I have almost forgotten how much fun camping at a rally can be. It’s now Monday morning, I’m sitting here about to fall asleep any minute. My tummy is upset as I must have eaten something a day or two past it’s sell-by date somewhere during the weekend. My typing is even slower than usual but here’s what I can remember from the weekend we just had in Barrydale. I enjoyed it. As usual the best part was the riding… This is a combined (as opposed to joint) effort by Captain Crash and me because our attempts to decide who should write it by fart lighting and later arm wrestling were inconclusive.
Day one - BeetleJuice
As Friday came, I had to come into work for a few hours to keep the bosses happy. My stuff was packed at home, the bike was chain lubed and ready in the parking lot, ready to whisk me away from all this madness.
I have bought an Oxford tailpack and was, like any 12 year old would be, looking forward to using it. The bag surprised me with the amount of luggage it could swallow. I had all my clothes (2xT-shirts, 2xunderpants,3xsocks and pants) my sleeping bag, 2 bottles of Old Brown Sherry, a towel and toiletries in there as well as an inflatable mattress and it still closed relatively easily when I sat on it. It straps with velcro to the pillion seat and then ties up with bungee cords. It has cool reflective strips on the sides, a waterproof cover and can be converted into a backpack which I suspect would look rather funny. It also comes with a shoulder strap. The shoulder strap and waterproof cover stayed at home because it wasn’t going to rain. Or so I thought.
We planned to meet at the Winelands One Stop at 3. I left work by 12 and made it home to arrange some ladders and stuff what were needed on Saturday. It was very warm. I made it to the meeting point with minutes to spare and found Bobby sitting inside the restaurant eating lunch. I joined him and had some juice. Just after 3 we were finished and decided to wait for Kiwi and Michelle outside. We sat in the parking lot and waited. At around 10 past 3 I decided I’ll nip to the toilet quickly. At around 20 past I thought I’ll go and fill my bike up while we wait. At half past I went to buy some chocolates and sweets…
Kiwis ZX10 was in to have a new exhaust fitted and he’s borrowed a 1150 Adventure for the weekend. Apparently his boss, who lend him the bike thought that gave him authority to ask kiwi to run a last minute errant, causing them to be late. When they finally got there, around 4, we didn’t know how to sit anymore, the paving was hard and uncomfortable and it was HOT. So, we were glad to see them. Not p1ssed-off any more. They didn’t even get of the bike. Within seconds Bobby and I was helmeted and gloved up and ready to go. We took the N1 towards Worcester. Because time was now an issue we decided to go through the tunnel. I personally would have liked going over the pass because I’ve had some Pirelli Supercorsas fitted and those tyres are a revelation. I never knew what I was missing.
I always rode on Bridgestones. I liked the BT56’s - had them on all my “worth mentioning” bikes and when the BT56 on the R1 needed replacement earlier this year I had a BT54 put on at the rear because I decided I needed the mileage ans it was cheaper so made sense all round. The BT54 gave me 28000 km’s since February this year and was good from that point of view. But then one day, in a galaxy far far away, I saw Axel’s bike go over Houw Hoek with the fairing almost touching the tar and I was unable to keep up because my bike felt like it was going to throw me into a ditch any minute - the BT54 simply wasn’t made for hard cornering, or maybe I should say confident hard cornering. It’ll drag your sorry arse around the corner (probably) but I found it took a lot of nerve to keep it on it’s ear. And my sense of self preservation is as well developed as it is known (I’m a wuss). But those Pirellis make even me feel good. Dunno if they’re worth the dough because they’re already squared off after 2000 km’s. Ouch.
Anyway, so we took the tunnel which was suffocating in the heat - we got trapped behind some trucks and because you’re not allowed to overtake, we sat behind them for the entire ordeal. How long is that tunnel? 13k’s?. On the other side, we tucked in behind Kiwi who was now in the unfamiliar role of having the slowest bike, a role I suspect he didn’t really enjoy because he complained bitterly about the BM being gutless - although in fairness it was carrying a lot of luggage and a pillion. But it was labeled gutless compared to his bike and that was that. As we went through the mountains on the other side of the tunnel, Bobby and I was riding behind Kiwi and with all those panniers and stuff we couldn’t really see much. Then all of a sudden Kiwi nailed the GS’s front into the tar and Bobby and I almost rear-ended the GS. Just 200m up the road there were a laser speed trap. It wasn’t hidden or anything, the Venture was standing right next to the road with the cop sitting in the tailgate with his toy. I realised we’re all in deep shite now because there’s no way they could have missed us and we were all speeding and even though the GS was gutless it was capable of exceeding the speed limit - which we were doing off course. We all pulled in the reigns and waited with our fingers on the indicator switches for the cops to invite us for the inevitable (costly) roadside bollocking.
