Archive of BMW Motorrad Club Cape (2006 - 2019)

Martin Harris from the Classic Motorcyle Club sent me this report.  It sounds like something to add to the bucket list.

 100 Passes Are Not Enough

Last year my son Peter and I went on a journey from Cape Town to Johannesburg via a total of sixty five mountain and river passes, visiting many places I had never been to in our own country. It created quite an interest and a bit of controversy from loyal riders of other makes of bikes as to what machines were best for such a trip. As soon as the dust had settled, I started planning the next trip. This would probably be a swansong, as I am not getting younger, and certain body parts are showing signs of wear. The plan was immediately mapped out, and the timing pencilled in for January this year. As luck would have it, Peter shattered his collarbone in a mountain biking accident in Namibia, was airlifted to Windhoek and subsequently to Johannesburg for surgery, having a plate installed in his shoulder. That put paid to the immediate plans, as any further mishap could have shattered his shoulder into shards that would be very difficult to repair.

Timing was then shifted to the only gap available, namely during the FIFA World Cup. We would be staying away from most host venues, so accommodation would not be at a premium, and we kitted ourselves for a winter ride. The 650GS Dakar was too light for this trip, and was replaced with a 1200GS to go with the 1150GS and all was set. The plan was to visit up to 130 passes, but this grand thought was knocked on the head immediately because of daylight time being so much shorter, and only very well equipped bikes with searchlights and extra anchors to avoid bushveld robots ridden by expert heroes who care to ride at night would be prepared to ride that way. As time went on, we were to find other limitations to what could realistically be accomplished.

After Steenkampsberg Pass and Jaap se Hoogte we found ourselves going to Mashishing – what used to be Lydenburg - and then to a magnificent winding Watervalsrivier Pass to Burgersfort. From there was the taxing Abel Erasmus series and Kaspersnek, the first of the dirt passes, Robbers Pass and Graskop in fading light. Kowyn’s Pass and Klipkraal Pass were next followed by Bergvliet, Kiepersol and Lugogoda. This was at the start of the World Cup, and the enthusiasm and participation from all, the flags and the vuvuzelas was an experience. I have not seen such a peacetime celebration since the end of World War II. Even the police were blowing vuvuzelas. We enjoyed Sudwala Pass and Schoemanskloof but then things got murky. Road signs were pitiful, and “towns” such as Montrose and Bambi were fiction. We had to dump some passes and head to Waterval Boven via Crossroads Pass for petrol. We were directed on to an unnamed pass serving the Nkomati chrome mine and populated with many heavy vehicles bringing their loads to civilisation. An interesting dirt pass called Celtis also winds up from the mine. Nelshoogte, Bothasnek, Hilltop and the dirt Uitkyk Pass with panoramic views of hills and mountains brought us to Nelspruit and world cup fever. Everyone was on a high and the whole place was pulsating.

On the way to Barberton, outside Nelspruit the 1200 stopped. Petrol starvation. While Peter went to the nearest phone (his battery was dead and I had forgotten to bring my cellphone), to organise a BMW tow-in, it wasn’t two minutes before Les Combrink stopped and offered help and a place to stay overnight. He had just left when Barefoot Whitey stopped and analysed the problem. He never wears shoes apparently, but maybe on his bike he does. Peter arrived back with Boet in a bakkie and trailer and so did Les with his trailer and some other folk. All helped load the 1200 to a safer place for BMW to collect from. I was overwhelmed by the cameraderie and concern for fellow bikers. Nelspruit must surely be the most biker friendly city in South Africa. Incidentally, all the people who stopped had BMW bikes. BMW Assist sent a lowbed and looked after the bike for the night. Through our contacts in Johannesburg, the problem was diagnosed as a fuel pump sensor, and BMW opened their facility the next morning- Saturday- and the part was replaced with an upgraded part. Plug the bike in to the computer, and the problem was confirmed, with the whole process complete in less than five minutes. Dieter, the workshop manager looked as if he was going to a midday party, with black trousers and what looked like a dress shirt. Maybe he was more like a surgeon without the mask. He didn’t get even his hands dirty in replacing the faulty part. The whole shop was immaculate, looking like a hospital theatre (private of course) and a showpiece of efficiency, although we were the only people there apart from sales and parts folk.

