So off I went, the guy in the very back got to take my bed, just as I was leaving. As Sandra says, they are in and out, no reservations, first come first served(actually what she says is that so many people come and they go, and when she first enters in the morning she isn’t sure who she will find, and must introduce herself in the beautiful way that she does to the new riders sleeping in a different bed)
Got to the airport and now this …..
Lesson #1 Don’t buy a one way ticket into another country unless you are a citizen of that country, even if you do have proof that your motorcycle is arriving at the same destination, way bill in hand.
Lesson #2 Be quick to purchase an online ticket out of that country so you don’t lose the first ticket, that cost me.
Lesson #3 Don’t do your tax refund for purchased goods at the last minute if you don’t have the required paperwork.
Lesson #4 Don’t get all wound up and buy a glass of wine in the airport, unless you have a lot of Argentinian pesos to waste.
Lesson #5 Always get to the airport early (not a problem for me), just in case you need to deal with all the other lessons listed above, and so you have time for a quiet smoke in a cloudy room.
Lesson #6 If you really want to feel good about the little Spanish you’ve learned in seven months, hang around the airport.
I fell asleep after dinner and woke up to this in the morning ….
It’s been a while since I added a license plate to the beginning of the country. There isn’t one though that has South Africa written on them, but this is from the bigger of the provinces, and also wearing a bike like mine just a different color.
The plane arrived in Cape Town without a fuss so we all meandered down to the luggage carousal awaiting our bags. Mine came quickly, just a small backpack with clothes and toothbrush, oh and the boots I almost left behind, deciding I couldn’t leave these faithful boots to rot in the rain. As I was walking out of the ‘nothing to declare area’, I heard a sharp whistle and turned to see some guys gesturing for the couple ahead of me to stop, and as it turned out, for me to stop too. So I wandered back to the three plain clothed guys and the regular duty checker of bags …. The leader showed me the badge hanging around his neck but I didn’t take notice as I was too busy wondering why there there were so many black men around my feeble two bags …. ‘We want to look in your bags’, he said. ‘Okay, no problemo’. Then he said, ‘What business are you doing here?’, ‘Tourismo’ I answered, unable to shake the Spanish language yet. ‘Is it’, he said. ‘Yes’, I answered, not sure what he meant by ‘Is it’ without the question mark. ‘Where are you staying?’ ‘At a hostal in Cape Town’. ‘Is it. Do you want me to come with you?’ ‘What? Why?’ And that’s when the guy looking through my water proof bag of papers came across my British Passport, handing it to the leader. ‘Why are you hiding such things?’ ‘I’m not hiding anything you got it from right there’, pointing to my shoulder bag that the checker had almost emptied by now. He flipped through the pages, ‘Brand new, no stamps’. ‘Well that’s what you do when you’re preparing to ride a motorcycle around the world, you get a new passport’. ‘What business are you doing here?’ ‘Nothing, riding around on my motorcycle’. ‘Is it’. ‘Why are you doing this?’. ‘Why are you shaking?’ ‘Because I just landed here in Africa for the first time and you’re making my adrenaline go crazy’. ‘Is it’. ‘What do you mean when you say ‘Is it’, ‘yes’ or ‘no?’ ‘Okay, we will go upstairs now’. ‘What do you mean upstairs? I think I want to speak to the police’. He showed me another badge and this time I read and examined the I.D., police. ‘We are very serious about this’. ‘About what?’ ‘Let’s go’. ‘Fine’. So I followed the leader while the other two walked behind us through some doors, up some stairs and past a few offices and into the interrogation room. ‘Please have a seat’. I chose the one I would sit in regardless of the circumstances, and he chose the one opposite. ‘Did you eat anything on the plane?’ ‘Yeah’. ‘What?’ ‘The pasta, but I should have had the beef the ladies beside me were eating’. ‘Why?’ ‘Because the pasta was hard and stale at the ends and the sauce wasn’t very good’. ‘Did you take anything to eat from someone in Buenos Aries? Did anyone ask you to eat something for a little bit of money?’ ‘No’. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Yeah’. ‘If you are lying to us it will be very big trouble for you’. ‘Look I told you, I’m here to see Africa for the first time and I don’t find this to be a very warm welcome’. ‘There are first times for everything’. The three of them spoke in another language and then he said, ‘We are taking you to the hospital’. ‘The hospital, what for?’ ‘We are going to see if you are lying’. ‘How are you going to do that?’ ‘We are going to take an x-ray of your stomach’. ‘What? Are you kidding me? Look I told you I’m here to see Africa but if you really want to take an x-ray of my stomach then go ahead but I don’t have anything’. He got up and walked out of the office and then there was silence. Then the second guy left and then it was just me and the third guy with the nice face. ‘What language are you speaking?’, I asked. ‘Xhosa’. ‘Is this a mix of languages?’ ‘There are eleven languages in Africa’. ‘Oh, well I’ll try and listen more so I can begin to understand something eventually like all the other languages I’ve been experiencing the last eight months’. ‘Are you sure you don’t have any drugs in your stomach?’ ‘Yes I told you, do you think I’m a stupid man? I don’t have time for this’. ‘Is someone waiting for you outside?’ ‘No, but how much will it cost me for a taxi to the center of Cape Town?’ ‘It’s hard to say, maybe 170 to 200 rand’. ‘Do they have meters or should I negotiate first?’ ‘It’s hard to say’. ‘Are you married?’ ‘No’. ‘Do you have children?’ he asked. ‘Yes, that beautiful girl in my wallet’. Then the leader came back inside looking for such and such a paper, pulling in and pulling out the same forms like he couldn’t find the one he was looking for, until finally he found the hospital one or something I don’t know. He put it down on the table and left the room again. Me and the other guy just sat there, me tapping on the table to imaginary music and he I don’t know. Then a black woman entered the room and said, ‘Markus’. ‘Yes’. ‘Where are you traveling?’ ‘I don’t know exactly, but somewhere up to the north of Africa on the east side I think, I have to do some research while I’m here, Cape Town to Cairo basically’. ‘It can be dangerous, be careful’. ‘Thanks’. And she left the room. ‘Who was that?’ I asked. ‘The Captain’. Then the leader returned and basically all was forgotten, except he had to fill out a form and ask me some standard questions and then video me sitting there and he also took some stills. At one point another guy came in and said, ‘Let me get this straight, you were going to the hospital but now you’re going to breakfast?’ A bit more jovial Xhosa talk and then another woman entered to joke around with the gang and then I was lead out of the offices, down the stairs and on my way again. ‘Thanks for your time Mr. Markus’. ‘Well I’d like to say thanks but I don’t feel like saying that but I understand you have a job to do so anyway yeah okay, bye’. And I left …. welcome to Africa I was thinking. Way back at the beginning of the search in the declaration area I noticed the checker guy take one of my information cards quite casually, I suppose so they can investigate more. I hope if you are reading this gentleman, that I have accurately told the story and I wish you all good health and spirits.
I checked into the hostel, changed rooms, had a cat nap, managed to find a bank machine that will work with my card, found a decent map of Cape Town to Cairo, and met a tour guy who invited me back to his shop for any questions I had, found a great deal on a camel back at 50% off (leaks gotta take it back, took it back doesn’t leak), wandered through some motorcycle shops to see what they have, found the Kawasaki shop for parts and arranged times and such, bought yet another converter for power, and now I am sitting on the deck that surrounds the second floor of this old hostel on Long street, listening to the sounds and watching the people. I have to admit that it wasn’t a particularly great day but I did manage to stay cool and make use of the time. This being said, I will be happy to get out onto the road and to really explore this continent. I miss my bike. Actually that reminds me, the leader asked me at the end of the general form he had to fill out, what race are you? And I said, what? And he said are you white, coloured or black. And I said, well I’m always confused by the meaning behind race, but I suppose I’m white right now, but maybe my race is black I don’t know. I think he circled white.
I went to pick up my bike this morning but customs wasn’t open so it was a waste of a trip, and two cab rides. So I went for a walk down by the docks and hopped on a water taxi to do a little touristy thing, and to find a book on traveling Africa.
This boat, sorry if there is a better name, catamaran I suppose, anyway this craft went around the world in 74 days, a world record.
Apart from walking around, not much to say, just looking forward to getting out onto the roads to see this big world.
Deciding where to go is a bit daunting, as Africa is so huge. Wow, I don’t even know what to say. I just stare at the map and look in the book and then stare at the map again and again. I did this all night until falling asleep.
This morning I was checking my email, actually getting some advice from Scott who is somewhere up north, heading into Kenya soon I think. He gave me some good advice already, especially about how difficult it is to get money in Zimbabwe, nowhere to be found, hmmmm. So while I was doing this I heard a language I know very well, and the type of voice that uses this language …. ‘Okay lock it up, standby, roll cameras, action!’ So I leaned over the balcony and sure enough, a film crew, with pylons and all …
…. no sound crew but they’re shooting a commercial for the ‘Fifa World Cup’.
Later I was having something to eat here, and the film crew made a mini move from where they were down the street, up to here, four blocks away. This was great, cause I got to watch how organized the locations people were, how planned the parking was and how the whole flow worked. Pretty good, but a small crew to deal with.
