By 1 p.m. Don and I had solids in our body, and were gingerly sipping steaming cups of sweet tea. Both of Don's BMW's were parked outside - Etienne Posthumus had ridden the R80G/S over from Johannesburg, and Don had brought over the F650. Don, Etienne and I had met on the Internet "GS List" about 18 moths earlier, and developed a great on-line friendship. This had been cemented by our third meeting "IRL", and the circle of "like-biked" friends had grown to include G/S-purist, Hartmut von der Ohe and a number of aspirant BMW (motorcycle) owners.

Hartmut had slinked home with the birds twittering in the trees, and Don and I felt that he had had more than enough sleep....it was time to ride! Don had kindly offered me the use of his R80G/S, fondly called "The Dog" (see Don's web-site for an explanation). The aluminium hound started effortlessly. By 1:45 am we were in Hartmut's driveway, and I saved his location as a waypoint on my Garmin GPS-III. If ever you need to do emergency repairs to your motorcycle in Pretoria, feel free to visit Hartmut's well equipped workshop in the eastern suburbs. He also has a WELL stocked fridge ;-))

Hartmut surprised us - he was vertical, and the G/S was ready in the driveway! Originally we had planned to head out towards Hartebeespoort Dam, but in our condition, the tranquil red-dirt-roads of eastern Pretoria seemed quieter and more appealing. After tanking up in Murrayfield, Hartmut took the lead taking us through The Willows and past Custom Worx - the Pretoria Harley mecca. There was no way that they would ever be able to go where we were going today!

The initial stretch took us down Lynnwood Road (M6) and through Wapadrand. Personally I was amazed at the development that had taken place in eastern Pretoria in the three years that I've been out of South Africa. Back in the 70's this was the wild, red-dust outback where we used to come and race our 50cc's, learn to smoke, visit shebeens and drink warm Kronenbräu 1308. Nothing's really changed has it? ;-))

The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the scattered cotton-wool thunder clouds promised the usual "civil servant's shower" at about 4:30 p.m. The riding was good, and The Dog was in her element. Born in 1983, the old bitch is now as comfortable as an old veldskoen, and lapped up the road. With all the "sharp edges" long worn smooth, she is in steep contrast to my 1997 R80GS "Pragahari" (currently hibernating in the icy winter-land of the Czech Republic) - with only 7,000 km on the clock she still has a clunky gearbox, stiff joints and gear shift, and a hard seat. I love her now, but am really looking forward to the day that she's as loose as "The Dog".

At the Onbekend-Boschkop split we headed into the "unknown". We rode out past the Pretoria Radio Flyers, the aero-modelling club where I spent endless weekend of my childhood flying radio-controlled gliders with my late father...and where I first rode a motorcycle. Back in 1973 the PRF had a Honda "Mini Trail" that we used to retrieve the parachute and tow line used to winch RC gliders into the air. The memories of charging through the bush on the little Honda came flooding back, and the origin of my passion for motorcycles and unpaved surfaces became crystal clear. With the warm African wind filling the open visor of my old Nava, I had the scent of Africa in my nostrils, and that almost forgotten sense of freedom blowing through my hair. The hangover was lifting, and it felt good to be home.

A few kilometres past the flying club Hartmut turned right and onto the Zwavelpoort road. The unique red dust of Gauteng rooster-tailed from our back wheels as we careered down the first dirt road of our ride. The Dog's Michelins bit in, and I felt wonderfully secure. This was going to be fun! A few turns and up the other side of a dip, and Hartmut indicated that we should follow him down a turn-off to the right. A kilometre further and we slowed down to view the object of Hartmut's attention - a new farm and a series of recently established vineyards. Knowing my passion for wine, Hartmut had apparently led us to the source of the pleasure. Unfortunately I think that they were table grapes, as each ripening bunch was protected from birds, the element and other pests by its own protective plastic bag.

We moved on, and the road became....less distinct! We spotted a track to the left, heading generally in a southerly direction - it was rougher than the road we were currently riding, and without hesitation we headed south! If we had been looking for a really rough road, we had found it. Rock, dust, gravel, sand, water, ruts and mud......Yeeeee-Haaaaa!!!! The torque of the inimitable R80 came into it's own on this stretch, effortlessly powering me through patches of loose stone and mud. We were off our saddles now, reaching the bottom of a small depression, and carving our way up the other side. A kilometre further we reached a T-junction at the back of the new Mooikloof security village, and took a short break, enthusiastically sharing the experiences of the day so far. The harmonious balance between blue sky, dramatic cloud and red soil compelled me to pull out my camera and shoot a few pictures.

