The road home

The next morning was to be our last as a team. Charlotte and Steve were taking the direct route back to George while Pierre and the girls had to follow the boys back to Cape Town and then take the bikes on to George later. We thought we had plenty of time and the weather had turned good again so a hearty breakfast was had by all. Then we went outside to find the trailer had another flat tyre. No shocker there then – we couldn’t really expect anything less! This put us behind schedule (which was pretty tight anyway as the boys had a plane to catch that afternoon and who knew how DaveC would wind up security at the airport?!) A quick photo call was followed by goodbyes as the 2 bikers set off home. The rest of us headed back up the road to the local garage to get the puncture fixed. Wimpy anyone?

We were soon off again and the boys were able to take in the sights of South Africa – something Gareth had missed on the way up as he was concentrating so hard on his biking. It was beautiful as we made our way through valleys of vineyards and orange and lemon orchards. We passed a field which was being crop sprayed by a local pilot. Talk about skills – this guy was flying under the electricity wires.

After a brief petrol stop (which DaveC completely missed as he was motoring along like an old fella) we headed up over the mountains. The view on the way down was incredible – we could see nearly as far as the cape and it was all green and pretty flat. In reality the road undulated and it wasn’t for another while until we could see Table Mountain. There was just enough time for some last minute Superman biking although the cops didn’t seem too impressed. We pulled into the same petrol station we left from weeks earlier and put the 125s back on the trailer. A quick trip to the mall (cheers Pierre) and the boys were taken to the airport.

So how do you summarise the trip? Two words: in credible.

Broken bikes, beards and shed loads of food

Our last full day on the bikes was a run from Springbok to just outside a little town called Klawer. It was to be asphalt all the way and the team were looking forward to taking in the sights on the way south – the wild flowers that lined the road on the way up would be even more colourful a couple of weeks further into spring. Surely nothing could go wrong as all the difficult roads were behind us?

It all started off as planned – Pierre and Steve took the Yamaha to get fixed for the last time and we met in the Wimpy in Springbok for breakfast. Then it was back on the road and the familiar sight of Gareth being held up by the wind and his (deceptive) weight as the rest went on ahead. After a few hours we made it back to Bitterfontein where the bakkie was waiting at the side of the road. We pulled off the main road to find the trailer had yet another flat tyre. What a surprise. Thankfully the petrol station also had a tyre garage out the back. After some good old fashioned BFI (brute force and ignorance) the trailer was fixed. Back on the bikes but not for long as the Yamaha refused to even attempt to start. Again Pierre came to the rescue and we soon had the fuse changed. The second attempt to leave was ended when DaveC’s chain fell off and we discovered the 3 boys’ bikes all needed adjustment (as well as a missing part for DaveC). Third time lucky and we eventually made it out of Bitterfontein.

We made it to Klawer just as the clouds began to threaten and found our way along our last dirt track of the trip to Pierre’s uncle-in-law’s house. What a great place and what a way to finish the day. A couple of the guys ate till they could eat no more. Light relief was provided by Gareth and DaveC’s beards and DaveW’s riddles as well as Lauren’s ideas on nature (David Attenborough’s job is safe for the moment – apparently penguins are not fish) .

The road to the border and our first cloud in weeks

After a hearty breakfast and several references to DaveW’s new friend we were back on the road and heading for the border. This was to be one of the best days in terms of scenery that we would have. The countryside grew more mountainous as we entered another diamond mining area. Suddenly the road got tired of being straight and after a few hairy hairpins we were riding through the Orange River valley along the border. It was stunning. The team got split up as Gareth and Charlotte had to give way to a crowd of monkeys crossing the road. They watched the bikers from the cliffs along the roadside. The 2 Daves had apparently gone on ahead so the bakkie took off after them to get them to wait. Meanwhile the Daves had stopped and gone down to the riverbank a little way up the road as Gareth and Charlotte did a little offroading. So the bakkie was miles up the road, Gareth and Charlotte were making slow and steady progress along the road and the 2 Daves had gone backwards to see where everyone was (miles in the opposite direction). Eventually they turned round and caught Gareth and Charlotte before speeding off to tell Pierre what was happening.