Nothing happened. As we rode past them Bobby held his hand up in an apologetic, “Yeah, we know officer, sorry and thanks you are the man. We wish you good 5ex tonight” kind of gesture and the cop just waved back saying “Enjoy it boys I know it was simply an oversight and you wouldn’t do it again. Be safe now you hear and God’s speed” Then Bobby crossed himself and Kiwi touched wood. I was wondering how on earth I didn’t see the vehicle standing there before it was too late. I decided Kiwi’s bike was blocking the view completely, so I excused myself.
After we passed the cops Bobby and I opened the throttles wide, safe in the knowledge there wouldn’t be any more traps and that road is just to good to ignore. We chickened out at around 220 when the bikes started wobbling around corners with all the tents and braai grids we had strapped to the backs. But fun. Needless to say we reached Worcester a while before Kiwi and Michelle - apparently he was fuming and frustrated for that part of the journey. We waited for them on the Robertson road, then rode the last 40 k’s or so to Robertson sedately in a group. Russell later said he enjoyed that part because the GS pulls strong and will hold a gear up and downhill. O and he liked the huge fuel tank and comfort - he wanted to ride back to Cape Town to prove his point. Michelle conceded it’s comfy but she also admitted she likes faster bikes. I think Russell was secretly smitten with the GS, he couldn’t stop talking about it the entire weekend. Even Friday night he went to the bike to switch the riding lights on to blind us where we were sitting on the mattress. The lights was so bright Bobby thought it was an alien space ship coming in for the landing to abduct him. Then Russell couldn’t stop talking about the light for the rest of the weekend.
In Robertson we stopped at a pub and it was very difficult to get Bobby out of there again. We had a couple (2) beers or so. It was really, really hot. Someone mentioned 38 C but I think he was drunk because it must have been waaaay hotter than that. Certainly felt like it in full leathers. There were some familiar faces here, some who didn’t appear to plan to ride the last part of the trip to Barrydale in a state that can be described as anything approaching sober. Or at all, for that matter. Bikes passed all the time and some pulled in, including a couple on a Triumph Rocket which draw a lot of attention.
When we left Robertson, we were in a mood to ride a bit. But there was a very strong wind howling through the Karoo and we rode into the teeth of it. My bike again wobbled around the corners when pushing on and we soon decided to take it easier. I had the steering damper wound up to max and we rode at around 180-190 most of the way. Even with the damper wound up the bike still got light in front often as the wind changed depending on whether you were on a hill or down in a valley. Then later I started getting cramps from fighting with the bike. I pulled over and had barely gotten off when Bobby flashed past, not bothering to stop, then some more bikes zipped past, some of whom we’ve just passed. I didn’t want to wait around until Kiwi and Michelle arrived because they would have had a field day with me hobbling around with sports bike cramps and they having to wait for me, so I got on the bike again, but it was way to soon and I had to ride with the cramps for a while until they went away. Also during this period I went through a mountain pass and I wasn’t happy about having to take it easy through there with my right leg stretched out and bouncing of the road around corners. Seemed like I was going to be denied every opportunity to enjoy my investment (the tyres).
I rode into Barrydale as the sun was going down. It was still very windy. I saw a police van parked just on the other side of the bridge that leads to the Tredouws Pass and Swellendam. Then as I came around the corner there was a road block as you enter the town. They had people out of minibus taxis and going through their stuff. I was waved down and pointed towards a policeman. He asked to see my drivers license, then walked around my bike and asked someone whether they got my number plate. I suppose the answer was affirmative because I was told to bugger off. I could see Bobby smoking a cigarette just opposite the garage so rode over and joined him to wait for Russell and Michelle.
After they went through the road block we crossed the road to the campsite, checked in and rode down a steep dirt embankment to join the Good Men who were keeping us some space. We parked the bikes and got off. The party was in full swing, some guys has been there a while. Bobby parked his ZX on the Good Men’s banner but no-one seemed to mind or maybe notice. We pitched our tent and settled in. Then I had to inflate my, er inflatable mattress and that caused me to loose consciousness a couple of times but that mattress came in handy as we sat on it virtually the entire weekend. You could fit about 4 people on there and providing they’re relative sober and their drinks not too full there was hardly and spillage when someone moved on the other side. Later that evening there were some shenanigans from the Taylors that threatened to make Russell the first Kiwi in space when Michelle threatened to jump onto the mattress.
