Lift-off

The day finally arrived, the paperwork was all done, and it was time to start moving and let the corrugations of Africa’s roads massage the aftereffects of the terminally inefficient bike export bureaucracy out of my system.  Sleep didn’t come easy last night, we packed all afternoon, the Three Tenors were all fully loaded when I climbed into bed, and at my dad’s house the little blue Beemer was also prepped for take-off.  We were eager to get an early start as rain was forecast from about 11am in Cape Town.  Getting up early wasn’t a problem. I had hardly slept, thinking through my packing, have I taken too much?  Have I forgotten something?  So when I saw that the alarm was about to ring I finally had an excuse to get up.

At 07:50 we opened the garage door, not a drop of rain in site!  We messed around for a few more minutes and were about to roll out the door when suddenly we had vertical rain from all sides.  Typical!  But a bit of rain wasn’t about to dampen our spirits, so we pressed on and picked up my dad in Simon’s Town before heading out on the road to finally start this delayed adventure.

Our route took us across the city and up the West Coast to Melkbosstrand where we cut inland and headed for Riebeeck Kasteel and our first leg stretch of the day.  We started easy, cruising along at about 80 or 90 kph and getting used to the feel of the bikes under load an in the rain.  As we moved inland and north it dried out nicely, but a heavy cross-wind had us all leaning our bikes over into the wind even though we were going straight.  We went through some amazing mountain passes, with incredible topography, the perfect roads for taking a sports-tourer out for a Sunday morning spin.  But we aren’t here for a tootle along pristine tarmac, and quickly sought out some of the brown stuff that Africa does so well. 

After a quick lunch and fuel stop in Citrusdal we hit our first dirt road for this trip.  The road connects Citrusdal to Clanwilliam and runs along the edge of the Cedarberg mountain range.  Gary had told us that he has a problem – when he sees dirt it switches a switch in his brain which makes his right hand twist the throttle open.  He wasn’t joking, the front wheel had barely touched the dirt and Gary was off, it’s unusual to see someone driving on tarmac at 90kph, but then to accelerate to 130+ when the rough stuff starts.  I watched Gary ride away into the distance with Debbie sitting relaxed and comfie behind him. 

The hero of the day, though, was my dad – John.  He turns 70 in 4 weeks today, he has never ridden a big loaded bike on a trip like this, and I was a little nervous to be honest.  Pete hung back with my dad for the first 20 minutes or so, and I rode somewhere in between Garry and Debbie on Pavarrrrrroti and my dad and Pete who I could see in my mirrors.  Eventually I swapped with Pete who I imagined was dying to see what his Ten could do – he eagerly took off standing on his foot pegs with his bike wagging its tail around the corner – come to think of it he looked a bit like his dogs... 

Riding behind my dad was a bit like riding behind my daughter when we first took her off road on her mountainbike.  I sat there nervously, reading the terrain and watching every potential obstacle, shouting into my helmet “go left, watch that ditch, don’t brake!!!!  Power now!”  But just like Maya when she bombed down the path through the coffee bushes, my dad took to his bike and the dirt as if he had been doing it all his life – a perfect match.  Pretty soon I wasn’t riding slower for him than I would have on my own, and we road about 200km of dirt road through mountain passes, through muddy sections, rocky sections, different colours of Africa’s dirt.  Riding like that is incredible, you have to be alert to the elements, you have to constantly read the road surface, predicting what traction you will have (or won’t have).  Riding on tarmac is really quite boring in comparison.

We decided to press on to Nieuwoudtville and spend the night there.  Our first stop was the fuel station on the edge of town, and looking through the dirty garage window while our bikes were being filled we noticed some bikes inside.  On closer inspection we found a collection of 300 vintage motorcycles!  Sunbeams, DKWs, big ones, small ones, incredible – and incredibly fitting for the end of our first day of riding.  We ate a brilliant meal next to an open fire, and re-told the day’s riding.  Everyone was totally impressed with my dad’s performance today, and also with Debbie and her nerves of steel who was able to sit on the back of Pavarrrrroti taking incredible photos of the journey, while Gary pilots the bike as if he were racing the Roof of Africa again.

Tonight I will sleep well, I can hear the rain hitting the corrugated roof, and I will dream of corrugated roads.  Tomorrow we will press on via Loeriesfontein, Leliefontein and Springbok, with Port Nolloth in our sites for our dinner tomorrow night.