So, it's been a while since my last post, and I apologise for depriving you of such detail rich snippets from the world of bike touring. The main reason for lack of activity is that I've not done much of interest - one 70km tandem ride with Chloe, and a couple of half loaded cradle rides on Tina. Kept to around 120km/week, but not exciting miles to be honest. All that changed however, with the Easter break. We were looking for somewhere new, and hayfever friendly for Chloe. That translates as somewhere dry and brown, which is normally what the Northern Cape looks like. SA is bloody massive, so I booked 3 nights camping at Augrabies Falls NP. Upon map consultation and the realisation that it's about 900km from Joburg to Augrabies I decided 3 nights offered a fairly poor sitting in a land rover:outdoor enjoyment ratio. So I then booked a night at Witsands Nature Reserve on the way out. This was supposed to act as a bit of a journey break, but wasn't really. It's very nice, with massive sand dunes and good birding, and a very nice campsite, but its 'driveway' is 70km of pretty terrible dirt roads, made worse by recent rainfall (bad for hayfever too!). We were on course for about 7,5 hour journey time when this happened... For the record, the landy was trotting along fine and we were going along nicely - there was also a Fortuner (the Defender's mortal enemy) behind us towing a larnie bush trailer, so it was nice to rinse him on the dirt. I suppose I got a bit bored of the little puddles, so I started to increasingly just plough through the middle of them, spraying filth and water everywhere. It was glorious! Then disaster struck; the puddle fought back. I was basically caught out going too slow (2nd high range), and lost momentum. Every off roader worth his salt knows that one of the golden rules is never stop in mud, and we'd come to a rather ominous standstill. Cue LR and some wheelspinning etc; NOTHING. Then the Fortuner sailed by....and didn't stop to offer insistence. I couldn't decide whether this was just plain rude, or a relief given that he was in a Toyota. Anyway, a farmer soon came along is his bakkie (pick up) and we had a go getting me out. We snapped my tow rope straight away, so he went off for a chain from the farm. That didn't snap, but it didn't get us out either. We tried from both directions and decided that she was sat on her diffs, so wheels weren't touching the ground. A few more bakkies came by, and there were a few unintelligible conversations about what to do (and probably what a stupid English wanker I was, in a stupid English car). It was all denim short shorts with khaki up top, and leather ankle boots for a while, but I must say they were all very nice. In the end message was sent to the camp to bring the tractor. It turns out camp was only 5km away - soooo close - but it still took a while to chug its way to us. I was hoping for a John Deere, but was disappointed in those stakes. It was some light blue contraption being managed by a delightful toothless chap with fag in mouth, called Petrus (or Petrietus). Their towing cable looked a bit iffy, but we had a go anyway - she wouldn't budge! The tractor was then put in low range and we had another go. That's when the cable gave out. So I was right in that regard at least. Cue some rather African bodging of said cable to make another loop for the towbar and we gave it another shot. Success! The makeshift knot held, which was impressive considering the force bent the D-Link holding the other end to the truck. I thanked them heartily and sent them off with a pack of Windhoek for their troubles. These were returned with an instruction to drop them at reception as too bumpy to hold onto them. I duly depostied them, and was rather surprised when Petrus reappeared half an hour later and uttered one single word: 'Beeer'. I informed him that it was at reception and off he trotted. I thought I was about to be shaken down for another six-pack, and with no camp shop, got slightly worried, but my fears were unfounded. Phew! Witsand was a nice spot, but Augrabies was still another 4 hours away, so after a morning walk and a slice of homemade simnel cake (extremely delicious, especially if you are a marzipan fan as I am) we set off about 11. It was 50km the other way to tar, but better roads so not too bad. We saw a couple of Southern Chanting Goshawks which was nice, and the Social Weaver nests on all the telegraph poles were quite amusing. Such was their proceative zeal that there were a lot of collapsed, or collapsing poles along the route. This one reminded me of a jellyfish, with the old wires resembling tentacles. I actually only decided to take Tina with me on the morning we departed, so it was a fairly last minute decision, but I'm glad I did. She got some early use at Witsand when I packed the panniers with beer and crisps and cycled to the bird hide. Fairly disappointing turnout with Namaqua doves, Laughing Doves, and Red cheeked Mousebirds dominating proceedings. Anyway, I agreed with Chloe that I would drive most of the way to Augrabies (whilst she slept) and then I would get out and cycle the rest of the way. It was quite a long drive, but I must say a beautiful one, with the dry, open landscape contrasting with the fruit and wine farming along the banks of the Orange River. I also thought I saw a crocodile at one point, but turns out it was just a huge lizardy type thing basking on the tar. Less exciting, but still fairly exotic. After a bit of an argument over toilet breaks, we diverted to a back road rather than the N14, and we stopped there for lunch. So that's the view from lunch, and I set off from there with what I thought was about 70km