We continued via the game reserve housing Bouldersberg Pass, Pettigrew’s Nek, a long and technical Siayalongube Pass with its old gold mining workings halfway up the pass, and an incongruous sign near the top stating “no power boats allowed” But there is a delightful dam up there hidden from the crowd. This pass is about 20km long, with a gradient of 1:7, hairpins and has a variable gravel surface. Lots of logging activity on the southern side, and then Saddleback Pass to Barberton, Bothasnek and Nelshooghte again to Lochiel, where a most helpful young police captain and his girlfriend arranged accommodation for us in Amsterdam. We were forced to miss out a number of passes due to poor signposting and daylight ending just after 5 o’clock. Maybe we should update to a GPS rather than published maps that are not always keeping up with the times.

The road via Piet Retief Jantjieshoek to Volksrust saw the vegetation change from subtropical to grassland, with maize and forestry predominating and portents of windiness set to test us as we went south. Kwaggasnek gave us a taste of wind but Laing’s Nek and Botha’s Pass being tar were easy enough. Muller’s Pass was a different story with the bikes being blown around on narrow dirt and no barriers and some steep drops. Discretion became the better part of valour and after summiting we turned round to the relative safety of lower ground and abandoned the other border passes in favour of Biggarsberg and van Reenen to Harrismith both on tar. Oliviershoek was not overly demanding, fun to ride but in need of some maintenance because of potholes. A night in an A frame high in the berg set the seal on the cold weather ahead and the strong winds.

We took the N3 from near Estcourt to Howick to save daylight then on the great sweeps to Underberg via Bulwer. This is an underrated bit of fun as there was very little traffic. From there to Franklin one must exercise caution with local settlements dotted all over, but again great riding. There is a dirt link towards Cedarville, not too demanding with a relatively stable surface. Peter, however, got cross with me for reaching up to 150kph at times. The 1200 was so at home that it did not seem to be that speed, but he struggled to tail me on the 1150! Both bikes were on song through Matatiele to Mount Fletcher revelling in the long downhill sweeps to river crossings and up the other side. The side tread of the tyres was getting its full usage. By the time we reached Mount Fletcher it was getting dark. We bypassed the grotty hotel and found beautiful lodgings with a Black lady who runs a little overnight establishment, with the thickest duvets and blankets I have ever seen. We were as warm as toast and watched some World Cup soccer before falling asleep.

The next morning was the start of the cold weather in earnest. Sleet was falling as we geared up for Naudesnek, Lundin’s Nek, Barkly and the other dirt passes near the Lesotho border. We had gone about 10km at the start of Pitseng Pass when snow started falling. A quick council of war followed, and we decided it was foolhardy, even dangerous to continue, trying to contend with mud, slush and slippery corners we had not previously travelled, and used the R56 to Maclear where we had coffee and a weather report that all the passes were closed due to snow, and even the R56, a tarred road, was snowed under between Ugie and Elliot. Thank goodness for Howie da Explorer, who had raved about the unannounced new pass going south from Ugie! Going towards Langeni Pass the mountains and even the hills were blanketed with snow. There were many animals out in the bitter cold, and I hope they survived, sheltering behind rocks. Surprisingly, the pass itself, which is as Howie said, a masterpiece of engineering, was clear of snow and more importantly, ice. We did not stop at the sawmill at the bottom, and pressed on using the dirt road to Coghlan. The petrol stop at Engcobo proved to be a problem, because when I took the 1200 off the centre stand, my boot slipped out from under me on petrol generously left on the apron. The bike came to rest on a pump and damaged the screen and some other parts. Subsequent to this, the front brake locked up twice and this could not be fixed easily on the road. Peter bled the brakes twice but we had to reroute to Port Elizabeth and BMW assistance, via Queenstown. We found beautifully appointed and comfortable overnight lodgings with heaters, hot water and television for the soccer.

The next day we continued, stopping at Cathcart for the best pies in the country, and listened to the experience of 4x4 drivers who had ventured into the Katberg area and been stuck in deep snowdrifts. That meant a reroute again via Fort Cunynghame Heights to Kingwilliamstown and the safety of the N2, the Great Fish River cuttings and Grahamstown. Even Ecca Pass was closed. Howieson’s Poort took us into the relative warmth of Port Elizabeth and World Cup fever. The BMW people, in true style, bled the brakes on the 1200, no charge, as the brake fluid had become hygroscopic, and sent us on our way. It was a pleasure to buy a rainsuit from them but by that time I had lost the ride on the 1200 to Peter, who was raving about the power, handling and riding position. Since I had had a knee operation a week before, I found the riding position on the 1150 more comfortable, and didn’t mind swapping bikes.

