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Old 04-06-2009, 06:58 PM   #106
Douf OP
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Originally Posted by klrmtn
Well, it's been an interesting read, though that picture of you in the tub almost ended it for me. But I pressed on for the best. Good work and looking forward to the wrap up.
Thanks for your continued support.

The bath tub shot was actually our esteemed General - hairy little sucker ain't he (he has however suffered a significant loss of hair since the trip's completion, but I'll leave him to post a shot of the carnage if he sees fit).

In my defense though, as mentioned previously, I have at least refrained from posting a considerably more disturbing image. Back at Cape National park there was an extremely unsavory shot of Mikie involved in gratuitous exposure of his rusty bullet hole.

Only having ever seen that picture once (and unfortunately being unable to avert my gaze before it was indelibly burned into my subconscious), it still occasionally causes me to vomit in my mouth whenever its' twisted image is involuntarily recalled. In fact, many of those who witnessed the act are still in therapy, and I'm sure if I posted it here it would probably be enough to get the entire thread deleted and me permanently banned from the site.

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Old 04-06-2009, 07:17 PM   #107
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Originally Posted by klrmtn
Well, it's been an interesting read, though that picture of you in the tub almost ended it for me. But I pressed on for the best. Good work and looking forward to the wrap up.
......well sir, since you appear to be a fellow KLR aficionado, here's a really disturbing image just for you: the bottom cases of my intrepid steed after the con-rod tried to escape (80mph, interstate, rush hour - they're still looking for the seat cover)



Cheers,

Douf
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Old 04-06-2009, 07:57 PM   #108
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Thumb The Final Assault - Corner Four

Day 13: Graskop - Polokwane













From the outset, there had always been some uncertainty concerning the exact nature of the trip's conclusion for Gary and I. Our flight was due to depart on Friday evening and although the original route included arrival at the fourth corner today (Thursday); since the rest of the crew hadn't planned on being back in Jo'burg until sometime later in the weekend, some clarification of the final couple of days was still required to guarantee our continued participation. In my eyes, with the mileage from the fourth corner at Pontdrif to Jo'burg being a fairly comfortable proposition for the part of Friday that could afford to spent on the bikes, the question of whether on not our attendance at Pontdrif would become a reality never really entered my head. I'd just assumed that we'd get up at whatever time on Friday was necessary to allow the successful completion of any pre-flight chores. However, Gary's perception of what might be realistic was slightly different than mine and as a consequence I think he was uneasy about completing the entire Pontdrif - Jo'burg ride on Friday morning. (imagine that - someone even more anally retentive than me ). As it turned out though, the SA contingent were just as keen to have us all complete our shared goal together, so the final details of the route were fine tuned to put the crew back in Polokwane after completing our mission at Pontdrif. Polokwane was close enough to Jo'burg for Gary to be confident about completing the remaining Friday mileage with a minimum possibility for any show stopping drama.



It looked even better in the dark

Consequently a somewhat arduous travel itinerary awaited us on Thursday morning, made considerably more difficult by the atrocious climatic conditions conspiring to deliver a meteorological breakfast menu consisting of a thick foggy soup topped off with a generous portion of drizzling rain. In retrospect however, the consistently crappy weather had been a regular feature since, well, since IAN HAD JOINED THE TRIP. In fact the only dry day's riding I had done since he arrived was yesterday, coming out of Tembe, WHEN HE WASN'T WITH US. Subsequently I concluded the best explanation for this strange phenomenon was that he was probably conducting some kind of twisted ritual mating dance each night around the hotel bed, which was unfortunately being misconstrued by the weather Gods as a rain dance. If someone can shed any light on this admittedly sickening presumption, I'm all ears.


As a result of contending with the unintended effects of Ian's Rampant mojo, mercifully the full horror of our salubrious accommodation was significantly obscured from view by the restricted visibility of the thick morning fog. However, as we rolled carefully out of Graskop heading north along the R532, confiscating Ian's Hula skirt and Ouija board seemed like an increasingly good idea, since most of the spectacular views in the Blyde River Canyon were sadly compromised.