And again from the balcony of the Blue Mountain Hostel, I watched the crew work, the action, the cut and the new set ups. Actually, at one point I had to leave because it was too much like work (after all I am in Africa), so I was talking about various things with some local friends I have met here over the last three days. Andre and Andre, both cool dudes, one works here and the other is the son of the owner, and Papa G, a small, odd and interesting man who is semi-famous here in Cape Town, with over 1300 facebook friends (not that I know if that’s good or not). I learned a great deal from all three, and have been adjusting, or should I say listening to the options of how to travel this country; every little whisper is much greater than any page in a travel book.
Later I returned to watch the crew, and this time I studied the people as if I was on set, and for a couple of hours until they called ‘wrap’. The light was fading so this is always the most interesting high pressure period.
I figured out almost everyone’s positions, from production manager to the trainee grip. I saw the actors, and the actors who aren’t paid to be, but are paid anyway. I followed the eyes on eyes, every calculated move, and every adaptation. Oh and there were some great film posers, especially the on set medic, green city overalls with reflective strips, blonde spiky hair, chatting up all the extras. Hope he knows how to fix people. I got so caught up in it I was biting to go down there and start working. I think I’m ready to work on a movie again. I wanted to go down there and start waving my pole around, having already determined who needs the most understanding, but not necessarily in the correct order. Then they called ‘Wrap’! And of course almost everyone disappeared very quickly, except the camera, grip and electrics who were busy wrapping. Ahhhh, the calm again ….. it’s noteworthy that the production manager stayed, and was busy talking to the heads of department about future money and time, I like PM’s that come to set when all the drama is gone to talk business. Also another note, the DP/Director walked off like he had been in a horrific battle, two servants toddling beside, and no he didn’t thank the crew for a good day’s work, or the light for his smoke or a bottle of water from his Gaffer.
The next day, time to get the bike!! I have to admit I was half expecting the undercover police from the airport waiting where my bike was stored, with all my stuff all over the place, or just waiting to go through the stuff. I didn’t really care to tell you the truth, except for all the time that would have been lost. Anyway, everything was going very well… go over here, go over there, pay this, sign that, show this, walk down there, come with me …. and then I got to customs. While I was watching the nice lady stamp my carnet and fill out a form, a man came into the room and he was looking at me …. I finally looked back realizing he wasn’t looking at the people behind me and gave him a nod and a smile and he said, ‘You haven’t been here before?’ ‘No’ I said smiling, ‘Did you think I was someone else?’ ‘No. I never forget a face’. And then some guy waiting for some papers from the customs people added, ‘Either do I’. I shrugged my shoulders and off he went to do something somewhere. Again I have to admit, I imagined he had seen my poster mug shot in a back office somewhere and again I was expecting my bike to be interrogated this time (see bike! Now you know how I feel). But they never came. I put the bike back together again, with a couple of security people bored but watching and asking some questions, and then I was done. (I cut that spot open for the customs lady to see the VIN number)
I meant to take pictures of the small re-build but once doing it I forgot. I knew the bike would start, but I was happy when she did. Then I road out of customs, and into Africa. I needed gas and to fill the tires with more air as I had only pumped them up with a hand pump to have enough pressure to ride to a gas station. Back in B.A., the guy who packed the bike let out a lot of air pressure. On my first road through the gates I realized I was on the wrong side of the road when I got to a Stop sign (which means I was on the right instead of the left). So after telling myself periodically for all the days leading up to this day to stay to the left, I did not, as I wasn’t thinking about the road; only the bike, the sound of the bike, the balance, the brakes, the throttle. And as it turned out, I wasn’t on the wrong side because it was a one way for my direction. However before turning onto the busy side road, I made sure I was thinking about staying to the left, and did so all the way to Cape Town.
On the way back to the hostel I stopped in at Mike Hopkins Shop, a local Kawi dealer who I’ve visited in the last couple of days to arrange parts. I asked Gareth who runs the shop if it would be okay to borrow a pan and do an oil change, ‘No problem’. Once I did, I noticed a ton of metal shavings on the magnetic plug and inside where the oil filter is (sometimes there a few specks here and there but this was a lot). I showed Gareth and Robin and we all went wow. I’ve never seen this inside my bike before and I’m somewhat concerned. So to make a very long story short, of which I will elaborate more on when all the pieces of the puzzle come together, I am planning to just tour around close to the vicinity of Cape Town to await parts, and a shock, but I will as I said, explain more on this later, great story though I must say. I am first going to go down toward the point of South Africa, to meet an HU woman named Sandi, who also runs a motorcycle tour company and who has also ridden east Africa solo in 2007. She has been very gracious and I’m looking forward to shooting the breeze. And depending on the timing of events of which I have not yet described, I will ride around until it’s time to return to Cape Town and make the final preparations for the long way north.
