Backroads

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another show of power. On the back end of this came far cooler temperatures under cloudy skies. After the last 1,000 or so kilometers of riding in the sun we’d gladly trade it off. Although many riders feel that they have no need for a good tour company, it always helps to have others with you who know the little ins and outs of the region. Thus, at SAMA’s suggestion, we followed our intrepid leader along a tiny one lane tar roadway that rode through deep jungle and down a winding path to the bottom of Oribi Gorge. What was stunning from the top was impressive from the bottom as well. This was just the beginning of the best day’s ride, if not the weirdest weather-wise. Heading east from Oribi we found another tiny coastal road and headed south. Unfortunately our planned fuel stop and the surrounding area had suffered a power outage from the previous night’s storms and now our need for gas was beginning to mount. With nothing else to do but continue on we followed the road, which headed back up the peaks and along the most fascinating terrain. South African’s call this the Wild Coast and with good reason. This part of the country still follows tribal rule and the Pondi, as the locals are called, still live much like they have for centuries, although modern Planet Earth is slowly enveloping them. There are no real streets or any addresses I could see, but the locals have their homes, round rondevals, and farms spread out for miles on the incredible rolling hills and mountains that so govern the region. Along the way south, strong rivers have cut deep gorges and many little port and fishing villages can be found where the rivers meet the sea. We finally found a fuel station with power in the little town of Bizana, where we filled each bike to the brim. The Bantam B22 Micro Light aircraft banked to the right and dropped altitude. Below me half a dozen elephants casually looked skywards as the small craft buzzed over their mighty grey heads. To the west the sun was just beginning to give its final kiss before rapidly dropping from view and offering the land to the embrace of a waning moon. As we came into land I could see the group of motorcycles, parked for the night, looking so small from the height. It was our first full day on the road in Africa and things were just beginning. We flew in, a few days earlier to Johannesburg, South Africa, on a flight from JFK, with a quick hour layover for fuel and additional passengers in Dakar. You would think that landing in Dakar your journey would be almost over. Not so; much like “South of the Border” on I-95 where you are less than half way to the Keys, Dakar is closer to New York than Johannesburg. With another 8 hours to go it can almost be depressing. Still soon enough the near 20 hour trip brought us to Jo-Burg and into the capable hands of South African Motorcycle Adventures, or SAMA. A tight family run operation headed up by Darryl Berman and run with son and daughter Jonathon and Nicole, we had met them a few years back at the New York Motorcycle Show and were impressed by what they offered riders wanting to explore South Africa.

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