South Africa Baviaanskloof Adventure

 

South  Africa 3.7.08

 

From our Hotel in Hermanus, we could see waves crashing against cliffs

as we enjoyed a buffet breakfast. We headed east along the coast

towards Cape Agulhas, the southern tip of Africa. Though the day

before was hot and sunny, this day was our first taste of African

rain. We put our heads down and rode for about an hour and a half

before stopping in a small town for hot coffee and tea. The place was

very quaint and offered freshly baked muffins and cakes. Pat and Nina

said they would be fine if we left them there, as the atmosphere

was so relaxing and nice.

We started out in the rain again, riding straight south for the

coast. When we arrived there, the wind was blowing hard and warm and

you could see the breakers crashing all along the coast. I tried to

imagine what it would be like to run the spice route back in the

1700’s when the wind is howling, and the only faith you have is in GOD

and the sails not tearing apart.

We pulled into the unassuming parking lot at the tip of the

continent. The wind was driving the ocean against the shores, and

blowing foam across the ground. We walked down to the monument that

simply stated: This way Indian Ocean, That way Atlantic. They say that

this is where the warm waters of the Indian meet the Atlantic. I asked

John if he ever thought he would be standing at the very southern tip

of Africa. He grew pensive and said, “I have thought of many crazy

things to do with my life, and this one I have never imagined.” We

took the usual pictures and then I stepped back and watched the waves

crashing, the foam migrating and the smiles and idle chatter of the

group and reflected on how remarkable this journey was. This was the end

of the Dark Continent.

Steve, Jeti guide, took us to a little lunch spot located at the

base of lighthouse nearby. More than just a restaurant, it doubled as

museum and for $2, you could climb the steep ladders to the top of the

retired lighthouse and even go to the very top and walk around

outside, precariously perched high above it all.

After lunch, the plan was to get to our Hotel in Arniston early,

and then do some more riding. However, the weather turned even uglier,

so we all agreed to hang our helmets. The hotel was terrific, and the

best we stayed at so far: ample places to sit and relax and watch the

ocean out of the elements, a pool, a spa, full bar and large,

comfortable rooms.

 

Arniston was renamed for a British ship that crashed upon the shore

while on it way back to England in 1815. Of the 350 crew, only 6

survived, making it to shore. After that, the beaches were littered

from flotsam from the wreckage, many of the artifacts being displayed

around the hotel. Also hanging from a wall in the bar was a list of

all the shipwrecks along the southern tip of Africa since the 1600’s.

It amazing to think of all the courageous acts, disasters and dangers

during those times.

 

The next day, we get a call at our room from Steve, asking us if we

wanted to join him to go explore a cave down by the ocean. "We must

hurry," he said, "We can only get to the cave during low tide."

 

We jumped into the support truck and drove down to the beach. After some

searching around, we came across it but could not get inside for the

tide was already too high. However, there was a small entrance from

behind the cave which we could squeeze through. It opened up into a

large chamber with vaulted ceilings. The wind died completely and

there was a moment of total peace. It was quite a place!

The wind seemed to pick up and the rain started again, so,

needless to say, the group was not chomping at the bit to get on the

bikes. Once we distanced ourselves from the coast, though, the clouds

started to break up and wind died. Under sunny skies, we picked some

dirt back roads to cross the country.

Ostriches don’t like motorcycles at all. As we passed some Ostrich

farms, flocks of them scattered in terror. At one point, though, we

stopped the engines and sat for a short while. Instantly, the curious

beasts came over to the fence like llamas. There we sat for a few

minutes watching each other. Steve held his glove out and one or two

of them curiously pecked at it. They say that their brains are no

larger than their eyeballs. No matter, they taste good, and they are

fairly cute. And, you can ride them!

At the small town of Malgas, we came across one of the last

working Ponts (ferry) that is driven purely by man power. We crossed

the river, and watched is disbelief the two men rhythmically and

methodically grappled a chain around the ferry cable and then pulled

with the help of a harness the ferry across the river by walking the

length of it. Steve said that there were only two of these kinds of

Ponts in all of South Africa.

Then, the problems started. A hose clamp fell off the support truck

losing all the water in it, so the engine seized. Luckily, we were

close to the town of Swellendam, and had the opportunity to have lunch

at a peaceful little restaurant under the shade of the trees while we

sorted all the logistics out. At the end, the boys decided to keep

riding and the ladies enjoyed a lazy afternoon checking out the town.

Steve and our support paramedic Neels worked out a way to get

another vehicle on the way, and to have the defunct truck hauled to

the nearest garage.

I took the rest of the gang on a terrific ride through the mountains.

The first pass road was short but sweet with perfectly banked curves

and sticky pavement. Turn upon turn of glorious riding gave way to a

spectacular background of high cliffs over a rugged and arid ravine

with a small stream snaking through it. At the end of the first pass,

everyone was smiling. You think that is cool…

We skirted the mountains east and found an off-the-beaten-path dirt

road and shot down it. Immediately, we were remote with few houses and

only scrub brush in all directions. Yet another serene spaghetti

western scene brought to you by South Africa. We had just come from

lush farm land a half an hour before, and now we were in the desert.

