Sometimes you feel that you just need a kick start to your end-of-year chilling. Doing something that just plain says ‘Relax!’. My mate Brian came up with an idea. “Why don’t we speak to Corrie at Lambretta and see if he can hook us up with a couple of 300s?” “Damn straight” I retorted, “why don’t we?”. Corrie, with his overdeveloped sense of adventure, was a pushover. There was a condition, however. “No problem, but I’m coming too!”. I phoned my mate Abrie from Angel’s Mist B&B in Kaapschehoop, my preferred chill spot. As always, he was accommodating, so it was trip on.
As is typical with these spurs-of-the-moment trips, our numbers soon swelled. My son Dave and stepson Ryan signed up, as did my old mate Loy, who was on a road trip from Cape Town with his trusty Honda NC700 DCT with over 150,000 trouble-free k’s on the clock. My buddy Vernon was keen to do an open road trip on his BMW F 900 GS, so he too jumped at the opportunity for a quick over-nighter. And so, the original two became three then five and ended up at seven!
We rode out of Pretoria earlyish on a Saturday morning. Dave was on his 310 GS and Ryan piloted my NC 750 DCT. The Lambrettas immediately impressed with their willing engines and ride quality on the rather pockmarked back road to Bronkhorstspruit which would take us onto the N4. Scooters can have a choppy ride due to their stiff chassis and shortish travel suspension. Not so the Lambrettas. They exhibit good damping and an all-round comfortable ride. In no time the cavalcade was on the highway and heading east at a decent clip. The Lambretta is almost eerie at speed in that it is uncannily smooth and gives no sign of mechanical stress whilst cruising at the legal limit. I can confirm that the green ones are the fastest! For some reason the green beast that I was riding was a Rocketship, easily outpacing Brian’s stunning red chap and Corrie’s black fellow.
We turned off at the Balmoral turnoff for breakfast at the Boer war-themed restaurant alongside a poignant Boer war concentration camp cemetery. After a hearty brekkie, we strolled through the cemetery, appalled at the number of young mothers and tiny children that succumbed to what ironically was termed a ‘Gentleman’s war’. Back on the bikes, we fuelled at the Ultra City then rode ever eastwards. Just after the Belfast turn-off we pulled into the Bergendal memorial to the last pitched battle of the Boer war. this preceded the guerilla warfare phase, where small bands of highly mobile boers led the might of the British Empire a merry dance around the country. After a good leg stretch, we cruised a little further, through the tunnel at Waterval Boven where we stopped and then rode through the old original tunnel which runs parallel to the current tunnel.
The old tunnel is only accessible by foot or, of course, by bike. This leads to a decaying wooden deck which provides a great view of the waterfall off the escarpment which feeds the river in the valley below. Only Brian and I were aware of the tunnel’s existence, so it was a revelation to the rest of the group. The ride through the tunnel is pitch dark but it is not long before you literally ‘see the light’.
Back on the bikes, we continued down the valley, loving the cool air and even getting the odd spot of rain on our visors. We refuelled in Ngodwana before riding up the mountain to Kaapschehoop. The quaint little village owes its existence to gold being discovered there around the time that Barberton and Pilgrims Rest all experienced gold rushes. Small herds of feral horses, remnants of boer war mounts which got ‘left behind’ and flourish to this day, still frequent the village. The town was enveloped in mist which morphed into light rain at times. We got settled into Angel’s Mist and then, after a quick cold one, proceeded to the office, or rather ‘Nagkantoor’, the iconic little pub in ‘bo dorp’ run by investigative journalist and author, De Wet Potgieter.
A year’s worth of concerns and cares seeped away as we ‘kuiered’ up a storm as only a bunch of motorcycle mates can. The little pub was particularly festive with a wedding party popping in to slake their thirst, or top up on Dutch Courage perhaps? By now breakfast was a distant memory so we decided to stroll down to the pub and pizza spot next door to our lodgings. The mist was now even heavier, and a general cool dampness prevailed. Festivities continued unabated over dinner, and it was a bunch of happy and content chaps that strolled next door for a wee drop of the red stuff before hitting the sack. All except Corrie that is.
Taking a little longer to don his wet gear than the rest of us, we had already made our way home before he emerged. In mist-induced confusion, perhaps slightly enhanced by a carafe or two of red, he turned left instead of right, embarking on a long and arduous tour of Kaapschehoop. Everything seems to look the same in the pea soup fog covering the village. After a tour of the furthest reaches of the town, he resorted to technology to aid his navigational skills and phoned me to drop him a pin.
In no time he pitched up at Angel’s Mist, which begs the question as to how far and wide he wandered. His tale of woe was the source of much mirth at breakfast the next morning. His fitness app on his phone told the story of a comprehensive tour of Kaapschehoop. The ride home was epic. It was a deliciously cool morning with hints of blue sky breaking through. The bikes ran sweetly in the crisp air.
Exiting the extortionately expense tollgate before Milly’s near Machadodorp, I gave the Lambretta its head to see what the green machine could do. Granted it is a significant downhill, but I was astonished to see the little 300 nudging 160 kph, pulling well into the red. It always remained rock steady, a testimony to excellent design and build integrity (please note dear reader that such lawless frivolity can be hazardous to your health and is not recommended and should not be emulated).
After a coffee and more war stories at Milly’s, and a top up at the Ultra City, we kept a loose formation, occasionally enjoying some slipstreaming fun until close to Pretoria where we waved our goodbyes and headed to our respective homes. Thinking about the weekend it once again occurred to me how much richer we are thanks to our motorcycle habit. A night away on an eclectic mix of bikes and we were refreshed in body and soul.
The Lambretta I rode is an obvious answer to urban mobility, and perhaps long-distance touring was not high on the design brief, yet the fact that it took it in its stride is testimony to a beautiful, efficient and superb scooter. Owning a bike like this makes economic sense and opens endless possibilities for getting away from the daily grind. You can embrace life in a way that seems to come naturally to the Italians. Thank you, Corrie, oh and by the way, just remember that the green ones are the fastest…
For more information on Lambretta scooters visit – www.lambrettascooters.co.za
