I don’t know if any of you, like me, felt just a little short-changed after the December break. It came at the end of, to quote the dear departed Queen, an ‘Annus Horribilis’. A crappy year where the only positive thing we saw was the end of Covid and its madness. Travelling at this time of year is a toss-up at best. The weather is almost guaranteed to be lousy. Too hot, too wet and too humid.

As if that wasn’t enough to contend with, the KZN sea and beaches, in the main, were infested with turds. The fairest Cape is an option, but the current fuel prices punish you and then you still have to contend with the rest of SA who also thought the Cape was a good call for their holiday. I am probably just grumpy because I just didn’t get adequate saddle time over the break. I needed to correct that desperately.

We recently had a spell of magnificent weather. Those big blue sky days with hot, but not humid, weather. This came after weeks of unpredictable, stormy, humid and in many cases gloomy days. On these bright sunny days, with no chance of rain, the Gypsy in my soul becomes impossible to resist. With no fixed plan, other than to ride and then ride some more, I packed my tent (to keep my options as wide open as possible) and essential kit for an overnighter on my Scrambler Ducati Icon. A quick shout out here to Givi for their Canyon soft luggage as well as Go Gravel for their utterly brilliant waterproof stuff bag. The two systems work brilliantly together, especially if your plan is to traverse some dirt roads.

I rode out of Pretoria at around 7:00 AM on a bright and sunny day with not a cloud in the sky. I knew it would get hot later on, but we would deal with that when it happened. In true desert sled tradition I wore riding jeans, a T-Shirt and my 40-year-old IXS leather jacket which is lined but not padded. What an amazing piece of kit that has been. It is the top half of a two-piece set of leathers which have served me flawlessly over literally millions of kilometres.

My feet were shod with Icon ankle boots which fit the Scrambler mould perfectly with their old-school rugged construction. Feeling as minimalist as my bike, I breathed in the still-cool morning air and felt the everyday stress and strain of modern living start to ebb away. This was going to be a good day!

Riding out through the plots towards the road east that runs past Bronkhorstspruit dam, I took in the magnificent green and verdant countryside and felt compelled to capture the image of the Scrambler parked in a huge recently mowed field. That done, I cruised east. I say “cruise” because that is literally how I was riding. On a naked bike, you do not have to blast down the road to feel that you are in motion. Anything over 115 km/h is satisfying if you are riding for the sheer joy of being one with your motorcycle on a beautiful day. The Icon is such a joy to ride in this fashion. The easygoing nature of the 800cc 90-degree L-Twin is engaging as it emits a throaty burble from the liberated pipe. Turning a relaxed 4,500 rpm I scooted blissfully along.

It was one of those rides where time almost stood still while the k’s sped by. Before I knew it I was rolling into Milly’s for a Steers burger brekkie and fuel top-up. There were 5 busloads of ANC members in all their party regalia en route to somewhere. Watching these guys’ antics as I scoffed my burger, I wondered how, with the ANC’s shocking track record after almost 30 years at the helm, any thinking man or woman could possibly vote for them with any hope of a better future.

I soon dismissed such wonderings given that I was so enjoying wandering of a different kind. Fuelled and fed, I hung a right through Machadodorp and exited on the road to Barberton. About 10 odd k’s down this road a tar road turns off to the left. I followed this road until I saw a dirt track running off of it to the left with a “Tranquilitas Guest Farm” sign. Hooking a left, I got to experience the Icon on the dirt.

I had ridden this road in the past when it was in vastly better nick. It seems that traffic volumes are very low, so with high rain volumes, it has deteriorated into a bit of a goat track. Great for Scrambling though. With some deep erosion ruts, you need to pay attention as the road meanders through grassland and a bit of acacia forest. I stopped for a couple of photos and just revelled in the solitude and splendour of the countryside. I was also pleased to see that my luggage was staying put and needed no repositioning or fastening (always a good idea to check your luggage after your first few k’s of gnarly dirt).

I was reminded of a trip many years ago with a buddy to Botswana, where he was slack with checking his luggage and ended up trailing a plume of smoke as his exhaust came into contact with his luggage and set fire to his blow-up mattress. It was very funny watching him abandon ship and then try to separate his burning luggage from his bike. All ended well apart from the fact that his sleeping comfort was history. The smoke smell on his clothing was also rather offensive!

