South Africa II

So, on the road again ….

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In the picture below you can see the headlight of a motorcycle in the distance, two of them, full throttle, and ripped past me so fast I was even afraid for a moment they would hit me ….

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After taking these pictures I hopped on my bike, did a u-turn, and then started up the road …. a minute or two later I saw a truck coming at me in my lane, and then realized I was in the wrong lane and quickly moved over. The driver gave me a look when we passed each other, I was smiling with relief.

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Arriving in Cape L’Agulhas, the southern most point in Africa.

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I have to admit, I find all Ocean view towns the same, neither here nor there for me, all just the same. Anyway I stayed at a backpacker’s, camping in a small backyard and after having spent so much time in paradise at Amber Lagoon Retreat, I was not satisfied and left promptly in the morning. However I did meet this South African from Port Elizabeth who is a music teacher riding around for a couple of weeks. His name is Johann, and he mentioned many times how envious he was of me. If I had a dollar for every time someone said this I could stay on the road for all of my life.

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After taking this picture I slowly started to roll away and caught the edge of a rock and tipped over. This would have made a much better picture and I’m sorry I didn’t take the time to take it, but I just wanted to get the bike back up again, which is quite a strain fully loaded.

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Riding into the Elgin County, land of the apples and wine, I headed for a backpackers that I found in the Coast to Coast free backpackers book. Pippins County House …

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When I was in Canada, I imagined the typical stereotype of a white man living in South Africa to be the host of this country house, JR. JR is Dutch, Afrikaan, a proficient hunter, an educated man, a farmer, builder, cook, business man and his own boss who gets his hands dirty cleaning his own toilet. We talked for a long time about many things and I met a family of three who live in a small house on the farm, a deep mysterious connection that I did not delve into. Anyway, before I retired JR said the locals believe rain is coming because we had some wind earlier in the day. He said you can watch the weather station or listen to the radio and who knows, except what the locals say. So I walked back to my tent on a clear breeze-less starry night thinking, ‘I don’t know about this land but it sure doesn’t seem like rain is coming, even though I can’t see what’s behind that mountain’, and I fell asleep.

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In the night I was woken by the wind. My tent was making all kinds of noises and the wind ripping through a nearby pine was intimidating. Later again I was woken by the wind, and again I looked and could see stars so I knew it wasn’t going to rain yet, but I did get out of my sleeping bag to look for some heavy rocks in the night. I found some bricks and tightened down the hatches and went back to sleep. In the morning it was still windy, and then the rain came, not much, but enough rain and wind to invite me to stay at JR’s another night.

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JR invited me to drive with him to town to get some supplies so I did. He drove around the area, taking different routes and explaining to me the local news and facts.

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When we returned back to the country house, I crawled into my tent and spent the day reading, writing, and napping to the sound of the rain.

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And for the first time, a hot ash fell from my smoke onto the air mattress, so I patched the tiny hole with glue, and used some duct tape for back up.

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In the evening I hung out by the fire with JR and his new five month old puppy, 63(I don’t know her real name but she had an old I.D. from JR’s previous dog of 10 years) who passed away quickly two weeks ago. 63 has only been in the house for two days and already seems to fit in, I think she’s a smart one.

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In the morning the rain and wind had stopped so I packed up to head to Nooerdhoek. Progressive Suspension sent me some fork springs and I know that they have arrived by the tracking system, but they haven’t been delivered to Mike Hopkin’s Kawasaki, so I need to get back to Cape Town to call and go down to the airport customs to find out what’s happening, or probably pay a fee to have them released, I don’t know, it’s my first time doing this.

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These shacks are everywhere the nice big houses are, just outside or pushed back far enough, next to the electrical plant or the main sewer building or the airport or the main highway. Just like in the other poorer countries, including North America, just not as basic and thrown together as this maybe, I don’t know, but it’s the same.

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Returning to Nooerdhoek camping, and after setting up the tent, the local geese came for a visit while I was watching the sun set. This campground is excellent for bird watching and I plan today to get some good pictures, hopefully.

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Once I’ve sorted the missing fork springs, and my other parts that are waiting for me in Cape Town, I’m going to do the work at Classic Bikes with Steve and Sandi, and then head east to start heading north. It’s been great being delayed as always, but now it’s time to move on. The new shock won’t be ready for another two weeks plus shipping so I’ll go with the original Progressive Suspension shock, the 465. After all and as I mentioned in my email with PS in South Africa I, no matter how many burrs I have on the rod the seals just don’t seem to break. So that being said, let’s see how far this shock can go eh! Regardless, I know that PS is behind me and will send a new one to another location when ready so that’s a nice feeling to move on with.

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I arrived here and bought some new TKC’s and some new HD tubes, not made in Brazil, Ken and Carol will be relieved to know as they had two blow outs within a month of each other, the Brazilian rubber is not so good.

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I’ve met a South African couple camping near to me, Mark and Jennifer. They are busy working during the day and then they come home to their caravan to make dinner, and both times I was invited to eat with them. The only problem is I can’t really repay the favour as my cooking gear is suited really for only one person. So yesterday I went foraging for wood, at least they had one less thing to do when they got home from work.

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I’m currently still trying to track down the missing package sent from Progressive Suspension in the States. As a back up plan, I’ve made an appointment with the suspension guru here in South Africa, MP Custom Valve Suspension by Martin Paetzold, so he can polish and rebuild my shock. I really have to get moving now, for I’ve been here a month and haven’t really done much at all in terms of the bike, multiple variables slowing me down. Today is April 15th, 2010.

Just when I had given up all hope of retrieving the missing parcel, I got an email from Adeeb who has been working to find the missing package ….

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For a small fee he found and rescued the parcel and paid for the duty. He showed me his email list of clients trying to recover lost parcels, quite extensive. If you’re in need he can be reached at…

MA Clearing & Forwarding

Unit 5, Bertie Industrial Park

12 Bertie Avenue, Epping Industria 2, 7495

Cape Town, South Africa

Tel: +27 21 535 0699/76/70

Fax: +27 21 534 0692

Mobile: +27 82 781 3705

Email: adeeb@maclearing.com

I rode down to his office and rushed back to Fish Hoek to open the package with Sandi and Steve at Classic Bikes. How you ride in traffic is by taking the center between the cars as one does in cities like Paris. In North America if you’re caught riding like this you will be fined, scolded and given demerit points on your license. I can’t tell you how nice it is to ride a bike through the traffic with the consent and co-operation of other vehicles. I remember riding out of Vancouver on the #1 highway, 24 years ago, and the traffic was standing still so I took the shoulder in 2nd gear hoping a cop wouldn’t catch me, and all of a sudden a van pulled over and opened his door so I couldn’t pass. He was yelling at me to wait behind all the other cars. What kind of logic is that? Anyway, since leaving North America one can ride a bike with all of the pleasures and risks involved. Here in South Africa, the cars are pretty aware and often move over, but you just never know for sure.