Excerpt From Journal …. DAY 259 CAPE TOWN Made triple sure the bike was at the airport, deciphering between the various accents one at a time, one phone call to the same different four people, and finally yes, all the information laid out without question, except upon arriving I learned that yes my bike was here, but customs was not, come back on Monday. Damn, again my identity hides among the crates of other one’s, behind the red tape, but at least a possible reality is still here. We are this close to exploring together again, me and she; it’s like saying you have a girlfriend but she isn’t here, that she’s at a friends house, well actually this guy I know’s place, a little that is. However still, the moment is … “Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved before”. (sigh) Yeah okay, maybe, but what about right now? I wanna ride, she wants to ride, and yet she’s not here, but then she adds’ Either is he’. Touche. A mutual indifference to the same confusion. A mutual indifference to the same conclusion. And so this is what it comes down to; we are not the same and we are in different worlds one would say, though thankfully always riding these dreams ….. (crazy doodling break) …. and now my piano is gone, she’s not here, and either am I apparently; waiting for those meandering notes still again. “Cause I Love” as my daughter sings …. I’m overwhelmed …. I have to cut the map into pieces, there isn’t enough room for the map to fold into the tank bag without ruining first. Cut the map into pieces, and explore one step at a time (and that way you won’t ruin a map you refold and refold over and over again, destroying every place you haven’t been, preserving only where you are and not where you’re going)
Just getting used to the new camera, but also just taking pictures ….
On the road again …. leaving Cape Town for a wee ride to the south ….
… heading out on the road was nice I haven’t really ridden anywhere except to and from two different airports in the last two and a half weeks. As mentioned before I met a woman online, Sandi, through Horizons Unlimited, so I rode down to Fish Hoek to visit her at Steve’s shop, Classic Bikes.
They were both so nice and got me to pull my bike inside and then we talked and had lunch in the shop. Steve was making coffee, working on various bikes and chatting with me about my bike. After learning a great deal about African travel from Sandi who has a book entitled “A Girl, A Bike, A Dream”, she gave me a map of a nice camp ground in Nooerdhoek, and so off I went. Sandi’s website and motorcycle tour company is found here …..
I unknowingly rode past the campsite but ended up on this spectacular rode toward Chapman’s Peak, eventually turning around and pulling into Chapman’s Peak Camping/Caravan. Excellent spot.
And here I was welcomed by four moto’s and their German riders, plus a German couple driving a Mercedes truck. They are all wrapping up their respective journeys, all of them meeting each other along the way down from Germany to the bottom of South Africa. They welcomed me with dinner and we talked into the night, a little of everything was learned and I have much to prepare for in the Northern countries like Sudan, this I heard too from Sandi earlier. Anyway, in the morning we shared breakfast and I will see them all tonight before they leave the next morning up the south west coast. I’m staying behind to ride with Sandi and her guy Colin tomorrow and then apparently on Sunday I will be trapped in the campground as the largest bicycle race in the world will pass right in front of me. That should be interesting, and maybe I’ll get a picture of Lance Armstrong ripping by ….
Today is March 12th, 2010.
Early Saturday morning I rode to Fish Hoek to meet Sandi and Colin, to ride with them to a vineyard to hang with a group of riders doing a motorcycle off road course that Sandi and her partner’s operate. I followed Colin who is a moto racer, he jumped a few sidewalks, and did a couple of wheelies on the way to the vineyard.
Some of the students had experience and some not much. There was also a Canadian woman who used one of Sandi’s bikes to do the course, to refresh her skills before going with Sandi and a bunch of riders on a three day riding trip. Her name is Carol and she has a F650 back in Ontario.
I took off my panniers and top box to participate in the exercises as well. It’s a great course and Peter the main instructor is very good at making people feel confident and relaxed. I had never tried any of these low speed exercises so it was fun to try them.
We all had lunch together and then the bikers continued with more training. I was tired from the going away party for the Germans the night before and frankly, I didn’t want to practice and put strain on my bike, it has to go a long way and I know how to brake down hill on gravel and other such things so I just hung around and talked with Sandi and Carol. Later we all had a drink together and then I followed Colin part way back and then we separated as he was stopping to meet some friends. There are lots of great roads so I took one I hadn’t ridden before to get back to Nooerdenhoek.
Thanks to Sandi’s text message, I woke up at 7am and walked from the campsite to the main road to take pictures of the lead group in the biggest bicycle race in the world (most competitors I assume).
