2004 Biking North Cape

Nuwerus, Tuesday, Dec 28; Garies Guest House, R680 total; 86.4 km @ 13 kph; max 48 kph; cycle time 6h27

We left the Garies Guest House soon after 05h00, pumped our tyres at the garage, and climbed the hill out of the Groenrivier valley back onto the N7. Into another perfect morning en route to Bitterfontein and Nuwerus. A nice long flat began the day, but we spent the rest of the day climbing and dropping, climbing and dropping. Our slow average attests to a fairly tough day overall.

Soon after leaving Garies we looked back to see our almost full moon still high in the sky – and lovely.

We were passed on the road by ambulances both coming and going. And later, at the 20 km to Bitterfontein mark, we came across a car lying battered on the roadside. A reminder to take care.

We brunched in the Western Cape and by Bitterfontein were tired and hot. We stopped at the local garage for a loo break and ice cream and sat in the shade overlooking the granite stone yard opposite.

I was dreading the final 16 km, especially as Charl had been told it was as up and down as the road from Garies. But, except for a longish climb out of Bitterfontein and a tough one just before the nice drop into Nuwerus, the road was often flat and the distance easier than we had anticipated. On the second long climb in the horrible heat (we only reached Nuwerus at 13h30 so it was way too hot out there) a jeep driver stopped to ask if we needed cold water – nice.

In the veld to our left, soon after conquering the final incline, Charl spotted ginormous baboons, that scampered away, one uttering a really loud bark, and then sat on rocks and watched us.

We arrived in Nuwerus to find mom and dad had gotten into a…disagreement…with our hosts! This was our most expensive accommodation to date and we were expecting something special. No air con, however, and, through some sort of miscommunication, a B&B rather than self-catering. Our hostess had even told dad we should go and live with the fleas (purportedly the size of ticks) at the Bitterfontein Hotel! They had made peace before our arrival and later our hosts agreed to serve our breakfast for supper.

Supper was delicious, but the company of our hosts shocking. The ultimate racists who blatantly talked of kaffirs and their hatred of them throughout our meal – and who live in Nuwerus because it is free of kaffirs (22 white families in town, 600-odd ‘others’ (coloureds) in the township)! We later decided their punishment was having to live in Nuwerus and having to drink the worst water we have had to date (a lot of the water in this part of the world is bitter indeed).

Charl and I went out to look at the dirt road we had planned to take out of Nuwerus – 29 km before hitting tar again to Doringbaai. After much discussion and anxiety, Charl (sweet man) finally accepted that I was too scared to take the dirt and we agreed that mom and dad would drive us to Vanrhynsdorp from where we would cycle instead.

By car to Vanrhynsdorp; cycle to Doringbaai, Wednesday, Dec 29; Die Anker, R500 total; 83.3 km @ 13 kph; max 90 kph!!!; cycle time 6h25

We packed early-ish having decided not to tackle the 29 km of dirt road from Nuwerus and mom and dad drove us down the N7 and dropped us in Vanrhynsdorp just before 07h00. After visiting the loo and pumping our tyres, we got onto the R27 west – bound for Doringbaai. Tired out from our previous days’ cycling, but relatively optimistic about the day.

The R27 is narrower than the N7 and has no shoulder. And some of the drivers here are more aggressive and less willing to slow down when there is oncoming traffic than they were in the Northern Cape. So they sometimes passed way too close for comfort – scaring the hell out of me. But in general most were polite, careful, friendly. One man, much later in the day, stopped to offer iced water and a ride. Very tempting indeed in our then-state of greatest discomfort, but we only took him up on the former.

The first 23 km through gently rolling country, dropped us from brown into green at Vredendal. Pretty Vredendal sits on the Olifants River – or what is left of it. The river itself flows round and about in cement canals; the river bed is covered in vineyards. The last time we saw so much green was at Kakamas – or perhaps Aggeneys.

Vredendal is a well-established dorp with all the amenities. We breakfasted at the Wimpy and enjoyed our cycle through the rest of the strung-out residences and farms between green vineyards and often pretty gardens. Though in one garden we did see green shade netting nailed to the ground in lieu of grass! In one of these vineyards a worker caught sight of me and drew me to the attention of the rotund farmer beside whom he was standing. The farmer tried to peer at me first over then under the vines – Charl, cycling behind me, tells me he really strained his neck to see me! This has been the case throughout, with those passing in either direction swinging around for another look or peering at me in their rearview mirrors. Coloureds more restrained than expected – a sign of racism rife?

In the increasing heat we found ourselves climbing several ungraded hills – which reduced us often to a walk. After a longish climb we had a super drop to under an impressive Sishen railway bridge – which spanned the hills on either side of the Olifants on enormously high pillars. Charl overtook me going down and as I rounded the last corner I saw that his orange flag had fallen off the back of his bike. I managed to stop within a few metres and tried hoo-hooing for Charl. Then laid down my bike and walked back. Just as I bent to collect the flag, mom and dad too rounded the corner and, as I knew they would, they assumed some sort of accident. I waved them on but they drew up as soon as they could. By then Charl, called back by someone on the roadside who had heard me calling, was cycling back and when he reached me I sent him hurrying back to allay the family fears.

The day began to be really trying now, with my backside back to feeling as though I was seated naked on sandpaper! But we climbed and dropped and coped, hoping that after we turned onto the 363 for the final 35 km to Doringbaai, things would for some reason be easier.

We saw today three dead snakes, one skilpad dop and one (live) dung beetle rolling dung on the side of the road.

Just before Lutzville (named after the builder of the canals here and in Upington) we dropped off the 363 into a lovely flat valley with houses on the hillside to our left and the flat river bed filled with green vineyards on our right. The road curled between the two – flat and pleasing. At the corner where we turned onto the final leg, we took a break at the Indraf Cafe – ice cream and colddrink and sarmies in the shade.

If we thought the day was tough before then, we were in for a shock. As we rounded the bend onto the 362 proper, we encountered the first of many long hills and discovered immediately that we would be cycling directly into a strong wind – for the first time on this trip. In fact, a coloured man walking down the hill toward us as we pushed our bikes upward, asked Charl where we were headed. When Charl said ‘Doringbaai’, he laughed and said we were headed straight into the wind!

Had the road been flat, it would still have been tough. The many inclines, although gentle on the whole, were therefore a trial. And the road just seemed to go on and on. Especially as we were not sure of the exact distance and the very few road distance markers contradicted our map. It was on this stretch of road that we were offered tempting-in-the-extreme water and a ride!

But at last there was the sea at tiny Papendorp and I knew Strandfontein and Doringbaai followed within kms (though it turned out to be a very long 8-odd km between each). We did turn a little south here and so the wind was not quite as bad, but I was finished!

Along this stretch of road we saw the Sishen train headed for Saldanha – a distance of 861 km. Four trains a day leave Sishen, each consisting of 216 trucks each loaded with 100 tonnes of iron ore. The trains are over 2 km long and we saw this one stretching in a long curve from horizon to horizon. We stopped to watch it move by, as did a couple of cars.

Also saw hundreds of tiny snails on roadside plants.

Then past Strandfontein and the last 8 km into Doringbaai – arriving after 15h00 (thank goodness it is cooler on the coast). With our nice rooms (mom and dad had a lovely view of the sea and harbour and lighthouse and, mom swears, a briefly-blowing whale) at Die Anker and an excellent dinner at The Cabin next door.