I guess God's window was clearer than I remembered

God's window was the first stunning visage that failed to reveal it's full beauty which, considering my own religious convictions, was personally no great surprise. However at our current location, being well above the level of the low morning cloud, there was a certain majesty to the surroundings, even given the restricted visibility.



Above the clouds, things were quite spectacular



What in clear conditions would have been a legendary motorcycle ride, unfortunately dragged us along on a roller coaster ride of visor fogging hell as it climbed and plummeted alternately through obscuring clumps of fluffy precipitation.



Presently the Three Rondavels theoretically presented themselves, since the only evidence of their existence on this particular morning, was a forlorn sign directing us to their supposed location. Paul and Cindy however, were adamant the short walk to the nearby overlook would be rewarded with a worthwhile panorama. I assured them the view of the fog in the parking lot would be essentially identical to that at the overlook - even took a picture to prove it - and subsequently the remainder if the crew, unconvinced with our leaders optimism, remained in the parking area smoking and swapping witchcraft tips with Ian.



Three Rondavels.............



..........Parking Lot. You decide

Ultimately the road descended from the scenic environs of the Blyde River Canyon and headed north on the R36, where the next events in the day's adventure unfolded.




On a clear day: Some other breathtaking scenery of the Byde River Canyon



Thanks Ian #1



Thanks Ian #2



Thanks Ian #3



Thanks Ian #4



Douf screwed with this post 04-07-2009 at 05:11 PM
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Old 04-07-2009, 11:08 AM   #109
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Eek A series of Unusual Events

The Strange Case Of The Boabab Tree (Day 13: continued)

These are the events of that strange Thursday morning, recounted exactly as I remember them....

Emerging safely from the challenging morning smorgasbord of climatic delicacies, our loyal band continued steady along the R36 as a combination of decreasing altitude and rapidly rising temperatures conspired to drive off the early morning mist. Presently after completing a brief detour over to the R40, Paul turned left onto a dirt road, which soon crossed a railroad track --that had paralleled our recent progress -and headed off into the countryside. Predictably, the road bike contingent slowed to their usual cautious dirt borne pace, which soon enough had Gary and I flying past leaving a dusty cloud in our wake (sorry guys!) Surface conditions were a mixture of loose sand and clay washboard, with a scattering of rocky sections that looked they had the potential to have us practicing our tire repair skills for the first time since Lambert's Bay.
Possibly with that in mind, Gary's pace moderated and I soon passed him, continuing up the trail at a reasonable pace. Arriving at an intersection having covered a few kms, I pulled over to wait for the others. Ian and Di came along shortly, quickly dismounted and were both soon enjoying a moment of nicotine assisted roadside relaxation. Having completed their exercise in potential lifespan reduction, some further consideration was given to our collective mortality since we'd just spotted a cemetery directly across the road from where we were standing. As the three of us wandered over to the site, I thought to myself how unusual it was to find a graveyard in such a remote location and the degree of weirdness ramped up ominously when the heritage of its' residents became apparent. The family name on many of the headstones was Nel which, for those of you not following along is also Ian's last name. What a macabre coincidence I secretly thought to myself and, since it subsequently transpired that most of the ex-Nels were of a somewhat tender age when meeting their collective maker, I considered the sinister probability that Ian's local relatives were involved in some form of ritual human sacrifice.



Hmmmmmmmmmmm.........



'I Wonder if I can make it to my bike?'

