First Day in the Office - Early March 2010
I have a meeting with Santa van Baard at the Groot Marico information centre … today, early rather than late …
After seeing Nick and Trix off to school, I hastily pack basic tools, find and able body to repair hole in exhaust … I ride towards a scrap dealer and see an ‘able body’ pushing oxy acetylene bottles on a trolley … a quick ‘how’s your mama’ and the hole is patched and sealed on the second attempt … I fill up and head towards Tarlton and the start of the sand roads I want to map for my first tour …
I notice my speedo is accurate with the 21 and 18 inch off road wheels on … exact or 1 km difference … at higher speeds it under-reads … with a gap in the traffic and a steep downhill I touch 167 km/h … fast enough … then slow down …
It’s a schlep getting out of JHB, but once I head North on Hendrik Potgieter, I have that addictive euphoria of escaping the city … call it freedom :ricky:
After the Magalies - Tarlton intersection … I stop on the dirt road … deflate tyre pressures . . . front 1.8 to 1.4 … rear 2.0 to 1.5 …
A woman asks for money … others walk by and greet ..,. it is cool and I consider putting my rain suit jacket on, but don’t … hope the sand roads will build a sweat ...
Pungent farm smells … chicken poop, pig poop, cattle poop :biggrin: fresh soil smells from ploughed fields … eucalyptus … and burning plastic …
The road is corrugated and potholed … well used by the nearest farms encroaching the metropolis …
Across tar roads … I try a left loop after crossing into North West Province … very happy to have done so! After taking wrong road … it narrows … winds through trees and fields … hollows filled with recent rain water … I try a few … always this question of eco-sensitivity hangs above me … in the purist sense of the word i would be living in a mountain cave, walking barefoot between green stinging nettles which I brew for tea … but no … I was born to ride :ricky: :biggrin:
A flock of birds circle above a harvested field … they look like small predators … 75 to 100 of them … past a picturesque farmstead … I slow and keeps my revs constant to reduce the noise from my exhaust … to the top of a rise and the view is breathtaking ;D … beautiful easy riding roads … if that’s what you like … pass South of Derby … and after an unplanned deviation, turn North to Koster to refuel … I see a sand road heading West and later find that it is a good road to pass South of Koster provided you are carrying enough fuel …
291 km’s - a packet of peanuts and a coffee later and I head towards the Rosmincol Road … open vistas and rolling hills … I stop briefly at a stone monument, set a waypoint, make a mental note to research this …. Across the bridge on the Marico River … the air is humid … the vegetation lush and recently watered … a group of about 20 vervet monkeys cautiously watch my approach … more than half are babies … they bombshell into the bushes to my left … I ride slowly by and call in my best vervet voice … one watches but says nothing in reply …
North up the Marico River road … bad for cars … good for bikes :biggrin:, exposed shales, winding over the perky hills … dropping into shady nooks … then rising to rollercoast over the crest of another open hill …
The approach to Groot Marico is being tarred … slowly and without much urgency … as this is the Marico.
Santa is busy in the Information Centre … it has matured since my last visit 5 or 6 years ago … two offices appear to hold forms and documents and information, dripping in the history and the culture that is Marico …
The usual welcome of a honey mampoer is avoided … Santa is joined by Jaco … explain what I want to do … bring groups … small 5 to 10 adventure bikers to the Marico … connect with existing tours, accommodation, activities … retrenched … opportunity to follow my heart … Egbert joins … his chair facing away from the table into the indigenous garden … a kaleidoscope of aromas wash through the stoep … bird calls twitter and tweet … their creators hidden in the rampant growth ...