Here is the lead pack, a group of South African riders, and apparently one of these guys won the race but I don’t know which one.
All day people were riding along the road, and people cheering from the sidelines. Later Colin and Sandi showed up to see if I wanted to walk with her dogs on the beach.
Later on we went for dinner and then I crashed in my tent. Sometime in the evening I heard some of the Germans return and this morning we had breakfast together. Now I must research for the trip, and prepare some other things for the bike and my set up. Today is Monday March 15th, 2010.
Back in Buenos Aries I wrote to the company that built my rear shock, Progressive Suspension …..
Hi Justin,
You probably don’t remember me, but my name is Markus and you sent me a Progressive Shock to just outside Portland, Maine, to save me from my original shock that I pogo’d on for 8,000km’s in Canada before riding into the States. I am now in Buenos Aries after 40,000km’s, and heading for Cape Town, Africa in a few days. The reason I’m writing is this shock has been incredible! Not only did I ride with various bikers with various bikes and their shocks all the way down and up the famous Ruta 40; ie: BMW, KTM, KLR, DR …. most of these rides have had re-builds on the rear shocks once or several times. The black beauty I have has withstand-ed incredible duress, and only now have I realized while getting my bike ready for the next continent that the shock has some burring on the rod, but still the seals have not broken or leaked. Really, I rode the same roads as others and with more weight maybe and still this shock holds on …. however I am wondering and asking for some advice …. in Cape Town I am doing a lot of work on the bike as the parts are cheaper than BA, however to re-build the shock what should I be aware of and can you suggest or maybe if your company feels inclined, send me the necessary re-build parts, I don’t know I’m just asking. Right now while I write this email I’m listening to a bunch of guys talking about rear shocks and all their theories, and most of them as you learn to understand when on the road for so long, are mostly talking sh&t. All I ever say is what I’ve been through and what shock I have and they don’t say anything, they don’t even know your company’s name. Crazy eh, considering I was lucky enough to get the advice to buy your shock from the guru’s of shocks in Canada.
Anyway, I have no leaks, have been through hell, and have small burrs on the rod. I met and rode with a couple from Austraila, Ken and Carol, who are on their second tour of the world and after many re-builds has since put a synthetic sock over his shock to avoid the small rocks and dust from burring the rod. Does your company make these for your shocks, otherwise I will sacrifice the second sock of mine, the first one used for my air filter.
Even now I’ve just stopped typing to once again interrupt the conversation to talk about Progressive Suspension Shocks and still they do not know and these people are burning gasoline all over the world. I just finished telling these guys to get one of your shocks, but you guys should tell this community of world travelers to take hold of this market, only because you deserve it.
Okay enough, thanks for your time and consideration,
Markus Wade
Markus,
Justin had forwarded your email around the company (we love hearing this stuff!!) and are obviously more than impressed by your ride! I would love to use some of your pics as well as quotes in our marketing. I do not have much budget, but I can certainly send you a fresh shock and fork springs as you need them!
Hope to hear from you soon!
David Zemla
Director of Marketing
Progressive Suspension
——————————
6900 Marlin Circle
La Palma, CA 90623
PH: 714.367.1854
FX: 714.523.3220
I’m so impressed with this company, on many levels. Here is their website ….
ProgressiveSuspension
So anyway, I’m waiting for the shock to arrive here in Cape Town, so hanging out with the Germans at the campsite. During the day I go for rides around the peninsula, always stopping in at Classic Bikes in Fish Hoek to have coffee and talk with Sandi and Steve. Steve calls me ‘The Mountie’.
I’m happy I took the picture below, because this is the day the turtle undershell went missing. The next morning I noticed it wasn’t on the bike where it has been since Central America. At first I thought someone took it, but later in the back of my mind I remembered hearing a ‘pop’ sound when I was riding, thinking ‘what was that?’. It could have been the shell as it’s very hard, I don’t know, but every time I ride on the road where I heard the ‘pop’ sound I look on the side of the road to see if I can spot it there.
And yet another film shoot, well actually a photo shoot, right in the campsite where I’m staying.
Here Robin is driving his truck to meet with the other Germans to have pizza.
