Carnivore
Race Dog
Well, I am about due for another ride report… have been keeping a low profile for a while. So, here is a short contribution to keep my stakes up. (That’s stakes, not steaks… the latter do feature however..!)
So, upon the occasion of my 55th birthday, I elected to take my wife on Redd (a 2006 F650GS) to a log cabin in the forest, near Patensie, in the Eastern Cape. This is a farming town and the cabin is on a citrus farm up in the hills.
I commute to and from work every day on my bike, 50km each way, and to relive the tedium, often take the 20 odd km on gravel alternatives. However, no such indulgence today (Friday 23rd) as we still have to load the bike and the weather looked ominous. I might mention that my wife is not a hardened biker-chick… so her presence on the bike rather than us going in the Kombi is appreciated very much by yours truly.
So, with a fully loaded tog bag on the back (we have done this before – my 9mm 5ply wooden deck and tie-down method works well) and with my usual inventory of electronic stuff bulging in various pockets, we departed from home, leaving daughter to look after the fort. The weather was instantly foul, my visor was fogged up on the inside and I even offered to change our modus operandi to 4 wheels instead of 2. But knowing her man’s desire, my wife resisted the strong inclination to accept my offer, and we carried on. Within 20km, we were breaking into sunshine and by the time the Hankey turnoff came up, it was clear and bright. See now… if we had… then we wouldn’t have…
Still no pictures to share.... This is dull tar, the N2 and secondary roads. Been there done that… but upon arriving at the farm house, the Lady of the Manor (tongue firmly in cheek, here… !) gives us directions in Afrikaans (with which I do not have a problem, mind you..) and some of the more important facts are not correctly explained… so with talk of gates and dams and fences building a mental map in my mind, we set off to find the Cabin… and after some rather hectic drift-crossings and rocky upsandownes, we come upon a log cabin… dark, foreboding, and resplendent with disheveled bedding in the dingy interior. A discarded and forgotten bottle of brandy and an unwashed mug was on guard upon the table on the porch… was this where we were expected to stay?
No way, José..!
We tracked back, and by now it was pretty dark… and another camping type met us in the road and informed us that the cottage we were seeking was surely the one through that gate, and along the fence and through the other gate and down a steep slope and there we will find it… and we did.
Huge relief from Swambo… who had been wondering what the heck we were going to do if this cabin story didn’t pan out. I can cope with alternative plans in the mountains, and can sleep on a windswept cliff on the south coast in winter, or in a barn, or under a wagon. But I need to protect my woman, and so alternative plans were forming in my mind too, until we found The Place.
Settled in, made coffee, had some cheddar biscuits and chocolate and other snacks and watched the forest go dark, and the fireflies start their dance. All the while, the sound of the river over the rocks is starting to work its magic in my soul.
We decided to keep our packed braai for the Saturday… Carnivore must wait for his dietary needs to be satisfied.
And that was the evening and morning of the First Day
Saturday dawned bright and clear, and the Private Eden that lay before us … beautiful, people, just beautiful. Tall trees, twisted creepers and gurgling stream and a few bird calls – what else does one need? No cell-phone reception here…
So we set out to visit the Tolbos Country Shop and Restaurant for breakfast… self-portrait, us two..
The Patensie Valley is a beautiful place…
Consider the fast well and truly broken..! We sat in the sun as it streamed through the trees and enjoyed our eggs and sausage and bacon and toast and marmalade and orange juice and coffee… This is a very popular breakfast spot for motorcyclists of both dirt and tar genres… and true enough, a GS1150 duly arrived and the couple set about their own personal culinary agenda.
In 1983, a friend and I were solely responsible for setting the course of the Winterberg Enduro. In the early part of the year, we rebuilt his old 76 KTM 250 with crappy dual shocks and spindly forks, into a rather seriously capable bike. For 7 months, he on his KTM and me on my Maico 490, scoured the Eastern Cape for 365 km of unduplicated trails, from the old Pick ‘n Pay Hypermarket through to the Cockscomb Mountain and the Steytlerville road. It was a huge task for two people.
One of our first explorations was a mountain loop from the then Paul Sauer Dam (now known as the Kouga Dam) to the now-popular but then-unknown Baviaans campsite of Rooihoek. I have not been back to that dam since then, and seeing as it had been overflowing after the severe drought was broken some months back, I was keen to view it once more. So we set off from Tolbos along the Road to Baviaans, past the pack-sheds and orchard trailers along the road, past Padlangs Restaurant (another hugely popular breakfast destination) until the turnoff to the dam. Most EC Wilddogs know this route. 7km of decent gravel and a blast through the tunnel to the view point, where we parked Redd.
