There are four basic parts to a bicycle tour. Dreaming, Planning and Prep, The Ride, cherishing Memories. This time around I decided to include a writeup as part of the cherishing. I do so in semi-detail from a 1st person point of view to hopefully entertain but more importantly assist those with similar trips in mind and inspire people that’s under the impression that the freedom of bicycle travel is beyond their reach. It is simply the best way to fully experience travel and engage all the senses.
For those interested in some background info to this excursion, click HERE
For the video click HERE
The route was an out and back from George Airport situated in the Western Cape province of South Africa. Cape Cycle Routes “Karoo Crossing” was done, as well as some sections of the “Cross Cape” The rest was thrown together to visit friends and get back to George for the flight home.
Day 01
A noon arrival at George airport after a bumpy ride across the mountains in rainy conditions. After an hour’s worth of reassembly, the bike box was stashed for the return leg, and I excitedly peddled off to town in the cool drizzle. Gas canisters are not allowed on aircraft and would have to be purchased in town. As I entered town via the industrial area, plenty hardware stores were around to produce the goods. The stores were there and the staff friendly, but the screw on cannister was consistently out of stock. Even a gas shop did not have. They recommended I try one of the specialty outdoor stores on the other side of town at the mall. Where I saw myself being carried over the first of many river crossings on quant bridges on the old road to Knysna by now, I was in the thick of afternoon traffic heading for the dreaded mall. Outdoor Warehouse, bless their souls, produced the cannister.
As I was about to get going outside the store, an older gentleman leaning heavily on a cane and dressed smartly in jacket, cravat and cap came over. I just wanted to get going. End of the day, he was quite knowledgeable on all things bikepacking and we had a good chat about the bike and options to improve the getup. His ideas were fresh, and he had good knowledge of the latest craze in gravel bike design and gear. He tapped against his calf with the cane and with a twinkle in his eye advised that as soon as he is healed up a bit, he intended to pimp out an E-bike for a bikepacking trip. I also learnt that MTB in George appeared to be quite the thing and many folks enjoyed their fab surrounds on the back of a bicycle.
After the detour I managed to find myself at the quiet entrance to the Seven Passes Road as announced by the white on brown signage boards that are usually found in beautiful places where adventure waits.
It was already late afternoon and it still drizzled intermittently. The scenery didn’t disappoint though, and the bike felt good. Asphalt was replaced by gravel. The Swartrivier pass, Kaaimansgat pass, Silver river pass and Touw river pass crossed their respective rivers in grand style and gave the engine room a taste of what was in store for the days ahead. Not the most serious of passes but located in short succession they provided a descent workout. Even for a Monday I expected the road to be busier, but there was very little vehicular traffic to disturb the silence. The vehicles that were encountered had courteous friendly drivers behind the wheel. One lady even stopped and asked if I was OK while I waited out a small downpour under a tree.
With the sun out of sight as it lay low behind the typical Garden Route cloud cover, I stopped at the Woodville Trading Store. A distinguished gentleman introduced himself as Alan, owner of the store and adjacent farm. In pre-covid times they had accommodated numerous cyclists from around the globe, and we hit it off in grand style. On the subject of accommodation, I pointed to a lean to and advised that it would make a fine roof for my leaky tent. One thing though led to another and I soon found myself hanging wet gear in a quant cottage in a secluded corner of their homestead. Lesson learnt from previous similar situations. You might be kitted for the wild, but when an opportunity to sleep in comfort at an agreeable rate presents itself, grab it with both hands and save your tent for another day’s end.
Total distance for the afternoon 45km
Total ascent: 620m
Time in the saddle: 0230hrs
Average speed: 17km/h
Max Speed: 58km/h
Passes: Swartrivier, Kaaimansgat, Silver river and Touw river.
Low for the day: Having to spend too much time in civilization hunting for a gas canister.
High for the day: My bike survived the flight, the adventure begins!
Lesson learnt for the day: Cotton T-shirts are not fast drying, and you’ll carry that extra weight until it dries.
Day 02
Instant Oats served as initial fuel and cloudy but fine weather set me off into the countryside. Another couple of farm B&Bs were passed. Soon the asphalt turned to gravel and the lush countryside kept tantalizing the senses. Plenty grazing cows for company. No pitstops, or rather none that was open, until reaching The Portland Country Store on Rheenendal road. The first sitting consisted of pie and milk and went down as smoothly as the good asphalt road that replaced the rough gravel. Google maps indicated no further pit stops on route for the foreseeable future, so I stocked up.
Soon after departing the store, the road turned dusty again on the fourth and last pass to complete the set of the Seven Passes Road. (Strangely enough I counted eight recognized passes on the road…) A short piece of easy single-track turned off Phantom pass and landed me on The Red Bridge spanning the Knysna river. A pleasant ride next to the river followed before the N2 highway was intercepted.
Thankfully all 4km’s were spent on a lovely wide paved walkway next to the busy highway.
The serenity of the Seven Passes road was over. At the entrance to the town of Knysna, Old Cape Road beckoned me to turn inland and upwards.
This is the start of Cape Cycle Routes Karoo Crossing. It was past noon, cloud cover dissipated and with a wicked twinkle in the eye the sun appeared; “Hello did you miss me?”
A big billboard announced that Old Cape Road hosts the Knysna Simola Hillclimb for sleek racing cars. I dragged myself up. Not sleekly. The four passes of the morning now took their toll and the going was slow. The long climb that dug deep into my remaining water supply mercifully ended at the Simola Golf and country estate. The map indicated a water point 10km further up the gravel road. The road ahead was lined with ferns and tall dark pines. I decided to source water.
The guard hut at the entrance to the estate was manned by friendly security personnel. They directed me to a tap from where I filled my bottles. They said there is a river ahead, but they wouldn’t drink the water.
A quick descent into the picturesque forest was followed by more climbing. The mentioned river was crossed at the Grootkops and Steenbras river junction. The water was as dark as a good stout beer, and I was thankful that I did not need a refill.
The cool denseness of the Gouna forest was the new backdrop. Dead quiet except for a myriad of birds calling. Not a soul in sight. Gouna picnic spot sported water, ablutions and tables. I pushed on a bit further down Kom se pad where the Grootdraai (translated big bend) site provided the same at a smaller scale. Perfect spot for the night. Freshwater supply on hand and a tree canopy to frame the stars.
The sixpack of eggs that I acquired at the Portland Country Store remained beautifully intact in the Petzl sling bag. Mixed with noodles and Tuna, it would top up protein levels for the next day’s exertion. The days clothes were washed, but there was little hope of it drying in the dank forest.
Total distance for the day 70km (I planned 90 but the forest called the night early)
Total ascent: 1400m
Time in the saddle: 0600hrs
Average speed: 13km/h
Passes: Hoogekraal, Karatara, Homtini, Phantom, Gouna
Low for the day: Adapting to slowly slogging up steep inclines and having to hoof it on a regular basis.
High for the day: Dead quiet forest and the bird calls at night – not your common garden variety.
Lesson learnt for the day: Ask and you will receive.
Day03
Kom se pad continued down the fern lined forest road. It might be classified as a pass, but the going was mostly easy. The road was blissfully quiet with no living soul to be seen or heard. It was now easy to see where Dalene Matthee found inspiration for numerous novels. The Knysna Forest is world famous for its magical beauty, dark and mystical recesses and giant Outeniqua Yellowwoods, some of which are almost a thousand years old.
I strained my eyes in the hope to spot a forest elephant. They might be reported as extinct, but hope prevails. The undergrowth was thick, and I wouldn’t have been able to spot an elephant beyond three meters from the roads edge. There was still no sign of the living bar the birds chirping and wheels crunching on the moist sandy road.
The intersection with the R339 linking Knysna and Uniondale via the Prince Alfred pass was reached too soon. A road maintenance truck sped by to indicate a busier road ahead. Fortunately, it was one of only a couple of vehicles encountered for the day. I turned left to follow the beautiful wide sandy gravel road as it slowly climbed away. A picnic spot with tanked water provided a chow break. Instant oats and cuppa soup. I dragged the bike a hundred meters or so into the wet forest to visit a 600+ year old Yellowwood. Typical forest weather persisted and there was no opportunity to dry the wet tent and clothes.
