This trip could be called many things: “Langebaan Toppies” but some newcomers have dropped the average age to about 50 (and raised the IQ to 50 as well) , “Sand ain’t bad” but some will tell you that it was not at all pleasant, or “The Trip of Attrition” because 7 bikes started out but only 2 made the full planned distance. But whatever it gets called it was FUN.

Ant on an XL650 is the main instigator of such trips. As an ex-MX racer from the days of twin rear shocks he also likes to be in front and HATES it if anyone is in front of him. (He hates it when his bike gets dirty). On previous trips he relied on a map and a really good memory but age has caught up with him and now he has a GPS. Now he is really confused and lost but still wants to ride in front.

Harry is also known as the Enforcer and on his DL1000 Be-Strong he does look imposing cruising down tracks that the designers did not intend the bike for. He man-handles that bike in the way most of us would a KX125 and when he gets the mutters everyone stands clear.

Grant with his DRZ400 is the Negotiator who makes all the arrangements. Maybe it is because of all the years he spent in Durban that he has a connection everywhere and will never accept the first price as being the one he is going to pay and finds some really interesting places to stay.

Greg was “allowed” to be there for a while but business called him back half way through and the GS800 had to shoot back down the N7 in a hurry. He took on the name Dusty during the trip.

Andy also on a (borrowed) DRZ400 is one of the new-comers to the topies and was a bit concerned after hearing all the worst (and exaggerated) stories about sand. By profession a dentist (and pilot) we put our trust in him for our medical care.

Jaco, also a new-comer to the topies, is an Airbus pilot and helped plan the route. He obviously did not realize that on the ground there are rocks and drop-offs – but more about that towards the end of the trip. His XL650 is more tricked out than his Airbus as he has access to Stateside shops a few times a month.

Ken, that’s me, known as Not the Navigator (NTN) because I always manage to get them lost. Also because I believe that you cannot get lost – you just get to a different destination. After a few trips on my DRZ400 it was the first long trip on my newly acquired XT660Z with a brand new set of Mitas E-07s.

Joining us in the back-up Landy were Jeremy (who has traveled with us before, and has traveled most 4x4 tracks in SA) and Tony, who came along to make sure we all behaved. Initially it was planned to travel without a trailer but Jeremy then got hold of a really rugged off-road trailer.

Now about the trailer. Initially we were supposed to carry all our own goods on our bikes and the Landy would be used for its fridges and to carry food as being a SWB it did not have much space anyway. But at some stage my comfort loving comrades saw that their luxuries and spare under-rods would not fit on their bikes so Jeremy’s off-road trailer was collected and stuffed with all they had. I must admit that I also used the trailer after the first day and only carried my bike and day stuff on the bike. It fitted perfectly in my Oxford tail-bag fitted on my Andy660 plate.

The planning for this trip started in January and after a bit of discussion it was decided to revisit the Richtersveld area but then to do a few of the other 4x4 tracks and passes on the way back down. Between Ant and Jaco they settled on a mix of tracks that took us to many places we had not been through before at a pace of roughly 250km a day. All was plotted for the Garmins with the help of Tracks4Africa and distributed to confuse the less technically adept. I’m quite happy to ride towards the back anyway so I just follow the leader.

LAST HUG FROM MARIEKS FOR 10 DAYS

On the given Friday at 08H55 I was at the meeting point 5 minutes early (for a change because it was close to home and I knew the way!!) and the Langebaan boys were nowhere in sight. I took a few pics of the Olive Chapel and checked that my luggage was really secure (for the 99^th time), but after 15 minutes I was forced to phone and was told that my “organized” companions were still packing the trailer with all their make-up. I thought they were just tied of my nonsense already so had left some other way.

WAITING IMPATIENTLY

Eventually they arrived about 45 minutes late but without Harry who had gone back to quickly fetch yet another pair of pants. We met him on the R27 and set off towards Velddrif. Just to start the dirt we took the dirt road down to the R399 and turned on the ore rail line service road and headed north, with the detour to get over the Berg River. It gets boring using that route so much to escape northwards but it is better than tar. 

The 2 navigators were at the front of the convoy but at Elands Bay the rest of us decided on a stop and checked out the surf while the leaders waited at the toll. Eventually they returned – just as we were about to set off again – poor timing. Somehow going onto the toll we paid for one too few bikes but they caught us at the other end for the missing R25. Then the first revolt occurred when Grant, Greg and the Landy took the front road into Lambert’s Bay while we took the “agreed’ route along the rail road. As agreed we stopped to turn into Lambert’s for lunch and waited for the absconders. Eventually Harry and Andy went back to the turn and saw their tracks so returned and we set off again.

My first sand fall happened here when I tried to get through a stupid 5m patch of sand too slowly and with the top heavy load (excuses, excuses) lay down in the sand at 5km/hr. With the beazt being fully loaded Ant and I battled to get it upright but my ego had taken a dent as the first to fall. I can ride sand on my DRZ without a problem but found the 660 front heavy and along the way discovered how much further back I had to put my weight to get through sand.

