I don’t know if any of you, like me, felt just a little short-changed after the December break. It came at the end of, to quote the dear departed Queen, an ‘Annus Horribilis’. A crappy year where the only positive thing we saw was the end of Covid and its madness. Travelling at this time of year is a toss-up at best. The weather is almost guaranteed to be lousy. Too hot, too wet and too humid.
As if that wasn’t enough to contend with, the KZN sea and beaches, in the main, were infested with turds. The fairest Cape is an option, but the current fuel prices punish you and then you still have to contend with the rest of SA who also thought the Cape was a good call for their holiday. I am probably just grumpy because I just didn’t get adequate saddle time over the break. I needed to correct that desperately.
We recently had a spell of magnificent weather. Those big blue sky days with hot, but not humid, weather. This came after weeks of unpredictable, stormy, humid and in many cases gloomy days. On these bright sunny days, with no chance of rain, the Gypsy in my soul becomes impossible to resist. With no fixed plan, other than to ride and then ride some more, I packed my tent (to keep my options as wide open as possible) and essential kit for an overnighter on my Scrambler Ducati Icon. A quick shout out here to Givi for their Canyon soft luggage as well as Go Gravel for their utterly brilliant waterproof stuff bag. The two systems work brilliantly together, especially if your plan is to traverse some dirt roads.
I rode out of Pretoria at around 7:00 AM on a bright and sunny day with not a cloud in the sky. I knew it would get hot later on, but we would deal with that when it happened. In true desert sled tradition I wore riding jeans, a T-Shirt and my 40-year-old IXS leather jacket which is lined but not padded. What an amazing piece of kit that has been. It is the top half of a two-piece set of leathers which have served me flawlessly over literally millions of kilometres.
My feet were shod with Icon ankle boots which fit the Scrambler mould perfectly with their old-school rugged construction. Feeling as minimalist as my bike, I breathed in the still-cool morning air and felt the everyday stress and strain of modern living start to ebb away. This was going to be a good day!
Riding out through the plots towards the road east that runs past Bronkhorstspruit dam, I took in the magnificent green and verdant countryside and felt compelled to capture the image of the Scrambler parked in a huge recently mowed field. That done, I cruised east. I say “cruise” because that is literally how I was riding. On a naked bike, you do not have to blast down the road to feel that you are in motion. Anything over 115 km/h is satisfying if you are riding for the sheer joy of being one with your motorcycle on a beautiful day. The Icon is such a joy to ride in this fashion. The easygoing nature of the 800cc 90-degree L-Twin is engaging as it emits a throaty burble from the liberated pipe. Turning a relaxed 4,500 rpm I scooted blissfully along.
It was one of those rides where time almost stood still while the k’s sped by. Before I knew it I was rolling into Milly’s for a Steers burger brekkie and fuel top-up. There were 5 busloads of ANC members in all their party regalia en route to somewhere. Watching these guys’ antics as I scoffed my burger, I wondered how, with the ANC’s shocking track record after almost 30 years at the helm, any thinking man or woman could possibly vote for them with any hope of a better future.
I soon dismissed such wonderings given that I was so enjoying wandering of a different kind. Fuelled and fed, I hung a right through Machadodorp and exited on the road to Barberton. About 10 odd k’s down this road a tar road turns off to the left. I followed this road until I saw a dirt track running off of it to the left with a “Tranquilitas Guest Farm” sign. Hooking a left, I got to experience the Icon on the dirt.
I had ridden this road in the past when it was in vastly better nick. It seems that traffic volumes are very low, so with high rain volumes, it has deteriorated into a bit of a goat track. Great for Scrambling though. With some deep erosion ruts, you need to pay attention as the road meanders through grassland and a bit of acacia forest. I stopped for a couple of photos and just revelled in the solitude and splendour of the countryside. I was also pleased to see that my luggage was staying put and needed no repositioning or fastening (always a good idea to check your luggage after your first few k’s of gnarly dirt).
I was reminded of a trip many years ago with a buddy to Botswana, where he was slack with checking his luggage and ended up trailing a plume of smoke as his exhaust came into contact with his luggage and set fire to his blow-up mattress. It was very funny watching him abandon ship and then try to separate his burning luggage from his bike. All ended well apart from the fact that his sleeping comfort was history. The smoke smell on his clothing was also rather offensive!
I really enjoyed riding the Scrambler on the gnarly track and all too soon I was ambling into Waterval Boven at the end of the dirt. Back on tar, I proceeded east and through the tunnel then down the magnificent Eland’s River valley. The tar is super smooth and snakes through long sweeps that are brilliant to ride. Once again the inherent handling qualities that seem to be built into every bike that exits the Bologna factory came to the fore. I smelt Ngodwana sawmills before I saw them. This is the thing with bike travel. You are so part of the countryside that you are traversing. By now it was getting properly hot, but the joy of a naked bike is that you get the full benefit of the breeze that you are creating. Dropping the zip slightly and loosening the cuffs on my jacket had the desired cooling effect.
Idling into Ngodwana I turned right towards Kaapschehoop. The road up the hill is somewhat bumpy in contrast to the awesomely smooth Elands Valley road but it becomes really pleasant as the temperature drops faster than a bride’s nighty. You go from Lowveld heat to Kaapschehoop at an 8-degree cooler environment.
My dirt rambling had generated a proper thirst so I proceeded directly to ‘the office’. The epic little pub called “Nagkantoor” that is, which is located in the “bo-dorp”. An ice-cold beverage went down like a homesick mole. My buddy Brian and his chum Martin arrived after breakfast in Sabie and joined me at the office. They confirmed that the Lowveld was indeed cooking and that Kaapschehoop was the place to be.
Nagkantoor is run by De Wet Potgieter, a freelance journalist and author, who has published a number of books on controversial subjects encompassing SA’s recent past. An extremely likeable fellow and a great host he is too. The photos that adorn the walls of the pub tell many a story and are a pictorial history of some memorable SA events. Whiling away time in this environment on a sunny day after an epic ride is indeed pleasant, to say the least. A trio of the wild horses that are one of these villages’ claims to fame ambled past in search of anyone willing to give them a treat. A caramel pancake and another cold one (a man can’t stand on one leg you know) made for a great time shooting the breeze with mates.
Brian and Martin retired for a quick 40 winks after which I joined them for a coffee. Although geared to sleep over somewhere, I came to the realization that what I was really craving was more of a riding fix. I duly bade them farewell, mounted the Scrambler and at 3:30 in the afternoon, I headed for home.
On the ride down the sun had risen to meet me and now was hauling off, following its inexorable path to the west. I sped up the valley and then spilt onto the plateau, chasing the sun. I have noticed that riding east you invariably have a headwind, which, even if it nor really huffing, becomes evident in your fuel consumption. Now I had the converse. I could rumble along at 125 with absolutely no strain on the body and the Icon sipping 95 octane at 24 k’s to a litre.
At 6:30 PM on the dot, I rolled up to my gate. What a privilege it is to own a bike with which you can ride far and wide across our beautiful land. A day in the saddle completely reset my mood meter. It is days like this that stick in the memory and completes the incredible tapestry of life. I did nothing extraordinary. I did not race across the dirt or try and tear up the twisty tarmac. I simply got out there in perfect weather and rode my bike with a spring in my step and perfect peace in my soul. I would duplicate that on any day in the right set of circumstances. So, just get out there and ride your bikes with no agenda other than for the sheer joy of it all, letting your worries and woes fade, for that day at least, into obscurity.
Ducati Scrambler Icon
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