A short while later the forest opened on a knoll at the Buffelsnek shop. The ranger station was next door, and his wife manned the small but well stocked shop. Carrot cake was on hand and the cold Coke went down splendidly. Clean ablutions were behind the shop. The forest made way for more open shrubland and fynbos that allowed for distant views. The map promised a view site just beyond the ranger station, and it wasn’t kidding. Buzzing chainsaws in the distance provided audio backdrop for spectacular landscapes to the west. Some climbing and a long descend (for me) that will be remembered as a touch climb by competitors of the Karoo to Coast race, much of which ran reciprocal to the days route. After the Buffelsnek shop there was no opportunity to re-supply for the next 20km. The stunning scenery continue up the Prince Alfred pass.
An exhilarating descent around sharp bends on sketchy gravel will rocket you past a sign that announces hot beer, lousy food and bad service. Slam on the brakes and make a hard right into Angies G Spot. A warm welcome by friendly pups is a sign of what can actually be expected from this iconic place. Angie might have passed away, but the boys kept the place in tip top shape. The burger was the best I had in many years, and I pondered as to why I had to find it in this wayward spot. The barman/waiter had the answer: “Here, we have the time”. In touch with this magical venue, the sun broke through the clouds and I hurriedly draped wet clothes and tent to dry. I took a 30min nap on the wooden deck with the sleepy-eyed Border Collie snuggled right up next to me. The burger was given the chance to stoke the engine room fires as a 15km harsh climb awaited straight out the gate. And so it was.
A crystal-clear stream cut its way through beautiful rock formations that towered on both sides of the track. As altitude was gained, wide open views opened to the roadside. The mountain top was obscured by a layer of dark and ominous cloud straight out of Tolkien. The humid heat of the valley was traded for a wet chill, and the slow crunch of MTB tires were more often than not replaced by the shrill scraping of brass cleats on loose rock as the bike was hiked unashamedly.
Cloud Cottage is the last opportunity for formal accommodation before reaching the top of Prince Alfred pass approximately 7km further up the steep road. A short distance, but a long crawl. Wet and windy conditions just below the crest can be expected as the norm. It was indeed so when I was there.
A cracked fork pannier was discovered but nothing that a simple pipe clamp couldn’t fix. It was only around 1500 but felt like after sunset and as un-South African-like as Breconshire as the cloud was entered.
The road flattened mercifully and soon curved downwards. Within a minute a new climate was entered. Warm, sunny, dry. Welcome to the Klein Karoo. Apple orchards in full bloom with the small town of Avontuur just beyond. The urge to skip the low fence and pluck a succulent apple was only dispelled by the good speed down into the broad valley. “Die Spens” ticked all the boxes for a snack stop. It is easy to find, as a steam locomotive is parked right in front of the shop.
Uniondale was just down the road. Good progress was maintained along a beautifully maintained asphalt road. At one stage I looked behind me. The sun was low. The embankment to the left vailed most of the road in shadow, but the high cliffs to the right were bathed in sunshine. Out of nowhere, an icy cold chill ran all the way down my spine. There was nothing behind or ahead that could have caused the strange sensation. It was only that evening while chatting to my wife on the phone over a beer and well stacked pizza at the Hungry Ghost restaurant, that I made sense of it. She asked if I had encountered the ghost of Uniondale yet…
At the entrance to Uniondale, I had a chat with tour operator Jan, owner of Dorcas tours. They cater mostly for German tourists. Covid hit them hard, but Jan was upbeat and interested in my journey. I planned to carry on for another 20km or so and wild camp. Jan advised that a good spot would be hard to find, and that a beer and friendly town accommodation might be a better call. It didn’t take too much to convince the weary traveler, and I realized the next morning that indeed not much good roadside camping would have been had. The town camping grounds was contracted out to a large road maintenance crew. If I wanted to camp, then the man to talk to was Ken that amongst other things, managed the Uniondale golf club. The ride through town was pleasant. Beautifully clean and well maintained with plenty accommodation options on both sides of the main road. On the other side of town, I continued as directed and rode into the hills above town. A small golf course and lovely bowling green nestled in-between the ridges. Quite impressive to say the least. I found Ken. A friendly no nonsense guy with a beautiful calmness to him. He seemed like a man with many irons in the fire, but he unhurriedly found the answer to my accommodation woes. That night I pitched my tent, free of charge, in a beautiful spot after enjoying a warm shower and opportunity to wash the days clothes. Ken’s Angora goats were close by to keep ghosts at bay and the Milky Way shone bright in the crisp clear Karoo sky above.
Total distance for the day 80km
Total ascent: 1700m
Time in the saddle: 0600hrs
Average speed: 13km/h
Max speed: 60km/h
Passes: Kom se pad, Prince Alfred
Poorts: Uniondale
Low for the day: Dragging along wet gear in the morning.
High for the day: Friendly towns folk of the lovely Uniondale.
Lesson learnt for the day: Trust the advice of locals.
Day04
The previous night’s pizza nourished the legs well and all systems was go as I set off through town towards the west. Fitness preparation for the trip was a relaxed affair and I feared that my system would start to frown upon the unfamiliar physical extravagance of the last couple of days. Strictly speaking I was 20km’s behind schedule. In my mind though I was pretty happy having heaved bike and bags this far without any body parts going on strike.
A well-maintained asphalt road with smooth wide gravel shoulders led me into the day. After 10km’s I started up the Potjieberg pass. Thankfully I glanced at the GPS and I realized I missed a turnoff, which when reached, led onto a rough and narrow farm road that snaked into the hills ahead. The road was corrugated but there was always a smooth enough line to follow, even if it meant often crisscrossing the road to find it. A gradual descent winding through the picturesque valley made for a lovely ride. This was hilly Karoo landscape. Mostly arid, but lush citrus plantations produced beautiful fruits. Small farms were abundant in the narrow valley.
At around 45km the day changed mood. It had enough of the morning pleasantries. It was time to swagger some Karoo harshness in the shape of the Kammanassie pass. The farms abruptly dried up, the sun was sitting high and a 10km steep climb ensued. Mount Daskop filled the dashboard view and the sweat was rolling like tears down my grimacing mug. The road remained twisty and now a smooth line in the corrugation was not to be found.
Kammanassie road crossed dry dusty ridges and was flanked by gates warning not to enter ostrich territory. Liquid supplies were running low but the map indicated a shop not far ahead. I could already feel the cold Coke’s burn on the back of my throat and my eyes strained for a sign of the pitstop, but nothing. Eventually I decided that the Karoo and the map printer decided to play a trick on unsuspecting bicycle travelers. I turned back to visit the farmhouse that I recently passed. A friendly young farmer filled my bottles and added ice to the mix. Their neat house looked out over the red landscape. They have not had rain in some time but remained hopeful. A mere 10km down the road I repeated the exercise at another farm. They were at the bottom of a shallow valley and water appeared to be abundant. The garden was lush and the sprinklers were going at it full blast. Strange place this Karoo.
Another hill was conquered with more lunar landscape at the top. Scores of sheep were huddled closely together, heads bowed low to remain in the sparse shade of the others narrow shadow. Up to now, roadside shade had been in very short supply. I found it under a thorny tree and stretched out on my back.
A nice downhill announced that the Kammanassie nature reserve were about to be skirted to the west via Dysseldorp. The downhill however continued and I kept going, passing Dysseldorp’s dusty streets. The corrugations on the other side of town were the worst yet experienced on the journey. Small ostrich farms were on both sides of the road up to the N12 asphalt road. I skipped the Middleplaas road detour option and carried on along the N12 towards De Rust. The gravel shoulder was wide and smooth and kept me out of vehicular harm’s way. Olive groves to the left and good view all round.