If there is anything to be said about South Africa is how quickly the

microclimates change….almost at the snap of a finger! We blasted down

the dusty road, so open and easy. At the end of it, we came back to a

paved highway that headed right back into the mountains. Again, smiles

all around.

One more dramatic paved pass through the mountains and the desert

again gave away to lush cow pastures, pine forests and greenery. The

sweepers were tremendous as we descended back to the coast. We hit the

N2 east for Mossel Bay. The light was at our backs and you could see

your silhouette against the tarmac. The cars and trucks we passed all

gave way to us as our group filed home. What a day of riding!

 

The girls decided to stay the night in Swellendam instead of arriving

late to Mossel Bay. Steve had them checked into a 5 star B&B and they

were happy as clams, enjoying luxury and quiet. The hotel we checked

into looked out over the ocean again. We took advantage of the

scenery, for in a couple of days, we would not have the opportunity to

see the ocean again until Cape Town. That night, we enjoyed a great

seafood dinner and turned in early.

 

 

The next day, we headed for Knysna (pronounced nice-nah). Steve

and Nees were busy sorting out the ladies, the luggage, and the new

support vehicle, so Jeff and I took the boys out for the ride. The

itinerary only showed a little over 100kms for the day, so Steve, Jeff

and I poured over the map, and I decided on some back roads to

explore. We headed over as many passes as we could, and at the end of

the day, my odometer read 320 km, with much of it being dirt roads.

I have to say, riding some of the side roads through this country

allows for the rider to get a true sense of the country and the way of

life. No tour buses here! Only tractors, farm trucks and a couple of

cars were passed on these sections. We took a road that had no name

and was not on some of the maps….and it turned out to be the highlight

of the entire day. It wound along the ridge of some hills, providing

vast views from rugged mountains to rolling hills to the ocean. You

could see forever. Once in a while, the road would dip into a utopic

valley where crops were lush, workers waved and the smells of cattle

and crop were thick.

David said that a baboon ran out in front of him…just a reminder

that you are in Africa! So many times you look at over the scenery and

wonder just where you are. South Africa seems to have a familiar scene

that fits anywhere in the world. We crossed once again over to the dry

region north of the mountains by way of another winding paved highway.

Again, all the curves were banked and again no traffic.

There needs to be said that one of the most influential qualities

of riding is the traffic. You can take a great road and throw a couple

thousand slow drivers on it and the experience is OK. You take the

same road and take away all the cars….you know the answer. In South

Africa, EVERY ROAD outside the main towns, that is not a major

highway, is empty. It is as if they created a motorcycle heaven where

the terrain and roads vary so much that you can ride the world in just

one day!

 

We pulled in for gas in Oudtshoorn (Ostrich capital of the world)

and put up with the 36 degree (Celsius) temperatures. We ate in the

shade, put our gear on in the shade, and hit the road, hoping the wind

would cool us down. But no! It was like riding in a blow dryer! Soon,

however, we crossed the mountain range one more time, leaving the arid

for the lush. Instead of hooking up with the N2 (highway) for the rest

of the way, we took an alternative, and again were blessed with

terrific scenery and riding. This time, the road narrowed, the curves

multiplied, and the forest moved in from all sides. It was as if the

forest was trying to reclaim the road, it was almost like riding in a

tunnel. We finished the day on the shores of the large salt water

inlet. John commented that we had seen it all that day: paved

twisties, lush forests, arid desert, straight paved roads, curvaceous

dirt roads, straight dirt roads, hard packed dirt, rolly pollys…I

think you get the idea!

Again, our hotel was very nice, located right on the water next to

many shops, restaurants, and a boat harbor. The ladies made it back to

us too, so the gang got back together!

 

 

Free Day: Knysna

Nina, Bill, Pat, Roger and I took it easy and walked the harbor

front. The hotel that we were staying at was located right on the

water. From the swimming pool you could see the sun set over the

distant hills, over the inlet. Sailboat masts, the smell of the sea

and the sound of water lapping against fiberglass hulls dominated the

scene. The waterfront in Knysna was upscale and clean and had a

variety of shops and nice restaurants, all with full view of the

inlet. There were some canals with very nice homes with sailboats

docked out front.

Meanwhile, Steve and Jeff take the riders on a terrific loop into

the mountains. Though the skies were gray with the threat of rain, the

riders enjoyed sunny skies almost all day, once they popped over the

mountains. The road they took out of Knysna started out curvy with

thick forest on all sides. At times it turned dark and tunnel-like.

There used to be a sign on the road that said “Beware of wild

Elephants”, but it is said that one of them destroyed it. The road

then peaked out with grand views of the surrounding mountains and

countryside…on the precipice of wet and dry micro climates. The rest

of the pass was dirt, and wound through, up and over an arid pass.

Some of the curves were cut out of the rock, leaving overhangs.

Neels, in the support vehicle, had a difficult time getting over some

of the shallow stream crossings with the trailer and the extra bike. A

brute of a fellow, he managed to unhitch the trailer and pull it

across a couple of them by hand! Klein Trekker – “Small Tractor” would

be the new Afrikaans words of the day.