to go. After some time fannying around with the gopro, I was underway at about 3pm. Not too hot, but with a gate closing time of 6pm at the park I was under the cosh a bit time-wise. It was great but tough riding. Not too corrugated or sandy, but enough to keep you on your toes. It soon became apparent that Tina wasn't a massive fan of the rough stuff - my rear mudguard started rubbing and catching as it had torn, and I lost a horn on my rear skull. Then one of my water bottles mysteriously punctured - so mysteriously in fact that I was puzzled by my sudden slightly wet feet, but looking heavenward and seeing clear skies I dismissed rain delays. It wasn't until about an hour later when I was thirsty for some Ice Tea that I realised I'd left it all on the road about 20km back. After that my front derailleur decided it didn't like the middle cog. I felt a bit sorry for Tina as I was giving it the beans to try and make the gate, and not being a terribly sympathetic rider. Luckily only the first 30km was dirt, so after some really beautiful riding, and about 3 cars and one pedestrian, I was spat back out onto some tar and civilisation. I got to the gate at 6:01, but they were very chilled and friendly. Then it was a leisurely 3km to the campsite as the sun was setting. The next day I did 50km all on dirt roads within the park. I saw 6 cars I think, and a herd of about 40 Springbok. It was very cool seeing them as you don't get in Kruger etc as not the right habitat. You can also hear them stampede when you're on the bike, which is fun. The following day I persuaded Chloe to help fold up the Rooftop Tent and go for a drive. We left at 11 and stopped for lunch at 1 ish having seen 1 car the whole time. Initially we saw naff all, but I think it's a case of getting your eye-in in a different bush landscape as we began to see Oryx, Hartebeest, and lots of springbok. Eland (apart from a dead one in roadkill section) eluded us despite all the spoor on the roads. Chloe took a few action shots of me before zooming off so that she could relax (or sleep) by the pool. I think we were about 50km from home, and was going along nicely for about half an hour. I had 10km done, and was coming up to a steep section ascending from a dry (but deep sandy) riverbed. The uphill is concreted for grip for the cars, so as I came zooming out the river bed I hit the concrete. There was a big lip so I wheelied the front wheel over, but then the back wheel caught it with full force at speed. Pop and hiss - the tyre was flat before I'd got to the top of the hill. Bloody shocker! Normally it wouldn't be a problem, but because I was on holiday, and on half panniers, all my spares and tools were back in Joburg. I forlornly put the pump on to see if the sealant would hold if I reinflated. That did not work, and neither did cell phone coverage. I reasoned that I wasn't going to die given that Chloe would probably realise and come and look for me if I didn't show up eventually, but I was very aware that that would not be for at least another 3 hours, and that I was on the remote part of the loop. I decided that I would just carry on riding with a flat and deal with the consequences later. I'd done about 6km when I came across a whole other type of bachelor herd - 4 Indian guys in a Hyundai Tucson. It was very quickly apparent that me and the bike were not going to fit in, so I issued Gogol with instructions to call Chloe when they had signal and appraise her of the situation, and gave them my panniers so that I was lighter. As they sped off, I did wonder whether I should have tried a bit harder to force Tina into their tiny, hire-car-clean boot, but I soldiered on. I was a bit worried about what damage I was doing to the bike, but decided the risk outweighed the tedium of walking and pushing. It was good resistance training, like cycling through treacle, and the back end kept squirming about, which kept things amusingly spicy. It was like Tokyo Drift in the countryside at pointsAfter about another 6km I got onto the 'main' loop and was rewarded for my efforts by a white bakkie (classic) going the other way. It was an Afrikaans family on holiday from Springbok, and after ascertaining that they were turning around, I asked them if they could pick me up on the way back whilst I cycled a bit more. I didn't want them to feel like they had to alter plans to suit some mad cyclist in the middle of nowhere, but they reappeared about 15mins later just as I was attempting to parley with another car I'd come across. In the end it was fine. I felt pretty guilty when the wife vacated the front seat and got in the back, but think I kept the tone light enough to not be awkward by regaling them with plans for my trip. We then moved onto serious man-talk at the business end of the car - Rolf was a mining engineer for Vedanta at Graskop, so we discussed mining and shipping and how complicated ventilation formulae are. They dropped me off at the (wrong) swimming pool, and then I went via reception for my panniers which Gogol and co had left there for me. Lesson learnt: you can't bunny hop a tourer, so slow and steady wins the race. It was a formative experience though, and only a ruined tyre and inner tube to show for it, so not too bad. All in all, it was a great trip. Unfortunately the last time all the 3 women in my life will be together, as the truck has now gone to a new home, and Chloe flies back to the UK a week today. Soon it will be just Tina and I taking on Africa!
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AuthorSam Brook - A mildly Africanised Pom about to cycle from Joburg to Nairobi. Archives
August 2017
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