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We were all excited to see what was in the package as there was some sort of mix up at PS, so I wasn’t sure if I would find fork springs, the shock or both. Thankfully I found the black beauty …

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The following day Steve and I worked on the bike like we were mechanics for the Dakar, both of us with our hands on, sharing tools and having a laugh.

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Upon closer inspection, I’m not entirely sure if or where the shock is leaking. I’ll be sending the shock back to PS for them to look over and wait to find out the news.

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Ken Duval taught me this trick in Bolivia, cover the shock with a sock to keep the small rocks from chipping away at the rod.

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In this picture you can kind of see the burring on the rod. This shock has taken a brutal 40,000 plus kilometers on some really bad roads and still was working with possibly a small leak but I’m not sure.

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Sandi lent me one of her smaller bikes that she uses for training new riders so I could go back to Noordhoek. Steve and I had a couple more hours of work left to do on the bike that we would finish the following day.

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But when I returned after the following days work, an invasion of space occurred. A birthday party for a sixteen year old girl named Emma, her parents and ten other boys and girls had arrived. Oh the boys just don’t stop talking and goofing off and oh my word I wasn’t ready for this. My plan was to return with my new bike to the camp to do some laundry and take some photos and write in my journal. I did do these things, but ended up hiding in my tent with the ear buds in and turned up loud so I didn’t have to listen to these upper class kids talk about nothing while chasing the peacocks and throwing around a rugby ball, yelling and screaming needlessly. I was thinking that maybe it’s a nice and different way to celebrate the 16th birthday of their daughter Emma, but maybe they could have parked in the tons of empty middle space, or maybe just camp with the parents and one or two other friends but this …..

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And then all of a sudden this dog was hanging around, I’d never seen him before. So I walked up to the office to ask if they knew this dog and they did, and they were also surprised he was down at my camp. At first I thought he had come there to die, for he is very old and in rough shape, apparently an Ostrich had kicked him some years ago. But when I returned from the office he had left. Now I think he was like me, staring at the invasion wondering what the hell was going on.

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From my tent I envied the guy on the scaffolding.

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Thankfully though, Sandi’s guy Colin rescued me. So I hoped into his truck and we rode to his house for a Braii (Asado to the Spanish and BBQ for the North Americans). Colin put a leg of lamb on his outdoor rotisserie cooking up a feast. His daughter Aimee and her friends made bread and salad and oh my oh my was this a good dinner. Unfortunately I only had my old camera with me and therefore the pictures aren’t so great as I can’t change any settings or view the pictures. A great deal of luck and light is needed but there are some images ….

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Later on in the evening, Colin took me for a tour of the roads he knows so well in the area where he had grown up. At one point it was like watching a movie, driving with the headlights shining a dark road in the hills, and then a huge porcupine came out from the bushes and the movie ended.

In the morning, I awoke to the sound of those boys yammering about this and that and again I was trapped in my tent. I wanted to just climb out and walk to the washroom but I had to walk through their area, so I just climbed out of my tent and jumped onto my bike and rode off. I’m now in a mini mall in a coffee shop borrowing the internet from a nearby computer store. Two days ago it felt like I was never going to start heading north, but suddenly I am ready, and now I can’t believe I actually have to start riding north. Yesterday while hiding in my tent I started to look at the map for real this time. (Note to self; get a better map) I also have to say some good-bye’s which is never fun, buy some back up front fork seals and some medicine if I get Malaria as I’ve decided not to take the pills. Many more people have said they don’t take the pills for the body gets used to the antibiotic and when they get Malaria, they aren’t entirely sure they have it. So the idea is to just cover up and keep some medicine nearby just in case. The ‘no pills people say’ you will know when you have Malaria immediately, then you take your treatment and then take the treatment from a doctor. We shall see …..

Steve invited me to ride out to his neighbourhood and join him for a drink and a Sunday dinner at a pub near his house so I did. He has a great old bungalow, and for the first time on this trip, I was enjoying the idea of having a pad like this some day when I return to Canada.

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I stayed in his son’s room who spends half his time at his mother’s. I slept in a bed with pillows and a duvet! In the morning Steve had already gone to his shop, so I enjoyed morning coffee at a table with chairs, also an excellent experience. Then I packed up, locked up and rode in the rain back to Fish Hoek to do some more errands and return Steve’s keys. Today I have to send the old shock back to PS, and tomorrow I start riding again.

My last night in Noordhoek, I was to meet with Sandi and Colin for a drink at a nearby pub. I got there, had some wine and a pizza and then started falling asleep at the table. I think the emotions of saying good-bye, or some sort of internal device always makes me tired the night before moving on, so I waited a while more and then left, thinking I have nothing to give I’m so tired. I wrote this in my journal and fell asleep before 9pm.

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The following day I was up early and hit the road after stopping in at Steve’s shop for a coffee. I missed a turnoff and took another instead, ending up in a shack town. Everyone was quite amazed I was riding around their hood, waving and nodding to me, I actually quite liked it there.

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After a month of waiting for the shock to arrive, and to do the other work on my bike, which included re-bending the crash bars from the accident I had in Bolivia, I was finally finished with all the work and on the road. I talked with Sandi and Steve about why I was so delayed, not knowing the reason but accepting it just the same.

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And then the speedo stopped working. Damn, now what? I can live without a speedometer but the odometer seems a little weird for me not to know the distances traveled. I could use my GPS for mileage but if that goes dead or something I will be without any measurement of distance, or an approximation of fuel in the tank, which I can just look inside but hmm….

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Again I took a wrong turn and ended up in another small town shack neighbourhood. Some guys were pointing for me to go this way and that, and once I tried to cut through some dirt field but was stopped by the railway tracks. Eventually I found my way onto the highway again.

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Later I arrived at Amber Lagoon to see my friends Kurt and Suzanna, and the dogs. Just like going home.

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In the night I was woken by wind and rain, so I got up to secure the fly, and thankfully K&S had put some tires by the boat to put under eventually, so I used them to secure the tent. I stayed up for a long while, listening to the wind, the rain, the roosters and the dogs. I recorded some of the sounds and will post when I have a speedy internet connection.

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Today I ordered a speed drive to replace in Port Elizabeth. The other two parts that could be the problem; the cable or actual speedometer, would have to be ordered from Japan which is not an option. The speed drive is coming from Jo’berg and will be in PE on Monday so failing that fix, I will rely on my GPS for mileage. I also asked Kurt and Suzanna, why am I again being delayed? Is this me, the bike or the universe? I don’t know, but we shall see …..