 

Then, the riders took the famous Highway 62 West to connect up with

a great dirt pass road which descended and twisted its way back

through the mountains. This particular road had been there for over a

100 years and seldom had traffic on it. When you were riding along,

you could look down over the rock guard far below. Couple this with

high rocky peaks all around and you have one grand scene!

That evening, we all got together and shared our day’s events at a

nice restaurant on the water, not a stones-throw distance away from

the hotel.

 

The next day would be our last day along the coast of South Africa.

Our goal was Jeffrey’s Bay, one of the most famous surfing

destinations in the world. It was the town featured in the famous

surfing movie “Endless Summer”. Since the rest of the tour would be

through the interior, we stuck to the coast, deviating as many times

as possible off the main highway, picking our way back and forth from

quaint countryside to the coast.

We took one route which said: “Closed due to Water Damage”, but

decided as a group to go check it out anyway. What we found was a

tranquil little resort town and a real adventure.

 

The town of Natures Valley is not much of a town, but rather a

conglomeration of unassuming vacation homes tucked silently away in

thick bush. As we approached the “town” a monkey and a deer were on

the road, and as they saw us, took off in opposite directions into an

impossibly thick weave of forest. What were they doing there together?

Are they part of the secret alliance?

From any point in town, you could walk to a deserted beach in

only a couple of minutes. At the local restaurant, pictures of locals

with fish they caught adorn the walls. Dozens of hikers’ boots hung

from a tree outside. The service was overly friendly and relaxed and

while we had lunch, our group was approached by locals and travelers

alike. It was one of those lazy lunches in a tucked away part of the

world where you learned about all kinds of people. David mentioned

that this would be his choice for a retirement home. As we left the

place, you could only smile at the openness and laid-back atmosphere

of the place. Every vacation home was of a different style with no

fences between the houses. A barbeque was always in front of the

house. You get the feeling that this is the type of place where you

learn the art of the bar-be-que.

The locals told us the road ahead was indeed washed out, but that

the motorcycles could make it. They were right! The road had been

blocked off by piles of dirt and no car could pass. Around the side,

though, was a path which the BMWs could easily negotiate. Neels pulled

up with the support rig, looked it over and waved goodbye. …And then

began one of those days that you were grateful you were on a

motorcycle. We passed over a bridge that had been pummeled by high

water and trees. Then, we glanced by a large gouge in the road that no

car could pass, but where there was enough room for a motorcycle. Once

there, we smiled at each other and hit the road. It was as if there

had not been another soul on the road for months as the road surface

was littered with tree branches and rocks. We had stepped out of time

and were riding an African adventure!

The next leg of the road had more “Road Closed” signs that we

whizzed past. The curvaceous section of road was a delight, but you

had to keep your eye out for all sorts of obstacles: low hanging brush

being my favorite. Around a corner we came upon a troop of Baboons.

They scattered before us, alarmed by the sound of the engines. As it

was a winding downward slope, I signaled to David to cut the engine,

and we coasted down in silence, coming upon more and more of them. Its

times like these you the presence of Africa is with you, inside you.

The road followed a steep river gorge for a while with twists

and turns until it ascended to a plateau. There, an even more

foreboding road block faced us. There was only one way around: up over

a curve and through some bushes. I took the lead, and without

hesitation goosed it up the embankment, (caught a little air), and

lawn darted straight into a snag. So wedged into the dead tree, I was,

that I could walk away from the bike without having to put the

kickstand down. I looked back for help, but all I got was paparazzi.

We ended the day with straight back roads through forested and

farmed countryside. Along the way, we passed Neels, who gave us the

thumbs up, as if meeting him on the road was part of the plan.

We pulled into Jeffrey’s Bay to a nice little B&B right on the

ocean. The sound of waves crashing on the shore could be heard from

our rooms. Just before dinner, I walked up the stairs to visit Pat and

Roger and they were enjoying a glass of wine and looking out at the

serenity: A surfer sat idly on his board, looking out to a pod

dolphins leisurely playing along the coast. The ocean was still except

for some small waves rolling in. Pat turned to me and said that this

would be one her favorite memories of Africa.

 

 

The next morning, we headed from Jeffrey’s Bay straight for Addo

Elephant National Park. We had a hot date: a driver was waiting for us

to take us through the park. And, it was HOT! At first, riding along

the ocean was nice. The wind off the surf was cool and we had sweeping

views of sandy, almost deserted coastline. We passed through the

harbor hub of Port Elizabeth. The traffic hit a level we had not seen

for days. Loading cranes and warehouses sky-lined the shore as ships

dotted the harbor, waiting for cargo. We passed straight through,

looking to distance ourselves from the city before turning north

towards the park.

We exited North and stopped at a gasoline station to wait for the

chase vehicle to catch up. The gas station was located right across

the road from a black township. Groups of black men waited along the

road for taxis and buses. Razor wire lined every wall in sight.

Steve explained the hardships of the townships and how tough the

situation was during Apartied. At one time, this very township had had

an uprising, with many fatalities. Now, the government has stepped up,

he says, providing indoor plumbing, electricity and education for the

townships. South Africa is going through growing pains that are hard

to fathom for Americans. It seems like it will take quite a while

before equal opportunity is given to all South African residents.