It wasn’t much past noon, but the charming town of De Rust was already sleepy. At towns end, I pulled in at Rey’s Coffee Shop and feasted on much of what was on offer. The night was spent at Meijers Rust. A small campsite with very neat ablutions at a reasonable 150ZAR for the night. They also have nice chalets and a dam to swim in. One of the Meijer’s guests were intrigued by the whole bicycle travel affair. She asked what I was thinking on the long, lonely days in the saddle. From her tone it was apparent that a deep philosophic answer was expected, one she probably already started to formulate for herself while asking the question. How does one put an almost spiritual experience into words? It took a while before an answer came forth: “I mostly concentrate on looking where I’m going, not sliding on loose gravel around the bends and falling, not slicing my tire sidewalls on sharp rocks, dreaming about good beer and milkshake combos, eggs and bacon, enjoying the views and the aromas” Being consumed by the moment, leaves little time for trivial long-winded thoughts when journeying through the Karoo on a bicycle.
Total distance for the day 103km
Total ascent: 1400m
Time in the saddle: 0600hrs
Average speed: 16km/h
Passes: Kammanassie pass, Wapadsnek pass
Low for the day: Sheep standing in long lines having to hang their heads below each other’s arses for shade in excruciating heat.
High for the day: Apple orchids in the Klein Karoo.
Lesson learnt for the day: Don’t underestimate the Klein Karoo. Shade is in short supply. Use it when the opportunity arises.
Day05
The southern entrance to the Meiringspoort is just outside the entrance to Barry Meijers place. The map refers to the Meiringspoort pass. But it is a poort (gorge) in essence with very gradual gradients on a superb asphalt road. The poort is a gateway that connects the Little Karoo and the Great Karoo through the Swartberg (Black mountain), via a gorge where a 25 km road crosses the same river 25 times.
The road often has no proper shoulder, especially when crossing over the short low-level bridges. Heavy vehicles use the poort and there is quite a bit of traffic to contend with. Bear in mind that tourist won’t be able to help themselves from being distracted by the amazing scenery, so defensive riding is highly recommended. Wet conditions can often be expected, and in places, especially at the northern entrance, a strong wind funneling through the gorge is almost guaranteed. That said, Meiringspoort is a wonderful ride and deserves many pauses to enjoy the scenery. Immaculately maintained picnic sites with ablutions are abundant.
A visit to the Meiringspoort waterfall is well worth the short hike, and one can always dream of catching a glimpse of an elusive Karoo mermaid in the shallow pools. The friendly staff at the tourist center kept an eye on my bike while I went mermaid hunting. Just outside the poort, the Trans Karoo route follows a detour to the left through the mountains. Cloud was still low and I decided to stay on the asphalt to see what’s cooking in the town of Klaarstroom. Very small community that obviously relies greatly on passing tourists for survival. At least over weekends and during holidays, I guess. This morning most places were closed with hardly a soul to be seen. The Klaarstroom hotel was however running on all cylinders and a young man announced from the stoep that breakfast was available. I decided to keep going and visited the small store at the end of town to stock up for the next two days as I planned to wild camp along the route. Half a dozen eggs, spaghetti in tomato sauce and some apples. I searched for some substantial chow and isotonic drinks, but the store had less than the bare basics. The lockdown wasn’t kind to business and the elderly lady behind the counter advised that they’d be closing down soon in the hope to run something from their house in town.
The 50km’s to the Swartberg pass turnoff (5km short of Prince Albert) flew by on the asphalt road thanks to a nice tailwind. At the top of the Kredouw pass a lovely view of the Prince Albert valley was enjoyed. The road snaked downwards, and I swopped my wide brimmed hat for the helmet and made sure all gear was secure and straps still tight. It was going to be a fast drop. A vineyard and Olive estate whizzed past as the initial steep 3km descent bottomed out. Another 15km’s of more gradual downhill was enjoyed and only interrupted by a quick stop to visit a large turtle that was goofing off next to the road.
At noon the turnoff to the Swartberg pass was reached with 70km having been covered since leaving Meijers Rust. I was tempted to carry on for another 5km and visit the historic town of Prince Albert. A firm favorite amongst tourists with nice B&B’s and restaurants serving the best in Karoo lamb chops and sweet delicatessens, it might just deserve the self-proclaimed title of “Jewel of the Karoo”. I was however itching to get going knowing that a treat was in store ahead.
The Swartberg would now be crossed the second time for the day, this time from north to south via the Swartberg pass. The pass was Thomas Bain’s final and best piece of road building. After the turnoff, things seem bleak and dusty on the corrugated gravel road. A signboard indicating winding road for the next 22km however spells the entrance to a magical world that cannot be described in words and hardly in pictures. I stopped at “Eerste water” (first water) to chill under the tall Blue gum trees and fill the water bottles. I had an isotonic powder stashed away and made a mix. Bonking on the long climb up the pass could spoil the day.
“Tweede water” (second water) was just around the bend and an equally pleasant spot. From here the small river soon drops out of reach into the valley, and this will be the last water point until reaching the other side of the mountain. I was thankful of the capacity to carry five water bottles. They added a lot of weight but relieved the stress of running out. The road surface is good and there is plenty space for other road users to pass safely. Not many vehicles were encountered, and fellow travelers would often stop and have a chat. Progress was slow as I often stopped to admire the views and take a rest. A lot of walking was done. The lower impact reduces fatigue and granny gear spinning energy burn. The legs and back are also properly stretched, and water consumption is lower. That is my story and I’m sticking to it. A lot of unashamed hoofing was done and nearly three hours after leaving “Eerste water” the mountain was crested at a windy lookout point with amazing views.
It was late afternoon when I reached the turnoff to Gamkaskloof, also known as Die Hel (The Hell) Steeped in history, there is only one road in and out of Gamkaskloof. (There is a trail from the north via “the ladder”) The kloof hosts splendid hiking trails, a mountain bike race aptly called “To hell & back” and apparently a trail run called “Midnight Hell run”. Steep, narrow and rocky is what sets it apart from the relative luxurious Swartberg pass. The trail remains a great opportunity for a closeup of the nature that can only be seen from a distance whilst on the Swartberg pass. A diverse range of vegetation is conserved in the reserve, from Renosterveld, mountain Fynbos and Spekboom veld to Karoo-veld and geophyte species. The rare Protea Venusta grows in the higher mountain peaks. Leopards still live in these mountains, although they are rarely spotted by visitors. You are likely to see klipspringer, grey rhebok, kudu, baboon and dassies, as well as springbok in the flatter areas. Lucky visitors may spot caracal or a bat-eared fox.
It is advisable to do your homework before visiting the area. Depending on time of year, hellishly hot days and bitter cold nights can be expected. I couldn’t resist taking the turnoff, knowing that I’d be committed to camping in hell. The road was indeed rough, but the flora was beautiful with blooming Protea flowers often skirting both sides of the rocky track. 10km from the Swartberg pass turnoff I reached a beautiful stream. I doubt if it is perennial but was thankful to enjoy what it offered. Another 10km of mostly sketchy steep downhill saw me running out of daylight just beyond another lovely stream carrying the freshest mountain water. As I pulled into my accommodation for the night, the GPS ticked over to 100km day total. All six eggs survived the ride in the sling bag that was draped over the tent on the handlebar, and they all went into the pot to deliver a protein packed scramble.
Total distance for the day 100km
Total ascent: 1800m
Time in the saddle: 0700hrs
Average speed: 15km/h
Max speed: 68km/h
Passes: Kredouw pass, Swartberg pass, Gamkaskloof pass
Poorts: Meirings
Low for the day: Experiencing the effect of Covid on business owners.
High for the day: Descending into The Hell of Gamkaskloof.
Lesson learnt for the day: The harder the going, the greater the reward.
Day06
The stars were yet again clear throughout the night, but the morning was met with a thin layer of low cloud and a chilly wind drifted through the valley. Another 30km was required to reach the end of the Gamkaskloof to the west. Not knowing if food was available, I decided to head back the way I came. To get down and back up again would have resulted in a very hard day. To hell with bragging rights. I saw what I wanted but promised myself to one day return for the full Hell & Back experience on a nimbler beast.
