter , no movement at all , the air is heavy . The people are frozen in their postures like dummies in a macarbe museum. The silence is deafening.
I feel like a trespasser . I am enthralled , my jaw hangs at the bottom of my helmet. I cast furtive glances around me, fascinated . Like Alice in Wonderland I feel like I have fallen through a hole in the ground and landed smack bang in the middle of an earlier century , and in a different country.
It's beautiful and eerie and desolate and heavy. Admittingly , the weirdness of my own company probably enhances my sense of strangeness.
A young bull meters away starts to storm me , it bucks and snorts, but changes it's mind at the last minute and runs off ungracefully.
Ok, back to the road ; it is a shift shaper , giving me some easy peasy, then some sandy bits , then a couple of ruts, nothing too technical mind you, just enough to keep on my toes. But it doesn't stop winding , narrow and winding. And the colour of the road changes constantly, from brown to red to yellow to white to brown .....
I am very impressed with the suspension setting. Going over ruts , the whole bike sways a bit, which feels scary, but the front end is remarkably stable, and that is the much preferred option . How did I ever manage with the rock hard suspension! Thanks Geoff.
I am having the time of my life. I am one with the bike and the road , and up to dealing with anything that comes my way .
I pass Jaagvlak , Lelikkloof and Vlooikraal.
On one of the narrow uphills I am in the wrong track , as I am not anticipating any cars. But suddenly , unexpectedly, I see a local careening wildly towards me on a bicycle . I see him frantically pulling at his brakes, but he is going to fast . Now what . I am not planning to ride over the large mound of loose gravel and sand in the center island to go back to my side of the road . But it's his side of the road , and besides he can't go anywhere else, he is out of control . I debate and stall, and the poor man's eyes get bigger , and at the last minute I haul the bike across the mound of graveyard gravel . We narrowly miss each other, and I make it safely across . I do not look back, but I can practically feel the man's relief . It's probably bigger than mine.
Sandkraal. As I suspected in Base camp already, a place called Sandkraal is bound to have sand . It does . I am tired and light- headed from hunger. I want to eat my tin of sardines , but I feel invisible eyes bore into me. In fact, I fully expect a family of bushmen to be gorging on a buck behind the bushes.
And besides, there is no shade , the sun is relentless, so regretting that I didn't eat a bigger breakfast, I make do with 2 Brazil nuts and water , hope for the best, and push on.
I get to a fork in the road and the Rooibos Tea farm is on my left. I continue rightwards . This looks like a proper road now . I think the worst is over, and I reflect , not too humbly , that the road wasn't so bad after all . I must be styling on the bike today .
Just as I started to slack off, the Sand Monster rears it's ugly head from where it has lain in wait to devour the (iron) maiden.
The sand is upon me , there is no time to dither or debate , let alone stop. I must just roll with the punches .
Now for a quick interruption : a beloved friend of all at the BMW Club and Forum , phones me up recently and howls with laughter down the phone. He spotted me riding the entire length of Table View Sea front standing up . He asks me who I think I am, standing up and posing like that , a beauty queen? I say no, I am practicing for my debut on the Sand Runway . Every day I practice standing along the 4 km' s beachfront on my way to work and back . Some days I pretend I am riding on sand. I take the weight off my hands and into my feet and lean back. So even though I have done very little real life sand riding , in my imagination I have done plenty .....
So back to the Moedverloor Road . I just fall into action , the dress rehearsal is over, this is real life fright . I lean back , weight off the handlebars and into my feet, and I accelerate surely but steadily . O yes, did I mention that I also cannot look at sand whilst I am riding it, as it will absolutely freak me out . I choose a line and the Sand laughs at me , so instead I have to trust the bike totally like I am a blind beggar. Despite the severity of the situation for me , my luck holds and all goes swimmingly . The bike behaves beautifully , it does not even do a hint of a snake, just perfection in a dead straight line .