A few of the locals came over and admired the bikes. Steve let one

of the fellows sit on his bike and we took pictures. Smiles all

around.

We parted from the coast and hit a wall of heat as we raced to

Addo. At the park, we found some shade and relief out of the sun and

ate lunch. As we finished, the driver from our hotel showed up and

invited us to meet him at his vehicle.

Before climbing aboard the safari rig, he handed us a drink of our

choice. Not bad!

Addo Elephant National Park is a corridor of land set aside to protect

not only elephants, but a large variety of animals. Farming and over

hunting almost did away with the entire population of Elephants in the

area. The last few were given this refuge, and with the introduction

of elephants from Kruger National Park, and strict management, the

population now numbers just under 500. Along with Elephants, you can

see Water Buffalos, Kudus, Ostriches, Wart Hogs, Jackals, Lions, and

Zebras.

We came upon a waterhole with dozens of Elephants. Some of them

were frolicking in the water, while most were grouped up tightly,

sleeping. Some of them walked lazily around in the heat. The Elephants

in this park are known especially for their non-aggressive demeanor.

They would walk right by the safari vehicle with out any indication

that we were a nuisance. Little ones played fight while their mothers

watched on.

We continued the tour through the park to a high hill overlooking open

grasslands. From there, while we enjoyed some appetizers, we could see

all sorts of animals walking around. The light of the setting sun

highlighted the views of the animals grazing throughout the fields.

Before sunset, we finished the tour, jumped on our bikes and rode

to the hotel. The road to it was one last treat before putting the

kickstand down for the night. The Hotel was perched on the top of a

nearby pass. To get there, we followed a winding dirt road which

climbed over 16 kilometers. The African setting sun cast our shadows

in front of us. A look back over the valley, and one would see an

amazing array of orange to light blue hues touching everything in the

valley just one last time.

 

The hotel was a great choice as it offered a little bit of the

rustic, mixed with colonial luxury. Each room was an out-building:

small grass roofed huts with teepee shaped roofs. The grounds were

spread out with large, manicured lawns and well-maintained landscape

featuring large trees, painstakingly trimmed lawns and rows of

flowers. As it grew dark, the lights in the pool turned on and you

could walk out to the back of the hotel to catch one last view of the

expanse of the valley far below. Not a car passed on this secluded

road as we sat out and enjoyed “sundowners” on the front porch.

 

Our next day was our longest of the trip. We were headed for the

Baviaanskloof Wilderness Area: a World Heritage Sight and best known

for being one of the most remote and wild parts of South Africa. Among

the local motorcyclists, it is known as one of the top adventure rides

in the country. There is no wonder why BMW chose this road to launch

their new BMW 1200GS a couple of years back!

We started our trip with some complication: Steve had turned sick,

and had to load his bike on the trailer. There had been a virus or

something working through the group, much like an Agatha Christy

Novel, with one person from the tour a day falling ill at the end of

each day. Now it was Steve’s turn, and his face had lost color and his

smile had faded. In ten years of leading tours, I had never seen such

a sickness work its way around a group, and it was painful to see it

happen to such a bright light as Steve.

We gassed up in the small town of Uitenhage and looking at Steve,

Neels realized there was no way we could take him into such a remote

area like the Baviaanskloof, so we had no option but to drop him at a

local hospital.

 

 

The group carried on, hoping to catch up with him in a day or so.

We entered the Baviaanskloof by riding through a region thick with

citrus trees on all sides. The smell of Citrus was in the air as we

passed tractors, farm workers and trucks laden with fruit, bound for

market. The temperature was much more tolerable as we hit the dirt and

started into the “Baviaans”.

The road through the Baviaanskloof is not for riders new to dirt.

There are over 20 stream crossings and several steep rocky sections

of on-the-pegs riding. There were several passes that we crossed which

had terrific scenery, but you had to stop and look, because if you

lost concentration while riding, the long drop off the edge of the

road with no safety railing would change your day.

When we distanced ourselves from any houses or farms, the air

seemed to get cleaner and the beauty of the surrounding mountains

seemed to be enhanced. When you stopped your engine, you could hear

absolutely nothing but the playful song of birds. The road was steep

in sections, so you had to really gas it and pick a good line to find

a way through. At times, the forest encroached the road from all sides

barely offering passage the width of one vehicle.

At the bottom of the valleys, there were always a series of light

stream crossing, with water only up to 6 inches in depth. Throughout

the day we forded these dinky streams. Only one of them offered a

challenge, being deeper than a foot. Often times, you would look up

and see monkeys and antelope scatter from the road. This was truly a

wild place! Thorns from trees reached out across the road often, so

the riders were constantly ducking and dodging and they throttled

along.

I came around a corner to see John waiting in the middle of the

road. His bike’s engine had made an unnatural sound, as if slamming

into first gear, then quit. We tried to get it started, but with no

success. Though the support truck was sweeping behind us, Jeff and I

decided to try towing it with a tow strap until they caught up. We

managed to go along quite well, and even crossed one steep pass until

we came upon John headed the other way.