Today I road into Fish Hoek to help Sandi pick up her F650 and return it to the shop. She had a terrible accident in Namibia in September ’09, riding a dirt/gravel/sand road at 120km/hr, her rear wheel was in a slide and the pressure on the metal burst apart more than half the spokes, causing her and the bike to cart wheel down the road. Colin was with her at the time and she was in terrible shape. He stayed with the bikes after they got a car to stop, loaded Sandi in and they drove her to Windhoek and the nearest hospital. She was unconscious or delirious, and three times she was turned away because she couldn’t prove she had health insurance due to her state. Long story short, her face was scratched and bleeding, broken nose, ribs, dislocated shoulder, bruised legs and her wrist was broken into many many pieces. In the end she recovered from everything but almost lost the use of her one hand, and almost had it cut off. Now she has a plate, and various pins in there and she is recovering really well. It’s still hard for her to ride her smaller bikes but she can still ride. Anyway, a local mechanic has been re-building her bike and today we picked it up, still in rough shape but much better than before.
Since the accident Sandi organized the ‘ICE’ program, which is a dog tag or bracelet that has one’s important information when in an accident. I have ordered one for myself. Okay, time to get back to the shop for afternoon coffee, The Mountie can’t be late.
In the morning I rode to Fish Hoek to meet Sandi and Carol to go for a a 500km ride to the Little Karoo. While we were getting ready to leave this guy came into the shop asking if they had any Suzuki stickers or any sticker for that matter. No Steve said and asked what kind of sticker and for what. He answered that his bike was a little plain and needed a sticker. So Ben from Austin, Texas, if you’re still reading this blog, you’ll be happy to know I said, ‘I have a sticker!’. And I gave him the black and white ‘Wahoo’ sticker all the way from Texas. The guy was pretty excited and I said I doubt anyone will see one of these stickers in all of Africa.
After this the ladies and I rode off ….
And we arrived at our destination 30km’s outside of Outdshoorn, South Africa at a retreat called Amber Lagoon. This excellent place has bungalows, safari tents with beds, a dorm for backpackers, two places for camping and a fantastic lounge and eating area. This retreat is run by a German couple, Kurt and Susan, who are fantastic hosts and Kurt is a really good chef.
Here is my camping spot, high above the retreat for 50 rand per night ($7Cdn). If anyone is ever in the area then definitely come here ….. Amber Lagoon
After breakfast we went for a ride into the mountains ….
There was a motorcycle rally over the weekend so we saw bikes everywhere, going to and fro …
In the evening Kurt made another excellent dinner with Ostrich meat, fresh German noodles, salad and vegetables accompanied with red wine. Mmmmmm….. the next morning the guys and gals left to ride back to Fish Hoek, and I stayed behind to enjoy this place some more. I’m still waiting for the shock that Progressive Suspension is currently building before sending here to South Africa so I have some time to spare. And since it is quite economical for me to stay here with Kurt and Susan, I’ve decided to explore the area some more and to enjoy the countryside until it is time for me to ride back to Cape Town and the Cape peninsula.
This is the pathway up to the top level where my tent is situated.
And here the moment before an afternoon nap. In the night another excellent meal with some other ‘overnighters’ staying here, although I opted to read my book about Africa and eat sort of alone. Then back up to my abode to have a quiet fire, while listening to the Ostrich, which sound like Lions, and the Jackals laughing in the night.
Here are a bunch of Ostrich I scared by riding by on my way to Oudtshoorn to find a place to have lunch and update FTG. The stupid birds were running in the direction of my bike, at least I’ve heard they’re quite stupid, and aggressive too. One of the German’s back in Nooerdhoek, Biggie, another woman who rode down Africa, was attacked by an Ostrich when she was by herself in a game reserve. The Ostrich ran at her, so she stopped her bike in some deep sand. Then the Ostrich opened it’s wings and made a sound like a lion and then started kicking her and the bike. So she lay on the ground for three hours, slowly crawling back to the gate she had gone through a kilometer back, and each time she moved to quickly, the Ostrich would kick her again and again. She was lucky because they usually rip open the stomachs of people and other animals. So three hours later, after already accepting her eventual death, which incidentally Biggie described as quite peaceful, a truck arrived to save her from the Ostrich. She crawled into the truck, got the bike and then returned to Windhoek, Namibia where she stayed for a week or so to recover from her massive bruises, her whole body black and blue, and that’s with the protective riding gear and helmet on. In the end the game wardens returned for the Ostrich, as it had already attacked others in the past, and they shot it. Back in Windhoek, a friend of Biggie’s in the area, picked her up and took her out for a big Ostrich steak which she said was divine, and in the same breath, felt badly for the other one who could have killed her.
Today is March 23rd, 2010.
This is Lizzy, one of the three dogs here. She killed a Scorpion yesterday when we were moving one of the safari tents. In the past she has killed three cobras, however she is sweet on me.
I went for a walk on Kurt and Susanna’s land, about 6 km’s deep ….
I found a nice walking stick in the beginning of the hike, both for walking and snakes or whatever animal doesn’t agree with me.
The Springbok ….