But then to my utmost horror I see at the bottom of the downhill a corner coming wildly at me. Not just a turn, mind you, but a corner. Cornering in sand is not part of my repertoire. My world and time stands still . I rack my brain , I fish frantically for advice on how to corner sand. I run though all the posts I ever read on the Forum and come up empty handed. I am in trouble , very big trouble. I am stuck . Suddenly I remember Lourens telling me at the Wilddogs Intro training day at Nelsons Creek that to do a U -turn one can push down on the inside peg to turn the bike and then immediately jump on the outside peg to keep the weight on the outside . I will try this . Like a magic potion, this piece of advice will keep the bike from falling, because I can't pick up the bike. So under no circumstances can I let this bike drop.
By this time I am gunning it and am not intending to ease off the throttle at all . I enter the corner in the middle of the road , well actually the bike does. I am just standing there looking pretty . I give a jump to the left , then a jump to the right and go for it , o yes and I pray. As I move it through the corner the bike veers closer and closer to the edge of the road, but I ignore it and just keep the speed steady and fast .
At the end of the corner, I am one second away from crashing off the side of the road , but I start counter- steering again , and stay on the road.
I am wildly elated , and feel like I have conquered Mount Everest . In a sense I have.
But I am humbled at how difficult and tiring this sand riding business is, and how I would struggle to ride the Weskus with one of Geoff's Weskus rides . But one sandy step at a time! This , for me, was quite an achievement and I'm proud and happy .
And so I reflect on the glorious ups and downs of off -road riding
Date : 2 to 4 January 2009
Distance : 950 km
No of Bikes : 1
No of Pillions : 0
So there I was heading off into the Blue Yonder all by my lonesome self.
I decide on a whim to go after reading XT660R's post on the Wilddog site about their ride on the lovely Rooibos Heritage / Moedverloor route ( left off the R364 to Calvinia ) the week -end before. I must go and ride this road . No one else is available, so it ends up being a solo ride . Not that I think XT660R used the word " lovely " It was more like " WOW what an awesome ride " also " a jewel of a road not for Newbies " and " some of the most beautiful roads in the Cederberg" .I must do this ride, it's calling me, as is the "lovely " campsite at Mertenshof farm , Biedouw Valley .
Going solo changes the dynamics dramatically . Normally "someone else" or rather " anyone else but me " takes care of the practical " side " issues , you know : the little things like fixing punctures , medical aid, planning routes , reading maps, deflating tyres , erecting tents and braaing. I normally take care of the more important things like packing my bikini, sunblock and food .
So in a jiffy I visit Harley and leave with a tent, mattress , big bag , and ratshit straps. I visit Pete , and leave with some basic map reading techniques and a tyre repair kit. On the morning of my departure I visit Geoff and get a puncture repair lesson ( to follow on from Neil 's one - but this time I am listening as if my life depends on it- as it might!) and a lesson (at my request) on how to seal a leaky bike gut with pratley black. I leave with a route for some Piketberg Dirt and a Compressor. But most importantly Geoff changes my suspension, as my front end rattles like a rattlesnake every time I ride over corrugated stuff or sand . Geoff says it's no wonder as mine is set for road racing , which admittedly is 99% of what I do on my bike; I race it to work and back .
I buy some Rescue remedy , painkillers and Betadene and the most beautiful meter- high map of the Cederberg at Cape Union Mart, which even I am bound to be able to figure out . I'm all set to go .
DAY ONE
As I ride I reflect on my very short off -road riding career : 9 months , many little falls and two expensive ones , one costing me a new clutch kit, and 2 weeks later another one costing the Insurance company R43K, when my bike ran out of control down a gravelly hill near Elim. I also remember that I failed the Countrytrax intro course due to my inability to lock my back brake. I also have a tendency , when I see anything technical, to scream, panic and throw my bike down as Shaded can testify when I try and ride down at the Quarry, or Rony and Gwaai saw at Matroosberg .
More importantly I can't pick up my own bike. O yes ,did I mention there is no cell -reception in the Cederberg, so I am totally on my own.