I really enjoyed riding the Scrambler on the gnarly track and all too soon I was ambling into Waterval Boven at the end of the dirt. Back on tar, I proceeded east and through the tunnel then down the magnificent Eland’s River valley. The tar is super smooth and snakes through long sweeps that are brilliant to ride. Once again the inherent handling qualities that seem to be built into every bike that exits the Bologna factory came to the fore. I smelt Ngodwana sawmills before I saw them. This is the thing with bike travel. You are so part of the countryside that you are traversing. By now it was getting properly hot, but the joy of a naked bike is that you get the full benefit of the breeze that you are creating. Dropping the zip slightly and loosening the cuffs on my jacket had the desired cooling effect.

Idling into Ngodwana I turned right towards Kaapschehoop. The road up the hill is somewhat bumpy in contrast to the awesomely smooth Elands Valley road but it becomes really pleasant as the temperature drops faster than a bride’s nighty. You go from Lowveld heat to Kaapschehoop at an 8-degree cooler environment.

My dirt rambling had generated a proper thirst so I proceeded directly to ‘the office’. The epic little pub called “Nagkantoor” that is, which is located in the “bo-dorp”. An ice-cold beverage went down like a homesick mole. My buddy Brian and his chum Martin arrived after breakfast in Sabie and joined me at the office. They confirmed that the Lowveld was indeed cooking and that Kaapschehoop was the place to be.

Nagkantoor is run by De Wet Potgieter, a freelance journalist and author, who has published a number of books on controversial subjects encompassing SA’s recent past. An extremely likeable fellow and a great host he is too. The photos that adorn the walls of the pub tell many a story and are a pictorial history of some memorable SA events. Whiling away time in this environment on a sunny day after an epic ride is indeed pleasant, to say the least. A trio of the wild horses that are one of these villages’ claims to fame ambled past in search of anyone willing to give them a treat. A caramel pancake and another cold one (a man can’t stand on one leg you know) made for a great time shooting the breeze with mates.

Brian and Martin retired for a quick 40 winks after which I joined them for a coffee. Although geared to sleep over somewhere, I came to the realization that what I was really craving was more of a riding fix. I duly bade them farewell, mounted the Scrambler and at 3:30 in the afternoon, I headed for home.

On the ride down the sun had risen to meet me and now was hauling off, following its inexorable path to the west. I sped up the valley and then spilt onto the plateau, chasing the sun. I have noticed that riding east you invariably have a headwind, which, even if it nor really huffing, becomes evident in your fuel consumption. Now I had the converse. I could rumble along at 125 with absolutely no strain on the body and the Icon sipping 95 octane at 24 k’s to a litre.

At 6:30 PM on the dot, I rolled up to my gate. What a privilege it is to own a bike with which you can ride far and wide across our beautiful land. A day in the saddle completely reset my mood meter. It is days like this that stick in the memory and completes the incredible tapestry of life. I did nothing extraordinary. I did not race across the dirt or try and tear up the twisty tarmac. I simply got out there in perfect weather and rode my bike with a spring in my step and perfect peace in my soul. I would duplicate that on any day in the right set of circumstances. So, just get out there and ride your bikes with no agenda other than for the sheer joy of it all, letting your worries and woes fade, for that day at least, into obscurity.

Ducati Scrambler Icon

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

If you were planning a long trip on a motorcycle, which motorcycle would you choose, if you were in the enviable position of being able to choose any motorcycle you would like? Naturally, thoughts would turn to a dedicated touring bike if you were certain that every road you rode was going to be tarred. South Africa presents a different scenario, however, where many really interesting roads are dirt. In this case, an adventure bike is called for: a bike that can handle any surface thrown under its wheels and handle them all with equal ability.

So, adventure bike it is. The choice has been narrowed but, with the proliferation of adventure bikes on the market, there is still a decision to be made, not only in what brand to choose but what size. Every manufacturer worth its salt offers an adventure bike: most offer more with different engine displacements and physical sizes.

So, if we assume the ability to choose the bike on which you would undertake an adventure into the heart of South Africa, which would it be? BMW? Triumph? Ducati? KTM? Husqvarna? Yamaha? Honda? You can pretty much pick your favourite brand and go from there.

But, where is the challenge in that? Where is the adventure? OK, so not everyone wants their ride to be a challenge and, as for ‘adventure’, I know that not every rider wants too much of that, either: plump for the soft life, full of comfort and excess power; rest securely in the knowledge that you will get there and back with the minimum of fuss or concern for the machine.

If you’re travelling a long way, you want something with a larger engine, to cover distances at speed and with ease. But, what if you don’t want to whistle past all the amazing scenery, and rush through all the small towns leaving nothing but a dust cloud in your wake and maybe an empty bottle at the local pub? What if you want the journey to be the experience, not the destination? What’s the point of all that vastness of landscape if you’re going too fast to appreciate it?