At lunch in Lamberts Bay the nonsense started (don’t look at me!) and every comment was twisted, taken out of context or suitably berated. Greg and Grant’s weak excuse for not following the honourable (?) leaders was not accepted and the first notes were made in the “fines book”.

LUNCH AT LAMBERT’S BAY

It is amazing that at every place there is a Burgemeester. That is the local drunk who walks as if doing the foxtrot, and is attracted to visitors like a fruit fly to a banana. After giving us the latest on the local politics and how to solve the problems of the country he wandered off discussing the future of the universe with the stones, a few bushes and a fence – all while battling to get his feet to behave.

It was then back to the rail road all the way to just outside Lutzville where we headed down to the Olifants River bridge and after at wait at the road-works we then hit tar to Vredendal.

Grant’s luxury accommodation in Vredendal was someone’s front lawn that they called a campsite. But the grass (lawn) was good, water was warm and plentiful, and there was shelter from the wind so the tents were quickly unpacked and erected. Except for Andy – somewhere along the line he wound up without a tent, and after a “you said”, “no, you said” discussion he laid his stuff out to sleep under the stars.

VREDENDAL CAMPING

Jaco then produced his box of tricks and I could immediately see why we needed such a big trailer, and wondered where he has stashed the generator. Out came the AppleMac, extension cord, multi-plugs, chargers, about 47,000 connector wires and a flight simulator. OK – so no flight simulator. The Go-Pro footage was downloaded, the tracks were uploaded, the orbit of the space station was realigned and all set for the following day.

It was here that I became the victim of a very subtle transfer of duties. Greg was the agreed chef and being a natural helpful type I started to assist him at the braai. Now not only am I “Not the Navigator” but my knowledge of cooking involves opening a can and grabbing a spoon, and I do not braai meat – I sacrifice it. However after about 5 minutes Greg starts praising my skill at placing jacket potatoes, and onions in the coals and suggests in what order I should cook the meat. Suddenly it is all cooked and served and everyone likes my cooking. ????What the hell happened???? I was suddenly promoted from Not the Navigator to Chef’s Apprentice, and we know what that means – he tells – I do. But at least it got me out of the washing up.

GREG ON CHEF DUTY (BRIEFLY)

These days most of us have graduated to the stage where we walk around at night with these LED lights strapped top our foreheads. But Ant has only just bought a GPS and has a hard time keeping up with technology. But he was not going to be left out and invented the Teale light.

ANT WITH HIS “HEADLIGHT”

After a good night’s rest (I never heard any snoring!) we packed up some very damp tents. Some more successfully than others, as the pop-out tents had the capacity to challenge Ant and Harry in folding them up amid much laughter and suggestions. Fortunately Grant had spent 3 full days practicing so he got it right quite easily.

Warmly wrapped we headed into Lutzville and filled up with gas, then off along the R363 and turned down to the coast. To me getting away from tar and rail roads is great and the trip had really started in my mind.

We got down to the coast without problems and then the newcomers to sandy twee-spoor riding discovered what fun is all about. Easy to say “Look ahead, stand up, weight back and open up” but not easy to do when the sand monster is trying to grab your wheel. Harry on the Be-Strong knows sand and just took off at 1000 km/hr scaring the hell out of the less experienced as he roared past them. I found the 660 a bit heavy but at about 80-90 klicks she settled and tracked well. Andy, Grant and Jaco underwent the steep learning curve that one can only learn by doing it and a few falls and off track excursions got us to the Soutrivier for breakfast. It was after a few stops on this track that the guys could not understand how stones got into the fingers of their gloves every time they took them off. (Don’t ask me I know nothing about it!!)

THANK GOODNESS THERE WERE A FEW HARD PATCHES

NEED A FEW PICTURES OF SAND HERE

Along here Grant’s DRZ started playing up after a fall by not idling and cutting out when he closed the throttle and he blamed it on bad fuel from Lutzville. I was worried as I filled from the same pump after him but the beazt was purring so we thought it must just be a bit of dirt in the carb (or Grant’s failing skills).

BRUNCH – AND A CHANCE TO TALK ABOUT SAND

After brunch at the mouth of the Soutriver the wisdom of deciding to turn inland to Kotzesrus was confirmed by those who had seen the video of the track the other side of Groenrivier, and experienced their first taste of sand. The road to Kotzesrus was in very good condition and the ride was good.

LOOKING FORWARD TO LOLLA’S 21st

KOTZESRUS SHOP

Except for the first puncture in Ant’s rear tyre, a spare that also leaked when fitted, and his dropping his bike off the center stand, the trip to Kotzesrus was uneventful. We headed towards Garies and then turned down through Wallekraal to get to the Hondeklipbaai road and then it was all gravel to a very misty Hondeklipbaai where we booked in at the Hondehok.

NO GPS – SO I FOLLOW MY TRIP THROUGH SIGNS

THE HOND OF HONDEHOK

The coldness of the West Coast mist was combated by Attie’s warm welcome and he again went out of his way to ensure that we were well settled in. I could not understand why my “buddies” with whom I have traveled before were so eager for new-comer Andy to share a room with me – after all I don’t snore because I have never heard myself snore.

