Carnivore
Race Dog
PART 2 go to https://wilddog.net.za/forum/index.php?topic=15605.msg241459#msg241459 for part 1
And now we started to play in the Menoaneng Passâ?¦
â?¦ and things are starting to flow, the Stallion does not miss a beat and I am having fun. Allan is having a blast too, and realizes that he should theoretically be somewhat boredâ?¦ after all, his riding partner today is an out-of-practice old dude on an oldish BMWâ?¦ whoah! Stop the bus..! Heyâ?¦. Where isâ?¦ what the heckâ?¦. Oh Sh&* ../..
I gingerly feel the various parts of my body, my eyes, mouth, each limb. All working, no bloodâ?¦ ok stand up!
Hellâ?¦ dizzy, out of breath!
I came over a gentle rise, into a left curve, that was suddenly negatively cambered towards the mountain side on my rightâ?¦ I had no ways of staying upright. The front wheel washed out â?? I caught it but could not steer out of the deep natural culvert and I smashed into the side of the bloody mountain, thankfully by now, slowed to about 40kmh, and into the only sandy patch between the rocky outcrops. When I finally pop my clogs and go to see my Maker and Saviour, I will have to take plenty boxes of chocolates and flowers to all those guardian angels that I have put into the Heavenly Hospital. I think this one accounted for about 5 or 6.
The Palomino Stallion has survived again. Not too much damage. One bent brake pedal. This is a strong machine!
Out with the tools from the depths of this cavernous bag (now thankfully only containing 2 litres of fuel)
and the pedal gets yet another straightening exercise.
Now my left hand hand starts to swell, and my chest is sore. We still have the Matebeng aheadâ?¦ tra la la.. â??Brace up boy! You are an Adventurer, are you not?â? says one voice in my head. I try to ignore the other voiceâ?¦ Lesotho is not for sissies.
And so we come upon Andrew from Denmark. Finished his studies, save up his Government subsidies and is touring SA.
Nice pleasant strong young man. All the best to you Andrew, travel safe!.
So, at Taung, we take a left turn onto the Matabeng Roadâ?¦ here we go! The other road goes to Thaba Tseka.
We ride abovge the Senqu River as it flows south.
At Sehonghong, I am a little surprised to see an airstrip. I thought, â??well, at least a MediAir Cessna can get me out of hereâ?¦ â?? â??No! Stop thinking like that!â?
And then the Sehonghong Passâ?¦ This is not so much a road as a dumping ground for loose rock.
Ahâ?¦ glad thatâ??s overâ?¦.
Nope!!!
Leaving this behind,
â?¦ we enter the Matabeng Pass and ride along the riverâ?¦ really pretty.
At some stage along this road, we stop for some biltong and cheese and a breather. Remember this spotâ?¦
Were we going to be yet another victim of stoning by local youngsters?
Noâ?¦ friendly waves and the camera doing its thing.
Impressive mountains.
â?¦and lovely people â?? an old man and his daughter.
â?¦ and their home?
The time is now about 4 pm. The mountains ahead are boiling and there are flashes in the heavens, and rumblings all around. This is so fantastic to be amongst the mountains with a goodly storm brewingâ?¦ No macho hereâ?¦ I am as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. But it is too impressive to ignore. And it gets betterâ?¦ or worseâ?¦. Depends on your perspective and paradigm.
The Matabeng Pass scythes its way up the mountain to 3230 m.
This is the view through the nek into the Seshlabatebe area.
And looking backâ?¦. No escape!
I reach the top first.
â?¦ and get my rainsuit out. (Decided to don an outer covering rather than disrobe to fit the liners in my Richa kit.) My hand is just not co-operating. I have been riding with a light touch on the steering and holding on with my legs since I came unstuck. This body is rather tired!
As Allan comes up to join me� he realizes that his back pack is still down at the biltong and cheese rest point��..! DAMN! His rain suit� 3 litre hydrapak�other stuff�
He decides to go get it, and tells me to wait. With my hand, I would be a liability to race back down the mountain again. So, reluctantly, I let him go, and began to talk earnestly to God about protection and such matters. Quick mental arithmeticâ?¦ give him 1 hourâ?¦
As I am standing there, having donned my suit, the lightning starts in the immediate surrounds, and God starts to rearrange his workshop, while some serious Creational welding takes place. I look up at this buttress and know that today I will not dieâ?¦ I am awestruck by the bigness of the earth and creation and how small and dependant I am.
It has been half and hour since Allan left. I start to peer into the distanceâ?¦
YES!!! There comes Allan â?? I see his light.
Coming closerâ?¦
â?¦ and closer!