Port Elizabeth has changed since I lived there; the new road system has altered the character of the centre city, but I suppose that is progress. There was evidence of a soccer match or two taking place in the city, but not as fervent as even the dorps in Mpumalanga. Development has favoured the Cape Road area, maybe like Sandton has taken over from Johannesburg city centre.

On to van Stadens Pass and Kareedouw Pass and along the old national road to Bloukrans Pass. The road is of course closed to traffic, authorities preferring travellers to use the new tolled bridge. There are some cave-ins along the pass which has taken on an eerie character. Small rockfalls litter the surface, and tree branches encroach the road. It looks abandoned and forlorn, and talk is that eventually nature will take over as the road becomes more dangerous. Fourwheelers should rather not explore this road in future but it is still a wonderful pass for bikes. As time goes by it will definitely become more dangerous, so use it at your peril before the fateful time. Grootrivier Pass is a different story, with major reconstruction taking place. There are many stretches where the surface has been excavated up to three metres deep for buttressing and reinforcing with mountains of concrete. To all intents, this pass is also closed at the moment, but with a future, as there is a village at the river mouth.

The turnoff past Keurbooms River revealed Wadraai Heights and onwards on dirt to Ouhoogte Pass, and the challenging duo of Diep Rivier and Prince Alfred’s Pass. Both were a bit muddy in some stretches, but nevertheless open for business. Not so Uniondale Poort, that had a locked gate barring access. Apparently it will be open soon after much of the road was washed away almost two years ago by the devastating power of the floods. Once again many tons of concrete will reinforce the roadway, hopefully to withstand the next ravage. Potjesberg Pass took us to Uniondale, where snow had covered the main road a week earlier. Retracing our steps Buffelshoogte and Garden of Eden Pass led us to Knysna and the lovely little passes on the old road to the Wilderness – Phantom, Homtini, Karatara, Hoogekraal and Hoekwil, then Kaaimans River Pass to George. The delight of the old Montagu Pass followed, with a loop onto Outeniqua followed by Great Brak River and the reopened Robinson Pass to Oudtshoorn for a stop at our favourite backpackers lodge. Fifteen passes was our bag for the day.

Next morning the news was negative regarding Swartberg. We teamed up with a group of six bikers who told us that Swartberg was still impassable, and one of their number had dropped his bike on ice, and they turned back. There were five guys and a lady who called herself a biker chick, but truly she was a biker in her own right, every bit as capable as her husband and the rest of the group. We joined up with this party, all on BMWs from Dakars to 800s and one 1200, and followed them through Huisrivier and on to Seven Weeks Poort. They carried on deeper into the dust but we did not follow them. A tremendous group of riders, on a slightly different mission from our own. We agreed to swap video footage of the two trips when we finally touched sides. At Ladismith we learned a bit about South African champion ports and what is adjudged to be the best brandy in world, emanating from Barrydale. We also replenished a bottle of Boplaas 2007 Cabernet, which is outstanding, even after being carried in the top box of a 1200GS. Garcia’s Pass to Riversdale was pure delight, much better going down than the up journey done previously. A quick trip to Barrydale over Tradouw Pass in search of the elusive brandy was not successful as it was Saturday and we arrived just after closing time. Off to Napier via Swellendam and Bredasdorp and a pleasant surprise awaited us.

We saw a bevy of girls on the front lawn of an outlying house, then two municipal workers tending the plants next to a branch road. Strange that they were still working after 5 o’clock on a Saturday, I thought, and then realised they were straw scarecrows! All along the main street were more dressed up to depict some of the businesses, a plumber on a loo, an optometrist with oversize spectacles, a tipsy group outside the bottlestore a guy with binoculars outside the estate agent, even a biker complete with leathers and helmet. The kit was still there the next morning… Napier may have many retirees living there, but they know how to party without breaking bones. There are many cottage industries active, even a winery to make the area productive. A party with my cousins at a marvellous restaurant rounded off the evening.