A light breakfast of coffee and soup was sorted at the first stream. I looked forward to a long downhill run on re-joining the Swartberg pass road. The pass however continued up for another 3km. I was a bit miffed, both at my expectation of the immediate descent as well as having to delay a proper breakfast of famous roosterkoek (Translated Grill Cake. Basically an oven grilled bread with variety of fillings)
I slowly passed an older lady with a huge lens attached to her camera messing around some flowers next to her Land Rover. I greeted but she only gave me a perplexed look, the kind reserved for a homeless man at the entrance to an upmarket shopping mall. “Hup your poop granny” I thought. She was obviously unaware that bikepacking is where you spend a fortune on expensive kit to live like a bum for a while.
The mountain was crested (again) and from Die Top a whole different view emerged. The valley below was wide, and pockets of farmlands were tucket right up to the next mountain range. It was nearly noon, but a chilly breeze had me don my windbreaker before claiming my prize of the previous days toil. The downhill run back into the Klein Karoo was sweet.
The bike pulled out of the high rate of descent at the bottom of the pass, but I was still at speed when a hard right turn was made into Kobus se Gat. The iconic restaurant serves traditional Karoo cuisine prepared on the open fire. A wide porch with a lawn leading off it makes for a delightful pitstop. The place was abuzz. A bunch of guys in matching lycra outfits were mingling all over the place, wives and kids in tow. A camera man to capture their epic venture with group photos being posed for. They were frantically getting ready for the next leg of their epic journey. Shiny silver gravel bikes with red bar tape waited to be mounted. Some were fitted with sparklingly new Apidura saddle bags. On the back of the saddle bags were strapped two items. A shiny yellow blikbeker (tin mug) that matched perfectly the yellow Apidura signage, and a pair of slops hooked into the elastic. I looked over my shoulder. My bag was not standing so perky in its stirrups. Instead of the cool blikbeker, the bloody T-shirt that was damp yet again was strapped on to dry. Where the hip flipflops should have been, a plastic shopping bag with the last two days rubbish in it flapped in the breeze. The thin plastic bag included two opened packets of Tuna that by now contended strongly with my riding breeches for funky flavor of the week. My long-sleeved tech shirt was unbuttoned all the way to reveal a mane of grey breast beard dyed yellow in dust, while a wide brimmed hat was plastered flat against my forehead with dried sweat strands spider webbing across it. A wide-eyed child ducked behind her mother’s skirt while clutching a teddy bear protectively. I disappeared into the shadows and waited for the mayhem to subside. Six days was all it took to turn wild, testament to the success of the trip thus far.
The last support SUV droned out the gate hot on the tail of the peloton and I emerged to quickly drape wet tent and damp sleeping bag (and damn T-shirt) on the lawn to dry. With a Black Label and chocolate milkshake double-parked on the table in front of me, I sat pondering on the shaded porch. Bikepacking / bicycle journeying, whatever you want to call it, is a wonderous thing. Be it a glamping weekend of competitive riding with family, friends, B&B’s and support vehicles in tow, or a multi-stage free as a bird epic of roughing it solo self-supported. Carried by the latest in gravel bike design and modern gear, or on an old bicycle with a breadbasket strapped to the back, or something in-between. No matter the configuration or setup, it cannot be done wrong. As long as stress free fun is had, respect for environment and people met along the way is maintained, and our responsibility to not mess it up for those that follow is accepted.
I had the pleasure of meeting Kobus, founder and owner of Kobus se Gat. We shared our experiences of the Covid pandemic and how we had to adapt to keep life afloat while keeping our hopes for the future alive. I am impressed with the man and his family almost as much as I am with my own wife and kids. The question off-course had to be asked how he came to name his restaurant Kobus se Gat. The answer is best heard from the man himself and I will not spoil that for you.
With kit dry and stomach full of jam and cheese roosterkoek I set off for Calitzdorp. The asphalt road turned to gravel on a predominantly downhill slope with some challenging short bumps along the way. Nice countryside with an array of accommodation options, many of which on classy private game reserves. Vegetation remained lush and the path often followed a stream surrounded by paddocks with ever grazing cows. Kruisrivier is a pretty and interesting community and well worth the visit when in the area. The last 20km’s started taking its toll but was thankfully still predominantly downhill. Calitzdorp appeared on the horizon in late afternoon, and I soon made my way to the railway station to find accommodation. Cheryl had played host to many bicycle travelers and got me sorted with a camping spot in no time. 150ZAR included good Wi-Fi and very neat ablutions with hot showers. She warned me about the mosquitos and my plan to sleep without the tent was wisely aborted. The railway station has a lot of hungry mozzies, and with only four other people staying ove, the mosquitos were hungry for a meal. I met Jason who stayed over in one of the cabins. A Brit living in the Far East, he was caught in South Africa when the lockdowns started. He’s still here traveling with his wife, and the story of how he adapted his business to do it all online is inspiring. A meal was made from my last packet of instant noodles and clothes were washed before hitting the sack.
Total distance for the day 88km
Total ascent: 1600m
Time in the saddle: 0700hrs
Average speed: 13km/h
Max speed: 50km/h
Passes: Swartberg, Doringkloof, Huis se Hoogte
Poorts: Kruisrivier
Low for the day: Crazed mosquitoes
High for the day: Roosterkoek and tales of victory over the Covid pandemic
Lesson learnt for the day: No matter how you choose to ride, life behind bars is a wonderous thing.
Day07
Cape Cycle Routes “Karoo Crossing” was done and dusted. Kudos to the route designers. Not only a beautifully diverse route, but a cash injection for the local small businesses along the way by slow moving travelers.
It’s been six days on the trot. Although the distances were not that impressive, each day had a challenge that took a lot from the body. Today would thus be an easier day in the saddle. I decided to deviate from the “Cross Cape” section to Swellendam, by incorporating Seweweekspoort (roughly translated Seven weeks gorge). The original route section that included Rooiberg pass and van Wyksdorp would be circumnavigated. I messaged my Search & Rescue coordinator (wife) the new route details. She thankfully did not mock me for bailing on the tough Rooiberg pass.
I got off to a late start to allow my clothes to dry and visited Café @ the Rose for a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs. Shopping was done at the Spar right across the road, while the kind folks at the Rose looked after the bike. I was expecting an easy ride to the southern entrance of Seweweekspoort. Fortunately, I had a chat with the Roses manager that gave me a heads-up on the Huisrivier pass. As I stuffed the shopping into empty bag crevasses, we exchanged some friendly banter and had a good chuckle. He was unable to sense any deep-seated philosophical value behind the bicycling and identified only immense suffering, to the point where I almost started to question my own sanity. A young couple was about to enter the restaurant and he waved them closer, framing bike and rider with his big hands. With fatherly concern he addressed them in a serious tone: “Just be glad that you have a car”
Info gleaned from the locals tops any map or web search, and I give it top priority. The Huisrivier pass churned up some very long climbs indeed and I was thankful that I had some time to mentally prepare for the late morning suffer fest. All on a good asphalt road, so the gradients were such that no hoofing would be required. (As a rule of thumb, the gravel backroads would produce shorter but much steeper gradients) The views remained spectacular and passing motorist appeared laid back and friendly.
Just after noon I turned into Seweweekspoort. I passed Waterval eco Farmstay at the southern mouth of the poort and it looked like a nice place to relax and spend a night or two. There’s another stay halfway through the poort and then several places further past the poort. The plan was to cycle the roughly 20km to the northern entrance of the poort, and then find a spot to overnight. A water source was imperative to continue. The gravel road was in good condition and I was super exited to experience the Poort that I never visited before. Mountainpasses of South Africa describes it as: The Seweweeks Poort is probably the most beautiful 18 km stretch of gravel road anywhere in South Africa. With easy gradients, multiple river crossings, mind-boggling geology, camping and self-catering accommodation all packed into an almost perfect micro-climate, this road is an absolute joy to drive or ride, as it twists and turns through every angle of the compass, as it follows the contorted bends of the river and falls entirely under the control of Cape Nature Conservation and more specifically the Swartberg and Towerkop Nature Reserves. It is also a certified Unesco World Heritage Site.
