On our way back to town Shakile takes us for one last loop around the hills and we see a rhino surrounded by Cape buffalo. Fancy that — two of the Big 5 together. Magic.
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The early morning is the time to see the animals at their best so we’re picked up at 4.00 am to visit Hluhluwe IMfolozi Game Reserve. Dawn is breaking when we get to the park gates. There’s a monument here to the men and women who have lost their lives working for animal conservation: some have died on game walks, gored by animals; some have been murdered by poachers. It’s a sobering start to the day.
This park is vast and you could come here and not see a living creature. We hope the animals aren’t hiding in the wilderness today.
The first animal we see is a brindle gnu, also known as the wildebeest. A few kilometres further into the park and we come across a young male lion and his female companion lying in the middle of the road.
The gentle morning light makes them look even more beautiful. We don’t go much further when we see a male elephant a little way off the side of the road, eating. Around the corner there’s a group of females with some little ones. It’s pretty amazing to see them feeding right on the road, just a few metres in front of us.
While we watch, some more of the herd come from the side of the road. All goes well for a while and then the dominant female, who has a tracker collar on, gets agitated. As she starts to move towards us, our guide inches his way forward, hoping to move them off the road. Then more agitated elephants move in behind the truck. One starts to bellow, a chilling sound. We’re surrounded by elephants and some of them are far from happy. This is exhilarating and alarming.
Geoff, our guide, forces his way through the herd, leaving three small cars that were behind us surrounded.
The game reserve is filled with birds, antelope, giraffe and monkeys. The herds of Cape buffalo are enormous. They run a few metres away from us and then all turn and look back, seemingly surprised that we’re still here. They really are funny.
A troop of baboons come down the road toward us. They all disappear into the bush until they pass the truck, then they emerge again and walk on.
On one of the tracks we pass the three small cars last seen surrounded by elephants. It’s good to know they made it out safely.
The day comes to an end all too soon.
Shirley: I’m a big fan of boat trips so the afternoon hippo and croc cruise is a good way to spend our last day here.
The later hour means the hippos are more active. We see about six pods moving about in the water, giving us a much better idea of how big they actually are. It would certainly be an unnerving experience to see one wandering the streets of St. Lucia.
The captain says the heat will make it difficult to see the crocs and he’s right. Even when he points out a nest on the sand the croc is hard to see, it’s so well camouflaged. You certainly wouldn’t want to take a dip. You wouldn’t even want to dangle your feet in the water. A huge croc moves to the boat and swims alongside for minutes. It’s creepy.
June, our hostess at Zulani, invites us to join her for a glass of local sparkling wine by the pool. We’re enjoying the conversation and the tipple when some other guests join us. One, an older white South African, manages to steer the conversation around to work and complains about how hard his life has been since 1994, the year apartheid ended. He is clearly a bigot. I can feel my blood boiling and am glad June gets the conversation away from politics. I sense she’s embarrassed and doesn’t want her country portrayed in such a negative light.
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We’d like to experience some Zulu culture and book a day at Shakaland in the heart of Zulu country. It was built as a set for the movie Shaka, so we know it’s going to be very touristy, but at least we’ll see some dancing and hear some singing.
Waiting for the warriors who’ll show us around the village and share their heritage with us, we meet the sangoma, the traditional healer. Makhosi is an older woman who would normally be predicting the future by reading palms and the bones. Instead she’s showing us around the village. She’s doing a pretty good job, but she isn’t a warrior.
In the middle of her spiel we hear singing, loud singing. Led by warriors in full African dress, the housekeepers, houseboys and general hotel staff are heading to the office. The warriors are on strike. Makhosi tells us the new management doesn’t treat the staff very well. There’ll be no show today.
Brian: There’s one last road I want to ride before we head home to Australia — the Sani Pass from South Africa to Lesotho. To get there we ride though some of the most beautiful countryside in this region, the Drakensburg Ranges, the highest mountains in the South Africa. The mountains, the rolling hills, the twisty roads, it’s a pleasant ride to Underberg.
