Due North, to Springbok…

Last night while updating the site, I sat pondering the next few weeks ahead of me… Until I meet up with Peter and Carol in Malawi, I will be on my own out there, and I needed to get my head around that… Tomorrow will more than likely be my last day in South Africa for a long time to come… I thought about my family and the friends I would not see again until 2013, and despite the fact that I have been planning this for a long time and believed I had prepared myself for it, I now know that until it actually happens, you are never REALLY prepared… I will miss you all, and although communication with me will be very sporadic, and dependant on whether or not I can get onto the net or not, know that you will all be in my thoughts…

Shevaughn and John Mulder went out of their way to make my stay as comfortable as possible... Thanks Guys !!

Shevaughn had taken her daughter and a friend to see Kelly Clarkson, who was performing at the Grand West Casino, and John had volunteered to look after their youngest daughter Samara. While they watched TV, I got my stuff (or “shnizzle” as Shevaughn likes to call a big pile of “stuff”) sorted and ready for an early departure. By 10.30pm, I was “man down”…

Miss Samara Mulder... took a shine to the Big Fella...

By 6.00am this morning, I was ready to ride, but first John insisted on making me a few ham and cheese rolls for the road… While he bustled about, I made us coffee and then after all the goodbyes were said and done, rolled out of Big Bay, Melkbosstrand, and headed for the highway… I had enjoyed the short time I had spent with the Mulders, and promised to make their home my first stop when I flew back into Cape Town on my return to South Africa….

I stopped a few kilometres up the west coast highway, and turned to look back at Table Mountain… The sun was just beginning to highlight the top of it and I hopped off the bike, crossed the busy road and took a few snaps… I rode north up the R27 towards Velddrif, wondering if I should hook up with the N7 at Piketberg, or cut cross country earlier… Bearing in mind that the wind had not yet risen to continue with it’s torment of me, I decided to get away from the coast and headed down the R315 to Darling…

Early morning on the West Coast Highway...the Big Fella pointing due north for the long run to Springbok, and Cape Town's Iconic landmark in the background...

Entrance to a sleepy Darling...

Darling slumbered peacefully as we rolled into town, only a handful of people out on the streets… We tip-toed down the main drag, hoping not to wake her… This is the home of Pieter Dirk-Uys, or Evita Bezuidenhout, depending on which side of the bed he gets up on….

Just in case you needed directions....

A huge sign near one of the intersections, showed the way to his house, and I (very) briefly considered dropping in for coffee… But the sound of the open road calling, was there on the wind (if you listened carefully enough…) and we left town as quietly as we had entered it, heading towards Malmsebury on the N7. The road wound through picturesque vineyards and sheep farms, the bright light of the rising sun that I was riding directly into, casting long shadows over the road and making collisions with the occasional small pothole, inevitable… As I turned onto the highway north, a sign on the side of the road left me in no doubt that it was going to be a longish day in the saddle….

A long day lay ahead... The sign just outside Malmesbury...

We were quickly into a comfortable rhythm, the Big Fella purring underneath me, the throttle rocker set to 130 km/h… We began eating up the miles…

Just outside Cirtrusdal, little traffic, and a chance to do some high speed cornering... Whoo-hoo..!!!!

I recalled the last time I had bombed up this highway, on the 31st of December 2007, running hot and hard to get to Kakamas and the farm of Stoffel and Marlie Fritz, where we celebrated New’s Year Eve with a fire works display over the Orange River…

I picked up the revs as we entered Piekenierskloof Pass, where the Swartruggens Mountains form a bowl around the N7, forcing the highway up and over this twisting section of mountain road… I remembered that there were very few “hairy” corners on it, so I gave the Big Fella his head and we galloped up and over it, and down into the Cedarberg Valley on the other side…

At the turnoff to Citrusdal, I stopped to consider my refueling options… My Fuel Management System advised that I had 54 kms left in the tank, and the road sign ahead said “Clanwilliam 54kms” !!! I decided to “live a little” and took a chance that I would get to Clanwilliam on the fuel I had left… With a little luck, I would make it from there all the way to Springbok…

Algeria !! So soon !! That wasn't so bad...!! Now for Morocco..... Not !! A sign on the road to Clanwilliam...

We got into Clanwilliam with 3 kms to spare, and the Big Fella enjoyed his favourite tipple, guzzling 21,4 litres of Creme Soda, while I chugged down a litre of Orange Juice… It was a little after 8.30am, and the day promised to be a hot one… I met up with three bikers while I refueled; one riding a Suzuki V-Strom, who was on his way down to Cape Town and up the Garden Route, and then home to Reitz in the Eastern Free State; of the other two guys, one was on a BMW 1150 GS, and the other, a identical twin to the Big Fella, a silver 1200 GS 2007 model… They were on their way back to Cape Town, one of them having ridden the Argus Cycle Race ( silly fellow…, and I told him so….his mate agreed wholeheartedly with me…!) and had decided to do a quick tour of the Northern Cape… A friend of theirs had joined them, hiring an old BMW bike and sidecar, of Second World War vintage, which had had repeated breakdowns over the last few days… These two guys had a good old grumble about their mate, and had sent him on ahead (hoping, no doubt, that he would take a wrong turn somewhere, and disappear from their lives for good !!) I had passed this same sidecar about 50kms before Clanwilliam, and saw the rider holding on to his kit in the side car with his left hand, a wild-eyed look on his face, as the traffic built up behind him…. “Rather you than me, Buddy !” I thought as I whizzed by… After about a half hour of chatting, we parted with a final wave as they headed south, and I peeled back onto the N7, heading ever north…

I had an anxious moment just outside Trawal, when a troop of Baboons scurried out of a vineyard on my left and dashed across the road in front of me… The highway runs alongside the Olifants river for mile after mile, fruit farms are irrigated by it’s waters. The Olifants River Irrigation Scheme, consisting of a series of dams on the river, is obviously a Godsend to the farmers here, who grow citrus, peaches and wheat… I wondered how much they lose to the troops of Baboon that frequent the mountains in the area…

The countryside got drier and drier as I headed north, most of the rivers had stopped flowing, and the vegetation got progressively lower the further north I rode… There was not a tree in sight of where I stood, and I could see for miles around me…

The sun beats down and the temperature under the roof reached 40 degrees... It was hot....!!