The curves on Akkedisberg Pass and the quietly challenging Shaws Mountain Pass led to Houwhoek and onward to Viljoens Pass and the wonderful Franschhoek Pass with its tight curves demanding concentration all the way, and back to Villiersdorp. While we consulted the map, another friendly biker on a 1200R stopped to offer advice. Roelie Janse van Rensburg, whose wife was cycling in the Naukluft and other places in Namibia, suggested we visit a little known pass in the Elandskloof and rode there to show us the way. A good road with some tight curves, and Roelie pointed out South Africa’s own Mount Fuji, covered in snow with just the summit visible between a gap in two closer mountains. What a find! Not content with showing us this masterpiece, he invited us to stay with him in Somerset West. With much sadness we had to decline as we still had go via Betty’s Bay and the stupendous but rather busy Clarence Drive with its glorious sweeps and tight bends on our way to die Ou Kaapse Weg, the only listed pass on the Cape Peninsula. Peter took us to Chapman’s Peak Drive which brought back memories of when I lived at Hout Bay in the early fifties. This route, which should certainly rate as a pass, has had to be rebuilt due to rock movements and is the only toll road in the country that recognises bikers, charging a lower rate than cars. One could easily skiet the toll, but morally it would be so wrong, and full marks to the city fathers of Cape Town for their thoughtfulness. From the crest of the Peak there was a most unusual sight of the whole of Hout Bay covered in dense fog, something I had never seen before during the time we lived in a cottage near the harbour all those years ago. Victoria Road from there to Camps Bay has always been a good set of curves, some straightened out for modern traffic, but still great fun. Interesting fact is this road was laid out by the younger Thomas Bain who was the engineer on so many of the great passes particularly in the Cape Province of old. Kloof Nek and Signal Hill beckoned and even in the early evening we could see Table Mountain lit up to add to the soccer World Cup spectacle. A well deserved rest at my brother’s home set us up for the next day.

We chose to bypass Helshoogte, which is nowhere as daunting as before the road was rerouted for today’s needs, and headed for one of our prizes – Bain’s Kloof. This is truly a masterpiece of engineering and is largely untouched (except for tarring) since the days of ox wagons and horse carts. Take it slowly to appreciate the beauty of the workmanship, but fast enough to keep the challenge. This is one of the Big Three tarred passes in my book.

A short run to Michell’s Pass with its new (for me) tar instead of the earlier concrete is a little gem, followed by the much grander Gydo Pass. We couldn’t resist a double on the unmarked Witzenberg Pass with its sometimes grotesque rock formations and no traffic before a long stretch of fertile fields of deciduous fruit trees and citrus groves between two mountain systems up to Buffelshoek Pass and Middelburg Pass. Some people class this as a single pass, but I feel it is worth two, as shown on most maps. What makes it difficult is the local gravel, made from often sharp and large stones, not much of a problem on four wheels, but taxing on two. It is quite hard but rewarding work, reverting to tar into Citrusdal. We tackled Witelskloof next and found that gradients and loose stones made riding almost an exercise in stupidity. Since we were not getting paid for it and we couldn’t waste daylight, we pressed on to Clanwilliam via another unnamed pass. What a pleasure to ride Pakhuis Pass from both sides. The rock formations in the area are so different from those in the Drakensberg and marvelling at them even at speed was enthralling. It is quite a long pass with good sweeps for scrubbing the edges of tyres to show you use the whole tread pattern. When you ride a pass in both directions, it’s like a different road. You don’t always remember how you took a corner in the first direction, and the approach and modus operandi is completely new to you the other way. Two for the price of one, you could say.

Don’t think that you are a long way from big city mod cons in the smaller towns. The local supermarket had a well known brand of chocolate at the same price as a macro so-called wholesaler in Johannesburg, and the cooked chicken legs we bought for our dinner later were giant size when compared to those at our local takeaways in Johannesburg. The road to our billet for the night was over Cederberg Pass, but the road itself was a patchwork of those big stones which are a feature of the topography and what seemed like drifts of soft sand intent on unseating an unsuspecting rider intent on beating darkness. All was fine with me until we were on the last 5km on a farm road, when I hit a patch of soft sand and put the 1150 down quite gently. Pride was the main hurt, but the value of the crashbars in protecting the tappet cover was demonstrated. With all the fun of the day we rode thirteen passes. In the morning we took off the bent bars, and saw that the rear tyre on the 1200 had worn quite suddenly. A board meeting rejected a quick return via Bloemfontein and we rerouted to Cape Town, with my brother’s warm beds and excellent culinary offerings. Peter decided to reduce tyre pressure to cope with the soft sand and loose gravel over Cederberg Pass and its companion from Algeria to the N7. He was concerned that there would still be a virtual sand dune over the Olifants River bridge making it a nightmare for the bikes, but it was not a problem. The moral of the story is to let some pressure out of your tyres, take it a bit slower and not to let the soft sand do the steering for you. It is perhaps better to ride on soft tyres once you are back on the tar rather than have full pressure on the capricious dirt.

