Up until this trip, we had only ever done short distances on dirt roads on our sportsters. The truth is they are relatively heavy bikes and the suspension has a lot of work to do, add our considerable meaty bulk to that and bottoming out the front fork can happen very easily on an uneven dirt road. Honestly, there are far better choices for when your two-wheel adventure takes you off road, but these choices are all about pragmatism, practicality, in short, they’re boring.
Life is about challenges, and while braving a gravel road can hardly be described as the height of adversity, 160km of it would surely send a bit of a shiver down any Harley owners’ spine. And so, on a beautiful Saturday morning last Spring myself, Dom on his Thunder Iron sporty and Ross in our ever faithful support vehicle, set out with a place of epic beauty in mind, the Cederberg Wilderness Area.
The destination was a resort by the name of Meitjiesrivier, with fancy eco-chalets, campsites and a microbrewery, right in the middle of the long dirt track the runs North to South, or vice versa, with the mountain ridges rising to the heavens to the east and west, all the way. Quite literally, to us at least, the ultimate destination.
The ride up couldn’t have been better, only a short smattering of rain to wet our Levi’s and cool us down for the intense heat we encountered as we began to climb up into the mountains. A stop in Ceres for Ross’s daily flat white and some supplies for dinner; pork sausages and wasabi nuts. A stop in Prince Alfred Hamlet for some top tier droewords and chilli bites and then we turned onto the dirt route the dissects the Cederberg mountain range.
The first leg of this weekend getaway was a mild 263 kilometers, of which the last 78 were on dirt. We enjoyed a much needed stop at the Cederburg Oasis (a literal oasis in the otherwise dry bush of the mountains) about 60 kilo’s in for a toasted ground beef and cheddar, which was an absolute treat after discovering the town of Die Dorp Op Die Berg offered absolutely nothing in the way of roadside grub.
Meitjiesrivier also turned out to be a step above expectations, with a small shop and restaurant, offering all the necessities in case you forgot something, like wood… to make fire… to be able to cook your pork sausages.
We pitched camp next to the river and spent the afternoon frolicking in the river pools, drinking some fairly good craft beer, and shooting the breeze until late in the night. The next morning after some swearing and things said that can’t be taken back, we were on a 5km hiking trail to a small waterfall. Very much worth it. You can launch yourself off a rock precipice into the crystal clear pool about five meters below. Spirits considerably improved, the five kilo’s back took us literally half the time.
I had a bee in my bonnet to put the next 80 kilometers of dirt road north to Clanwilliam behind me with much haste. Unfortunately, even at 70km/h, at which point you do feel like you’re tempting fate, that’s still well over an hour. Given the option to do it again (which we fully intend to some day soon), I recommend taking a break every 30 kilo’s or so, eat a sandwich and have a wee in the bushes. Don’t push the dirt roads, enjoy where you are, away from it all.
Near the end of the dirt road, the reason why we suffered it going North instead of just shooting back the way we came becomes clear. The gloriously smooth sensation of tar under tire happens as you find yourself at the top of an incredible mountain pass. From this point on you’re in third, freewheeling down, slicing back and forth through hairpins and switchbacks. You’re in seventh heaven for a while as you cruise along the brick paved roads for a few kilometers, and then sad reality kicks back in when dirt starts again, another 20 kilometers of it.
On we push and eventually emerge at the ass end of Clanwilliam, we fill up immediately as our steads are quite literally on their last legs, something we plan to address soon, and find a spot for a cold beer and a burger. Sated, we fly off south and in less than tow hours we’re home. Nearly 550 kilometers over two days, no sweat.
Leave a Reply