Monday, 31 October 2016

Bike Stuff


To some, the Sertao is a poor man’s BMW GS. It’s not even a twin for god’s sake. It lacks the towering Tonka toy road presence of its big brothers. And it’s assembled in China. “That’s not a real BMW”. But for those who know, this bike kicks sand in the face of its beefy brethren. Off the shelf its hardy (no silly cylinders poking out), its handy off road (its thinish, tallish, has a 21 inch front wheel & fuel at the back), its frugal & will do 350KM on 14 ltrs (being a single means its sips fuel which means less weight) & it’s all day comfortable. Yes, it lacks top end speed but why do you need to do more than 80mph when you’ve got wildlife & wild people on the road. Yes, the only nod to modern equipment is ABS & heated grips but so what?  Simple is better. This is a bike that was discontinued (in Europe anyway) & brought back. There’s a reason for that.

This is the cape buffalo of biking in africa. Of the big “five”, I’d guess the buffalo is the least revered. It’s just a cow with funny horns isn’t it? It doesn’t roar, run, attack or kill anything. Boring really. The Sertao is under the radar “boring”, it just gets on with its business quietly munching miles. And in a country where extremes stand out, boring is good.

Boring normally means predictable which this Sertao hasn’t been. Ignore the oil & puncture interludes. The electrical problem should not have happened on a 3 year old bike. As the buffalo is overlooked by poachers & selfie stick waving tourists, has the Chinese assembled G650 Sertao been overlooked for development by BMW?  

Are you saying I've got a fat ass?

If the Sertao is the Cape Buffalo of bikes, the R12 Advenure is the Hippopotamus. Always attracts lots of attention. Looks the business. Podgy but revered. And like the hippo, the R12 can run -  fast. The hippo loves water, the R12 loves tarmac. Both can move on the rough stuff – but not for too long. Apparently, if you come across a hippo on land you should never walk between it & water. Same applies to the big R12. If you come across one in the sand, don’t block its access to tarmac,. It could kill you.

Great bike but the final word is cost. The R12 would have cost me three times the amount of the Sertao.

Sadly, the Cape Buffalo Sertao is no longer in production so I will have to find a new best friend. F800 ?


Tomorrow's choice?

Observations


12K KM in 6 weeks may sound a lot. It’s not really. Africa is huge so there are big distances between stops. Really, I took my time. After an initial surge of enthusiasm, I soon settled into morning only travelling to avoid the heat. This also means you’ve got the rest of the day to decide whether to stay on. My last week was a bit rushed with a series of 500K days but on good roads so it just meant hours in the saddle.

In short, this is an area of the world with endless possibilities & places to explore. I only scratched the surface (I completely bypassed Namibia for example). Compared to northern (& I guess central) Africa, it’s an easy place to access. It’s a stable, well connected area covering hugely diverse landscapes. The people are friendly, helpful, open & genuinely interested in what you’re up to. Yes, the big hitter tourist brigade has hiked pricing for the average traveller but there are always ways around this.

Of all the countries, Botswana had the biggest impact. Here the wildlife remains wild. There are few fences. It is lightly populated (the Kalahari is after all a desert). Politics has had a lighter touch here. People seem to trust their politicians & the social divides are less evident (although I’m sure still exist). The wealth created from mining (notably diamonds) feels better distributed in infrastructure. Yes, the tourist machine is in full swing around the Okavango & Chobe but people tend to fly in, bus around & fly out.



All countries I visited had challenges – most notably Zimbabwe where people had just given up on government. A new currency was due to be launched to replace use of the dollar. With hyper inflation, expectations were low. In both the old Rhodesian countries & South Africa, the transition from a colonial system to something new was definitely work in progress. This has produced an underlying uneasiness – particularly (but not exclusively) in the white community. Typically, a white person lives in a fortified complex with layers of security a bank would be happy with. I was asked not to walk outside the perimeter of my patio as the lasers will trigger alarms & an armed response. Personally, I never had a concern about security. Mind you, I probably didn’t exude wealth with my dodgy grey/ginger beard, dirt encrusted gear & untidy bike. But for the average person (black or white) security is a big issue.