Excerpt from journal …. and I wonder why the young dude decided I had the answer to his question when all I kept repeating was ‘When you come to the fork in the road that looks like this … (gesticulating with my hands and fingers and wrists) … when you come to the fork in the road you can go left and you can go right, and either way will work out fine if you choose it yourself. I myself have turned both left and right, and I still don’t know which way is which, we’re already dying my friend, each day a death, and I mean that in a good way. There is nothing short of death but life, and life also knows how to die, so live’. He still kept asking me the same question in another way and again I said, ‘When you come to a fork in the road ….’. Day 303 AMBER LAGOON …. Arrived and felt good, woke up after my REM sleep, in the darkness with no sky, the wind and rain threatened, and I recorded what I heard, and on the back of the bag of cashews I was eating it says, “This product has been packed in a factory where nuts are packed”. Go figure.

April 29th, 2010
So where to start, well it seems I will be making less entries less often due to the remoteness of the places I’m stopping over, which is neither here nor there. A few days ago I was enjoying my last sunset at Amber Lagoon, deciding to leave the following morning being a Sunday ….
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Tibetan wish flags given to me from Sandi. Each day the threads spread across the country….

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…. While walking down the hill to join Kurt and Suzanna and guests for dinner, I saw a motorcycle parked at the bottom, ‘A bike …. with European plates …. hey wait a second that yellow dry bag …. those stickers say ‘Don’t ride naked’ … ahh it’s Biget!’ I thought while chuckling past the bike and around the corner to see Biggie already coming to greet together. ‘What are you doing here?’, I asked. She explained, ‘Well I have to be in Cape Town three days from now to ship my bike back to Germany, and when I was riding up to Amber Lagoon I saw a bike on the top of the hill and thought it can’t be Markus but I could see it was your bike!’. So we had a good laugh and talked about what we had both been up to for the last two weeks, hers being much more exciting than mine for she was riding while I was trying to find the package. Neither Kurt, Suzanna, myself or Biggie knew we were all going to be together again, so we had a great time enjoying our company. Unfortunately I didn’t have my camera with me, however I do have this great recording of the workers having a party just across the road. The workers are the blacks that work for Lohan the Ostrich farmer. He was also at Amber Lagoon having a beer and chatting with us and the other guests. I even asked him at one point, ‘Are the workers having a special party because the music isn’t the same as the other nights and it just sounds like it’s different?’. ‘No’, he answered with an Africaan chuckle, ‘It’s just another weekend’. So off I went to have a listen, and to record the sounds ….

LocalBirthdayNightSound(favourite recording)

The following morning, having already decided to stay another day the night before, the four of us had an unbelievably tranquil Sunday by the pool. It was planned by the county to do some electrical work and therefore there was no power from six in the morning until six at night and therefore no unnatural sounds, like farming equipment, music, nothing. The stage was set for the birds to sing on this breezeless sunny day. No pictures, just pure enjoyment.

The next day good-bye’s, farewells and off I went. I was heading for Nieu Bethesda in the Karoo, where I was to find a remote village in a valley, and ‘The Owl House’, a dedication of sculpture and glass in a woman’s home named Helen, who has been gone since long ago.
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I arrived in Nieu Bethesda and ended up riding into the shack village again, actually called ‘Townships’. After asking a guy where the ‘Owl Backpackers’ was, he directed me down the street and there I checked in, parking the bike and my tent in a small backyard. When I went inside the building to ask where reception was or what the deal was in terms of food and drink, all I found were young women moving around fixing something to eat, working on computers, crisscrossing from one room to another with towels around their heads, and that’s when I found out they were all Photojournalist students on a field trip. Cool. So I got the lay of the land before heading for the only pub in town where I met the owner Ian and his wife Katrina, who incidentally own the backpackers I was staying at and a couple of other places including a restaurant/gift shop. Anyway it was Katrina’s birthday and I was invited to sit with them for a lamb and vegetable ‘Pokerie’, (stew in a black cast iron pot). Many friends of theirs had gathered around three tables and I met and talked with some interesting people. One of these people who I am not going to name, but will refer to as ‘Arse’, asked me if I was American in an aggressive kind of way. No I answered I’m Canadian. That’s good cause I don’t like Americans. Trying to deflect the energy a little I answered calmly, Oh they’re not so bad, I know many good Americans. And that’s when Arse proceeded to talk without listening for the next hour, complaining about this and that, throwing aggressive remarks to his friends across the table, at one point saying to one of the other guys who slapped a dog in the jaw for jumping up on his lap, How would you like to be slapped in the jaw? Next time you do that I’m going to punch you in the face’. The thing is, there were four dogs in this one room, all belonging to different owners and food was being served so things can get a bit weird when this happens for pack animals, including the human ones. The point is this Arse was starting to show signs of something to come but I see this all the time and sometimes it’s nothing. By this point most of the couples were preparing to go to their respective homes, including Arse and his wife.

Later in the night some of the photojournalists came in for a drink with two of their instructors. Again a really interesting discussion about photography and journalism and styles of art versus business and of course philosophy erupted. Then Arse returned alone, complaining that he needed some Drambuie because he couldn’t sleep because he thought that the owner Ian was failing at his life. From what I learned this evening, it was Arse who had no job and that his wife supported him. Anyway, with that way a bar owner in a small town deals with things, he said nothing but poured him his drink.

Anyway the conversations were really going well, all the while Arse kept throwing in more and more negative points of view. One of the young woman, Nao, a coloured woman said suddenly to Arse, I really like the sound of your voice. And it’s true, he did have a deep South African English drawl. So he took this in, and some more Drambuie, until he suddenly had a disdain for one of the young male students, Tim, a tall, thin, blonde cool dude. Why don’t you say anything over there? Arse demanded. Well, because I’m listening. More diatribes continued, at one point Arse was directly saying to Nao it was the black and coloured people that are screwing up South Africa. Everyone did a really good job at cooling off the situation and an hour or two later I was talking with Nao about this and that when suddenly Arse who was now right beside Tim started getting more aggressive than before. A couple of times I thought I was going to have to jump in and defend Tim, but he kept his cool while listening to Arse’s shite. Then Tim had had enough, said he was leaving and the others went with him. I said good-bye to each of them while Arse was yammering at Ian the owner about who knows what. At one point I was going to leave with them, and then thought to stay for some reason. Tim said something to me like, ‘He’s only now getting started’.

