The Road to Port Elizabeth…

(675 kms)

S 33° 56’ 51” – E 25° 29’ 67”

I was awake at 5.00am, moved the bike out onto the lawn, where I could begin loading the panniers, and then took a few photos of the Lodge. Apart from a pack of dogs, there was nobody about… Not surprising really, considering the time the poker game finally ended, and the amount of alcohol drunk and weed smoked. Judging by the state of the kitchen, a medium sized hurricane had made its way through there at some stage during the previous evening… Dirty dishes littered every surface… Diphtheria lurked in every corner…

While Stewart dozed, I began lugging my gear out to the bike and tying everything down. Light drizzle accompanied me whilst I was doing this and I briefly considered whether or not I should kit up with my rain suit or not. I finally packed it away and decided to chance it… I left the lodge at 8.15am, having said my goodbyes to Stewart and Luke, and promising to visit Stewart’s pub, “The Overdraft” in Macgregor on my future travels…

Leaving “Wild” Port St Johns…

By the time I reached Mthatha, 90 kms away, it had started to drizzle again. I made it across town and through hectic traffic, to the Sasol garage on the R61 leading to Queenstown. Having refueled, I got into my rain gear, ate a pie and chugged an Energade, and then motored out along the R61, light rain welcoming me back onto the road… “This next bit was going to be interesting…” I remember muttering to myself… And it was, too!!

The rain in Mthatha falls mostly when I ride…

I had hoped that the weather would improve once I was out on the open road, but as it turned out, this would be the most difficult riding I had ever had to do on a bike… Just outside Mthatha the tempo of the rain increased, and I realized that it was going to be a tough day… Passing through All Saints Nek, I offered up a silent prayer that all the saints were indeed casting a benevolent eye over me….in these conditions, I was going to need all the help I could get…!

At Ngcobo, traffic was gridlocked…there was but one main street running through the town centre, and I stood in the same spot with the bike in neutral for more than five minutes, before deciding that in this case, valour would be the better part of discretion! I eased us into what was a solid flow of pedestrians, and in first gear, began driving through them. After what seemed like ages, and was probably about ten minutes, I had worked my way through to the far side of town, and was able to get up through the gears and leave Ngcobo in my wake…

Still it rained….

The road to Cofimvaba, wound its way through beautiful countryside, and with little traffic, I was able to pick up the pace during a brief break in the weather… This lasted for only a short while, before another burst of heavy rain forced me to slow down again. I stopped on a hill just above this little town, to send a sms and stretch my legs. Then it was on towards Queenstown.

About 20kms south of Queenstown, where the R61 meets it, I turned south onto the N6, and dismounted again to adjust my backpack. Whilst doing this, three riders on their BMW K1200T’s stopped to chat. They were on their way to East London, and after a short chat, we headed south for Cathcart where I knew I would have to refuel. They had filled up in Queenstown, and had enough fuel to get them to their destination on the coast… They waved to me as I turned off into the last service station on the edge of town, in what was still pouring rain… Having refueled, lit up a much needed cigarette and sent sms’s to Renske confirming my later arrival in Port Elizabeth. I sat contemplating my options. I could ride in the rain…or I could ride in the rain… Decisions, decisions… I could go south-east towards Stutterheim and East London along the N6, or through the “sticks”, south-west towards Fort Beaufort… The adventurer in me chose the latter….bad move!!

The R61 from Cofimvaba meets the N6 to East London

The R 351 which joins the R67 about 25kms from Cathcart takes you through the Amathole Mountains just west of Hogsback, and I would dearly like to ride this route again under a cloudless sky… The weather Gods had kept their worst for this section of my ride… By this time I could feel water inside my rain suit…! The rain had got in down the back of my neck, and in through my helmet, which I could not keep fully closed as it impeded my visibility beyond the point of safety. I decided there was no point in stopping, and after turning left onto the R67, prepared to negotiate the Nico Malan Pass… The road climbed steadily towards the cloud cover, and the higher I got, the colder and wetter it became. Soon I was riding through thick mist, driving rain, and to cap it all, I was buffeted by gusts of strong winds coming through the numerous valleys I rode through. Not pleasant! The road surface was quite good though and this took some of the stress out of my ride…

The strain of keeping the bike on the road, around hair-pin bends and steep curving descents, began to tell on my arms and neck. I found myself gripping too tightly going into some of the corners, and had to concentrate fiercely to stay on my lines… A few miscalculations took it’s toll on my nerves, and I started making a few silly mistakes, like touching the back brake going through a sharp bend, causing the back tyre to “step out” a few inches, which is all the invitation it needs to slip out from under you!! The road near the top of the pass had been repaired in places in the recent past, and the grip here was much less than I had enjoyed the previous few kilometers… More to think about!!!

Just then a road sign loomed out of the mist, which had me in gales of laughter, so much so, that I decided enough was enough, and pulled over to reset my brain. The sign in question warned of kudu’s leaping across the road with gay abandon…. I found this extremely funny, considering the conditions I was riding in… I now had to keep an eye out for a leaping kudu as well!!!! I took the following photograph while recovering my mental equilibrium, somewhere on the Nico Malan Pass…

Biker in the mist…Nico Malan Pass, Amathole Mountains

Finally, leaving the mist behind me, but taking a strong drizzle along for company, I buzzed through the hamlet of Seymour and on towards Fort Beaufort. By now, I could feel the cold creeping through my chest, as the result of the rain which had run down my neck. I rode through Fort Brown and on to Grahamstown, picking up speed on the long open sections, and slowing down to negotiate Ecca Pass, a short distance from where the R67 meets the N2.