Many things are spoken of … many pauses punctuated our conversation … and then it is only the Marico sunshine that fills the space … small things .. significant things for me … I say that I want to have a database of people, collect their preferences and tailor a tour around their data … after a long pause Egbert says quietly that when we work for a boss we inevitably compromise ourselves … it will be better to put a tour together based upon my interests, my passions … then market that … it is better that way … even if it is hard … I see how I have prostituted myself for money over the years trying to meet my responsibilities … trying to rekindle a dying interest in my work … now I have an opportunity … I do not know what lies ahead of me, but with commitment and passion and some unknown ingredients thrown into the brew I will create what must be created …
My second mug of coffee is finished, the biscuit bowl noticeably more vacant …
Egbert asks if I would like to visit the Bosman terrain …
We walk up an eroded sand road bordered by trees and gardens … vicious dogs torpedo themselves at a fence … Egbert opens the gate …there is a reverence in our step … natural stone paths flow and draw us into the space … a replica of Bosman’s school house stands on my left … built from plans constructed by the museum society … clay brick built on a foundation of slate slabs … a thatch roof resting on straight English poplar beams … we enter … I have goose flesh … there is an atmosphere in here … the smell of thatch permeates the interior … 80 people can be entertained here … the windows are the original school patent, swivelling in the centre, left or right in order to best redirect a breeze in the harsh climate … a small room off the main class room holds Bosman memorabilia used by Patrick Mynhaardt in his many appearances as Oom Schalk Lourens … pictures and photographs capture the story and history of the project … from 1993, the society used to meet and hold the Bosman festival at the original farm school … for several years this continued … logistically challenging … the land changed ownership and it was decided to find a home for the festival .. the farm school now represents and contains the spirit of this cultural wellspring … in its new location … on the Bosman terrain … on top of an inconspicuous hill in the middle of Groot Marico town …
A Haartbeeshuisie has been built with similar care and authenticity … a traditional “bak oond”, used for satisfying guests around a fireplace … a roofed dining area and bar … service other needs >
and a bathroom facility completes the assembly of buildings … two ox wagons and a mielie grinder stand under a corrugated roof …
The trees have filled and stand healthier than before … several ceremonial trees have been planted … and a traditional Tswana Kraal will balance the cultural development.
A mampoer tour is available … good food, good stories … a game farm …
A visit to the siege of Elands River can be conducted by Koos Olivier, who grew up on the farm in Swartruggens … he is a source of knowledge on local fauna and flora and the history of this area … a good cook and story teller … hey man! If you can’t cook and tell stories here, you don’t qualify to be a man :biggrin: ... he also has his own telescope … one that looks at the heavens ne :imaposer:
My head is swimming with ideas … questions .. and possibilities as I swing my leg over my beautiful bike and head South … it is late … I will have to explore the Marico Bushveld Dam another time …
This is a cool road to ride … South down the Marico River Valley … black clouds are building and the angled sunlight surreal … I force myself to stop and take some pics … I stop again to don my rain suit … I made a comment riding out here, that these roads should be fun to ride in the rain … I was right ! :mwink:
Nothing spectacular … some shallow washes over road … mostly good grip … occasionally the rear kicks sideways through a muddy puddle … I remove GPS, not being sure how much of a drenching it will take …
Heading South . . . the low sunlight and dark thunder clouds create spectacular light . . .
The Groot Marico River . . . almost as big as it gets i am afraid
Awesome riding roads . . .
The deluge approaches ;D
The Intrepid Rider is unfased
The Luggage falls off . . . almost
Insie Wiensie Spider . . .
A brief stop at one of the bridges across the Marico river . . . more water outside river though :biggrin:
Headlight looks more than adequate . . . must be my eyeses :biggrin:
The artistic . . . grovel in the mud shot
Koster … refuel … Hawaiian burger take-away … admire the mud on bike … reminder of roads travelled … an angry bashing on metal attracts my attention … a strong bull is being held captive on the back of a railed bakkie … it’s head butting causes the vehicle to roll forward … the driver runs and jumps in … it pulls off, the bull loses it’s footing and struggles to stand … my stomach turns … something ugly to watch .. perhaps I am over sensitive … I am probably digesting his brother in my stomach at this very moment . . .
Fuel and grub stop in Koster . . .
