Dirt Busters. Deon Meyer
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cliff face. I tapped my wife’s knee and pointed. Then something incredible happened.
Another baboon began to move. And another. How we had failed to spot them before, I do not know. Perhaps it was the colour of their pelts blending with the rusty-brown cliff. Maybe they had just been sitting dead still and staring at the monster machine riding past below. It could also be that our city eyes no longer see such things.
When they started to move, it was as though we were seeing for the first time. Four, five, six of them scrambled up the cliff … 10, 12, 13 … 20, 30, 40 … until the whole mountainside was alive with primates disdainfully jogging uphill, paying no mind to the impossibly steep and slippery cliff face.
We stared at them open-mouthed until the whole troop, perhaps a hundred or more, was on the move, ever upwards. Mothers clutched little ones under calloused elbows, little clowns tumbled and jumped, old sentries sauntered unconcerned, until the last one disappeared over the crest. Anita and I said, ‘Can you believe it …?’ This could have been our motto for the day, because there were so many surprises.
We had to go to George for our annual motorbike safari with beloved Gauteng friends (I know, I know, ‘beloved’ and ‘Gauteng’ go together just about as well as ‘military’ and ‘intelligence’, but there are exceptions to any rule). For a change we wanted to take a new, unfamiliar road.
The only unexplored alternative was a black line on the GPS map that turned off to the right on the N1 about 28 km after the Touws River – and then wound along for a long way roughly parallel to the N1 in the direction of Laingsburg. We didn’t expect much. We had travelled down this national artery so many times; how attractive could this part be? After we turned off the N1 onto the gravel, the first surprise presented itself: the road sign, short and sweet: ‘Witteberg’. But, after a few small folds in the land, pretty little hills and one or two farm gates, it seemed as though the promise of mountains was an empty one.
Until we suddenly crested a rise – and the valley spread like a fairytale ahead of us: proper mountains on the left and a gravel road winding over the hills into the distance. From there on it was sheer pleasure. The road surface was good (apart from the slightly eroded drift), the view extending to all points of the compass was impressive – and there was absolutely no tourist traffic.
At last, just before you connect with the numberless tar road between Laingsburg and the Floriskraal Dam, it looks more like the Karoo again, but for 60 km it’s a surprising mountain world, with plenty of small game – and of course, that troop of cliff-dwelling baboons that so amazed us. If you are on your way to the Seweweekspoort, this is the ideal starting point.
Once you have the Witteberg route behind you, turn right to Ladismith. At the fork about 10 km beyond the Floriskraal Dam turn-off, keep left – and prepare yourself for a part of the Western Cape that will impress not just our beloved Gautengers. The unbelievable geomorphology changes every few kilometres, the colours of cliffs and ravines, peaks and mountains change from dark red to yellow, brown and green, and no horizon looks the same.
At Seweweekspoort, of course, you expect this spectacular display. But, when a little road between Touws River and Laingsburg catches you off guard, it makes you want to pack the motorbike and explore more unknown little black lines on the map.
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Konstabel Station on the N1
From the turn-off on the N1 to Laingsburg it is exactly 70 km.
Just over 90 minutes
The old Montagu Pass
It’s only 20 km from George to the N9 over the old Montagu Pass, but metre for metre this route may just be the most beautiful in the country.
In preparation for the media launch of the R1200 GS in 2004, I had the good fortune to help the BMW production team from Munich run in the bikes. I rode this pass every day for two weeks and I never grew tired of it.
The pass was named after John Montagu, the Cape Colonial Secretary. Built by prisoners, the pass was completed in 1847. In those days, it took three days by ox wagon to cross the Cradock Pass. The Montagu Pass shortened the journey to just one day. These days it is possible to cross it in half an hour on your big dog, should you be daring, and in a hurry.
By the way, the road engineer for the Montagu Pass was Australian Henry Fancourt White. Today, his name lives on in the famous Fancourt estate near George – and the small town of Blanco. Don’t forget to stop at the old tollhouse, where travellers paid tuppence per wheel and a penny for every pulling animal more than a century ago.
From George you take the N9 to Oudtshoorn. Just 3,5 km outside the town centre a road sign will indicate where you should turn right onto a gravel road. At first the road is wide and in good condition, but, when you’re up against the mountain’s flank, it becomes very narrow, with untold blind corners. Be careful – then you can also enjoy the awe-inspiring vistas.
We also recommend that when you rejoin the N9 you turn right again. Travel a mere 170 m further and you can take the Perdepoort gravel road to Oudtshoorn. It’s an easy and quick route that offers a different kind of beauty.
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George town centre
From George to where you rejoin the N9 it’s 20,5 km (if you ride to Oudtshoorn via Perdepoort, it’s an additional 43,1 km, for a total of 63,6 km).
90 minutes for Montagu (this will give you enough time for photographs), and two and a half hours to Oudtshoorn via Perdepoort
Follow the Kammanassie (Oudtshoorn to Uniondale)
I always thought I was quite the expert on the Little Karoo. It is, after all, the most popular playground for dirt-road bikers from the Western Cape and, a few years ago, I crisscrossed it rather extensively in a quest to find the best routes for a BMW event. But, when I took two German friends on a trip to show off our amazing country recently, I needed a creative gravel-road solution to get from Oudtshoorn to Uniondale. That’s when I discovered the thin black squiggle running from Dysselsdorp through the mountains to the Kammanassie River. I had always wanted to go and look for this stream and the legendary spookmeisie of Uniondale that Anton Goosen sings about in ‘Blommetjie gedenk