When we are together again, I see that he has not found his pack. Gone, missing, vanished. He is understandably upset, and probably not a little vexed at himself. Ahâ?¦ we can blame all sorts of things and circumstancesâ?¦ Perhaps in helping me to do my troublesome zip down there at our rest stop, he was distracted and forgot to put it onâ?¦
Well, there is no merit in recriminations. This trip is about lessons upon lessons. I am learning (a new dog..) he is still learning (an old dog..) You NEVER stop learning.
The end of the day is but 34 km away, it is 5 pm. Not yet dark, sunset is probably 90 minutes away. So we set off for the Seshlabatebe National Park. I am following my active track on my GPSIII+ which I pre-loaded from Google Earth. I know which way to go at the next two junctions, by taking the logical choice and verifying the direction after 20 metres. We get to Seshlabatebe village and proceed to the Entrance Gate, also marked as a waypoint. The sign says 10km into the park. The road looks bad â?? stones and rocks and newly dumped broken screeâ?¦ but not yet compacted. Erosion ditches, grooves, ruts and outcrops. All good stuff for an able bodied adventure rider, but this boyo was crocked!
No pictures of this section, but we duly arrive at a lovely house in this gentle plain set against the mountains. Beautiful!
We call out into the apparently deserted lodge, â??anyone homeâ?¦?... Hellooooo..!â? We find a gracious lady housekeeper in her small house around the back. We enquire about other establishments in the village. If it rains tonight, the road just traveled will be like liquid snot. Perhaps we had better move back into the village and pick up another place to sleepâ?¦
She tells us about some other guys on bikes who went back into the village to get some chow. â??WHAT?â? I ask!
Who the heck would do that? Only some really competent (or desperately hungry) riders, surelyâ?¦?
Then we hear the sound. A glorious symphony of almost 2000 ccâ??s of high performance engines shouting for joy in their natural habitatâ?¦ 1 x KTM 640 Adventure, and a pair of XT660Rsâ?¦ with revised pipes..
â??Hi! Hullo! Howzit! Where, what when, which wayâ?¦! Great stuff! Come, share our chow, look! We got some beer too!â?
Who are these Giants? Realisation dawnsâ?¦ we are being treated to the wonderful company and stories and fun and antics of our National Enduro-winning duo, arch rivals and best of friends, Darryl Curtis and Gray Dick, accompanied by Zack Botha. Just traveled from Ramabantha via the boats at Senqu crossing. What a lovely end to the day!
The stories of crashes and racing, business and motivation, life and just general good stuff, last well into the evening.
The next morning greets us with a glorious sunshine day. How great not to have left prematurely the night before. The Boys disappear into the mountains like three Jack Russells chasing rabbits. I have enjoyed their company so much!
There a lot of horses in Lesothoâ?¦
Well, this to be our last day in the mountains. Sorry, but I can barely squeeze the clutch. I still have a job and a family, and I do not feel like falling off a mountain trackâ?¦ so Ramatselisoâ??s Gate is the destination, about 40 km away. We return along our track.
The road along the edge of the escarpment is easyâ?¦
â?¦ and we reach the border post with no mishap of drama. The Lesotho officials are super-social and we banter back and forth. So with our passports stamped we scoot up into the RSA side and have some fun with the officials there. And so we begin the ride down into the foothills of Natal, heading for Matatiele. This is about 40 km, and the road down the mountain is not exactly a boulevard!
And soâ?¦. 650km later, we reach East London, at 16:30. A day early and Allan has been setting a cracking pace. Seems like he was rather keen to see a certain lady again..!
After some photo swapping, and some beer, coffee, biltong, and banter, I pull on my gear, and fill up for the last time at my friendâ??s garage in Beacon Bay. I latch on to the tail of a Sprinter bus and trailer, and hook a freebie to Port Alfredâ??s Beavers Restaurant, for an ablutionary pitstop and pie and coffee. The bus driver was intrigued at having a Bmw on his tail that did not want to pass him, but being an old biker-and-all from Debbin, he knew exactly why I was hanging out there. My Stallionâ??s single H4 is not that great!
So, at Bluewater Bay, just outside PE, we enter the zone of freeway HPS lighting overkill, and I wave goodbye to my escort, and arrive at my humble abode at 11:30.pm.
Next time, I will take less stuff â?? my usual fear of â??being strandedâ? with â??not enough stuffâ? results in an over-inventory. This could have ramifications for my companions. I gotta get lighter in baggage.
Next time, I will be fitterâ?¦ lighterâ?¦!
Next time, I will prep my bike better. I seriously suspect the integrity of my front suspension, which surely contributed to the other factors causing my crash, and also dropping the bike on that white rocky slope.
Next time, I will pay attention and go slowerâ?¦. Yeah. Eish!
