The Road to Nelspruit and Swaziland…

The road to Nelspruit passed by in what seemed like minutes. My mind was fully occupied with the memories of the many times I had ridden home down this same road. The closer I got to what I used to call “home”, the more the memories flooded back… I thought of the three homes we had lived in; the gardens we had worked so hard in, and where our children had had so much fun in, our dogs, and the long walks we used to take them on… All bitter-sweet memories that had me smiling to myself at times, and chocked up at others… I passed by the new stadium built for the World Cup, and marveled at the changes that were being made to the system of roadways around Nelspruit. A massive new mall was under construction alongside the N4… How many more could this area handle, I wondered…!

I sat at the first major intersection on the crossroads to White River, Barberton and Maputo, and looked up towards the hills that surround the town… I saw the water reservoir above our old house, and the radio masts that held the huge cross that was lit up at night, and could be seen for miles around… I decided to take a last look at the house before I left, and rode up into the cul-de-sac  in Liberty Street where it stood… I sat the bike in the road outside, my eyes running over the walls that I had built, the gate that my father and I had installed, and the flowers and shrubs we had planted. I realized that this house on the hill represented both my successes and my failures…. It was what I had worked towards for so many years, and yet was also the place where my marriage had floundered…

I think it is important to revisit places that were once important to you, if anything, to remind yourself where you once came from and where you are now; who you once were, and who you have become… And despite the pain this caused me, I managed to look past that, and remembered the great times we had in that big house, and the pride I once felt whilst living there…

I rode back down the hill, and out to the Riverside Mall, where I had arranged to meet with two of my dearest and closest friends, Jenny More and Charlotte Barnard, and over coffee and sandwiches, we discussed my plans for the trip. As always, we laughed a lot, poking fun at each other as we had always done… People like these make you realize how important friends are in your life… Thanks for everything, Girls…

Charlotte and Jenny...

We went out to where I had parked the bike and press-ganged a passerby to take photos of us. After a fond farewell,  I headed due south for Barberton, along the newly tarred road out of Nelspruit. The twisting section of road down into the Barberton Valley was exhilarating in parts and downright scary in others, with hairpin bends and a few wicked corners thrown in to keep your mind fully focused…

I refueled just outside Barberton, noticing while I did so, that the clouds were building up over the Lebombo Mountains which separated South Africa from Swaziland. I had heard that the road had now been tarred all the way to the Josefsdal Border post, and remembering what a scenic route this was, I wanted to enter Swaziland through this seldom used road. It’s like entering Swaziland through a “back door”… The officials are relaxed, and often seem only too happy to see visitors, a far cry from the larger and busier entry points in other parts of the country. I was glad that I had chosen this route, and despite the cold and windy conditions I encountered the higher up I got, the views were well worth it.

Refuelled and ready for the climb up to Bulembu...

In the mountains above Barberton...

The formalities at the border were dispensed with in no time at all, and after letting some air

Nearly there 1 The Swaziland Border...

The Gypsy Biker has left the country....

out of the tyres, I set off to do battle with the 18 kms of infamous “Bulembu Road”… This stretch of gravel is notorious for having claimed both lives and vehicles, and in the wet, it not to be taken lightly… It winds it’s way through plantations of Pine and Eucalyptus, hugging ridges and skirting mountain tops, all the way into the town of Pigg’s Peak. Soon after I set off, I realized that I had not let enough air out of the tyres, but seeing that I had settled into a nice rhythm on the dirt, I decided not to stop, and pushed on, enduring a few “squirrelly” moments, (and once overshooting a corner and flirting with the shrubbery on the edge of a sphincter-tightening drop- off), but making it safely into Pigg’s Peak.

The town of Pigg's Peak lies draped across the hills to the East of Bulembu and the South African border...

Shaken and stirred...but safely down into the Swaziland Plantation sawmill...

Guy More had arranged a “Sending off” for me, and had invited all the folk who knew me, to a dinner at the Pine Valley Golf Clubhouse, situated on the farm Swaziland Plantations. I had lived and worked on this farm since 1988, spent half my life here in fact, and still regarded it as a “home” of sorts… Together with the many people who attended, I spent a very pleasant evening, reminiscing about old times, discussing my trip and pointing out the various additions I had made to the Big Fella in preparation for my journey.

Shortly after dark, the rain which had threatened for most of the afternoon, began falling, and I decided not to risk riding the heavily laden bike up the steep road to Guy’s house in the dark (and with a few whiskies under my belt!) but rather to leave it in the parking area of the club for the night. The Big Fella has to get used to this sort of treatment after all, although I don’t think he was expecting to endure a cold and wet night out, this soon on the trip !!

Big Fella wakes to a cold and misty morning.

The rain fell throughout the night, and I awoke to a wet and misty morning, wondering if I should kit up and make the ride to Lesotho, or wait for the weather to change… I had intended visiting an old friend on the Natal north coast today, before heading up to Lesotho, but that plan came to unstuck, as Roy  had been summoned to his HQ in Johannesburg, and would not be at home. I resolved to spend the day catching up on my website and planning a new route for tomorrow, which would take me through Mpumalanga, across northern Natal and into the Free State to Clarens.

© GBWT 2010