Re-tie backpack on rear rack … replace GPS and head back on route I used this morning … I am attracted to explore a new road South of Derby … farmhouses and caves advertised … sun is low in the sky … the colours beyond belief bright . . . deep and rich … I take some more pics .. thoughts of promotional leaflets play in my mind … “have you ever chased your shadow” … the sense of freedom my new “office” job is compelling and exciting.
Chasing my shadow . . . I never caught it :'(
I will make this work dammit! And I want to share this with all those stuck reluctantly in corporates and workshops and offices … the reluctant ones … not those who enjoy their jobs :laughing4:
Cross the Mooi River … bent reeds are evidence of earlier flows of deep water … more mud now … I have one or two moments … the front wheel skating, not responding to my input … perhaps Mike will give some tips on riding clay/mud next weekend on his off-road riding course …
Man! what a beautiful bike . . . pitty about the luggage
I only take these self portraits to practice smiling . . . honestly :biggrin:
Ahh . . . the light !
Yep . . . thats the sun ;D
Thats my foot . . . forgot to put my off-road boots on . . .
This is an atomic mushroom cloud in the direction of Ventersdorp . . . was that you Eugene :imaposer:
Bridge over the river Mooi . . . ja . . . it is mooi ;D
The sun is setting . . . i am about to face my nemesis :biggrin:
Maybe if i didnt take so many pics i could get home when the sun is still shining ;D
A board planted across the road reads “Road Closed” … stop … ask a guy standing nearby on the road signed Mathabestad … “Ja, die pad is baie sleg” … but do I ever turn down a challenge … seldom > … I mean … how bad can a road be ? … turns out very bad :ricky: … my initial assault gets a cold shoulder and I find the front sliding uncontrollably on clay … I recall a mud story in the ‘DRIVE OUT’ magazine … written by Jan Taljaard … and I quote (It was Chris who broke the silence. “The thing about mud,” he said pensively, “is that you have to ride it without it noticing you’re riding it, because then it get angry”)
I slow … at least if I fall I will be going slowly … I fall, but at least I am going slowly :biggrin: … now I am covered in mud … I see the imprint of my body where I wallowed to stand up :biggrin: … 2 quick pics .. up and onward … intersect with N4 and head East … my bike always feels perfect … especially when accelerating from a stop …
Once tall and proud . . .
Now reduced to a mud wallower :biggrin:
Luckily my tank didnt drain while trying to record the 'moment'
Arrive in Magaliesburg a little cold and stiff . . . I pump tyres to 2 bar … buy a Super Malt from garage shop … I ask lady at till if she can open it for me … I take a pic of my boots while waiting … a smile arrives with a woman’s body attached … she grabs the now nervous Super Malt bottle and twists with all her strength … I shout no .. no ! … but she has accepted this act of service as a personal challenge … she pops the bottle into her mouth and starts biting the cap with her teeth! … I think this goes beyond her call of duty and I wrestle the bottle away from her in disbelief. Having lost the quest she now offers to fetch a bottle opener .. but I am not sure what tricks she may have up her sleeve … and I remove the last remaining S uper Malt bottle from her possession and open it on the metal battery stand in the garage forecourt …
Caught after dark with my palsy headlight … I commit to upgrade my lumens as soon as I get back … at least I remembered to clean my muddy smeared visor at the garage .. my helmet was on and I wasn’t removing it for love or money, so I used the windscreen squeegee on the visor while on my head … I saw the attendants smile :biggrin:
Magaliesberg
Waiting for my Super Malt to be abused :biggrin:
Some pedestrians scare me when I catch their dark silhouettes walking over the road in my peripheral vision. A tiring last leg down Hendrik Potgieter and I mount the concrete highway in absolute darkness … feeling like a crusading knight riding for freedom in empathy of the thousands of white headlights standing stationary on the opposite side of the freeway … attempting to get home after a long day in the office …
I arrive home 20h20 … muddy, tired and jubilant … I feel great things lay ahead as I complete my first day in my new office.
PS. I now know that cell phone picture quality is enhanced if you remove the protective plastic film
By the house . . .
