To boldly go where no Marauder has ever gone We left Friday morning just after eight. We were supposed to leave at nine but we were packed and ready to go so I called one of the other guys and told him we’re taking off. They all ride crotch rockets so I made it sound as if we’re doing them a favor which he swallowed hook, line and sinker. So we took of on a leisurely drive through the vineyards of the Cape Province, going past Grabouw and Villiersdorp and on to Robertson. Stopping often to enjoy the scenery and to smoke cigarettes or take pictures. We were supposed to meet the rest of the gang in Robertson but they screamed past us while I was taking a leak in the Nuy valley without seeing us so we were alone for the rest of the way. We had no hope of catching them so we settled back and enjoyed the ride. I didn’t really mind as I like to stop often, and as my Marauder still have the stock seat and bitch pad we only last about an hour before we need to stop to stretch legs.
We got some light rain early in the morning in the mountain areas but that was soon behind us. We went through the most wonderful scenery and stopped to have a look at an old English fort dated 1899 erected during the Anglo-Boer War just outside the town of Montagu . The English erected these forts in an effort to catch the elusive Boer commandos and see an end to the war that was dragging on and costing them a fortune.
We then had breakfast in Montagu where we met a guy on a BMW that was also on his way to the rally. We hooked up and drove together for a while. The roads were wide and open so we made good time to Barrydale and then on to Calitzdorp. We were also riding downwind and away from the rain so I needed little to turn the taps open and give that bike free reigns. The ‘rauder showed it’s capable of doing and maintaining high speeds even with two up. I passed a lot of cruisers at what must have seemed impossible speeds for them. This bike has amazed me so many times and still sometimes it surprises me. The guy on the BM left us in Barrydale as he didn’t want to stop when we had coffee.
At Barrydale we saw a bike accident where a guy and his wife on an 1400 Intruder rode into the side of a car that pulled out in front of them. There is a petrol station next to the road and about 100 meter further the road from town joins the road we were using. There were a lot of bikes taking in fuel and he must have looked at them for a second and when he looked back this idiot was right in his way. They hit the pick-up truck and went flying into some cactus-like plants. There were also some rocks strewn around which they cleared, fortunately. Both were taken to hospital when an ambulance finally arrived about an hour after the accident happened (absolutely pathetic). The bike was totaled. I read in the newspapers they’re OK though.
After arriving in Oudtshoorn we started looking for the camp site. We were pretty tired and it turned out the camp site was 35 km further on. So we proceeded. Just outside town was a police road block. They stopped every-one coming into town from the rally site side.
We saw another nasty accident where a impossibly fat guy on a Kawa 1300 misjudged a very sharp corner and went into the guard rails. As I came around the corner all I could see was his feet and this huge stomach sticking out under some short of jacket. His bike went down the mountain but he was lucky. He was lying in the road but he was so fat we couldn’t move him, which was good as you shouldn’t move an accident victim as every-one knows. So we left one of his buddies with him and some-one to direct traffic around him and went after his bike. It was lying about 40m downhill next to some trees. There was a dirt road back up so we got it back without to much effort, unbelievably it started first time and we rode it up, it was seriously bent though. Help arrived and we left. I was somewhat shaken. Later in the weekend two more bikers went down on that same corner, one was seriously hurt, the other was drunk.
At the camp site there were so many people we drove around for about an hour and found people we haven’t seen since high school, old Army buddies and even my neighbor (I kid you not). All but the guys we were with. So we left our backpack with some friends and set off back to town to go and fetch our tent and sleeping bags which I send up with a lift, remember it’s a 70km round trip. We were stopped at the road block and it was explained to us that it was “just a routine”, we were told to ride slowly to the next marker about 20 m away. I thought maybe the idea was to see if you fall over then they knew you had to much to drink. I was glad I took the contraband out of my bag after my wife decided to join me as I would have had some explaining to do if I was searched and those were found.
As we turned into the main road my wife rubbed her eye and out popped her contact lens. She asked me to stop and she put it back right there on the pavement after it ended up in the dirt a couple of times, she never complained, regular little trooper I thought. We found the house after asking for directions a couple of times and we took the bag. She asked to use the bathroom to fix her contact lens and then we were off after deciding to eat in a Steak Ranch while we were in town. The bag was very heavy and I was worried about my wife having to carry it the 35 km back to the rally site. She only weighs about 50 kg’s herself.
As we sat in the restaurant I saw a guy I knew with a car and I jumped up and ran after him with the waiter chasing after me. After explaining about the bag we had to get back to amp he said no problem he’ll take it and the waiter led me back to the restaurant by my ear. I had some explaining to do.