After they left it was Ian, Arse and myself in a pyramid seating position around one table. Arse was screaming at Ian that he was a fat pig and a useless human and that he was failing in life and that he should have more than just a shitty pub and a backpackers and a restaurant in this small shit town. Ian didn’t say a word, nor was he afraid, nor did he reveal any kind of emotion. I listened to this for some time before finally saying, ‘Hey do you remember saying this to that other guy earlier on after he cuffed the dog, ‘How would you like it if someone slapped you upside the jaw?’ ‘Stay out of this Canada, this is between friends’. ‘Well it doesn’t seem like that and I’m sitting here too and I don’t want to listen to this shit’. So Arse grabbed a 1 litre empty bottle of beer and held it cocked while screaming at me like a dog who shows his teeth when he’s more afraid than sure. All I did was look him in the eye, thinking as soon as I see his eyes open slightly more than they already were, I would move to my right for he was right handed. He was ready to explode, Ian meanwhile saying or moving nothing as before. After he finished and realized neither of us had said or done anything, he stopped yelling for a moment and that’s when I said as calmly as I could, that must have sounded a little bit maniacal, ‘You know earlier you were quite a pleasant person and you even had the students laughing at some of your comments, but I have to tell you something also, I have been in more violent situations than this as a teenager, I’m talking serious near death beatings, court appearances, gang fights, street brawls, cop fights and well, my adrenalin is so explosive right now I’m going to suggest to me and to you if you want, to take a deep breath, and exhale slowly …. and I did. Ignoring me, then he started to be a little apologetic to Ian, lamenting rather than attacking, ‘But Ian man, you must do something about this, look at you, you’re fat Ian, you work in this shit bar ….’ And then Ian cut him off calmly … ‘I’m still waiting for that deep breath’. Arse suddenly slammed the bottle down onto the floor, glass everywhere. ‘But Ian man you blah blah blah.’ ‘Take a breath really it feels good’, as I showed him by example, more for me than for him. ‘Listen Canada I don’t need your breathing shit, I’m fine it’s you guys that don’t understand’. ‘Well, I understand you just threatened me with a bottle’. ‘Yeah but blah blah blah ….’

After more of us listening to this man’s disguised fear and denial and relatively calm appearance as he was now sitting again, I just couldn’t help but think how I’ve seen this dog so many times before, the one’s that growl excessively, the one’s that skulk around with their heads low to the ground like they’re ready to rip out someone’s throat, and how Arse has perfected this form of aggression, without actually ripping out another dog’s voice. For when an animal really does attack, it does look like this, the only difference is mostly you can see the truth in the eyes of a human, then again, maybe not. This experience was just like the one I had in Costa Rica with the guy who pulled a knife on me in a bar, for looking at him when he banged on the table. The thing is with people like this, once they draw a weapon you know they are scared. Maybe not scared of you necessarily, just that they’re scared, and dying inside most probably.
As I was leaving I said good-bye to Ian and to the Arse, closing the door behind me I looked at him, with my head down low, thinking of how I would rip out his throat at that moment. I walked back to my tent a couple of doors down, taking deep breaths to calm myself before sleeping.

When I woke up before sunrise to take a leak, I noticed a small cut in my tent fly near the bottom of the tent. That’s weird, must have been the cat. Later when the sun had risen, I could see multiple cuts on the fly of my tent. Shit, was it him? That’s scary if it was …. so I woke up and mended the cuts with duct tape, both sides of the cuts, inside and out.

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Then I went over to Katrina and Ian’s restaurant and gift shop for breakfast. Katrina asked how I slept and I said well okay but … well …. I don’t know …. I don’t like to make accusations but …. what happened she asked … well I don’t know … and then I saw Ian sitting behind the desk and I just asked him directly, ‘Do you think Arse would cut up my tent?’ ‘No’, shaking his head, ‘He left and went home’. Oh.

Regardless, after mending my tent I decided it’s time to leave even though I was late in leaving and I still wanted to see the ‘Owl House’, and to ride to the ‘Valley of Desolation’, but I couldn’t stay another day, too much negative energy. So I ate breakfast, ran in to the students and told them what happened, and then went to visit the Owl House.

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Before leaving Nieu Bethesda, I stopped in the township to get some fuel out of a plastic container. I like these stores and the faces of these people.

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Then I rode to the Valley of Desolation, and then onto Port Elizabeth where I was to pick up the speed drive for my odometer.

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I was really running behind so I rode the bike hard into the head wind and up the hills through the valley of the Karoo. I really didn’t want to get stuck riding in the dark so I pushed and pushed, not stopping for a snack or anything, just a couple of smokes. Once I considered stopping in the only town left to stop in but decided to push on anyway.

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As the early evening was giving way to the night, I had to ride on reserve for my gas consumption was greater than I had anticipated with all the head wind and speed and hills, and then finally I ran out of gas. So I pulled over and poured a litre of gas I have for the stove, into the left side of the tank where the reserve side is, and that’s when a truck pulled over to see if I was okay. I said yeah, but I need to get to the nearest gas station. He offered to give me a lift or to get me some gas but I said if it’s under 10 kilometers I should be okay and so he gave me directions and off I went.

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After fuelling up, ahh gas never smells so good as when you need it most, I rode into PE in the dark, trusting my GPS to take me to the center, but it took me to the burbs so after turning off the GPS, I just asked and asked until I got to a backpackers I chose just by reading the book. It was pretty, but lacked energy and was just a seaside house with rooms and a pool. I lay awake for some time thinking about the cuts on my tent, and how it was possible if possible for that Arse to perform such a stealth, vindictive manoeuvre. I thought not but then how did it get cut up in that way.

The next day I woke up early and hit the road for a famous backpackers called ‘Buccaneers Backpackers Chintsa’ at the beginning of the Wild Coast, formerly the Transkei(back in the Apartheid time) .

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I made good time and had a nice lunch at a Ma and Pa gas station, and then rode into the backpackers to check in and set up my tent before dark. The main office/bar/livingroom/kitchen and all is up on a hill, with cabins and such going down to the camping area. No one was at the camping area so I chose a spot and then started setting up my tent. Immediately after the tops of the trees were swaying and I could see flashes of monkeys making their way down to the threshold of the circle of forest trees. Shit, I hope people haven’t been feeding the monkeys for the last few years or I’m done for. And then on the other side a big Warthog appeared and that’s when I got the machete out, throwing it onto the grass by my tent. I even called the office and asked if these monkeys are going to be a problem and she said no I don’t think so. No problems, the warthog kept it’s distance when I walked around, had a shower, and then headed up to the bar for a drink and some food. When I returned everything was still intact, and then I noticed yet another cut on the fly that I hadn’t seen before, which gave me the answer to what cut up my tent in the first place. Once mended, I saw the animal went from one side up to the top and then only hit the bottom of the other side, so I think it was a cat or a squirrel.