But all of this fades away as I feel the joy of the road moving beneath me. Just before Piketberg at the 399 I gooi a left, expecting to hit pay dirt in a few minutes . I don't hit pay dirt, on the contrary I ride and ride and ride ,and only about 30 Km later do I hit pay dirt : Kapteinskloof . See I knew maps try and fool you.
I deflate my own tyres ( trumpets blowing here ) I think my massive tyre gauge is actually one used for trucks wheels , but hey deflating tyres is not so hard, and I finish it in 20 minutes flat .
The roads and the views are lovely and I'm having the time of my life . Some excitement when an undisciplined collie runs in front of my bike , forcing me to brake ( I AGAIN forget about the back brake)
I won't rattle on too much about this part of the trip, and the one past Hex River, except to say that I soon realise that reading a map is like doing a crossword puzzle. I don't get it right the first time round ,but have to guess my way around after a few wrong attempts .I do get to meet a lovely farmer out Het Kruis Way ,who assures me the route is not through his farm, and he points me in the right direction.
A few pictures of the tranquil Banghoek Mountains behind the Piketberg Mountains ( all my pictures are taken with my cell phone )
My little gravel detour ( wrong turn-offs included ) sets me back 2 hours , but I enjoyed it and that's all that counts . I'm back on the N7 and its tar all the way. I ride over the lovely curvaceous Piekeniers Pass and arrive at Clanwilliam at the ingloriously late hour of 18h45 .
I down some fish and chips, and tackle the Cederberg. I am slightly irritated at myself for all my faffing back in Cape Town , as now I'm about to enter a no cell- reception area just as the sun is setting. And I have to rely on my own yet very undeveloped map- reading skills .
But as soon as I hit the Cederberg dirt roads I relax immediately and totally. Yoo hoo, my holiday has begun . I love the air here, the beauty , the peace and tranquility , the smells of the place. The spectacular mountains and valleys , the rich earthy colours . The silence. Sunset is my favorite part of the day. I have nothing to rush me , its just the bike and me, and the awesome roads .
Over a hill and nearly into the only car I see the whole way to base camp. It is spread out across the entire road doing a u-turn!! This proves to be my nemesis the whole week-end : objects appearing suddenly in front of my tyres, testing my braking abilities to the max . Despite practicing like mad , I fail to use the back brake in each and every emergency stop ,but gratefully I do manage with the front one .
The Cederberg is snoep with signs in this vicinity leaving me just about ready to just pitch camp right there and then. Thankfully and miraculously I do eventually find Mertenshof in the Biedouw Valley. The farmer Barry is happy to see me, as they expected me any time from 6pm .But not as happy as I am to see them !
Barry inquires happily about XT660 and his friends, and brags to me about their riding abilities. I don't think he realises that I don't know XT660 or his friends except that I read their great trip report on the Wilddogs site , which is why I am here. Barry jumps onto a Quad bike and takes me down a tricky section to base camp.
Naturally I struggle to pitch my tent, but the nice (single) neighbour and his 2 kiddies help me. I sleep for 8 hours straight on the lush lawn ,and wake up to a glorious sight.
DAY 2
I briefly chat to my neighbour as he leaves for Kromboom camp-site , now its just me and the nice couple at the other end of the camp site. I am extremely excited to ride the Rooibos Heritage / Moedverloor Route ,and manage to leave at 9h30 which is early for me, despite having to pack all my tools ( such as they are ), puncture repair kit , compressor, my medical kit, food and warm clothes, as I am on my own and have to be Responsible.
30 / 45 minutes later I cross the Doring River at the safe cement bridge crossing on the R364, and minutes later I arrive at the turn -off left to the Rooibos Heritage/ Moedverloor Route. For the first time on this trip I Hesitate. I wonder about the wisdom of rushing blindly into the unknown all alone. But secretly I also enjoy the adventure of it all.