The valley changed from mining to wining (if such a word exists) as the sand and gravel was broken up by large vineyards. One of the vineyards had a small settlement which looked like it consisted entirely of stick huts (presumably for the workers and presumably with something a little more substantial hidden behind the sticks).

Eventually the team got back together near the border and we were back in South Africa in no time. The next stop was Springbok and we arrived just as we saw our first clouds in a couple of weeks. This was not a good sign. We had dinner in El Dago – the only open restaurant in town. And we were the only customers. And the waiter seemed to be a “friend” of Boris. Amazingly the place filled up and the team amused themselves with the other patrons and a little game I like to call “Who can eat the sauce that smells like feet?”.

We got back to camp as the rain started so the tents were hastily put up and it was another early night.

Rosh Pinah, Boris and other adventures

We left Luderitz behind after another great cooked breakfast. As soon as we hit the long road back to Aus, the 2 Daves took off out of sight as Gareth struggled with the wind. Then the Yamaha got another flat so Pierre had to take the bakkie off road so the bike could be loaded onto the trailer with just 3 people. One hairy pitstop later we were off to Aus for a quick break before leaving the asphalt behind again and heading south for Rosh Pinah which turned out to be another mining town (this time zinc). The campsite was down a track about 17km off the main road and the boys made it there before Charlotte had to bring them back – the trailer had packed in again. They had gone on ahead to a guesthouse in the town so the bikes spent about half an hour roaming the streets before ending up back at the petrol station where we started. The guesthouse was about 50m round the corner up an alley.

We finally got ushered in through a security gate and found the trailer surrounded by locals – more bush mechanics. It was then that we realised this was no ordinary guesthouse. We each had en suite rooms in the accommodation block beside the swimming pool and bar which had a huge screen showing the rugby and pool tables and dart board (where Lauren worried a few of the locals) and restaurant (where Lauren confused the waitress with talk of her taglatellycarbanaaara). This place was amazing! Pure luxury again. It’s tough being a missionary.

Charlotte took a dip in the (freezing) pool while the rest got showered and changed. Then it was to the bar to watch the match followed by dinner in the restaurant. Pretty soon it was time for bed but the boys weren’t finished yet. Back to the bar for a few games of pool and the disco. Anyone for Eurovision style songs? Well the locals loved it. Pretty soon they were dancing all round the bar. I say dancing – it was more like a weird mating ritual you would see on a nature programme. Eventually the men just picked the women up and carried them around for a bit. Speaking of being picked up, DaveW made a friend. Boris. He’s quite butch is Boris. Reckon he could pick Dave up for a wee dance. He may even have tried. Safe to say Dave will be worried if he ever has to go back…

Bush mechanics and road kill

Ahhhhh, another day on the open road. And another problem. The Yamaha decided it was time for a puncture but not before the boys had sped off again. They stopped at the end of the longest road in the world and waited. Then they went back to find the Yamaha already on the trailer thanks to some locals (who just so happened to live at the right place in the middle of the back of beyond). Then it was on to Aus where the garage would get the bike fixed. Or so we thought. They don’t fix bikes there apparently. Next stop Luderitz! Only it really is at the end of the longest road in the world. I think.

The closer we got to the coast, the weirder the landscape got. And the stronger the wind got. By the time we were heading downhill off the plain there was a sidewind which made the bikers travel at an angle of about 60 degrees – which was fun, especially with the sand storm.

Luderitz exists because of the diamond mines. So does the ghost town at the top of the hill. Now it is weird. We stopped to fix the bike ourselves as the guys at the tyre garage didn’t do bikes – just tyres. Meanwhile the 2 Daves went off to sort out accomodation. We decided against the campsite at the end of the pier (what with the gale force wind and all) and stayed in the Krapzplatz guest house. Nice place. Looks like nothing from the outside but was lovely inside. Dinner consisted of “steaks” which remained red raw after being on the braai for over an hour.

