You know, some of my most profound moments in life have been through being on the back of a motorcycle, riding through many amazing countries, none more so than South Africa. Being on a bike is completely different from being in a car doing the same thing, although that can be special too. It’s just that, on a motorcycle, you are so much more a part of the landscape: you feel the heat, you have a hundred different smells in your nostrils and you are interacting with – and relying on – the ground under your wheels every step of the way.

It’s a challenge and every challenge met and conquered is another feather in your cap; you’re never not feeling a level of fear – perhaps trepidation is a better word – but, later, you sit sipping a cold beer watching the sunset on another glorious day and look back over the kilometres with satisfaction and a huge sense of achievement.

There was a moment on this latest trip, when we sat atop ancient rocks at the top of a hill, watching the shadows lengthen over the vast landscape, stretching from the Limpopo River across the endless plains of Botswana at the end of another brilliant day, that a huge sense of peace came over me. The view was utterly mesmerising and beautiful and, not for the first time, I wondered how I was going to adjust when I returned to Johannesburg, let alone trying to describe it to friends who have never been there.

Maybe you don’t; you just encourage them to come and see it for themselves. It’s only when you live in a city such as Johannesburg and escape to the countryside that you really appreciate it; this is the real Africa. And the best thing is that, on a trip such as this, you are experiencing it with people who also appreciate it and that makes it all the more special.

The tour was arranged by John Gilbert and Heine Englebrecht of Tuli Tours Africa. The premise was simple; ride to Alldays in Limpopo and thence to Limpokwana Lodge, sitting on the banks of the Limpopo River or, as readers of a certain generation would know it, thanks to Rudyard Kipling, the “great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees.” From there, we would ride into Botswana for the day and back out, fully immersing ourselves in the landscape and, as it turned out, the heat which, even at the end of winter, topped out at 37 degrees! What must it be like in summer?

If I had been ill-confident about riding through the sand at the beginning of the weekend, by the end I was no less terrified but a lot more competent. It doesn’t faze me if I know the sand is there in front of me and I can prepare myself mentally before setting off from a standing start, but when it appears suddenly on a previously-firm dirt road along which you are travelling at 80-100 km/h; that’s when it properly unnerves me. Then, there’s no choice but to put into practice the mantra that every dirt rider intones – stand up, look up and open up. It turns out that it does work, as long as you’re not scared completely witless by the bike moving around underneath you in a seemingly uncontrollable series of snaking movements.

That I survived is a testament to the truth of the mantra; doesn’t mean I enjoyed it, though! What I did enjoy was riding through the incredibly dry but endlessly beautiful landscape in the Tuli Reserve in the south of Botswana.

Friday was spent getting to Limpokwana and the riverside bush camp, which is completely open to the wandering game; elephants and giraffes were spotted in abundance, as were plenty of bucks, and crocodiles and hippos were seen although, happily, the latter pair seldom venture into the camp or so I’m told! Sunday morning around 4 a.m. I found myself being woken by remarkably soft-stepping elephants right next to the tent. Don’t get that happening too often in Johannesburg!

Saturday morning, up and out early. Straight onto the dirt roads, all in very good condition. The border crossing through the Platjan Gate was quick and easy: just as well, as standing around waiting in the heat was getting unbearable, although the staff refused to be anything other than friendly and helpful even when faced with 15 sweaty riders.

Into Botswana and, as any seasoned traveller will tell you, it might be only a few hundred meters between one country and the next but the change is remarkable. It’s impossible to put a finger on the difference, but it’s there. The riding was no easier or worse, the heat was just as unbearable, the landscape just as vast and beautiful and yet, we knew we were in a different country.

Not that I had much time to reflect on that as the roads continued in much the same fashion, meaning attention really had to be on the road at all times. But that just made you stop and take a good look around more often.

The day continued hot and dusty but never dull. The group split, one bunch taking a more technical route, suitable for plastic bikes and the braver of the adventure bike riders, while the rest of us continued over an easier route to the gate into the Tuli Game reserve, through which one is allowed to ride. It was baking hot as we sat patiently awaiting the technical bunch, who had to navigate a very wide section of a completely dry river, the sand being thick and deep, delaying their progress a little.

So the miles rolled under our wheels and we stopped briefly to watch a large herd of elephants with several young in their numbers at a watering hole. The presence of the young caused us all to be wary as an angry matriarch is not something you want to be in front of. It was still magical to be sharing the land with the true natives and eventually, they wandered off, as did we.

Leaving Botswana through the Point Drift border post, the road turned back to tar, the prospect of the first of many beers swimming in our minds. Perhaps they were swimming too noisily for the road conditions, which could be fairly described as a series of potholes surrounded by a bit of road.

I’d lowered the tyre pressures on the Suzuki for the off-road riding and, to be honest, had not taken this fully into account as I navigated the slalom course that was this section of road. Predictably, one hole caught me out and I hit it a fair old whack with the front wheel. I thought I had got away with it but, a few kilometres further up the road – having just looked at the dashboard and, seeing the outside temperature gauge reading 37° and thinking to myself, ‘I wouldn’t want to have to stop here’ – I realised all was not right and pulled up. Sure enough: a flat tyre.