We turned right into a wide and recently graded dirt road - a nice high speed section which eventually turned into asphalt, and the Atterbury Road. At the Hans Strydom 4-way stop we turned left, and circumnavigated the fortified Mooikloof complex. We hit the tarred Garsfontein Road (M30), turning eastward and away from Pretoria. About five kilometres down the road I had another flashback to the 70's when we passed the complex that we used to call Mooikloof. What is going to become a new and exclusive golf estate was in my day the best piece of dirt track in the Pretoria area. My biking buddies and I used to make the trek out there on our TS-50's, MR-50's, TY-50's, RM-125's, XL-125's, a lone Montessa Cota 250 and an old Triumph Tiger Cub. The rucksacks were always full of beer, and sprawls in the dirt were par for the course as we honed our under-developed off-road skills. God, those were carefree days!

My old high school friend Mark Barker was an important part of those carefree times. Not only were he and I part of the Mooikloof off-road crowd, but we were also members of a willing group of hormone-charged matriculants that became infamous for the weekend orgies we arranged in the bush fairly close to the Mooikloof track. As we rode through the Mooikloof dip I vividly recalled the site of our adventures - a tranquil spot next to a pond in a copse off to our right. I wouldn't be surprised if there were condom trees growing there now! A short distance before this particular spot we had ridden past the (relatively new) Pretoria East Cemetery. Mark Barker, SAA First Officer and former SAAF fighter pilot, was laid to rest here a few weeks earlier. He and an SAA colleague tragically died after their Pitts Special crashed in Pretoria East on the 17th of November. Twenty years earlier we would never have dreamed that one of us would be dead and buried close to the spot that brought us all so much pleasure. Apparently there were a lot of women at Mark's funeral - he was a popular guy. I could not bring myself to stop at the cemetery, swallowed the lump in my throat, and rode on.

Out in the Styx we turned north onto an unmarked, but inviting dirt road. A fast but challenging track took us up a hill and into a wattle bush, where we found what we had been looking for - lots of water! Photo opportunity! The joy of motorcycling was apparent on our faces as we ploughed through the large mud puddles again and again! Don't tell anyone that there was another clearly defined (and mud-free) track around the puddles ;-))

Aaaahh!! Great fun! The mud had been the final hangover cure we needed, and we charged on enthusiastically. I started recognising the environment, and moved into the "wingman" position behind and to the right of Hartmut. We once again turned eastward on a relatively dusty section of yellow dirt road that I immediately identified as the Tiegerpoort Road past Espada Ranch.

In recent years I had presented courses there...but in the distant past of the early 80's it belonged to the parents of my mate Harry Watson. Yes yes, we certainly put the sauna and massage parlour to good use back then ;-))). A few k's further, the road started turning northwards, and we took a quick breather at another spot we used to frequent in the 70's and 80's, namely "N'kwe".

For those of you that haven't been there, N'kwe is where the Pienaars River meets a series of cliffs, cascading into deep pools that are just perfect for swimming. My first ever visit to N'kwe was in the 60's with my friend Piers Relly's geologist father, Bruce. But for me the place eventually came into it's own in the 70's and 80's after I had discovered motorcycles and girls!!! Jeez, I must be sounding depraved by now!

At the next t-junction we turned right, and back onto the Lynnwood Road extension (M6). I know this part of the world well, and took Don and Hartmut left and onto the Boschkop road. After about 500 metres this unpaved road dips to the right, crosses the Pienaars River, and rises steeply into a blind left turn. We took this turn slowly and with some caution as this is the spot where my friend Gary Draper died on his KTM. An accomplished Moto-X and enduro rider, Gary was out practising with Peter Kohler and Anton Marais when he tragically ploughed into the front of a bus back in April 1990. There was no traffic today, and we pushed on.

The terrain flattened, and the kilometres flashed by at high speed. At the next junction I led the others to the right, and headed towards Rayton. Some distance further we turned west and onto the clearly sign-posted Donkerhoek road. I had explored this road with my mate Gerhard Schröder 6 months back during my last visit to SA, and showed the others a really tight track through the farms. One spot that I specifically remembered from my last visit here was a farmer who had displayed all kinds of iron-work in his yard....including a red telephone booth at his gate! Back on to the primary dirt road we made good time to the bridge crossing the M4 Witbank/Maputo Corridor highway. We were disappointed to find the typically African farm supplies store closed as we had hoped to stop there to soak up the ambience, and have a cold drink.

