(21 APRIL 2018) a.k.a. Middelburg Mud Pie eating contest
Toe pluk ons ‘n kleilat vir ons eie gat…
(Barbara opened this can of worms, now we had to lie in it)
Hare scramble is a form of off-road motorcycle racing that varies in distance and time, with the riders completing multiple laps around a marked course through fields or other rugged natural terrain. The Farm Jam series is a friendly race for anybody that wants to give it a shot (without being shot). No license needed, but a certificate that declares you mentally unstable should be carried on your person at all times…
One of these two takes racing extremely seriously and the other one doesn’t understand the fine print.
We entered the Adventure Bike class: ONE bike, TWO chickens, FOUR nannas!
We were frowned upon… but there were no objections, mainly because the rulebook had been a little vague about this sort of thing.
A fresh introduction to the Dearest Dairy:
The 2017 701’s are breathtakingly white, so Chikita’s Husky was #blessed with the name MELK.
(There was a tremendous lactose of cheesier suggestions on name day, okay!)
At least the cows are laughing.
“Is the Milk still fresh?”
Tong tippie toets vir ons, Kiri…
Rider’s Briefs and Big Girl Panties UNITE!
Some very welcome tips were imparted to first-timers but no remedies for self-inflicted suffering.
RIAAN kalKOEN goes cobble(r)cobble(r)cobble(r)…
Broods of chickens crossing these roads – ladies class was jam-packed!
(Boere Soek Vroue, so they came a’flockin’!)
“You are doing this race… two-up… on THAT?!?” Lodewyk sounded sceptical…
We’re slowly but surely winning everyone’s hearts by making a circus of everything.
Life truly is the greatest spectacle on earth.
Birds of a feather flap elbows together for the most exquisitely choreographed chicken dance ever <3
Skinny winds up her chatter teeth… For the entire duration of (especially) the first lap, the enormous responsibility of ear-splitting navigation lies with the co-pilot.
Chikita cracks a little smile, because she’s sitting in the ‘driver’ seat…
Race Barbie (Barbara Muszynski) looking all smug being the Number One girl in the ‘Landbouskool’ class.
In the Vapers Corner: Spinning and smoke tricks
In the hoekie for Big Singles: Just plain spinning
“What the hell is going on here???” It’s wonderful, that’s what it is!
Lost a valuable minute stopping to disengage ABS… (Anti-Bull-Sh1t) This kind of race is all about the bull-sh1t! They even pave the roads with it!
One of the marshals wheeeeeeeling past…
…to show us the secret shortcut.
The scenery’s great and the cast is superb but we’re still figuring out the plot acres.
At this point you might wonder, why are we not each just riding our own bike? Well the honest truth is because that’s just too damn common. Legend has it that no-one’s ever competed in this race as a two-man tandem team. …plus, we’re way sillier than you can ever imagine.
♫♪ Old Chikita had a bike E I E I O ♪♫
And on that bike she had a pillion E I E I O
With a selfie here and a headbutt there
Here a “help!” there a “whoa!”
Everybody – Let’s Go!
Old Chikita loved that bike E I E I O
“Hey, that’s my jam!” – Chikita
In the Adventure class, ours was the only bike with PROPER dualsport tires. So, we soon found ourselves in a bit of a jam…
Or perhaps it was more like Nutella, but in the sandwich-spread category nonetheless.
The two of us looking dead ahead while the Titanic quietly goes down…
You can make up your own mind about what our actual facial expressions looked like, but a few options include:
>.< ^.^ 0.o –.– x.x +.+
Dark chocolate fudge, if I’m thorough. Toe-to-toe with a farm hoe.
When you stop to notice the little things in life… “Are those popcorn kernels???”
Well, we were racing amongst corn rows and pig sties…
Anything’s possible! It’s a free-range country!
Ladies and Ladies, this is your captain speaking, please return your vehicle to the upright position…
…and switch all passengers back “ON”.
We passed a bird hanging on a wire. It was Barbara that did a summersault into a fence and got a bietjie stuck!
But like a tractor on autopilot, Barbara chugged past us after her selfde-FENCE routine just moments earlier. When you’re that quick, there’s always time for extracurricular activities.
We took it very easy through the soft earth and never overtook a damn soul ever again.
Deon recommended full-taps, but we weren’t about to ruin our mascara.
“Can I spoil you ladies with a beer?”
“Not now dude – we’re trying to win a race here!”
Look how far we’ve come! (It was only about 10km… for all you Fitbit enthusiasts)
Rock climbing with a smiley face.
Skinny pretended to help with a little push from behind.
You get some awkward angles when the Hollywood stunt biker becomes the paparazzi pillion…
Swamps of nastiness attacked in small armies. But we kept calm and made Chikita’s clutch hand take one for the team.
And a sarcastic glance escapes from the backseat…
We decided to play it safe, so Melk was skommel’ed through the river crossing on foot.
Acting so damn responsible sickens me.
Some of these guys earned major respect from us… But know this: With chunkier tires we’d eat them for breakfast. Tomorrow. Because we already ate this morning…
I don’t think she’s ever missed her road biking days as much as here in this picture!
Wishing hard that Brom was there… No, actually, make that an UberBlack – do you take VISA?
Meanwhile, back on planet earth…
It’s behind me isn’t it…??? Mud strikes have evolved into airborne micro-missiles.
We found a wizard casting evil spells. Or it might have just been a regular guy whose riding buddy got swallowed by quicksand. Either way, we didn’t have our toolkit, and the race wasn’t going to win itself.
The Airtime Actuator (for 99% of the competitors that were conveniently NOT carrying 55kg of pink squish on the back)
Farm style caramel toffee pudding.
What you’re about to see next – is the exact moment in Chikita’s life when her hearing loss set in.
Sand; no matter how little of it; kicks the volume up to ELEVEN. Chikita was threatened several times, cried at, and on a very conscious level – wished dead.
We took a little break and seriously contemplated pitching a tent and starting the braai fire.
…but Skinny quickly realised we didn’t pack any moonshine so. Hey Ho!
A lot of the guys clearly had super full bladders, shame. There were no porta-potties on the route. So, we let them pass.
Racing’s racing, but we’re not monsters! And all that water didn’t help…
A visual representation of Darryl’s Doppler Effect.
What the Navigator meant to say:
Right 5 over crest, Left 3 don’t cut, 100 Right 1 tidy into Left 2, 300 double caution jump, left 2 over kick into right 3 tightens.
What the Navigator really said:
Hier kom ‘n ou! Hier kom nog ‘n ou! Hier kom nou ‘n [email protected] vol ouens!
Michael gooi mielies laat hulle 2m hoog staan!
PRO’s AND CON’s OF RACING TWO-UP:
You always have very vocal feedback about what the bike’s doing at the back exactly. You’re informed instantly when the rear foot pegs disappear. You can do singalongs and also have intense, on-the-fly interviews about what, as a woman, made you get into riding. You always have someone soft to land on when you fall. The blame for forgetting the moonshine can go to the other person. You have two bonus legs to help paddle through really deep organic stuff. There’s basically a pair of eyes in the back of your head (vir agteruit boer, indien nodig). The mud roost lands on someone else’s back. The moaning can get a bit much, but complete silence is actually more terrifying. You can lose at least one soldier and the tank will still reach its destination. Counter-steering is not an option… EVER!
We’d already been slingin’ mud for daaaayyyys when even MOAR mucky marshes appeared out of nowhere!
Sometimes they even combined the slippery sludge with rocks. This offended me.
“Heeeelp… Ek wil huis toe gaan…”
“Hoekom Tannie, is dere something wrong with your baaik? We can rekover it for you. Are the Tannies still gonna rys???”
“Just tick our damn helmets! Of course we’re going to complete the race!!!”
Chikita, “I’d never before noticed how ginormous her angry-eyes are!”
Half our team enjoys whoops and jumps. The other half does not.
And now, we interrupt your recreational mud programme with this vertical rock face.
Followed by a dark chocolate delicacy for afters.
Morass? MORE GAS!
Guys were still racing for the loo. They were so critically focussed that they didn’t even notice the GIANT BOG ROLL!!
Reggae rhythms of squelch, gurgle and splat – Oh, we jammin’ alright.
Going against the current to help combat erosion was just our little contribution for the day. You’re welcome, Mr. Agriculture.
What?!? I thought YOU packed the teapot and biscuits!!! Some adventure ride this turned out to be… Pfff!
After one last short and sweet little obstacle course (…like that was really necessary *insert rolly-eyes here*), the cows came home.
We were happy to be back in the pits. These were the pits. And the pit people. Pit people are the best.
Melk’s not the only one whose dungarees smelled a little sour…
After churning butter all day, it was finally T-time.
Back at the ranch, the results were in! We took fifth spot (…AND fifth-and-a-halfth spot) out of six in the Adventure Bike class.
Double-up = Double-time!
We completed one whole lap AND had some jam on it! We won the first ever ‘Breakfast-Run’ class. In all the years that this type of racing has been hosted, nobody has ever dared try it with a pillion. Our reward was a fresh pair of gloves – DANK!
Kevin and Johan LOL’ing at something totally lame, like “Who came first?”
The sweet, sweet jam award in the centre of that farm-fresh donut
Plaaskonfyt-Plaaskonfyt, straight uit die malhuis uit!
The obvious choice as driver for this race was Chikita. The skill, endurance and patience she applied was the only reason why we made it home. This placed me, Skinny, in the pillion seat having to dig deep into my ‘trust’ pockets…
The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.