There are many facets of pleasure in such a trip. First, there is the countryside you are riding through – the key word being “ride”, with the sky as your ceiling and the horizon as your windows. But possibly the most important aspect is the company you are keeping whilst doing it.

It matters not that you know no one at the beginning of the weekend; within a few miles, you have formed a bond. At the end of the first day, you are firm friends. By the end of the weekend, you are a band of brothers and, in this case, sisters.

There’s another important aspect of this type of riding across this type of landscape. That is you can put your ego completely aside and never worry about admitting that you are in above your head and really need some help; someone will always put their hand up and help out. The same goes for when you hit trouble; you’ll never be left alone and, sure enough, soon the stricken Suzuki and I had plenty of company.

Now, here I must confess to being that worst of types: the journalist who always assumes that someone else will have the tools and expertise to mend what I have so carelessly managed to break. It’s a consequence of too many launches where all you have to do is hold up your hand, say sorry, and hope there’s another bike you can jump on to (there usually is!)

So it was that I was travelling completely ill-equipped to deal with the current situation. I had, in fact, brought a small tool roll with me but, having nowhere to carry it other than in my hydration pack, chose to leave it at the lodge. Mind you, there was not one tool in it that would have helped in the current situation so it turned out that the biggest tool on the motorcycle was myself…

Luckily, John had everything we needed and, in no time at all, the wheel was out and we attempted to change the inner tube (on the V-Strom 1050 DE the front wheel is tubed, the rear tubeless.)

Now, I don’t know how many of you have tried to do this in 37° heat, with a million flies around your head, on the side of the road with nothing more substantial than a couple of tyre levers but, well, it’s not all that easy. However, with many hands on board, we managed it, only to find that we’d pinched the new inner tube putting it in. The thought of trying it all again with a second spare tube was more than we could bear, so we flagged down a passing bakkie, threw the bike on the back and completed the journey to Alldays and the life-saving Clarky’s Pride bar. Never has a cold beer tasted so good.

The plan was to come back the next day, Sunday, collect the bike and take it back to the lodge where we could work on it at our leisure. John and I made it to Clarky’s with a trailer and…well, that’s where the plan went awry. We did look at the bike, honest, but, well, you know; it was hot, the bar refreshingly cool, as was the beer, so we settled down to discussing the problem at length and decided there really was nothing we could come up with that was better than leaving the bike there and picking it up on our way back out the next day. You’d be surprised how much beer that type of thought takes…

As it turned out, it was just as well that we did leave it. Unbeknown to us, we had bent one of the brake discs slightly while trying to break the bead of the tyre with the result that each time the wheel rotated, it knocked the calliper pistons back, meaning I would have had to pump the front brake every time I wanted to apply it. Not ideal.

Even though we had done no riding to speak of on Sunday, there was still one experience left to us; sundowners on a high peak, overlooking the camp, the Limpopo and the majesty of Botswana spreading out infinitely in front of us. The sun was setting, bathing the landscape in an orange-hued light, the shadows lengthening and nothing but peacefulness all around us. It was the perfect conclusion to a stunning weekend, full of variety, challenges, wildlife, landscapes, excellent food and drink, friendship, laughter and, perhaps most importantly, memories, not to mention a desire to get back here as soon as possible.

If, by any chance, you’ve always wanted to do a trip like this but somehow never got around to it, I can’t impress on you enough how essential to your well-being it will be, so go and do it now. Tuli Tours Africa runs tours throughout the year, John is the perfect tour leader/guide and there is not one bone in your body that will regret it.

The Bike

For this trip, I was fortunate enough to have the Suzuki V-Strom 1050 DE, the relatively newly-updated version, with a 21” front wheel, longer travel suspension and tweaked styling. As a card-carrying BMW GS fan, it was going to be interesting to see how the Suzuki would measure up.

The verdict? As far as my inadequate skills allow me to decide, the Suzuki does everything the BMW does, at a much lower cost. How does saving R100,000 sound? And that’s on a base R1300 GS, mind; start perusing the options list and there will be plenty you can add to that price.

The Suzuki might lose out on adaptive suspension and a few more of the largely extraneous electronic goodies but it has everything you need and loses very little you might miss. It comes with lean-sensitive ABS and traction control, both of which have multiple levels of intervention and both of which can be turned off (the ABS at the rear wheel only), cruise control and manually adjustable suspension.

Comfort is good, the engine is a torque-laden peach, there’s an up-and-down quick shifter, the TFT dash is clear and easy to read and, if Suzuki doesn’t know how to build a bulletproof motorcycle, I don’t know who does.

The only question you need to ask yourself is, what could I do with R100,000? Quite apart from that, the Suzuki is well worth a look and a test ride. We’ll publish a full report on the bike in due course.

Suzuki V-Strom 1050 DE

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

2026

Suzuki V-Strom 1050DE

Pricing From R261,250 (RRP)

Brand: Suzuki

They say, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step” (Lao Tzu). You don’t get to the 1000 without initiating the first. It’s that initial start that most of us find ever so difficult for anything we aim to accomplish in life.

