The Northern and Eastern Transvaal by gravel

[Kradmelder]

So a Friday after work starts with drinks with bike mates. Talk comes around to what is everyone doing, and I say fark it, I am going riding.
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I am not going to spend a weekend with bikes in the garage. I am going to do a 2 day trip to the eastern Transvaal via Legalametse, the Downs and Bourkes Luck. I figure about 1300-1400 km. This illicits a
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Just because you have a broken leg and can only ride tar now doesn’t stop me. So fok julle
No way am I going by National tar road, so departure from Pretoria at sunrise has me heading to Moloto, Rust de Winter, then with morning cloud and mist clearing, on gravel across what was the black homeland of KwaNdebele, towards Settlers, a white farming area.
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Approaching Settlers and the typical SA winter of a grey morning giving way to bright sun
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No Petrol available in Settlers on a weekend, so just a quick beer at the hotel. But then the only station on the tar road at Tuinplaas has no fuel. With the remaining fuel I have the option of detouring to Nylstroom, which puts me on the hated National tar road, where no adventure biker would waste his time, or cutting across a closed road and isolated gravel roads to Roedtan. It is a no brainer. I point Maedchen’s nose NE to Roedtan by the shortest GPS route and nearest fuel as a waypoint.

The people farming here have with a taste for the classic. Stunning in the middle of nowhere on what is little more than a track. Looks like a good place to stop and have a snack of biltong and cucumbers as well while I explore the structure.
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I get to Roedtan and Maedchen she is thirsty, having done well over 250 km from Pretoria and at least half on gravel and sand. She is on the reserve light. Not too bad. 17 l in to a 19.5 l tank.
From here it is across the black homeland of Lebowa to Lebowagomo then Zeekoeigat (hippo’s hole). After the chaos, very slow moving unroadworthy traffic, and dodging cows and goats on the road typical of a black homeland, it is back to the gravel. The road takes me past black villages, running along a river. There is no traffic at all as this road leads nowhere but up into the mountains. Every village has screaming black children waving greetings.
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Then the road becomes nothing but loose big rocks, getting bigger and bigger and steeper as I climb what is the northern margin of the Drakensberg. It is cut into the side of a cliff and made by laying rocks. No cages use it. Just occasional 4x4s every few days. Ground clearance required is just too high.
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The pictures don’t do it justice. The bike is jumping over big rocks, not able to keep a straight line, and it is exhausting. I keep telling myself how much longer do these rocks go on, but it is too steep and loose to even think of going back down. It is 100 km to Ofcalaco. I tell myself these rocks can’t go much longer, just the next slope. But it seems like an eternity and it is all the way to the top. I need frequent stops to just lie on my back and recover. That 100 km takes me over 5 hours, most for that 15 km rocky stretch, and it is dark by the time I reach the top of mountains over the Downs, and must do the descent in the dark. So many nice old voortrekker sites up there but it is too late and too dark to stop. And I have no tent. Far too cold to spend a night up there. Thankfully the descent is normal gravel and not loose stones. But I am totally exhausted and gatvol by Ofcalaco.
Ofcalaco is named for the Officers Colonial Land Company, which purchased land to resettle British and Indian army veterans after the end of WW1. Other such farms exist north of the Soutpansberg. Jan Smuts once said only wildlife and kaffirs can survive there, and his stance against settlement of these empty regions was one of the reasons he was defeated by the Afrikaner nationalists. The british officers gave their farms WW1 names, like Somme, Joffre etc. The descendants of these officers still farm at Ofcalaco. In SA, MOTH clubs (memorable order of tin hats, started by WW1 veterans), opened their doors to WW2 veterans and later bush war veterans (not any WW1 vets still alive I guess) to keep the clubs going, so military veterans are always welcome to stop in, have a few drinks with brothers, and sleep on a couch if required. I have slept in a MOTH shellhole a few times when arriving late and tired somewhere. It is always an experience to have a drink with such men, even though they fought on the wrong side. Always honourable decent men, unlike what you meet today.
I made the bad adventure biker mistake of booking accommodation in Bourkes Luck upfront. Only because a friend started a guest house there. An adv biker should never book and his itinerary varies with road conditions. But now it is 1900, dark, and I still have 200 km to go to Bourkes Luck and I will miss seeing the stunning scenery of the eastern Transvaal. Abel Rasmus pass and the Blyde river canyon pass by in the dark. Sorry, no pics.
I arrive at my guest house in the middle of a black location in the dark after 2100. I can hear the loud jungle noise music, drunkenness, and screaming of an African village on a Saturday night. My friend says just follow the white painted stones to the guest house. Sure, with no proper roads and tracks going off every which way in pitch black and my eyes barely able to focus anymore. He has an arrangement with the chief, who gets kickbacks to ensure guests are safe. There is a river crossing to get there and I don’t even want to imagine what floaties are coming down, and I am too tired to care and walk it first, so just plunge across. I am so exhausted I can barely get off the bike after 14 hours, too tired to really eat. 2 beers flatten me and I tell myself what a kak day.
The next morning I go have a look at God’s Window, but the whole escarpment, although stunning scenery it is a let down as it is full of tourists and the usual rackets that come with them…darkies selling carvings, mats, beads etc. Two of them are americans, and I am sure one car load of fatties is british. They stare at my bike and dirty clothing. Used to be whitey gave shiny beads to the darkies. Now it is being sold back to western tourists. I spend some time chatting to the hawkers and realise I have little in common with the lighter skinned visitors and discuss Zuma’s R2 billion private plane with the locals. This coming aftertaking a 4th wife. All at taxpayer expense. They say they will never vote ANC again, but they will, intimidated into it. My cell camera can’t take nice pics over such a panorama.

