Dirt Busters. Deon Meyer
Читать онлайн книгу.
plan is to cover the minimum of tar on the way to my destination. I take the gravel roads through the Swartland to Wellington. Then the ever-impressive Bainskloof Pass and the pretty Mitchell’s Pass to Ceres for refuelling and a quick can of cold drink (the relevance of which will soon be made clear).
You need to focus to reach Sutherland from here by dirt road: first the R46 for (coincidentally) 46 km. Keep left and take the R355. Barely 6 km further down the gravel road (which winds prettily down the Doring River Valley) turn right onto an unnumbered road that forks after another 7 km. Keep left here, because you are heading for the Pienaarsrivier Mountains (that really is the name of the mountains, I promise you).
If you maintain your resolve and direction, it’s just over 100 km before you hit the R354 between Matjiesfontein and Sutherland – and it was at exactly that point that the bee flew up my left sleeve and took exception to my deodorant. And, when a bee is unhappy, it stings.
What do you do when you are in the process of turning left onto the tar road and you feel a hot coal burning on your forearm, underneath a motorcycle suit that takes at least five minutes to unbuckle, unzip, pull off and shove down? If you’re an idiot (like me), you rub hard and urgently on the source of the burning pain – and force every last drop of venom out of the bee’s considerable store through the stinger into your bloodstream.
Then it really burns. Mistake number one.
Mistake number two lay 38,7 km further. I reckoned I would appease the oven-hot heat of bee-sting fever and my sudden thirst at Sutherland. On a Sunday afternoon at 12 noon. When there isn’t a single place of business open. (At least I got fuel after knocking on the door of the tannie from the garage.)
So I took my personal heat wave to Merweville: 10 km south on the R354 you turn left, ride past the airport at Sutherland and, 32 km later, turn left again, onto what looks like a farm road. Then you see the windmill and concrete reservoir. I knew I had only two choices – dive in clothes, boots, helmet and all, or cool off in my birthday suit.
Only some time after I had plunged stark naked under the clear, clean, wonderful water, did it occur to me that the farmer might mind. I immediately began to think of extenuating circumstances, of which the most convincing one was that my actions were first aid. For a bee sting.
The rest of this beautiful road to Merweville was sheer pleasure. Canyons and mountains, a zigzagging pass with an incomparable view over the Great Karoo.
For the record: the shop at Merweville was also closed. I had to slake my thirst at Beaufort West. By that time I had regained my dignity, at least.
1
Sutherland
From Sutherland to Merweville it is 107 km (Merweville is 441 km from Cape Town).
If bees don’t bother you and you’re travelling on a Sunday in December (no cafés and shops to waste your time in) you can budget two hours.
The two most beautiful passes in the upper Karoo
You need to make a detour of only 157 km from Beaufort West to discover two of the Bo Karoo’s best-kept secrets – the Molteno and De Jager’s passes.
The turn-off to Loxton is barely 1 km outside Beaufort West on the N1 north. Turn left and shortly afterwards the beauty will start to unfold. The tar turns into a gravel road, which winds up the cliffs. Once you’ve reached the top of the mountain, look out for the lovely waterfall on the left. It is opposite a poplar grove on the right and it’s something you do not expect in the Karoo, even in the rainy season.
After 61,1 km turn right to Leeukloof (the famous farm where so many dinosaur fossils can be seen). Turn right again after 94,7 km, to descend the De Jager’s Pass back to the Beaufort West plains.
Be cautious: these roads are mostly in good condition, but blind corners are frequently quite sharp – especially beyond De Jager’s Pass where kudu and other game jumping across the road are a common occurrence.
1
Beaufort West town centre
175 km
Three hours
Cederberg magic
I once had a strange experience in the Cederberg mountains on the road to Matjiesrivier via Eselbank. After a hard week on the sand roads of the West Coast and in the baking hot mountains of southern Namibia, Jan du Toit and I were on our way home on a pair of identical R1150 GS motorbikes. It was the last leg of the last day of the expedition. That may be why an odd spirit possessed us beyond Wupperthal – a sense of euphoria, madness, exuberance.
We had not discussed or planned it. Without warning, words or any other communication, we simultaneously pulled out the stops, heading up the mountain’s steep jeep track. And took off. Side by side, in a mad rush over the stones, gravel, sand, drifts. Rounding one sly, blind corner after the other, reckless, irresponsible, playful, a torrent of adrenaline carrying us along. We focused on the track and the track alone. The knocking of our panniers against each other, the rear wheels jostling for grip, the motorbike suspension barely coping with the bumps, all that was only vaguely recalled later, our speed needed total concentration.
We saw very little of the scenery. But it was fun.
That was one of the reasons Anita and I rode the route again a year later. Racing has its merits, but you owe the Cederberg – and yourself – more than that.
The other reason was to test the new R1200 GS on the same road. How would a more modern, more powerful, lighter motorbike, with rider and passenger, fare on this stretch of paradise?
It was the first week in November that we rode via Ceres and the Gydo Pass to Op-die-Berg and then turned right to Blinkberg Pass. We didn’t hurry, as we wanted to look around. Firstly at the Skurweberg on the left: an inaccessible landscape of wicked, sharp rocks, rof en onbeskof (rough and rude), as Tolla van der Merwe would say. The Koue Bokkeveld.
Later the angles became softer, the valleys longer, the road a bleached yellow ribbon laid by long-gone engineers, the souvenir