In 2023, I had the privilege of covering the renowned Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride (DGR). In a nutshell, it is a prestigious globally acclaimed ride that takes place every May intending to raise funds towards prostate cancer research and raise awareness towards men’s mental health.

Having gone through several personal challenges, some of which I am still in recovery from today, it was a cause that remained close to my heart. Mainly because too often, after significant events, the core message and intended impact withers shortly after. This was a cause all too important to allow to succumb to such a reality.

For the 2024 Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride, I wanted to do something different, something bold.

“Take a ride from Pretoria to Cape Town, CBD to CBD and along the way, conduct impromptu interviews with bikers from all walks of life and capture their story of how biking has potentially and positively impacted their mental health.” Brilliant thought, brilliant idea Thabang! Except, at the time of this initial thought, I had no possession of a suitable motorbike to execute such a concept.

Eventually, at the beginning of 2024, I bought back my first love, Origin. A first-gen and may I add, super sleek Suzuki GSX 150 SF. I spent the next couple of months crunching the numbers and calculating fuel efficiency and ETAs. By my optimistic calculations, I could make it to Cape Town on approximately R1500 worth of fuel.

Sounds ridiculous, I know, but hear me out. The Suzuki GSX 150 SF has a 12L tank with an air-cooled engine. On a full tank, I comfortably and consistently got about 350 km with a pacy riding speed. What I jokingly like to think is that the route cause of its frugalness is that when Suzuki designed the ‘SF’, they developed its aerodynamics in the same wind tunnel that enhanced the performance of the Busa, GSX-R and MotoGP bikes. In essence, it’s designed not only to be ergonomically friendly and suitable for the rider but also to minimise wind drag and turbulence. Which in all honesty cannot be true, but let’s just go with it.

With a departure date set, the main priority now was the luggage setup and travel logistics. I knew my best bet would be to acquire side bags and install them along the frame adjacent to the passenger seat. Thanks to the Gixxer’s backend frame, this was the perfect compliment to Givi’s side bags with the main velcro straps attaching securely underneath the seat. For additional support and prime positioning, open loop straps were looped in and around the metal frame just above the passenger footpegs and through the smartly placed loops on the side bags themselves. Another rounded Givi bag was placed perpendicularly on the passenger seat for filming gear.

For efficient navigation, communication and much-needed entertainment, I fitted my helmet with an exceptional Bluetooth set from SENA, the SENA SF2 to be precise. Honestly, this gave me quite a bit of peace of mind knowing that I had sufficient battery life thanks to the kit’s brilliant usage time as well as standby time.

Before we take off, bear in mind that on average, I found myself in transit for seven and a half hours. That was the estimate Google Maps had provided for a car, and I was certain I could pull it off faster…” I’m on a bike”, I said to myself. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

At this point, in theory, I’m all set and ready to go. However, part of the logistical nightmare was the fact that I’d be embracing the road completely solo. Riding the Garden Route was an absolute must, most certainly after hearing endless tales about how scenic it is. On the other side of the coin, this meant that I would be looking at a total of 2300+km as opposed to the 1500+km had I chosen the inland Pretoria to Cape Town diagonal through Bloemfontein.

That’s 2300+km. Pretoria to Cape Town. One man. One bike. (A bike that is completely unsuited for such a trip.) No room for error. No mistakes. No ‘nada’. Over 4 days and 3 nights.

The plan was to make it to Cape Town by Friday afternoon:

• Tuesday – Depart from Pretoria (CBD) to arrive in Pinetown.
• Wednesday – Depart from Pinetown to arrive in East London.
• Thursday – Depart from East London to arrive in Knysna.
• Friday – Depart from Knysna to finally arrive in Cape Town CBD.

The night before…

The reality is, I was insanely nervous. I had not packed a single bag by 09:00 PM Monday night. My best mate and I spent time fitting rear brake pads, only to find out I was provided with the wrong set, unsuited for my 2015 model in particular. This added insult to injury, knowing now that I would have to do some running around on the day of departure to not only secure the correct brake pads but also find a workshop that could fit them right away.

Come Tuesday morning, even my family was convinced I wouldn’t be following through with this insane trip. I wasn’t either. The cross-road was, being bound by my word. Being bound by my commitment to my mates. Bound to the whole purpose of this ride, “The Rider’s Mental Health” short film. I knew I couldn’t back out no matter what.

By the time it was all said and done, and I hit the road, it was 16:45. It was at about 200 km in, that I genuinely felt it would really be okay to turn back and just try this whole thing another day you know? “Surely no one would blame me.” These are the real thoughts that hit you when you’re travelling at 100 km/h. “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” My mate had advised. It doesn’t help when you find yourself making absolutely no progress relative to the grander distance still needing to be covered.

It didn’t matter how often I checked and double-checked my ETA, it stated I would touchdown in Pinetown by 01:15, Wednesday morning. My comical optimism of beating the estimate had fully dissipated now. I journeyed on, toll gate after toll gate, paying around R269 (5 tolls) in toll fees altogether.

