Sunday 3 May - Those that knew me before I journeyed to the southern hemisphere would probably describe me as Miss Play it Safe.They would be surprised, as I surprised myself, for today I donned on leathers, and jumped on not one, but two motorbikes. Well anything for pancakes!
After losing a good friend many years ago in a biking accident, I swore blind you’d never get me on one of those 'things', but maybe South Africa has unearthed the daredevil in me and as they say ‘never say never!’
Saying that I woke feeling far from daredevil like and actually praying for precipitation, the only way to postpone the day without losing face! The weather being inclement recently, it wasn’t a huge ask, but oh no, beautiful blue skies and the sun shining. A good a day to die as any, I suppose!
I heard the bike before I saw it, a huge hunk of metal. Against my better judgment, I leathered up and with crash helmet firmly in place, straddle the roaring machine, clinging on for dear life. What on earth was I thinking!
Travelling to Marloth to change from off roader to road bike, eyes firmly shut I see little of the landscape whizzing past. First leg of the journey over, dismounting, I find I am shaking, quite literally, my pins turning to jelly. Words of reassurement such as ‘You cannot fall off’ prove to be little comfort, particularly as the sentence is barely complete, and the bike crashes to the ground whilst maneuvering it back into the garage.
Not any less scary on the road bike, but I venture to keep my eyes open. Heading down the N2, I focus on the landscape, the open fields, the occasion herd of goats, some on hind legs munching the tree foliage, all shadowed by the magnificent Langeberg. Leaving the main road, we wind through Suurbraak, avoiding nomadic cattle and children playing in the street, then on the pass towards Barrydale, we meander through the dramatic scenery, lush green mountains cascading down into water filled ravines, all the while the sunshine causing pretty spectrums in my visor.
Arriving at our destination, The Country Pumpkin in Barrydale for breakfast, I cannot help myself. OK, I’ve admitted it already - I swore I’d never get on a motorbike, but that hasn’t stopped me harboring a secret fantasy of one day becoming a wanton biker chick, all legs and leather, casually removing my crash helmet, and shaking free waves of shimmering blonde locks which flow full of life momentary in the breeze, before tumbling down my back in Hollywood slow motion. Sadly such is life, reality barely touches the fantasy, gingerly removing the helmet without the loss of an ear, my golden mane lays lifeless, firmly stuck to my head, with the fullness and body equaling that of Mahatma Gandhi.
Thankfully the breakfast, started with a shot of some alcoholic complimentary for bikers, was worth all the drama and it is time to travel back, or so I think.
Heading the wrong direction for home, we ride into the arid landscape of the Little Karoo, in search of renowned biker haunt known as Ronnie’s Sex Shop. Situated midway between Barrydale and Ladismith, this place started life as Ronnie’s Shop, selling a few oddments to passing travellers, but after a raucous all nighter, some bright spark drunkenly took a ladder, paintbrush and red paint and made a small, but substantial addition to the signage. And who would have thought it, sex sells, even in the desert. Ronnie, the ZZ top look-alikey now owns one thriving business with Road Kill Café, small shop selling T-shirts and one infamous bar, where you can pin your business card to the wall and leave your bra hanging from the ceiling. The toilets are equally entertaining walls cove
red with graffiti from all corners of the globe. Not wanting to let the side down, I felt compelled to make my own addition.Returning to the safety of Bontebok, much to my Mothers relief, no doubt, I know I will never be a biker chick, yet I have gained a valuable insight into the two wheeled feet of engineering, and can now understand the attraction held avidly by others.
For Jody, always remembered for your love and your laughter. You are missed, dear friend.
