Kalahari pt 1

“The people you meet during a long trip will stay in your memories longer and deeper than any sunset, sunrise or landscape.”

Jan

After a couple of tough days pushing myself through to Kimberley in 40+ degrees I was a little relieved when the lady wouldn’t let me camp but instead had to take a slightly cooler dorm room on a soft mattress with nice clean white sheets. After a couple of days of rice and canned veg I was ready for a good old fashion steak and chips, and as luck would have it there was a reasonably priced restaurant on site.
After the usually pleasantries and first cold beer Jan the barman presented me with the menu. At which point I asked if he was also the chef, which he confirmed.
I say “Thats good news” a little confused Jan replies “why is that?” “well you see, one of the rules I live by is never trust a skinny chef” Jan burst into a deep laughter and continued to have a toothless grin on his face for a while, It was a childlike grin you see when young kids are waiting for their front teeth to grow in. The ice broken I ordered a wonderful 300g steak egg and chips for only €6. My best friend once told me that if you plan to tip when staying a few days tip on the first day, not the last you never know what extra’s it may bring. I was so happy and content after my steak and a few beers that I left the price of a beer as a tip.
The next days as I prepared for my Kalahari adventure I built a strange bond with Jan at breakfast and dinner. The next evening I ordered the same steak and chips which was now 50% more chips and meat. When I tried to pay he tried undercharging me by one beer, and I once again wanted to tip the price of a beer, so we agreed that I should pay the menu price. By the third night I was being asked to “test” new starters and took a T-bone as my “last supper” before going into the desert. Once again we had to argue about him trying to undercharge me. He couldn’t imagine or understand my trip, but he didn’t judge, instead he was curious and interested so I didn’t get the you’re going to die speech I get from most South Africans . Jan was a simple man, content with his simple life in Kimberley running a couple of quiet little restaurants, but what a pleasure to meet such a nice guy with a beautiful child like smile and his heart in right place.

The road to hell (Well Hotazel —–>Hot’az’el)

I’ve no idea if there is such a thing as the Green Kalahari but that’s what the locals call the area north of Kimberley until the red stuff starts. The traffic on the R31 all the way to Hotazel was alot worse than I expected due to alot of mine traffic on this thin piece of tar road. I spent most of my time looking in my mirror for traffic then moving onto the bad gravel hard shoulder as traffic approached.
For a couple of days I was able to follow a parallel dirt road and avoid the R31, in this time I started my tropical routine. Starting early, cycling to 9-10am finding shade somewhere in my hammock until 6pm then hitting the road again for a couple of hours. For a little irony during these hot days in the shade I’m reading South by Shakelton, what amazing story of courage and determination in real extremes.

A minor inconvenience

Leaving Kuruman I was once again on the busy R31, about 20km outside of town I was enjoying the rush of fresh cool air going down hill at about 65km/h. I looked at the gravel hard shoulder and though “I shouldn’t really cycle this fast on this road, if I have to move over for traffic onto that gravel at this speed I’m screwed”. I quickly looked in my mirror and saw three cars coming over the crest of the hill, a quick glance forward and I saw a truck coming the other way “I’M SCREWED!!!”
I quickly hit the brakes for a second then moved over onto the gravel, lightly squeezing the rear brake hoping it would slow me down before it all went wrong. A little wobble and then it was all over, a cloud of dust, the grinding noise of me and the bike sliding through the gravel and a flash of light.
“Ohh, this is inconvenient…..Don’t fucking move, think, relax, think, stay calm, wait 30 seconds and see what hurts and what is broken” and so I lay still as the dust settled for 30 seconds. Then I went through a the process of moving things and was happy only to feel the pain and throbbing of my forearm, “don’t think its broken just nasty gravel rash”.

I did my best to clean up my arm with babywipes, cut off a rather thick flap of skin with my blunt nail scissors then spent 20 minutes getting Mr Hyde road worthy again (lucky he too only had gravel rash and bent brake levers).
For a solo cyclist this is a possible moment of disaster where fear, pain and doubt can take over. I considered heading back to Kuruman to find a clinic to get myself checked out but figured they’d just clean me up and say rest for a while. I was really worried that this might give me an excuse to quit my desert adventure before it really started, that my fears would reinforce my doubts and leave me stuck in Kuruman to make a different plan. “No way young man, man the fuck up and move on”. And so a little beaten up, a very sore arm and a couple of bruised ribs I battled on for a couple of hours and pushed on for 2 more days.
To add insult to injury round about this time my bowels went onto 5 minutes notice several times a day (just what I need in the desert) I suspect that this Kalahari farm tap water doesn’t agree with my soft European insides.
I arrived 2 days later in Van Zylsrus. Tired from sleepless painful nights, sore from the last 20km of bumpy dirt roads and generally a little rough. Van Zylsrus really is nothing, a dead desert village with 1 shop a church and 3 very expensive (for me)hotels. I decided to bite the bullet and just get an expensive room(€40) so that I could clean myself up properly and see what the gravel damage really was, take a rest day in the airco etc. That afternoon I slept for 6 hours and another 10 that night.

Stuck!

I woke up rested but still really sore a little sick and still having problems with my bowels, feeling alone, broken and stuck. Cant go back, going forward is going to be very painful and potentially dangerous in this environment and staying still to rest is going to be too expensive and only have 10 days left to leave the country….what to do…..what to do…..I’m Stuck!!!
“The people you meet during a long trip will stay in your memories longer and deeper than any sunset, sunrise or landscape.”

The room at the Kalahari Lodge in Van Zylsrus at €40 is way above my budget but for the luxury it offers it’s certainly worth its money for anyone not travelling on my budget, and if in Europe I’d love to be able to get such a nice room for €40. But I figured if spending a little more money gives me the rest I need then so be it, my trip is about quality rather than quantity, if I have to finish a little earlier but have a better, safer and happier trip then that’s the choice I’ll make…..
Though breakfast was not included the owners invited me to join them and their visiting friends. This later led to an invite to join them on a game drive (saw 1 bok then started drinking and bbq’ing thats South Africans for you) and later I spent the whole evening with the family and friends and felt as if I’d known these people for years.

What a difference a day makes

As I went to bed I cried, and now again as I write this. The warmth, openness and love which this group of friends have given me took me in 12 hours from emotional rock bottom and recharged me to where I should be. Giving me the strength to carry on. So tomorrow after giving a talk to 500 kids in the township here I can once again head out into the wilderness bruised and sore but strong. Though I do still have my doubts about my ribs being up to a bone shaking 600km of dirt roads, but time will tell, if not then I’ll have to make a plan B and try to get a lift….