First challenge…

Note, I am most certainly not a seasoned traveller let alone a solo-traveller on a motorbike. I was advised to take backup bottles of oil, but I didn’t. I was advised to purchase emergency cables should the clutch or throttle cable snap, I completely forgot about that too. One major element I hadn’t factored in, was the total loaded weight and the effect it would have on fuel efficiency. Along the way, my fuel was near depletion and I was now in an area where the signal was terrible. In a panic, I stopped and checked for the nearest fueling station. I was prompted by Google Maps to take the next off-ramp and proceed for approximately 25 minutes up until which I would come across the fuel station.

Soon enough, the navigation led me to an unexpected dirt road. I knew something was wrong. In the midst of all of this, the night was dark and awfully quiet, with only a full moon in my company. I was content with calling it a night, pitching the tent up by the embankment, laying Origin on her side and catching some shut-eye. It really couldn’t have been any safer.

Unfortunately, time was ticking and I had to stay on schedule, well, at least as close to it as possible. I switched over to Waze navigation and established a new highly probable route to the next fueling station. Bearing in mind, if it was indeed wrong, I’d be left stranded.

Half an hour later, I can tell you, I downright nearly gave that petrol attendant a heck of a hug. One of the worst things I experienced throughout these lengthy hours on the road, was the sheer fatigue your body experiences, most especially in your legs. I often found myself sitting with half a butt cheek off the seat, MotoGP style, without the Marquez lean. Other times, I stood and stretched my legs out.

I eventually did come across a life-threatening situation. Regret was at an all-time high at this point and I genuinely feared for my life. Riding towards Pinetown I encountered a deep mist and fog. Most unfortunately, I wear spectacles. Now, I have mist coming onto my lenses as well as onto my helmet’s visor. No adequate street lights were illuminating the road. I could not discern how far I was to either road barriers, to my right or left. Quick thinking led me to catch up to the nearest truck up ahead, knowing he had far better visibility than what I was experiencing at that moment. I rode a couple of 100 metres behind it and aimed to remain bang-on central to his two brake lights.

I soon became accustomed to not trying to make or meet the estimated arrival times but to try and manage the bike and the journey as best as possible. I checked into Pinetown, my cousin’s place, at 01:19 and got some much-needed rest. I eased my Gixxer onto the dirt road and safely parked at one of the two-storey flats, typical of a motel you’d see in a movie.

Being fully rested and after a quick breakfast from the local Spar, I hit the road en route to East London. This was by far the longest stretch… An approximate distance of 625 km needed to be covered. It was the first time I saw double digits clock in for the estimated arrival time. Do consider, that there were a significant number of road works that led to 25-30 minute delays. But judging by the riding pleasure I had on them, they certainly were worth the wait. Nothing like being able to skip to the front and have a blitz run behind the ‘safety car’ leading you to the other side. Similarly, it was quite the experience when the GPS led me to test my bike’s off-roading capabilities after taking a detour that led me on a dirt road extending for 10 or so kilometres with no other cars in sight. I guess that’s what one gets when they are fully at the mercy of navigation systems in unfamiliar territories.

My biker brother Phiko (PK), who I’d met back in 2022 covering an M109R ride, was awaiting my arrival and gladly assisted me with accommodation for the night. With his assistance, I was blessed to be connected to an Airbnb owner who’d come out of his way to open up the units on the property and showed me to my pristine room.

I bid my farewells, took some additional content including a short clip with PK about “Why he rides” and hit the road. But before leaving East London, I called another biker bro who I’d met at the same event. Lucky. Upon pre-ride inspection, I realised very quickly that I was completely out of oil. I was running 10W-60 synthetic oil. Uncommon to the bike, where it typically runs on 10W-40. I had only made the change recently and just realised she was running so much better.

I popped through to Lucky’s workshop. His jaw was found on the floor when the realisation hit that I had been riding all the way from Pretoria with my little Gixxer. With laughs all around, “You’re crazy bra! On that thing. Nie man.” He sorted me out with an oil top-up. I went on to capture an impromptu interview with him and bid my farewell. I filled up the tank and the tyres, running 2.2 up front and 2.4 at the rear.

The sad part about how things were unfolding at this point, is that I simply underestimated how much travel time I’d succumb to. There was just not enough time to move around within these major cities themselves to get more interviews composed. Even more so, whenever I could, you’d find that my devices were low on battery.

One thing I can tell you though, I met some profoundly incredible people along the way. From acquaintances, fellow bikers, to petrol attendants, to the passerby stopping me after seeing the GP licence plate or even the unusual travel setup of the Gixxer. All throughout, I continued to spread the word about the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride high and low. It’s a cause that isn’t just limited to riders, just as how ill mental health doesn’t discriminate on gender.

We, as men, tend to have the heavier end of the stick. There’s just so much less support for us, so much less concern. It’s hard to be vulnerable and still be perceived as strong and respectable, more often than not it isn’t the case. It’s amazing and seldom praised how resilient we actually are. We forever make a way even where there seems to be no way. Our women turn to us not only for support but for leadership and guidance, even when we truthfully aren’t certain which direction to take ourselves, unbeknownst to them. “It’ll work out somehow, someway.” A mantra we live by.