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It is then down to the lowveld, but avoiding the tourist trap areas of Kruger Park by sticking to gravel.
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Then it is to Graskop and Pilgrims Rest, an old gold mining town kept as a historic village, very picturesque, but it is full of herds of road bikers and cruisers on their breakfast runs which passes for a biker lifestyle. Must they all always go to the same places in large herds? Like herds of cattle following the lead heifer. Safety with a herd I guess and no imagination to leave the beaten path. Seeing 4 or 5 of them is OK, but several groups of about 30??? It is too much and I give up on the idea of stopping for a meal in places flood with the black leather and colours crowd. I settle for biltong on the side of the road in some quiet place. Theirs is a type of riding I will never understand. If I ever ride in a big group on well travelled roads to a crowded destination for a short breakfast run before I am 75 years old, will someone please shoot me. I won’t deserve to be a biker anymore.
This is getting petrol in Pilgrims rest.
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It is then the climb up the escarpment via an old gravel road called Casper’s Nek. Thankfully no herds of road bikers will do this road. The loose rock and vibrations on bikes with little suspicion keeps them away. Beautiful old gravel twisty road, but I forgot my cell charger so didn’t want to take many pics. The road passes an old voortrekker fort, where the voortrekkers left their women and children with some men while they descended to the lowveld. Many of the children died of malaria and the cemetery is full of the graves of children. The things the voortrekkers had to endure to escape being ruled by the Queen of England….Unfortunately once the Jews Barnato and Oppenheimer got wind of gold and diamonds in the Boer republics and wanted a monopoly on that trade, her Majesty’s red coats were sure to follow and take the Boer republics. There are never enough gold and diamonds to quench their lust.
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From Lydenburg it is home, via the highest road in the Transvaal. Can’t recall the altitude but I’m sure it is over 2200 mamsl, and damned cold. I have ridden these roads so often I took no pics. The only event was filling up in Groblersdal. I came across yet another vast herd of weekend warrior road bikers with no luggage and shiny bikes. I overtook them and turned off, heading on the direct route SW to Pretoria. Most continued west towards safety and the national road, but 2 on BMWs decided to turn with me, and the 3 of us blasted at 160 kmh over the potholed tar roads of the Rust de Winter black homeland, racing the remaining daylight. We took turns leading and marking potholes. Once through the black area and at Bronkhorstspruit, I waved my companions of 150 km good bye, opened up to 180 kmh, left them behind, and dusty, dirty, loaded Maedchen made a bee line home on the old road while they headed to the National road. No curing those habits of riding national roads. Never once talked to them. Well that is biking. Oh well, at least they did a black homeland, even if on tar. I am sure they enjoyed it and never would have entered their mind if I didn’t turn off. But for me it was the tail end of a long trip, not a brekkie run or 300 km day ride, and I just wanted to get home. But fark if I will take a national road and brave the monotony and speed traps. Not even a pothole to keep me awake on such raods. Maedchen wants to eat dirt, for brekkie lunch and dinner.
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It was so good to get out of these boots after 2 days in them. Road riders have such comfortable kit compared to us. But after a few falls with a bike landing on my foot and being trapped under, I will live with the discomfort…. KTMs fall well. Although the riders don’t always land well He he.
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This was a fantastic ride, except going over the downs. I took on too much in too little time. That stretch of 100 km should have been 1 day. That bit ruined the day for me. It is not a place to tackle alone on a big bike. A 450 would have been much better. I would go up from the east side again, but don’t think I will go up the west again without an MX bike. It was just too much battling to the point of not being enjoyable, but wanting it to end.
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2011 KTM 990 Dakar
2009 BMW 1200 GS

[Kradmelder]

I didnt mention the guest house I stayed at was vegetarian. Supper was veggie pasta, and brekkie was avo and toast and cereals. Damn was I glad I had packed biltong. The lack of meat would have given me DTs. The withdrawal symptoms would have made me check out every cow. As bikers know, where you look is where you go, so it would have been a bike on cow collision
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2011 KTM 990 Dakar
2009 BMW 1200 GS

[Kradmelder]

Every trip I remind myself why SA is such a great place. With the problems, the crime, corrupt lawless black government, a 90% black population, and a national average IQ 72 amongst darkies and and over 50% scholol failure rate, people cant see why live here.