The Sani Pass is a 4WD road that’s featured in television commercials for robust off-road vehicles. It’s the highest road in South Africa and ends in Lesotho where we plan to have lunch at the highest pub in Africa. It’s a perfect day with brilliant sunshine — just the day for a ride.
The bitumen turns to dirt before we get to the border post. The policeman on duty is quite the comedian, pointing to my beard and asking if that’s where I keep the cocaine. Ha! Ha! He tells Shirl she should get me full of liquor and cut it off when I’m asleep. Ha! Ha! Ha! Very funny.
We’re eight kilometres from Lesotho. The road gets rougher and rougher the higher we get. There are quite deep water crossings that take a fair bit of concentration.
The road is more rocks than dirt and I have to pick my way through, trying to find the path of least possible resistance. While we’re struggling up the road, hikers are coming down, some of them quite elderly. They’re finding the easiest path too and it’s often where I’d like to ride.
I nearly drop the bike getting through one water crossing and get Shirl off the back. As she’s walking, a bloke on a bicycle comes hurtling down and tells us it’s even harder at the top. Shit.
It’s beautiful up here but it’s certainly not an easy ride. We get to a wide bend where several small bikes and a couple of 4 WD vehicles are parked. This is the point of no return. From here the road is just huge rocks. Apparently torrential rain has washed away some of the surface.
Shirl looks up at the switchbacks that Sani Pass is so famous for and says she’ll stay here so I can ride up to the top and fulfil a dream. I don’t want to go alone — we’re a team. We’ve come this far together and I’m not going to leave Shirl out of it now. Anyway, the road looks really tough and I don’t want to trash the bike at this stage of the game.
Heading back it’s even harder than coming up. At a particularly deep water crossing a bloke on the other side has his camera poised for a photo, probably hoping we come off. I find the right line and gun the bike to get across. I don’t miss the photographer by much. Sorry.
We do what all good Australians do at a time of disappointment — head to the pub for lunch.
Shirley: Our time here is coming to an end. We, and the bike, are booked on a flight to Perth in about 10 days. On the way back to Johannesburg we stop at Hillcrest BMW so the bike will be in tiptop condition for the ride across the Nullarbor Plain in Australia.
Riding back into Johannesburg it’s manic on the roads. It’s the first time we’ve ridden through this kind of traffic for ages and I get a nervous palpitation. Back at Aero Guest Lodge it’s like coming home. Everyone’s pleased to see us. Adrian, the owner, comes by. He’s interested to find out what we think of Southern Africa now. He has a small daughter and another baby on the way. Prior to Christmas they were advised to move out of their home and into the hotel because of the risk of violent home invasions. He has the chance to move into a gated community but wonders whether he shouldn’t just move back to the UK and bring his kids up there. The business opportunities here are better than in the UK but safety is another issue altogether. He’s just not sure what to do. One thing he’s sure of is he doesn’t like living behind bars, gates and electric wire fencing.
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South Africa is a great country, but could we live in a gated community? I don’t think so. Could we live under the constant threat of violence? I don’t think so.
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The bike needs to be completely clean to pass the Australian Quarantine Inspection Service checks. It takes a day to wash the bike, the luggage and the sheepskin seat covers. The sheepskin seat covers are exceptionally filthy with more than a year’s dirt and dust embedded.
I wash them in the bath and need to replace the water more than 10 times to get it clean.
Sparkling clean, the bike’s strapped onto the pallet and bubble wrapped. With a couple of willing helpers it takes no time at all. The paperwork’s ready to go and the bike is booked on the plane tomorrow. At least it can’t be offloaded between Johannesburg and Perth.
Filling in the day before our flight leaves we visit the Apartheid Museum. Our tickets show one of us as white and one non-white. We enter the museum through separate gates, passing through corridors with photographs and stories of the lives of the blacks, Cape coloureds, Asians, Indians — anyone who wasn’t white.