By Thursday morning, before departing from East London, I actually had no idea where I would be staying that evening. I settled on Knysna after finding a backpacker accommodation that charged a mere R150 for the night. Naturally, there were various room options, so I decided on a mixed 6 bunker bedroom. I would highly recommend this backpacker, Island Vibe for any individual of any appropriate age.

Having clocked in at the backpacker around 20:30, I settled in. I greeted my fellow roommate, Lisa I think it was, and then soon found myself by the fire pit with a couple of gin and dry lemons. This was the one night where I intentionally took time to take it all in, taking inventory of the journey so far. I was at peace, the sort of peace that money cannot buy. A peace that is derived from within. Looking up at the clear night sky and a luminous full moon, I felt a smile stretch across my face.

It hit me that, in as much as I was technically ‘failing’ with the larger intended purpose of riding down the coastline and filming all these short interviews. I realised all of this was less about the road and time in transit, and more about the traveller. You can’t pour from an empty cup. In the end, we are far more effective and influential in our circles when we are somewhat ‘okay’. Three days into this crazy trip, on this moonlit night, it was crucial to take this pause to be present and sit with all these experiences flowing through my mind…

I woke up replenished, suffering only from a soft lingering echo from my roommate’s all-night snore. Another element that completely slipped my mind was the possibility of rain. I was officially on the fourth day and soon to start this final leg, and hence came the rain. This shifted the goal post target of arriving in CPT before 05:00 PM. I conducted the necessary pre-ride checks, and let Origin idle as I put on my full rain suit.

In the midst of all of this, I bumped into a curious stranger who was captivated by the bike idling outside. I have an Air Age full exhaust system from the legendary Jerry Anassis, so yes, it did have quite the sound echoing through. He was a fellow journalist, having covered many international stories and ones all throughout South Africa. We ended up speaking for nearly half an hour and he took such a liking to this crazy trip I was on and the greater purpose behind it.

The stretch from Knysna to Cape Town was breathtakingly beautiful. Every kilometre was such a joy, from the twisty roads along the beaches to the mountain passes. It was a tad humid but most certainly bearable. It’s hard to put into words what an experience it was travelling the Garden Route.

I arrived in Cape Town at exactly 16:45 and I couldn’t have been more overjoyed. I pushed a relentlessly hot pace from the jump knowing how much time I already lost from the morning rain. I actually made it. 2300+km later, a solo rider and his Gixxer 150 with some Givi side bags, central CBD to coastal CBD. What a win for the small cc category.

I spent the next week settling in, reaching out to a couple of different bikers and scheduling the last set of interviews.

I would love to extend a special thanks to Michael, Ruth, Joshua, Dylan and the crew at Triumph Motorcycles CPT. Simply for seeing the value behind my ‘crazy’ trip and supporting me all throughout. Another special thanks goes out to my fellow bikers who were an integral part of this trip and their heartfelt input to my deep line of questioning.

All in all, the film project didn’t go according to plan. However, I truly believe that “One man can change the world.” Similarly, “One man’s story can change the world.” If all I did this entire trip was capture one video that could potentially touch one individual and impact their life, then, in that sense—I and this trip were a large success.

I hope this video will resonate with you and I hope you will share it, even with just one person who you believe will be touched and inspired by it.

Thank you, ‘TK’ signing out.

“We never get to choose whether we live or die, we only get to choose whether we live BEFORE we die”- Konstantin Kisin

Pieter is a buddy of mine who runs a farm stall on the east side of Pretoria that Irene and I frequent. He and his wife Rochelle have two boys who are in the final throes of their studies. They have, as is the case with many families in a similar stage of life, been starved of the adventure that they crave, due to family priorities. I shared the story of my Tiddler Tour to Botswana with my son in December 2023. They kind of got a faraway look in their eyes and sort of muttered ‘if only’… This got me thinking. Both have motorcycle licences ‘from a previous life’ when scramblers were part of how they got their kicks. Before family happened; sound familiar?

“If I can organise bikes, would you be up for a Botswana trip” I asked. They responded like a couple drowning in the river of life who are suddenly thrown a lifeline. “Could you?” was their plaintive response. And so, the Botswana Boogie was born. Our route would include some good dirt but would be predominantly tar. So, what bikes? KMSA and Honda Wing SA to the rescue. A Kawasaki Versys 300 and a Honda NC 750X were locked and loaded for the trip. With the idea born in January, a date was set for July. The excitement was palpable as the time grew near. As we shared the idea with friends, the numbers increased. Steven on his KTM 1290 Adventure S was in, as was Leon, resting his trusty R 1250 GSA and commandeering his wife’s spanking new BMW R 1300 GS. My mate and fellow journo Brian, on his Honda CB 500 X was raring to go. Irene and I would be on our Triumph Tiger 900 Rally Pro. Most of the group were Botswana newbies, which is always thrilling for me. I love sharing Botswana with mates!