Thought i could smell burning :imaposer:
I have a meeting with Santa van Baard at the Groot Marico information centre … today, early rather than late …
After seeing Nick and Trix off to school, I hastily pack basic tools, find and able body to repair hole in exhaust … I ride towards a scrap dealer and see an ‘able body’ pushing oxy acetylene bottles on a trolley … a quick ‘how’s your mama’ and the hole is patched and sealed on the second attempt … I fill up and head towards Tarlton and the start of the sand roads I want to map for my first tour …
I notice my speedo is accurate with the 21 and 18 inch off road wheels on … exact or 1 km difference … at higher speeds it under-reads … with a gap in the traffic and a steep downhill I touch 167 km/h … fast enough … then slow down …
It’s a schlep getting out of JHB, but once I head North on Hendrik Potgieter, I have that addictive euphoria of escaping the city … call it freedom :ricky:
After the Magalies - Tarlton intersection … I stop on the dirt road … deflate tyre pressures . . . front 1.8 to 1.4 … rear 2.0 to 1.5 …
A woman asks for money … others walk by and greet ..,. it is cool and I consider putting my rain suit jacket on, but don’t … hope the sand roads will build a sweat ...
Pungent farm smells … chicken poop, pig poop, cattle poop :biggrin: fresh soil smells from ploughed fields … eucalyptus … and burning plastic …
The road is corrugated and potholed … well used by the nearest farms encroaching the metropolis …
Across tar roads … I try a left loop after crossing into North West Province … very happy to have done so! After taking wrong road … it narrows … winds through trees and fields … hollows filled with recent rain water … I try a few … always this question of eco-sensitivity hangs above me … in the purist sense of the word i would be living in a mountain cave, walking barefoot between green stinging nettles which I brew for tea … but no … I was born to ride :ricky: :biggrin:
A flock of birds circle above a harvested field … they look like small predators … 75 to 100 of them … past a picturesque farmstead … I slow and keeps my revs constant to reduce the noise from my exhaust … to the top of a rise and the view is breathtaking ;D … beautiful easy riding roads … if that’s what you like … pass South of Derby … and after an unplanned deviation, turn North to Koster to refuel … I see a sand road heading West and later find that it is a good road to pass South of Koster provided you are carrying enough fuel …
291 km’s - a packet of peanuts and a coffee later and I head towards the Rosmincol Road … open vistas and rolling hills … I stop briefly at a stone monument, set a waypoint, make a mental note to research this …. Across the bridge on the Marico River … the air is humid … the vegetation lush and recently watered … a group of about 20 vervet monkeys cautiously watch my approach … more than half are babies … they bombshell into the bushes to my left … I ride slowly by and call in my best vervet voice … one watches but says nothing in reply …
North up the Marico River road … bad for cars … good for bikes :biggrin:, exposed shales, winding over the perky hills … dropping into shady nooks … then rising to rollercoast over the crest of another open hill …
The approach to Groot Marico is being tarred … slowly and without much urgency … as this is the Marico.
Santa is busy in the Information Centre … it has matured since my last visit 5 or 6 years ago … two offices appear to hold forms and documents and information, dripping in the history and the culture that is Marico …
The usual welcome of a honey mampoer is avoided … Santa is joined by Jaco … explain what I want to do … bring groups … small 5 to 10 adventure bikers to the Marico … connect with existing tours, accommodation, activities … retrenched … opportunity to follow my heart … Egbert joins … his chair facing away from the table into the indigenous garden … a kaleidoscope of aromas wash through the stoep … bird calls twitter and tweet … their creators hidden in the rampant growth ...