Mishaps and near misses

The day started well, I think. Gareth lost his wallet. Then Gareth lost his glasses case on the road. Then Pierre had a problem with his bike and had to stop. Meanwhile the 3 boys took off into the desert and missed the turnoff. So Charlotte had to speed after them and caught up just after a springbok nearly took DaveC off his bike. Meanwhile the bakkie was moving again but one of the boxes had been left out on the trailer and was now in a million pieces across the road along with all the kitchen utensils that were in it. Even the well-used ice cream scoops (you never know when you’ll need two).

The trailer then developed a problem but it was fixable. Lunch took place in the metropolis known as Betta – well known for its famous curry mince baps. Nice. We also saw some amazing wildlife – there were all sorts of wild animals in the area but the highlight was probably the herd of zebras that crossed the road in front of us. There just aren’t enough zebra warning signs in Belfast (I am resisting the obvious zebra crossing joke).

Plans changed and we stopped for the night in Helmeringhausen where we haggled a deal with the owner for some rooms. And what rooms they were. Who’d have thought such a small town would have such a great place to stay? And with such a welcoming owner. And dinner was great as well. It was this part of the trip that DaveC and Gareth became obsessed with Hemingway. Pierre and DaveW decided that they loved the outdoor life so much they would resist the temptation of a warm bed and sleep outside again. Well, if you count the back of a car as outside – you’re kidding nobody Dave!

The tough life of the missionary

We set off from Solitaire and headed for the dunes and Sossusvlei. Long straight roads were the order of the day and the bikes lead the way. The 125s were really coming into their element on the gravel roads and pretty soon the bikes had put a good distance between themselves and the bukkie – but not before the video camera came out.

Click here to see the team on the road to Sossusvlei.

Eventually Pierre caught up on the Yamaha and told the bikers that the suspension on the trailer had broken and he was going to go back to Solitaire with the bukkie to get it fixed. The 2 Daves, Gareth and Charlotte were to go on and find somewhere to stop – either shade or perhaps a building / lodge. We continued but there was no obvious stopping place until we got to Sossusvlei campsite. We went along a dirt track and came across an amazing lodge and chalets overlooking a watering hole and plain which stretched to the horizon and the famous dunes. It was here we decided to stay (it didn’t take much persuading) until the others got the trailer fixed and caught up. Pierre reckoned it would take about an hour or two so we settled back for at least a 4 hour wait. We had a great buffet lunch with some American tourists and a bit of a snooze after Charlotte rang back to Solitaire to let them know where we were.

Late in the afternoon, the bukkie and Pierre made it to the campsite and we went down to meet them. Cue another amazing sunset. A quick barbecue / braai and we set up camp on the veranda of a disused building at the entrance to the campsite. DaveW got the plumbing working and we didn’t take long to get in to bed. No sooner had Gareth laid down than the mosquitoes attacked – 24 bites on one hand and ten across the forehead. He wasn’t the only victim as Lauren made the mistake of sleeping within 5 feet of him.

Off-road antics and apple pie

The next day we left Windhoek behind and began the journey south. We were barely 5 minutes outside Windhoek when we left the asphalt roads behind us. We were heading for Solitaire – a journey of a few hundred kilometres on dusty gravel roads. It took the morning for the boys to get some confidence on the bikes and the first natural stop for lunch came at a mountain pass. It was a bit of a surprise as we rounded a corner, came through a gate and were greeted with a spectacular panoramic view of the hills. Out came the cameras and then lunch – a couple of apples each.

Pretty soon we were back on the bikes and the scenery kept getting better. The road clung to the side of the hill and snaked back and forth as we dropped into the valley. Gareth decided to video the descent but gravel roads, hairpin bends and video recording proved difficult at best.