Starting to become concerned that the others had failed to arrive, I began to imagine what gruesome supernatural circumstances could possibly have halted their progress and, attempting to make my way out of the burial area as quickly as possible, from my peripheral vision I kept a wary eye on the other two for any signs of unusual behavior. Maybe the apparent kindness shown by Ian in offering to be the opening day guide for Gary and I wasn't mere coincidence after all; maybe that day's banzai kamikaze high speed lane spitting run through Jo'burg was an initial ploy to allow these unfamiliar
surroundings to become the convenient source of our own untimely demise; maybe the subsequent nerve wracking tour through Soweto really was an attempt at something way more sinister, that had failed to go as planned; maybe now, since none of that had worked as hoped, it was all going to come to a sudden end out here on this desolate stretch of unpaved rural back road, with Gary back there, lying lifeless in a ditch - the others as unfortunate collateral damage; and I would be conveniently dispatched to this backwoods graveyard, destined to spend eternity in South African Purgatory watched over by the ghoulish relatives of my erstwhile riding companion. As I stood by the bikes the two of them began to approach, but fortunately before they arrived at my location, a man in a truck came along and frantically I flagged him down to inquire of the others. Unfortunately though, he responded with a blank look of confusion, obviously failing to understand my request and, things took a decided turn for the worse when Ian strode purposefully over to the vehicle, authoritatively barked out a few sentences in a language that was completely alien to me; to which the man briefly responded before speeding off in a cloud of dust. My concern grew even further when Ian explained that although the man had traced exactly the same path we had covered, he had seen no sign of our friends and so, after quickly explaining that I was going back to look for them, I hastily turned my bike around and headed nervously back down the trial, all the while subconsciously deliberating exactly what kind of ghoulish scenario would ultimately conclude this ominous series of events.
And then we saw the Boabab tree.




As it turned out, a simple and - thankfully for the state of my personal sanity - innocent explanation was behind the group's current location. Re-covering almost the entire extent of my off road tracks, a short distance before returning to the familiar surroundings of the paved road, I came across a rustic sign containing the legend 'Boabab Tree', at which was parked a familiar looking motorcycle.



Sign on left - mystery solved



Apparently he's a 'she'



The Big Guy

Unbeknown to Ian, Di and myself, it had been necessary only to travel a nominal distance down the trail
before taking the short spur, at the end of which, the current object of our crew's collective wonderment was now majestically standing. Although it transpired that, while traveling along the washboard surface, Cindy's errant side bag had once again decided remove itself from the safe haven of its' mounting lugs; far from having to deal with any life threatening circumstances, our friends had completed a short uneventful journey along the dirt road to the viewing area, correctly assuming that their continued absence would eventually compel the missing outriders to turn around.



Quick release bag - Gary to the rescue



Good as new

So it was - with a significant sense of relief in my case -
that the three of us joined the others at the massive tree. And quite an impressive sight it was too; around 2000 years of gnarled and twisted growth, its' regal presence monumentally standing in the small clearing ahead.



Impressive to say the least

The imposing dimensions of one of the
world's oldest living things were such that the trunk was large enough to allow human intrusion into the room-like proportions of its' hollow center, and a long rustic step ladder enabled any awestruck visitor to climb up and take a photo perched aloft on the impressive beast. Presently however, after many almost spiritual moments spent in the company of this regal giant, the group retraced its' steps back to the pavement in a comfortingly mundane fashion and continued on towards Polokwane.



Gary (thumbs aloft) and Boabab




Our fixers try the Boabab on for size



Ian - He's a nice Guy, really

Douf screwed with this post 04-07-2009 at 05:24 PM
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Old 04-07-2009, 02:41 PM   #110
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Douf
......well sir, since you appear to be a fellow KLR aficionado, here's a really disturbing image just for you: the bottom cases of my intrepid steed after the con-rod tried to escape (80mph, interstate, rush hour - they're still looking for the seat cover)

Cheers,

Douf
Yowser, poor seat cover never stood a chance. Give it some time and then think of that unmentionable picture and you may just regurgitate it. On second thought, that sounds really grouse. Never the less, that sounds like a very exciting moment. Going up to the 685? I hear that should be an improvement all around. Good luck.
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Old 04-07-2009, 05:28 PM   #111
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Quote:
Originally Posted by klrmtn
Yowser, poor seat cover never stood a chance. Give it some time and then think of that unmentionable picture and you may just regurgitate it. On second thought, that sounds really grouse. Never the less, that sounds like a very exciting moment. Going up to the 685? I hear that should be an improvement all around. Good luck.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Precisely!

One Cool thing about the KLR: I Ebayed a bottom end, plus cylinder and piston combination, both with less than 2000 miles on, and put the whole thing back together for less than $500 - about the same price as a set of brake pads for the KTM.