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Later in the night I heard what I thought was crashing waves as the beach is nearby, but realized it was thunder that was getting closer. So I tightened all the loops on the tent, hoping the duct tape would hold for the rain I could feel increasing. It’s so funny cause there are signs everywhere saying there is a shortage of water, not much rain in one and a half years so everyone has to use the water sparingly. And then it rained all night and all morning too. I have the camp kitchen and showers to myself, so I made some porridge and drank Rooibus tea while updating FTG. One of the workers has been down here mending to the yard and cleaning up the guava and such, so I made us some tea and shared these delicious cookies I bought from the Ma and Pa gas station yesterday, while talking with this man who has been working here 13 years. Pictures will follow …..

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So the problem isn’t with the speed drive, it’s with the other side as you can see in the picture. It’s chewed to pieces, and the pieces I found in the old speed drive, which is not in the picture. Make sense?

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I seem to be stuck in yet another world, this one being with a collection of different people that work here at Buccaneers, all who had arrived here at one point and never left, including the family that run this backpackers. Their stories are interesting, and incestuous in a similar sort of way. This hostel has been open for 30 years, children have grown and had their own children that are too growing up here. I was talking with the owner Lee one night and after saying how much I appreciated the work and detail to the work they have done here, I also said maybe I too can build something like this back in Canada and he simply replied is his soft spoken way, Why do you have to build it in Canada? Uhmmmm, I never really thought of it like that. Learned another way to say ‘Sweet Dreams’, in Xhosa this time ‘Ulale Kamnandi’.

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I stopped here, no camping so I took a room which included a 5 course meal for dinner, and a huge breakfast. What a nice break from my tent.

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Lulu and I hung out for the night ….

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Avoiding the pot holes was not much of a problem but anticipating the oncoming taxi buses and they suddenly swerving was. One time it was like playing hockey, and I ended up taking the taxi’s lane and he took mine at high speed.

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…. arriving in Coffee Bay I took another room, just too good to resist at $35cdn.

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The next day I went along with a group to see the Hole In The Wall ….

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Next stop … Port St. John’s …

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I decided to do a quick oil change at this gas station, and this guy helped me get sorted with an oil pan and such … we had a good chat.

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I arrived at the Jungle Monkey Backpackers. What an amazing place. This little one was sleeping during the music, just off the side of the bar. Her name I later learned is Madison, what a sweetheart.

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The next day Mike the owner of the Jungle Monkey, and his girl Henney, took me for a ride in their backyard. The Transkei or The Wild Coast is really amazing.

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These kids came from a small village without electricity and all the stuff associated. They sang traditional Xhosa songs and danced while staring at the lights, tv and us. Recording to follow once I can upload…. seems I’m getting used to having a room, oh what a luxury it is to stay here, with a cool, laid back vibe. Every night something begins …. I also learned a local phrase here, “Pondo Fever”, which is when people don’t want to leave, like the parents of Madison, Wayne and Shea, as they have been here for nine days now.

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Excerpt from journal …. Day 311 Chintsa … Crazy night with all of the offerings for a king, and yet I didn’t eat. In fact I seemingly gave away my food, as I watched the eyes of a stranger fall upon one’s dancing in the court of no shirts for shots, as I saw the romantic one leave in another direction, I felt the temptress’ fall upon both shoulders and I couldn’t look back even though I wanted to, trapped in a dream I couldn’t control, in a dream where lovers search for one another through barnacles and mirrors, candy and big wigs wearing party hats for three. I stumbled out of this surreal reality that doesn’t ask for questions from a man who doesn’t know which dream he dreams, but when I did ask, someone laughed and I woke up here alone again not knowing which love is true, not knowing …. Good day not to ride anyway, as the rain is socked in tight, so wine and a smoke, and map gazing to music’s song, dreaming of things I can’t imagine, contemplating things I can, wondering how life’s breath tastes in the dark; a kiss in the night delivers a good morning, as sweet syrup runs down languid trees, a pool is formed at the bottom of the sea, where things dance and sing I love you … ‘Office’, the Xhosa man with four children who works here at the bottom of ‘Bucks’, takes care of the grounds where we are now just being ourselves, both understanding how different it is up at the top without sharing a word, and now we say good’bye with few words and big smiles, for we know this sanctuary feeds many children too. …. What a nice treat it is to have a room for the first time in a long one without my glorious tent. Just to move around while standing or peeing in another room, lighting a candle turning on a light, pillows on a bed lying naked underneath, decorations with petals in a toilet by the bath, my stuff laid out all over the place with real flowers in a vase; a suitcase in a shell. In this room with a different view I see listen and hear, from voices left behind a frightful disorder all mixed up and true; this crazy moon all happy and bored.

CoffeeShackDrums

JungleMonkeyKidsSing

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On the road again …. heading toward the Drakensburg (mountains) …

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I was heading toward another Backpackers from the Coast to Coast book, but I didn’t like the scene, and also their prices weren’t anything close to what the Sani Lodge listed, so I returned back toward the small town of Underberg as I remembered seeing an old English Inn in Himeville, and sure enough a good deal for a room and a great old one hundred and six year old manor, The Himeville Arms.

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Tomorrow I head into Lesotho, the roof of Africa. Only 4X4′s and motorcycles are allowed to ride up the Sani Pass into Lesotho. I met another rider in Port Elizabeth a week or so ago, Daniel, and he informed me not to ride the Sani Pass if it is wet as it’s very steep, gravel and rock. So far the weather is good down here in RSA, hopefully it holds as I’ll be going up 3000 meters. Down here it is autumn, fresh and cool like in Canada, up there it is near winter with no snow or ice I’m hoping.

Excerpt from journal …. Day 320 Port St. John’s …. Stayed again, crazy cool people, misfits hanging in the fray …. I took two pictures and hung out with the variety of people and I listened and spoke, and near the end of the night I did both and this is the way it was, ‘… yeah but the answer is the question’, I said once more, ‘okay look, if the answer is fire, then the question is how to make one. No you say? Because you have to know how to make one, this is the answer? I think not my friend, the answer is the question, for to make a fire is only an answer to a question after the answer. …. Stayed again, on a Sunday afternoon, my watch was stolen from my bike last night, I suspect which ones but would rather not think about it ….