The colonial past has left deep scars. The middle class is growing but remains small. Social divisions are deeply entrenched. Most striking is the very rich & the very poor (there are plenty of black & white people begging in the cities). Taking a stroll down the coast in Cape Town, the road was lined with multi-million rand palaces with older, white guys driving growling Ferraris or Maseratis or riding a Harley Davidson (with the obligatory leather waistcoat). Younger white guys ride by at speed in packs on carbon fibre bicycles. Well dressed white women holding tiny dogs observe from white tiled balconies with glimpses of white leather & glass behind them. Meanwhile, the only black guys I saw (with one or two exceptions) were security guards or gardeners.  

In the midst of this social divide is the hugely rich natural world. To the richer, it’s a £300/night money making opportunity. To the poorer its food or easy money via poaching. Either way, Africa’s wildlife is being squeezed. To see South Africa's wild animals you have to visit a fenced reserve.

By contrast, I was bombarded with daily updates on the American presidential circus. There are differences & similarities. Western voters across the world seem disillusioned by politics & politicians - hence protest voting. Africans voters are disillusioned too. Worse though - they feel disempowered & distrustful (Mugabe/Zuma). Politics is similarly failing. In the US, it feels like a “lesser of two evils” choice – but at least there is a choice.

I met no one else travelling alone by bike (perhaps unsurprisingly). The majority were travelling by Safari bus. These are modified trucks with wider windows & wider tyres. Africa’s answer to going on a cruise. The group is cocooned for the majority of the time (or imprisoned depending on your view of your fellow passengers) & only released at pre-arranged venues where normality on the ground is suspended. I witnessed the arrival/departure of the Safari buses frequently. Exclusively white, European people step off, understandably uneasy they tend to politely dodge the market sellers & head for the nearest brand (e.g. Coke, Wimpey, McD). Ok but for me Africa is all about getting your hands dirty (a metaphor although my hands have been dirty throughout). In my view, it has to be experienced firsthand. And that does mean dirt, pollution, noise, bugs, chaos, hassle etc. It also means openness, friendliness & a willingness to help. The former is the dominant first impression & perhaps only impression from a Safari bus. The latter is a powerful & positive argument that despite its problems Africa will come out of this period of change stronger & more sustainable than before.  

My only complaint is beer – its lager or lager here. That said, even I will have to admit an ice cold one hits the spot in the heat. For clarity, though, this nod towards lager drinking is only a “stays on tour” compliment. Lager drinkers are of course destined to always remain at the very bottom of the UK ale drinking hierarchy.  


Saturday, 29 October 2016

Return to Cape Town

The last leg of my journey felt like a “bringing her home” leg. There were recommendations to deviate but I stayed more of less on the direct route. The weather remained unsettled. For the first time I had my inner jacket & heated grips on (a nod towards the imminent British winter I was coming back to).

I arrived to a glorious afternoon in Cape Town so immediately headed up Table Mountain. The tourist machine is in overtime here but for good reason. The setting is stunning. You can walk up but 99% of the tourists take the slicker than slick cable car. Me included. Before you know you’re on the table top. I headed off on the round the top walk. From the busyness of the cable terminal, people thinned out as I walked. The cloud was rolling in at speed. After a time, I realised I was alone in dense cloud. I could see my feet. The rest was guesswork. I turned around conscious my preparedness boiled down to shorts & a t-shirt.  




The following morning I returned the bike. I had done just under 10K on it (excluding the 2.5K I did on the big bike). The Sertao & me had established a bond. I was sorry to see it go. Yes it had its wobbles but who doesn’t. In fact, I decided we were growing like each other (in a “like owner, like dog” way). The Sertao is an acquired taste, no looker with its big beak, a bit temperamental & unpredictable. Could be a description of me.   

After dropping the bike off (“David, you’ve been gone so long, we’ve forgotten you still had the bike”), I headed off into town. Last time in Cape Town it was blowing a gale. This time it was picture perfect. I mooched around glad (for once) not to be on a motorbike saddle, drank beer (theme...) & admired some of the best modern sculptures I have seen in the National Museum.   


The Butcher Boys


Thursday, 27 October 2016

Knysna, the Garden Route


The Garden Route is a stretch of coastline between Port Elizabeth & Cape Town. Much lauded, its a playground between mountain forest & a picturesque coastline. Take a deep breath. You can smell the money. 