Douf

Douf screwed with this post 04-08-2009 at 04:50 AM
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Old 04-08-2009, 12:49 AM   #112
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It's a fantastic corner of the country to ride. We spent two weeks there last year and only rode a fraction of the routes we had planned to do. It's a pity you didn't have better weather the scenery is really breath taking.

Just outside Tzaneen is a really cool spot with a pub inside a Baobab tree I don't know if you got to see it but below are a few pics of it from our trip:











Interesting info:

"Its 6 000 years old, 22m high and 47m in circumference, and the tree is possibly the biggest living thing on earth. Its even made the front page of the Wall Street Journal. Importantly, you can celebrate this fact with a drink at the pub, right inside the tree and about 5 000 people a year do just that."
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Old 04-08-2009, 05:58 AM   #113
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Question Geography lesson please

As I've been compiling the final sections of the Day 13 Travelogue, I've noticed what appears to be a glaring error. Being under the impression that we'd reached the Zimbabwe border at Pontdrif (and judging by some of the other write-ups on this little odyssey I'm not the only one), as I looked over the GPS track data and associated maps, it appears in reality that the border was actually with Botswana. Is this correct, or have Mugabee and his goons made a recent Botswanian land grab that I, nor Google/Garmin are familiar with?

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Old 04-08-2009, 11:28 AM   #114
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Captain Crash
It's a fantastic corner of the country to ride. We spent two weeks there last year and only rode a fraction of the routes we had planned to do. It's a pity you didn't have better weather the scenery is really breath taking.

Just outside Tzaneen is a really cool spot with a pub inside a Baobab tree I don't know if you got to see it but below are a few pics of it from our trip:











Interesting info:

"Its 6 000 years old, 22m high and 47m in circumference, and the tree is possibly the biggest living thing on earth. Its even made the front page of the Wall Street Journal. Importantly, you can celebrate this fact with a drink at the pub, right inside the tree and about 5 000 people a year do just that."
Damn! We got the shaft. The pathetic specimen we visited was only 2000 years old, and the only abiding memory I have of the inside of that thing is the sight of Cindy's leather clad ass attempting to squeeze in there.
Seriously though, thanks for the excellent pics. Certainly, It would've been interesting to check out that admittedly unusual specimen, but in doing so I'd probably have missed Ian's graveyard - which was one of the highlights for me.

Decisions, decisions! You just can't have everything, can ya?
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Old 04-08-2009, 02:56 PM   #115
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We had planned to visit the pub baobab and had it on the itenary but because of the "delay" at the other baobab and the decision to go to Pontdrif and back to Polokwane in one day we had to give it a miss ;-( Douf ....where did you get such lurid and violent thoughts ? If we had wanted to kill you off we probably would have had Mikie do more of the "g-string" photo shots....guaranteed to cause dementia in anyone!!!! And ....thanks for the leather clad ass comment- just wait ---you gonna need that fluid film next time we see you ;-))
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Old 04-08-2009, 04:08 PM   #116
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Laugh I've already ordered extra Fluid Film defences

Quote:
Originally Posted by biker chick
We had planned to visit the pub baobab and had it on the itenary but because of the "delay" at the other baobab and the decision to go to Pontdrif and back to Polokwane in one day we had to give it a miss ;-( Douf ....where did you get such lurid and violent thoughts ? If we had wanted to kill you off we probably would have had Mikie do more of the "g-string" photo shots....guaranteed to cause dementia in anyone!!!! And ....thanks for the leather clad ass comment- just wait ---you gonna need that fluid film next time we see you ;-))


That 'Bar Baobab' may have been the bigger tree, butt..............



............two words Cindy..............



