Strompie
Race Dog
People say that a bucket list is a list of things to do before you die. I would rather phrase it as a list of things to do while you are still alive. One item on my list was Katse dam. Not so much for the view of the dam, but rather the swooping roads leading to the dam. Apparently the road from Fouriesburg to Katse has 728 turns. Who counted them ? Some OCD road builder perhaps ? Well, I wanted in. I wanted to experience this road in all its swooping glory. On a breakfast run of our church motorcycle friends, I mentioned it. So a date was set, and Katse was a go. I am not a group-rider by any stretch of the imagination, but I was in. It was my idea afterall. The group would converge at Ficksburg on the Friday, ride to Katse and back on Saturday and head back on Sunday. We were 11 bikes, but with only my Strom and two GS’s in the group, it meant it would be a tar run. All the way. Friday morning a few of the riders left from Pretoria, another batch from Welkom and even a few from Bloem.
After Bethlehem we split up even more, and two of us headed to Clarens for some refreshments.
Nothing says Clarens like these trees.
Friday evening we had a braai and turned in early, as we were planning to be at the border post just after 6. The crossing was the usual confusion associated with African border posts. R30 road tax, and off we went. Into Lesotho.
The road heading to Katse takes you up to around 3000m from Ficksburg which lies at about 1600m . The road is as glorious as I hoped for, but you have to be very awake. There were several rockslides, and some serious twisties. If you make a mistake here, it will cost you dearly. We stopped at the highest point for a stretch, and then headed down again. You get glimpses of the dam from time to time, but your eyes had to be fixed on the road.
Strompie at the water.
Freezing at the top.
We had breakfast at the Katse lodge, and then went for a tour of the impressive dam wall.
And then the fun started. The wind picked up dramatically. Back over the highest point of the road the wind nearly took me off the mountain. It was a strain. We split up so each rider could ride at his own pace.
This gave me the opportunity to stop one of the locals for a chat.
His name is Tsepho. The first thing that came out of his mouth was “Give me money.” No please, no explanation. Just give. I asked if I could take his picture and his serious side came to light. After that, I took out my printer to print him a copy. When he saw the printer, again : “Give me that!” No concept of what it was that I had. I printed his photo and left. I did give him sweets though, but even that has to stop. They open the sweet, and just drop the paper where they stand. Well, the stop did give me a welcome breather from the relentless wind.
By the time we got back to Ficksburg, one of the most reserved persons in our group took off his helmet and said. “F**k that was irresponsible.” And that was about the sentiments of all the others. Dangerous winds, yet we had to keep moving, as we had to get back.
On Sunday, after the church service, I headed to Gumtree, an old abandoned sandstone mill. There I met Malomaleng.He only spoke Sotho, so with gestures he asked that I take his picture. This time is was out of pride, not personal gain. I printed him a photo too, and seeing his eyes light up was the best thing that happened that day.
Malomaleng : https://bcheyne.blogspot.co.za/2015/10/strangers-12.html
From there I tried to go to Clocolan, but the road was closed due to a fatal head-on collision. So I had to double back to Ficksburg and go via Senekal. Arriving at Brandfort at my guesthouse, my first impression was : “Damn they had a good product photographer!” The place looked nothing like the webpage pictured it. The town itself is also going downhill fast. It is always sad to see these rural towns go to pot. Monday I headed out as fast as I could, and got home just in time for my afternoon nap!
Glorious road, I did not follow because of time.
So another tick on my bucket list, and I am still alive to report on it.
After Bethlehem we split up even more, and two of us headed to Clarens for some refreshments.
Nothing says Clarens like these trees.
Friday evening we had a braai and turned in early, as we were planning to be at the border post just after 6. The crossing was the usual confusion associated with African border posts. R30 road tax, and off we went. Into Lesotho.
The road heading to Katse takes you up to around 3000m from Ficksburg which lies at about 1600m . The road is as glorious as I hoped for, but you have to be very awake. There were several rockslides, and some serious twisties. If you make a mistake here, it will cost you dearly. We stopped at the highest point for a stretch, and then headed down again. You get glimpses of the dam from time to time, but your eyes had to be fixed on the road.
Strompie at the water.
Freezing at the top.
We had breakfast at the Katse lodge, and then went for a tour of the impressive dam wall.
And then the fun started. The wind picked up dramatically. Back over the highest point of the road the wind nearly took me off the mountain. It was a strain. We split up so each rider could ride at his own pace.
This gave me the opportunity to stop one of the locals for a chat.
His name is Tsepho. The first thing that came out of his mouth was “Give me money.” No please, no explanation. Just give. I asked if I could take his picture and his serious side came to light. After that, I took out my printer to print him a copy. When he saw the printer, again : “Give me that!” No concept of what it was that I had. I printed his photo and left. I did give him sweets though, but even that has to stop. They open the sweet, and just drop the paper where they stand. Well, the stop did give me a welcome breather from the relentless wind.
By the time we got back to Ficksburg, one of the most reserved persons in our group took off his helmet and said. “F**k that was irresponsible.” And that was about the sentiments of all the others. Dangerous winds, yet we had to keep moving, as we had to get back.
On Sunday, after the church service, I headed to Gumtree, an old abandoned sandstone mill. There I met Malomaleng.He only spoke Sotho, so with gestures he asked that I take his picture. This time is was out of pride, not personal gain. I printed him a photo too, and seeing his eyes light up was the best thing that happened that day.
Malomaleng : https://bcheyne.blogspot.co.za/2015/10/strangers-12.html
From there I tried to go to Clocolan, but the road was closed due to a fatal head-on collision. So I had to double back to Ficksburg and go via Senekal. Arriving at Brandfort at my guesthouse, my first impression was : “Damn they had a good product photographer!” The place looked nothing like the webpage pictured it. The town itself is also going downhill fast. It is always sad to see these rural towns go to pot. Monday I headed out as fast as I could, and got home just in time for my afternoon nap!
Glorious road, I did not follow because of time.
So another tick on my bucket list, and I am still alive to report on it.
