Archive of BMW Motorrad Club Cape (2006 - 2019)

The train slowly left Cape Town station on a rainy, yet magical Saturday morning. Leana and I were on board the Premier Classe train to Johannesburg.

We have been looking forward to this special treat for many months now, not only to again experience the delight (and romance!) of travelling by train, but also to return to Stellenbosch on our BMW 1200GS motorcycle – a leisurely seven day trip that would take us on roads less travelled and to areas not often visited.

The bike was sent up by road transport to Johannesburg a few days before, to be delivered to Johannesburg station the Sunday morning upon our arrival. Our riding gear and personal belongings were in our compartment, ready for the return journey as we were sitting in the lounge, watching the beautiful Boland countryside sliding past us. The gentle rocking of the coach, the tiny bubbles in my glass of champagne and sharing this experience with the one that I love most, gave a new meaning to the expression ‘seventh heaven’.

Premier Classe train in the Boland 

Little did I know that in a few days’ time I would see the total opposite in our railway system to the utmost of luxury that I was experiencing at that moment. Klipplaat was a planned stop on our return journey…

We arrived in Johannesburg at around noon on the Sunday. The bike was on its way to be delivered about 15 minutes after our arrival. Leana and I must have been a strange sight emerging from the station building into the sunny and warm parking area dressed in our riding gear, helmets and soft luggage in hand, but without a motorcycle in sight. Thinking back, we must have resembled characters from the movies Robocop, Iron Man or, maybe more accurate, Ghostbusters.

The penny dropped when a nonchalant porter who was lying on a luggage trolley with his easy half closed asked in a leisurely manner: “Are you guys from Iceland?” I just giggled as no explanation on why we were strangely and warmly dressed would make any sense at that moment.

The bike arrived and was offloaded. We packed the panniers and fifteen minutes later we were riding through a Sunday afternoon silent, deserted and almost eerie Johannesburg CBD on the first leg of our trip – destination Bloemfontein.

We’ve wanted to take it easy on day one and travelled along the N1. Lovely road, expensive tollgates!

I grew up in the Free State and as we were travelling through familiar countryside, I remember reading the following from Nelson Mandela’s autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom:

“The province of the Orange Free State has always had a magical effect on me. With its dusty landscapes as far as the eye can see, the blue ceiling above, the endless stretches of yellow mealie fields, scrub and bushes, the Free State’s landscapes gladdens my heart no matter what my mood. When I am there I feel that nothing can shut me in, that my thoughts can roam as far and wide as the horizons.”

The hospitality of our friends Dawid and Elmien in Bloemfontein that night, further gladdened our hearts.

Monday saw us travelling in a Westerly direction to Koffiefontein. A combination of tar and gravel roads took us to Leana’s brother on a farm in the district. That night again our hearts were gladdened as we strengthened family ties around a superb supper with more meat on the table than what we would eat at home in one week!

Tuesday was a special day. It was Leana’s and my birthday! I reached the age where I now qualify for a senior citizen bank account and Leana reached the age of….well, the age that women reach after reaching a certain age the year before and the year before, and so on. I must point out, though, that Leana is not even close to the status of qualifying for senior citizen status. Only I have that honour.

Tuesday was thus a day of celebrating our two birthdays. We started off with coffee in Koffiefontein, had brunch in Fauresmith, traversed a good gravel road to Phillipolis where we had cooldrink and travelled a bad, potholed tar road via Colesberg to Venterstad where we had ice cream. From there we went to Burgersdorp where yet another family and birthday feast awaited us at Leana’s other brother. Again our hearts were gladdened that night and for the next two days as we stayed with Basie and Emmie in Burgersdorp and regularly visiting Leana’s mother in the local home for the aged.

Birthday brunch in Fauresmith

Ice cream in Venterstad

Pondering over the trip thus far, I felt sad about the deterioration that we saw in most of the small towns along the way. Infrastructure is falling apart, businesses have closed down and unemployment is obvious. Fauresmith, a tourist town that once boasted a unique railway line running along the middle of the main street, now doesn’t even have a bank, pharmacy or a doctor anymore. At the same time I felt encouraged when our hostess at the coffee shop in Fauresmith where we enjoyed brunch, told us about their efforts to make things work again. “The train no longer runs between Koffiefontein and Fauresmith”, she said. “They are lifting the railway line between the two towns and have already broken down our station. They now even want to lift the peculiar and almost historic railway track in the main street of the town. But we are fighting to prevent this from happening.”

Yes, I also felt encouraged. “If there are still people willing to fight for an unused, yet historic part of our railway heritage, then there is still hope for society”, I said to myself.

On the other hand, how does one comprehend the degeneration of our tarred roads to the extent that it has become dangerous to use some of them? How is it possible that a national asset such as this was allowed to get to a stage where even regular maintenance does not serve a purpose anymore? Why, if the people from Fauresmith are willing to put up a fight for their main street and its railway line, can we, the people from South Africa, not put up a fight for, amongst others, our roads and infrastructure? 

We headed off from Burgersdorp early Friday morning via the Middle Karoo with destination Willowmore. Again we travelled through small towns such as Steynsburg, Hofmeyr, Pearston and Jansenville that must have been bustling centres for farmers and town folk alike in years gone by, some of them now merely dusty and rundown settlements.