.......................'Shape Breakfast'


Douf screwed with this post 04-08-2009 at 04:13 PM
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Old 04-08-2009, 04:35 PM   #117
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Douf, you are very brave or you have no intentions of every seeing her again. I hope see doesn't know where you live. You might have trouble ever visiting SA again.
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Old 04-08-2009, 04:45 PM   #118
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Douf, you are very brave or you have no intentions of every seeing her again. I hope see doesn't know where you live. You might have trouble ever visiting SA again.
She knows I'm just kidding - she's all of 120lbs soaking wet, if that. I'm confident she's got a pretty good sense of humor too, since the 'breakfast' comment was originally hers - I just waited for an opportune moment to use it and added the graphics.
BTW Douf Wife just saw my reply and, says I'm an asshole........... (again)

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Old 04-08-2009, 08:54 PM   #119
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Thumb We Made It

Baobab - Polokwane (Day 13: Continued)

Spending the early hours pursuing the elusive beauty of fog shrouded landmarks, plus the otherworldly experience at the Baobab tree, had undoubtedly had an adverse effect on the crew. However covering the mileage necessary on today's leg required a much greater sacrifice, namely: lunchtime beckoned and we hadn't even eaten breakfast.

A sour countenance pervaded the entire group as we sped relentlessly up the N1 towards Makhado. However, our collective mental disposition improved somewhat as signs of significant settlement appeared, which subliminally promised the gratuitous treat of imminent calorie disposal was close at hand. And suddenly there it was. A couple of quick turns into the parking lot of a Mall-like structure on the city's edge and as we parked our bikes, the familiar facade of the ubiquitous Wimpy franchise lay a short distance from where we stood. Amazingly though, rather than taking a seat in the - by now - extremely familiar surroundings of the expected culinary utopia, we marched straight into a Mike's Kitchen which lay on the opposite side of the thoroughfare. I still have no rational explanation for this series of events; the only thing I can come up with, is that in a similar vein to the other-worldly goings on at the Baobab tree, Paul experienced some kind of psychic intervention, where a premonition of the amount of shit he might get in future trip reports permeated his subconscious and, as a result he decided to partake in some kind of eleventh hour damage limitation maneuver to curtail the severity of any subsequent onslaught. If indeed that was the case, I guess it didn't work that well.



Feed us, damn it!

Whatever the reality of the situation, we had an excellent lunch and after filling the bikes up, headed off on the R522 towards the R521 and Alldays - the final stop before the border, which was still located another 150 miles away. Our progress from this point took on a level of seriousness, thus far essentially absent from other sections of the trip. Relentlessly pursuing our final goal, we rode on through the brutal afternoon heat and, to underline the intense nature of our travel, upon pulling in to the next gas stop at Alldays, barely a single cigarette had been sacrificed for the cause.



Sweethearts at Alldays

Although taking a fairly brief gas stop, there was still time to consume an ice cream or two. However, Paul was obviously straining at the leash and consequently he and Cindy were out of the facility almost before other riders had finished refueling. What had always been a trip conducted at a fairly frantic pace, had now in reality turned into a 50 mile sprint for 'first past the post' bragging rites at the Botswana border. Looking into the determined eyes of our motivated leader though, only a fool would have bet against the raging General. Even leaving well behind the rabbit and his doe, the rest of the crew entered into the spirit of the moment, blasting up the road at a fair rate of knots. The progress of Gary and I was almost halted before it started though, since only a couple of miles north we passed a broken down roadside pick-up truck with - I'm guessing - at least a 20ft high pile of crap lashed precariously to its' rear. Motioning the 'picture' hand sign, we both turned around to get the shot, but when Gary inquired about taking a picture, the owners were antagonistic and demanded a ridiculous amount of money for the pleasure, so we ended up leaving empty handed. After that brief delay, our subsequent progress was consistent and rapid, mine even more so than Gary's. As I motored up the predominantly straight road - rolling predictably over an arid landscape - apart from the occasional wildlife sighting on the surrounding terrain, the only other thoughts that entered my head nervously pertained to my machine's survival during this final frantic stretch. As inexorable progress inevitably brought the border within reach however, even those doubting thoughts subsided and as confidence improved with every mile, I shoveled more coals into the eager mill. What for me had been - with machinery longevity in mind - a general cruising speed of 140-160kmh for the majority of the trip, had now mutated into a solid 180+ in these final miles. Presently however, and with a mixture of relief and satisfaction I spotted the border crossing at Pontdrif: corner number four.