Once we were out of the hills there was yet another huge plain to cross. The land undulated just enough to hide a big gorge that the road suddenly dropped into. This provided a spot to rest and we weren’t the only ones to take advantage of the shade.

Once again we were back on the road and not far out of the gorge we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn for the second and last time. Yet another photo opportunity. Then it was a long straight run to Solitaire. This is a town which is known for its apple pie. Some would say that’s because it’s all you can buy there but it was pretty good – especially for a weary biker. This was to be our first night without tents as it was warm enough.

The airstrip was just beside the campsite and it was the viewing station for yet another amazing sunset. All around us were the sounds of the local wildlife – we never did figure out what they were but there sure were a lot of ‘em.

There was also a telly where the Springboks were playing Connaught. Again, it was weird to have another Northern Irish connection, but the commentary was provided by our own Jim Neely (I think). After the match it was off to bed to sleep under the stars.

Noises at night, another contact, Pierre’s petrol problem

Everyone woke in the middle of the night to strange noises. There were a lot of voices keeping us awake but that wasn’t all – Pierre, DaveC and Gareth were making noises of their own. Apparently something from yesterdays lunch disagreed with them.

After a pretty sleepless night, the team set off to meet with a local church. Pierre put the boys in the back of the bukkie and set off. We promptly got lost as usual and ended up being a wee bit late for our meeting. The church was huge (even had its own barbeque veranda area) and the minister was very welcoming. He gave us a few names of people who were heavily involved in work in Northern Namibia and showed us around the church buildings.

Then it was back to the mall for lunch. The restaurant gave the Daves their no-egg-burgers. It had a sign on the wall for a hot winter drink. It was warmer in Windhoek in the middle of winter than it was in the height of Belfasts summer. That’s just taking the mick.

After a chill-out back at the campsite, Pierre and the boys went for a ride. We went to check out Heroes Acre but decided a pound each was way over the top and so headed for the hills to do a spot of off-roading. We went to the top of a hill overlooking the city and found an army base where they didn’t seem too friendly.

On the way back down the hill Pierre ran out of petrol. He and Gareth waited while the Daves went for help. It was here we met Fritz – a local who used to deliver Harley Davidson merchandise. Pierre got a free badge and Gareth got cold on the way back to the campsite in the dark.

A trip to the cinema finished the day off nicely even though DaveW made everyone wait for an hour till his film finished.

Biker Church, getting lost for lunch, Gareth feels at home.

We went to the Biker Church as promised and were warmly greeted. We had expected to pull up amidst a crowd of motorcycles and were a wee bit disappointed that we doubled the number of bikes in the car park. However, the church did fill up a bit. The Northern Irish contingent soon felt at home when the second song we sang was “Days of Elijah” – a song written by Robin Mark, a worship leader at the church literally round the corner from Gareth’s house in Belfast. The collection helmets were passed around (yes, helmets) and the minister (and owner of the bike shop across the road) gave a talk on faces.

We left and decided to follow Pierre who knew some place where we could get a good lunch. We came to a lodge (just past the taxidermy place with its pink leopards and green springbok) only to find it was the wrong place. However, Gareth was pleased to see an old Namibian fire engine (you just can’t get away from the job). Everyone got the obligatory photos of the fireman and his toy. We also found out we were 15km past the place we were looking for.

Eventually we found it – and what a place. A big game ranch overlooking a waterhole with an amazing restaurant. All you can eat carvery? OK, then. And we did. Even the springbok and wafer thin mint. Oh, how we would remember that meal.

Then it was back to town. And where would we end up? Oh yeah. The mall. Again. Still, it gave DaveW the chance to watch City beat United. And Gareth said yes to a new experience – cream soda ice cream floats. That’ll be the last time, then. I can’t think of a single good green drink.

Another late night (at least 7pm) and we were soon off to bed. But the antics were far from over…