One of the Bronco babes had a babe of his own in March. The other invested in Doge coin, but the less said about that the better. Early in June a permission slip was finally issued to the new father, permitting him one night away from his new responsibilities, and so a trip was planned. Together, we found a new dirt road we had not yet allowed our Iron ponies to canter on, and then browsed for suitable campsites along said dirt road.
Initially, we set our sights high – the Tankwa Karoo National Park, the site of the world famous Afrikaburn. However, given our limited time constraint it would mean coming back on the exact same route as we went, which as mentioned before, is not something you want on a good road trip. But we still wanted the Karoo, so we found an oddity worth seeing a little ways into the mystical desert and a place to pitch a tent not too far off from it.
Then it rained. Every weekend for three weeks, it rained. We had just about given up hope when Zeus had mercy on our forlorn souls and gave us a sunny Saturday to look forward to. Sunday showed a bit of rain for our return, but we would cross that bridge when we got to it.
On the morning of, as I eagerly awaited the arrival of Dom and Sean, I set about packing up Comanche. There were two new additions for this journey luggage-wise; the first a 5 liter jerry can we acquired from the fantabulous guys over at Flying Brick. After scouring the internet for weeks in search of a more cost effective option than what Rotopax offers, the one and only Rossifer pointed us in the direction of this awesome motorcycle accessory shop just around the corner from us in Paarden Eiland. The jerry cans will allow us to do an additional 100km on journeys, which may not sound like too much, but when 250km is your range, taking it up to 350km opens up a whole new realm of possibility.
The second item which we were very excited about is our new Bronco Packs. Inspired by a Deus dry bag I pinched from my old man (which I can also now finally return), we designed and sourced all the materials locally to whip this incredibly convenient travel bag together. Next we commissioned an absolute druid of a seam-master who stitched our dreams together and produced a backpack of the highest order. From the near indestructible weatherproof ripstop canvas that makes up the body to the leather base, made from the finest nguni pelt which our very own Dominic hunted down in the jungles of Limpopo using nothing but a bowie and his wits, the Bronco pack is an essential for any adventure. Be wary though, some who have looked inside have found it challenging to come back out of the rabbit hole.
The boys finally pitched just as I was finishing my second coffee of the morning, and we departed on the first familiar leg of our journey, a mad dash to Durbanville where we collected the newest member of our coalition, the Sean’s brother, Ed. We are saddened to report that like his brother, Ed has very poor taste in motorcycles and spends his days crying behind the handlebars of his BMW F650 GS. We know he’s crying because at every stop light we could hear his banshee-like screams easily over the kitten purring of his exhaust.
Our journey became real from there on as we glided along the man made path that cuts through astonishing mountains, abundant green fields and Ceres, where we each annihilated a couple of piping hot peppersteak pies in the parking lot and loaded up Ducki’s land cruiser with wood. One of these days he will be on two wheels as well, then we will have to really get our asses into gear producing the now designed Bronco Sportster panniers.
After Ceres the traffic became almost non-existent as we drew nearer to the gates of the Karoo, a pair of peaks standing sentinel on either side of the road, indicating the end of the tar, and the beginning of dirt. The longest stretch of dirt road in South Africa as legend has it. I did not fact check this, so feel free to throw shade in the comments. This road stretches an immense 210km due north to the quaint and lovely town of Calvinia. Adventure-bike cakes love to blast this stretch at around 150km/h, we witnessed this first hand. Perhaps they feel warm in the knowledge that one poorly placed rock could end it all for them. On our hogs, we cruised the 42km up to our first stop, the Tankwa Padstal at a comfortable 80km/h, taking in the splendor of the vastness that surrounded us. Even Sean and Ed took it easy, most likely because they are comfortable in their positions in life, and aren’t desperately trying to outrun the crippling regrets of their past.
We arrived to a unique scene, a few upright cars sticking out of the earth surrounding the Tankwa Padstal, and on a small hill nearby, a crashed UFO. While the awesome old soul that owns the place could not offer us anything of the alcoholic variety (thank you dear President Ramaphosa), he could offer us a cold fanta and the fun news that Comanche and Thunder Iron were only the second and third Harley Davidsons to ever visit his little slice of paradise.
After a beer in the parking lot and a photo shoot in front of the crashed UFO, we began our trek west into the Koue Bokkeveld mountains to our final resting place for the evening, the Kagga Kamma Nature Reserve. We learnt on this trip that heading due west up winding dirt mountain passes is not easy at sunset. Being nearly totally blinded occasionally led to us all becoming somewhat separated but before long we reach the turn taking us north again to the reserve and all was right with the world again. We passed through incredible sections where boulders of varying shapes and forms littered the landscape around us, making the journey feel somewhat otherworldly. Though the cold was beginning to bite, we were disappointed to reach the gates of the park relatively quickly. We visited the reception, bummed off the free weefee to let loved ones know we had safely arrived and then set off to find our campsite, and what a lovely one it was.
Jesse the camera man surprised us all by arriving well after the sun had set, baring Castle Lites and a half a bottle of tequila. Song, drink and debate continued until the early hours of the morning.
When we woke, to be honest I’m not entirely sure if we slept due to the insane cold, we complained bitterly as a fire was lit. Everything was covered in a thick layer of frost and there were strong reservations about whether our own systems would work, never mind the motorcycles. After Ducki has served each of us a soul saving instant cuppacino, which helped get those systems working, we were ready to break camp and begin our journey home.
The road home bore an unexpected gift, the Katbakkies pass. Halfway on the dirt road between the Kagga Kamma reserve and Die Dorp op die Berg is an incredible tarred mountain pass with one of the scariest hair pin bends I have ever encountered. The views from the top are phenomenal and the dirt roads on either side immaculate.
To soon we popped out back onto the familiar R303 and with the help of my new Jerry Can, didn’t have to stop until Ceres where we enjoyed a hearty brunch of saucy steers burgers in the petrol station parking lot. From there on a melancholic but relaxed ride back to Cape Town (save for a small run in with a belligerent traffic pig) ensued and before long we were all warm, safe and sound in our little caves, dreaming of the next adventure.
And for the first time, here is a little montage we put together of our journey, please enjoy!
Sjoo, I seriously felt as if I was on this trip with you guys. Loving the adventure my boys, some proudly from other mothers, biologically one is proudly mine