By this time I was beginning to feel the effects of having to fight hard to keep the bike upright in the difficult conditions, especially through those long sections where the high winds had unsuccessfully tied to unseat me. My shoulders started to cramp up, and I was developing a stiff neck… I had planned to stop in Grahamstown for a short rest, but did not know that the N2 bypasses the town… Once I realized this, I decided to push through to Port Elizabeth. I had enough fuel to get me there, and was as wet as I was going to get anyway!

Still it rained…

I stopped at the junction of the N2 to do a few stretches to unwind. I stood for a few minutes taking deep breaths and cursing the weather… With a bad case of the mutters, I mounted the bike again and set off for the last run to Hendrik’s house…

First sign showing the day’s final destination….couldn’t come quick enough!!

On the N2, a westerly wind tried it’s best to keep me from getting to my destination. Rain lashed the highway, and in places I was hanging on for dear life! Most of the rivers I crossed over were flowing strongly… the Fish, the Sundays, the Swartkops….. I cruised past Tintelbos and Colchester, past Bluewater Bay, and the entrance to the new port of Coega, and finally into the outskirts of Port Elizabeth. I tried to call ahead to let Hendrik know that I was nearing the end of the day’s ride, but my GPS and my cell phone did not seem to be on speaking terms… Luckily I had punched in Hendrik’s address when I had stopped to refuel in Cathcart, and I now had to rely on the GPS for the first time on this trip, to take me to his house. I had never visited there before, and knew more about Katmandu, than I did about Port Elizabeth!!

I arrived at Hendrik’s house in the suburb of Kabega at a little after 5.00pm. I got off the bike, exhausted and relieved to have made it there without any major hassles. The bike handled very well in the wet, and I was now used to the weight and could manoeuvre the bike in tight situations without too much difficulty. With all my kit hanging in the garage to dry, I dragged myself toward the nearest bathroom and had a hot shower… I then settled down to enjoy the hospitality of the Verwey Family, whisky clasped in left hand, while my right administered small doses of nicotine to my frazzled nervous system…

It had been one heck of a day… To cap it off, I discovered that the water which had run down my neck, had somehow got through to the cell phone in my pocket, and this was why I could not make contact earlier. I dismantled the cell phone and with hairdryer in hand, and a prayer on my lips, sat and dried the innards of the Nokia… It had also damaged my Dictaphone, and a few of the documents I carried in a pouch on my tank bag. I had kept the three letters that Vanessa and the girls had written and left for me to find in Nelspruit… I had put them in the front pocket of my Bar Bag, and they were all but destroyed by the rain… This upset me more than the damage done to the cell phone…

After a light supper, we had a few more drinks and then, back aching and body crying for sleep, I said my “goodnights”, and headed for bed.

Christmas Day 2007

I got up early and surprised the parrot, which I was told would wake me up with his screeching. I tiptoed up to his cage and blew a mouthful of air at his back…. The bird gave a startled squawk, and then settled down to sulk for a few hours…. Visitors 1 Parrot 0….

Christmas Day was filled with a steady stream of visitors to impart their best wishes for the season. Hendrik, Renske and I attended an early church service in the NG Kerk just around the corner from the house. The church was filled to capacity. We had to sit in pews up on the “stage” The service was simple and over in about 40 minutes. I wore the only collared shirt that I had packed, and felt a bit out of place, what with all the congregants dressed in their Sunday best, as befitted the occasion…

The layout for Christmas lunch looked superb, and we all settled down to enjoy the meal. One individual ensured that he would not have to get up for seconds, by loading his plate with as much food as I had ever seen on any one plate before…clearly the man enjoyed his food!!!

Hendrik and I struggle with an un-cooperative Christmas cracker…

(Picture by Renske Verwey)

We spent the afternoon recovering from our endeavours at the lunch table, and later drove out to the beach for a walk. Not long after we arrived there, it began to drizzle, and not wanting the baby to get wet, we decided to head back to the car, and home… Despite the weather, the beach was crowded with people, some enjoying a braai near their cars, while others walked their dogs and flicked stones across the flat surface of the sea…

Throughout the late afternoon and early evening it drizzled, whilst inside, we continued to make a dent on what was left of Christmas lunch… Hendrik went to bed early, whilst Renske and I sat drinking coffee and shooting the breeze. By midnight, the exertions of the previous days ride, as well as my mighty efforts at the lunch table began to take their toll, and I rolled into bed and slept the sleep of the dead.

It had been a difficult day for me, as it was my first Christmas without my family, and I had throughout the day thought about Vanessa, Roxanne and Robyn, and wondered how their day had gone… Had they missed me? Did it matter whether they had or not…? Matter to me…? Matter to them…? Were they aware of how badly I had wanted to be with them today… Did that matter? What mattered? Who mattered?

There were just too many questions running through my mind, and I was sure the answers would not be found today…or any time soon…

Verwey Family Photo, Christmas Day 2007

(Picture by Renske Verwey)

© 2008 TBMH