Archive of BMW Motorrad Club Cape (2006 - 2019)

This is the “inside” of the inside story of the Blonde, the Virgin and the Locked Gate. The Virgin uncovers all. Some time back, in the days of the old forum, Charles, or shall I say Brenda, invited any willing members to help him/her find an off-road route from Swartland Engen to Fijnbosch Farme on top of Sun Mountain (“near” Aurora). Andy eagerly jumped at the opportunity and roped me in, having just completed his 1st off-road course with Leon. I, however, had just completed my 1st on-road course with Max. Miss Padlangs and I were just beginning to feel settled on the tar - so I had serious misgivings. At Engen Swartland, Andy and I met up with Charles and Brenda Buttercup. It was there that I learnt why Padlangs was called Padlangs, and my bike was then dubbed Miss Padlangs. Because neither of us had ever really been off-road, we were both called Virgins. We set off on tar, and eventually turned to the right somewhere (I have asked Andy to download his GPS track) so that I might one day find out exactly that “somewhere” was. It was on Charles’ map. We followed this and found a very sloshy off-road, which fortunately for me, was far too sloshy for Brenda’s liking. They turned around and headed back for the N7. (I picked my heart back out of the puddle it had dropped into) and followed. Another right turn somewhere, which led to a strange 1-horse-dorp and looked like it was going nowhere, crossed the N7 again and headed on the left turn at that junction. After a bit of tar, we finally hit the dirt: Stop to deflate the tyres. My heart is now seriously trying to burst my Michelin Suit. It very quickly turned into dirt and Miss Padlangs and I had our 1st deflating. I was told that I would now have to stand up. Advice was patiently given on handling mud patches and puddles by Charles. And off we went. Good dirt still: I didn't realise that this was actually Good Dirt. It just seemed like Neverending Dirt to me. And the silly thing was that the slower I went, the longer it got, not the safer it got - but that's hindsight for you! Very soon I found my hamstrings burning, the “webbing” on my hands getting raw. I hit my first muddy patch (we found out that there’d recently been an exceptional amount of rain in along the West Coast, which had led to quite a bit of flooding), and then the next and the next. The puddles got larger and longer. There was no way around them. Some of the drier dirt became rutted. Other areas rocky. Miss Padlangs negotiating her 1st big puddle: I was too scared, so I let Andy take her through. I figured she needed a bit of manhandling. All this I did at a very slow pace. My hamstrings killing me, I sat down, only receive a blast of bum waggling, which Miss Padlangs was giving me. She felt like a rodeo horse. I reckon she was as scared as me. Eventually, I was too tired too stand, too terrified to sit down or too stop! I couldn’t have cared less how slowly I was going, I was just concentrating on surviving! Somehow we ended up in a farmyard, where the farmer kindly explained the correct route to us. Not sure if we really knew which route we wanted, but if it was heading in the correct general direction and it was dirt, then that was it! Farmyard scene: I'd say we're a little lost here. We didn't know whether the farmer would shoot us, set his dogs on us. But he turned out to be very helpful. Fortunately, Charles and Brenda stopped to have some jelly babies and a drink of water, while I rushed off into the only bush at the side of the road. And then we were off again. Bush stop and hamstring break for me: Charles opened his bottomless packet of jellybabies! Some sheep overtook me on the way. Miss Padlangs was offended, so we decided to catch up with them and give them a run for their wool. Bopeep?: At one point, some sheep decided to take the lead. Were Miss Padlangs and I going that slowly? By the way, they took the lead on a more difficult section on the West Coast trip, but Andy was too busy negotiating the terrain to take photos. After eternity and lots of teeth-rattling, my eyeballs vibrating, we hit Darling full of mud. Darling and tar road finally in the near distance for me: What a relief! Or so I thought at the time - relief is relative, though, I found out later. We stopped and had lunch, when the waitress finally noticed us… and then got back on the road again. We headed for the N7, but turned right onto the R-somethingorother and continued down this road, which was very wide, very red and very smooth. I was just thinking “we can do this” and did not notice that the road was gradually narrowing. As it narrowed, puddles and ruts started appearing. I discovered that if you didn’t get into a rut and stay in it, you were bound to see your butt! While the road stayed red, it was muddy and sloshy and rutty. When it got lighter, it stayed muddy (fine silt) and got sandier…and sandier….and sandier. Back on the dirt after lunch: The weather was getting progressively worse, and the roads were getting progressively wetter, more full of potholes. The road gets progressively narrower: It also changed composition - for finer mud and sand - and the dreaded ruts, just dry or wet enough to tip you over. It got so sandy and muddy and rutty: That Miss Padlangs told me she was going off the off-road. I mean, why sukkel? We had no male egos between the two of us. Well, eventually Miss Padlangs tried to climb out of a big rut and we toppled over. Andy helped us get going again. By now the weather had started to cloud and get colder. It had gotten a bit darker, even though it was still about 3pm. Brenda taking Charles through some more difficult terrain: By now I realised what Good Dirt was. Miss Padlangs had no option but to follow: Knowing now that the road back would be just as bad. Sitting down is much more terrifying, as your bum waggles around all the time. We started opening and closing farm gates. Although the GPS was showing us we were still on the R-somethingorother, we were beginning to have our doubts. We entered a series of closed gates: We were feeling less and less sure about this route. But the GPS told us we WERE on the correct road. Andy phoned a number of a farm owner at one of the gates and left a message. We had no option but to continue, as the road back was long and bad; also, the GPS showed us that Hopefield was just a few kms away… The road T-junctioned and we turned right, and ended up paddling through thick sand and very deep ruts. We passed a signboard with a phone number