My enthusiasm was drowned when I reached the first low-level bridge. The riverbed was completely dry. This was repeated at the second. I decided to give it one more go and pressed on in the hot afternoon. Soon enough I reached a strong stream with crystal clear water. All systems go! (On the return leg I observed water piping that probably diverted water off towards the end of the stream, which would explain the dry riverbeds) The stream also heralded a path to the right which led to the Tierkloof dam. Water was trickling over the dam wall, and after climbing the huge steps, beautiful views over the small but deep dam were enjoyed. The view from the dam wall gave me a taste of what was in stall:
Throughout the length of the poort travelers are treated to the magnificent vertical and contorted rock strata, which reflect extreme volcanic eruptions millions of years ago when the Swartberg Mountains were formed. Poorts normally exhibit small altitude variances, but this one has a height difference of 479m, which is more than many major passes in South Africa. Due to its long length of 17,7km one hardly feels the gradient changing and for cyclists, the poort is a joy to ride from north to south.
After Prince Alfred, Swartberg and Gamkaskloof passes, the south to north “uphill” felt rather flat, and I floated up the poort craning my neck in all directions. The poort offers welcome relief to those intimidated by steep drop-offs presented by passes. Here, rock formations tower around and above you, sometimes with the sensation of being trapped in a bubble. With both the iPhone and GoPro cameras I tried to capture some sense of the poort, but greater skill and better equipment are required as I was unable to do so. The Seweweeks poort simply has to be experienced firsthand.
Once again, I crossed from Klein Karoo to Central Karoo. Not long after, the poort fell away to wide open spaces and amazing views in the crisp clear late afternoon. The wind picked up and a couple of miles past the Jannie Le Roux dam, which was quite empty compared to the Tierkloof dam, I turned around and started scouting for accommodation. The road was fenced on both sides. An abandoned farmstead nestled against the hills adjacent a kloof would have made for good wind cover. The place looked spooky, and I stuck to the road.
Back into the poort, now really floating along the gradual downhill and being treated to a different perspective from the north in the setting sun. The wind died down as I crossed back into the Klein Karoo and a good camping spot presented itself. Pasta as mains followed by bread rolls with hot milk and half slab of chocolate warmed the tummy and it was off to bed. My camp was well sheltered on all sides, but a chill that I should have guesses synonymous with poort nights seeped into my no name brand tent bivy experiment. Very chilly autumn night it turned out to be.
Total distance for the day 64km
Total ascent: 1400m
Time in the saddle: 0600hrs
Average speed: 12km/h
Max speed: 62km/h
Passes: Huisrivier
Poorts: Seweweeks
Low for the day: Very chilly night
High for the day: Splendour of Seweweeks poort
Lesson learnt for the day: Keep going, things usually work out just fine.
Day08
After the relative ease (bar Huisrivier pass) of the previous day I planned to push further. Early morning was spent enjoying the rising sun painting the cliffs tops in bright hues of red. I enjoyed the previous three days of cycling in sandals, but both pedal adapters cracked, and I donned the MTB cleated shoes. At the stream leading off the Tierpoort dam I took half an hour to clean the cooking pot properly, rinse clothes and clean myself up. This is done in a foldable bucket. The soapy contents are dispersed away from the water source to avoid downstream contamination.
Seweweeks poort was departed at the southern entrance and the town of Zoar was just down the drag. A no-name spaza shop provided some snacks. Next stop Ladismith for coffee and eggs at the Post House. The kind people sponsored some ice for the Stanley mug as a hot day was expected.
The Kruip poort (translated crawling passage) rendered some good views and easy gradients, and an hour before noon I turned left to join the R323 to my target for the day, Riversdale. The signboard announced 69km. Good asphalt road on which I expected little traffic and no shops or water points. My expectations were spot-on. It was hot but a crosswind picked up to help cool the radiator. I didn’t want to even consider a headwind on this stretch of Karoo road. The roadside maintained a steady Mars surface vibe. A single roadside opportunity for shade was embrace. Helped a baby tortoise cross the road. The amazingly clear Karoo skies allowed me to see the small indent of Garcia pass in the mountain ahead from a distance of 50 kilometers.
Garcia is a beautiful pass and is the transition from Klein Karoo to the lush Outeniqualand (Garden Route). Muiskraal pass (up) led on to Garcia pass (down) The transition is almost instant as arid Karoo makes way for green fields and Pine forests. After nearly 40km of predominantly uphill through the Karoo, Garcia’s steep 11km descent in cool air with the fresh scent of Pinecones was refreshing. At the 125km mark I rolled into the pretty town.
I didn’t realize how cooked I was until I tried to jump the curb to stop and consult the phone map for sleeping arrangements. The timing was good as I pulled on the handlebar to lift the front wheel over the curb, but the powa was lacking and I tumbled straight over the handlebar. Fortunately, I was too tired to instinctively arrest the fall and enjoyed the split second of weightless delight before hitting the deck. The spectacle turned out to be a great conversation starter with two guys on their way to go tour the Transkei Wild Coast. Small world.
Dibiki holiday resort was staffed by friendly people, and at R120 for a large stand with private ablutions an absolute steal. Clean and roomy. So roomy that I slept in the bathroom. On arrival, standard patter: Phone the wife to catch up, wash clothes, air the bivy tent and sleeping bag, reassure the freaked-out neighbors. From early childhood teachers used to say I’ll become a homeless man if I failed to study. So I worked hard all my life and built up my upper middle class empire with great gusto. Only to immerse myself in the live of a traveling hobo for two weeks whenever I can. Strange world.
A short walk from the campgrounds is the Nibbling Squirrel. Tucked away next to a filling station but producing the goods big time. A double roosterkoek beef burger and salad at 60ZAR. Rum & Raisin milkshake to leave you cross eyed and begging for more. A takeaway jam and cheese roosterkoek and the next morning’s breakfast was sorted. Life is good.
Total distance for the day 125km
Total ascent: 1100m
Time in the saddle: 0630hrs
Average speed: 19km/h
Max speed: 55km/h
Passes: Muiskraal, Garcia
Poorts: Kruip
Low for the day: Unable to continue on in my Jesus approved sandals as the Devil broke my flats. Discovering that there’s no Nibbling Squirrel branch in my neighborhood back home.
High for the day: Helping a baby tortoise cross the Karoo road. Pinecone scented descent down Garcia pass.
Lesson learnt for the day: Roadside farm stalls are often closed during the week. Don’t jump curbs on a fried brain.
Day09
Today would be all the way to my Aunts farm on the other side of Swellendam. The map gradient was saw toothed with two big bumps at the 30km and 60km mark. Just outside town I turned left onto a good gravel district road. Beautiful farmlands on both sides and friendly farmers speeding by in their Hilux bakkies. I was halfway up the first big boy climb. Cool weather, pretty scenery. So pretty that I missed the Heidelberg turn-off. Backtracking to find the missed turn-off, I passed the same Jersey cows again. They were framed by Blue gum trees and a pretty dam in the background. “Remember me?” “No” “OK, well hup your poop cows”
The rock-strewn jeep track pointed straight up the hill, no contour following here. I was doing a section of the Cross Cape and once again I was impressed by their efforts to find wayward tracks. Halfway up the hill I became convinced that they consulted with Dr Evil on this one. The brass cleats once again grated over loose rock. At the top I was rewarded with clear distant views before dropping down into an eerie wattle forest. Close by a troop of baboons went apeshit but in the dense wattle forest I had no visual. Their frantic calls echoed through the forest. I expected to see a bigfoot cross the narrow path ahead at any moment. Another intersection and wider district road with some steep ups and downs had me swapping between the soft hat (hot climbs) and hard hat (sketchy downs).