While on my hike I also found something that is going to be the new identity for my bike here in Africa. I forgot to take a picture so I will reveal the new look once I have finished fastening to the bike.
I wanted to do some cosmetic work on the bike, plus re-pack things a little, and make a sheath for my machete so I rode into Oudtshoorn to get some supplies. I went to the local tire shop and asked if they had a tube they didn’t want and sure enough they gave me one.
I wrapped the rubber with duct tape and made a top so I can pull it out when needed, and also to keep the rain out. I’m afraid it looks a little bit like a gun but it’s mostly concealed on my bike. Uh oh, I can see a whole array of possible problems from this, but hopefully all will be fine, it’s just a tool.
I bought a nice Springbok skin from Kurt and Suzanna to put over top of my Mum’s sheepskin because the hair is starting to fall out, so hopefully this will help protect the necessary bum comforter. Animal skin/hair really helps with the heat or when it’s cool, and dries quickly after the rain. So now my bike has transformed from the Kawasaki Sea Turtle, to the Kawasaki African Springbok. I found the horns on my walk around K&S’s land. I bought the leather strands in Edmonton, Alberta some two years ago with my actor friend David, who is part Indian at a Native store. I’ve been carrying them all this time, knowing one day I would use them for something.
Please allow me to present to you, Gaucho, a South African dog.
…. and Pauline, an ex-street dog.
For three days I’ve had my daughter Sadie’s song in my head, ‘When I’m Dreaming’. Out loud and in my head the same different lyrics over and over again, which has been nice as it’s a beautiful, wise song. I’d like to post it on this site but I don’t think Sadie would approve as she is now 14 and was 10 years old when she originally wrote and recorded the song … but trust me, she can sing.
This couple from Holland, Honey and Rue, and in their eighties, have come to Amber Lagoon five different times over the years. Honey and I shared my little portable speaker and took turns playing from our own ipods, she chose one, then I chose one and so on …. . Later K&S&I played some cards, and again I didn’t quite get all the rules of the game but this morning I think I’ve finally figured it out. Each time I laid my cards down they said ‘Good, but no, almost’. Damn.
Excerpts from journal …. Day 262 Cape Town …. I have a lot of respect for the parking guys on the street, I like their professions, these hosts who are sometimes paid by the city but most times not, just guys trying to make a living by waving one into a empty spot and supervising the vehicles while one is gone. In Cartagena, Columbia, one street guy put cardboard over the seat of my bike to keep it from getting hot. And the one thing they can all do is visually steer any vehicle into a parallel park …. watching them fall out of love is torture, and watching her with Madagascar man is envious, and yet it’s so so awful, they have little words and her body is no longer his, and there are men lined up to have hers, all within this little place…. sweet dreams, beau reve, dulce suenos, sube traume, prettige droom …. I left to learn more about life, I didn’t leave life to learn, except I did, and I don’t know who I am, though I can confidently say, I am who I am …. oh, just the scent of her neck, this one in my dreams, I would always be in her debt, but not really also, I am no one’s, I do not appear before the plenty ….
Riding back from town I rounded a corner and saw these Ostrich running at me! I realized they were transporting them to another field so I took this picture and rode into a school yard and out of the way.
I stopped in Calitzdorp to look inside a hand made pipe shop and when I returned outside all these bikers were here around my bike. They are called ‘The Wild Dogs’, and were riding to a campsite to drink and eat meat and talk bikes. They invited me to come and I thought maybe but never did meet with them. When they said their good-byes they all took off doing wheelies, riding the pegs and mounting the saddles like they had horses. No, too much for me. Unfortunately I used my old camera which I can’t view, and accidentally cut off most of their head. When they left, I turned back to the young ladies from the shop and they were laughing with me. ‘That was crazy eh’. ‘Yeah, crazy’ she answered.
Every evening at Amber Lagoon I sit to write and watch the sunset/moonrise.
Elsie and Bernie from Deutchland. We had a nice time together, and Bernie won most of the card games. Elsie invited me to camp in her backyard near Hamburg when I get to Germany. I’ve met so many Germans I must go to Germany, and to Berlin.
I bought these sandals in Mexico for $15 dollars, but I blew one walking up the hill to my tent, so again the rubber tube came in handy.
I ran into Briget (Biggie), one of the Germans from Noordhoek, in Oudtshoorn, and I invited her to come to what I described as Paradise, and she did.
New customers, German of course, Alex and Julia working and living in South Africa at a wealthy B&B for Cape Townians. They left in the morning, after complaining of their hangovers. The neighbours, white Afrikaans’s and ostrich farmers, Ernie and Lohan came for dinner too. I don’t know what time they finished but I think it was a late one.