But here is why I stay...

1) My family is here. I'm not leaving them behind... and all my friends are here.

2) I believe the rest of the world will become as bad as South Africa in terms of crime and black on White murders in just a few years, in fact it's already started. look the USA FBI stats.

3) We have proportionately less libtards here.
I think most left, or changed, I'm not sure, even those who are libtards have some level of racial awareness. In fact, I cannot remember when last I have heard some such nonsense as "we all bleed red" come out of somebody's mouth here.

If I open my mouth around other Whites, I get agreement 80% of f the time, an thus far the worst I got was silence and a funny look. Almost no one complains, defriends or 'disowns' anyone because they are "racist". Seriously WTF? Never heard of that in this country, never! Far more often you be disowned if they brought home a date of a different race.

4) We are ruled by blacks, White countries are ruled by Zionists.
I have no doubt the blacks hate us as much as the Zionists do, and they do try to make life difficult here for Whites, but they are too stupid to "nail" us effectively like the Zionists do in White countries, though to be fair, they do have some success, but they leave a lot of "loopholes".

5) It's easier to segregate in communities here than to move overseas. Small white communities tend to unite and stand together, and help each other.

6) It's a really beautiful country! Obviously I'm not talking about the infrastructure, and I'm most certainly not talking about 90% of the inhabitants. I mean from a geographical perspective, the nature the climate and so on. Far away from the population, in the bush early in the morning, the smell of the bush, the shrubs and the other flora clings to the mist, there is no other smell like that, it is my favourite, apart from maybe the smell of burning "doringhout" (thorn wood) burning on a hot dry evening at the end of a hot day in the summer.


7) It is my country. It is my home. I don't know how to live in another country. In fact, if I lived in Europe, the climate and people are so cold I don't even know if I'd be able to get out bed in the morning. I don't know if I'd fit in and wouldnt want to, and in the more politically correct countries I'd probably be in jail in a week for saying the wrong thing, speeding on my bike, or not following the half a billion rules.

8) I'm can live "off the grid" here...Avoiding all the rules and regulations that dominate day to day life in western countries.
South Africa is one of those countries where it takes great effort to register yourself anywhere, government incompetence and all, but in western nations people have to go to great lengths, stand in long queues and fill out mountains of forms, often repeatedly, just to make sure that every department that exists knows who they are, where they live, what car they drive, how many children they have, and how much they have in the bank etc.

9) Standard of living is better here. I can live in a big house, big property, servants, amongst my own, and not have some multiculti screaming next door, his mosque blaring, or him peering over my wall.

10) I feel I'm quite free here, by comparison to many White Zionist run countries anyway... I havew freedom of belief and freedom of association, not like in europe where you can be sent to prison for questioning some aspects of history, or thinking a certain way. No thought police here.


Secure, safe? Maybe not!

Free? Like I said, by comparison, and I'm not giving that up for security, I'll rather sleep with a weapon next to my bed, here, in South Africa than be a slave in a western nation, where even the cc of the bike you ride is regulated.
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2011 KTM 990 Dakar
2009 BMW 1200 GS

[speedy]

hey ive been looking to make a trip to SA for a while i have a lot of south african friends and they and every south african ive met has told me i have to go there and you have given me the idea to go on a biking trip. from your point of view safety wise wht size group should i go in and where should i avoid. ill be starting around louis trichardt as my friend has family there and then was thinking of heading towards jo-burg

[Kradmelder]

[Kradmelder]

And keep your group small. Like 2 or 4. There is a lot to see, and you want flexibility to change a shedule and not book accomodation. with 4 you can still split up. Any bigger and everything is meetings and hard to find places to stay. Solo for me is best. 2 is OK. After that you start losing flexibility.

Distances here are big. Someone gets tired, wants to stopp, seeing something else and detours are not an option.

If you have the balls, you can do it solo. Or bring a mate. More than that, it is hard for people to put you up.
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2011 KTM 990 Dakar
2009 BMW 1200 GS

[flumpy7]

[lilredmachine]

Meh, different land, different culture, different life.

I should imagine the majority of Western Europe looks at us and laughs, being the eventual home of every 'refugee' and seeker that wanders through their country and is given the hurry up if they try to settle.

The multiculturalism we have here would seem odd to many recently, or still segregated countries, even now. You can sense this in Kradmelder's post, there is him, and everyone else. Granted, perhaps the thinking is extreme, but you are correct he would not fit in over here. Whether that is his problem, or ours, isn't that obvious though.

Interesting, and beautiful post though.
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Bikes: too many, too much for one man to maintain anyway.

[Kradmelder]