Such thoughts dictated the choice of mount for my own particular odyssey: that and a bloody-mindedness that told me to shy away from the easy route. There are quite a few small adventure bikes on the market, from the likes of BMW, KTM, Kawasaki and so on. Somehow, however, you just expect them to go the distance, because of their parentage: they really shouldn’t break.

There is another, not-so-obvious choice, however. What if I told you there was a motorcycle manufacturer that sells more motorcycles than the second, third and fourth-placed two-wheeler companies put together but does that in one country?

Hero MotoCorp is one of the largest two-wheeler manufacturers in the world. Since the company’s inception – in partnership with Honda – in 1984, nearly 100 million Hero motorcycles and scooters have been produced and annual sales in the past ten years have been anywhere between six and eight million motorcycles. And this is almost solely in India, don’t forget!

The Hero brand has recently been introduced into South Africa by the Fire it Up! group. While it is tempting to look at it as just another ‘cheap’ brand on the market, it has to be clearly understood that the Xpulse 200 that I rode is in no way a ‘cheap’ motorcycle. Inexpensive to buy and run, certainly, but not ‘cheap’ in the way we understand the term, as in ‘cheap and nasty’. Once you’ve read this account of my time with the bike, I hope you’ll come to understand what I am talking about.

So, there you have it: the cat’s out of the bag. Spurning all the easy options, I chose, for my mount on this epic voyage of discovery, not a thundering litre-plus behemoth but a diminutive Hero XPulse 200: 18 horsepower and 17 Nm of torque wrapped up in an off-road capable motorcycle, weighing in at 153 kg with a full tank of fuel. Hardly the stuff that epic adventures are made of. Or are they?

Given that my initial intentions were to ride towards the middle of nowhere and see if I could find it, my decision might seem a little odd but, as I have said, the journey was the adventure, not the destination: I couldn’t rush to get there, because where was I going? With no destination, I could concentrate on where I was. And that was the whole point behind choosing the Hero: I simply couldn’t decide to pile on the kilometres. Going nowhere slowly was the only option.

Also, there was a desire inside to see if a bike such as the Hero could complete such a journey. Many were the doubters, the cynics and the downright rude but the fact that I am here to tell the tale tells its own tale.

There is something liberating about setting off with no particular destination in mind. On the first day, I had only one goal: to get out of Gauteng and head for Bloemfontein, that city being chosen as the jumping-off point for the adventure, The route of Jo’burg, Vereeniging, Koppies, Kroonstad, Welkom, Virginia, Theunissen (where I paused to take a photo alongside the steam locomotive that serves as sentry to the small town.

What tales of travel and mighty effort would it be able to tell, was it able to, and what a sad end for a once magnificent, living, breathing piece of machinery), Brandfort and Bloem were as uninspiring as the names suggest, the countryside I passed through was exactly the same.

The roads were generally in good condition, apart from the stretch between Koppies and Kroonstad, on the R82, which was more pothole than road. It may have been straight as a die, but my course was anything but as I slalomed along its length. It runs for many kilometres alongside a double railway line and, if ever there was an indictment of the state of this nation, it was the broken road and the rusted, unused railway tracks that stretched into the distance, no train had passed over these metals for a very long time and, in all likelihood, never would again.

The Hero took this leg of the journey, the long, boring stretches of road through unspectacular scenery, in its stride. Cruising speed was around 100-110 km/h, not nearly enough to dispatch the distance without getting mightily bored but this was the first day and anticipation of what was to come made it bearable.

The city of Bloemfontein was utterly forgettable, seemingly not yet woken up from the Christmas period. Aloe Guest Rooms proved to be a smart and comfortable (and inexpensive) place to spend the night, with hosts Michael and Debs welcoming and hospitable. I spent part of the evening with their son’s boa constrictor draped around my neck as we chatted over a beer or two, which was disconcerting but ultimately uneventful.

Dawn on the second day brought the anticipation for the day ahead. I headed out of Bloem towards De Aar and then speared off towards Bethulie and Gariep Dam. Turning south towards Venterstad, I then speared off onto dirt roads to wind my way down to Middelburg by a very indirect route but wasn’t this exactly what I had set out to do? Go wherever the road took me?

By now I was fully appraised of the strengths of the Hero. This was very easy: it simply wasn’t going to let me down. Highway, minor road, tar or dirt, it was an amazing companion. Nothing rattled, nothing came loose, no matter the punishment the road meted out. The suspension might be basic, as you would expect, but it never felt out of its depth no matter the surface. Once I had gotten used to the fact that 100 km/h was my speed, it would hold that for kilometre after kilometre, sipping at fuel as it went. The seat was remarkably comfortable – dare I say more comfortable than many larger and vastly more expensive adventure bikes. Putting in a ten-hour day on a bike will bring out any shortcomings in the comfort of any bike and the Hero just didn’t have any – for me, at least.