JungleMonkeyJam

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November 20th 2007
I had originally written this in 2005 as part of a series of short stories I’m working on but I accidentally lost the story in my computer somewhere and I’ve never been able to retrieve it since. On the one hand I know that I won’t be able to capture the essence of what I had written before which is really quite annoying, and on the other hand maybe it’s just a good reason to go back and write it the same way but different again. This unfortunate incident pales in comparison to this documentary I watched about a French man (I can’t remember his name right now), who was a blind writer and artist. Anyway he had spent days in a hotel somewhere in the world as he was not afraid to travel, and he was writing his heart out in his journal for quite some time before a housekeeper had finally told him that his pen had no ink inside. So anyway I haven’t tried to rewrite it until now, and also I promised my daughter Sadie I would, even though I’ve told her the shorter story before. (addendum – I’m now finally finishing the rewrite while here in South Africa, 3 years after I said I would in 2010)

THE FIRST KISS

Her name I think is Jennifer, and today I wonder how she has traveled destiny’s road. My fear is she may have gotten lost or worse even never found. Which, after having just written this, I stupidly realize the hypocrisy of my own fragile words. I’m here in my home alone and looking out through the back window which faces my long and narrow urban backyard covered in snow and broken branches. It’s a cold gray day to wander through love’s life.

I was seven years old and my parents were in their mid-twenties. We moved a lot from city to city, either as a family or just my mother and I as my parents were often separating or starting new jobs, though always moving. I’d begin in one school, and finish the same year in another. I don’t know if I developed the ability to adapt through experience or if I was naturally inclined. The only thing I do know is I’ve never really believed that where I am is where I’m going to be. Which is not such a bad thing to be honest.

MORNING RECESS

The bell rang emptying schools of children into the yard. I was with two boys, throwing snowballs at anything we could justify as a fair target such as the walls of the school, a fence post or a sign, just when another boy came running up to us excited and out of breath, “There’s a girl over there who’s giving kisses for ten cents!” he stammered pointing a ways away.

Led by our messenger, we ran over to find a semicircle of four boys, one of whom was a few steps ahead of the others, covered over the head by the arms of a white winter coat. Being new to the school and accustomed to fitting in by observing from a close distance, I found my place off to the side of the group, on the imaginary line between the animated frenzy of boys and the white winter coat. I could see two pairs of legs facing each other, almost completely still. The boy had patches of snow stuck on his pants and some wet spots where the snow had melted. The Girl was wearing little white boots with a furry fringe of pink on top, blue jeans and the white coat hoisted up and over the two heads. Her waist was exposed slightly and for the first time in my seven years, I realized how different boys and girls’ skin was from one another. It was so pure, and seemed to be made from a different substance than ours. She lowered her jacket and I first saw the boy from underneath as he turned round to the others with a stunned exhilaration in his expression. The rest of the boys started searching their pockets, or maybe pretending to, as the probable Leader of the group stepped forward confidently offering a dime from his thumb and finger. She looked at him, and around the yard before taking the dime and slipping it into her jean pocket. I watched as her little hand slipped in and out like this magician I had seen reveal a deck of cards from behind his white gloves when I was out with my Dad one day. He knew a lot of tricks. And then she lifted her jacket up and over the Leader’s head and all became quiet and still. I looked at the other boys who were mesmerized, mouths open, their breathing revealed by the frost forming in the air. It seemed like an eternity while they were under cover, as I wondered why a kiss could take so long.

Then suddenly the coat was struggling and I could see her feet squirming before she let go, taking a step away from the Leader and her own jacket. She didn’t look the same as before, her expression betrayed, her arms wrapped around herself. The Leader had a grin on his face, still holding onto her coat.

“It’s my turn now!” said the smallest of the boys, stepping forward with money in his hand.

Leader handed her the coat, and she took it without stepping forward, putting it back on.

“You’re not even tall enough to kiss her belly button Weazy”, as Leader punched him on the arm.

Chuckles and jeering from the boys as the recess bell rang, children running for their respective doors; one for the boys, one for the girls. I watched as she quickly left to join her group, before leaving with the others.

“Are you going to get a kiss from her?” asked Weazy.

“I don’t know.” I answered. My Dad used to say, ‘I could teach you everything I know and you’d still know nothing’. “I don’t have any money.” I added.

“Well I’m going to!” he shouted while running for the door.

LUNCH

As soon as the bell rang I ran all the way home. After catching my breath, I quietly opened the door and started searching through my Mum and Dad’s coat pockets; nothing but a used tissue.

“I didn’t even hear you come in.” said my Mum from behind. “What are you looking for Markus?”

“Oh, just my scarf”.

“Didn’t you take it to school with you this morning?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot”.

“Lunch is almost ready so go wash up please”.

I turned on the tap, and snuck out of the bathroom and into my parents room. I looked through their closet. Nothing. On the chair was my Dad’s pants and there I found four coins, quickly putting them in my pocket, and sneaking back out into the kitchen for lunch.

AFTERNOON RECESS

Weazy and I were restlessly standing around looking for the girl, although I pretended I wasn’t interested.

“She’s not anywhere.” Weazy complained.

It was then I spotted the girl outside of the school grounds, sitting by herself behind a parked car.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” I said. “I’ll be back in a minute”.

Weazy started to run off to some boys playing soccer, “I’ll meet you over there!”

I started to head for the door and then ducked around the corner, making sure no one was watching, including the supervising teacher doing her surveillance walk. Once out of the school grounds and almost at the car, I didn’t know what to do next, and that’s when she spotted me. My Dad used to say, ‘There you are, turn around, and there you are again.’ I wanted too but didn’t have time.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“Me? Nothing.” I replied.

She smiled like my Mum used to do when she caught me red handed and said, “Do you have a dime?”

“Uh I don’t know.” I answered as I subconsciously reached into my pocket to make sure I still had the four coins.

“Come over here.” she said.

I thought of some excuse that I couldn’t think of, before my legs started to go to her without my control.

“Show me how much you have.”

I pulled out the coins and held out my hand.

“Those are quarters silly.”

“Oh.” I answered as I started to take my hand back.

“No it’s okay.” as she grabbed my hand.

The touch of her soft cold hand instantly made me hot from head to toe.

“One of these is enough.” she said gently taking one of the coins from my hand. Then she led me behind a large construction bin placed on someone’s front lawn, before letting go of my hand.

“You’re so warm.” she said.

“Oh sorry.”

“No it’s nice.” she said smiling. “Are you ready?” she asked.

I nodded yes because I couldn’t say so. When she unbuttoned her coat I could hear my heart beat inside my ears. Then she slowly pulled her jacket up and over our heads. My eyes didn’t adjust from the blinding white snow in this darkness, and it was at this moment I noticed the scent of her skin. Not perfume like my Mum’s, just not like anything else before. The sound of my heart in my ears gave way to the sound of her breathing, and then I caught sight of her face so close to mine that I thought I was going to fall over. She slowly moved closer and closer, until my eyes could no longer focus. I just caught her eyes beginning to close as I shut mine, and then I heard and saw nothing again. The feeling was like the time I was flying in my dreams, and the taste to this day I cannot describe.