We met up early on a chilly Thursday morning at the Petroport just north of Pretoria. Pieter, with his dirtbike background, was at home on the Versys, whilst for Rochelle, it was love at first sight. She claimed the NC, loving the low seat height and DCT transmission. Her daily ride is a TVS Scooter, so the NC was a kind of natural progression in terms of how ridiculously easy it is to ride. Fully fuelled and bubbling over with anticipation of the adventure to come, we rode north. Vaalwater was our breakfast stop. We planned to get across the border at Martin’s Drift to overnight at Kwa Nokeng Lodge on the Botswana bank of the Limpopo—a 410k day. Eating a leisurely breakfast in a now comfortably warm 22 degrees, it quickly became apparent that we had a special group dynamic. Lighthearted banter amongst people who two hours previously were total strangers, is a real blessing. It boded well for the trip to come. My apprehension over how Pieter, and particularly Rochelle would adapt to long-distance touring on big bikes also soon evaporated. They both rode with good awareness and due restraint.

Crossing the border at Groblersbrug/Martin’s Drift is something of a lottery. The truck traffic is horrific and can cause a total snarl up given that the bridge over the Limpopo is one-way. Normal tourist traffic was light, so passport formalities were quick. We got over the bridge, danced on the foot and mouth disinfectant-impregnated sack, then rode our bikes through the similarly treated water to disinfect our tyres before repeating the border formalities on the Botswana side. Getting third-party insurance and paying Botswana road tax went reasonably quickly, and we rolled up to the lodge in the late afternoon. Sitting on the deck overlooking the Limpopo and sipping on our first St. Louis whilst shooting the breeze was rather pleasant.

There was some booking confusion, but we got it sorted and found ourselves in air-conditioned tents with en-suite amenities. A pleasant meal on the deck, then we were off to bed. We were grateful for warm beds for what was a properly chilly night. Up and about the next day the Triumph gave me an ‘Ice’ warning on the dash with the temperature hovering close to zero. We filled up with our first tank of less expensive Botswana petrol and rode a chilly 110 k’s to Palapye for a Wimpy breakfast before riding north to Francistown in now pleasantly warm weather. For me, Botswana proper starts when you see the first Makalani palm trees. About 30k’s before Nata they appear, and you know that the oasis that is Nata Lodge is not too far away. We pulled into Nata Lodge for the obligatory cold bevvie in 30-degree heat. Our thirsts slaked; we remounted the bikes for the very short ride to our accommodation at Pelican Lodge. Showered and refreshed, we enjoyed a meal under the Lapa. Pelican Lodge is showing signs of neglect despite an infrastructure that could be amazing if renovated. It seems that the owner has a new lodge in Chobe or Kasane and has lost interest in Pelican. Covid was seriously damaging to tourist-funded businesses.

Listening to the chat around the dinner table I noted that Botswana was slowly casting its spell on us all. The arid landscape, warm weather, endless blue skies and wide-open spaces conspire to bring a kind of peace to one’s soul. It is as far a cry as one can get from the hectic maelstrom that is modern city dwelling. Philosopher Henry David Thoreau, in his classic book ‘Walden’, his account of living alongside an isolated lake in the woods, made the statement that “until you take the hundreds of things that you have to consider every day and reduce them to ten’s, you will never truly understand the meaning of life”. Touring in remote areas like Botswana does that for me. The simplicity of it all just presses my reset button. I could see that we were shaking off our city-driven frenzy. It was a pleasantly weary crew that made their way to bed. There was an amazing new day awaiting us.

Unable to get accommodation at Elephant Sands, we settled for second best. We were up reasonably early and made our way to Nata Lodge for breakfast. A buffet breakfast at Nata Lodge is always special. After a hearty breakfast, we were back on the bikes for the short 58k hop to Elephant Sands. If you have read any of my Botswana stories you will know that Eli Sands inevitably features. It is a place where you experience wild African elephants in a totally unique way. Attracted by the fresh water pumped daily for their benefit they come in their droves. The sandy track from the main road to the lodge is not long but it can be properly challenging on a big adventure bike. Botswana had the driest rainy season in 40 years, resulting in the sand being pounded into fesh-fesh by the passage of vehicles. We all made it to the lodge without mishap and settled down to enjoy the pachyderm spectacle.

I love watching the first-time visitors to Elephant Sands. They gape in awe at the elephant interaction happening literally 5 metres away from them. We had an elephant patiently waiting its turn at the water trough standing so close to us we could almost reach out and touch it. There is clearly a pecking order or hierarchy amongst elephants. This is evident in the jostling and shoving that takes place as they come to drink. You can never tire of watching the elephant argy bargy. We spent the better part of the day relaxing over drinks and snacking and simply soaking it all in. At 3.30 pm we reluctantly took our leave of the incredible elephant show and got back on the bikes. Pieter and Rochelle were two-up on the Versys, sparing Rochelle a sand ordeal on the NC. The NC, with its low centre of gravity and torquey motor, is actually really easy to ride on loose surfaces, but it was not fair to expect Rochelle to wrestle it down a fesh-fesh goat track. We also had a bit more dirt in mind for later in the day.