I have a moment of Indecisiveness. I wonder if I am still a Newbie and therefore should not be riding this route . I have been on the off-road at least 10 times ....I am sure .....? I wonder if there is Sand on this route. I have encountered Sand 3 times, and fallen 6 times , oops, I have a 200% fall rate in Sand. I decide to consult my big Fortune Cookie for answers and haul out THE MAP. Before I even figure out where I am , I see two bikes gliding down the R364 from direction Calvinia towards me, like a mirage they appear out of the dust. Considering that I have seen one other vehicle since leaving Base Camp, this is remarkable. Even more strangely, the one biker gives me a big wave and then does the most magnificent skid towards me , leaving me drooling with envy at his back -braking skills .
I see that it is darling Ruan from Atlantic , and his very nice Uncle . They appear totally nonchalant at finding this madcap chick on her own on a bike in the middle of nowhere, for which I am grateful. Ruan assures me that I will easily be able to handle the road , I must just paddle the 4 sandy bits . I suspect then already ( correctly as it turns out ) that I will not be paddling, but it is a nice security blanket anyway. He laughs and says all he could see coming down the hill was this great big map.
A little later Ruan's dad, Wayne , Jonny and 2 other guys arrive,. They stop for a nervous chat after finding me here all alone , Ruan's dad bravely attempts to persuade me to not ride alone , of course to no avail .
So my adventure starts ( drums rolling ) : Moedverloor Road , here I come !
I wonder what awaits me?
I am still reminiscing on the lovely men I just saw , but this road , like a jealous boyfriend, claims all my attention, and straight away too .
After a fairly rocky start , the road eases off just enough to let me breathe. It clearly does not want to scare me , but warns me that I've got to keep my wits about me , and concentrate till my eyes bleed.
One of the first of many, many gates . Stop, try and lift my right leg higher than it wants to go, yank it smartly (and smarting) between the high bag on the pillion seat and the tank , tumble off the bike , walk , open gate , contort leg up again , rest of me up , ride 5 meters , off bike again , close gate , on bike , and so on . After each gate my steel tips get heavier, the seat higher , and my space suit bulkier to walk with .....
But I don't mind too much , the gates add to my sense of adventure , and they are just a few of the many, many obstacles that this Road doles out to me in generous helpings.
One of the first tests the road sets for me : I see two hares , and seconds later , a duikertjie running across the road as I approach a u- turn. As I turn to watch the dainty bokkie , the road nearly shrugs me off it's back and into the bushes . I get the hint : this road is high -maintenance. Its not going to share me. Its the road on full blast, or it's belly up for me. It demands all of my attention, all of the time.
The road twists and turns constantly as it weaves through some of the strangest, most mysterious landscapes that I have ever come across. There are the strangest structures that these people live in . There are no sounds , no TV , no radios ( no electricity ) , no talking , no laughter , no movement at all , the air is heavy . The people are frozen in their postures like dummies in a macarbe museum. The silence is deafening.
I feel like a trespasser . I am enthralled , my jaw hangs at the bottom of my helmet. I cast furtive glances around me, fascinated . Like Alice in Wonderland I feel like I have fallen through a hole in the ground and landed smack bang in the middle of an earlier century , and in a different country.
It's beautiful and eerie and desolate and heavy. Admittingly , the weirdness of my own company probably enhances my sense of strangeness.
A young bull meters away starts to storm me , it bucks and snorts, but changes it's mind at the last minute and runs off ungracefully.
Ok, back to the road ; it is a shift shaper , giving me some easy peasy, then some sandy bits , then a couple of ruts, nothing too technical mind you, just enough to keep on my toes. But it doesn't stop winding , narrow and winding. And the colour of the road changes constantly, from brown to red to yellow to white to brown .....
I am very impressed with the suspension setting. Going over ruts , the whole bike sways a bit, which feels scary, but the front end is remarkably stable, and that is the much preferred option . How did I ever manage with the rock hard suspension! Thanks Geoff.
I am having the time of my life. I am one with the bike and the road , and up to dealing with anything that comes my way .
I pass Jaagvlak , Lelikkloof and Vlooikraal.