Many things are spoken of … many pauses punctuated our conversation … and then it is only the Marico sunshine that fills the space … small things .. significant things for me … I say that I want to have a database of people, collect their preferences and tailor a tour around their data … after a long pause Egbert says quietly that when we work for a boss we inevitably compromise ourselves … it will be better to put a tour together based upon my interests, my passions … then market that … it is better that way … even if it is hard … I see how I have prostituted myself for money over the years trying to meet my responsibilities … trying to rekindle a dying interest in my work … now I have an opportunity … I do not know what lies ahead of me, but with commitment and passion and some unknown ingredients thrown into the brew I will create what must be created …
My second mug of coffee is finished, the biscuit bowl noticeably more vacant …
Egbert asks if I would like to visit the Bosman terrain …
We walk up an eroded sand road bordered by trees and gardens … vicious dogs torpedo themselves at a fence … Egbert opens the gate …there is a reverence in our step … natural stone paths flow and draw us into the space … a replica of Bosman’s school house stands on my left … built from plans constructed by the museum society … clay brick built on a foundation of slate slabs … a thatch roof resting on straight English poplar beams … we enter … I have goose flesh … there is an atmosphere in here … the smell of thatch permeates the interior … 80 people can be entertained here … the windows are the original school patent, swivelling in the centre, left or right in order to best redirect a breeze in the harsh climate … a small room off the main class room holds Bosman memorabilia used by Patrick Mynhaardt in his many appearances as Oom Schalk Lourens … pictures and photographs capture the story and history of the project … from 1993, the society used to meet and hold the Bosman festival at the original farm school … for several years this continued … logistically challenging … the land changed ownership and it was decided to find a home for the festival .. the farm school now represents and contains the spirit of this cultural wellspring … in its new location … on the Bosman terrain … on top of an inconspicuous hill in the middle of Groot Marico town …
A Haartbeeshuisie has been built with similar care and authenticity … a traditional “bak oond”, used for satisfying guests around a fireplace … a roofed dining area and bar … service other needs >
and a bathroom facility completes the assembly of buildings … two ox wagons and a mielie grinder stand under a corrugated roof …The trees have filled and stand healthier than before … several ceremonial trees have been planted … and a traditional Tswana Kraal will balance the cultural development.
A mampoer tour is available … good food, good stories … a game farm …
A visit to the siege of Elands River can be conducted by Koos Olivier, who grew up on the farm in Swartruggens … he is a source of knowledge on local fauna and flora and the history of this area … a good cook and story teller … hey man! If you can’t cook and tell stories here, you don’t qualify to be a man :biggrin: ... he also has his own telescope … one that looks at the heavens ne :imaposer:
My head is swimming with ideas … questions .. and possibilities as I swing my leg over my beautiful bike and head South … it is late … I will have to explore the Marico Bushveld Dam another time …
This is a cool road to ride … South down the Marico River Valley … black clouds are building and the angled sunlight surreal … I force myself to stop and take some pics … I stop again to don my rain suit … I made a comment riding out here, that these roads should be fun to ride in the rain … I was right ! :mwink:
Nothing spectacular … some shallow washes over road … mostly good grip … occasionally the rear kicks sideways through a muddy puddle … I remove GPS, not being sure how much of a drenching it will take …
Heading South . . . the low sunlight and dark thunder clouds create spectacular light . . .
The Groot Marico River . . . almost as big as it gets i am afraid
Awesome riding roads . . .
The deluge approaches ;D
The Intrepid Rider is unfased
The Luggage falls off . . . almost
Insie Wiensie Spider . . .
A brief stop at one of the bridges across the Marico river . . . more water outside river though :biggrin:
Headlight looks more than adequate . . . must be my eyeses :biggrin:
The artistic . . . grovel in the mud shot
Koster … refuel … Hawaiian burger take-away … admire the mud on bike … reminder of roads travelled … an angry bashing on metal attracts my attention … a strong bull is being held captive on the back of a railed bakkie … it’s head butting causes the vehicle to roll forward … the driver runs and jumps in … it pulls off, the bull loses it’s footing and struggles to stand … my stomach turns … something ugly to watch .. perhaps I am over sensitive … I am probably digesting his brother in my stomach at this very moment . . .
Fuel and grub stop in Koster . . .