An incredible natural feature of Botswana is the Makgadigadi pans. Sowa pan extends almost all the way from just north of Francistown all the way to Nata. The tar road running north out of Francistown runs parallel to the eastern edge of the pans. A visit to Botswana should, if possible, take in a visit to the pans. We planned to access Sowa Pan via Nata Sanctuary, about 10 k’s south of Nata Lodge. We got to the pans in the late afternoon and rode the 8 odd k’s to a lookout point. In the rainy season, this part of the pans is an inland sea dotted with thousands of pelicans and flamingos. The track was bone dry during our visit with only superficial sand in places, so it was reasonably easy to ride. We rode down onto the pans for some playtime.

Some lonely wildebeest kicked up dust as they crossed the dry pans, superimposed against a setting sun. Magic! We rode, brewed a coffee and just soaked in the magnificence of this special part of Africa. Steven let his big Katoom off the leash and flew across the pans. Leon was revelling in the nimble handling and potency of the BMW R 1300 GS. Brian had his Honda 500 X lined up for “that” shot. Pieter was in his element on the incredible little Kawi. It was the bike of choice on the dirt. In short, huge fun was had by all. We packed up and raced the setting sun as we flew down the whooped-out track back to the tar road. My Rally Pro impressed me to no end. Despite being two up and hanging on the cable it remained composed as it sang its offbeat three-cylinder song. 240 mm of Showa suspension works wonders in the dirt. We did dinner and welcome cold ones at Nata Lodge before retiring to Pelican for some well-earned sleep.

Our second last day was a short one, with a mere 180 k’s to Woodlands Camp just outside Francistown. Brian was feeling a little poorly so decided to meander there at his leisure. The rest of us opted for a cool suggestion by Steven. We rode 100 k’s to Planet Baobab, just before Gweta, for breakfast. In places, rather than keeping to the left of the road, we kept to what was left of the road. There were places where it was easier riding the dirt next to the potholed remnants of what was once a good tar road. Africa wins always! It was well worth the effort, as Planet Baobab is a special place. Laid out amongst a bunch of Baobab trees, it has an architecture that is unique but pure Africa. We had an excellent brekkie and then strolled around as the heat of the day mounted. After hydrating with a drink, we got on the bikes for the ride to Woodlands, where we rolled in with shadows lengthening. We had turned our 180 km day into a 380 km day.

Woodlands is a special place. It is well-managed and immaculately maintained. It is well worth the 8 k’s of decent dirt to get there. We stocked up on braai packs and drinks before making ourselves comfortable in our well-equipped chalets. We had the first decent fire of our trip. Listening to the banter and war stories around the braai I was reminded of how magically our group had gelled. Everyone was having a ball. Already talk was about our next Bots adventure. To the Okavango Delta perhaps? Typically, the trip seemed to have flown by, but many memories were in the making. It was a bunch of happy and content buddies that drifted off to bed as the last embers of our fire dulled.

Another perfect day dawned. Cold but crystal clear. We packed up and rode the short hop into Francistown for a Wimpy breakfast. By the time we got back on the bikes, it was comfortable riding weather. The sun had successfully beaten the early morning chill into submission. The A1 highway south can be boring and slow with all the villages that require that you slow down or risk fines, so 80 k’s out of Francistown I led the group to Selebe Pikwe at the top end of the Tuli block. It was now properly warm, so we stopped for a drink. The ride from here to the border is enjoyable, with minimum traffic and typical Botswana bush and occasional cattle posts. We filled up with our last less expensive Botswana petrol then completed our border formalities on the Botswana side in a jiffy. We then experienced the shambles of mismanagement that is a sad reflection of so much of Africa.

The completion of the bridge at Kasane now allows trucks to cross over from Zambia en-masse. Previously, the ferry drip-fed them into Botswana. These trucks, all South Africa-bound, have no regard for tourist vehicles and create a ‘truck jam’ on the South African side of the border which extends back over the bridge stopping all other vehicles from crossing. Trying to create a gap for us to get over the bridge, I walked across to see what was causing the mayhem. Speaking to a tourist waiting for a gap in the trucks on the bridge he shared that he had been stuck for two hours already as truck after truck from Botswana stopped any chance of any vehicles crossing from SA. I walked back to my bike, pulled it in front of the truck waiting to move onto the bridge and told the driver somewhat emphatically that he was going nowhere until we had crossed the bridge. Asking Botswana border officials why they did not manage the traffic over the bridge resulted in an “ask someone who cares” shrug.

Eventually, the trucks cleared the bridge, and we rode across. Asking an SA Immigration official why the situation was not managed elicited an aggressive “speak to the relevant authorities”. I reminded him that he was part of that authority, before walking away in disgust. What statement does this chaos make to tourists coming to South Africa? The answer is glaringly simple. Utilise Stockpoort border post, a mere 30 k’s away, as a trucking border and keep Groblersbrug for tourists and light commercial traffic. With our ailing economy, we need to do all we can to attract tourist money. I must stress that this was not a once-off occurrence but rather a recurring problem that we have experienced for years.