From the museum roof we can see Soweto, the town set up to keep the blacks away from the whites but close enough for them to come to the city and work. The most inspirational exhibition is devoted to Nelson Mandela. It will be a sad day when he passes.
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We’re way over weight and have too many bags for the plane but hope we can con our way into getting the excess baggage on board without a fee. In our dreams. They want to charge us 1,200 rand (about $117.00) for our extra bag. They’re not interested in anything we have to say. Pay up or lose the bag.
We’re in the queue to pay for our extra bag when a well-dressed young man comes to help us. Foolishly we believe he’s from the airline, but he’s a fixer. He disappears with our bags and comes back and tells us to take some weight out of one bag, carry the third bag on as hand luggage and all will be well.
This means take the camping gear as hand luggage so we have to move the tent pegs and poles into our luggage. We become the passengers we hate — the ones with way too much hand luggage. We’ve got two helmets, one bulky motorcycle jacket, the tank bag, the bag that goes on the back of the bike and now the camping gear. Bloody hell.
At the security gate our helper puts his hand out. He hits Brian for 600 rand. We end up giving him 270 rand. It’s cheaper than the excess baggage charges but we’re now overloaded. Luckily we’re allowed through with all the hand luggage.
The flight to Perth isn’t too bad, but we don’t sleep. We’re both so excited about stepping back on Australian soil.
We’ve ridden 10,499 kilometres in Southern Africa. This takes the total for our trip to 81,203 kilometres through 31 countries.
Australia and home
7 – 16 February 2013
Shirley: On our last trip we flew into Darwin and rode home from there. Now we’re in Perth and we’ll ride across the Nullarbor Plain from the west of Australia to the east. Only 3,500 kilometres to go!
We don’t have any problems clearing immigration and customs at the airport. They don’t even need to see our yellow fever certificates. Even the Big 5 wooden animals we bought in Johannesburg are cleared. If all goes well, tomorrow we’ll get the bike. We presume it’s here.
There’s nothing quite like walking through the customs hall doors and seeing a friendly face. Waiting for us is Rex Haw, an old buddy from Melbourne who’s been living in the west for about 20 years. He looks a bit older (but don’t we all) but his curly hair and huge grin stand out among the crowd. He’s taking photos which, within an hour, are on Facebook.
Brian: Shirl and Rex don’t draw breath, talking 19 to the dozen about our trip and reminiscing about their days together as crime reporters in Melbourne back in the 1980s. I leave them to it and ring Richard Dexter from Blue Freight. Richard organised getting our bike to Chile back in 2011 and is helping us get it back into Australia now. There’s good news. The bike is already here. No side trip to exotic locations this time. One short flight and it’s in the freight warehouse. Customs have given it the tick. The Australian Quarantine Inspection Service will see it tomorrow, probably in the afternoon, and then it’s ours again.
The AQIS inspection is the stressful one. They’re very picky, and quite rightly so. There’re so many diseases in the countries we’ve ridden through that Australia doesn’t have. The bike has to be pristine to make sure we’re not bringing in any nasties. That’s why we washed every centimetre of the bike, the luggage and the sheepskin covers.
Back in 2004 when we brought the old bike back into Australia after riding through the Middle East and Asia, the inspector wasn’t happy about signs of Cambodian dirt inside Shirl’s helmet and wanted to destroy the bike’s air filter even though it was a reusable one and had been cleaned before leaving Singapore. I hope we’ve got it all covered this time.
We’re spending four days here with friends. For the first two days we’re with Russell and Cathy Armstrong. Russell and I were presidents of our respective police unions and became firm friends. Like me, he’s recently retired from the union business. We’ve got a lot in common with a love of travel, even though Russell prefers business class air flights over motorcycles, and our sons are chefs. Over the years Cathy and Shirl have become close friends. They even share the same birthday — tomorrow. February 8 is going to be a big celebration for the two Aquarians.
