Archive of BMW Motorrad Club Cape (2006 - 2019)

I would say I haven’t always had the perfect relationship with my younger brother Dale. As boys growing up on the farm in the Transkei we were very close and did just about everything together, like wrote off mom’s car when I was 12, shot the neighbor with a 22 rifle in the backside, because he gave us a hiding, because we painted his dog orange, because we were grounded, because we broke his sons arm….. You get the picture. A wonderful childhood filled with horses, rifles, camping, fishing, farming and motorcycles. Quite a few motorcycles in fact. 

When we moved to East London in 1983 or somewhere there about, we were suddenly in different schools and society demanded that we hang out in different groups (surfers have very strict guidelines on this) and we each made our own friends so to speak. I was also able to get my motorcycle license at 16 which made me mobile and not around home much. After school we studied, played music and whatever and I think we fought more than normal, once or twice physically, then away to the army in different directions and then I came to Cape Town and he went to London, where he still lives today and has recently made me a proud uncle of a beautiful little girl called Kayla. 

Since we both “grew up” we’ve rekindled our friendship, only we don’t get to spend too much time together as well, it’s a little far to go visit on a weekend. So when he announced plans to come and spend a week in Cape Town in March, I knew it was time for a bike trip, just the two of us. But about half way through all the planning, (believe me when there are wives, kids, our mom and my wife’s bike involved, it takes planning) my best mate in the world Marc (father of my God Child as well, another beautiful little girl called Madison) found out and said he was offended that he wasn’t included in a “brothers” trip, and so it jokingly became “Three brothers”. Three brothers, three bikes and three days. One GS1200 (Marc), one GS650 (Dale) and my 650 Dakar. 

The route chosen was a fairly simple one, Cape Town, Worcester, Robertson, Montagu, then dirt to the Buffelspoort campsite near Ladysmith to visit my mate Rudy, then through Ladysmith and the Seweweekspoort all the way round and back to Laingsburg, Matjiesfontein, then to Sutherland and back to Ceres across the Klein Karoo in three days. The main aim was to show Dale some of the Karoo and how it fitted into the areas he had visited on trips before in the Eastern Cape (he has a house in Plett) and the Cederberg. 

Saturday we spent checking the bikes and packing our belongings. I had to fit my new ABS switch and was more than a little peeved when I took the battery out to find half the cells were well below half, this a week after service and this item being ticked on the service check sheet. Anyway, by Saturday afternoon all bikes were ready and Dennis had very kindly dropped off the seat he had offered me for the trip as my wife has the cut away GS seat which is not so nice for us bigger blokes. How’s that for service.   

Sunday morning arrived with quite possibly the most perfect bike weather I have ever experienced, not a breath of wind, sunny and the heat wave we experienced recently was a thing of the past, just absolutely stunning.

 The Start in Tableveiw

We set off at about 09H30 and not ten minutes later were stopped in a road block on Plattekloof Road.  Our licenses were checked, Marc has a rather tatty copy of his under the seat and his number plate is way to small but he gets through with no hassle, Dale has a UK license which the cop studied for a long while before letting him through and I just flash my license and he lets me through. 

Du Toits Kloof Pass: My brother Dale 

The view from Du Toits

Du Toits Kloof Marc: Already on his phone

Then off up the N1 to the top of Du Toits Kloof Pass where we stop for some pictures and to admire the view. It’s very cold up here and Dale wants to open panniers to get his liner out but I tell him we will be warm as soon as we move off the mountain, which turned out to be correct. Down the other side, and we start getting bikes from the front, hundreds of them. All the way through Rawsonville and towards Nekkies we are just waving and greeting all the time as it turns out there was some sort of rally there over the weekend. We then took the Over Hex turn off and were fairly quickly through Robertson, and Ashton.  

I stop at the “tunnel” outside of Montagu to show Dale the English fort on the top, and Marc is just as interested as he says he has driven through here many time without even knowing there was a building above his head. It’s also really pretty just there and I wonder how many times I have sped past here without even looking around.