I love dams. The sheer power that lurks behind that curved wall, fills me with an ominous awe. The dark water that lies still and deep… as though waiting for a chance to devastate all human endeavour in the lands and villages below… it is a monster that hide way up there in the deep kloofs, unthought-of by most men, until … aahhh… the mental image is spawned by stories like the Dam Busters… and films like Earthquake…
Margie does not like heights, and says she feels uncomfortably drawn to the edge of viewpoints such as this, so the fence is as far as she will venture. On the structure, I notice some stainless steel bars embedded into the concrete at various joints and surmise that these are loadcells designed to report any geological displacement. Satisfying to know that technology keeps a watchful eye.
I clambered up onto this ledge to take her picture, and she figured it was a cool place to get my picture… there were also some impressive geckos on the rock-face, playing sillybuggas in the sun.
This dam won an Outstanding Construction Award from the Institute of Civil Engineers in 1970. It certainly is an impressive piece of work.
The debris from the recent rains just cannot quite make it over the edge…
The hydro-electric power equipment at this dam has been flooded twice and the last time was the time they were not repaired. That whole system is defunct.
The canal feeds the Gamtoos Valley’s irrigation needs, wending its way for many kilometers in a pretty impressive distribution network.
And so back to our Forest… at our age (!) you need to walk to keep the limbs limbered up and all that… so a bit of a gentle trundle along the road…
And back to the Cabin.
Did I mention that it’s a really pretty setting?
Resting up… those are no mean feet.. (sic) … sorry… couldn’t resist… yes, silly, I know…. Humour me. It’s my birthday.
Redd goes to sleep in the pathway, waiting to be called upon in the morning…
… and the forest slowly darkens…
And so the preparations for the Feast, with the Consumables laid out in anticipation. (Please note, that in deference to those who are concerned about my protein penchant, there were two salads in the offing..) Not a bad repast for a bike trip with minimal packing space…
Two things I love… the murmur of a stream as it tumbles over rocks, and the mesmerizing dance of a fire. I had both.
And I also had my wife with me, who is the Queen of Crochet… she has made us some significant extra pecuniaré through this hobby, assisting with her and our daughter’s fundamental birthday events and other fiscal needs that my humble salary cannot cope with. So, what more can one ask for?
Tucking in…
And that was the evening and morning of the Second Day.
The road out – steep, but look up and gas up… the middlemannetjie is narrow but no problem. This is the sort of situation where fixating on the front wheel will surely lead you into one or the other rocky trail.
That’s it! That’s how I spent my birthday. And tonight, I am relaxed, happy, and the thought of the morrow, unusually, does not have me stressing about achieving and meeting deadlines.
So, upon the occasion of my 55th birthday, I elected to take my wife on Redd (a 2006 F650GS) to a log cabin in the forest, near Patensie, in the Eastern Cape. This is a farming town and the cabin is on a citrus farm up in the hills.
I commute to and from work every day on my bike, 50km each way, and to relive the tedium, often take the 20 odd km on gravel alternatives. However, no such indulgence today (Friday 23rd) as we still have to load the bike and the weather looked ominous. I might mention that my wife is not a hardened biker-chick… so her presence on the bike rather than us going in the Kombi is appreciated very much by yours truly.
So, with a fully loaded tog bag on the back (we have done this before – my 9mm 5ply wooden deck and tie-down method works well) and with my usual inventory of electronic stuff bulging in various pockets, we departed from home, leaving daughter to look after the fort. The weather was instantly foul, my visor was fogged up on the inside and I even offered to change our modus operandi to 4 wheels instead of 2. But knowing her man’s desire, my wife resisted the strong inclination to accept my offer, and we carried on. Within 20km, we were breaking into sunshine and by the time the Hankey turnoff came up, it was clear and bright. See now… if we had… then we wouldn’t have…
Still no pictures to share.... This is dull tar, the N2 and secondary roads. Been there done that… but upon arriving at the farm house, the Lady of the Manor (tongue firmly in cheek, here… !) gives us directions in Afrikaans (with which I do not have a problem, mind you..) and some of the more important facts are not correctly explained… so with talk of gates and dams and fences building a mental map in my mind, we set off to find the Cabin… and after some rather hectic drift-crossings and rocky upsandownes, we come upon a log cabin… dark, foreboding, and resplendent with disheveled bedding in the dingy interior. A discarded and forgotten bottle of brandy and an unwashed mug was on guard upon the table on the porch… was this where we were expected to stay?
No way, José..!
We tracked back, and by now it was pretty dark… and another camping type met us in the road and informed us that the cottage we were seeking was surely the one through that gate, and along the fence and through the other gate and down a steep slope and there we will find it… and we did.
Huge relief from Swambo… who had been wondering what the heck we were going to do if this cabin story didn’t pan out. I can cope with alternative plans in the mountains, and can sleep on a windswept cliff on the south coast in winter, or in a barn, or under a wagon. But I need to protect my woman, and so alternative plans were forming in my mind too, until we found The Place.