Shirley: Cathy’s taken the day off work. It’s so good to see her and Russell again. We talk about travel and kids, all four of us putting the years of police union business on the backburner. We’ve all moved on.
Fresh mango and prawn salad, good Aussie steak, snags, salad and a glass or three of local sparkling — our welcome home feast is one of the best meals we’ve had in months.
Friday, 8 February — it’s my birthday. The best present I can get is the phone call from Richard telling us the bike has passed the Quarantine inspection. We’re having lunch with Russell at Fremantle when it comes through. We can head out to the airport and get it now.
Brian: The bike comes out of the freight terminal on the forklift. It’s hunky dory! The inspection went off without a hitch, apparently. I’m told his first comment was ‘Fuck, this bike’s clean!’ Ah, we’re back in Australia.
A bit of air in the tyres, a trip to the service station for some fuel and a stop at Russ’s mechanic for some differential oil and I’m on the road. Shirl stays with Russell in the air-conditioned car, talking, of course and making the most of the cool. It’s hot here with temperatures up into the 40s. It’s probably going to be just as hot riding across the Nullarbor.
Russ has organised the birthday celebrations for the girls. First stop is Cathy and Russell’s favourite lookout over the Swan River. It’s lovely in the cool evening breeze sipping champagne watching the yachts and motor cruises moving up and down the river.
Dinner is at a local restaurant. Wendy and Merv Lockhardt are waiting for us. We met them through the police union too, and over the years we’ve become particularly good friends. They’re physically imposing people with big senses of humour to match their stature. There’s always lots of laughter when we’re together.
After dinner we go back to Cathy and Russell’s and sit around their pool with a nightcap. They’re killing us with kindness.
It’s hot again today in Perth — 41°C. There’s no sign that it’s going to be any cooler on Monday when we ride east. It’s good to spend time with Aussie friends catching up and sharing a tale or two from our travels, but we both want to get on the road.
Shirley: We’re up at 6 o’clock to get going before the heat. I’m always saying sad goodbye to friends but today’s a bit different because I’m so excited about getting home.
It’s cool and we have a really nice ride through the hills outside Perth. The scenery is fine and the air cool. We ride 300 kilometres before we stop for breakfast and get to Coolgardie around lunchtime.
This is a virtu
al ghost town but was once a thriving gold town. The majesty and size of some of the remaining buildings show what the town once was. It’s early to stop riding for the day but it’s hot again and we don’t want to kill ourselves in the heat.
Brian’s timed the ride so we’ll be in Apollo Bay on Victoria’s southern coast on Friday week for dinner with family and friends at his son Gavan’s restaurant. His other son Stephen will be there with our daughters-in-law, five grandchildren and some good friends. It’s going to be a huge welcome home party.
The next day it’s another early start — 5.30 am. We really need to beat the heat.
We’re easy pleased now. A salad sandwich with beetroot at a petrol station for lunch is fantastic. Good old Aussie beetroot — you can’t beat it.
When we refuel Brian notices the bike is using a lot of fuel. Normally we use about 4.5 litres per hundred kilometres and it’s up to about 6.8. He puts it down to the headwind which is constantly with us riding from the west to the east on the Nullarbor.
It’s Wednesday, February 13. We don’t have far to go so we don’t rush off too early. We’re in Eucla on the West Australia/South Australia border by lunchtime. There’s not much in these communities on the Nullarbor: the petrol station, restaurant, store, motel and caravan park are about it.
Eucla was once a major Overland Telegraph outpost. The ruins of the telegraph station are quite close to the ocean and the white sand is slowly enveloping them.
We unload the bike, get into some lighter clothes and ride down the track to check out the ruins. It’s a lovely part of Australia, down here by the Great Southern Ocean. The sun’s shining and it’s great to be on home soil. We’ll be in Melbourne before we know it.
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