By this point in the journey, I had a strange desire to see the sea and to meet up with the family, who were already swimming in it. Fair enough, I thought, but I wasn’t going to head there directly. Looking at the map, I saw that the Swartberg region wasn’t too far away and previous experience had told me that there was some amazing riding to be had.

Thus, from Middelburg, wheels were turned towards Graaff Reinet along the drudgery that is the N9 highway. I had promised myself that highways would form little or no part of my journey, that they were contrary to the premise of the journey, but I also accepted that, if they had to happen, I wouldn’t beat myself up. In actual fact, this particular stretch of highway is endlessly scenic, taking in the Lootsberg and Naudeberg passes and crossing vast tracts of the fringes of the Karoo Desert.

It was on this leg of the journey that I experienced the first twinges of range anxiety. The 13-litre tank on the Hero is normally good for about 300 km and I made a point of always filling the tank whenever I stopped if only to avoid such situations of anxiety in the middle of nowhere. Normally that worked but for some reason I forgot to do so in Middelburg after riding from Bloem, being lulled into a false sense of security by the fuel gauge that still read three-quarters full. Of course, twenty kilometres outside Middelburg, the digital fuel gauge read half-full but, with around 100 km to go to Graaff Reinet, I figured I would be OK.

However, cruising at full throttle at 110 km/h on the Hero uses more fuel than traversing the country on dirt roads with the result that the last 40 km into GR were taken at ever-lower speeds, eking out the remaining fuel with no desire to be stranded by the roadside. The last segment of the fuel gauge was flashing as, with relief, the indomitable Hero rolled into GR where we both slaked our thirsts.

The plan from here was to ride to Aberdeen and then cut across the country toward Beaufort West, which would be the overnight stop and a useful jumping-off point towards Prince Albert and the Swartberg Pass. From Aberdeen, the R61 forms a gentle curve across the Karoo to Beaufort West. It had been a glorious day, weather-wise, and as the clock ticked over 4 pm and I left Aberdeen, the sun was beginning to lower itself, casting ever longer shadows across the vast landscape.

Nearing the end of a long day in the saddle, the prospect of another 140 km and nearly two hours of riding before engine stop didn’t exactly fill me with joy but the scenery was so beautiful, the wind so warm (and at my back, making things more bearable) and the horizon so vast, I really couldn’t find any complaints that would last more than a few minutes. Wasn’t the whole point of this trip to go nowhere slowly? To take notice of what I was passing through? To stop as often as possible to take it all in?

Ah, but there is something special about pulling over and shutting off the engine in the middle of nowhere. After the constant rush of air and the sound of the engine in your ears for hour after hour, stopping is an amazing sensation. The silence is completely enveloping: a silence as vast as the landscape. The peacefulness stops you in your tracks. So what if stopping delayed my arrival in Beaufort West? I had a tent with me. And a sleeping bag. If need be I could sleep under the stars.

But every time I would give in and get on my way again, only to stop as the next rise was breasted and the landscape once again opened up before me in all its glorious emptiness. Part of me didn’t want this moment to pass but another part of me wanted to reach civilisation. And so, at 6:30 pm, I rolled into the X-Adventure campsite just outside Beaufort West and switched off the engine after a twelve-hour day in the saddle. Another favourite moment on any journey, the moment you know you’ve done it, the satisfaction, the relief and the sense of achievement. Put up the tent, light a fire, cook a lamb chop, have a smoke, drink a beer, watch the stars come out, and sleep like a log. Job done.

Up and away early, continuing south on the N1 to Kruidfontein, where I turned off onto dirt to get to Prince Albert, a very pretty town and the gateway to the Swartberg. The start of the Swartberg Pass lies just outside the town and, as my wheels turned onto it, the premonition of a great day’s riding ahead came to me.

Initially, the pass winds its way through a narrow gorge, hemmed in by towering walls of layered rock formations created over millions of years. The sun is shining but often you find yourself in deep shadow, the sun kissing only the upper reaches of the walls. Narrow and winding, the road climbs steeply and is mildly challenging but the Hero showed no signs of being out of its depth. If anything, riding a bike with a minimum of power prevents anything ever coming at you too quickly so there are never any moments of mild panic and plenty of time to take in the views.

I meet no one on the way up but, at the top, meet a couple of cars and three fellow motorcyclists on large KTMs. We chat and at no point do I wish I was on one of their machines. The Hero matches my own skill level and plugs on without complaint. Over the top and the Swartberge valley reveals itself far below, bathed in sunshine and a patchwork of different shades of green. By now I am fully in the groove and fall down into the valley in a series of breathtaking sweeps, shedding height with every metre of forward travel.