It had been raining softly throughout the day, with some dark

clouds looming on the horizon. John said that the river crossing ahead

was completely flooded, and that the water level was rising fast. We

learned later that the clouds ahead had deposited over 1 inch of rain

that afternoon, creating a flash flood headed our way. John said that

David tried to cross the river, but was almost pulled into the

current. Trees and bushes were being swept down in the rising, muddy

torrent. The group rode to the edge of the river and had to back up,

as the water started to flow right down the road! We suddenly realized

our situation: we needed to get out of here, or spend the night out.

It was growing dark, and the idea of staying out for the night, caught

in the African bush, seemed to be turning into a reality. The thought

of going back over the precipitous mountain passes in the dark was

also daunting.

After the first satellite phone call to the lodge in which we would

be staying, and a mix-up of our location, we were told that the lodge

could do nothing for us, and that a flood like this could take several

days before it would subside! After this bit of news, we decided to

head back, perhaps to leave the bikes in the bush and continue in the

back of the support truck to the nearest town, over a 100kms away. As

we rounded our first corner, my heart fell as the shallow stream we

had crossed just minutes before had turned into a raging torrent. Now

we were boxed in, with few alternatives.

We phoned the lodge again and gave them our GPS coordinates, and

found out that we were not where they thought we were, and that they

could send a couple of trucks to fetch us. Needless to say, the group

was very relieved to hear the news, as some of us had started to

gather fire wood while others were ravenously eyeing Pat’s hunk of

cheese and box of crackers….

As a group, we went to the edge of the river closest to the lodge.

While we were trying to make our escape in the opposite direction, a

truck had tried to cross the river that had thwarted Dave. The scene

was dismal for the helpless couple: their truck was almost completely

submerged, and they were frantically trying to salvage what they could

before it was swept away.

As fast as the river had swelled to flood stage, it had subsided.

We could set the kickstands down where minutes before had been rising

water. Darkness fell on us as we passed the time by trying to start

fires. For a while, John and Jeff had a competition of who could start

the first fire with the wet tinder wood. Though Jeff was using

gasoline to aid his, it was John that had the most success, ironically

when he left it and walked away!

 

 

Headlamps, lighters, satellite phones and GPS units were the tools

we used to help us save the day. Spirits were high in the group as we

joked around watching the dueling fires competition.

After a couple of hours, headlights pierced the darkness and the

relieving sound of truck engines could be heard. Our spirits were

raised. Our cavalry had come! The owner of the lodge had brought two

trucks, tow straps and men to help all of us, including the stranded

couple. Unfortunately, because of the water damage, the couples’

submerged truck would never be the same.

The water was still too high to cross with the truck, so we left

our bikes, stuffed our helmets and riding gear into the stranded

support truck and hauled the rest of our belongings on our shoulders

across the waist-deep river. Patty enjoyed the crossing on the

shoulders of Neels.

When we were nestled in the lodge owners’ truck and heading to the

lodge I thanked the stars above for this fortunate turn of unfortunate

events. The night out in the African bush would have been doable but

very uncomfortable. Teas, the owner of the lodge, informed us that we

had indeed been very unlucky. It only rains in this area on average of

10 inches a year and it just happened to be that day that over an inch

had fallen! He also said that it would have been best not to spend the

night out, because Black Rhinos had been introduced to the valley, and

they were very aggressive.

Considering the timing of the rainfall and our progress along the

Baviaanskloof, we agreed that if we had been an hour earlier, we

would have completely missed the flash flood.

Teas took us to his remote lodge and deposited each of us at our

separate “rooms”, which were stand alone outbuildings made of rock.

The rooms were exquisite: hard wood floors, ample deck space, and

large, comfortable beds. Four star accommodations instead of sleeping

under a truck! We all gathered at the nearby lodge that evening and

enjoyed a first-class dinner with our hosts Teas and Alice. We enjoyed

gratin potatoes, fresh salad and Karoo Lamb. An “on your honor” bar

was set out and after a few minutes, relieved laughter and excited

conversation took over the room. This was so much better than fighting

for a hunk of cheese in the dark!

 

The next day, the song of birds and sunrise woke me. I looked out the

windows and was in shock. What was a complete sheet of black the night

before turned out to be a pristine view over a steep arid gorge. I

walked out onto the deck and peered down over the railing far below. I

listened to the birds singing. Then, I enjoyed the outdoor shower with

the same view. I wondered secretly whether last night happened or not.

I made my way to lodge and saw in the faces of the rest of the

group that I was not alone. The lodge had a grand deck looking out

over a similar untouched wilderness scene. A pool was sunk into the

deck and there was a fire pit for cook-outs. This was a place for

relaxation, hiking and generally taking it easy.

Breakfast consisted of fresh fruit salad, yogurt, quiche, bacon,

baked tomatoes and eggs prepared to your liking. Everything was

excellent!

Our first goal was to retrieve the stranded bikes. The original

itinerary dictated that we were to have another long day of gravel

riding. But considering the long night and the fact that road could be

tougher because of rainfall, we decided as a group to stay an extra

day in the Baviaanskloof. The safest action was rest, relax, and

reload for the next days’ ride.