A jubilant group dynamic prevailed, as one by one we rolled into the fenced off security area. It had been, in parts, a pretty hard ride and, somewhat overwhelmingly, we'd all survived and made it here in one piece without any major drama to speak of. For a few moments we all stood there happily trading anecdotes before posing for the obligatory photo ops. Cindy related that she and Paul had rolled, hands aloft, simultaneously into the border. However I couldn't help but wonder whether a witness to that scene would surely report the machine ridden by our mild mannered actuary - turned manic speed freak - was actually a 'little more simultaneous' than its' competition.



Number Four - Oh yeah!

After taking a few pictures at the border (and at least one right at the gate, which the guards weren't too happy about), we sent the sweet talkers in and sure enough the gate was raised, allowing us over the border to step briefly into yet another country (which I thought at the time was Zimbabwe, but turned out to be Botswana). In actual fact though, I'm pretty sure we didn't really set foot in either country, since between SA and Botswana is a no man's land that stretches down to a river - the Limpopo, I believe - situated about a hundred yards or so beyond the sentry posts. I wondered at the time, who or what has jurisdiction over this apparently abandoned stretch of real estate. Beyond the river is Botswana proper, but since there was no way to get across easily - the cross border vehicles end up using a ferry - we had to settle for walking down to the water's edge to take a forlorn look into that forbidden country.



Heading to.........nowhere in particular



.........nowhere in particular...........



..............and coming back

As I mentioned, at the time I was under the impression that Zimbabwe was the object of my current wistful gaze; and having read about the apparent lawlessness in that country coming over on the plane (Dark Star Safari - an excellent read by the way, especially if you tend towards misanthropy like Paul Thoreau - the author - apparently does), I was especially captivated by whatever potential realities may have existed on the other side of that river. Although, with a complete absence of fuel, the local currency being all but worthless and the tenuous existence of the white man in current Zimbabwean society, quite how far my curiosity would have driven me was another matter entirely.



This picture may be illegal

Before wandering back into South Africa, most of the 'number four' celebratory pictures we shot ended up being taken on the no man's land side of the border and, at the time I remember thinking to myself how the simple act of walking a few meters into a potentially different world somehow exacerbated the adventure for me; that being in a place where even the local members of our group were on alien soil made the whole experience seem that much more extreme. Melodramatic, I know: but there you have it. Once back on the African side, our happy band lingered within the fenced off border area for quite some time. The over-riding sense of accomplishment, satisfaction and contentment was palpable as we stood there chatting and as I recall, there was a small group of locals just outside the confines of the fence who, from the looks of their smiling expressions, also seemed to be captivated by our giddy demeanor and spent a good while contentedly watching our animated discussions. Ultimately though, after all the hugging and back slapping had subsided, it occurred to us that there was still the remaining part of the trip to finish and, more immediately we still had some less appealing mileage to complete before the end of this particular day.



Happy? - you're damn right!



To say the least, the ride back to Polokwane had the potential to be less than memorable. Looking at the map, and having just completed our ultimate goal, the likely prospect of an uninspiring 120 mile road/scenery cocktail presented itself in a distinctly unappetizing fashion. And the fact that we'd be retracing a good portion of it for the second time today didn't help matters either. We set off enthusiastically enough however, resigned to our collective fate and obviously intending to polish off the remaining miles in as expedient a manner as possible. I wicked up the GS back to the elevated level that she'd been running at just before Pontdrif and consequently, once again pulled a short gap on the perennially cautious Gary (an unusual feature in itself, since for almost the entire duration of this trip, we had consciously ridden within sight of each other). As insignificant as this small gap appeared, it ultimately complicated the proceedings when, having pulled into the first gas stop behind a small building and the only visible trees in an otherwise barren landscape, I immediately realized that Gary may not see our bikes, so I dismounted and began to run out to the highway as quickly as possible in order to alert him of our presence. However, despite whatever haste I could muster, my roadside arrival was just in time to witness the oblivious Gary speeding past in a haze of dust and determination; and although I continued into the middle of the road, waving my arms frantically, he never saw us. No big deal: Gary had the phone and eventually he'd call. So we gassed up the bikes, had another ice cream and headed back out.