More small farms and cows with pretty backdrops, until I crossed the Duiwehoks river. A bakkie was parked next to the road and a young couple was drifting on paddle boards in the small lake right next to the low-level bridge. They lived in Heidelberg and this was one of their favorite picnic spots. It was clear why. We chatted away. The day was splendid and steered the conversation to pleasant small talk. The heavy topics a million miles away. The map indicated a similar spot 6km up the drag, and after wishing each other well I ended up there for lunch. It was hot but I brewed a coffee to go with the roosterkoek that became brunch. The water was milk stout stained from either decaying vegetation, minerals or both, but remained transparent. Pesticides and chemicals are always a danger when the water flows through farmlands. Beggars can’t be choosers and I filled the bottles with milk stout not knowing when the next opportunity might arise. Not much further another beautiful stream was crossed. The map revealed that it flowed straight out the mountains of Boosmansbos (translated angry man’s forest) wilderness area and I swopped the water out in my bottles.
I passed cows in a beautiful dairy farm nestled in the small valley. The friendly farmer confirmed that I was on track towards Swellendam and I settled into a big steep climb snaking out of the valley to intercept the R322 at the top. At 60km the big climbs were behind me, the road soon turned to good asphalt and good speed was made with a refreshing tailwind. Suurbraak, a neat little settlement was the first town to be encountered since leaving Riversdale 75km further back. I supported a small shop with snack purchases to stoke the fires for the remaining stretch. The 10km section on the N2 highway had a wide shoulder allowing vehicles to pass at a safe distance. I rolled through the pretty town of Swellendam. The Leeusrivier pass delivered exceptional scenery as it rolled along the foothills of the Langeberg (translated long mountain) and bottomed out to the gate of my aunt’s place. Good company, great food and a warm soft bed in an idyllic setting made for a memorable evening.
Total distance for the day 113km
Total ascent: 1500m
Time in the saddle: 0600hrs
Average speed: 18km/h
Max speed: 57km/h
Passes: Doringkraal, Boosmansbos, Moodies, Leeuriviershoogte.
Low for the day: Lost my hat that was recovered after a 2km backtrack.
High for the day: Great scenery and meeting up with long lost family.
Lesson learnt for the day: Navigational errors can lead to pretty scenery.
Day10
Laden with farm fresh home baked goodies I set off on a late start for Bredasdorp. All asphalt rolling through low hills in the good company of the Overberg’s wide-open spaces. For the most, the road had a pretty good shoulder, and little traffic was encountered. A crosswind from the east kept things cool and the Excelsior wind farm’s turbines whirred rhythmically close by. At some stage the wind turned, and a fresh headwind slowed progress. A picnic close to the Soe river provided a break. It was pretty hot, but coffee had to be brewed to enjoy with the baked goods. Well fueled, the now gusty winds were tackled for the last 30km into Bredasdorp. Another pretty town with plentiful accommodation, good shopping and a lovely climate. It was good to meet up with an old friend and work colleague from Mesopotamia and an evening of fabulous company, food and merriment was enjoyed.
Total distance for the day 87km
Total ascent: 980m
Time in the saddle: 0430hrs
Average speed: 18km/h
Max speed: 60km/h
Passes: None!
Low for the day: A taste of the coastal headwinds.
High for the day: Yet again great scenery and meeting up with good friends.
Lesson learnt for the day: Take it easy in gusty winds.
After 875km, 13 500m climb and 31 passes it was a good idea to spend a full day off the bicycle. More than two thirds of the trips distance had already been covered. We drove down to Cape Agulhas and my plan of cycling down to the most southern tip of Africa was abandoned after observing the narrow busy road that was often frequented by partygoers. In retrospect, the route is doable via a wide backroad to the west avoiding a good chunk of the less desirable R319.
Day11
After a full day of rest, much food and plenty “recovery drinks” I backtracked out of town. Immediately after crossing the Kars river a right turn onto the gravel road to Malgas. From here it would be the return stage back to George airport sticking close to the coast on mostly gravel roads.
Some more wide-open Overberg scenery was enjoyed once the fog cleared up to reveal a beautiful day. Maize fields being ploughed, sheep, cattle and ostriches. A young ostrich kept easy pace with me on the other side of the fence as I went down a hill at 55km/h. The weather predictions were spot on. The previous day had a fresh easterly blowing all day, but today the wind picked up westerly as promised, and cross to tailwinds were enjoyed. For the most, the weather had been very kind on the trip thus far.
At 45km the first opportunity to refuel stocks was presented at the Breede river Trading Post. A well-stocked market that included freshly baked breads and pies. Grunters restaurant and watering hole was right next door and the menu looked good. After a pie and melkie it was off to Malgas where the Breede (translated wide) river would be crossed on a pont. The pont used to be hand drawn, but a generous diesel motor was fitted allowing regular quick and easy crossings. A host of accommodation options are available along the rivers edge. The wait on the western side of the river was not long and we crossed over to pick up two vehicles. No charge, no matter your form of transport.
Getting back out of the valley was a steep dusty climb to be followed by long stretches of ups and downs with mostly sheep farms in the now drier hotter climate. As I turned towards the coast on the R324, the road became progressively bumpier. The last 10km or so was a ball buster of note and I asked myself nicely not to ride there again. It was hot and the wind picked up. The small coastal town of Witsand, where I planned to overnight, was reached at 90km. The town was sleepy and after exploring a bit I headed off to the only camping grounds in town. The campground is pretty much bare with hardly any protection from the wind. When the lady at the office announced that 240ZAR would buy me a spot for the night, I was less impressed. It was double the going rate of the much nicer inland sites thus far seen. I bid her a farewell in the now late afternoon.
Wild camping near inhabited areas is not a good idea. I thus filled my bottles at Nella se Winkel and took the R322 out of town. A gradual climb but nice asphalt road on which good speed was made. 12km out of town a right turn onto a good gravel road towards the settlement of Vermaaklikheid. Pleasant ride through farmlands with a steep drop into a small valley where the pretty Duiwehoks river was crossed once again, this time close to where it flowed into the Indian Ocean. The valley exit was equally steep. Where it topped out at a crossroad I kept to the right. The sun was low and I found a lovely overnight spot that shaded my flimsy tent from the wind.
Rule number one of stealth camping is don’t get found. Rule number two is leave nothing behind, especially your litter. And as a silent thank you, remove whatever other litter you find and can carry out.
Total distance for the day 133km
Total ascent: 1300m
Time in the saddle: 0730hrs
Average speed: 17km/h
Max speed: 64km/h
Low for the day: Heavy corrugations into Witsand and the crappy campgrounds.
High for the day: Greatest distance ever on a bicycle in a single day.
Lesson learnt for the day: When the vibe is junky, just keep on peddling.
Day12
Vermaaklikheid was reached in the early morning. Pleasantly surprised by a neat little place with a traditional feel to it. Plenty accommodation options next to the Duiwehoks river. Everything was still closed and I carried on.
Still Bay was reached not long after. A fairly large coastal town split in two by the Goukou river. I spent a couple of hours exploring with accommodation in mind. The municipal campground office wasn’t manned and no one answered the phone, even though I called during office hours. I was tempted to follow the Coastal Road to Gouritsmond. I consulted with a local and they advised that the road is gated where it passes through private reserves. I left the town to the north and turned east at Melkhoutfontein. The gravel road immediately turned very corrugated and I feared for the bike staying in one piece. I consulted the map for an alternate route but none was to be found so we rattled on, the fork suspension doing its best. The GPS batteries died and I realised that I was tracking further inland than planned. The road surface however improved considerably, and as long as the wheels pointed predominately easterly I was going to carry on. The phone GPS confirmed that I was on the P1525 district road and that it would get me where I needed to be.
