Archive of BMW Motorrad Club Cape (2006 - 2019)

Bucket List

A solo trip and a visit to the Karoo farmers that shared my school boarding years have been in my sights for a long time. This years’ annual OBU get-together near De Aar seemed the perfect opportunity.  A couple of ronds worth of new toys, including a Garmin to replace my atlas photostats, new back tyre and a qualified mechanical once over, were the least I could do to ensure I was going to be a safe as possible.

I planned my 1800km route to the n^th degree over 6 days into the GPS and informed my family of where I had booked to stay each nite.

YR.NO and Foreca both advised a window between two cold fronts in CT and all day rain in Ceres on the morning I planned to leave. So with my Vuka rain jacket and CUM rain pants over my ATGATT, I saddled up and left Dodge in my dust (car fumes actually – thanks for the saying Andyman) to great tunes like Leader of the Pack and King of the Road.

My first day was to cover 460km to Fraserburg, which included the 180km to the end of the tar after Ceres. Easy to do and all day to do it in. Just love Bains Kloof so ambled up the pass without encountering any rain.

I rode through about 3 raindrops up Mitchells Pass to arrive to mostly clear skies in Ceres. I was dreading the wet Karoo roads but was pleasantly surprised to find them quite dry and well compacted. Rode the R356 to just south of Sutherland and then took a lunch break once I was back on the dirt on the other side of the town. It was a magnificent day. The spent rainclouds scattered in the sky created wonderful light on the washed clean landscape.

A road junction a little further on sported a very effective sleep over sign. I was going off to the right so didn’t get to see the establishment.

I had been told about the picturesque Postal Route to Fraserburg so included this in my route plan.

An ingenious farmers’ entrance sign.

The road was indeed pretty and I took my time ambling along. I needed to smell the Karoo air and had turned off the music once on the dirt to fully enjoy the experience. At some stage I drove over a puzzling thick piece of rope stretched across the road. There was no one anywhere nearby so thought it might have been some kids playing silly buggers who had left it there when they got bored.

I crossed the first wet rivers of the day on this section of road. I stopped in front of each one to have a good look at the best line and obeyed the ‘stand up, look up’ rule when driving over. One was deeper than I expected and I had water splashing over my windscreen onto my visor. I took them a little more carefully after that even though the road was concreted over at each one. Until …..

Tumbling Grandpa

With only 30km still to go to Fraserburg I rounded a left hand bend and just drove over the next crossing slowly as there was less than a centimetre of water on the concrete. Once through the water and back on the dry concrete road the back wheel tried to overtake me and I went down hard on my left side. The last sight I had before my head hit the ground was that there was a white concrete block directly in my line of travel.

I must have blacked out momentarily as I found myself lying face down on the side of the road with Ezzy phut-phuttering away close by when I woke. I battled to control my breathing for a couple of minutes before trying to get up. My guardian Angel was certainly with me that day as I had stopped sliding along the ground a good metre before the white concrete block – phew! I had fallen on the left side of my abdomen, my left forearm and my face.

An innocent looking stream – the Karee river. Passop!

So what happened?

The river crossing had grown a slimy layer of algae due to the slow moving shallow water. I know how dangerous this can be so I had driven through at a constant speed. I did not realise however that my tyre was now covered with algae and offered no traction whatsoever. I must have opened up slightly as there was a rise ahead. This is when my back wheel spun away from under me. You can see the wider tyre tracks about a metre after the water.

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See the path my helmet made in the softer verge in the left

What did I do right?

• My visor was closed
• You can see my constant speed through the water on this Log

What did I do wrong?

• I did not  slow down enough or stop to have time to assess the crossing properly.
• I under estimated the danger of the slime.
• I did not stand. I would have had a much better chance of controlling the slide if I had been standing.
• I should have continued at the constant speed and straight line for at least another 5m, or until off the concrete, before opening up.

Platteland Angels

After switching the bike off, removing my ATTGAT and taking the luggage off, I tried to lift the bike. No way, Jose! A pain shot up my left side and that when I realised I had done a little more than superficial damage. In fact there wasn’t any superficial damage – even the Vuka rainsuit survived without a tear.

So I sat and waited for a car to come by. The fact that I had not seen any cars on this stretch of road should have indicated to me that this was a waste of time.

After half an hour or so I stowed the gear I was going to leave and start trudging up the road toward a farmhouse in the distance.

 A knock on the kombuis door brought the farmer’s wife, Mareza, who warmly welcomed me inside. I must have looked quite a sight as I was still in my full riding gear (in case there was no one home and I’d have to spend the night on the stoep) and pouring with sweat.

It didn’t take long to establish that neither of us could speak the others language properly, so we just lapsed into our mother tongue and communicated perfectly. Within a minute I was invited to spend the night – such amazing hospitality.

After a refreshing cup of tea, I asked if there were any men on the farm who could help me lift the bike. The only one was Tjarlie, the Jagter. Why do you need a hunter on a farm, I asked? To catch the Rooikatte(Lynx) and Jackals that kill the sheep, I was told.

So off we went in the bakkie to fetch Tjarlie. Tjarlie weighed no more than 50kg and was as thin as a rake. After showing him the technique of lifting the bike, he had it up within a second. I couldn’t believe it. He lifted it as if it was a bicycle. Never judge a book by its cover they say!

Ezzy only suffered superficial damage and I was able to ride her back to the farmhouse. The plastic BMW top box which I’d bolted to the bike was still intact and hadn’t even burst open.

The farmer, Pieter le Roux, arrived back shortly afterwards with, his wife’s father and the three kids. We had a lekker gesels and it was firmly established that I was in no state to ride the last 30km to Fraserburg and that I was going to spend the night with them. Such warm wonderful people. We chatted about all sorts of things including the Karee river crossing. Apparently, many bikers have fallen there, so my accident was by no means unique.

After a restless night, I decided that my ride was over. There was no way that I could cope with the 400km dirt road trip to my next overnight stop. Mareza’s dad, Wills, offered me a lift to Worcester as he was planning to drive back home to Graafwater the next day and leaving a day earlier made no difference to him. What a wonderful man. He was going to drive 100km out of his way just to help me.

I arranged for Ezzy to be collected by the insurance and after warm goodbyes we were on our way.

We crossed another rope on the way to Fraserburg and I told Wills about the one I’d seen the previous day. He explained that rope was covered in oil and according to folklore this stopped the Jakkals from crossing over, thus containing them in an area for easier hunting.

Wendy came up to Worcester to fetch me and we were home by 5pm.

Off to the doctor and x-rays the next day. Diagnosis – 3 broken ribs – the first bones I’ve ever broken. No wonder I had been so useless. Tramacet is keeping me in a marvellous kite-like daze. A wheeled zimmer frame is helping me to get around and a long pair of braai tongs help me pick things up below knee height. Have been told it will take about 4 weeks to heal.

So all in all, not the story I was hoping to tell you about but a fantastic adventure none the less. And I’ve made some great new friends in Pieter, Mareza, Oupa Wills, PJ, Jeanli and LeMari.