At the bottom, I turned left towards Cango Caves, the tarred road meandering its way through lush fields, warming in the sunshine. Past the entrance to the Cango Caves, I turn off-road once again to make my way to De Rust. I really don’t want this to come to an end. The warm sunshine, blue skies and easy pace that the Hero dictates suits my mood. From De Rust, I take the direct route to Uniondale along the R341 which like all the roads in this region, twists and turns through some incredible scenery. It’s still early and I am in no rush, by now having come to love the enforced limit to top speed. How much more I am seeing! How I enjoy stopping often to take it all in, deeply conscious that I am due nowhere at any time so, where is the hurry?

Uniondale arrives at last and, with it, the prospect of the Prince Alfred pass to Plettenberg Bay. Top up with fuel – both myself and the Hero – and we’re off, heading first to Aventuur, the road is yet another highlight in a trip full of them before the surface turns to dirt and we’re back into serious riding.

What an experience the Prince Alfred Pass is. Up and down, tight and twisty and then open and flowing: sandy, rocky, muddy in places, heart-stopping in others, never anything less than beautiful, often imposing and intimidating but never dull. The little Hero takes it all in its stride, confidence-inspiring and always willing. We stop for a beer at Angie’s G-Spot, a lovely bar and restaurant nestling in a little valley about halfway between Uniondale and Plett. There are dozens of bikes parked up – this is obviously a popular destination for a weekend ride – and the Hero and I immediately make friends as is only possible when two wheels are the mode of transport.

The Prince Alfred Pass will take you to either Knysna or Plettenberg Bay, the road splitting about 15 kilometres after Angie’s place. The road opens up here but it’s still dirt and it dips and dives through the wide valley before climbing up once again for one last breathtaking vista before dropping steadily down to the N2 just outside Plett. Any sadness that the day’s ride is coming to an end tempered by the fact that I am about to reunite with the family.

This wasn’t how I saw the journey unfolding and the whole point of the trip has altered since I left Johannesburg. But isn’t that the whole point of freedom, to choose how you shape your journey? I set out to find solitude but realised that what I really wanted was to spend time with loved ones: I had a dose of solitude and now I was ready for company.

The next few days passed in a haze of sun, sea, sand, food, good company and a sense of deep gratitude: gratitude for a life that has enabled me to experience and appreciate so much and bathe in the love of a family. But the memories of what I had ridden through were still very clear in my mind and I was eager to continue the journey, even if my wheels would be pointing towards home and the commencement of another year of, well, who knows what?

It was easy to delay departure for a day as the weather was foul: raining buckets and cold. The next day was dry but cloudy and the Hero and I could once again hit the road. Now, the journey towards home is much different to the journey away from home. Very quickly, a sense of ‘let’s just get there’ takes over, especially if there is a deadline to meet. It’s almost as if there is a sense of ‘the fun is over, time to get back to reality.’ But there was still the Prince Alfred Pass to do in the opposite direction and, despite the rain having made things, er… interesting, should we say? it was just as good the second time around.

Uniondale appeared and, despite the urge to simply meander my way back, I was in a different frame of mind this time. I knew it was going to be a two-day trip but I just wanted to get it over with and it was at this point that, for the one and only time, I wished I had something a little faster to ride, for sitting on the highway for hours on end is not what the Hero was built for. Don’t get me wrong, this amazing bike sat for hours on end at full throttle and very near the red line without complaint, sipping at fuel and remaining comfortable. It simply would not break or give up. But I couldn’t help reflecting that another ten or fifteen horsepower and another ten clicks of torque would turn the Hero into a bike eminently suitable for South African riding conditions.

And so the kilometres passed under our wheels. Willowmore for a delicious breakfast, Graaff Reinet for fuel, Colesburg for lunch and towards Bloemfontein as the shadows lengthened. Hours and hours of deathly dull highway leavened only by the humbling vastness of the landscape, beautiful under the flawless blue of the sky.

I considered pushing on into the night and reaching Johannesburg but wiser counsel prevailed and, with Bloem apparently completely full in terms of accommodation, I finally turned the bike off forty kilometres shy of that city and took a chalet at Tom’s Place Resort. Simple and inexpensive, it had a bath and a bed, cold beer and food: all the ingredients for contentment.

