Tuesday, February 21, 2012

A Short Bike Tour in the Eastern Cape

A female kudu clatters loose rocks as she lopes from her shady spot under the clump of thorn-trees.  I watch her, beautiful and graceful, sorry that I’ve disturbed her and sent her into the heat of the day. 

I’ve stopped for a break on another thigh-burning climb, sun ricocheting off the asphalt.  I’ve replaced my empty water bladder with another and I suck on the mouthpiece.  The water has a sour, spicy taste.  It’s been baking on my carrier in the sun for three days.   I’m annoyed that I was too lazy to fill it with fresh water before I left Riebeek East.   I decide not to risk drinking it.  Instead I choose to nurse my bottle of Game for the next two hours until I get back to Bedford.  It’s a long time to last on three quarters of a litre in temperatures of over thirty degrees, but it seems better than getting ill while still on the road.

The morning started on the gravel road out of Riebeek East and then through the gates into the game reserve to take a short cut which would save me over 20 kilometres.  A warthog and her young kicked puffs of dust behind them as they sprinted, tails held high like stiff little flags,  away from the man on the bicycle.  A herd of impala grunted their warnings and sprang high in the air as they ducked into the cover of the bush.  The morning clouds had burnt off before I’d even swung my leg over the crossbar.  Sweat dripped off my nose.

The gravel road leads me up into the kloof and through dense indigenous woods.  When I finally reach the summit I’m rewarded with views of the plain below, Salisbury Plain. The distant Winterberg guard the north.  My journey will take me to their feet.


The road from Grahamstown to Bedford is a quiet one.  Thorn bushes encroach onto the tar and every now and then I swerve grudgingly to avoid a puncture.  I’m conscious of my dwindling water supply and also of my need to eat.  On the first two days of the tour I hadn’t eaten enough because I discovered that getting my panniers open was difficult with the tent and sleeping bag strapped on top.  I suffered for my laziness.  During the final 10 to 15 kilometres my energy hopped over the barbed wire fence and skipped off into the fields leaving me as weak as a baby.

On the final day, to solve the snack problem, I strapped my bum-bag onto the top of my gear and filled it with snacks.  Now the problem was finding a shady spot to have a food break.  The thorn-bushes seemed to grow from the bottom, leaving no space for me to get underneath.  The mid-day sun cast no shadows.  I sit next to my bike scraping at the bit of shade cast by my panniers.  Curious drivers stare as they speed by.  Some even wave.

I see more animals: A mongoose or three sprint across the road, springbok graze in the distance.  Angora goats scatter from the fence and cattle gaze thoughtfully at my slow progress, their cud-chewing is in time with my cadence as I battle up yet another long slow hill.

15 kilometres from my destination I come across a big old pine tree.  I lie in the long grass and welcome shade, all but draining the last of my game.  I enjoy the old pine’s cool hospitality for ten or fifteen minutes before I push on.

The four day tour was instructive.  I’ve learned that I need to cut down on my already minimal kit.  Less weight equals easier kilometres.  I’m still not eating enough on the road, I need more snacks.  I need to take some breaks rather than hammering along for hours on end, particularly on longer days.   Oh yes, I mustn’t forget to check that all my kit is securely attached:  retracing my route for a couple of kilometres to retrieve aforementioned bum-bag was tedious.  And painful!

5 comments:

Chris said...

Sounds like a real adventure. I have a folding bike that I've done a fair bit of travel and camping with. You're right about cutting down on the gear you have with you - the less you carry the easier everything will be - as long as you have what you need, of course. I've never done any cycling in Africa though. Sounds like a really cool place to check out.

Paul said...

Hi Chris, I'm impressed that you can tour with a folding bike! I thought those were just for getting on and off the tube with! There's plenty of interesting cycling in Africa. Although the distances between things can be vast at times! Check out www.shanecycles.com, he's just past through SA on the way back to Europe on his bike. Thanks for your comment and happy cycling!
Regards
Paul

George said...

Hi Paul,

I like the way you describe things. It's like...well...it seems real. You could not have known that the bushes seem to grow from the bottom unless you tried to crawl under one. Also you take the reader 'off the page' as it were..."energy hopped over the barbed wire fence..." which is kindof...ummm, well I can feel your loss/dispair but also your hope/joy in being able to free yourself of your physical state. I've never done a proper bicycle trip so I can't say I speak from experience. I'm not so sure weight is a problem. Up to a point of course, but...you need what you need for a specific experience. Walking the 'Fish'for six days I took a table and a chair because I hate sitting on my bum on a rock or in the sand with my food. To me that was not excess weight. What about moving some stuff onto the front wheel? I think it is wonderfull that you appreciate the South African country side. I think there is enough here to see and experience to last a lifetime and I hope to do more of that myself. Best wishes for future travels.

Paul said...

Hi George!

Thanks for your comments. Wow, I don't think I'd want to carry a table and chair into the Fish River Canyon! Sounds a bit hardcore! I'm a bit of a minimalist in these matters. Whether hiking or biking I like to carry as little as possible. I've no problem with other folks taking lots of luxuries etc, as long as they don't conk out forcing me to pick up the excess! Which I've had to do in the past.

Regards
Paul

George said...

You're right Paul, sorry, that does sound a bit 'hard core'. The chair was actually an aluminium camping stool and the table was made from an old camera tripod with a bracket supporting four old car number plates (all aluminium)held together with elastic bands. Also I only attempted this on my third trip when I more or less knew what to expect. And yes, people get stuck out there with things like tinned food and bottles of dish washing liquid and what not, and you gotta bale them out. For me the challenge was to try and live a 'normal' life out there, not just...'been there, done that' and you can actually do that I believe (like Thoreau in 'Walden'). It's surprising how little you need. Just reading something here now that Garrard (with Scott in Antarctica) said in 'The Worst Journey', "...the luxuries of civilisation satisfy only those wants which they themselves create". I wonder if pulling a trailer behind one's bike will not do? Something that can double as a platform for a bed and a small kitchenette and...and...just kidding!
Regards