Also providing us with hours worth of entertainment were some firewood that someone has thoughtfully strewn down between our tents. Off course everyone stumbled over the wood to the delight of those sitting around. Whenever someone headed to walk between the tents there was always a chorus of “Mind the wood” from more than one. Usually when the victim was already laying on his face. Mind the wood also came in handy when some of the couples decided it was bed time with Russell commenting on how a cat wouldn’t even be able to scratch it. We polished off the whiskey that served me so well in my hip flask at Axels wedding, drank some beer and then I took out a bottle of OBS I’ve brought along. That bottle of OBS was the last thing we would drank that evening. You could say it got the better of us. The food at the catering caravan was good. The wors rolls went down well and Bobby enjoyed the chicken burgers. Better than average rally food.
But there were some drunk people on the site, not that we were sober off-course but there’s always a couple that makes an impression with their, er condition. We saw people stumbling around, had to listen to more than one daft story, sometimes more than once. Some guys were lucky enough to see a cat fight. I saw some bikes being revved to within an inch of their lives and some burn-outs. But this being a relaxed rally, we went to bed around one. I woke up during the night and there was a guy snoring right next to me. Actually I could hear a lot of people snoring but this one was annoyingly close and I couldn’t sleep. I must have dozed off because next time I woke up it was after 7 but the snoring continued.
Day 2 - by Captain Crash
Saturday morning started with a bang and a headache from he1l but never the less after some painkillers we all decided breakfast will do nicely as we head off to the Pumpkin seed place up the road. Service is not big there but we knew ‘ that was it as myself , Beetlejuice , Kiwi and Michelle ordered our food. The waitress must have been a bit slow or perhaps stoned or something cause she kept on asking us about our order but managed to rock up with more or less the right stuff. Kiwi got hit twice by then by the waitress cause he was sitting the closest to her warpath. Halfway through breakfast Pierre rocked up on his Beemer and also keen to have some grub, only to get some coffee and a empty promise of breakfast. At that time a tour bus full of more hungry people stopped and the waitresses bailed on us , so Pierre decided to cut his losses and go have breakfast elsewhere.
Beetlejuice got that look on his face where it means something’s go to happen and we opted to go riding the Tradoux Pass and myself and Kiwi were eager to join. Well, that was a good idea and what a nice stretch of road with some nerve wrecking corners and short straights. A few minutes later it was all over by the shouting and there we sat next to the road talking cr6p
when Beetlejuice got that look again. Kiwi must have seen this coming and before we suggest more riding he uttered something about getting back to the campsite and so he left us there. Originally the plan was to ride to Swellendam but 200km later we arrived back at the campsite.
As we got to Swellendam our fuel just about had it and we filled up the bikes and went looking for a place to eat that Beetlejuice once saw in his last travels. In true IUB fashion he ordered coffee and a Danish caramel pancake where I settled for my frosty. I couldn’t believe our luck when we once again got served by a disgruntled waiter and like so very gay. From
there we rode to Riversdal where we eventually got hold of a map to see where the heck we were going. Beetlejuice cursed something about being a far way of the route and that we were to ride a long detour back but who cares?
Riversdal through Garcia pass ( most excellent indeed ) to Ladismith. I suggested that we should swop bikes for the ride back to Barrydale and so we did as I got on the R1. We got passed by a local driving a Mercedes but in our defense , we would have kicked his butt if we were riding our own bikes hahahahahah.
Back at the rally everybody was passed out all over the show and people’s heads sticking out of tents everywhere. We took the mattress and found a nice shady spot to work out the detailed plan of drinking, eating and sleeping for the remainder of the day. The wind picked up and some very dark clouds were noticed but ignored as we opened another bottle of OBS as we watched the handy members of the Good men motorcycle club braai-ing the meat.
Just our luck when the first spots of rain came down as the prize giving started but nobody wanted to miss that. In true Beaver rally the prize giving kicks of with Miss Beaver but believe me folks’ this was not for the faint hearted and I have not laughed this much in ages as the eager miss Beavers did their stuff. The first and foremost contestant out and about did the dance of a Voodoo Queen with flaming eyes and about 50 kg’s over weight. The crowd went silent at first and then we all burst out hosing ourselves as she did her stuff in a trance like state. Another hopefull took her top off at the first opportunity and the mob was so underwelmed with her assets that one shouted “Show us yer t1tts”. That cracked everybody up. The rest of the girls were to be well behaved and only to be provoked by the angry mob’s screams of “ wys jou muis “ but by that time both myself and Beetlejuice were on the floor and out of breath from laughter.
The main prize giving were to follow and as we pondered about heading back to the tent to dodge the rain when the dude on the stage called Beetlejuice’s name and walla’ he won a prize consisting of a fold up chair, bottle of wine, fist-aid goodies and a calendar of nude girls mmmmmm. A section of the crowd went ballistic every time Miss Beaver bend over to draw a name and it took us a while to figure out they could see down her top - so everybody moved over there.
