The Rookie

When George Clooney was asked what makes a man attractive he said a sense of humour. Obviously he couldn't say "if he looked like me", but I was more hoping for him to say a man that can admit he is a rookie without coming over as a being an inexperienced wuss at the same time.  When Dave our navigator and "team leader" for the day pointed out that the route he had planned for us was done "with the most inexperienced rider in mind", I knew he was refering to me and I couldn't help but feel like a wuss at that point. John the Salesman invited me to join himself, Dave and Graham for a breakfast run that would include a large section of gravel road. I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to get over my recently acquired fear of any road that does not resemble something similar to a runway at the O.R Tambo International Airport . After my recent fall I felt rather inexperienced and embarrased to say the least and not wanting to look like a wuss I knew that something had to be done. So I said "Yes, count me in".

We met very early at the BP filling station at Klapmuts. Dave showed us the route he had planned out with his GPS and GoogleEarth and what-have you, but all I could see was the yellow lines representing gravel roads. Dave mentioned something about "doing some highway" but later explained that he calls any section of tarred road a highway and that there wouldn't be much on this trip. At 8.30 we were heading towards Bonnievale via Franschoek and Villiersdorp even though I was pretty sure that there was just one road to Bonnievale and as far as I could remember it was "highway" across Worcester. Dave and his GPS proved me wrong. When we hit the first dirt just after Villiersdorp I realized that there are more than one road indeed, but definitely not all tarred and definitely not all indicated on your average South African Road Atlas. At first I tried to remember the names of the little backroads we took, but when I touched that gravel road everything except my last fall was erased from my memory bank. Dave was so eager to get onto the dirt that he did not even stop to disable his ABS or to give me a small introduction as to what I can expect. Only when his GPS started getting confused somewhere in the Ouhangs Mountains we stopped for the first time and at this point John said to us it might be a good thing if we all switch off our ABS. At this stage we were doing maximum speeds of 60km/h on the gravel even though it felt to me like we were trying to take off to fly over to Bonnievale. When we decided to turn around the prospects of getting back onto tar made me feel a bit relieved, but the turn-off we missed was not very far back and we never saw that tarred road again. 

My biggest challenge at this stage was to find out what the bike can do on gravel, how far I can take it before it slips out underneath me and which section of the road has the least amount of loose gravel. Dave and John was ahead of me and Graham at the back followed me at a safe distance just to make sure I don't do the unmentionable and stay behind somewhere over a ledge. All I was thinking was that if John's bike can do it at that speed, then so can mine. At least we were both on a F800 GS. Dave was on a F650 GS and although he said it looks more like "a bike for a girl", he definitely was not riding like one. Neither was Graham, who took his girlfriend Brigitte along "just for the fun of it", on his 1100 Adventure . As I was going along I could feel my confidence grow with each kilometer we reeled in, but sharp corners and loose rocks still left me quite nervous. Thankfully we never hit sand, but that I want to leave for a later stage after my planned Introductory Course. Every now and then we crossed a very small section of tar and then I had time to breath in and breath out again. It felt as if my bike was glued to the tar in comparison with the gravel, so my confidence on tar was improving at the same time. By this time we were covered in dust, and every now and then the breeze would make it a bit easier for us to follow at shorter distances. When John and Dave disappeared in the dust I slowed down, not only to prevent myself from suffocating, but also because I could not see the road surface anymore. Thinking back I believe it is actually better not to see the surface, because it did not feel like the GS really minded where we were going and I wasn't worried about loose rocks on the road when I didn't see them. Just before Bonnievale we hit some drizzle that cleared all the dust and by that time it was a real pleasure to be doing around 90 km/h without the Klein Karoo dust powder in my lungs.

You think about a lot of things when you ride, but my thoughts on the last few kilometers before Bonnievale were spend mostly on food rather than the dangers of gravel riding. At 11.30 we stopped at a small cafe called Into Africa and had a very pleasant breakfast. There I took in some more tips from my more experienced companions. The road from Bonnievale to Robertson was all tarred, but just after Robertson we turned off onto another dirt road towards Elandia. This road would eventually meet up again with the road we came on, and by now I was standing up and riding like an experienced circus clown on a circus pony, a skill also needed when the road gets a bit rough...or when the sand appears from nowhere. At one point we were doing 110km/h and I even managed to push it up to 120 aiming to set my new gravel land speed record at the same speed as the national speed limit on our highways. At this point a little voice from nowhere started talking to me and I took it back to around 100. But the record was official and I was feeling really chuffed with myself.

On our way back to Villiersdorp we pushed the bikes to 160km/h on the straight tarred sections. I wasn't attempting to break my tarred land speed record that I set on my GV650 cruiser as well, but it was interesting to see what the GS could do on tar. But this was just on very straight sections and something I would never do again if I don't have to. Fortunately for me at some point sanity kicks in. The round trip was about 450 kilometers and I arrived back home at 4pm. The weather on route was perfect for biking, no wind and overcast with temperatures ranging from 21 to 33 degrees Celsius. When I arrived home I could feel that I have just spend about 7 hours in the saddle in a semi-crouching position. Despite that I was very pleased with my riding for the day. Just before we parted ways at Franschoek my fellow riders all agreed that my improvement since we started this morning was "fantastic". I might not have a good sense of humor and might still be a rookie in the eyes of many but at least I don't feel like a wuss anymore. I wonder if George Clooney would add that to his list...?