One of the funniest moments of the weekend happened in the restaurant. The place was packed with mostly bikers and all of a sudden I heard some-one asking his girlfriend loudly “Say stukkie, are we gonna pomp tonight?”. “Pomp” means screw/shag! We laughed our arses off!
We left for camp and at the gate we ran into some more friends. We still haven’t found our crowd so we camped with these guys. We build a big fire and started festivities. The camp was already full of bikes and more arrived all the time. Here we also got the bad news that a biker that made a huge impression on me died in an accident on his way to the rally. Him and his wife were riding their bike when luggage came loose and ended up under the rear wheel, sending them into a guard rail. She was killed instantly and he died in a hospital without regaining consciousness. We attended a memorial service for them at 10 o’clock that night. He was probably the best known motorcycle pastor in the Cape and we’ll all miss them. My condolences to his family and friends.
Many stories were told around camp fires. We crept into the tent around one o’clock. As we tried to sleep through the noise of bikes being revved, the music and people talking around camp fires we realized we wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. We listened to people telling jokes and two guys who wanted to ditch their wives and go and look for some action getting in real big trouble. They disregarded the threats and left, only to return about an hour later, even more drunk. Needless to say they were in serious trouble by then. We listened to them being crapped out like two naughty schoolboys. Then the one decided he’s had enough and started looking for his bike keys. He has decided to go home. His wife begged him to stay I begged him to go or stay but to just do something as his wives nagging was getting to me. Finally he got onto his bike and raced into the traitorous pass - in the middle of the night. But that was not the end of his wives nagging. She went to his buddy, that was just as drunk and passed out in his tent and started nagging and threatening him to go and look for her husband who probably wrapped himself around a road sign by then. Finally the buddy gave in and also took off. They both came back together about an hour later. Then for the rest of the night we listened to them being comforted by their very relieved partners. I went to the cafe at 4 in the morning to buy us something to eat and some Cokes and they were still at it.
Saturday morning the weather turned bad. I was very tired from the long ride and lack of sleep. We decided to seek alternative accommodation and set of to town where we found a place in a “Pension”. We showered, ate and slept a bit. I planned to go back to the camp site at 4 ‘clock for the concourse d’elegance but it was raining cats and dogs and we went for a nice dinner, bought some books and cuddled up. Nice to have your wife with you on such occasions… Or some-one else’s wife I suppose…
Sunday morning the bikers started leaving early. We could hear them from around 6 o’clock. We weren’t going home just yet so we had a nice breakfast. The place where we ate had a big blackboard up with “Warning : Speed trap outside Ladismith” written on it. I think they all got big tips that day, that’s excellent service in my book. After we’ve eaten we talked the owner of the Pension into looking after our luggage and set of to do some sight seeing. Although it was very cold it didn’t rain.
We rode to Meiringspoort and saw some spectacular scenery. There were road works in progress and in some sections the road were closed for two way traffic. They would make you wait at a stop sign until the oncoming traffic has passed and then let you go, they count the number of cars in a group and use two way radios to tell the other side how many vehicles must pass, because you don’t want some-one coming from the front around some of those corners. We rode through and turned around to go back. We were the last vehicle in our group and I stopped a couple of times to take pictures. When we got to the checkpoint there was a queue of cars almost 100 meters long all waiting for us and right in front was 2 Hayabushas also returning from the rally. We went putta-putta past them all at a leisurely pace. The guys on the bushas were screaming at us and waving their arms to get us out of the way (remember we stopped along the way while every-one was waiting for us) as on que both my and my wife’s arms went up and gave them a middle finger in unison, right in their faces. You go babe!
I have always had the highest regard for America marketing since I was once deep in Africa, at a kuca shop and heard an African ordering a “Black Coke”. When I enquired I was told you get different kind of Cokes. You get green ones (Lemon Twist) Orange ones (Fanta) and black ones (Coke or Pepsi). How could I be so stupid! Colddrink is Coke and cigarettes are Lexington and that’s it. You want a Fanta you order a Orange Coke! Well I witnessed it once again. We were driving through some of the most remote areas in the Southern Cape, near De Rust, when we stopped for a cigarette. Shortly after we stopped we were swamped by a lot of dirty kids, all being called to come and see the “Harley-Davidson”. Remembering the Coke incident I didn’t even try to explain. I suppose a good looking bike is a Harley-Davidson and that’s that!