The last 400 kilometres to home were almost a stretch too far but, as with the outward journey, there was the satisfaction of the destination – in this case, home – to look forward to. Also, there was a sense of achievement and confounding the naysayers by undertaking a 3,000 km trip on a 200cc Hero, costing R49,000 brand new, and coming out on top. Had I proven anything other than my own possibly misguided desire to not take the conventional path? I’ll freely admit there were times when I wished I was riding something larger but these were far outweighed by the times when I realised I had made the right decision and I was on exactly the right bike for what I wanted and needed to achieve.

The last 100 kilometres via Vereeniging were covered with some trepidation. There was no reason to believe the Hero would let me down but the mind plays tricks when the finishing line is in sight and the seemingly impossible (or, rather, improbable) has very nearly been proven to be possible. I had no need to worry, the last few kilometres past Jo’burg CBD on the double-decker highway and winding down through Houghton were accompanied by waves of relief and a perhaps misguided sense of achievement. Would anyone else have been mad enough to do this? Does it really matter?

The stamina of the Hero constantly amazed me. It used no oil whatsoever, nothing came loose, it proved to be comfortable, reliable – bulletproof, even – frugal (for the record, I spent R1,700 on petrol) and never not surprising in its willingness to simply carry on long after the rider considered giving up.

As an adventure bike, it was excellent and, if the suspension is relatively unsophisticated, it was more than good enough for the available performance. The crash bars, sump and hand guards and oil cooler were all reassuring presences but the most comforting thing was the fact that, had I dropped it, the relative lack of speed would likely limit damage and it would be easy to pick up without doing myself an injury.

The big question, of course, is whether I would do it all again, knowing what I now know. That’s difficult, with the memories still fresh in my mind. On the whole, I rather think I would, but I would like a few more horses and torques to make 120-130 km/h cruising possible. I spoke to Hero South Africa about this and, strictly off the record, it appears that they have been talking to Hero India about just this, pointing out the relative differences in riding conditions between here and India. Perhaps this might prompt a slightly larger engine? If that happens and the price and reliability remain unaffected, then any arguments against considering a Hero as your next adventure bike simply melt away.

As always, I sit here writing this wishing I was back out there on the road, with nowhere in particular to go and no rush to get there. But I get the feeling that the memories of this particular trip will take a long time to fade, lasting long enough to make me hungry for the next time I turn whatever wheels I may have in the garage towards the horizon in search of adventure, companionship, solitude or simply some wide open space in which to pull over and enjoy the silence.

My thanks to Hero South Africa for entrusting me with the XPulse 200 despite having no idea what it was to be subjected to. To be fair, even I had no idea but it survived and I can’t be anything but impressed.

Hero XPulse 200

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

I am fortunate to get to ride the latest and most excellent bikes to hit our shores. The problem is I can’t just leave it there. From time to time I smash my piggy bank and put my hard-earned loot on the line. Having sold my brilliant BMW 1200 GS Adventure after a shoulder injury, I needed a lighter replacement. A few bikes made my shortlist.

I wanted a bike that, like my GS Adventure, was suitable for smashing long distances, two up, in comfort. I also wanted that bike to be competent both on tar and dirt. Value for money was the third criterion. My needs immediately excluded the Yamaha T7 and Aprilia Taureg, both great machines, but too small for two-up distance travel. BMW’s 850 GS is a solid option, but a bit long in the tooth. Ultimately it came down to a two-bike shortlist: the Honda CRF1100L Africa Twin and the Triumph Tiger 900 Rally Pro. Specifications are one thing, but given that I will spend hours on the bike it must be good to ride too.

Both contenders offer a fantastic riding experience. The Honda with its torquey twin never fails to satisfy. The Rally Pro, with its growling cross-plane big-bang motor, is similarly engaging. So, what swayed me in favour of the Triumph? Quite simply, the Rally Pro offers absolutely astounding value for money. When I started looking into the standard spec of the two bikes the Honda started looking pale by comparison. At this point, let me say that I have, and always have had, a soft spot for Big Red. The build quality and reliability of Honda motorcycles are the stuff that legends are made of, however, over the years I have matured into an unbiased rider with an appreciation for fine motorcycles, full stop. So what features tipped the scales in favour of the Triumph?

Let me list the features that come standard on the Rally Pro which the Honda does not have. You may not rate all these features but bear in mind that you would have already saved R11,000 on the purchase price of the Triumph versus the Honda. Tubeless Akront rims, tyre pressure monitors, spots/riding lights, main stand, heated grips, heated seats, wind deflecting hand protectors, quick-shifter, adjustable windscreen, lower engine protection bars and two power points plus a USB charging point. Damn! That is a helluva goody bag of pimped parts!

