The bike felt weird after that but they needed the extra fuel.

Well morning finally dawned. they brewed up and ate some rusks. Then went for a quick shower (hey, why not use what they paid for) then started breaking down the tent, packing their stuff and lashing it to the bikes. Beetlejuice’s bike needed some oil and they adjusted the chains and kicked various parts to check for things that needed tightening before it could fall off.

The bikes passed these rigorous inspections and after Axel swore to high heavens when he found out some scoundrel nicked the bag for his stretcher (yes, mister had a stretcher with him) he was suitably infuriated and in proper mood to kick life into the XL. Beetlejuice wasn’t particularly concerned by the departure of the stretcher bag as he didn’t have a stretcher and settled down to watch Axel’s tantrum over a cup of tea.

Tea finished Beetlejuice cleaned the mug and started the TT. By that time Axel and bike was warm enough to start without a choke and it wasn’t long before birds scattered as the XL burst into life. Axel was too exhausted to ride. Beetlejuice’s ass was almost to sore to sit on the seat as they looked for the road to Loeriesfontein. There was a dirt road (about 80 km’s

long) that they wanted to ride. they found the signs and started riding. Almost immediately they saw some of the scenery - or lack thereof - that they missed in the dusk the previous evening. It was an empty, dry and godforsaken part of the world.

The road was wide with 3 ruts in the white sand. Obviously the middle rut was shared by traffic in both directions and that was the one you wanted to ride in as it was nice and hard. Problem was once you’re in that rut it’s almost impossible to climb out of it without upsetting the tricky balance of the bike with rider and luggage, sending you in the gravel road version of a tank-slapper. It took some nerve to keep going in that rut while barrelling along on the road and approaching a blind corner or hill, not knowing whether you might be required to get of the rut in a hurry to avoid a truck or bakkie.

The road was straight as an arrow and boring as hell - not that hell would be boring and Beetlejuice for one intended not to find out, but their minds soon got wandering. Funny how you realize your ass is dead when you’re bored. When you’re gunning the motor and fighting sand and concentrating on staying on the bike you never notice. Beetlejuice remembers crossing a low water bridge with some water sending a beautiful arc of water into the sand as he was almost flat out when he hit it, then trying to get in front of a truck and having to overtake it while blinded by it’s dust. They kept going like this for as long as possible then found themselves stopping for stupid reasons – “hey lets take a photo of that spider” or “I want to have a look at that plant”.

This soon turned into another opportunity to acquire new skills and adding to their impressive range of rear wheel skidding manoeuvres. Beetlejuice slowed down on a bend so he could skid, forgetting Axel was riding in the same rut just behind him (and remember the TT didn’t have a brake light). When Beetlejuice reached the right speed he locked the rear wheel and skidded for a couple of meters, turning around with a sheepish grin only to be missed by a hairs breath by Axel who was fast asleep behind Beetlejuice and was doing his best to avoid hitting him after what he described as a “sudden stop”. they had a good laugh about that one, stood around for a while and then left again, only to stop (ok skid) to a halt 5 km further when they spotted a Quiver tree and were overcome by a desire to urinate against it. All the stopping just prolonged the agony and this day stood out as the most boring so far. But more was to come.

When they rode into Loeriesfontein Beetlejuice didn’t know which cheek to sit on and Axel was in a similar predicament. they wanted to spoil themselves with a good cup of coffee and spotted a sign for a coffee shop. But the shop was closed when they got there. Next to it was a café/take away type joint with a youth behind the counter and another playing noisy arcade games on a TV type thing. They offered to make them some coffee for R5 and confirmed that it was Ricoffee (cheap instant) coffee so they just ordered some saamies and sat outside on the stoep munching it. Beetlejuice took the map into the café enquiring about the road they wanted to take but the idiot working there had never heard about it. There was also an irritating woman (customer) that tried her best to convince them that there was in fact a tar road and there is no need to ride on gravel. She kept on saying that and Beetlejuice couldn’t help her right as her husband, standing next to her, was as big as a house (she wasn’t small either). Beetlejuice left disgusted and went to tell Axel they’re stuffed.

They had to pick up some petrol and stuff to eat so they saddled up and rode to the petrol station where Beetlejuice filled up his 15 L jerry can about 2/3 of the way and lashed it to his luggage. The bike felt weird after that but they needed the extra fuel as the next stretch was very long and there was nothing until Pofadder. Axel had his 15L jerry can filled with water. After the garage they went to the shop, Beetlejuice think it was another Spar and bought some pap and vienna sausages etc. Beetlejuice took the opportunity to ask some old timers about the road and they gave him directions. When they got to the road it was obvious the youngster never bothered to explore 2 km out of his town because it was a big road and well marked.

They had about 200 km of dirt roads to cover, fully laden to get to Pofadder and there was clearly no point in hanging about so they set off, riding uphill/downhill, uphill/downhill for miles and miles. If Beetlejuice thought the mornings ride was boring this was much, much worse and they knew exactly how far it was and how painfully slow their progress was.

They went past some salt pans, which were really an awesome sight, pity they didn’t take a picture of it. Then they rode and rode and rode. Stopping for tea along the way and later for lunch next to a deserted dam and the only trees in the world. And promptly got covered in flies that probably never saw a human being in their lives, not that they smelled like humans of-course. they ate some sweet corn and vienna sausages and stale, butter less bread, then transferred the fuel from the jerry can to the bikes. Axel ran onto reserve just before they stopped and Beetlejuice was glad to be rid of the extra weight on the back of the bike.

Then it was back on the bikes and ride, ride, ride until they started seeing signs that said Pofadder 50, Pofadder 40, Pofadder 30 etc. They rode into Pofadder at around 3 o’clock and it was very hot. They put in petrol and then found the off-sales where they bought some beer and strapped it to the bikes. Then they had a 10 km or so tar road to the Pella turn off where they planned to camp. Here they pulled out the cell phones and called their next of kin to let them know they’re still around, which was clever as there were no reception once they left the tar road between Pofadder and Aggenys. But Pella wasn’t far down the gravel road and before too long they found themselves in the middle of a town. Only it wasn’t what they expected, Beetlejuice expected a nice little oasis type town on the banks of the Orange river with green lawns, pubs to sip sundowners at and ample camping place, but there was no river in sight and the town didn’t look like much with naked kids and skinny dogs running around and creating havoc. They went down a road and met some locals who said there’s no place to camp and they’re probably looking for Klein Pella which is that way and there they went, following a road that soon disappeared as this area was obviously very popular with the local 4 x 4 guys and they clearly didn’t want to follow beaten paths as there were a staggering number of tracks going in every imaginable direction

Obviously it was time to ask someone the way and they did, one guy pointed them north, another west. They weren’t going anywhere and the sun was setting and they were tired, then they decided to see if they can find the river so they took a more northerly heading and as they came around a small hill they saw a neat little shack with a swept yard, neat little fence and kids playing while a woman was doing washing. It looked surreal but Beetlejuice rode over and she pointed them in the right direction to Klein Pella and added “Volg net die telefoonpale” (just follow the telephone poles). Well, if there ever was good advice that was it as it was easy to see the poles and it made choosing the right tracks a breeze. The poles took them right up to a gate and into Klein Pella which turned out to be a farm with camping facilities.

They were met by a very friendly woman that made them pay, almost apologetically explaining that it’s for the warm water in the new ablutions, R10 each! Equivalent to just over $1 at the time. She also sold them braai wood, T-bone steaks, mutton chops and sausages before handing them milk for their tea in a ceramic milk jug. Awesome lady. Awesome place and worth a visit. She even told them they’re welcome to swim in the pool!