I was making good speed when I saw a snake crossing the road from left to right not too far ahead. Slender body, well over a metre in length with dark upper half and light green on the sides. Even from a distance the big eyes and snub head was unmistakeably that of the highly venomous Boomslang. If I slammed on the brakes I’d be unable to stop before I reached the snake. The road was wide and there was plenty room to pass behind it, so I kept to the left and added a dash of watts to the peddles. I was perhaps a tad blasé about the situation but I make a living from deciding if objects are going to remain separated, and on current headings and speeds this was a no brainer. Mr Snakes only noticed me when I was within metres. It lifted its head by only a foot or so, which was about a foot or so higher than what I felt comfortable with, and decided that it wanted to go back the way it came from. It’s chosen intercept heading put us on a perfect collision course, and the wide road suddenly became very narrow. Any further to the left would have me crashing into the ditch, and in my mind’s eye I could see the snake landing on top of me. There was time to utter only one expletive, and I chose well. The serpent was amazingly fast and agile, and whipped away to its original course, close enough for me to hear the roads loose surface being disturbed by its turn. Peace was restored.
Not long after, gravel transitioned onto asphalt, I came across a site not often seen in South Africa. At the entrance to the Butler’s farm Wolwefontein, honey were on sale via a honesty box. I turned hard to go check it out. Earlier on I deflated the tyres to help cope with the rough roads on the coast, and the sharp weighted turn on asphalt caused the tyre to burp and lose all pressure. The second crash for the trip was mediocre and I was glad that nobody witnessed it as it no doubt would have scored low. Obviously the honey sale system that relies solely on honest buyers and nil thievery works for the Butlers and it was good to experience such.
A crossroads was reached and I had the choice of turning towards Gouritsmond and visit the small coastal town as originally planned, or carry on straight towards my final destination. Attempts to find accommodation in Gouritsmond while I was in Still bay were unsuccessful, and I decided to try my luck on a more direct track towards George. I had friends in Mosselbay that I could gate-crash if all failed, albeit it would have been a very late call. Not far from the N2 highway leading into Mosselbay, the lovely farm campground of Arbeidsloon (roughly translated labours reward) was found. A good rate was negotiated on the roadside and I reached the campsite that is situated not far from the asphalt road in late afternoon. Well maintained grass stands and neat ablutions with hot showers.
Total distance for the day 122km
Total ascent: 950m
Time in the saddle: 0700hrs
Average speed: 17,5km/h
Low for the day: Last full day of the bikepacking trip.
High for the day: Not becoming snake food.
Lesson learnt for the day: Cheap spaza shop GPS batteries area crap.
Day13
The trip was essentially over. All that was left was the short hop to my friends in Mosselbay.
Once again however the weather forecast was accurate, and I had a 20 to 30km/h headwind all the way on the 25km into town. I again realized how fortunate I was with the good autumn weather throughout the trip. I had built in a buffer day for delays that could have resulted from poor weather, mechanical or other issues. I was however well ahead of schedule thanks to all running smoothly and less distance covered due for instance cancellation of the Cape Agulhas leg. I could have done some day trips on the lovely Garden Route but missed my family and wanted to get back to Snor City.
In Mosselbay I was treated with a lovely braai overlooking the vast ocean, many recovery drinks and splendid hospitality of friends not seen in many years. My hosts dropped me off at the airport the following afternoon for an uneventful flight back home.
Being a local trip, I don’t even have to say it was a once in a lifetime experience, as I’ll easily retrace my steps to once again savor the Karoo and Garden routes’ spectacular offerings. Massively blessed and fortunate to have been able to do this route at least once. The area however has a lifetime of bikepacking opportunities, and I look forward to more adventures in the region.
Some stats for the 12 full days spent in the saddle (Day 1 and 13 I counted as half days and I also excluded the full rest day)
Total distance 1155km
Total ascent 16000m
Total passes and poorts 31
Total satisfaction 110%
SOME BACKGROUND INFO
This would be my first 1000km+ bikepacking tour in South Africa. Ride style would be solo self-supported. (Click here for ride style versions)
The Cape Cycle Routes published by Cape Tourism was a great springboard and the high-quality maps and GPS tracks they provided free of charge was all that was needed to choose the Western Cape as my destination.
Planned Route
The plan was to cover the 1200km in about two weeks. Plenty time to get the distance done, allow for some side explorations and eventualities such as poor weather or mechanical (bike and body) issues.
Trip commenced at George Airport where I would fly into. The Seven Passes road would get the legs loose and deliver me to the start of Cape Cycle Routes “Karoo Crossing” at Knysna. The plan was to complete the Karoo Crossing stock standard, with the option of including Gamkaskloof or “The Hell” if time and legs allowed.
The Karoo crossing would end at Calitzdorp. From Calitzdorp I wanted to follow a section of the Cross Cape, but also wanted to incorporate Seweweekspoort somehow. (Seweweekspoort does not feature on the Cape Cycle Routes). End of the day, I needed to get to Swellendam to visit with family. From Swellendam it would be shortest route to Cape Agulhas, then backtrack to Bredasdorp where I’d stay with friends. Coastwise via district gravel roads back to George from there would wrap up the adventure.
Time management was pretty stress free, as I had the option of extending or shortening the tour. (Should a tighter schedule be required, the route could be broken up as needed) My setup was self-supported, and at the cost of some extra weight and setup time, I’d be able to overnight most anywhere.
Gear configuration
My GT Zaskar 29r hardtail MTB was the chosen workhorse. Bicycle choice was based on the bike at hand method. And this was the bike at hand. Some homemade alterations would pimp it out to carry the needed.
This would be a self-sufficient ride in terms of accommodation and food preparation. The only on-route resupply would be for food and water, the rest would be carried with. The stalwart of bags would consist of an Apidura set of handlebar bag, handlebar accessory bag, feed bag, frame bag and saddle bag. These proved themselves on a previous trip in the south of Turkey. Local brands, such as TEXREX, now provide similar quality and design at very competitive pricing.
It was decided not to carry a backpack on this round, and to include a light duty sleeping bag. On the Turkey trip I only used a small liner and emergency backup blanket, but I expected more chilly conditions this time round. Additional space would thus have to be created somehow. No matter how conservatively I packed, the sleeping bag wouldn’t fit in a dry area. (Both my sleeping bag and sleeping mat are conventional old school models that is considerably bulkier than the modern-day ultra-lights) I considered ditching the small tent and tarp-camp only. Keeping the small bivy tent onboard however proved a good decision even if it was only to keep the mosquitoes at bay.
I also considered to put the ExtraWheel trailer to use that was used on my first proper bike tour in Eastern Europe. The trailers might not be the current flavor, but they serve a purpose under the right circumstances. It was decided that this weren’t those circumstances, and I built a rear pannier rack to carry the two Ortlieb bags. The sleeping bag fitted beautifully, and an abundance of additional storage space was created, be it at the cost of weight. The mind immediately wandered on what lovely luxurious could fill the space, but the thought of lugging it up the many mountain passes called for sanity. Eventually the rear rack idea was abolished, and two lighter fork racks that worked perfectly with an existing dry bag for the sleeping mat and bag were home fashioned out of mild steel. Such is the fun of kitting out for a new adventure where your inventory of gear is customized by mixing, matching and adjusting to best suit the journey.
Weight remains the number one consideration when gearing up, especially for a trip where mountain passes will be in abundance. A juggle between weight and self-supported essentials remains an interesting one, especially when you tend to carry older heavier gear. At the final stages of preparation, I devised the perfect packing list formula. It goes something like this: All desirable kit is laid out on a table. Go ride the most serious hills you can find with your regular (unladen) bike. Immediately on return, go stand in front of your gear table and imagine the ride with all this stuff included. It turned out to be a sure way of weeding out unneeded items. End of the day, everything fitted well. I allowed myself to pick a single luxury “unneeded” item. My Stanley trigger action 470ml flask is hellishly heavy when compared to a plastic water bottle but remained the choice. An old climbing chalk bag proved to be the perfect handlebar holder for the flask that keeps fluids cold during the hottest of days.