Settled in, made coffee, had some cheddar biscuits and chocolate and other snacks and watched the forest go dark, and the fireflies start their dance. All the while, the sound of the river over the rocks is starting to work its magic in my soul.
We decided to keep our packed braai for the Saturday… Carnivore must wait for his dietary needs to be satisfied.
And that was the evening and morning of the First Day
Saturday dawned bright and clear, and the Private Eden that lay before us … beautiful, people, just beautiful. Tall trees, twisted creepers and gurgling stream and a few bird calls – what else does one need? No cell-phone reception here…
So we set out to visit the Tolbos Country Shop and Restaurant for breakfast… self-portrait, us two..
The Patensie Valley is a beautiful place…
Consider the fast well and truly broken..! We sat in the sun as it streamed through the trees and enjoyed our eggs and sausage and bacon and toast and marmalade and orange juice and coffee… This is a very popular breakfast spot for motorcyclists of both dirt and tar genres… and true enough, a GS1150 duly arrived and the couple set about their own personal culinary agenda.
In 1983, a friend and I were solely responsible for setting the course of the Winterberg Enduro. In the early part of the year, we rebuilt his old 76 KTM 250 with crappy dual shocks and spindly forks, into a rather seriously capable bike. For 7 months, he on his KTM and me on my Maico 490, scoured the Eastern Cape for 365 km of unduplicated trails, from the old Pick ‘n Pay Hypermarket through to the Cockscomb Mountain and the Steytlerville road. It was a huge task for two people.
One of our first explorations was a mountain loop from the then Paul Sauer Dam (now known as the Kouga Dam) to the now-popular but then-unknown Baviaans campsite of Rooihoek. I have not been back to that dam since then, and seeing as it had been overflowing after the severe drought was broken some months back, I was keen to view it once more. So we set off from Tolbos along the Road to Baviaans, past the pack-sheds and orchard trailers along the road, past Padlangs Restaurant (another hugely popular breakfast destination) until the turnoff to the dam. Most EC Wilddogs know this route. 7km of decent gravel and a blast through the tunnel to the view point, where we parked Redd.
I love dams. The sheer power that lurks behind that curved wall, fills me with an ominous awe. The dark water that lies still and deep… as though waiting for a chance to devastate all human endeavour in the lands and villages below… it is a monster that hide way up there in the deep kloofs, unthought-of by most men, until … aahhh… the mental image is spawned by stories like the Dam Busters… and films like Earthquake…
Margie does not like heights, and says she feels uncomfortably drawn to the edge of viewpoints such as this, so the fence is as far as she will venture. On the structure, I notice some stainless steel bars embedded into the concrete at various joints and surmise that these are loadcells designed to report any geological displacement. Satisfying to know that technology keeps a watchful eye.
I clambered up onto this ledge to take her picture, and she figured it was a cool place to get my picture… there were also some impressive geckos on the rock-face, playing sillybuggas in the sun.
This dam won an Outstanding Construction Award from the Institute of Civil Engineers in 1970. It certainly is an impressive piece of work.
The debris from the recent rains just cannot quite make it over the edge…
The hydro-electric power equipment at this dam has been flooded twice and the last time was the time they were not repaired. That whole system is defunct.
The canal feeds the Gamtoos Valley’s irrigation needs, wending its way for many kilometers in a pretty impressive distribution network.
And so back to our Forest… at our age (!) you need to walk to keep the limbs limbered up and all that… so a bit of a gentle trundle along the road…
And back to the Cabin.
Did I mention that it’s a really pretty setting?
Resting up… those are no mean feet.. (sic) … sorry… couldn’t resist… yes, silly, I know…. Humour me. It’s my birthday.
Redd goes to sleep in the pathway, waiting to be called upon in the morning…
… and the forest slowly darkens…
And so the preparations for the Feast, with the Consumables laid out in anticipation. (Please note, that in deference to those who are concerned about my protein penchant, there were two salads in the offing..) Not a bad repast for a bike trip with minimal packing space…
Two things I love… the murmur of a stream as it tumbles over rocks, and the mesmerizing dance of a fire. I had both.
And I also had my wife with me, who is the Queen of Crochet… she has made us some significant extra pecuniaré through this hobby, assisting with her and our daughter’s fundamental birthday events and other fiscal needs that my humble salary cannot cope with. So, what more can one ask for?
Tucking in…
And that was the evening and morning of the Second Day.
The road out – steep, but look up and gas up… the middlemannetjie is narrow but no problem. This is the sort of situation where fixating on the front wheel will surely lead you into one or the other rocky trail.
That’s it! That’s how I spent my birthday. And tonight, I am relaxed, happy, and the thought of the morrow, unusually, does not have me stressing about achieving and meeting deadlines.