“Did you like that?” she whispered so quietly I thought she was inside me.

“Yes.” I managed to say to my surprise.

“Me too.”

And then suddenly it was so bright I couldn’t see a thing, except for her silhouette, until again my eyes adjusted. I heard the recess bell ring in the distance but I didn’t move an inch and had not a care in the world. She kept smiling at me like she was about to giggle, and then she did, “We have to go back silly.”.

“Yeah.” I said without moving.

“We don’t want to get caught so you go around that way and I’ll go this way.” she said doing up the last of her coat buttons before going her way. I peeked around the corner to watch her run back to the school, and then looked around to make sure no one was watching but there was. An old man was looking right at me from inside his house, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. My Mum used to say, ‘It doesn’t matter what people think.’, and I ran back to school.

AFTER SCHOOL

Weazy was talking a mile a minute while we were walking home from school. I was looking for a glimpse of the girl but never did see her.

” …. and then we scored just as the bell rang!” Weazy said wheezing and out of breath. “Hey what happened to you anyway? I didn’t see you anywhere.”

“Oh. I had to do the number two.”

“Well tomorrow I’m going to kiss that girl.” he said.

I couldn’t respond, while thinking of kissing the girl.

“Hey let’s stop at the store and buy some pop and chips!” said Weazy while pulling out his two coins. “I’ll get more money from my Mum to kiss the girl another day.”.

“Yeah okay.”.

Five minutes later we rounded the corner of the street to find Leader and four boys kicking something on the ground. I couldn’t quite see so we both cautiously moved closer without being seen.

“… all of it I said! Now!” Leader was screaming.

And that’s when we saw that it was the girl that was being kicked by Leader and the boys. She was crying and curled up in the fetal position, some candy lying on the ground beside her.

“I told you there’s nothing more.” she said weeping, “I spent it on candy.”

“Stupid girl!” he screamed again while picking up the candy and the rest of the dimes. “You can pay us our money back tomorrow!” he said kicking her one last time, before they all ran off down the street.

The girl then got up, hunched over and holding her stomach. She looked on the ground for anything the boys didn’t take, finding a piece here and there. Then she looked up and right at us. Neither of us moved, neither of us knew what to do. I swear she was looking right through me. After this painful moment, she turned and walked away.

Both Weazy and I didn’t have much to say, except maybe see you tomorrow or something I don’t remember. We were both upset from what we saw, and I even more so, feeling scared and useless, we then parted ways. While walking home alone, the kiss no longer tasted good. I no longer felt what I had felt earlier, and I almost couldn’t remember any of the feelings I had had before. All I could think of was the girl looking at me, her tears ruining the beauty of her face.

Just as I was almost home I noticed that my hand in my pocket was holding the three coins I still had left from before. I pulled them out and looked at them, and again could only picture the pain in her eyes looking at me, before dropping them on the ground and walking away.

Someone used to say, ‘The first kiss is the deepest’, and I concur.

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Here’s something I cannot explain … in the room here at the Inn, my computer does not work properly. I’m not talking about internet, just the computer itself runs so slowly I can’t even shut it down. I spent hours yesterday searching for virus’, defragmenting etc. but nothing would work. When I left the room, my computer worked normally, when I returned to the room, again it will not run faster than a snail’s pace. I don’t know what this means ….

After breakfast I was on the road again ….

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And met these guys that had just come down from the pass. They said they were in Lethoto for three days and they didn’t see one bike until mine, here at a construction site well before the real Sani Pass.

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When I arrived at the South African border, and I handed them my carnet, they said it wasn’t necessary, we are only police here. And then I politely returned, ‘That’s what they said when I entered Bolivia and I almost got into a lot of trouble when exiting.’ So I showed them where to sign and stamp and I was on my way with a nice chat with one of the Police Officers.

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And the ride was quite nice and I was enjoying the ride and looking forward to the ascension ….

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…. until I reached here to find this couple with only two wheels on the ground, and not going anywhere.

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So I got off the bike and for an hour we worked on getting them free. At one point I said, I don’t think you’re in 4 wheel drive. After looking through the manual and thirty minutes of moving rocks and trying to remove the one the frame was trapped on, we deduced that he didn’t have 4 wheel drive as the company that rented claimed to have rented him for the Sani Pass. Anyway, we managed to get them out of this and then he reversed for a while, stopping every couple of meters or when I yelled stop, cause he refused to open the drivers window while I was watching his reverse decent. We got him turned around, and they left before they offered to help me get through that section. I declined, saying I was better off doing it myself at speed. Then I moved a few rocks around for myself and then headed up. And the road got worse and worse, at one point on a fairly steep part and stopped at the bottom, I was looking for the lines and figured once I got over this I could stop there and so on …. but I didn’t have enough torque for my load, and my front tire at one point was in the air as I was trying to keep the bike from stalling and all I could do was stop without laying her down, which would mean unloading the bike to pick her up, again and again and again I was thinking after I threw my gloves to the ground before carefully getting off the bike at this weird, unlevel angle facing up the hill. Shit! I lit a smoke. And then I saw Ken and Carol Duvals’ faces looking at me and Ken saying ‘Always preserve the bike’. Okay, I gotta go back. So I unloaded the bike and carried the luggage back down, had some water and a smoke and was just getting ready to maneuver the bike backward and around while standing not riding for the rocks were to crazy and unlevel, when a truck carrying nine Lethoto army guys came down from the mountain. I asked for some help and they obliged. When we got to where my luggage was with the bike, the officer not wearing a uniform said I could leave my luggage here and then go up, and then walk down and carry the luggage up, which would be two heavy trips. He also said they were only going to the SA border and then coming back up and could take my luggage. If I was in a pinch I have no doubt they would have helped, but I wasn’t so I couldn’t take a chance that maybe something, like everything I have might could go missing, but honestly I really doubt anything would have been taken, either way, always preserve the bike and it’s belongings, including me. So I thanked them and took this shit picture after they all piled back in. I wasn’t in the picture taking mode at the time. So I packed up again and went back to the Inn I have been staying at for the last three days. This is the first road that beat me so far on this trip, well actually maybe not depending on how you look at it. Anyway I was wondering why those other riders I met earlier didn’t mention this to me after we had the regular short discussion, good spots, fuel, etc. . Actually one of the guys had given me his detailed map of Lethoto during the interaction. Anyway, they were packed for a week trip, not like my load around the world. Which reminds me I must get rid of some things but what. And Daniel the guy I met in PE didn’t mention this being a problem for him, but maybe he didn’t go up but down like the others, or maybe his load is much less I don’t know. Either way, my hats off to all those guys that have done the up portion of the Sani Pass. Anyway the picture below is of the Lethoto army that helped me and a crap picture of the ascent. Look at the picture above and imagine another level of difficulty for a much longer way with no idea how far and how bad the future would be. It sounds like I’m making excuses for myself, but I’m merely trying to communicate my thoughts at the time. The main difficulty is that I’m alone, and if in trouble, like a leg trapped under the bike, broken bones or what have you, well I have no help to count on. I hadn’t seen any other vehicle except the ones I helped out, and the Lethoto army truck after I’d already decided to turn around.