 

Teas had us all jump into the back of his Toyota Land Cruiser and

we sped down the dirt road. This time, we had the pleasure of taking

in the surrounding landscape with detail. The valley was full of

smaller “kloofs” or gorges, which fed the main valley. All of them

were cut out right out of the rock and were very narrow with walls

hundreds of feet high. Some of them trailed back into the mountains

for kilometers. Some of them had waterfalls cascading down them.

Every once in a while, thorny branches stretched out over the road,

causing us to duck, as we were standing in the bed of the truck.

Again, a reminder that you must always be on your guard in Africa!

We retrieved our bikes without incident. The river that was a

chocolate raging bull the night before was just a trickle (Hershy’s

Kiss), and hardly recognizable. We waved at the locals as we rode back

to the lodge.

That afternoon, Teas had prepared some activities for us. He took

us all on a mini safari on his private game preserve. Though we did

not see any animals, the scenery was spectacular. A forest of Aloe

strewn over rocky landscape met mountains that loomed into the clouds.

The air was clean and reminded me of Alaska. He showed us a small cave

on his land where a bushman perhaps a thousand years ago had made a

drawing. He told us of Leopards living deep inside the mountains.

After the tour, he said that he had a surprise, and mentioned that

he would be taking us to the oldest church in the valley.

As it grew dark, he took us to a tall shallow cave near the lodge

where his staff had prepared a feast. The scene was dreamy: lanterns

were set out along the shallow cave, a fire was roaring in fire pit, a

table was set elegantly waiting, and a full bar was sitting idle with

any type of beverage imaginable. The light for the fire danced off the

tall overhanging rock. The sound of the stream resounded in the narrow

gorge. On all sides, rock walls climbed into the night sky. There was

not a breath of air. The temperature was refreshing: neither hot nor

cold. Teas showed us a quartz vein and petrogliphs in the cave while

we enjoyed cocktails. Idle chatter intermixed with quiet fulfillment.

The fire crackled. This was a place that you dreamed about.

Considering our adventure the night before, this night was out of a

dream. I don’t think anyone with ever forget this night in Africa!

 

The next morning, the sunrise peaked in the window and it was

time to get up. The scene was even better out the front window due to

the hues of the light. We gathered our gear and prepared for the

ride.

The rest of the Baviaanskloof ride was spectacular but not technical.

The road wound through a shallow canyon. The color of the rock walls

was a bright rusty red. We had several shallow streams to cross and if

you kept your eye out, you could see monkeys in the trees or antelope

feeding off to the side of the road. Soon, we were on the last open

straight stretch at the end of the Baviaanskloof. It was then that you

could let up your guard, and perhaps that is why it happened.

Bill hit a patch of mud which, when he corrected, sent him flying

from the bike at speed of 100 km. per hour. The bike went one way, and

luckily he, the other. The bike flipped from one side to the other and

finally went end over end before it came sliding to a stop. Bill did

about the same, and came to a stop after sliding for 50 feet on the

gravel. He laid there for a few minutes, wondering if he was badly

hurt. After a spell, he stood up and walked around. Feeling his body

all around for any injuries, he could only find that he had a slight

groin muscle strain, a strained muscle above his ribs and some bruises

and raspberries where his elbows and knees met with the pads in his

riding gear. He had been wearing a Darien Light jacket and pants, and

it had taken the impact for him. He was the first to say that it was

the gear that saved him from grave injury. “There is no substitute for

this gear!”, he exclaimed.

The group spent some time collecting broken BMW parts and strapping

the extra bike on the trailer. Bill limped around and laughed at his

luck. I went to look at the marks in the mud and the overall road

situation to see what could have caused this accident. I came to the

conclusion that there was nothing out of the ordinary about the road.

Bill had just lapsed in concentration for just a second for relief of

clearing the Baviaanskloof.

We gassed up in the small town of Willowmore and decided that instead

of eating a proper lunch (which takes at least an hour in South

Africa) we would do the old standing-in-the-parking-lot-and-eating

biker trick.

We headed west through a desert landscape. The paved road was

incredibly straight with desert scenery stretching out in all

directions. On the horizon loomed several patches of heavy rain. We

stopped at one point to put on rain gear and headed into a canyon with

the rain starting. I thought for a moment that we should pass up a

canyon side ride to try to avoid the rain, but I am glad we didn’t.

What followed was one of most spectacular gorge rides of the trip, and

in my life. The paved road was perfectly banked and in great

condition. It incorporated a series of low pontoon-like bridges which

crossed a slow moving gin-clear stream. The stream bed consisted of

large white-washed boulders. On both sides of the road towered a

rust-colored cathedral of rock. The rock was defined by layers and

reminded me of a large wafer. To the left and right I looked up

hundreds, perhaps a thousand feet to the top of the ridges. Vibrant

white clouds whisked by, superimposed on a bright blue sky. At the

end of the gorge I stopped. John pulled up and pronounced, “This is so

beautiful, it belongs in America!”