We were all very pleased that someone we know actually won something at a rally and only to our amazement they called my name as well and I got a pair of very nice Rox gloves. As I went up to receive my prize Miss Beaver came over, put her tongue in my ear and whispered provocatively “You owe me for this.” Three times. I later found out she said that to all the boys. This called for celebration and off we went to dig out what was left of the booze in the tent and Beetlejuice just had to go set up his new camping chair after Kiwi’s refusal of parting with the panniers on the GS for chairs. Now armed with a chair, BeetleJuice refused to let the mattress be used for seating again and only gave in after lots of begging.
Later things got very quiet in Kiwi’s and Michelle’s tent again , so we all knew what was happening in all the tents around us with the rainy weather and all as we decided to call it a day and crashed as well when Beetlejuice decided to kick the lights out of me when he put his boot on and it slipped out of his hand. I was a bit dof at that stage so I didn’t much care for his giggling in the far side of the tent till the next morning when I realised I couldn’t feel my legs.
Day 3 - by BeetleJuice
Well, I’ll admit to feeling a bit homesick on Saturday afternoon. I wasn’t looking forward to spending another night in a tent with people snoring all around me. We’ve already done over 400km’s of which quite a lot were Saturday and I would have saddled up and headed home in a heartbeat if I could find a taker. I tried talking Bobby into the scheme (”just think we could be home for the rugby if we leave now”) but he called Rina and she denied his request (she said he still sounded to stressed and she doesn’t want him around. So, NO, he couldn’t come home). Well so we started drinking again on Saturday, the only solution we could come up with.
I woke up during the night and was glad when I saw the sun was coming up. Then I had a good look and saw it was a street light or something. There were still people laughing and talking all around the camp site so that meant it was still night. And we couldn’t leave. I don’t sleep a lot and having fallen asleep around 11 meant I was rested and couldn’t sleep again. I decided to go and take it leak but it’s been raining and I had to put my Sidi’s on for the walk. We shared a small tent and as I took my left Sidi by the top and tried to pull it on it slipped out of my hand and my foot delivered a bruising kick to poor Bobby’s shin, 20cm away. The poor bugger just grunted and turned on his other side leading me to believe it must be a regular occurrence at Casa Muller - being kicked while you sleep. Then off-course when I came back I couldn’t stop giggling about it, so couldn’t sleep. I asked him about it in the morning and he went: Oh, yeah what was that all about?
Anyway I must have fallen asleep again because when I came too Bobby was standing outside with a steaming cup of coffee, tapping his foot impatient. We quickly packed our stuff and folded the tent. With all the stuff we won my tail pack couldn’t take the inflatable mattress again. I admit to a slight darkening of the atmosphere when all those pent-up gasses in the mattress was released onto the unsuspecting rally goers. No amount of jumping, squeezing or swearing could get the last of the foul breath out and the thing just wouldn’t fit in anywhere so that disappeared into the top box of the Beemer..
With all the drinking and riding we’ve been doing my funds were running dangerously low. I had about half a tank of fuel in the bike and a rumpled R10 note in my wallet. Some kind souls took pity on me and bought me some beer the previous evening so there was no need for panic from my side apart from not being able to return the favour. But I let them all sit on my mattress (because I had a chair that I’ve won) the previous night. We decided to fill up in Barrydale - Bobby would sponsor me - and then I can draw money in Riviersonderend and give it back. It saved us from having to venture into the unknown metropolis of Barrydale to go and look for an ATM and was a good plan.
With the bikes loaded we waved fond goodbyes to our fellow campers, mostly hung over and not really giving a dam that we’re leaving but riding home always cheers me up. So we left the camp site at 6:20. The Tredouws pass were a different kettle off fish from the previous day. It was damp from the rain and the bikes were packed. We took it easy and then hit the N2 where we rode at a steady 160 past Swellendam.
At Riviersonderend I was able to draw some money, repay my debt to Bobby and treat him to a hearty breakfast (interest see). We filled up the bikes, called home to tell them we’re on the way and left again after we ate. The ride was uneventful. Few bikes were about. We didn’t ride too fast, or two slow. Our final stop was at Houw Hoek for a quick leak. We were both very cold not having had the brains to take even one sweater along. We were riding in T-shirts and leathers and it was cold and wet.
When I got home my bike has done 635km for the weekend, so our Saturday trip not only depleted my spending money but also doubled the distance we rode, but that trip was the highlight of the weekend, I really wouldn’t have been able to sit in that campsite the entire day.
Lastly I want to thank everyone for making the weekend one to remember, for sort of behaving themselves (not beating eachother or me up) and being a nice bunch of people. I think the Beaver might just become a regular. I saw a lot of people I haven’t seen in ages and it was great.
Tags: Rally Reports
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