on it: So Andy phoned the number, but got an answering machine. He left a message. We decided to continue, not knowing if we were on a public road, or a farm road and tresspassing! Some farmers have huge shotguns you know. At this point the sand started to get deeper: Quite a few more gates later, we should have realised that things were not quite right. Andy's GPS, however, was telling us we were on the right path... The "shrubbery" started to get thicker: And the road got narrower, sandier and the "ruts" were starting to become nasty. Oops, this road/path lead to nowhere: Andy's bike fell over A short patch of hard sand: With many misleading paths/roads all over, all ending in deep, soft sand. Charles and I follow Andy, who had the GPS: By now, we were starting to split up and using the two-way radio. And then it got very deep We arrive at a very locked gate: You could literally leave your bike standing in its tracks, and walk off it. We got to a very locked gate. The only key that would have worked would have been a boltcutter. A leatherman would not have done the trick. The GPS was still telling us it was right. Andy turned back and went to investigate. When he didn’t return, Charles & I also “turned around” – this was achieved by pushing and grunting, and then getting back into the rut again. We found Andy, who had just picked up his bike for the nth time and was exhausted. We “followed” the left turn at the T-junction, and quickly found that it led to nowhere – more bush, ruts and sand. All of us were exhausted by now. Heading back to the T-junction, Andy received a return call from the farmer, who said he would meet us at the locked gate. We returned, huffing and puffing and sweating, to the locked gate and waited. A short while later, 2 4x4s arrived with 2 families, who turned out to be weekend farmers, and sadly did not have a key for the gate. They informed us that it belonged to another farmer, who was not really supposed to lock the public road. Also, beyond the gate, lay lots of thorns. The people whom we'd contacted earlier, arrive to "help": They had no key. A discussion was had on possible solutions: None were really viable unless we could get through the locked gate. And then the friendly people remembered there were lots of horrible thorns along that route. They led us back to their farm, and then one of the farmers kindly led us (over the same road again!) to the N7 and unlocked the exit gate there for us. We bade him goodbye and grateful thanks and headed for the next fuel stop on the N7 just outside Velddrif. We say goodbye at the gate which did have an owner with a key: The friendly people took us back along the same route and got us onto the N7 again. It was by now 7pm. Various plans were being made. Exhaustion took over and we overnighted with my sister-in-law in Velddrif. She was very happy to have some company as my brother is away at sea for long stretches in the Antarctic. An unplanned stopover in Velddrift: Being quite late already, we asked my sister-in-law if we could all have an unscheduled sleepover at their home in Velddrift. My brother was still in the Antartic, so Maria was very glad to have company. She very kindly made up 3 beds for us. Next morning early, we headed for Aurora and Sun Mountain, planning to have breakfast with Julie and friends. (She was not too pleased with us at that stage, I gather). Next morning early, we woke the 3 bikes up: They had spent the night together in the garage. 2 girls and 1 guy - I wonder what they got up to? I knew that there was 15kms of tough dirt ahead of me, which arrived very quickly. At some points I nearly stalled with fright, and I could hear Andy shouting “Power up, look up, open up!” Hey, I made it through. I had to stand all the way – sitting was agony. Eventually, we were on top of Sun Mountain and entering Fijnbosch Farme’s gate – which is just a locked gate at the side of the road, with no fences attached to it. I believe it was all burnt down. We headed for Aurora on tar: We were determined to get to Sun Mountain and have breakfast there. Aurora Mountains on your right in the distance: We turned off and stopped - can't remember why though... Very welcome coffee and breakfast was had, while Julie and everyone else went for a walk. We joined them in the Bushman cave later on. What a fantastically stunning farm! Finally at the top of Sun Mountain: There'd been no chance to take photos of the actual 15kms of Tricky Dirt. But Charles, being much faster and more familiar with the route, managed to take a few. So perhaps he'll post some of these? Brenda and Andy's GSA: Parked together in the grass. My bike parked just off the off road again: By that time I'd had enough of Tricky Dirt. And this was as far as Miss Padlangs and I were prepared to go! A walk after breakfast: After a leisurely breakfast, Charles kindly took us on a tour of his farm. I was feeling quite battered (Charles calls it shattered) by then. The view from up there was simply stunning: You feel like you own the whole of the West Coast. Some interesting rock formations We met up with Charles' family and friends: Somewhere along the way in a cave and had some good conversations amongst the bushman paintings there. The Cave Some nice little streams in between the rocks Then we returned for some more grub! And in the back of my mind, I was planning my next panic attack – the 15kms down the mountain again. I delayed it as long as possible, but when Charles and Andy donned their boots again, I realized there was no escape…. With vibrating eyeballs, double vision, some loose fillings, I had arrived at the bottom of the mountain – my adrenalin completely exhausted. Andy stopped us for a quick geocache, which he never found, while Charles single-handedly pumped up all 3 bikes. I gather he was not keen on geocaching! We headed on “Beautiful” tar back to Piketberg and headed for home, bidding each other good bye somewhere along the way. Andy and I, hearing of bad rain and storms in Gordon’s Bay, did another detour and spent the night at our family hut in Bainskloof. And soon we were on our way home again: Again, we were too busy to take photos of the 15kms of downhill Sun Mountain. Somehow Charles has a few! Well, all I can tell you is that Miss Padlangs and I ain’t virgins any more. It took 2 bikewashes to clean her properly. Although we still have a long way to become shady ladies with reputations (as shady as Brenda), we are fast heading in that direction…. Home at last: and some serious bike-washing begins!