We rode it one more time, and continued west once again. Desert

rocks erupted from the ground to our right. I looked at one, and it

reminded me of a large chunk of wood with giant wormholes in it. We

pulled into Oudtshoorn, gassed up and took a ten minute break. I

remembered that it was just a week ago that we had lunched here, in

the unbearable heat. This time, it was warm and pleasant. The weather

here is hard to plan for. As long as you are ready for 40F to 100F

degree weather, you will be ready for what South Africa throws at you!

Our last ride of the day started with wineries and Ostrich farms

until all civilization dropped away. The road turned to a single lane

dirt track and steadily climbed into the mountains. The wind brought a

chill with it, for the first time of the entire tour. Sweeping views

of sharp ridges of hills layered into the distance before us. The

threat of rain never seemed to deliver the goods. We could see

dramatic rays of sunlight puncture the dark clouds before us,

presenting a surreal vision of a road to the heavens. The dirt road

descended into a series of small valleys, and at some points you could

see it far off into the distance, rolling on. Still, the rays of light

reminded you of some kind of fairy tale or a Promised Land. We turned

onto the road of our goal that night: a game farm in this remote

country.

 

The spur road into the game farm was over a couple of kilometers

long, and led us through a narrow draw to the top of a hillock. The

lodge and grass-roofed out-buildings were very comfortable and modern.

Two small ponds surrounded by well-manicured lawns offered the guests

the opportunity to see the local game come in for a drink. The main

lodge was had a bit of the rustic and modern feel to it, with a full

bar and a dining area. You could watch Spring Buck and Eland grazing

while you sat on the porch of your bungalow.

 

The main venue for the next day was a familiarization drive around

the game farm. Since it was scheduled for the afternoon, we offered

everyone the opportunity to ride around the area for couple of hours.

Only John took up the offer, and headed to the small town of

Calitzdorp with Jeff in search of antiques while the rest of the group

relaxed around the farm. There was a masseuse on the premises, so

some of the group enjoyed that after breakfast.

Three o’clock arrived, and we all loaded up in a Toyota Land

Cruiser and headed out into the preserve. We saw a variety of animals

including: Njala, Water Buck, Impala, Duiker, and Elands. We also

kept an eye out for the Giraffes that were said to be on the farm. The

guide, Nicki, took us up a steep series of switchbacks to the top of a

ridge. Baboons could be seen running across the hillside above us,

periodically stopping to look at us, before disappearing around the

ridge. Some of the corners of the switchback seemed impossible to

make, but the Land Cruiser somehow clawed through it all. As we

climbed, the views below turned from beautiful to magnificent. Hardly

a road or building could be seen throughout the vast landscape. A low

series of hills drifted away from us, framed in by a rugged mountain

range in distance.

The sun was out but put off just enough heat to keep us

comfortable. The fading sunlight along the mountains to our side mixed

with soft clouds and made the whole scene surreal once more. Again,

Africa was creeping into our blood.

We stopped at the crest of the mountain and climbed out of the

rig. The variety of plants and flowers was amazing. Fresh plant and

flower smells surrounded us as we looked out over the vast landscape.

Nicki dug out a cooler and offered us a drink of our choice.

After a while, we climbed back into the truck and headed over

another ridge. This time, the view superseded anything that we had

seen before: towering canyon walls fell away to a steep ravine far

below. The series of rock bands were profound and reminded me of the

Grand Canyon. This was also part of the property! At this point, the

sun was on its last minutes before slipping out of view, so we

continued down the mountain on a track that lead right to the lodge.

We could see the lodge buildings from high above. They were the only

buildings in sight in this remote country! After a few minutes, we

were back in camp. At one of the out-buildings, there was a barbeque

pit with a fire going….our group was going to get a treat this night!

Before dinner, we all gathered in the conference hall where they

had a projector and a large screen with tables and chairs. There, we

watched some of the video that I had been taking during the tour. We

all laughed and commented on how long it seemed since we started the

trip.

 

After the show, we headed to the barbeque and enjoyed Karoo Lamb,

salad and au gratin potatoes. Wine and laughter flowed throughout the

group. It was yet another great day in Africa.

 

Bill awoke with great pain in his chest and Neels examined him once

again. The bulge from his chest indicated a broken rib. So, after

breakfast, the group split into three: Bill would go to the nearest

hospital and see a doctor, Roger, David and I would ride Route 62, and

Jeff, John and Mark would ride the dirt roads to Montagu.

Route 62 is a two-laned paved highway which runs east-west through

the southern interior of the Western Cape. It is considered with

reverie, much like our Route 66, and is popular with bikers. The

highway runs through wine lands, sheep farms and desert landscapes and

is truly a delight.

On our way to Montagu, we stopped off at Ronny’s Sex Shop for a

drink and to pass time with Ronny. The whole idea of a “Sex Shop” was

a joke that Ronny’s friends played on him. Ronny ran a fruit

stand/cafe and while he was away on a trip, his friend painted the

word “sex” on his highway billboard, and so the story began. Ever

since then, Ronny kept the name, and has been greeting folks to his

little bar and shop. The building is in the middle of nowhere and does

not look like anything special until you walk inside. The walls are

covered with signatures and memorabilia left from years of visitors.

Ronny is one of the ageless characters that has found his niche.