One advantage of now being the Chef’s Apprentice is that hungry comrades are only to willing to keep the Windhoeks flowing, and the veges and meat were well cooked among many stories and much laughter. All the lights dimmed when Jaco fired up all his appliances and Andy joined Jaco with re-aligning the planets – must be a pilot thing! But I must admit being able to view the next day’s route in some detail was interesting, but useless to me as I promptly forgot it, and resolved to trust the leaders.

When I fueled and checking my bike I noticed that the radiator was clogged with fine sand in some patches and it did not wash out. Out of the depths of my brain I recalled spilling a bit of oil when doing the pre-trip oil change and it must have run down the radiator and attracted sand like a Harley attracts jokes. Fortunately Sunlight liquid and a hose sorted out the worst of it.

Around a dying fire we became aware of Antony sucking away at a bottle of Amarula and threatening anyone who asked for a share. He claimed it was like mother’s milk. Second night and he’s missing home already.

ANT THINKING ABOUT ANOTHER SIP OF AMARULA

Day 3 dawned clear but chilly and bikes and Landy were packed ready for the day ahead. But first there was a breakfast from heaven from Attie’s kitchen. When riding I normally eat a good breakfast and have a small snack for lunch, but with the excellent food on offer I ate enough to last for 2 days and only stopped eating because I was worried that my suspension had a load limit. It was also because I was threatened with serious bodily harm if I stole anyone else’s omelette.

GREAT BREAKFAST AT HONDEHOK

We took the boring road to Koiingnaas and turned down for those who had not been there before, and then headed back to the junction and headed inland on a road marked Springbok towards the Namaqua National Park. Now the road itself was sandy through some river beds, but not too bad, but we suddenly arrived at a gate that looked like it was made for a maximum security prison. The problem was that it was locked and that there was no-one to open it. We could not decide if we were in the park or outside (we were inside) and talk of hacksaws and pliers were put aside with regard to damaging the name of bikers and we set off on a track along the fence.

Grant was not happy with his bike now very difficult to ride as it cut out every time he slowed down. Our advice to just keep it wide open did not help his humour, especially as the track had numerous wash-aways and rocky sections.

After riding the fence for what seemed like hours we hit a left hand corner in the fence and I thought that at last we were getting somewhere. But not for long as we then hit a right hand corner and top my mind we were now heading the wrong way again. Oh well! Nothing for it but to trust the navigators who were both working of Ant’s new GPS. After a short distance we came across an abandoned house and I agreed to have a look at Grant’s carb. The Landy and 3 of the guys went on to check if the track onwards took us towards Kommaggas, with an agreement that they would wait for us at the next intersection. When I opened the carb I thought I had sorted out the problem as there were bits of what looked like silicon or rubber in the bowl. But the jets all looked clean so back it went. No difference – as soon as the revs dropped below about 2400 it died. Puzzled, we cheerfully encouraged him to just keep going and if he did stop we would be there for him. We did think about finding a different track but realized that it would be mean to leave him out there on his own.

The track from here was a mixture of loose gravel, rocky climbs and gulleys and seemed to go on forever, and ever and ever. I was at the rear and Grant disappeared in the distance probably thinking murderous thoughts about Suzukis and my technical abilities. Then we hit a few long sandy twin track sections and I was impressed that there were no signs of any spills even if there was some severe snaking at a few points and a few over shot corners. Congrats to Grant for getting through it intact. Eventually we got to the R382 and headed into Port Nolloth for lunch. Jaco’s GPS had also gone blank along the way leaving our pilot without guidance.

 

WE EVENTUALLY REACHED TAR TO PORT NOLLOTH

By now Grant’s bike had become more puzzling. It would idle perfectly – sometimes, but at others just die. Because it would be open road to Alexander Bay we decided to leave his bike and concentrate on getting to a suitable spot for lunch. In Post Nolloth we stopped and tucked into tinned fish, rolls and cheese while watching the diamond boats bobbing at anchor. I would not trust some of the smaller ones at sea. Then just as we were leaving Ant saw his tyre was flat and a bottle of slime was used and the tyre pumped.

There is nothing to say about the 80 kays to Alexander Bay except it was BORING, and misty and chilly, so when Alex Bay came into sight it was a relief and we turned in for fuel. Grant had perked up because he was so close to Oranjemund where he was born and spent his early years. Now I understand a bit more of why he is crazy.

GRANT: THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

We then headed the 15 kays up along the Orange River to Spogplaas. The softies elected to pay for soft beds for the night while us “real men” (read “poor”) erected our tents on the lawn and wandered off to check the novel statues dotted around the place. Either there is lots of spare time out there or it is a way of keeping boredom at bay. 

I can recommend Spogplaas. Anne-Marie, Salome and Karl-Heinz run a great place and good food, a few beers and relaxed atmosphere put the frustrations of the day behind us. Grant had even regained his mojo until he suggested that he would have to sleep with the dogs and Jaco responded. “Won’t work – even the dog has more pride”. Ant just calmly continued sucking at “his” bottle of Amarula, and I never got up to any mischief.

RELAXING AT SPOGPLAAS AFTER A TOUGH DAY

OASIS IN THE DESERT

Short day tomorrow – 80 odd Kays to Sendelingsdrif