The Old English Fort near Montagu 

Very pretty around here

Just below the Fort: Is he getting taller than me

We then decide seeing as we didn’t really eat that morning; we should have a snack somewhere as Rudy has made arrangements for lunch for us later. We pull into a place called the Rambling Rose on the main street in Montagu. Now I haven’t had a pie in 17 weeks and I look at the highly recommended (by the waitress) chicken pie on the menu with both desire and a bit of a shock at the R47.00 price tag. I mean, how good can this pie be. All I can say is WOW. No really, it’s that good, and a really full plate of food with potato wedges, salads, veg and mushroom sauce. 

Now we have sort of stuffed up our lunch plans as we are so full, we leave Montagu and get on to the dirt for the first time. It’s a splendid road out of Montagu past Mont Eco and we stop for pictures at the top of Ouberg Pass. There are two Ouberg’s we will see on this trip. It’s stunning up here and with the bikes off its dead quiet except for the chirping of birds all around. I get that strange content feeling I get when I am out in the bush and everything just seems perfect. We set off along what is usually quite a boring long stretch of this road in a truck but which turns out to be very enjoyable on the bike. Past the Touws River turn off and on to where the road splits and we take a left to Ladysmith. Just past here we pass probably 15 other DS bikes heading back towards Cape Town and I wonder if they are Wild Dogs. No matter who they are they all take the time to wave. I do feel sorry for them though as they are headed home and we are just starting our adventure.

 Ouberg Pass near Montagu

Really pretty up here: Not those two

A little bit further down here I get a reminder about paying attention. I am trying to find a spot where we can stop where we can see the Anysberg, Touwsberg and Towerkop all at the same time but am looking around so much that I over cook a corner and do a bit of enduro riding a bit faster than I would have liked through the bush and back onto the road. I stop to let my heart get back to normal rhythm and find I am in the right spot so we have a break and take more pictures. Not far now I tell the guys, in fact I can show them where the farm is now. Between them two mountains in the distance.

 Dale near the Anysberg

Touwsberg with Towerkop in the distance: The farm lies just north of Touwsberg

The Anysberg

The last little stretch is most enjoyable, full of twisties, a small pass and good dirt road. We speed along and are soon turning right into the main Ladysmith road and about three kilometers later, left onto the Van Zyl’s Damme farm and the Buffelspoort campsite.

 Buffelspoort from above: The 4x4 route down there

Rudi is waiting for us when we arrive and Mariaan comes out to show us their addition to the family, baby Annika. After explaining why our lunch plans have sort of been messed up, we unpack and move our stuff into the quaint little house we have been allocated for the night. Very comfortable and well equipped without taking that farm feeling away.

 Our logings for the evening: Rudy, Marc and Dale

As soon as we change, open a beer and go outside we are accosted by mosquitoes, hundreds of them. Us “stadsjaapies” are slapping and squashing like mad but they don’t seem to bother Rudy at all, he seemingly just ignores them. We walk down to the end of the Buffelspoort and swim in the damme of Van Zyl’s Damme. The water is very refreshing (no mozzies)  and I explain to Marc and Dale about the legends surrounding the 7 poorts through the Klein Swartberg mountain range and how they tie up with the legend of Towerkop.

 Looking into the poort: The 4x4 route ends here

Van Zyls Damme: And ice cold Windhoek

Just out of the water: Nice and refreshed

After a swim we go back to the house and I go and beg for some anti mozzie cream from Mariaan which she thankfully has. We spend the rest of the afternoon relaxing, chatting, just catching up in general and enjoying the ice cold Windhoek Lagers Rudy has kindly organized for us. At about 17H00, the mosquitoes just vanish. I tell Rudy these Ladysmith mozzies are backwards but am nevertheless quite thankful they are gone. 

Rudy joins us for supper and in typical farmer (my wife just had a baby) fashion we each have about 5 kilograms of meat, some witblitz and nothing else. An experience I suppose, one which I might repeat in 2012 maybe. 

A good night’s sleep with thanks to our earplugs because one of us snores like a freight train and up early for breakfast, only we are all still trying to get over supper and so we leave the bacon and sausages and just make toast with our coffee. 

We pack, say our goodbyes to the Nel family and head off towards Ladysmith. After about 2 kilometers the road becomes tar and from there it is a very scenic ride into Ladysmith. I stop to get some photos where one can clearly see the big crack in the Towerkop. We refuel in Ladysmith and head towards the Seweweekspoort.