Add to that Brembo Stylema brakes, a bigger 20-litre fuel tank, and 10 mm more suspension travel back and front (Both bikes have Showa suspension). The real kicker for me was the tubeless tyres and the main stand. Changing tubes down a dirt track is simply not on my bucket list of things to do! I will take the plug-and-play convenience of tubeless rims any old day. Having said that, I don’t ride my Adventure bikes where you should go with plastic. Baviaans is as wild as I choose to go. The Honda has the edge on power and torque, but both bikes have more than enough go to satisfy. So, Triumph made the cut at the end of the deliberations. With 7,000 k’s on the clock, I can tell you a bit about Triumph ownership.

I bought my bike from my nearest dealer, Triumph in Hatfield, Pretoria. I have bought a few bikes over the years from Paul Kersten and have consistently enjoyed great professional service. I have also known Damian, the Dealer Principal, for years, so it was like visiting old buds for my new bike. It was a really great buying experience from a smart and attractive dealership. Oh yes, lest I forget, Damian is a Barista of note, the coffee is always top drawer.

I have enjoyed the Rally Pro from day one. I fitted a GIVI top box and GIVI panniers for touring convenience when Irene keeps me company. What we needed was a proper long trip for me to bond properly with the bike, and to see how the Triumph stacked up against my GIVI-equipped BMW R 1200 R, as our two-up touring bike of choice.

I have been overdue a visit to a good mate in Cape Town, so when BMW’s Lightning Bolt event at House of Machines was imminent I decided that this was a reason for a road trip. I chatted to Danie at BMW about a loan R 1250 RT, BMW’s Uber Tourer, as ideally, I wanted to tell an all-BMW story. As our departure date came closer, and with no word from BMW, I decided it was an excellent opportunity to test the Tiger properly in a touring role.

Irene suggested that we fly down, but I quickly reminded her that we are ZA Bikers! “No sweat”, she retorted, ”I’m up for it”. So it was that at 5 a.m. on a Thursday morning, we headed south out of Pretoria. We had a big day in the saddle planned. It was make-or-break for the Rally Pro two-up comfort test.

We were blessed with cool crisp weather as we sped south. With the cruise control set at 135 km/h, the Tiger growled along happily, devouring distance effortlessly. Bloemfontein and breakfast, then coffee in Colesburg and the Tiger was unfazed and we both still felt fresh. Our destination for the night was Victoria Bay, just outside George, where we stayed with an old friend and fellow biker Ian Wesson at his Guesthouse, Pier Plesier. I have categorically never experienced such an unimpeded sea view! Truly spectacular!

1264.5 k’s at an average of 113 km/h in 11.08 hours. What a day. Our route was through Graaff-Reinet and down the Langkloof, then down the magnificent Outeniqua Pass and into George. At one of four stop ‘n goes in the Free State, we passed 49 trucks nose to tail. Try that in your four-wheeled shopping basket! Tap down twice on the brilliant quick-shifter and let the Tiger off the leash. Bye-bye trucks. Irene was gobsmacked by the comfort of the Triumph, stating categorically that it was the most comfortable she has ever been on a bike.

The seat density is obviously spot on, but the kicker is the brilliant supple suspension. I dialled in preload to compensate for the two up and pannier loads, and then added a bit of rebound. The bike was incredibly comfortable and composed over all surfaces, as well as when enthusiastically strafing the mountain passes. You would never say that the Rally Pro runs a 21” front wheel. It steers with an accuracy that is amazing.

A planned fuel stop went awry, with empty pumps, so it was a bit of an economy run down a cold, at 12-degrees, Outeniqua pass. We rolled into George with zero fuel range indicated on the TFT display for over 20 k’s. Filling up showed that we still had 1,5 litres in the tank, despite 380 k’s on the trip meter. Dinner and a bottle of red was just the reward for a great day’s riding. Both Irene and I were smitten by our splendid Tiger. We relished the idea of cruising what was now a short hop to the fairest Cape of them all, down the scenic N2.

The splendid weather continued as we rolled out of George on Friday after a memorable stay at Pier Plesier. If you plan to travel to that area, try an overnight with Ian. You will be blown away! The comfort and setting are truly unparalleled. Our first stop was for breakfast at a wonderful farm stall just before Riversdal. A group of German Tourists on Harleys were nearing the end of a memorable SA tour. Chatting with them reminded me of what a splendid scenic country we live in.

The Western Cape leads the charge by a country mile when it comes to touring in SA. Superb, well-kept roads, clean and tidy towns and spectacularly beautiful scenery. Oh Lord, why can’t the rest of our land be like this? Forget the politics people. Vote for who gets the job done! Period. The Cape prospers while the rest of the country decays. Being on the N2, we did a quick detour through Gordon’s Bay along what must be one of the best drives on the planet. The fynbos bedecked mountain on your left as the road snakes and meanders along a pristine coastline. We stopped for our customary Flat White at Curbside Coffee’s roadside trailer and just soaked in the view. It was a good day to be in the Cape on a motorcycle.