Undaunted, we turned right and on to the old Pretoria road (R104), and headed for Bronkhorstspruit. On the left were the sandpits where my father and I used to go shooting in the late 70's, and just a little further the (now fairly rundown and renamed) Avendson Hotel. It was to this gaudily painted building that generations of lustful Pretoria businessmen brought their paramours, living out their erotic fantasies in countless dirty weekends. Sad - it looks like all other shebeens now. Just after the hotel we turned right and back into the dirt. More memories - this was where André Smith, Débra Childs (my future wife) and I came in 1988 to photograph the spectacle of the AWB physically pulling an ox-wagon from Cape Town to Donkerhoek in commemoration of the 150th anniversary of the "Great Trek"! As Janie Allen knelt at the feet of Eugene Terreblanche, we cranked up the Bob Marley tape in Andre's Nissan Skyline, and made quick our escape!!

This stretch of road was wide, but quite rocky. We shot past the Grunwald farm on the left and a few kilometres further dipped down to the left and then rose steeply into one of the fastest right hand turns of the ride. Exhilarating stuff! With Diamond Hill on our left we slowed down and rode up the small track to the cemetery maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission (CWGC). This interesting site (S025°48'21.5" E028°;29'23.5") is the last resting-place of the troops of the empire who routed the Boers from Pretoria in the battle of Diamond Hill at the end of the Anglo-Boer War back in 1901.

Louis Botha and his men were positioned on the high ground of the ridge, while the artillery and foot soldiers of the empire (under the command of Pole-Carrew, if I remember correctly) overwhelmed them from the west. Unfortunately vandals have destroyed the good diorama that explained this last battle of the war very clearly. A similar thing happened some years ago when the graves themselves were desecrated by sophisticated right-wing "revellers" during one of the regular "saam-treks" in this part of the world. Thanks to the efforts of Janice Farquharson and the CWGC, the site was restored, and is currently in a fairly good condition.

We continued on to the town of Cullinan and the Premier Mine - the site of the discovery of the world's largest lump of compressed coal, the Cullinan Diamond. Hartmut led us to a spot that he had discovered and that afforded us an excellent view of the huge mine pit.

We then took a spin through the Jacaranda lined "old town" of Cullinan. Very quaint. This must be one of the few places left in South Africa where every house has a "stoep" tastefully decorated with three cheap imitation Layzee-Boy recliners and a small side-table! That sounds like the life to me ;-)). On our way out of the town we spotted a lapa in construction on the rim of the Cullinan pit, and stopped to take a look. Once finished, this will make a great observation deck; it's just a pity that they couldn't build it closer to the edge of the hole. Don's helmet provided a splash of colour in this picture taken from the lapa.

The R513 took us from Cullinan and westwards towards Roodeplaat Dam and the N1 highway. Hartmut led us under the super-slab and onwards to one of the new monstrosities that has sprung up around Pretoria in the years that I've been out of the country. The "Zambesi Water Front" is in Montana, on Zambesi Drive. It combines the ubiquitous water-feature with the cheap and nasty....chain food, Taiwanese car accessories, home made pottery, boere baroque, biltong stands, candy-floss, doilies and no-name brand Levi wannabes. The kids were playing in the fountain, and people were enjoying the two-seater catapult bungi ride while I wolfed down my first ice cold cream soda in three years. Now, if they sold Hiers Root Beer here, that would really make it special!

We headed back to the N1 but elected to take the back roads through the "scenic" railway-siding of Koedoespoort, over the Silverton hill and back to my mother's place in Lynnwood Manor. The beers were cold, and we were dirty but content! Although we covered only 145 km on our afternoon sojourn, it had been a ride of attrition. The F650's indicators were suffering from a serious case of anhedral and were drooping at a forlorn angle (following Don's close encounter with a pensioner in a Skyline the previous week). The rear indicator's on Hartmut's G/S had ceased to function, as had the tail-light. On "The Dog" the mounting bracket for the rev-counter, speedometer and clock had decided to unilaterally declare independence and split into three distinct pieces! Lengths of string now prevented the instruments and front indicators from flailing too wildly in the wind!

The afternoon ride on December 20 was without a doubt one of the highlights of my two weeks in Africa. As a solo rider in the Czech Republic I had almost forgotten about the camaraderie of motorcycling. It felt good to share the road with like-minded brothers. The Internet is a powerful tool - without it Hartmut and I would never have met Donald Massyn, and my day with The Dog would not have happened. Don, thanks for giving me the custody of your "brak" for two weeks. She enriched my stay in South Africa no-end. You and I certainly had great fun in the mud at Bronkhorstbaai, and Hartmut and I had a magical tour through the tourist sites of Pretoria between 1 a.m. and 3 a.m. one fine night! But those stories will have to wait until I next have free time to commit them to paper!

I will not forget the fun we had over the Festive Season!