Thanks, Allan, for looking after me. I loved the ride. Next time, we go in at Ramatseliso and carry onâ?¦
And now we started to play in the Menoaneng Passâ?¦
â?¦ and things are starting to flow, the Stallion does not miss a beat and I am having fun. Allan is having a blast too, and realizes that he should theoretically be somewhat boredâ?¦ after all, his riding partner today is an out-of-practice old dude on an oldish BMWâ?¦ whoah! Stop the bus..! Heyâ?¦. Where isâ?¦ what the heckâ?¦. Oh Sh&* ../..
I gingerly feel the various parts of my body, my eyes, mouth, each limb. All working, no bloodâ?¦ ok stand up!
Hellâ?¦ dizzy, out of breath!
I came over a gentle rise, into a left curve, that was suddenly negatively cambered towards the mountain side on my rightâ?¦ I had no ways of staying upright. The front wheel washed out â?? I caught it but could not steer out of the deep natural culvert and I smashed into the side of the bloody mountain, thankfully by now, slowed to about 40kmh, and into the only sandy patch between the rocky outcrops. When I finally pop my clogs and go to see my Maker and Saviour, I will have to take plenty boxes of chocolates and flowers to all those guardian angels that I have put into the Heavenly Hospital. I think this one accounted for about 5 or 6.
The Palomino Stallion has survived again. Not too much damage. One bent brake pedal. This is a strong machine!
Out with the tools from the depths of this cavernous bag (now thankfully only containing 2 litres of fuel)
and the pedal gets yet another straightening exercise.
Now my left hand hand starts to swell, and my chest is sore. We still have the Matebeng aheadâ?¦ tra la la.. â??Brace up boy! You are an Adventurer, are you not?â? says one voice in my head. I try to ignore the other voiceâ?¦ Lesotho is not for sissies.
And so we come upon Andrew from Denmark. Finished his studies, save up his Government subsidies and is touring SA.
Nice pleasant strong young man. All the best to you Andrew, travel safe!.
So, at Taung, we take a left turn onto the Matabeng Roadâ?¦ here we go! The other road goes to Thaba Tseka.
We ride abovge the Senqu River as it flows south.
At Sehonghong, I am a little surprised to see an airstrip. I thought, â??well, at least a MediAir Cessna can get me out of hereâ?¦ â?? â??No! Stop thinking like that!â?
And then the Sehonghong Passâ?¦ This is not so much a road as a dumping ground for loose rock.
Ahâ?¦ glad thatâ??s overâ?¦.
Nope!!!
Leaving this behind,
â?¦ we enter the Matabeng Pass and ride along the riverâ?¦ really pretty.
At some stage along this road, we stop for some biltong and cheese and a breather. Remember this spotâ?¦
Were we going to be yet another victim of stoning by local youngsters?
Noâ?¦ friendly waves and the camera doing its thing.
Impressive mountains.
â?¦and lovely people â?? an old man and his daughter.
â?¦ and their home?
The time is now about 4 pm. The mountains ahead are boiling and there are flashes in the heavens, and rumblings all around. This is so fantastic to be amongst the mountains with a goodly storm brewingâ?¦ No macho hereâ?¦ I am as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. But it is too impressive to ignore. And it gets betterâ?¦ or worseâ?¦. Depends on your perspective and paradigm.
The Matabeng Pass scythes its way up the mountain to 3230 m.
This is the view through the nek into the Seshlabatebe area.
And looking backâ?¦. No escape!
I reach the top first.
â?¦ and get my rainsuit out. (Decided to don an outer covering rather than disrobe to fit the liners in my Richa kit.) My hand is just not co-operating. I have been riding with a light touch on the steering and holding on with my legs since I came unstuck. This body is rather tired!
As Allan comes up to join me� he realizes that his back pack is still down at the biltong and cheese rest point��..! DAMN! His rain suit� 3 litre hydrapak�other stuff�
He decides to go get it, and tells me to wait. With my hand, I would be a liability to race back down the mountain again. So, reluctantly, I let him go, and began to talk earnestly to God about protection and such matters. Quick mental arithmeticâ?¦ give him 1 hourâ?¦
As I am standing there, having donned my suit, the lightning starts in the immediate surrounds, and God starts to rearrange his workshop, while some serious Creational welding takes place. I look up at this buttress and know that today I will not dieâ?¦ I am awestruck by the bigness of the earth and creation and how small and dependant I am.
It has been half and hour since Allan left. I start to peer into the distanceâ?¦
YES!!! There comes Allan â?? I see his light.
Coming closerâ?¦
â?¦ and closer!