We cruised into Cape Town at lunchtime and rode straight to House of Machines on Shortmarket Street in the city centre. What a cool and funky vibe. Cape Town sports some truly “interesting” people. Sitting and sipping on a cold one and watching the “show” is endlessly entertaining. We still had to get to my buddy in Kalk Bay so we were grateful to be on the Tiger as we negotiated the Cape Town traffic.

That Mountain with the flat top is ever so beautiful, but it played havoc with the poor town planners who had to lay out the network of roads. No sweat, you don’t want to live in CT (or anywhere else, for that matter) without owning a bike. Traversing Boyes Drive above Muizenburg with its magnificent sea views, we again revelled in the scenic splendour of it all. Catching up with Peter as we dined on a superb curry, washed down by the red that the Cape is renowned for, made for a marvellous evening to cap a splendid day.

The Lightening Bolt event kicked off at lunchtime on Saturday, so we could take our time, visiting the Waterfront for a Gelato before meandering into town to ogle the custom bikes on display at House of Machines. What followed was a great day and evening of bikes, music and refreshments.

BMW’s two events in conjunction with House of Machines, Head for the Hills at the splendid ADA facility in Hartebeespoort, and Lightning Bolt in the Mother City, have been great successes and hopefully will be repeated in the future. It is certainly something to diarise and not miss if possible. We rode back to Kalk Bay in the early evening. Cape Town was putting her best weather foot forward for us. Dinner at the Kalk Bay harbour capped another pearler of a day.

Sunday was another absolutely perfect weather Cape day. We cruised the Peninsula, stopping for breakfast in Simonstown before following the Argus cycle route past Smitswinkel, Scarborough, Kommetjie and over the incomparable Chapman’s Peak. It is a must for every motorcyclist visiting the Cape. If the weather plays ball you will experience one of the best days out and about ever.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, so Irene and I sadly said our goodbyes on Monday and got the Triumph growling along the N1. In the interest of time, we endured the shortest route home. We overnighted in Colesburg after a pleasant enough ride through the Karoo, which has a charm of its own. Its endless vistas make you feel small and insignificant. We stopped after Laingsburg for photos at an old Boer War blockhouse. Built to guard a railway bridge against marauding Boer commandos, it must have been a shock to the system of the British troops stationed there. Sadly some brain donor with no sense of the significance of our country’s history has seen fit to deface it with graffiti…we live in sad times indeed!

After the days we had smashed on the Rally Pro it was a short hop home. The traffic build-up at the stop ‘n goes was light, so they didn’t impede our progress much as we set the cruise control to 150 km/h and the Tiger revelled in the crisp and cool morning air. The t-plane crank and odd firing order makes the bike a bit more gruff than the silky 800 that it replaced. The plus is that it feels less “busy” than the previous motor. The low-frequency vibes felt through the bars are not intrusive, but rather compliment the character of what is truly a special bike.

We rolled into Pretoria before lunch after a memorable trip. The Triumph Tiger Rally Pro was put to the touring test properly and delivered over and above expectations. Washing the bike as I do after a trip, I was reminded of the amount of thought and design detail that makes the current crop of Triumph bikes so special. The main stand cross brace takes the strain from stones flung off the front tyre and becomes pitted and even rusty as the paint is sandblasted off. Typical of the Triumph attention to detail, there is a sleeve of rubber encasing the stay. When the small details have been addressed like that, it gives me total piece of mind in terms of how the rest of the bike is designed and screwed together.

The Tiger is an absolutely perfect blend of road function and off-road ability. It has a spread of talents that make it deeply satisfying in either role. 3,374 k’s later, at an average of 106 km/h and after 31,45 hours in the saddle, Triumph, take a bow! I am one very happy and satisfied owner! And Irene? She loved her time on the Pro. As they say, happy wife happy life!

Just a final word and shout out to GIVI. My Tiger has GIVI Trekker 33 panniers fitted. Typical of GIVI products, they work superbly. They fit securely and provide peace of mind that your kit will stay dry and clean irrespective of where you ride. They have an added feature in that you can open the top of the pannier without having to open the whole side and have the kit fall out. Between them and my GIVI top box, it was effortless to pack all my kit.

The top box has an elasticised cargo net over the top which is handy for rain suits or the like. The pannier brackets are cool for securing my soft luggage when doing off-road trips. The right bike and the right kit make for great road-tripping! Bring on December when I plan to introduce the Tiger to Botswana. I can’t wait.