I met this character on the Adventure Rider forum and we started organising a ride out. We originally planned to go to Grabouw but the mountains were being washed away by torrential rain.
So I phoned this ‘LiveInTheOutdoors’ and we agreed to meet on Sunday at 13:15 at a designated point and then ride to West Beach near Melkbosstrand. It was a miserable day and we both silently wished the other one would chicken out.
It was the first time we had met face-to-face and what do you know… We were old army buddies! We were both in Platoon 5, Charlie Company at the Infantry school in Oudtshoorn and we had not seen each other since basic training 14 years ago! The coincidence was too much and we almost decided to forget about the riding and go for a drink instead.
But as they say, we didn’t get all dressed up for nothing…
Very cold and wet
Along the way to West Beach we prepared ourselves by going up and down huge landfills. George is the better rider between the two of us so I took his advice seriously and tried not to embarrass myself.
The first half of the sand riding went really smooth and I thought I was doing remarkably well for a first time sand rider. I didn’t go down once and at times Geo rge had to speed up when I started gaining on him. It was raining intermittedly but closing my visor caused it to steam up. Riding with it open blinded me because the sand kicked up by George got into my eyes.
I rounded a corner and drifter towards a sandbank. I turned the wheel to avoid it and went down.
Damn. I knew I was going to fall sometime but I never thought it could be so sudden and unexpected. For the next few minutes I did my best to enjoy myself but it was hard work staying up and my legs were killing me.
Parked up ahead was George’s Dakkie and h im looking concerned. He had lost his rear braking. A stone got wedged in the calliper and there was no way of getting it out. After fiddling with it he lost brake pressure entirely. We had nothing to bleed the system with and decided to press on. He would have to use the front brake from here on, not good but guaranteed to be fun.
We got to our first mud puddle and went through with only minor sliding. I decided to have me some fun and twisted the throttle wide open. I spun out and fell, ha ha ha, now wees havin’ sum real fun massa, yessir!
The next kilometre or so re quired much spinning and feet paddling with steam rising from our hardworking bikes.
George’s Dak got wedged down in a deep rut and consequently got stuck. I tried to ride my GS over the middelmannetjie but succeeded only in moving sideways like a crab. It looked spectacular but only served to get me stuck as well.
This is what happens when you help a buddy push his bike ou t of the mud!
After laughing at my mud soaked jeans George got his just desert and went down in the easiest place you can imagine. It was my turn to take the Mickey out of him!
Then I had my third tumble in a rutted track. The sand was loose despite the recent rains and I went down like a sack of potatoes.
I’m not sure why this particular fall affected me so much but from here on out I went down every five minutes.
It was emotionally tiring. The bike was heavy and lifting it up every five minutes was getting old really fast. Soon the giggles stopped and I became miserable. I think I might have spoilt our day a little with my negative attitude. George is a cool guy and just kept on encouraging me to get up and do better. I never felt like punching he’s teeth out but I sure wished he would have a tumble or two. That way I wouldn’t feel like such a dunce!
We finally arrived at the dunes of West Beach and I stopped for an energy drink and a piece of biltong (beef jerkey). The name ‘West Beach’ is a misnomer since it is by no means on the beach. The ocean isn’t even visible from the highest dunes, but the almost virgin sands are just as inviting.
By now I was a little fed up with sand and preferred to watch George race across the dunes.
I knew that the dunes would be easier to ride than the rutted tracks but the road behind us had sapped my very last two ounces of ‘fuck-yeah’. So I stayed down at the bottom and took many pictures. He tried my bike on the dunes and found it a bit harder to ride than his own and even the 1150Adventure. Go figure!
It was getting dark in a hurry and we decided to go home.
Of course there is always time for one more crash. I sighed but puckered up and decided to follow George’s advice to the letter. Second gear, Drop the clutch, Rise above the sand, Stand up, Look up, Relax, Have fun.
I got really good and all the weariness evaporated. I rode into a bush because I was getting a bit overzealous and stalled the engine again. Starting her up was not easy. All the falling and restarting had drained the battery and we realised that I could not afford to stall again, there was just not enough juice left in the battery and no way to push the bike through the loose sand.
I wish I could tell you that I rode the rest of the way like a pro but I can’t. I fell once or twice but it was OK. I was enjoying the ride now, I was learning, getting better in the sand and I never let the bike stall again.
Time was running out for George because he had to be at a meeting that same evening. We cut across country dodging holes, ridges and bushes. Suddenly we were back in civilisation with our bikes covered in a thick layer of mud and cakes of sand.
We both had big stupid grins and said our farewells. It was a great day and we really enjoyed it. That night I slept like a rock.
Guess what I’m doing next Sunday.
P.S. Just in case you were wondering… My bike has hardly a scratch on her at all. So don’t be a moffie and ride the bloody thing!
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