When we are together again, I see that he has not found his pack. Gone, missing, vanished. He is understandably upset, and probably not a little vexed at himself. Ahâ?¦ we can blame all sorts of things and circumstancesâ?¦ Perhaps in helping me to do my troublesome zip down there at our rest stop, he was distracted and forgot to put it onâ?¦
Well, there is no merit in recriminations. This trip is about lessons upon lessons. I am learning (a new dog..) he is still learning (an old dog..) You NEVER stop learning.
The end of the day is but 34 km away, it is 5 pm. Not yet dark, sunset is probably 90 minutes away. So we set off for the Seshlabatebe National Park. I am following my active track on my GPSIII+ which I pre-loaded from Google Earth. I know which way to go at the next two junctions, by taking the logical choice and verifying the direction after 20 metres. We get to Seshlabatebe village and proceed to the Entrance Gate, also marked as a waypoint. The sign says 10km into the park. The road looks bad â?? stones and rocks and newly dumped broken screeâ?¦ but not yet compacted. Erosion ditches, grooves, ruts and outcrops. All good stuff for an able bodied adventure rider, but this boyo was crocked!
No pictures of this section, but we duly arrive at a lovely house in this gentle plain set against the mountains. Beautiful!
We call out into the apparently deserted lodge, â??anyone homeâ?¦?... Hellooooo..!â? We find a gracious lady housekeeper in her small house around the back. We enquire about other establishments in the village. If it rains tonight, the road just traveled will be like liquid snot. Perhaps we had better move back into the village and pick up another place to sleepâ?¦
She tells us about some other guys on bikes who went back into the village to get some chow. â??WHAT?â? I ask!
Who the heck would do that? Only some really competent (or desperately hungry) riders, surelyâ?¦?
Then we hear the sound. A glorious symphony of almost 2000 ccâ??s of high performance engines shouting for joy in their natural habitatâ?¦ 1 x KTM 640 Adventure, and a pair of XT660Rsâ?¦ with revised pipes..
â??Hi! Hullo! Howzit! Where, what when, which wayâ?¦! Great stuff! Come, share our chow, look! We got some beer too!â?
Who are these Giants? Realisation dawnsâ?¦ we are being treated to the wonderful company and stories and fun and antics of our National Enduro-winning duo, arch rivals and best of friends, Darryl Curtis and Gray Dick, accompanied by Zack Botha. Just traveled from Ramabantha via the boats at Senqu crossing. What a lovely end to the day!
The stories of crashes and racing, business and motivation, life and just general good stuff, last well into the evening.
The next morning greets us with a glorious sunshine day. How great not to have left prematurely the night before. The Boys disappear into the mountains like three Jack Russells chasing rabbits. I have enjoyed their company so much!
There a lot of horses in Lesothoâ?¦
Well, this to be our last day in the mountains. Sorry, but I can barely squeeze the clutch. I still have a job and a family, and I do not feel like falling off a mountain trackâ?¦ so Ramatselisoâ??s Gate is the destination, about 40 km away. We return along our track.
The road along the edge of the escarpment is easyâ?¦
â?¦ and we reach the border post with no mishap of drama. The Lesotho officials are super-social and we banter back and forth. So with our passports stamped we scoot up into the RSA side and have some fun with the officials there. And so we begin the ride down into the foothills of Natal, heading for Matatiele. This is about 40 km, and the road down the mountain is not exactly a boulevard!
And soâ?¦. 650km later, we reach East London, at 16:30. A day early and Allan has been setting a cracking pace. Seems like he was rather keen to see a certain lady again..!
After some photo swapping, and some beer, coffee, biltong, and banter, I pull on my gear, and fill up for the last time at my friendâ??s garage in Beacon Bay. I latch on to the tail of a Sprinter bus and trailer, and hook a freebie to Port Alfredâ??s Beavers Restaurant, for an ablutionary pitstop and pie and coffee. The bus driver was intrigued at having a Bmw on his tail that did not want to pass him, but being an old biker-and-all from Debbin, he knew exactly why I was hanging out there. My Stallionâ??s single H4 is not that great!
So, at Bluewater Bay, just outside PE, we enter the zone of freeway HPS lighting overkill, and I wave goodbye to my escort, and arrive at my humble abode at 11:30.pm.
Next time, I will take less stuff â?? my usual fear of â??being strandedâ? with â??not enough stuffâ? results in an over-inventory. This could have ramifications for my companions. I gotta get lighter in baggage.
Next time, I will be fitterâ?¦ lighterâ?¦!
Next time, I will prep my bike better. I seriously suspect the integrity of my front suspension, which surely contributed to the other factors causing my crash, and also dropping the bike on that white rocky slope.
Next time, I will pay attention and go slowerâ?¦. Yeah. Eish!
Thanks, Allan, for looking after me. I loved the ride. Next time, we go in at Ramatseliso and carry onâ?¦