We had missed out on four passes, but could pick up a couple of others we would have missed. Piekenierskloof and Versveld just south of Piketberg were the only interesting bits on the run down to Cape Town and a new tyre on the 1200. I must comment that the selection of tyres available showed that some distributors are not doing their job properly. No suitable Michelin or Metzeler rubber was available in the city. Cape Town must have had the world’s biggest vuvuzela that stretched what seemed to be a whole city block above the buildings in Strand Street. It was supposed to be sounded when a goal was scored and would probably have been louder than the noonday gun fired from Signal Hill or more ominous than the foghorn at Mouille Point Lighthouse. Cost of this monster was rumoured to be a million rand. Fans were everywhere, dressed in their favourite team’s regalia, and the street lights done to celebrate this great event for South Africa made the excitement so real you could touch it.

The next day Du Toits Kloof (not the coughing tunnel) and Hex River were lined up before the next stage. Hex River valley and De Doorns is a beautiful area, and one could see the different colours of leaves on the grape vines showing the range of cultivars planted, one field of browning green, one of russet, some reddish, yellows and orange all neatly laid out in blocks. With a bit of imagination you could taste the Shiraz, Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay as you rode by. From the Matroosberg turnoff the vegetation changed again mainly to Little Karoo scrub up to Rooihoogte and Burgers Passes with good high speed curves and down to the fruit growing valleys at Montagu. Cogman’s Kloof with its tunnel and fort commanding entry from the south , a flat river poort offers some good bends, but is otherwise unremarkable, followed by Op de Tradouw Pass leading us to Barrydale and a bottle of the best brandy in the world, according to the medals won. Quite surprising what can be produced by a co-op but with the right ingredients. Then through the Huisriver Pass again with its rockfall catching barriers and nets. Much better than finding unwelcome rocks just round the corner. Going towards Oudtshoorn we examined the rear tyre on the 1150 and figured it would not be wise to tackle Swartberg or similar roads without a replacement. It was quite remarkable how fast the rear tyres appear to wear after a certain point. Unfortunately it is not always possible to ride on the sides of the tyres - there are too many straight sections. This meant a quick trip to George as the only tyre available in Oudtshoorn was a knobbly, and that would not last the distance on tar. The choice in George was a Bridgestone Trailwing or nothing. In the end I am quite happy with the tyre, but it shows that marketing and distribution by other importers is below standard. While having the tyre fitted, we saw an interesting 1200GSA standing on the showroom floor, not for sale, but certainly a conversation stopper. It is owned by a Canadian who started out in Edmonton, sold his house and went touring. Though we did not meet him, the map on a pannier told his story. From what used to be his home base, he travelled north to Alaska, retraced his steps through Canada and rode from the USA West Coast to the East Coast, hopped over to Iceland, went through Norway and messed around western Europe, eastern Europe then toured extensively in the Middle East. Then down Africa, on a journey that was longer than “Long Way Down”, coming to George for a breather. Though there must have been a few dings on the way, the bike certainly didn’t show it and was obviously getting ready for an assault on Asia and /or Australia.

After the double extra trip via Outeniqua, we had the all clear to Swartberg Pass, via Schoemanspoort. This is always a highlight but with some nasty gusts of wind on the southern side of the pass to keep you honest. On the way down the other side is the old jail, a reminder of the convicts used to build the pass and indeed many others in the 1850s. A bit of snow was still around on the dirt, but did not cause any problems. Kareedouw Pass is not difficult, and leads to the racetrack corners of Meiringspoort. The road crosses the river that made the pass possible with no fewer than thirty two bridges. The mountains on each side have such twisted folds showing the dramatic forces of nature from millions of years ago, some folds turning almost a full circle. We stopped for petrol in Willowmore, and were surprised to find one petrol filling station but five bottle stores. Gives some idea of the relative importance of some facilities. Four minor passes, Ghwarriespoort, Buyspoort and Kaapsepoortjie and then Munnikspoort past Aberdeen were on the menu to Graaff Reinet, one of the most captivating towns in the country. There we discovered the delights of one of the local restaurants, serving fabulous meals at prices competitive with chain steakhouses, but with ambience thrown in.

Ouberg was again a must in a town surrounded by a national park – perhaps the only town so blessed in this country. On the way out we saw an enterprise called Faith Car Wash. We waited expectantly, but after a while realised that the bikes were no cleaner than before, so left the flock to their own devices. Over Goliatskraal se Hoogte, Naudes Pass and a small detour to the heights and turns on Wapadsberg to the slightly higher Lootsberg Pass with its warnings of snow and ice, fortunately mostly but not quite melted, another Rooihoogte to the plateau of the Great Karoo to Middelburg and onward to Hanover. There is a delightful shop that sells local productions from the cottage industry there. Peter had wanted a pair of handmade lambskin boots but was disappointed not to be able to find the right size. At least Hanover is not relying only on the speed cameras to produce revenue for the town!