About 120 kms north of Clanwilliam, having passed Klaver and Vanryhnsdorp, I pulled over to get some water down my throat… It was that, or face dehydration, and the complications that this little malady can bring… I was near the banks of the Soutrivier, which ran strongly…. just kidding… Dry as a bone !! I sat in the shade of the little picnic hut and watched the thermometor I had with me, climb steadily until it settled on 40 degrees… Outside on the road, it climbed even higher to 42 degrees… The road ahead and behind shimmered in the heat haze, and I wondered how anything survived out here… But there was life… Pairs of Pied Crows sat on every other telephone pole, and a few Black Shouldered Kites hovered about, reducing the rodent population… The barren countryside stretched away into the distance, and those strange “fairy rings” littered the slopes of the hills across from the highway. I ate another of the rolls John had made and was once again thankful for the Mulder’s thoughtfulness… Your rolls hit the spot every time, John…!!

The day's ride was almost over. Garies was my last stop before the salvation of Springbok... And for those of you who have been there, I know how crazy THAT must sound !!

I knew that I would have to stop again for water, as an hour in this heat was enough to get your vision swimming and your head pounding. Springbok was 225 kms away, so I set my sights for Garies, and rode on… I passed Nuwerus ( Rest !!! Out here…!??! You gotta be kidding me, Dudes !!! ) and then Bitterfontein, which had absolutely nothing going for it, except that it seemed to be a shunting yard where huge slabs of granite were being hoisted onto rail-truck flatbeds for transporting down to Cape Town harbour…

Granite blocks are loaded onto rail trucks for export...Apart from that, nothing much seems to happen in Bitterfontein...

This is a harsh land, and the names of some of the places had me both laughing into my helmet, and feeling sorry for the buggers who must have settled here long ago, in the hope of scratching a living out this furnace… Names like “Moedverloor” (Lost the Will), “Misverstand” (Misunderstanding… I’ll bet !! I’d have shot the bugger who sold this place to me…!!) “Droehoek” (Dry Corner…they’re everywhere…get used to it!) “Klipfontein” (Stone Fountain…and you thought water was going to come out of it…??!!) “Soebatsfontein” (Begging Fountain… I’ll bet they did a lot of that at the fountain…) “Nikswater” (No water…SURPRISE !!!) “Leegkraal” (Empty Paddock… Yeah, the livestock must have buggered off when you couldn’t find water for them !!) “Spoegrivier” (Spitting River… what the livestock did with the water you DID manage to find… It tastes awful, Dudes… I tried some at Garies, and quickly went into the little shop to buy the bottled stuff…!!)… To those farmers who stayed and battled on…. Maximum respect….!!! (Crazy, Bastards…!!!)

I had earlier passed a place with the name “Douse-the-Glim”… Most intriguing… If anybody knows more about this place or the origins of the name, let me know… It lies about 100 kms north of Clanwilliam, on the eastern side of the N7…

After a “water stop” at Garies, where in reply to my question,

” So…what goes on here in Garies ?” the lady behind the counter at the little shop I stopped at said,

“Ag Meneer…, ons haal net asem…!!” (We just breathe…!) Yeah, well, in this heat, that will keep you alive, if nothing else will !!

I headed back out into the oven that is the Northern Cape, on the last leg of today’s ride. I passed Kammieskroon and Mesklip, and took the last 30 kms at top speed, confident now that my fuel would take me into Springbok… The road climbs up between rugged mountains just before the town and I remembered that this was the spot where Telo Steyn ran out of fuel, on our rode up here in 2007, and had to wait for his girlfriend to re-supply him… Hope you’re well Telo, flying your crop-sprayer up in Nylstroom…

I arrived at 3.00 pm having ridden through the heat of the day, but wanting some time to relax before getting sorted for Namibia… This was the last stop before the crossing, and I wanted to be sure that the route I had chosen to get to Klein-Aus, via Rosh Pinah, was the right one… I needed some local knowledge for that…

My digs at the Springbok Lodge, an old converted shop, comfortable enough, and right near the centre of town... Most importantly, only 200 metres from the KFC...!!!

I settled into my room at the Springbok Lodge, after avoiding another B&B rip-off artist, who wanted R500.00 a night… “There isn’t a World Cup match within 500 kms of here, Lady !! Get real…!!!” The Springbok Lodge has converted various buildings in the street behind it, into cheap accommodation, and each old building has retained it’s original name. I am in Die Stoor (The Storeroom) which was once a shop of some kind… The Big Fella is parked right outside my window, between two shady trees !! I kid you not.. Shady trees in Springbok…go figure !!

After a hot shower (and that was using the cold tap !) I wandered about town, looking for info regarding the route into Namibia, and to try and find out if my Vodafone Modem would work across the border… No dice !! I would be losing the data bundle I had loaded onto it only a few days ago… The girl in the Biltong shop (yeah, I know, a strange combination,  Biltong and Cell Phone Sales…) consoled me with a piece of Kudu Biltong, which I chewed on as I watched the folk walk around in a heat induced stupor…

Did I mention it was hot up here…??

© GBWT 2010