 The Towerkop near Ladysmith

It is wonderful driving through here so early in the morning as the sun casts the most unusual shadows everywhere and the early morning bush smells fantastic. As we are almost idling through here we get a wake up call as we discover 8 ton trucks also use this poort, even on a Monday morning. A Laingsburg Meat truck comes tearing around the one corner and leaves us spluttering in a cloud of dust. A little further along we are almost taken out by a bakkie cutting the corner and talking so much I doubt he even saw us. We stop at one of the picnic sites where there is a little thatch boma. Looking around I have to wonder who drives around the countryside with a can a spray paint in their car so they can spray-paint their bloody names onto rock faces everywhere they stop. I really hope one day I can catch someone doing this. That and the litter all over the place really make me angry.

 Seweweekspoort

A picnic site in the Seweweekspoort

Just making sure: Dale found the sign

On the other side of the poort we turn towards Laingsburg. This dirt road is nice to ride but for some reason there are always a few large stones lying in the road. It is the same road where I got my first smiley on my front rim on the Oudtshoorn ride with the BMW club and before I reach the tar I have my second, even now that I don’t deflate my front tyre below 1.8 bar. Dust from an oncoming bakkie obscures the view and wham. But it’s not as bad as the first which Jason from CPR assured me is nothing to worry about. Even the tar is enjoyable along the R323 into Laingsburg, beautiful passes and twisty roads through fantastic scenery.

 Marc onroute to Laingsburg

My new smiley: Two and counting

We stop just outside Laingsburg under some trees and regroup. We then drive into town and I pull next to Dale to show him the high water mark in the 81 flood. While we are parked there I watch Marc get to the main road and turn right, then shoot off up the hill. Dale says he thought we were going left, I say we are, Dale says he will go catch Marc to tell him he is going the wrong way and I tell him he hasn’t a hope of catching Marc, he is on a GS1200 and we are on little babies. Also, if we follow him, he will see our headlights and just keep going, there is nothing else we can do but wait until he notices we are not behind him. We move the bikes to under some trees right next to the road and sit down to wait. Just over 40 minutes later Marc comes back into town with “I thought we were going to the block house”. “How’s Beaufort” I ask him, doing the pissed off thing but actually relieved he is back from his “trip”.  

 Dale waiting: Getting warm

Drama over, we get back on the N1 and head for Matjiesfontein for lunch. The place is dead. We order lunch, one Bar Sandwich and two Karoo Curries, which arrive in 15 minutes and pose some questions as to the freshly made tag but were tasty enough. A quick beer and back onto the bikes. I did have some dirt planned between Matjiesfontein and Sutherland but now we are running very late so we decide just to wind it up the tar as we don’t want to be on the bikes all day.

 The old fashioned pub in Matjiesfontein: Quick lunch and beer

Enroute to Sutherland: Big Country

 The tar road between Matjiesfontein and Sutherland is both boring and interesting I suppose. It has nice bits at the beginning and the end and long straight stretches in between. But I love the open spaces and we stop once or twice just to take in how big this place actually is. We arrive in Sutherland at about 15H30, go straight to fill up and then report to the Galaxy where we are booked for the night. Betsie informs us that as there is no one in the Prokoreurs House, the three of us can stay there which is great as it is a massive old house. We go there, unpack, Marc goes to “town” to get a six pack and there we are, sitting on the stoop in the warm afternoon sun, drinking a beer, watching the dust devils come down the road and half expecting two gun slingers to walk out at each end of town to wait for the town church bell to ring. There is not a sound in the town the whole time we are sitting there.

The Prokoreurs House 

Prokoreurs Bath: These baths are not really comfortable

Betsie recommends the Perlman house for dinner and its little pub and she kindly books a table for us. What a nice place. Good home cooked food, generous portions, an entertaining evening with hosts Vic and Anne and we met Rudy who also owns a guest house in town. He is also full of stories. “Sutherland is so far behind the times” he says “when the world ends, you will still be able to come here for two weeks”. I’ve always joked you cannot take Marc anywhere and he will know someone and sure enough, he is old friends of Vic and Anne. After a good evening together we walk back to the house where I made the mistake of drinking two cups of coffee.