'I think numb-nuts just rode straight by. Oh well gimme another Choc-Ice'

I continued to ride along aimlessly, repeatedly calculating and recalculating: remaining mileage, how long would it take, average speed, and all the other typically mundane statistics swimming around in the head of any anally retentive long distance motorcyclist riding along with nothing particularly interesting to look at. The persistently predictable landscape washed indifferently over my visor: scrub grass, scrub trees, plains, desert, Tropic Of Capricorn - TROPIC OF CAPRICORN - SCREEEEEEECH! Probably no big deal to my native companions, but certainly a sign I don't see that often in my neck of the woods - I'd payed so little attention to the current route, I didn't realize we'd even be passing it, so it was a total surprise when it did come into view. Koshik/Narissa, Ian/Di and I - who were all riding somewhat together at this stage - pulled over and took a few shots. Before leaving the spot however, I lamented the fact that the temporary loss of our American riding companion had suddenly taken on considerably more significance. Solitary Gary, somewhere up ahead of us, had missed this excellent opportunity which, for the biggest sign whore I've ever met, was quite a catch. Even in the best case scenario, he'd only get a picture of the sign itself which would inevitably sit uneasily amongst all the other shots in the large cache of 'Gary+sign' photos comprising the Parece travel archive. So I took one last pic of the sign itself, - just in case he hadn't seen it - concluding that a little Photoshop manipulation would fix this unfortunate oversight. No one'll ever be any the wiser.



FF's and the sign

Following this brief moment of excitement, the remainder of the ride essentially reverted to it's previous form: that is to say, an exercise in monotonous high speed mileage disposal. At this stage however, I'd like to point out that, contrary the generally pessimistic and cynical tone of my commentary, I really was still enjoying myself immensely and, I really do think that a bad day on a bike beats the hell out of a good day at work. In fact it beats the hell out of a good day doing just about anything else. Anyway, continuing along at high velocity; enjoying the motion based camaraderie of riding along in a nucleus of unrelenting successfulness, destined to shortly conclude its' inexorable progress, our jubilant crew ultimately rolled into the outskirts of Polokwane. Before that moment however, I failed to get a picture of an impressive group of antelope-like creatures situated just off to the side of the road as, prior to the shutter release they scattered, and disappeared over a nearby hillside; and Ian's GS developed a minor problem with its' kill switch, that the resourceful Koshik - apparently reveling in his newly found status as 'Adventure 'Blade' pilot - managed to repair without too much drama; and just before stopping for gas on the outskirts of the city, Gary called, and happily, without any further drama, he appeared soon after and we all rolled triumphantly into town as one.


Douf screwed with this post 04-08-2009 at 10:06 PM
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Old 04-08-2009, 11:50 PM   #120
Koshik
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Douf
and Ian's GS developed a minor problem with its' kill switch, that the resourceful Koshik - apparently reveling in his newly found status as 'Adventure 'Blade' pilot - managed to repair without too much drama;
Actually .. it was a case of my "common sense" tingling.

I stopped on the side of the road to take in the quietness and the savanna like views .. and giving the thumbs up to my fellow travellers passing me to signal that I was okay.

Unknown to the rest , Ian was trying to wave them down cos his GS just cut off after a bird flew under the bike. It just so happened to stop behind the blade.
I thought that he and Di were stopping to take some pictures as I had.

After realising his predicament ... we scratched our heads in puzzlement trying to figure out how the kill-switch broke... especially trying to figure out how could the bird have caused it from under the bike. (coincidence possibly).

After a few comments about a BMW not completing the trip and Tazzman (a local BMW dealer) will be so pissed off ... Ian managed to get GS started.

I also have to mention that a local that works for CAT (as in Caterpillar earth moving machines) stopped and offered his assistance and not only want to shared his tools .. .but give them to us. Luckily we didnt require them ... BMW's make there bikes big enuf to carry that stuff around... as apposed to the Japanese manufacturers ... they make their bikes small and fast ... so the forced to make the reliable
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