I don’t like riding the N4 from Gauteng to the Lowveld. It’s 350km of mostly uninspiring riding. The East Rand is a happy hunting ground for Gauteng traffic cops and shortly after crossing the provincial border, Mpumalanga cops are keen to give you a warm, expensive welcome. The road is infested with 26 and 34-wheel behemoths which usually stay in the left lane but have an irritating habit of overtaking each other on steep uphills and then battling it out for last place while a queue of cars builds up behind them. The Middelburg toll fee is R79.00 for a bike. It’s also R79.00 for a taxi carrying 18 passengers and towing an overloaded trailer. Clearly, this is unjust and therefore it behooves us bikers to sashay through without disturbing the moths breeding in our wallets. From Middelburg, it’s 100km to the Machadodorp toll plaza where the fee is an eye-watering R118.00, the country’s most expensive Class 1 toll fee. Total toll fees for a return trip are R394.00! Eina! After Machadodorp things get better. There’s a choice between riding Schoemanskloof or the Elands River Valley road past the gargantuan Sappi mill at Ngodwana. Both are excellent riding roads characterised by fast-flowing sweepers. But they hardly compensate for the tedium of the N4 and the outrageous toll fees.
On the infrequent occasions when I ride to Joburg I make a point of riding alternative routes. The destination is important but the journey is where adventure awaits. There’s real Africa out there and it’s easy to discover away from the N routes. In the immortal words of Lou Reed:
“Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side”
I said, “Hey Joe, take a walk on the wild side”
On Tuesday morning I collected a Suzuki GSX-S1000GX from Freedom Motorcycles in Nelspruit. The GX is a razor-sharp sport touring bike, a crossover motorcycle that combines the precision and performance of the legendary GSX-R1000 with the upright seating position and long-distance comfort of a touring machine. It weighs 232kg full of fuel. The GX is characterised by sharp lines, aggressive styling and rakish good looks. The vertically stacked pair of LED headlights is flanked by upswept LED position lights, the menacing eyes in the GX’s predatory lupine face. The GX is a wolf in wolf’s clothing.
I spent time with Dewald, the Sales Manager, so he could explain the myriad electronic settings of the Suzuki Intelligent Ride System (SIRS). For long-distance, high-speed riding, I chose medium settings for Power Mode, Traction Control, and Suspension Damping. Over more than 1000km on roads that varied from excellent blacktops to patched, potholed deathtraps, the settings suited me perfectly.
With my minimalist travelling kit strapped to the GX, I rode south on the R40. Nelspruit to Barberton is 40km of high speed, excellent condition tarmac which features the extremely tricksy Hilltop Pass. Hilltop has eight vicious corners that will give you big eyes if you run in too hot. But if you get them right, you’ll grind the hero blobs and erase every vestige of chicken strips on your rear tyre. It’s a brilliant pass. From the foot of the pass, the road runs through the valley of the Noordkaap River where the never-ending sweepers tempt you to hang off further and further and give your tyres a good scrubbing.
At the junction with the R38, I rode east into the mountains. The first of two passes is Botha’s Nek which winds up rugged mountainsides cloaked in pine and eucalyptus plantations. The corners are fast and flowing and overtaking slow-moving vehicles is easy. From the summit the views over the Lowveld are spectacular. The second pass is Nelshoogte which drops steeply to undulating grasslands. Over the three passes, I discovered that the GX is a finely crafted weapon for dealing with challenging roads. Handling is precise and predictable, brakes are potent and progressive, and the bi-directional quick shifter is uncannily smooth and seamless. The GX was fitted with new Michelin Road 6 tyres which are developing a reputation as the best all-round tyre on the market. With all these factors in my favour and on roads that I know well I was riding like a maniac with his hair on fire, loving the speed and the confidence instilled by the Suzuki.
After the recent good rains, the Vygeboog Dam overflowed into the Komati River, which rushed like a torrent under the road bridge. On the flatlands approaching Badplaas, I bombed along at 180km/h, enjoying the soulful aural accompaniment of the 999cc mill spinning easily at 8000rpm. Despite the slim dimensions of the windscreen, the wind protection was remarkably good, and I was becoming increasingly impressed with the bike’s blitzing long-distance capabilities. This was going to be an exceptional ride.
I could have continued straight on to Carolina but I like the deserted R541 that runs southeast to Lochiel across vast savannahs. On one of the long straights, I tucked in and wound the GX to 230km/h with the engine howling sweetly at 10000 rpm. I’m sure I would have seen 260 if I tried but sometimes enough is enough. At the intersection with the N17, I stopped for a photo of the sign that declares this to be the Grasslands and Wetlands route. The N17 to Chrissiesmeer and thence to Ermelo is 100km of bucolic verdant meadows scattered with sparkling pans like sapphires strewn on a billiard table. It’s one of the most beautiful roads in the land but on this day I had no eyes for the scenery. I was focused on the ominous darkening sky on the eastern horizon. In the metropolis of Warburton, I stopped and donned a jacket that was gifted to me on a Harley launch many years ago. I had never worn the jacket and always assumed it was a rain jacket. Short before long, I discovered how wrong I was.
20 kilometres from Chrissiesmeer I rode into a maelstrom. On the grasslands, there was no place to hide and I had no choice but to ride on. It was the worst storm I’ve ever ridden in. Swirling torrents of rain and thrashing winds reduced visibility to practically nil. The darkness under the cloud was riven by incandescent lightning bolts and I found myself wondering what it would be like to be struck by lightning. Cars and trucks loomed like spectres out of the gloom and as I passed I imagined them thinking “Why is that fool riding in this weather?” The only upside was the Michelin Road 6 tyres which didn’t twitch once, even when I was navigating rivers running across the road. After twenty minutes of insanity, I stopped at the petrol pumps in Chrissiesmeer chilled to the marrow and dripping. It was still raining heavily so I sat in the garage shop and ate a Russian and Chips washed down with a cleansing lager.
Eventually, the rain slackened. I refuelled the bike and rode onwards to Ermelo. Now I was properly cold as the water evaporated from my sodden apparel. I resigned myself to a long cold afternoon in the saddle. I weaved my way through the chaotic Ermelo traffic and joined the N17 to Bethal. The road from Ermelo to Bethal has existed forever. Now it just happens to be a toll road with no viable alternative route. Therefore I considered toll fees to be optional and I opted to dawdle through with a smile on my face and a song on my lips. If I had stopped to pay I would have occupied an entire lane for at least five minutes. Stop. Switch off the bike. Remove wet gloves. Find a wet wallet. Remove card. Hand card to fee collector. Receive card. Drop card from trembling hand. Get off the bike. Replace card in wallet. Place the wallet back in the wet pocket. Get back on the bike. Struggle to put wet gloves back on while swearing loudly. Wipe mist from the visor. Start bike. Ride away. Just give bikers a dedicated metre-wide bike lane and be done with it. But Nooooooo! Rools is Rools! Bureaucratic idiots.
Just after Bethal, I rode out from under the clouds into bright, warm Highveld sunshine. I started to feel human again as my clothes began to dry. A few clicks past Trichardt I left the N17 and followed the R29 through Kinross, Leandra and Devon. It’s been many years since I rode through those towns. One word to describe them: Shattered. This is what I saw in the main streets: cattle and goats roaming free, piles of rotting garbage, litter everywhere, informal dwellings, shebeens, gutted buildings, wrecked vehicles, tatty spaza shops, broken fences, unemployable people sleeping in doorways. The degradation of once thriving platteland dorps is a microcosm of the destruction taking place on a massive scale across this country.
I continued the ride in a sombre mood and rejoined the N17 on the outskirts of Springs. At 17:00 I parked the GX outside Tonino’s Restaurant in Orange Grove. Tonino’s is a biker-friendly joint specialising in Portuguese cuisine. There were eight of us for dinner. I ordered 15 queen prawns for R225; excellent value for money. We spent a splendid evening swapping stories and talking twak as bikers do. After dinner Jamie and I rode in the rain to his casa in Victory Park. Despite tough conditions, it was an excellent day on the road. 480km of not the N4.
On Wednesday morning I inspected the bike before setting off. The rains of the previous day had washed every hint of lubricant from the chain. I like to think I’m a mechanically sensitive rider and therefore it makes sense to maintain the only exposed mechanical part of the bike. Jamie didn’t have any lube; he rides a shaft-drive GS and a belt-drive Harley. But I had a plan B. My route out of town was the N3 past the Suzuki HQ in Marlboro. I pulled in, Shane lubed the chain and I was back on the road at 11:00. I rode the R21 past the airport and then took the R25 to Bapsfontein and Bronkhorstspruit aka Dronkwordspruit. Riding conditions were ideal, overcast and cool. I set the cruise control at 150km/h and watched the emerald-green countryside fly by. In Bronkhorstspruit I stopped for photos at the magnificent Nan Hua Temple. The R25 crosses over the N4 and on the far side of the bridge, two female traffic cops were sitting on their BMW R1250RTs. Of course, I stopped to chat with them. They were polite enough but declined to talk about their duties so I continued on my merry way.
The road from Bronkhorstspruit to Groblersdal is a special ride. It traverses lush, mountainous bushveld terrain, a delight to the eye. There’s not much traffic but there are a few large settlements along the road with names you might never have heard of: Sokhulumi, Chief Magodongo, Verena and Dennilton. There are good reasons to take it easy when riding through these places. Firstly, there are myriad cattle, sheep, donkeys and goats on the road and the verges, and, secondly, there are bastard unpainted, slab-sided speed humps that launch you out of the saddle if you hit one at speed. North of Verena I stopped for a photo of the weather-beaten, almost illegible signboard at the entrance to Zithabiseni Resort. In 1999 Zithabiseni was the venue for the one and only, the first and last, the legendary Hustler Rally. In the months leading up to the rally, Hustler Magazine promised an extravaganza the likes of which South Africa had never experienced. And they did not lie. I don’t know where Hustler found so many gorgeous women but there they were in all their naked glory, basking in the sunshine, cavorting in the pool and parading their assets on stage. It was a fiesta of unbridled, gratuitous female nudity. I nearly went blind. But that was then and now I needed to gijima because I still had distance to cover.
I stopped in Dennilton for a photo of an old, abandoned Komatsu grader standing forlornly on perished tyres, slowly decaying in its final resting place. That sad machine suggested these lines from Shakespeare:
Fear no more the heat ‘o the sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages;
Thou they worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta’en they wages…
After Dennilton the road runs through the astonishingly fertile valley of the Olifants River, an Eden of citrus orchards, vineyards, maize, and a cornucopia of vegetable crops. The roadsides approaching Groblersdal are a colourful array of stalls selling crops from the valley; oranges, pumpkins, watermelons, mangoes, potatoes, onions and butternuts. It’s a happy scene and the stalls appeared to be doing good business as motorists stopped to stock up on fruit and veggies. It was a quick 60km blitz from Groblersdal to Stofberg through beautiful game-fenced bushveld panoramas and past Rooikraal Dam. I was expecting the R555 from Stofberg to Roossenekal to be a potholed disaster area but it wasn’t too bad. I turned off the R555 and rode the R577 across the plains towards the bulwarks of the Steenkampsberge looming ever larger on the eastern horizon. It was an exhilarating ride up and over De Berg Pass down into the flatlands. If you’ve never ridden De Berg, add it to your bucket list. It’s a magnificent spanking road on a wild, rugged mountain. Just before Jaap se Hoogte chrome ore trucks from Burgersfort join the R577 and for the next 10 kilometres the road is smashed. It’s a very bad section but to put things in context this was the only dodgy tarmac in two days and more than 1000km.
In Lydenburg, I had a decision to make. Long Tom Pass or Robber’s Pass? Robber’s was the longer option and it was only 15:30 so time was on my side. I rode north towards Ohrigstad on the R36. The last time I travelled the R36 was in July 2024. Then it was a potholed deathtrap but it has since been repaired and is in reasonable condition. 30 kilometres from Lydenburg I hooked right onto the R533 and steeked across the grassy plains to the foot of the pass. I have a healthy respect for Robber’s Pass. It never sleeps; it waits! I rode fast on the ascent to Crystal Springs and then took it easy on the steep hairpin descents to the valley of the Sabie River and Pilgrim’s Rest. The road is almost always littered with loose gravel and this day was no different. I love the tight bumpy road from Pilgrim’s up and over the mountain. It’s a good workout for rider and machine. No surprise, the GX bounded up the mountain like a surefooted goat. The R532 to Sabie is an iconic Mpumalanga road characterised by long, balls-to-the-wall sections as well as the butt-clenching corners near Forest Falls and Mac Mac Falls. If you know the road it’s high speed heaven. If you’re not familiar with the road err on the side of caution. And then, like a horse scenting the stable, I left Sabie and rode full tilt on the R537 to White River. That road is 44km of come-to-glory sweepers interspersed with flatstick straights, one of the best +200km/h biking roads in the country guaranteed to have you grinning in your helmet like a demented ape. As the sun set I pulled into my casa in Nelspruit with a very satisfying 560km day on the road behind me.
Allow me to restate the point of this article. If you’re riding from Gauteng to the Lowveld there are magical roads and intriguing places to the north and south of the N4. Challenging roads, amazing vistas, unexpected experiences, friendly people, and weird platteland dorps are yours to discover. Why drone along the N4 when an African adventure awaits you?
