2001 Biking South Africa

Day 10, Monday, June 25
Villiers to Reitz
99.6km @ 14kph

Unseasonal rain, mist-gentle, fell as we left our campsite next to the Vaal this morning – and it was cold enough to fog our breaths. During this long slow day we conquered a thousand hills – or so my knees tell me. The optimists out there are quick to say that hills are only half up. Despite the obvious logic inherent in this statement, I am not a believer. No doubt because the ups take so much longer to accomplish than the downs. We heated to sweating-point on the ups; and cooled to chill on the downs. And admired in passing the muted shades of a rural Free State; of farms abandoned, poor and prosperous.

We left Villiers this morning in a very light mist-gentle drizzle, our breaths frosty on the air, and hit the road for Frankfort. Luckily it was fairly quiet out there. Just one hill after the other – gently rolling hills, so quite an attractive vista. Cornfields, people at work with their combine harvesters, a couple of men galloping on horseback, people transporting calves and pigs to market, trees misty-gentle in the distance. Pretty.

We were struggling a little – just general tiredness I think. At Frankfort we decided to “drop in” (literally, the town is in a hollow off the road) for mince vetkoek and tea. Mom and dad joined us there so I could swap my new saddle for my old – in the hopes that I can get some bum-relief on a different shape saddle.

It turned out to be quite a lovely day in the end. Absolutely wind-free which is the most important thing. Pretty chilly, but we were warmed by climbing a gazillion hills – sweaty-hot on the ups, chilly-cool on the downs.

Golden corn and green trees. At one point we passed a row of trees that used to be the entrance to a farm. The farmhouse now dilapidated at the end of the drive and obviously abandoned.

Out here the sheep blend so well into the cut mielie fields I didn’t even notice a whole field / flock until I heard them rustling and moving amongst the dry stalks.

All muted colours, even the houses are muted; blackish clouds above still, but beautiful light below.

On the road, some bad potholes, especially those where the still-wet tar had been pressed into a dangerous ridge. And in places the black tar was peppered with yellow corn fallen from the back of passing trucks.