Re-tie backpack on rear rack … replace GPS and head back on route I used this morning … I am attracted to explore a new road South of Derby … farmhouses and caves advertised … sun is low in the sky … the colours beyond belief bright . . . deep and rich … I take some more pics .. thoughts of promotional leaflets play in my mind … “have you ever chased your shadow” … the sense of freedom my new “office” job is compelling and exciting.
Chasing my shadow . . . I never caught it :'(
I will make this work dammit! And I want to share this with all those stuck reluctantly in corporates and workshops and offices … the reluctant ones … not those who enjoy their jobs :laughing4:
Cross the Mooi River … bent reeds are evidence of earlier flows of deep water … more mud now … I have one or two moments … the front wheel skating, not responding to my input … perhaps Mike will give some tips on riding clay/mud next weekend on his off-road riding course …
Man! what a beautiful bike . . . pitty about the luggage
I only take these self portraits to practice smiling . . . honestly :biggrin:
Ahh . . . the light !
Yep . . . thats the sun ;D
Thats my foot . . . forgot to put my off-road boots on . . .
This is an atomic mushroom cloud in the direction of Ventersdorp . . . was that you Eugene :imaposer:
Bridge over the river Mooi . . . ja . . . it is mooi ;D
The sun is setting . . . i am about to face my nemesis :biggrin:
Maybe if i didnt take so many pics i could get home when the sun is still shining ;D
A board planted across the road reads “Road Closed” … stop … ask a guy standing nearby on the road signed Mathabestad … “Ja, die pad is baie sleg” … but do I ever turn down a challenge … seldom >
… I mean … how bad can a road be ? … turns out very bad :ricky: … my initial assault gets a cold shoulder and I find the front sliding uncontrollably on clay … I recall a mud story in the ‘DRIVE OUT’ magazine … written by Jan Taljaard … and I quote (It was Chris who broke the silence. “The thing about mud,” he said pensively, “is that you have to ride it without it noticing you’re riding it, because then it get angry”)I slow … at least if I fall I will be going slowly … I fall, but at least I am going slowly :biggrin: … now I am covered in mud … I see the imprint of my body where I wallowed to stand up :biggrin: … 2 quick pics .. up and onward … intersect with N4 and head East … my bike always feels perfect … especially when accelerating from a stop …
Once tall and proud . . .
Now reduced to a mud wallower :biggrin:
Luckily my tank didnt drain while trying to record the 'moment'
Arrive in Magaliesburg a little cold and stiff . . . I pump tyres to 2 bar … buy a Super Malt from garage shop … I ask lady at till if she can open it for me … I take a pic of my boots while waiting … a smile arrives with a woman’s body attached … she grabs the now nervous Super Malt bottle and twists with all her strength … I shout no .. no ! … but she has accepted this act of service as a personal challenge … she pops the bottle into her mouth and starts biting the cap with her teeth! … I think this goes beyond her call of duty and I wrestle the bottle away from her in disbelief. Having lost the quest she now offers to fetch a bottle opener .. but I am not sure what tricks she may have up her sleeve … and I remove the last remaining S uper Malt bottle from her possession and open it on the metal battery stand in the garage forecourt …
Caught after dark with my palsy headlight … I commit to upgrade my lumens as soon as I get back … at least I remembered to clean my muddy smeared visor at the garage .. my helmet was on and I wasn’t removing it for love or money, so I used the windscreen squeegee on the visor while on my head … I saw the attendants smile :biggrin:
Magaliesberg
Waiting for my Super Malt to be abused :biggrin:
Some pedestrians scare me when I catch their dark silhouettes walking over the road in my peripheral vision. A tiring last leg down Hendrik Potgieter and I mount the concrete highway in absolute darkness … feeling like a crusading knight riding for freedom in empathy of the thousands of white headlights standing stationary on the opposite side of the freeway … attempting to get home after a long day in the office …
I arrive home 20h20 … muddy, tired and jubilant … I feel great things lay ahead as I complete my first day in my new office.
PS. I now know that cell phone picture quality is enhanced if you remove the protective plastic film
By the house . . .
Thought i could smell burning :imaposer:
