One of biking’s greatest pleasures is riding an unfamiliar road for the first time. There’s a unique thrill in setting off on a journey of exploration. The anticipation of what lies around the next corner or over the next hill fuels our wanderlust. Every ride is a blank canvas which we paint with the vivid colours of challenging roads, breathtaking panoramas, quaint places, unexpected adventures and friendly people.

I’ve ridden to Eswatini, Quondam Swaziland, dozens of times, almost always to jol at the outrageously excellent Swazi Rally. But I’ve never spent quality time discovering the country. I called my mate Carlos Paiva who hosts the Swazi Rally and asked him to be my guide for a few days. Carlos was keen and we arranged to meet in Piggs Peak at 11:00 on Tuesday morning.

My ride for the trip was a sparkling new BMW R1250GS Trophy with 1700km on the odometer. I left home in Nelspruit at 09:00 on a glorious sunny day meant for riding. I rode at speed to Barberton revelling in the Trophy’s agility over Hilltop Pass and through the flatstick sweepers in the valley of the Kaap River. From Barberton, it was 40km of exhilarating riding along the Eco Trail that leads into the mighty Makhonjwa Mountains. On this day thick mist hung wraithlike in the deep valleys lending an ethereal aspect to an already otherworldly vista.

I was the only traveller at the Josefsdal and Bulembu border posts and within ten minutes I was loose on the land in the Kingdom of Eswatini, the only absolute monarchy on the African continent. The other absolute monarchies on the planet are The Emirates, The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, The Sultanate of Brunei and The Vatican. This means that King Mswati III is a member of the world’s most exclusive club. The King holds unlimited power and all citizens owe their loyalty to the monarch.

Between 1939 and 2001 the Havelock Asbestos Mine operated in Bulembu. In the 1960s and 1970s, the mine was one the biggest producers of asbestos in the world and at its peak in 1976, the mine produced 42,000 tonnes of asbestos. But globally there was mounting evidence that asbestos was the cause of deadly lung diseases. Asbestos was declared the pariah of minerals and its use was outlawed by 66 countries including South Africa. When the mine closed in 2001 the employees abandoned the doomed town and overnight Bulembu became a ghost town. Five years later in 2006 the town and 1700 hectares of surrounding land were bought by Bulembu Ministries and the miners’ houses are now home to hundreds of AIDS orphans. On weekdays the children walk to school past the stark, grey 150-metre-high asbestos dumps that loom over Bulembu.

From Bulembu to Piggs Peak it’s 20km of dirt. The road is as rough as a bear’s arse but, paradoxically, not difficult to ride though there are some badly rutted uphill corners where you need to maintain revs and momentum. The big Beemer handled it with ease. It’s a scenic ride over mountainous terrain through plantations of eucalyptus and shortly before long I was tooling down the main drag of Piggs Peak for the rendezvous at KFC. These days my fodder of choice on the road is a KFC Bucket For One, an elegant sufficiency for about 40 Emalangeni. I had just finished eating when Carlos and Nhlanhla Maphanga pulled in, Carlos on his R1200RT and Nhlanhla on his R1200GS. While they scoffed their buckets we discussed the itinerary for the rest of the day.

Nhlanhla was very knowledgeable about the area and suggested a first stop at Maguga Dam on the Nkomati River. We rode south on the MR1 with Nhlanhla setting a cracking pace. A few kilometres from Piggs Peak we hooked left onto a secondary road that brought us to the dam wall. It was a short walk to the viewing platform for photos of the massive 115-metre-high embankment which was completed in 2001. The dam was full to capacity thanks to bountiful summer rains; good news for the sugar cane plantations and small farms that rely on irrigation from Maguga. Nhlanhla explained that the road we were on was a loop around the dam so instead of riding back to the MR1 we continued south on a brilliant road that wound its way into the mountains past villages defended by speed humps. There are speed humps everywhere in Swaziland and you better have your eyes open because the humps are typically unpainted and steep-sided. Hit one at speed and you’ll regret it.

Back on the MR1 we crossed the bridge where the Nkomati enters the dam, returned to Piggs Peak and continued north for 10 kilometres until we came to the turnoff to Phophonyane Falls. We rode a few kilometres of easy dirt and cruised into the Phophonyane nature reserve which covers 600 hectares. At reception, we were informed that the “conservation fee” to enter was E70 each. It was good to be in the company of siSwati speakers who informed the receptionist that I was a very important and influential (Ahem) motorcycling journalist and that we would not be paying any irksome fees. We walked through a lush, cool subtropical forest to reach the river and then followed a hellish steep pathway down a mountainside to the base of the falls. As I stumbled down the path I said to Nhlanhla “These falls better be incredible because I’m probably gonna have a heart attack clambering back to the top.” The 80-metre high falls were spectacular and worth the effort. The climb back up was a baastid but I’m here to tell the tale so it couldn’t have been all that bad.

The Phophonyane Lodge is a swanky joint that caters to European tourists. Sitting on the shady veranda sipping our hard-earned Sibebe Lagers we were in the company of visitors from France, The Netherlands and Italy. I’m sure they were happy to pay the equivalent of €2 for a beer but I nearly had a second heart attack when I offered to pay and was presented with a bill for E135, a stinging E45 for a 330ml beer. I was very glad we hadn’t paid the euphemistically named “conservation fee”.

Nhlanhla suggested our last destination for the day should be Sibebe Rock on the outskirts of Mbabane. All good! Yet another place I had not visited before and even more new roads to ride. In warm late afternoon sunshine, we followed Nhlanhla, who clearly had a wild hair up his arse, and blitzed south on the MR1 across wild rocky hillsides. At the junction with the MR3 we turned southeast, howled down the freeway for a few clicks and then rode sedately into the busy suburbs of Mbabane. We turned north onto the Pine Valley Road and in less than 10 kilometres stopped for photos at the base of Sibebe Rock. After Uluru in Australia, this granite mountain is the second-largest monolith in the world and the largest exposed granite pluton, rising 350 metres above the valley of the Mbuluzi River.

A few kilometres further on Nhlanhla led us onto a steep track that wound towards the summit of Sibebe. The surface of the track varied from dirt to tar to concrete to rocky middelmannetjies to horrible potholes but it was easy enough to ride and soon we arrived at the entrance to the Sibebe Resort. While Carlos and Nhlanhla were haggling about the entrance fee of E50 each I was observing an adult emu which seemed to be lurking with intent a couple of metres from the entrance. I made eye contact with the bird and it fixed me with a baleful glare and the next thing I knew I was in a staring competition with a bloody bird. We rode into the resort without paying and the emu charged at me flapping its wings, grunting and hissing and doing its best to kill me. I nearly soiled myself. Carlos and Nhlanhla were cackling like demented apes and I suppose, with hindsight, it was vaguely amusing. The views from the summit were stunning and the obvious thing to do was to drink a Sibebe on top of Sibebe and watch the setting sun. It was the perfect end to a great day in the saddle.

We rode back down the mountain and returned to Mbabane where Nhlanhla left us. Carlos and I rode through teeming rush-hour traffic and eventually rejoined the MR3. The freeway down the mountain from Mbabane is characterised by fast-flowing bends and a good grippy surface. We rode fast and soon we were on the plains heading for Manzini. Just before Manzini we turned south onto the MR9 and took it very easy as twilight fell. It was 15 kilometres to Sidvokodvo, 15 kilometres of cattle, pedestrians, speed humps and, taxis squeezing in the last trips of the day. Carlos owns Riders’ Ranch estate on the banks of the Great Usutu River and I was a guest in his home while I was in Eswatini. I spent a very happy evening in the company of Carlos and Sonia and the extended Paiva family. It was early to bed and I slept well dreaming of another day of adventures.

On Wednesday morning we rode south on the MR9. The plan for the day was to ride about 350km so time was on our side. The first stop was at Nkonyeni Golf Estate just a few kilometres from Riders’ Ranch. Carlos wanted to show me the quality of the accommodation available in Eswatini in case this article inspires you to visit the country. The rooms in the Bushbaby Lodge were brand new, bright, airy and reasonably priced at R1600 per couple, bed and breakfast. There’s plenty of good quality accommodation available countrywide and Google is your friend.

We continued south through the Grand Valley of the Mkhondvo River. I’ve ridden this road many times but always from south to north because it’s the route from Mahamba border post to Riders’ Ranch. The Grand Valley is a busy route so we rode at the speed limit enjoying the scenery, glimpses of the river and misty mountains on the western horizon. Brightly painted general dealers are a feature of the Eswatini roadsides and I stopped a few times for photos of the emporia. 40 kilometres south of Sidvokodvo there’s a low-level bridge over the river and I always stop there for photos. It’s an idyllic arcadian spot on the planet; the broad slow river flowing between grassy banks dotted with acacia trees and cattle grazing contentedly. We rode past Hlatikulu and ascended from the valley onto the southern highveld heading for Nhlangano.

Nhlangano is a busy sprawling town which caters to the needs of the farmers and foresters in the surrounding area. We wanted to ride the MR11 east but the road was being rebuilt and we were obliged to ride through the chaotic CBD. On the far side of town, we eventually picked up the MR11, a road I had never ridden before. This magnificent winding road traverses hilly bushveld landscapes and undulating savannahs with distant views to the south of the Pongola River valley. The area is sparsely populated but still, there were cattle grazing the roadsides and vicious speed humps guarding the few habitations. Near Mhlosheni we stopped to speak to two woodcutters, their wagon drawn by six donkeys. Carlos engaged them in lively conversation. They were salt of the earth, hardscrabble men and yet there was a gentle aspect to their natures as they spoke affectionately about their donkeys each of which had a pet name.

A few kilometres further we stopped for photos at the Bethel Evangelical Church. A local guy told us the church was built in the 1930s. Carlos must have remembered that I like taking photos of churches because apropos nothing he said to me “Would you like to visit the Catholic mission where I went to school in the 1960s? It’s called Our Lady of Sorrows. It’s a few clicks further along and not far off the road.” Of course, I said yes. Fifteen minutes later we rode into the grounds of the mission and parked the bikes beneath the benevolent gaze of a marble statue of the Virgin Mary.

Carlos has maintained contact with the mission over the years and went into the office to see who was there. He came back accompanied by Sister Terezita who, as a young woman, left her home in Italy and has been at the mission for 44 years. We walked to the cemetery and I was surprised to see fresh flowers on many graves. There was a row of eleven identical graves, each one the final resting place of an Italian sister who had dedicated her life to the children of Eswatini. The first of these lovingly tended graves contains the mortal remains of Mother Claudia Gonfiantini who was laid to rest aged 98. The visit to the mission was a fascinating detour, an unexpected glimpse into an aspect of the country I had never encountered before.

We continued eastwards at a relaxed pace. As we approached Lavumisa I spotted a yellow and pink general dealer with a bottle store next door. It was 13:30 and warm. The name of the shop was Walala Wasala which, in siSwati, means “You snooze, you lose” which just so happens to be the slogan on Swazi Rally T-shirts. It was written in the stars that we should stop there for a Sibebe Lager. Carlos and I were standing in the sunshine sipping our beers when I realised we were the foci of attention for the half dozen locals lolling on the veranda. It seemed rather boorish to be drinking in the presence of thirsty people so I bought six beers and dished them out. Instantly the vibe at Walala Wasala changed from ennui to animation and we spent the next half hour hanging with our new best friends taking photos and saying “Cheers!”

In Lavumisa we turned north on the MR8. To the east, there were views of Jozini Dam and for the rest of the ride north, the bulwarks of the Lebombo Mountains dominated the eastern horizon. We were in bushveld country with game fences on both sides of the road. For once we didn’t have to worry about cattle. As we approached Kamsholo Safaris Carlos indicated right. “What’s the fastest lunch?” “Chicken wrap.” Service was swift, the wrap was good and half an hour later we were back on the road. Big Bend, so named because the town is situated on a 180-degree bend in the Great Usutu River, is the hub of the vast sugar cane fields that stretch for tens of kilometres in every direction. We stopped at the Ubombo sugar mill for photos of the constant stream of cane transporters that feed the mill’s hungry maw. The mill produces 300,000 tonnes of sugar per annum and produces all its own electricity requirements from renewable sources.

From Big Bend, we followed the MR16 due north to Siteki and then hooked east to King Mswati III International Airport. When the airport opened in 2014 it was viewed as a white elephant but traffic has increased and these days Airlink and Eswatini Air connect the kingdom to Southern African destinations. There wasn’t much to see at the airport so I took a photo of the statue of the lion at the entrance before we headed for home. What’s truly remarkable about the airport is the 40-kilometre four-lane freeway from the airport to Manzini. It’s a beautiful road and almost deserted; there’s not a lot of traffic to the airport. We raced to Manzini at 180 and by 17:30 we were back at Riders’ Ranch. Over dinner that evening I asked “I’ve been here for two days and there hasn’t been any load shedding. How come?” “Oh we don’t get load shedding in Eswatini.“ “But doesn’t your electricity come from South Africa?” “80% of our electricity comes from South Africa.” And yet there’s no load shedding in Eswatini! Go figure!

My Thursday itinerary included a visit to the Samora Machel Monument which is in South Africa, very close to the point where the borders of Mozambique, Eswatini and South Africa meet. I thought I would be riding alone but Carlos said a visit to the monument was on his bucket list and he would join me. East of Manzini we left the airport freeway and headed north to Luve and Bhalekane. Time was on our side and we rode at a leisurely pace enjoying the contrast between bush-covered mountains and emerald fields of sugar cane in the valleys. We turned right at the T junction in Bhalekane, and rode across the sugar cane plains surrounding the Sand River Dam. The Mananga border post was as quick and easy as expected and within ten minutes we were riding the R571 to Komatipoort. 20 kilometres from the border we found the sign pointing to the Samora Machel Memorial. The distance from the turn-off to the monument is 30 kilometres. It’s an amazing ride from the lowlands up into the Lebombo Mountains with remarkable views to the west. The road to the memorial is well-signposted.

In the early afternoon, we stopped the bikes on a lonely mountainside near the village of Mbuzini where a tragic accident occurred on 19 October 1986. Samora Machel, President of Mozambique, and his entourage were returning to Maputo from Zambia aboard a Tupolev Tu-134. There were 35 passengers aboard the aircraft and nine crew of whom five were the highly experienced Russian cockpit crew. To this day the cause of the crash is a contentious subject but what is not disputed is that there was nothing mechanically wrong with the aircraft. It was a dark night and the crew were, in fact, lost. At 21:21 the pilot flew the plane into the ground, an aeronautical incident known as CFIT – Controlled Flight Into Terrain. Of the 44 souls on board 35 were killed. President Machel was one of the fatalities.

The monument at the crash site is a spiritual place and well worth a visit. The exhibits include the engines and pieces of fuselage from the doomed Tupolev. The photographic exhibits tell the story of the crash and accompanying texts give details of the conspiracy theories about the crash. Perhaps the most poignant feature of the monument is the concrete plinth where 35 wind flutes reach to the sky. Each tube represents one of the lives lost in the crash. Vertical slots in the tubes are designed to emit sounds of various tones when the wind blows across the tubes. On this day there was a strong wind blowing up from the valley and the wind flutes sang a mournful dirge, an eerie lament for the Mbuzini dead.

We rode away from the monument and stopped at the MSU Sports Bar for one last golden throat charmer to celebrate an excellent three-day adventure. Back on the flatlands at the foot of the Lebombos, we said our farewells. Carlos rode south to Eswatini and I rode north to Komatipoort where I turned west on the N4 and rode 100 kilometres home to Nelspruit.

Go and ride Eswatini while you’re still young. It’s a wonderful friendly destination and you’re guaranteed to ride roads you’ve never ridden before. Adventure awaits!

I rolled onto the freeway in Pretoria at 5.30 AM with the mercury at 4 Degrees C. Gqeberha a distant 1140 k’s away, seemed awfully far given that I was on TVS’s flagship, the Apache 310RR. Don’t get me wrong, this little motorcycle has some serious credentials, including a 24-hour Indian endurance record. I told you about that in my lead-up to this story, but I have been reflecting on that record.

The 24-hour Motorcycle record for individuals was set recently by Ivan Cervantes, riding a Triumph Tiger 1200 GT Explorer with 4012 k’s covered in 24 hours. Granted, that was by one rider however it was on a 1200cc motorcycle with a 30-litre tank. TVS set their 24-hr record with 3x 310 RRs running simultaneously for an incredible 3657,92 k’s, only 354 k’s less than the mighty Triumph. The 310 RR has an 11-litre tank which required topping up every hour. The Triumph could make way fewer stops for fuel which helped the average speed hugely. Averaging 153 k’s an hour meant that the little RRs were literally flat out for 24 hours, testimony to their design, overall quality, and astounding reliability.

I was riding on the road, and although not planning to thrash the RR mercilessly, I also did not want to take forever to get to Gqeberha. I decided to hold the bike to 8,000 rpm, just above the peak torque developed at 7,700 rpm. This would hopefully translate into decent hill-climbing ability and decent fuel economy. 8,000 rpm translates to an indicated 130 km/h which should keep me safe from the law. Just.

The 11-litre tank would mean filling up every 200 k’s or thereabouts. Five fuel stops in all. My plan was to splash ‘n dash, literally stand for some respite from the riding position then get going as quickly as possible. I ate a decent cereal and banana breakfast which had to see me through to PE.

Only past Jo’burg’s early traffic could I settle to a steady pace. It was getting progressively colder. The TVS’s motor was running at 69,5 degrees C, almost 20 degrees below normal operating temperature. I pulled into the One Stop beyond Parys to fill up and check my consumption and decided to have a coffee to try and warm up and allow the sun to start warming the planet somewhat. For some inexplicable reason, the first light is always the most frigid. The TVS sports fantastic lights which had cut a swathe through the darkness.

The hot coffee did the trick, and I was a happier chap running past Kroonstad. Fuel consumption seemed consistent at 24 km/L, so 200 k’s per tank was achievable with some reserve. I was using a mechanical cruise control which holds the throttle open at a constant setting. I would set it to 125 km/h on the flats, assist it on the uphill and allow it to run away on the downhills. This gave my right-hand plenty of opportunity to rest.

The kilometres melted away as the little TVS strutted its stuff. I was amazed by the seat comfort. What looks like a race bike pad is a sort of memory foam which proved to be incredibly comfortable and supportive. Despite my 6’3” frame I never felt any leg discomfort for the duration of the ride. The RR is amazingly roomy for a smallish motorcycle. The clip-on bars are high enough and close enough to keep your torso in a gentle crouch. The screen deflects wind from your body to about mid-chest height, allowing your helmet to be in clean air. As fatigue set in towards the end of the ride, my neck could feel the effect of holding my head up for hours on end. For the rest, I was surprisingly fresh.

Topping up in a now much warmer Colesburg, I was getting my long-distance Mojo back. There were a bunch of guys on big BMWs with a backup vehicle carrying their kit. I chuckled as I swung my leg over my minimalistic RR with a tiny tail pack with all my gear and headed south. Soft boys!!

Filling up in Cradock I was looking forward to the best part of the ride. Bring on the mountains! With its superb chassis and suspension and Michelin tyres, the RR is as good a handling bike as you could wish to ride. For those who have travelled this route will know, it is littered with countless trucks carrying cargo to and from the port of Gqeberha. Cars can get stuck for tens of k’s behind a convoy of trucks. Not so my plucky Apache. Tucked in and now enjoying the mountain roads, the 310 blitzed slower traffic. Cars that had passed me at speed were re-passed and never seen again as the RR strafed the bends. 60 km/h posted suggested limits were a doddle at 120+.

Eleven and a half hours after leaving Pretoria I rolled into PE having averaged a very respectable 108 km/h and better than 24 km/L. A great evening relaxing with family over a great dinner and a few glasses of decent red soon got rid of any residual aches and pains, and a good night’s rest had me fresh and ready to spectate the incredible event that had precipitated my trip.

Row for rhinos. A lady by the name of Sharon Jessup has taken the plight of the rhino to heart and made it her life’s work to make a difference. She is an endurance athlete of note, completing a Guinness Book Record for the most consecutive half marathons by a female, running 102 consecutive half marathons. She has run through every rhino-bearing game reserve in the country to draw attention to the threat to these iconic animals.

The ‘Rowathon’ was another Guinness record attempt. Teams would attempt to row for 24 hours and set a new record. The attempt was staged at the recently revamped Boardwalk Shopping Mall, starting at 3 PM on Friday and rowing until 3 PM on Saturday. My daughter Jenny was partnering with a Grey College rowing club member.

The format was to row for 30 minutes then rest for 30, for 24 hours non-stop. Sleep deprivation took a huge toll on the athletes, especially the Grey boys who, despite their athletic prowess were not used to the long-sustained effort. The ladies seemed to fare better. The sessions seemed to blur into a never-ending flurry of row, eat, drink, and try and rest aching bodies for mere minutes before doing it all over again.

I had a chat with a ranger, Eric Singqoto, who was collecting donations from passers-by and spectators. He is a seven times Comrades finisher and accompanied Sharon on her game park runs, carrying his rifle for ‘just in case’. “So, what motivated you to become a game ranger, Eric”, I asked. “Dave, I was in the SAPS, and having grown up in a village in the countryside I love the outdoors. As a Christian, God laid on my heart that we were given dominion over the animals, and I asked myself what were we doing with what God has entrusted us. I resigned and joined Wildlife Conservation because I thought I could make a difference”.

Wow! I found myself almost choking up at the heart of this humble and committed man who sacrifices so much for the animals that he loves. We need more Erics, that’s for sure! He tells me that so much poaching is still ‘inside jobs’. Poor people are swayed by the lure of money. Money is certainly the root of all evil! So much crime is a direct result of the dire economic state in SA exacerbated by rampant ruling party corruption.

At 10 PM I left the Mall to catch some shut-eye. My heart went out to the athletes labouring on for hour after hour. I was back at sunrise to try and encourage where I could. Despite aching bodies, spirits were high. By 19 hours into the attempt the previous record was already broken, now they just had to endure until 24 hours for the job to be done.

And so, it was! It was a bunch of exhausted but elated rowers that gave high-fives all around. Teams had rowed the equivalent of around 250 k’s in their 24-hr effort. Donations in favour of rhino conservation can still be made in the wake of this event up until the 11th of August [Donate Here]. Thinking of Eric’s commitment, and the efforts of these athletes, it seems just too easy to throw a few rands for the cause. What we desperately need is big corporate funding and feet on the ground. People like Sharon Jessup and Eric Singqoto, will not only give money but give of their time to make a difference. Rhinos are part of our national heritage and treasures that we cannot allow to be lost. If rhinos go extinct, what will be next? Lion parts for muti? God alone knows…

After a chilled evening, especially for Jen who was really walking wounded after her heroic ordeal, it was early to bed. Jen’s endurance event was over, but the second half of mine was still to come. I was up early and after a quick coffee I was packed and on the road by 6.45 AM. I rode out into a beautiful sunrise with red-tinged clouds scattered over a calm sea. It was a balmy 13 degrees C, a huge difference from the 4 degrees out of Pretoria a few days earlier.

I was able to dispense with a lot of layers so I was way more comfortable on the bike. I knew it would get colder towards Cradock but first I had the Olifantshoek Pass to enjoy. The TVS, gulping the dense coastal air and now properly loose from the open road miles, was running like a long dog. The 18% power gain at sea level for normally aspirated motors is really evident on a small-capacity motor. The pass was infested with trucks returning from having disgorged their loads at the port. No sweat for the RR. It goes through corners faster than the ANC through taxpayers’ money. Trucks were mere mobile chicanes for the flying Apache. On and up we went, revelling in perfect riding conditions.

Riding a smaller-capacity bike fast is incredibly rewarding. You cannot be sloppy. You stay in tune with the motor all the time. The light and responsive handling helps you make the most of every bit of power. Running at and around the torque peak meant that only on the odd occasion was it necessary to drop to 5th gear to accelerate or maintain decent momentum. It is almost like riding two strokes back in the day. You need to be focused on where the motor is in its happy zone and then engage with the bike to keep it there. The RR has enough midrange to stay in top gear when accelerating from 80 km/h up to cruising speed. Once in top gear, it runs uphill and down dale with gusto. I was amazed by the overall comfort given the tidy dimensions of the bike. It was literally only my neck that got fatigued over time.

Ten hours later I rolled up to my front gate. The average speed for the up trip was 113 km/h and fuel consumption was still an excellent 23 km/L. I was blown away by the TVS Apache 310RR. Checking the oil level showed that despite running hard for 2,300 kilometres the RR used no oil whatsoever. Even the chain lube lasted for the duration. For giggles, I popped into Wayne Pheiffer Cycles in PE. A BMC Roadmachine racing bicycle will set you back the princely sum of R134,599. The TVS Apache 310 RR can be had for a mere R79,999. I certainly know which one I would rather ride. Gives one some perspective of relative value, doesn’t it? Huge thanks to TVS for entrusting me with your spectacular Apache 310 RR. It can wear its 24-hr record with pride!

TVS Apache 310RR

For more information on the bike featured in this article, click on the link below…

Gabriel Turano is a Brazilian traveller and adventurer. He is one of the lucky few who had the courage to leave a good job in order to pursue a more personal journey, a journey of discovery and, hopefully, change, not only for himself but for everyone he meets along the way. Having visited more than 50 countries on four continents, he is now travelling through South Africa on a Hero motorcycle and, from time to time, sends reports on his progress and experiences. Here is the latest submission. For more information on Gabriel, visit www.gabrielturano.com

The Journey with Gabriel Turano

It was February 21st, 2023, and after a little over 30 days in Brazil, it was time to hit the road again. Well, not exactly hitting the road with my feet this time, but with my wheels.

I was heading to South Africa, coincidentally exactly one year after my last visit to the country. During my previous stay, I hadn’t fully enjoyed it as I would have liked. There were two reasons for that: firstly, I volunteered in a small village on the famous Garden Route called Wilderness. Secondly, there were challenges involved in getting around the country.

This journey was different. Over the course of a year, I had been discussing a partnership with Hero SA, an Indian motorcycle manufacturer with a strong presence on the continent. Apart from having conditions to buy/rent a big motorcycle or even receiving offers from other brands, I saw in the XPULSE an excellent project in terms of addressing Africa’s needs with a reliable motorcycle. We will discuss it further, but qualities such as low weight, robustness, fuel efficiency, and easy access to spare parts have convinced me.

My journey began with a gruelling 35-hour transit. Due to the pandemic, flights crossing the Atlantic between Brazil and Africa had been suspended, and the few remaining options forced me to head northwest towards Europe or the Middle East before pointing south. To Africa!

I arrived at Johannesburg airport, which, although not the capital of the country, is one of the main cities due to its historical importance in mineral exploration, especially gold. The city is situated at an altitude of almost 2000 meters, and fortunately, I arrived during a season with more pleasant temperatures, although still facing challenges with rain.

It was late afternoon, and I made a brief visit to the Hero dealer in JHB. I had the opportunity to meet the entire team that would support me with any possible needs in the following weeks, and most importantly, meet my beautiful Lucile, the name I gave to my XPULSE. Following the tradition of boats, to avoid bad luck during my journey, it was forbidden to give my faithful companion a male name.

Summing up the expedition, it lasted for 45 days, covered three countries, and encompassed over 5500 km in this initial journey. The first few days of riding through the northwest were challenging. South Africa was facing heavy rains that left parts of the country in disarray, making my motorcycle ride through flooded and pothole-ridden roads more exciting, but also more dangerous.

In the first few days, I passed through Groblersdal, Tzaneen, and Graskop. Unfortunately, I couldn’t enjoy the scenic routes of these destinations due to the rain. However, things started to improve from Graskop, near the border with Eswatini. I crossed the border on February 27th, six days after the start of this journey. I used the Jeppes Reef border at the suggestion of the locals, and from the first few kilometres, I could already tell that I was indeed in a new country, although paradoxically still “within South Africa.” It was a little over 120 km from the border to my accommodation, and the roads I travelled on were envied by many motorcyclists. Mountain ranges loomed on my horizon, and the higher I climbed in altitude, the fiercer the wind became, and the temperature dropped.

My accommodation, also suggested by the locals, was located within a nature reserve, teeming with abundant wildlife. As I rode my motorcycle through, I encountered zebras, impalas, warthogs, wildebeests, and various other animals. The BIG 5 (lions, elephants, rhinoceroses, buffaloes, and leopards) were not present there, so it was allowed to go on a bush walk and explore the savannah autonomously. And that’s exactly what I did! I even had the chance to admire crocodiles in the nearby lake.

After a few days of enjoyment, it was time to move on. I entered Eswatini from the north and exited from the far south. My intention was to reach a city called Mtunzini, located on the Eastern Cape coast, still bathed by the Indian Ocean. Due to the distance involved, I took a rest stop in Hluhluwe. It’s a region with a high concentration of game reserves that offer safaris to visitors. The weather in this region continued to be moody, and I had to navigate through flooded areas. It was also there that I saw giraffes for the first time on this expedition, albeit through fences.

I continued my journey to Mtunzini and had to face the dreaded N2, packed with trucks carrying coal to the port of Richard Bay. The traffic was so intense that I drove on the shoulder for almost the entire route, avoiding the wrath of the drivers. Mtunzini is located 140 km north of Durban, one of the major cities in the country. Also based on recommendations from locals I had received days earlier, I found a camping site within a national park (Umlalazi Wildlife). I was the only one staying there. The beaches in the area are wild and not suitable for swimming. I contented myself with walking along the extensive stretches of sand and admiring the beautiful landscapes. On one side, a vast ocean; on the other, dense forests and rivers flowing into the sea.

From the coast, it was time to head back inland. One of my plans was to visit the famous mountain range known as the Drakensberg (Dragon Mountain). It stretches into the Kingdom of Lesotho, which was also my destination as I planned to cross the iconic Sani Pass (a mountain pass leading to Lesotho). The distance was once again quite far, so another stop was necessary. I chose Mooi River via R614, avoiding major cities like Durban. The road was also quite scenic, despite dark clouds accompanying me throughout the journey.

I found accommodation outside the city, where the owner was working hard to recover from the recent rains. The river located a few meters below the accommodation had flooded and destroyed part of its structure. The next day, after researching access routes to Underberg, the base town for the famous Sani Pass, I opted for Nottingham Road. It was 100% off-road and quite deserted along the entire route. I had difficulty crossing it due to the mud and especially the flooded areas. I rode for dozens and dozens of kilometres without encountering any signs of life. I spent the day on the road, and I remember the fear I felt during this particular episode. Riding in desolate, flooded, and muddy places, with no support in sight if anything were to go wrong. But the fear that kept me responsible, cautious, and clear-headed throughout the journey eventually turned into pure happiness.

The Underberg region has so many merits that it’s hard to put into words. There are scenic roads that wind through the mountain ranges of the area. I found a retreat just 7 km from the South African border, very close to the Sani Pass.

It is essential for the ascent to occur on favourable days to avoid any complications. The next morning, I woke up in the dark, left all my belongings at the accommodation, had a nice breakfast, checked the weather forecast again, and set off to finally face the long-awaited Sani Pass. After getting my passport stamped, it was a 9 km climb on a gravel road to Lesotho. Due to the challenging and somewhat dangerous nature of the terrain, only 4×4 vehicles and organized tours are allowed to proceed. And there I was, on a motorcycle, climbing the place I had been eagerly anticipating.

It took just over an hour to complete the 9 km and get my passport stamped at the Lesotho border. I entered the country and was captivated by its natural beauty. I reached the highest point at 3240 meters above sea level and felt the power of the thin air not only on myself but also on Lucile. I spent the day exploring, talking to locals, and covering some kilometres within Lesotho.

The cloudy sky soon replaced the blue that had accompanied me. I decided to begin the journey back to Underberg. And so, I descended the steep 9 km of the Sani Pass.

Once again, my decision to acquire a lightweight motorcycle for the adventure I set out to do proved to be the right one. It would have been overly challenging to climb the Sani Pass with a heavy and unwieldy vehicle.

The following day, I headed back to the coast. I had heard a lot about the Wild Coast, located on the eastern coast of the country and home to one of the most prominent tribes, the Xhosa. In fact, it’s the same tribe that Mandela belonged to.

I must confess that it wasn’t a pleasant journey. I had concerns about passing through Mthatha, a city known for its high crime rates. Just a few kilometres before entering the city, I was stopped at a police checkpoint, and their intention to alert me only heightened my worries about passing through the inevitable city.

With due caution and benefiting from the agility that Lucile provided me, I quickly crossed the city and finally reached the last stage to Coffee Bay, the destination I had chosen on the Wild Coast. Although tired from the trip, I had fun on the terrible roads that connect Mthatha to Coffee Bay. Much more agile and faster than buses, cars, and trucks, I made up for lost time on the highways.

Unfortunately, paradise, as Coffee Bay is known, had turned into a scene of destruction. Just days before my arrival, the region experienced heavy rains and strong winds, causing trees to fall and bringing a lot of debris from the sea onto the beach. I even found a shipping container on the beach near my accommodation. I lamented the suffering of the locals, but I couldn’t help but enjoy the beautiful landscapes that the place still offered.

I decided to take a few days to rest before hitting the road again. My goal was Addo National Park. I’m passionate about the largest land mammal on the planet and couldn’t miss the chance to visit the home of elephants in South Africa. It would be quite a long journey, so I decided to make a stop in Morgans Bay. The town isn’t popular among foreign visitors to the country. Since there are no roads connecting the coast in this region, it’s necessary to ride a few kilometres inland before heading west. The bad weather continued to accompany me, but fortunately, I managed to avoid the rain. The South African coastline is wild and known for its strong winds. To reach Morgans Bay, I had to cross the Great Kei River, which runs for 320 km before flowing into the Indian Ocean. In the absence of a bridge connecting the mainland, I made the crossing on a small ferry.

Although my stay was short, it was extremely enjoyable. There are various cliffs around the town that are worth a visit to appreciate the surrounding sea. In the presence of local residents, I witnessed low tide fishing. As my goal was to visit Addo, the next morning I hit the road again towards the national park.

I found accommodation a few kilometres from the Addo entrance gate and took advantage of the proximity to book a sunrise game drive. Later, I realized that it was a mistake as elephants tend to be shy during sunrise.

On the night before my visit, the accommodation host invited me to a South African braai. In Brazil, as we know, barbecue is quite popular, but the quality of South African meat is impressive, even to us Brazilians. Before the first rays of the sun, I was already riding in the freezing morning towards the park’s main gate.

Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to spot any elephants among the 500+ that inhabit the park. It would have been comical if it weren’t tragic for someone who had been looking forward to this encounter. But that’s precisely the beauty of a safari: its unpredictability.

It was time to head to more pleasant temperatures and explore a region well-known not only to South Africans but especially to foreign visitors to the country. Jeffreys Bay was my next destination.

Just over a hundred kilometres connected Addo National Park to this coastal town. It was a rewarding journey, passing through small towns and roads with lush vegetation. I was entering a region that I had been eager to visit and had little opportunity to enjoy during my previous trip to the country.

Jeffreys Bay breathes surf. It is home to one of the World Surf League (WSL) stages, and the beach is known for its tubular waves. During the championship, you can get close to all the professional surfers who travel the world in search of the best waves.

Although the place is known for its powerful waves, the beaches are also beginner-friendly. Many foreigners visit Jeffreys Bay to learn to surf.

It was time to slow down and enjoy the journey more. I spent a few days in the town, soaking in the vibe, enjoying a cold beer, and connecting with other travellers. It was a well-deserved rest for someone who had faced challenging roads and dealt with bad weather for long, long days.

From Jeffreys Bay, I continued heading west towards Nature’s Valley. In my opinion, one of the most beautiful regions along the Garden Route. Since I had already visited Tsitsikamma National Park, I decided to spend only one day in the region before continuing my journey. I was eager to return to Wilderness, a small town that had been my home for just over a month a year earlier in 2022.

Wilderness is a welcoming town and a paradise for nature lovers. I stayed there for almost a week, enjoying all the activities the region has to offer, including Wilderness National Park. I also visited the Map of Africa, two mountains resembling the African continent, and observed dolphins on the town’s beach. It’s also possible to have fun exploring the various off-road and gravel roads.

From Wilderness, I rode two passes that I had been looking forward to Montagu Pass and Swartberg Pass. It’s difficult to choose the best adventures on this journey, but these two passes were undoubtedly memorable. Along with the Sani Pass and another adventure that I will tell later, they may have been the most epic places I visited with my Lucile.

I chose to stay in Oudtshoorn as I planned to continue to the Karoo via the famous Route 62, a semi-desert region. As I mentioned before, it’s hard to pick the most epic places on this journey, but Route 62 is certainly one of them. Here, the feeling of “nothingness” is present with every kilometre ridden. The area is extremely remote but shines brightly with the beauty of the desert. I knew there was a campsite with hot springs a few kilometres from Barrydale, so I decided to spend two nights there, enjoying the hot water pools. As always, I was warmly welcomed by South Africans, who were always curious about my journey.

From Barrydale, I continued along Route 62, passing through iconic towns like Montagu and Robertson. Here, I was heading to my final destination in South Africa: Cape Town. My heart was already feeling a bit heavy, but I knew there were still great adventures ahead.

Cape Town is a paradise for adventurers and nature lovers, and it’s one of the most beautiful cities in the world that I’ve ever visited. I took advantage of the city’s infrastructure to give Lucile her first check-up, as she hadn’t given me any problems so far. I drove several times along Chapman’s Peak, a scenic route that connects Cape Town to Simon’s Town, home of penguins. The same route also leads to Cape of Good Hope, discovered in the 15th century by the Portuguese explorer Bartolomeu Dias.

During my visit, I took the opportunity to climb Table Mountain and Lions Head multiple times. I admired the sunset from Signal Hill, Sunset Rock, and Camps Bay. I enjoyed the bohemian vibe of the city and interacted with other travellers.

And here, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, I concluded the first phase of my journey with Lucile. I couldn’t be more grateful for all the epic places she led me to, always resilient, fuel-efficient, and reliable. I ventured into many remote locations, far from civilization, and having a dependable companion like Lucile made my adventures much more enjoyable.

Until next time, fellow adventurers.
Gabriel Turano