On one of the narrow uphills I am in the wrong track , as I am not anticipating any cars. But suddenly , unexpectedly, I see a local careening wildly towards me on a bicycle . I see him frantically pulling at his brakes, but he is going to fast . Now what . I am not planning to ride over the large mound of loose gravel and sand in the center island to go back to my side of the road . But it's his side of the road , and besides he can't go anywhere else, he is out of control . I debate and stall, and the poor man's eyes get bigger , and at the last minute I haul the bike across the mound of graveyard gravel . We narrowly miss each other, and I make it safely across . I do not look back, but I can practically feel the man's relief . It's probably bigger than mine.
Sandkraal. As I suspected in Base camp already, a place called Sandkraal is bound to have sand . It does . I am tired and light- headed from hunger. I want to eat my tin of sardines , but I feel invisible eyes bore into me. In fact, I fully expect a family of bushmen to be gorging on a buck behind the bushes.
And besides, there is no shade , the sun is relentless, so regretting that I didn't eat a bigger breakfast, I make do with 2 Brazil nuts and water , hope for the best, and push on.
I get to a fork in the road and the Rooibos Tea farm is on my left. I continue rightwards . This looks like a proper road now . I think the worst is over, and I reflect , not too humbly , that the road wasn't so bad after all . I must be styling on the bike today .
Just as I started to slack off, the Sand Monster rears it's ugly head from where it has lain in wait to devour the (iron) maiden.
The sand is upon me , there is no time to dither or debate , let alone stop. I must just roll with the punches .
Now for a quick interruption : a beloved friend of all at the BMW Club and Forum , phones me up recently and howls with laughter down the phone. He spotted me riding the entire length of Table View Sea front standing up . He asks me who I think I am, standing up and posing like that , a beauty queen? I say no, I am practicing for my debut on the Sand Runway . Every day I practice standing along the 4 km' s beachfront on my way to work and back . Some days I pretend I am riding on sand. I take the weight off my hands and into my feet and lean back. So even though I have done very little real life sand riding , in my imagination I have done plenty .....
So back to the Moedverloor Road . I just fall into action , the dress rehearsal is over, this is real life fright . I lean back , weight off the handlebars and into my feet, and I accelerate surely but steadily . O yes, did I mention that I also cannot look at sand whilst I am riding it, as it will absolutely freak me out . I choose a line and the Sand laughs at me , so instead I have to trust the bike totally like I am a blind beggar. Despite the severity of the situation for me , my luck holds and all goes swimmingly . The bike behaves beautifully , it does not even do a hint of a snake, just perfection in a dead straight line .
But then to my utmost horror I see at the bottom of the downhill a corner coming wildly at me. Not just a turn, mind you, but a corner. Cornering in sand is not part of my repertoire. My world and time stands still . I rack my brain , I fish frantically for advice on how to corner sand. I run though all the posts I ever read on the Forum and come up empty handed. I am in trouble , very big trouble. I am stuck . Suddenly I remember Lourens telling me at the Wilddogs Intro training day at Nelsons Creek that to do a U -turn one can push down on the inside peg to turn the bike and then immediately jump on the outside peg to keep the weight on the outside . I will try this . Like a magic potion, this piece of advice will keep the bike from falling, because I can't pick up the bike. So under no circumstances can I let this bike drop.
By this time I am gunning it and am not intending to ease off the throttle at all . I enter the corner in the middle of the road , well actually the bike does. I am just standing there looking pretty . I give a jump to the left , then a jump to the right and go for it , o yes and I pray. As I move it through the corner the bike veers closer and closer to the edge of the road, but I ignore it and just keep the speed steady and fast .
At the end of the corner, I am one second away from crashing off the side of the road , but I start counter- steering again , and stay on the road.
I am wildly elated , and feel like I have conquered Mount Everest . In a sense I have.
But I am humbled at how difficult and tiring this sand riding business is, and how I would struggle to ride the Weskus with one of Geoff's Weskus rides . But one sandy step at a time! This , for me, was quite an achievement and I'm proud and happy .
And so I reflect on the glorious ups and downs of off -road riding