 Perlman House : Bar and good chow

When the cats away or left at home

We got to sign the wall: There till the next coat of paint

Now the first time we ever stayed here my wife, who is very into her ghost hunter type programs, told me that this house is gespook and in fact the hair stood on her arms as soon as she walked in. I can’t remember what my reply was as I don’t really subscribe to that kind of stuff but now here I am, lying wide awake at midnight listening to the house move and cool down. I definitely hear someone messing about in the kitchen and get up to go see who is making the racket. I can hear Marc sleeping in his room and as I am standing there in the passage, Dale, who is now not feeling so well, comes up behind me, also on his way to see what is going on in the kitchen. Enough said, we have a quick look, find nothing, talk about rats or something and I go back to an uneasy rest of the night. Make your own conclusions.  

By the next morning and last day of the trip, Dale is not well at all. I’ve been to Sutherland twice and both times someone in the party was not well, the first time it was my wife Natalie who had to tough it out on the bike back to Cape Town and the second time it was Boris from the BMW club who spent the rest of the day shivering in the back of my truck as I drove back up that time. All the same symptoms though, throwing up and a bad stomach bug. Marc and I have breakfast, Dale tries some fruit but it doesn’t stay inside for long. He’s a tough lad though and we say our goodbyes and head for just outside of town where we turn off onto the dirt and head towards the Ouberg pass and the Karoo.

 Ouberg Pass near Sutherland: Its about to get steeper

On top of the world: Or so it feels

About half way down: I could spend all day here

Same thing as the Seweweekspoort, early morning is a stunning time to ride this area and pass, albeit a little cold in our summer gear. The sun is just catching the Karoo below and makes for magnificent views. Even Dale perks up a little at the view. The pass itself I prefer to ride up than down but we all get down without incident and then are off across the Karoo. The Onder Wadriff Road is quiet bad at the moment and they must have had some heavy rains in the area as just about every dip has a ditch in it. I bottom the back shock a few times and Marc, unable to hoist the big 1200’s front wheel easily, makes a big flat spot in his rim on one of these.  

I was also going to take the little road I learned of when following Geoff Russell on my first Sutherland trip, but as it will add time to Dale’s discomfort I decide to stick to the main track and head for the R355 between Calvinia and Ceres. I am really worried about him now but he tells me he’ll manage. I know he’ll manage but I feel for him though as I have been there before and it’s not nice at all, and I was travelling in the truck, not on a bike. 

At one point, somewhere a while after where we meet the road to Tankwa Park, we come across  an old man sitting next to the road with his dog, which is running around freely. I almost make it just the old man, no dog, as does Dale. He doesn’t even react to the emergency braking, dust and barking dog, just sits there watching us. Quite weird. Where we had stopped just past him we take a break and I can show Dale where the Biedouw Valley lies from where we are and point out Sneeukop in the Cederberg from here as well.

 Sneeukop in the distance

We reach Ceres after the wonderful Theronsberg Pass where I think even Dale had some fun, refuel, can the plans for lunch and head through Mitchells Pass and on into Baines Kloof Pass. We stop twice in the pass, once for photo’s and once for Dale. It such a stunning place, until you stop and see how much litter lies just off the road. I cannot understand what makes someone throw a plastic bottle on the ground just meters from either his own vehicle or a bin. We push on down the other side, across the Durbanville Hills and home to Tableveiw. By now there is a bit of a nasty South Easter blowing but all we can focus on is getting home.

 Bains Kloof

It’s always nice getting home but more so this time as we have wives, moms, babies and animals waiting for us, I still say my staffie Havoc was the happiest to see me. Dale seems to get a whole lot better after being reunited with his young family and even manages to smile one last time for the end of trip photo. Then he disappears to bed, exhausted. I have a last beer with Marc, he goes home to his family, I change, unpack the bikes, put them away and sit on the couch with my wife, not five minutes and I too am fast asleep. The end of a brilliant three days on the bike.

Home at last: Especially for Dale 

For Dale and me, it was brilliant spending time together like the “old days” and it was really nice to have “other brother” Marc along. I think the Adventure Bike bug has bitten him and I now can’t wait until he fulfills his plans to come back to South Africa and Cape Town in particular, even though he has his heart set on an orange bike.

 I guess I will just have to feed him to the dawgs…………………………..