Now I must ride back to the retreat to enjoy the sunset and full moonrise. Ciao.
The following day I was leaving Oudtshoord, as this car was parked awkwardly at a corner so I rode around and looked inside and saw Julie and Alex, the young ladies from the night before, their car unable to start. So they asked me to try and it was turning over but no fuel was getting in so I let the car sit and then this guy I was talking to back at a store came strolling over and we talked about the car and it’s condition and decided that the fuel filter may have some dirt in it. And sure enough a little blow in the filter and vroom the car started. So again we said our good-bye’s and we left in different directions.
I woke up and it was a cloudy day, so I sat in my tent and wrote, and eventually went back to sleep. Normally it would be too hot to stay in the tent, but today was one of those days to dream, listen to music, and do almost nothing.
For Biget, she too finds the tranquility here, and is in no need to rush off to wherever the next destination is.
However, I am a little restless and ride around in the day, checking out new roads. The retreat is getting full as it is a long weekend and there is also a huge festival in town so everything everywhere is booked. We’ve been helping out with Kurt and Suzanna, I doing a little bartending which is weird, for the moment I sold one beer my identity had changed from motorcycle traveler, to a guy who gets the drinks.
Excerpt from journal …. speaking with some guys who only ask questions and never make their own answers, I got angry at one point, frustrated beyond belief, peeing in the night on the rocks by my tent, staring at the full moon’s clouds, unable to sleep without the image of a woman’s silhouette come morning time, staring blankly into space touching only a dream’s fury resting this way and that, while a lady lies naked next to me fully clothed dreaming of a man in a frock coat and shiny boots, bent over backward trying to figure something out about nothing, into the dust, under the sink, behind another door; ‘what kind of job allows you to travel like this, what kind of chain do you use, have you had any problems, what will you do when you get home, are those good things, how many kilometers did you go ….?’ ‘What’s you name, I’m Markus. Do you have any toilet paper? No that’s okay, I’ll just use my hand … yes this one, or the other I don’t know … no I don’t know … really I don’t … it doesn’t matter just as long as I go … thanks …. I’ll be wary of that’; that thing that goes bang in the night, just as the clock stands still, racing for another time before last nights journey, those series’ of calamities designed to enlighten thee, where plagiarism is encouraged by teachers, when one life is treated just the same as another, one … breath … one cell in a cell of many little ones, empty or full, climbing here or there, no lo say, it’s crazy when you don’t know the answers before the questions, how can a question be asked without some sort of answer first, like the question before the question … into the dust, under the sink, behind another door.
Every once in a while it’s difficult to answer, but mostly it’s a pleasure and also an earned responsibility, and a fortunate gift to have the opportunity of answering; just every once in a while it’s like repeating the broken arm story as everyone can see you have a cast.
A German family Biget and I had met in Nooerdhoek with all the other Germans, had some time to kill before returning home, so they showed up at Amber Lagoon for a sunset. Jasper the eldest, and Justu the youngest, great kids.
For two weeks I’ve been trying to capture these flock of birds but they never fly over, until this evening, the family must have brought them I said.
I was telling Jasper and his father Bjorn about some of the great pictures I’ve taken of fellow riders taking a piss, and vice versa, so when Jasper had to go he said get your camera ready Markus.
Biggie and I off to town for supplies for Kurt and Suzanna.
We stopped for lunch and next thing I heard was some beautiful piano music, and then realized it was live and looked around to find Biggie playing. Later I played and then a boy joined me to share chords and melodies.
Kurt making his famous crepe’s for the boys.
The next evening some new guests to watch the sunset, Stefanie and Lena, both German teachers working here in South Africa.
And of course Bjorn and his family stayed for another night ….
Bjorn and ….
…. his wife Katya.
We all had such a good time together but then the clouds came, and it was time to say good-bye to the German family, and then the next day good-bye to Birgit, and the next day I would say good-bye to Kurt and Suzanna, and the Amber Lagoon in the Klein Karoo. If you’re ever in the area, this is a must do place to stay …. AmberLagoon
So on my last night, I was rewarded with another spectacular sunset, with my Gargoyle friend, who I’d forgotten to take out of his little pouch for some time ….
… and a nice dinner with all of the people working the festival, artists, sellers, builders and even a sea Captain.
Excerpt from journal … Day 287 Tired and restless from not moving, Biggie too, melancholy and introspective. I’m thinking of going now, can’t wait for the shock any longer. Day 288 Biggie left today smiling, I will go tomorrow after my clothes dry, both east and west we leave a little time behind, from where voices carry this ebb and flow, tiny mists of the tide.