With only two days left before I give the bike back, it dawned on me I had 1000K to do to get to Cape Town. That's about 6 hours on the bike each day. Its possible but the downside is you end up with the posture of a baboon. And they know it. As I was riding by, baboons seemed to jump out from the verge, gesticulate &  jump back. They recognised one of their own.

The route is a coastal highway with mountains on one side & beach on the other. The road crosses many bridges that span river ravines.

I arrived in Knysna a bit jaded. The view over the bay from my overnight soon woke me up.  


As did the Fork Tailed Drongo that could be fed by hand (I was told).


I took a walk around the harbor. Whether its the motorbike or the miles, I felt roughish. Nothing a few beers can't sort I thought. How true. 


Wednesday, 26 October 2016

The Wild Coast

The Drakensburg range has many mountain roads. The region is largely agricultural with massive cattle ranches. This is a world away from the urban South Africa I had just left. White farmers manage vast acres of land. It looks organised & efficent. Fencing, no litter, no discarded vehicles, no animals on the road. I explored. Late morning, I realised I was lost & had done 300K. 


I needed to get to the "wild coast" for my overnight. That was 400K away from my starting point in the morning. I was still 400K after my mountain meandering. So, head down I got back on stanav & set off.



I was heading for Port St Johns. The problem was that I was on mountain roads. Hairpins, trucks, roadworks etc. meant progress was slow. I was about half way by mid afternoon. As I got closer to the coast the weather changed. The entire coastline was blanketed in sea fog. Not just fog but dense, dry ice fog. You could only see a car's length ahead. It felt like the fog was a wall out of which anything could emerge. I had about 150K to do (100M) but thought I had time before dark. Four hours later I arrived way after dark at 8PM. The road to Port St Johns took me up & down mountain passes. Zero visibility in the fog did not help me spot the wandering people, cattle, donkeys, dogs, stop/start taxis, trucks with no lights. My nerves were in tatters when I rode around a corner saw a dark shape, another & another in the road. I passed within touching distance between a group donkeys meandering across the road.
   
 



I arrived in darkness so it was not until morning that I could see the setting. Pounding sea & lush, quiet coastline. I was greeted by the owners dog.


And found a frog in my tank bag.



Monday, 24 October 2016

Winterton in the Drakensberg Range


Winterton in the Drakenberg Range

I exchanged the bikes in Pretoria. The starship was a pleasure but just a bit too OTT for downtown anywhere. It concerned me that I was in the same category as a Range Rover nob. God forbid. Back on the little bike it felt small -  like I should be pedaling.

Morning didn’t start well. Bike wouldn’t start (there’s a theme emerging here). Jeff got me started with jump leads. Well, the bike had been standing for a week so give it a break. I decide to rack some battery reviving KMs up. 250K later I stopped. Bike wouldn’t start. Local Afrikaner – “I have worked in Stockport” provided jump leads & I bit the biking bullet & turned back.
500K round trip for a new battery. Jason sorted me out. He was off to Namibia with a bunch of Russians at the weekend. Forecast was 40C+.

I re-traced my steps. Battery charged, I was back up & running. I headed for the Mountains – the Drakesenberg. The Golden Gate NP provided a spectacular backdrop. The road carves through Orange & red cliff faces. Hairpins surprised me as I looked in all directions but the right one.  

I am now in Winterton under a tree full of Lesser Masked Weavers – its dusk & they’re rousting. It’s a racket. 10K from my overnight stop the bike stopped. Blown fuse. Grrr..



Saturday, 22 October 2016

Centurion (Pretoria)

Back in South Africa, I needed to swap the bikes over. No surprise. They did not find anything to explain the electrical tomfoolery. They thought maybe my satnav which I wired onto the battery.Unlikely I thought as it has its own fuse but did not want to challenge as I'd dropped the starship enterprise when filling up in Mozambique leaving a scratch here & there. 

Back with my little thumper, I thought what to do. Geoff (who runs the guest house) suggested a local "Lion Park". 

Effectively a series of enclosures, the Lion Park was more open zoo than anything else. But the habitat & setting was as it would be where the animals roam freely (Kruger is just the other side of the mountains).


A giraffe led the way determined not to be hurried by a tourist bus.


It was in the early thirties. The lions were lazing (I have never seen them otherwise). "The males sleep 22 hours & make love around 50 times a day" said our guide. 

Nice life.