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On the way back I was happy with my decision. And when I got into my room, I looked closely at the map I was given from one of the riders I met in the morning. The section I was riding up was classified as “Extreme 4X4″, not just 4X4. Anyway I’m going to carry on up through the Drakensberg and around Lethoto, and in the north of Lethoto I can go up the 3000 meters on tar and then do dirt roads in a descent mode through the places I wanted to see. The only problem I face is my visa for South Africa expires in 15 days. So I have some decisions to make again. I heard from one person that if I am in Lethoto for more than three days I will be issued another 90 day visa, but I don’t know for sure, for as they say in South America, ‘Anything is possible but nothing is for sure’. And of course I forgot to ask the border up the Sani, but as they said, ‘We are only police, not an official official border’.

I don’t know, maybe my own advice had reached my own ears, ‘….when you come to a fork in the road, you can go left or you can go right, either way will work, as long as you make this decision yourself’, or, ‘The answer is the question. And in this case, the answer is to get around the world, so the question is how to do it’. Long long sigh.

Well it’s been a while since an update. It’s now May 23rd, 2010 and I am now in Gaborone, Botswana, incidentally I nice city. However these pictures have been taken during my last nine days in South Africa. So …. the first thing to say is that the reason my computer was acting strangely is because I had a virus, ‘Raidhost.exe’, and it allowed my computer to work properly when on-line, so that it could spy, but when off-line it would run so painfully slow I couldn’t do anything. This explains my problem at the Inn I was staying at. Also if you’re reading this Mike from Jungle Monkey, I would check into your computers for this virus, here is the solution …. http://comprolive.com/remove/harmful/exe/raidhost-exe …. since I think I got from your place after sticking my usb into your computer, one must practice clean sex with computers too.

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I passed a vehicle and looked inside and saw the couple I helped get unstuck back at the Sani Pass, we waved and I carried on for a while until stopping for a picture and a smoke, and they stopped too to make sure everything was okay. We chatted for a bit before taking this picture ….

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This looks like a nice place to stop, but the only reason I did so was because a bee hit me on the forehead and dropped down into my glasses and stung me just under the eyeball. I was riding with oncoming traffic trying to get the bee out of my glasses. When I stopped I pulled out the stinger, took a antihistamine, had a smoke, took a picture and carried on ….

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I stopped at the Amphitheater Backpackers in the Drakensburg, another special place. On the walls they have various pictures of things you can do like visit Lethoto, hike to the 2nd longest waterfall in the world, mountain biking and rock climbing. While looking at the pictures I noticed this couple, and remembered meeting them in Nazca, Peru last year. When I asked the co-owner of the backpackers, Ilsa, she said yes they were in Peru but not last year. She said the picture was of her sister, and her boyfriend who died in an avalanche recently. Ilsa showed me some more pictures and then I confirmed that yes it was not the couple I had met in Nazca. Weird though anyway, and sad.

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The next day a group of us went on a hike to the 2nd longest waterfall in the world, lead by our guide and special woman, Zee.

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Unfortunately it was quite cloudy, but I liked the hike anyway. I don’t recall at what elevation we started from but we reached 3121 meters. I was also sore for four days afterward but it was a good hike with a good group of people.

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This group of Dutch medical students studying in Jo’berg were singing the whole way down, later in the rain and cold wind. It all started when Zee said, ‘If you people don’t start singing I’m going to push you off the mountain’. We were all freezing and wet through and through when we reached the van, as Zee drove us home in the night to a free round of warm drinks.

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The next morning I took this picture of the summit we hiked, the one on the left.

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I stayed for seven days mainly because of the beauty of the land and people. Zee and I wrote some poetry one night, Josh and I talked and listened to music every day, like my friend Christophe back in Toronto, and Ivan another bartender there reminded me of Rigs back in Toronto. Can you imagine that, I met two of the four horseman in one place. I’m the fourth so that leaves only you now J.J., but I think I already met someone like you back in RSA, the hunter who’s place I stayed at for two nights.

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One morning Josh was driving over to a landing field to pick up the pilot and passenger so I went along.

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This fella, Pipi, is 15 years old and cool as a cucumber ….

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Helmut was also on the hike, and we shared quite a bit of wine the night before this picture. He’s been in RSA for one year, and heading back to Germany soon.

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And this is Ivan, just like you Rigs.

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And here is Josh, a good man, and we connected on many levels.

(addendum: my brother Adam tells me that my FTG site is fluid, meaning the words jump around depending on the size of your window. Which means that my words don’t always land where I’ve written them, or in relation to the pictures. On my computer they are perfect, so you have to resize your window to make the words fit properly until we deal with the issue. Make sense?)

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It was yet again difficult but necessary to pack up and move on ….

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Basically I rode and rode, anxious to move on, meaning to leave RSA and into Botswana. I stopped in a couple of nice places but didn’t take any pictures, so it seems a shame to describe to you without the photos. One place was a huge home that was converted into a B&B, Lebanese owners and beautifully decorated. Why didn’t I take any pictures, I think maybe because I had a room with a shower and a bed and pillows and a TV and didn’t think of it. Jacob ‘Jacau’, was the manager of the joint, and he may himself go on a trip with his bike one day I hope soon whenever he wants too that is. ….

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Heading for the RSA/Botswana borders, I was thinking again how not once had I been asked to pull over by the police, to check for documents or to find something wrong for a bribe, like in Central and South America where it happens quite often, sometimes five times a day. I made this point to someone along the way and they said it was because you have a motorcycle with all your luggage and they know that you have some money so they leave you alone. Yeah I answered, they know this too in the Americas and this is why they pull you over. Anyway, I’ve loved my travels so far and even the inconveniences of showing the documents, or having my bags searched and claims of illegal riding etc.. I just wanted to make the point that not once was I pulled over in RSA, except of course my entry by plane and the airport police interrogation and threats of x-raying my stomach. Apart from that, I have enjoyed my time here in South Africa, and like the rest of my journey, I have met good good people since leaving Canada.

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