We ordered something to drink and walked around the place. I

noticed a chess board set up on the main table and asked him if he

played. He did, but went on to say that a guy came in the day before

and said that you could place 8 queens on the board without one taking

the other. Ronnie didn’t know the solution, so we poured over the

chessboard for some minutes until he exclaimed, “Hah!” and put the

last queen on the board and solved the problem. He then went away

laughing saying that that had made his day.

He went on to pour himself a beer and serve others. Ronnie had a good life.

The rest of the ride into Montagu was easy living. The two-laned

R62 cruised by small wine-making towns, over mild passes and gave us

terrific vistas of wine lands framed by rugged mountains. The weather

was perfect. We pulled into Montagu and I admired that there were

vineyards even to the downtown area! It was an extremely small town

and very Afrikaans, with many of the shops displaying their trade in

that unique language.

Everyone in South Africa speaks it, and almost everyone is bilingual,

English being the language of commerce. Often times, when South

Africans meet, it will be in the language of English, but if they can

tell your Afrikaans accent, they will switch to Afrikaans. In some of

the smaller towns, the elders only speak Afrikaans. Add the 70 some

odd tribal languages that are alive in South Africa, and you have an

entire society that is at least bilingual. Both Afrikaans and English

are obligatory in school.

Did I mention that Steve, caught up with us? After two days of

hospitalization, he finally was well enough to be discharged. He

caught a flight to Cape Town, received another bike, and met us on the

rode. He actually walked in to see us at Ronny’s.

The rest of the group took a dirt course that entered Montagu from the

north. When they caught up to us at the hotel, they said they all

enjoyed the scenery and the ride.

 

The next day, we headed for the wine town of Franchhoek. We

continued down the Route 62. On the way out of town, we checked out a

small fort built by the British, which was located in a narrow canyon

above a tunnel. Steve said that it was built during the Boer war, and

was used to control access through the canyon. After the town of

Roberson, we split up in a couple of groups. Those that wanted to ride

a little more dirt followed Mark on a back road route through some

terrific country. With a back drop of mountains, vineyards, dairies

and pastures of horses flew by. Locals waved at us. Classic Dutch

Architecture dominated the old farm houses. Some of the farms had been

around over a 170 years.

We finished the day with a lovely winding pass road which

descended through pine trees into Franchhoek from the south. The town

was buzzing with activity, as it was Saturday. I could have closed my

eyes and imagined the exact scene in California wine country.

Everything, that is, except the dominating mountains in all

directions.

That night, we stayed at a 5 star Colonial Hotel on the outskirts

of the town. Everything was first class: chocolates on the pillow,

complementary aperitifs set out for the guests, a spa, an excellent

restaurant, a bar and a couple of pools. David was stunned to find out

he had two levels to his room, both with balconies overlooking

vineyards. It was truly a treat to have our last day on the road end

at such a high standard of accommodations!

 

 

We were suddenly to our last day on the road and it was hard to

believe that such a journey could come to an end so soon. Yet, looking

back at all the adventures, it seems almost years ago when the riders

all arrived in Cape Town for the first time.

We had an easy ride into Cape Town and Steve took a leisurely

course through the mountains and a brief side-trip through

Stellenbosch, a lively little University and wine town. We ended the

day early as some of the riders wanted one last chance to look over

Cape Town and stroll along the waterfront. The sun was out and the

temperature, again, ranged in the mid-eighties. Table Mountain greeted

us like an old friend. It was strange to muscle with the traffic, as

we had not seen any for almost the entire time on the road. No more

baboons and antelopes scattering in front of us!

We checked into our rooms, took to our separate ways for the

afternoon and caught up with each other at a charming African

restaurant for our farewell dinner that evening.

The trip was a grand success, and after talking to the riders and

hearing what they had to say, I would like to share some of their

comments.

 

 

Firstly, South Africa was not the scary continent that they

thought it would be. At no time did anyone fell threatened. In fact,

they found the hospitality and openness of the locals to be heartfelt.

The landscape and scenery surpassed anything that they imagined.

Some of the participants thought that the coast of South Africa was as

beautiful as any they had ever seen.

The riding was by far the best part of the trip. The comment that

was most used was “variety”. It was possible to ride along the coast,

through mountain passes into desert by way of paved or dirt roads. In

other words, it was possible to ride the world in a day. Add to that

the emptiness of the roads and you have one of the primier riding

destinations in the world!

The highlight for everyone was the Baviaankloof. To my knowledge,

the Baviaanskloof is a unique feature of this tour. It was a place of

breathtaking scenery, rugged riding and exceptional adventure. Our

time there will never be forgotten by the group.

One of the best features of this tour was the staff. Having local

staff and a paramedic ready at hand gave the riders a peace of mind as

well as the ability to learn about a culture past the surface layer.

Steve and Neels did a terrific job, and plan to be on staff for this

tour next year.

Another feature of this tour that the riders enjoyed were all the

options available to all of the participants each day, whether they

were riding or not. Our day-to-day itinerary was not long, but the

options for riding longer loops and exploring a variety of roads

outside the written itinerary gave each rider the opportunity to ride

as long and as far as they wanted each day. One day, the itinerary

read 240 kms for the day, and we rode for just under 400!