Cradock impressed us. It was much bigger than what I expected with a bustling vibe and wonderful old buildings in and around the town centre. We took time to explore the majestic NG Moederkerk building which was based on the design of St Martin-In-The-Fields on Trafalgar Square in London. This church which took four years to build was inaugurated in 1868. The story goes that the massive stonework that was used to build the church, was shipped in from overseas, landed in Port Elizabeth and then transported on ox wagons to Cradock. This must have been a major operation on non-existing roads at the time. “And then we complain about a few potholes in our current road network!”, I said to Leana.

Church in Cradock

From Cradock we travelled along the R377, a 90 km gravel road to Pearston. This road starts off with the Swaers Hoek Pass just outside Cradock, crosses the Klein Vis River at a spot that must be close to its origin, eventually spewing the traveller out high above a magnificent plain where layers of mountains disappear into the blue vastness for as far as the eye can see.

Although this was not the Free State, our hearts were again gladdened as we felt small in this almost unreal scene in front of us. Our Creator certainly must have spent special time and dedication when he crafted this part of the world.

Start of the Swaers Hoek Pass

Kein Vis River

Beautiful country

We’ve read about Klipplaat as we were planning our route and wanted to go and see this town, or what was left of it. We were not expecting much, but we were not prepared for the despair that we found there.

From Jansenville we initially set off on a tar road which later turned into an extremely bad gravel road. Alongside we could see the road works for building a new road and a few kilometres further we found ourselves on this brand new tar road leading to Klipplaat.

Perhaps it was the contrast of this new and modern road ending in a town that has gone dead, perhaps it was the surprise of seeing a community who once worked and lived in what used to be an important railway junction, but with nothing left to live for now after the closure of this railway facility, perhaps it was the absolute despair that we experienced as we rode into the town that made our hearts cringe. Perhaps it was not only one of these but all of it that drew a veil of silence over us as we observed once solid houses falling apart, yet people still living in it, and a once bustling railway station, now only consisting of unused and rusted railway lines.

I found the following about Klipplaat on a blog on the internet – Old Steam Locomotives in South Africa (http://steam-locomotives-south-africa.blogspot.com/2009/06/klipplaat-ec-railway-junction-sar-class.html)

Quote:
“In the heyday of railways in South Africa, Klipplaat was an important railway junction, being the point at which the main Cape Town to Port Elizabeth line branched off towards Graaff-Reinet. Sadly those days have passed and Klipplaat has become a quiet little place.
The railway from Uitenhage goes over a dusty plain before reaching the Eastern Cape town named Klipplaat. The Afrikaans name stems from the many vertical rocky formations in the area. Over the years the railway junction developed in an important railway centre, and the town grew with it. In 1979 dieselation caused many of the railway personnel to be relocated and several businesses in town had to close down. The town started to die. In 2001 the line to Graaff Reinet was also closed and Klipplaat was no more a junction to carry traffic to Middelburg and Noupoort across the Lootsberg pass. Subsequently the station was demolished by vandals - even the cables were dug out of the ground. The lonely Class 15AR rusting away just adds to the feeling of desolation.”
Unquote.

Klipplaat was not a heart gladdening experience.

House in Klipplaat

Railway lines - Klipplaat

End of the line

It was getting late and instead of taking the longer, but direct gravel road to Willowmore, we opted for the shorter stretch of gravel that joined the tar road from Kirkwood to Steytlerville. Again, this road was in a bad condition with a different type of corrugation that shook the whole bike almost out of control when riding over it. Maybe I was going too slowly, maybe I was just tired. But, after Klipplaat, I wasn’t in a mood to try new tricks with the GS, especially with my pillion on the back seat.

The road between Steytlerville and Willowmore consists of a single cement lane with broad gravel shoulders on either side. Vehicles from opposite directions are to pull off with the left wheels to allow room to pass one another. With motorcycles not having left wheels, we managed to stay on the cement while oncoming vehicles pulled off to let us go past. This helped me to maintain a good cruising speed. The sun was setting and I didn’t want to be on this road after dark. Wild animals on the road can be dangerous.

Road between Steytlerville and Willowmore

That evening over supper at The Willow Historical Guest House in Willowmore, Leana and I reflected on our experiences of the day. Klipplaat was the main discussion point.

Saturday morning saw us on our way home on Route 62 via Oudtshoorn, Barrydale and Robertson. Again the randomly placed advertising billboards in the middle of nowhere along this beautiful route, irritated me as it has done on so many occasions before. “There should be a law against this type of littering of the countryside”’ I said to myself as we negotiated a strong crosswind on the approach to Worcester.

Littering the countryside

It was mid-afternoon in the beautiful Boland when we were on the final stretch of our 2000 km trip. I was grateful for an experience that gladdened our hearts – an experience that started off with a journey by train, a celebration of two birthdays on the same day, again seeing friends and family and, above all, experiencing our beautiful country in the freedom that only a motorcycle can offer.

As we were approaching the end of our week-long journey, I could not help to think back about the railway line that took us to our first destination and about the roads that we’ve travelled on our way back, some in good condition, others falling apart. At the same time I also thought about a town that we visited where its people are still willing to put up a fight for their road and their railway line. But above all, my thoughts were with Klipplaat, a town that was once a bustling railway community and that has since died - a town with people still living there, but people that have reached the end of their line….