Further mods included fitting additional water bottle racks to the bike frame. For this I fitted rivnuts or used simple waterpipe clamps. One of the bottle racks would carry the multifuel stove’s bottle. Last minute sanity prevailed, and I swopped the heavier and bulkier (albeit much cooler to use) multi-fuel burner for a simple gas burner. With the fuel cannister kicked out, there was now room for five water bottles. Wild camping away from water sources require not only enough water for the day, but also for cooking (and cleaning) and hydrating throughout the night.
The standard MTB bar was swopped out for a Mohican handlebar that I bought some years ago from www.cycletouring.co.za. The bar was home modified to allow front bag attachment points that would keep handlebar bags clear of brake and gear cables.
Bike serviceability was a bit iffy but expecting gnarly long descents had me at least bleed the brakes and fitting new pads. I remember promising the bike a proper service at the end of the Turkey trip, but with the home advantage on this trip it was decided not to scratch where it didn’t itch too much. An extensive toolkit and basic spares, such as sealant, inner tubes, derailleur wheels and spare brake pads were however packed. In retrospect, a full bike service is recommended beforehand. A “home advantage” in the middle of the Karoo isn’t worth much.
With my bike box still on covid holiday in the Middle East I purchased a cardboard box from BoxesOnline . At 120ZAR including a roll of tape not a bad deal. Effort was applied to make the flimsy cardboard box as bombproof as possible to survive baggage handling finesse for two flights. The rear derailleur was removed and strapped to the frame, pedals, handlebar and wheels removed etc. There was ample space left for the bikepacking kit, with the more valuable items carried as hand luggage. This also ensured that the box remained below the 32kg limit for checked luggage. Industrial clingwrap served to keep the box tight and semi waterproof. This helped a lot as it was rained on both in George and OR Tambo while being loaded. Kulula.com has a hassle free oversized / sporting equipment baggage policy and at and additional 330ZAR the bike was accommodated on the B738 from OR Tambo to George airport. (On the return flight no charge was levied for the bike box)
Navigation, photos & Video
Navigation consisted of some paper maps and a Garmin Etrex-30 GPS. The iPhone had nav apps loaded that functioned without cell signal. (Contrary to some belief, a phones GPS does not need data or cell signal to function, but only certain apps will interface directly with the GPS) The phone remained a nav backup only as its battery would have to be preserved to the max. Charging points on route would be limited and I only carried an old battery bank that was good for a charge and a half. Piccie taking would be taken care of by the iPhone and a GoPro Hero3.
Is bikepacking really for you?
Looking at some of the published routes and their terrain profiles might make you feel that it is too tough or too long or you don’t have what it takes to endure some of the harder sections and still keep trucking the next day. Some basic planning will allow you to plot a customized route or choose an existing one that will suit your abilities. Even tough routes can be broken down into stages or simply done at a slower pace.
Touring is a journey, not a race, and the slower the pace the more immersive the experience. Bicycle touring can be enjoyed by anyone that is relatively fit and healthy. Most days will challenge you many times over, but you will be also be rewarded time and again. A chain reaction of challenges and rewards will fuel your progress and the memories will be cherished for many years to come. Bicycle touring might, at times, be hard and uncomfortable, but it should always remain stress free. I sincerely hope that this will provide some guidance to enjoy a stress-free trip in any of South Africa’s prime locations.
Cape Cycle Routes’ “Karoo Crossing” as a case study.
The Karoo crossing is advertised as 358km, 7212m ascent, 4-6 day, 8/10 difficulty rating.
I did the Karoo Crossing in four days, solo self-supported. Given that I wasn’t really fit and had the extra challenge of a 35kg bike having to factor in time for camping, clothes washing, food source and prep, beer drinking etc, then the route can be done by even the most average cyclist. Especially if supported to some extent.
The route lends itself to be done in a supported configuration as ample accommodation is available for rider and support crew. With a host of other attractions available, it can even be done as part of a family holiday.
The difficulty rating is accurate but needs to be read in context. There are no technical sections such as gnarly single track. The public gravel roads might be sketchy and require experience in basic brake control, such as to keep over eager fingers off the front brakes on steep downhill turns.
Some climbs are long, the mountains can throw four seasons at you in a single afternoon and the Karoo hot lands must never be underestimated. The rating might thus be more applicable towards conditioning and preparedness than physical fitness and technical riding skills, especially if the route will be done solo unsupported/self-supported.
The lack of water points and basic shopping opportunities and poor cellular reception on many long stretches can come as a more than inconvenient surprise.
Staying hydrated, maintaining nutritional status and appropriate pace will allow you to cycle for days on end without fading out.
Coping with exposure will require you to rely on altering strategy, not only for the sake of basic survival, but to enjoy the journey no matter the conditions.
No biggies, but preparedness is way more vital than physical fitness in my opinion. The carefree promotional video on the Cape Cycle Routes website and especially the soundtrack, makes it look like a quick walk in the park, which it is not.
All said, the Trans Karoo is absolutely doable at your own pace and should be right up there on your bucket list. South Africa might be known as a world in one country, but this route proved to be a world in 358 spectacular kilometers.
Ride Style: Supported vs Unsupported vs Self-sufficient
One should not get obsessed by “the rules”, but some definitions do help to illustrate the style in which a route is done. Many configurations exist, but after some web searching, I decided to stick to the following basic categories:
Supported means you have a dedicated support team that meets you along the way to supply whatever you need. This generally allows for the fastest, lightest trips, and for an element of camaraderie and safety, since someone knows about where you are at all times. A support vehicle is a good example.
Self-supported means that you don’t carry everything you need from the start, but you don’t have dedicated, prearranged people helping you, or use a support vehicle. This is commonly done a couple different ways: You might put out stashes of supplies for yourself prior to the trip, or you might just use what’s out there, such as shops and B&B’s.
Unsupported means you have no external support of any kind. Typically, this means that you must carry all your supplies right from the start, except perhaps any water or food that can be obtained along the way from natural sources.
Solo prefacing Self-supported or Unsupported ads a degree of difficulty as there is no option to share for instance tools, cooking utensils, helping each other etc.
So obviously the style you travel in will have a huge impact on the journey. Each also has its own benefits and advantages over the other depending on the scenario, especially when you throw in the bike setup factor... Which brings us to the difference between bike touring and bikepacking. Click HERE for a good article to explain the difference.
Which leads to a good question. Is it considered bikepacking / touring if you make use of a support vehicle? Personally, the whole idea of bikepacking / touring is to be self-sufficient. “Living off the land” without the advantage of immediate organized assistance but having to make those arrangements yourself. “Living off the land” depends on the scenario, but can include anything at your disposal, be it sourcing natural water from a spring or buying it at a shop along the way. This might lead to heated debate and many different interpretations and opinions. My personal opinion has changed over the years. In the past I’d plan for an un-supported segment of a tour. When I came along an unexpected chance to obtain food in a conventional manner, I’d be a bit disappointed at the opportunity. Which really is a bit silly. These days I use whatever presents itself along the way. I might have planned to wild camp for example, but if someone offers accommodation for free or next to nothing, why not? These unplanned for encounters usually go hand in hand with experiencing new people and creating great memories.
So, Can you still call it bikepacking / touring if you have a support vehicle in tow? Personally, I’d say you’d be stupid to make yourself carry extra weight on the bike if you have a vehicle that can be used for it. And nothing looks sillier (once again my opinion) than a bikepacker with all the kit, closely followed by a support vehicle. So, if I decide to do for instance the Karoo Crossing with a support vehicle in tow, can I still call it bikepacking / touring? My answer would be, who cares? Call it what you want and celebrate the luxuries that the vehicle provides and enjoy the cycling experience on a lighter and nimbler bike.
The question most often asked is “How far did you ride today?” The distance covered during a day remains a hugely relative issue. 150km might sound more impressive than 70km, but depending on the touring style (and measure of support), the 70km might just turn out to be the bigger accomplishment. Perhaps the measure of achievement should rather be as to who had the most satisfying experience in their own right.