What a weekend!
You know sometimes when you just get a day out on the bike it actually feels like you have had a 2-week holiday in an amazing destination. Well for me it does, especially after weekends like the one we just had.
Saturday morning, bright and early we met at the garage in Klapmuts. Bikes and kit all bright and shiny ready for the trip. We had a briefing and tanks were filled while some riders sipped on a cup of caffeine courage. Not knowing what the next 24 hours would bring we were eager to get the engines roaring. I can imagine that when 30 plus GS’es start their engines it must be quite intimidating for the rest of the humans in the parking lot. In my helmet I was like ‘’Watch this space’’.
The group split into Level 1 and Level 2 group riders and departed in their separate ways. With a quick goodbye, thumbs up and cheers of good luck we departed and were on our way. Where to you ask? This way, that way and then up and then down, and maybe left and right after that… it was a mystery.
We missioned on tar and winded through Wellington and then whoops! there she was, in all her glory… dirt … dust and gravel!
We winded through the farms and everyone’s wrist gout got a necessary flex as Neels would aptly put it. The cobwebs and kopwurms had moved to the back tyre and it was going well, and then riding in front I felt the bike do a dance and realised we had hit some sand patches. Hello Sand, it’s been a while! We wiggled through it and then the stick that lay across the road moved. Mother Nature through a snake in the mix just for fun. We indicated to Richard to be cautious, and then Elanza came and sailed passed our mini anaconda as if she was Crocodile Dundee with no scared hair on her head. Only later we heard she never saw the snake as she was too busy focussing on being LOS on the bike (Look up – Open up – Stand up).
We hit a few more patches of sand, and then the GS giants started falling like dominos. Oopsie, one potato, two potato, three potato, floor.
Luckily no GS babies were hurt in the process, maybe just a few bruised egos, but nothing a glass of something cold couldn’t remedy later on.
We winded between tar and dirt until we stopped at Citrusdal for some fuel. The weather started turning, and I realised our days of riding with 10 000 layers also has abruptly come to and end. Summer is here. We left the town with a roar.
We headed out towards Algeria and entered the Cedarberg. What a view. I love this place. You can come here at anytime and your soul will be filled. Open skies, clean air and the most beautiful mountains that tower above you. Being on a motorbike, twisting and winding in these mountains, it keeps you humble. How privileged are we to have all of this for free. In my helmet the only words that come out of my mouth into the silence, with a heart full of gratitude is Thank you!
With a cloud of dust,we stopped at Oasis. They were ready for us and it was very nice to take those boots and bike jackets off and have something that could clink a few ice blocks.
Accommodation was perfect with our mini tepee tents. Nothing a clean bed and a hot shower cant fix.
The call came through for our friends who departed after us that morning. On a technical pass near Wupperthal and Eselbank one of the riders made acquaintance with mother earth and required some assistance. The back up vehicle sped away while the rest of us kept the seats warm and the glasses full. We shared stories of the day, and it seems that our friend sand and rock was also on the menu for our other team for that day. Maybe we got off light? I am sure some would argue me with that one though. A few hours later all was back at Oasis safely and no major injuries.
After a good night’s rest, trainer’s on , I missioned by foot to explore a bit. Running here is one of my favourite things. Probably one of the places I have been with the cleanest air, and at that time of the morning the sunrise paints the sky in the most beautiful colours.
A breakfast of champions and loaded bikes, we were ready to rumble.
We headed out and followed the winding dirt road out of the Cedarberg. The road quality isn’t bad at all, and the team had definitely found its happy place. There was a minor crash-boom-bang, but the rider got up and dusted off quickly, and we were on the road again. We did a quick stop and au revoir at the Katbakkies turn off where some friends needed to hit the tar and the rest of us embraced the Katbakkies Pass, as this really is the ultimate and best way to enter the Tankwa. The GS train winded through the pass elegantly and stopped near the top to take in the magic around them.
We dropped down into the Tankwa and I swear my husband heard the coke and ice already, as I felt the bike do a jolted dance under me.
If you have never been to the Tankwa, let me draw you a picture. The nothingness between the blue skie and the brown earth is what makes it magical.
Everyone was in good spirits during lunch time, people who didn’t even know eachother’s names a day ago was talking like old-time mates.
Gear up for the last long road back to Ceres, the 355 is the road that reminds you, all good things come to an end my friend.
Okay, okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic. Let’s rather say Du Toit’s Kloof has that effect on me. When Table Mountain shows her face in the distance as you drop down over the pass, its like back to reality woman!
Getting home after a weekend like this, the body goes, ‘’I am tired and dirty!’’ But the heart says ‘’thank you I feel so much better now’’
People who don’t ride will never understand this until they are on the bike in the middle of no- where. That passion is either in your blood or it isn’t. if you don’t like getting dirty rather stay at home knit a jersey and leave all the adventure stuff to us.
I never liked knitting anyway.
Alphabet run 