“You’re a motorcycle, but most of all, what you are, what you’ve become, is a friend. That’s what makes a motorcycle special. That’s what makes a motorcycle great. You start to think of it as a partner. You start to love it.” – Jeremy Clarkson, with a few tweaks because as we know the old GOAT doesn’t care much at all for motorcycles. That said, the best way to form a bond with your machine is to see it as more than a mode of transport, but as something capable of not only creating priceless memories with, but also letting you down from time to time. They may get you into trouble with the law because they’re a little too loud. You will spend years together. They are in essence, not just a tool, but a partner.
There’s no better way to strengthen a bond than to spend a lot of time together. Verneukpan is a large, flat piece of ground deep in the Northern Cape of South Africa. It is the site of Malcolm Gladwell’s dual land speed records set in 1929 in his Bluebird. In 1952 Vic Proctor attempted to set a motorcycle speed record on his Vincent Black Lightning, but crashed at 162 km/h. Proctor walked away, Johan Jacobs was not so fortunate when in 2008 he attempted to break the 24-second world record. Johan lost control at approximately 500 km/h. None of these feats are for the feint of heart, and these men are each remembered for the bold way in which they chose to live.
With this history in mind we began our journey on a mild Friday afternoon in late November. We chose to split the 700km journey in half, and return via the west coast to make the most out of our breakaway. The easy way to the pan would be a straight shot up the N7, branching off onto the R27 through Calvinia and turning off shortly after Brandvlei for the final 67km of dirt road to the finish line. But seeing as ‘dirt roads on a Harley Davidson’ is kind of our mantra at this point, we worked in a dirt road for each day of the journey. So on day 1 we turned off at Clanwilliam and enjoyed what must be one of South Africa’s premier dirt roads, the R364. It even had a short mountain pass that saw us climb up into the Northern Cape, not that any of us were the wiser. In fact we enjoyed the strip of dirt cutting through the Karoo so much that we missed the turn off to our accommodations and by the time we realised, it was too late to turn back.
So on we pushed, hoping to find something in Calvinia. I reached the junction where the 27 connects back to the 364 a few minutes before my compadres, and as I danced about for warmth, a late 90’s Toyota Hilux bakkie (aka pick-up truck) crept out from a dirt road on the opposite side of the tarmac and turned onto the road from where I had just come. The window rolled down and I was greeted by two farmers with rifles. In my best afrikaans (which probably sounded disgusting to these men) I tried to explain where I had come from, where I was going and that I did in fact have back-up arriving shortly. Mercifully, the back-up did arrive and Ducki stepped up to the plate, conversing with the men in his mother language. Ten minutes later we were arriving at a dark farmhouse. The farmers had dissapeared into the night to hunt jackal. The key was on the shelf right where Japie said it would be. We let ourselves in, turned on the lights and made ourselves at home. The next morning, Japie offered us coffee and rusks, before bestowing us with a bottle of brandy and seeing us off. There is something to be said of Karoo hospitality.
We enjoyed a brief stop in beautiful Calvinia for breakfast and a butchery, before pushing up to Brandvlei for an ice cold beer at Die Windpomp, an ecelctic and welcoming pub with the only four Flying Fish hard seltzers in the Northern Cape, or so the bartender assured us, which went down well in the Karoo heat before sucking back a few more beers. Then came the dirt road to the pan. All we can say is that if it were easy, we would not have appreciated the destination quite as much.
Verneukpan is truly a magical place. The quiet is soothing and the night sky intoxicating. Somewhere around midnight the wind became furious and we begrudgingly retired to our tents, albeit with the doors open so we could continue to stare upwards.
The next day we packed up, the mood was solemn as we weren’t quite ready to depart this place. A dry wind only added to our frustrations and by the time we sauntered back into Die Windpomp in Brandvlei for a toasted sandwich and a coke, our spirits were depleted and the consensus was to cut the trip a little shorter, staying over somewhere along the N7 rather than pushing the full 380km to Strandfontein. With full stomachs and music in our earphones, we climbed back on our bikes pressing on to our next break and refuel in Calvinia. Something shifted during that stretch, because when I went to check what the feeling was among the troops, they wanted to see the ocean. We arrived at a beautiful campsite overlooking the atlantic ocean just before five pm that day. As the sun was setting, we pitched our tents then struck out in search of sustenance. The only cafe in the little oceanside town was closed. The only resturaunt in the little oceanside town was closed. Sean and I ventured a little further down the coast to the even smaller town of Doringbaai. After questioning some locals, we were told there was a seafood shop that may still be operational. Finally luck struck, and we were able to purchase two fairly large snoek fillets, as well as a bottle of tobasco sauce. While this may not sound appetizing, the braai’d snoek with a healthy smattering of tobasco was undoubtedly the most delicious and primal meal of our trip, and one we will never forget.
We departed Strandfontein in good spirits on the final morning of our journey. However, the less said about the dirt roads the run down the west coast from Doringbaai to Lamberts Bay the better. Owned by Transnet, they are a corrugated nightmare that shook loose luggage, indicators, fenders, you name it. We regrouped in Lamberts Bay, refueling our already tired bodies with garage samooses and sterie stumpies, before enjoying the now familiar and beautiful west coast road back down to Cape Town.
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