Upon our return we picked up our luggage and set off for George where we were to stay with a buddy for a couple of nights. The idea was to use his place as base and explore the Southern Cape coast from there. It was very cold as we went over the Outinqua Pass, which was build by Italian prisoners of war during the World War (the one in black and white). We arrived in George around 1 o’clock and was very cold and looking forward to a hot cup of coffee. We had that and some lunch. After we finished we asked the owner of the restaurant to look after our luggage and explored the town on foot. When we were finished we bought a newspaper and went back to the restaurant where we ordered a pizza and some beer. Our host finally arrived at 5 o’clockwhen I’ve already drunk way to much beer. He took us to his flat and as he was house-sitting for some-one else we had the place all to our selves. It started raining that same night.
Monday it rained the whole day, so we couldn’t do much riding. Our host brought us his car which we used to go to the museum and drive around a bit. This area must have the most mountains I have ever seen. One whole floor of the museum was taken up by pictures and displays of how some of these mountains were made passable for vehicles. I remember the one display where they had this huge fire burning on the rocks and then threw water on the rocks once it was warm so it would crack. There was also a exhibition of Ruby Reeves’s work which now all belongs to some doctor and which no-one has ever seen. Some really nice paintings, mainly of good-looking naked women so even I could appreciate it.
We were really concerned about the weather as we planned to take the trip back to Cape Town the next day. We had a terrific dinner on Monday night where our host introduced us to his new girlfriend (yummy) and we had way to much beer. The restaurant, for some reason throws ice in the urinals, so after spotting this, the next round of drinks we ordered we specifically said “No Ice”. The waiter walked right into the trap and asked why not and we said “Because we saw where you keep it!”. Loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. Needless to say all the men laughed.
Tuesday as I woke up it was raining heavily. I was making all sorts of plans, call work and say I’m sick, start hitch hiking make myself a rain suit from refuse-bags… I went outside and saw the rain was coming from the side we were planning to go. I looked the other way and it was much clearer. So we decided to take an alternative route, trying to out-run the rain and maybe ride around it. So we set of for Mossel Bay at around nine o’clock.
After Mossel Bay we took the N2 back to Cape Town. We stopped at the Gouritsmond bridge to do some bridge jumping (similar to bungi jumping but not quite as scary) and I had to use the toilet from the previous nights Black Labels and steaks which had upset my stomach. Realizing it would not be a good idea to jump from a bridge with a stomach like mine I spotted a toilet and ran for it. Running into the toilet I dropped my gloves into the disinfectant on the floor… I was so glad to see the toilet I didn’t notice there was no toilet paper before it was to late. I found some old bank statements in my leathers and used these to do the necessary, but I was extremely uncomfortable until the next town where I could finally complete the necessary paperwork before my arse turned all crusty (sorry ladies but these are clinical facts).
It was wide open highway and we made some good time up to Heidelberg, where we had lunch. Here we also decided too take the scenic route, away from the N2 and through the mountains.This turned out to be an inspired decision and although we were riding dirt roads most of the time we went over a mountain pass where I’m certain no Marauder has ever been, the roads were very bad from the rain but we were fortunate not to fall over once. On the other side of the pass we saw spectacular snow tipped mountain peaks, it was also damn cold.
We were getting closer to the end of the trip. So we got on a good tar road and set off. We were going really fast as I was getting impatient as we lost a lot of time on the dirt roads and had to get to civilization before sunset. I’m afraid we passed some wonderful scenery where I didn’t stop to take pictures. Soon we were in Worcester where we had a plate of chips and some Coke before we went through the longest tunnel in the country, something not to be recommended if you’re on a bike as it was suffocating to say the least. We found we had to stop more often for butt breaks, our last stop was at an ostrich farm about 25 km from home where she enquired about buying ostrich feathers.
After the tunnel it was a 50 km ride and we were home. Saddle sore but happy!
I have to say one thing, hats of to my wife. If you don’t know what a stock Marauder seat can do to you believe me it’s enough to drive you nuts. She sat in that seat for hours on end and never complained (accept for my hair that kept on hitting her in the face but this was easily solved with an elastic band). We stopped often but as a biker I really cannot understand how you could sit for hours on the back of a bike with nothing to do but look at the back of some-one else’s head. She’ll probably say she only made it because she had my sexy body to hang on to and she’d be right off-course but still it was no mean feat. Even when her contact lens popped out and landed in the dirt she just picked it up, blew the dirt of and put it back!. How she made it I don’t know. She has her own bike but we didn’t want to ride with two bikes which now looking back would have been easier on her as well as given more luggage space as hers is more suited for touring. And her company was great, it was a well deserved break we both dearly needed. Now we only have some pictures and memories left, but we made it save and we said our thanks.
Tags: Rally Reports
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