A sterile stretch past Colesberg and over the Orange River towards the Gariep Dam, which stretches for miles, introduced us to the start of the deteriorating road conditions of the Eastern Free State. We needed petrol at Bethulie and found out why Patrick Mynhart left the town. History has passed Bethulie by; so did we. The road becomes more interesting from Zastron for two reasons. Firstly it gets closer to the mountains bordering Lesotho and more because of the pothole situation which becomes worse and ultimately dangerous for all road users. Granted, bikes with their smaller footprint can avoid most, even at a good speed, but the peril is other road users. Oncoming trucks and cars are also trying to find a surface that will not burst tyres and break suspension, so are happy to use the wrong side of the road to avoid potholes. Sometimes they come straight for you on the premise that a bike can nimbly somehow jump out of their way. What the Roads Department have done with funds that have been allocated to maintenance is an open question, even though there were some sporadic gangs of workmen doing what they could to fill in some holes more than 30 cm deep. The situation hardly improves all the way to Ficksburg, and the road should be avoided after sunset because of the danger. If one believes the R57 and R28 are free from potholes all the way to Frankfort and Villiers, think again. Fat Cats please note.

Ficksburg was our final overnight stop, and was a great choice. First we stopped at a pub run by a Russian lady called Maria in her warm and friendly bar, and immediately found a dozen bikers to yak to, and tell of our journey. I had a succulent lamb potjie that cost next to nothing but had the flavour of everything and warmed my insides well. Our billet, down the main road was so well appointed, even having imported Irish soap and each room was beautifully decorated. My room was called Lavender, with pictures, towels and bedding all in theme, and Peter’s, called Stonehouse was almost medieval in character, even with a cast iron bath mounted in the middle of the floor so you could watch television from the comfort of the bath. Not the sort of accommodation you would expect. Interestingly, the owner was an Australian lady judging from the MBA from Queensland University on the office wall. The infusion of foreign influences has helped to make Ficksburg more exciting and inviting.

Generaalsnek and Lichens Pass at Golden Gate were the final passes in our basket, and then was the somewhat bland trip via Reitz and yet more potholes on a road that is a main feeder to Bethlehem and should be in better condition. It was even almost welcome to be on the N3, paying the toll and not dodging the potholes any more.

We reached home after a journey of seventeen days and 8500km of sheer pleasure. Depending on how you view it, we travelled over 129 mountain passes and neks, river passes and poorts on our way to see some of the most magnificent terrain our great country has to offer. One has to admire the feats of pass building starting before the 1850s when there was no dynamite for blasting, no machines, and often convict labour for construction, pass sites being determined from rides on horseback to plot the most suitable path, to modern day techniques. The infrastructure of the country was greatly enhanced by these trade routes to the sea and the hinterland, without which, development would have been much slower. We were not able to travel many routes because of weather conditions, there was more ice and snow around than for many years, and daylight was a very restraining factor. The original plan was to visit each pass only once, taking a more circuitous path, but the weather saw to that one with snow falling in so many areas, and limited winter daylight. There were other surprises, though, and the start of the World Cup soccer tournament was a gratifying spectacle. All those folk who didn’t have a chance of being at a stadium or even watching matches on television were so involved in a unifying effort. Even in little dorps you could feel the excitement, with flags waving and the occasional vuvuzela bleating away. Maybe we need major events such as this and the 1994 elections to reinforce national unity. We must work on it.

We chose our bikes well with examples of almost traditional technology on the 1150GS, BMW’s last “analogue” bike and the more sophisticated 1200GS and the improvements that development brings. 70 000km on the clock was definitely no barrier to confidence on our trip. In fact four out of five mechanics felt that in many ways the reliable and bullet proof 1150GS was arguably a better machine in many respects. I could have sold the bike to three people! We also learned the value of reducing tyre pressures on difficult dirt roads. Good gravel surfaces do not present a problem, but then again surface coverings can change rapidly, such as we found in the Cederberg. This area can be more challenging than almost anywhere else.

Now that the adrenalin high of those 17 days has subsided, I realise just how much energy was needed for this trip. Recharging the batteries takes as long as the trip took!