We shrugged off the frustration of the border post as we rode through the beautiful bushveld to our final night’s stay at De Kuile, 10 k’s before Lephalale. De Kuile is a typical ‘Hunter’s camp’, basic but comfortable. The short piece of dirt from the main road threw a few deep sand challenges, but we made it and while some settled in, Leon, Brian and I shot into Lephalale and bought the makings for gourmet Boerie rolls as well as some bevvies for the evening. By the time we got back a fire was roaring and Pieter was absolutely in his element. He fed the fire, sorted the coals and braaied the boerewors to perfection. The girls sorted the rolls and garnishes and before we knew it we were feasting on boerewors rolls of which legends are made!

Once again it was just so pleasant chilling at the “bushveld TV”. The wonderful way in which a bunch of virtual strangers could morph into tight travel buddies after a few days on the road was testimony to the great individuals that made up the group as well as the magic of motorcycles. Bikes unite people with a common interest in a truly unique way.

The next day saw us taking the ‘long’ way back to Vaalwater via the Thabazimbi road and then hanging a left to Vaalwater. This is 30 k’s longer, but a lovely road both scenically and surface-wise. We stopped at the Zeederburg Centre for breakfast and then reluctantly we said our goodbyes as inevitably ‘life’ started happening for all of us once again. Bring on the next one!

The bikes…

It would be remiss to conclude without an honourable mention of the bikes that made this adventure so special.

Kawasaki Versys 300

The little Kawi amazed everyone. Despite only having an engine capacity of three-quarters of a beer mug it kept up effortlessly. The little parallel twin runs at 75% of its available revs at highway speeds, but is smooth and comfortable, with the screen offering decent rider protection. Its light weight makes it a plaything in the dirt. It used no oil and ran like a… well, Kawasaki! Leon, who owns a BMW 310 GS, was gobsmacked by the little Kawi’s performance, as were we all. Huge adventure at a fraction of the price of big adventure bikes.

Honda NC 750 X

Within a day or two of throwing a leg over the DCT NC, I was totally hooked. The versatility and ease of riding that it brings to the party is in a class of one. The torquey relaxed motor, perfect ergonomics and 30km/L economy at Botswana speeds make it a pleasure to ride everywhere. The low centre of gravity keeps it stable on all surfaces. It is limited only by lowish ground clearance, so must be ridden with restraint when the going gets rough. I must own one. ‘Nuff said!

Honda CB 500 X

“I love this bike”, Brian shares with everyone who will listen, and with good reason. A handsome, tough, reliable and economical package that is probably the thinking man’s adventure bike or go-to choice for an around-the-world trip. Oh, and did I mention the amazing value proposition that it represents?

KTM 1290 Adventure S

Again, this is the thinking man’s 1290. At home on the street, where you can bait sportbikes, or roost a dirt trail, the big Katoom is hugely talented and never boring. Its 160 hp wrapped in a decent chassis has a way of getting and holding your attention.

BMW R 1300 GS

Damn! How is it that BMW just keeps making these things better? More power and torque in a smaller package is a certain recipe for success. The consummate all-rounder with enough electronic trickery to choke a mule. Where will it all end?

The People…

I asked Pieter, Rochelle and Brian, all Botswana newbies, what the trip meant to them.

Pieter:

“Botswana has always been a bucket list dream for Rochelle and me. When Dave mentioned the idea of a Botswana trip on bikes to us, I could immediately see the sparkle in her eyes and sensed a warm glow in her spirit. Something that sadly has been absent for a while…. for various reasons. I just knew then – this is something we just have to do.

So it was that we found ourselves in Dave’s garage the night before our trip, hanging on his every word as he explained the workings of the NC 750X and the Kawasaki Versys 300 to us. A change of plan. The Versys was just a bit too tall for Rochelle, so it would be her on the NC and I would be on the Versys. I must admit I looked longingly at the NC, but the little Versys would be my wheels.

Unfortunately, as with most great things in life, they pass in a flash, with not enough ‘pause time’ to take in all His amazing creation and moments given to us by God, our two-wheeled weapons were destroying the kilometres hour by hour. I had to pinch myself – this is real, this is so beautiful, THIS is life, this is friendship, this is love in various ways!

Staring into the red flames of our bushveld fire on the last night of our trip, a kind of deep sadness filled my heart. Our trip was nearing its end, soon to be only an unbelievable memory. I am saddened by the ‘why’- why not put more effort into doing the things we so enjoy and love? Why not pause and absorb more often? Why not make the effort more often to do the things that put the sparkle in our eyes and the glow in our souls?

New friends made – Irene, Brian, and Leon thank you so much you are awesome! And Steven, old friendships are like good red wine, they keep on getting better! Let’s keep stacking up the adventures. Thank you so much! Special thanks to Rochelle, my one and only ‘biker wife’, thank you for sharing the sparkle in your eyes and the glow in your soul. You made this trip a once-in-a-lifetime adventure! Thanks, Dave, for initiating and making this trip a true highlight and unforgettable experience.

And then, finally, my little travel buddy with a huge heart. My Kawasaki Versys 300 was amazing in all aspects. It showed that you can do anything on the right small bike with an affordable price tag. Somewhere, under 2300 km of African dust you may just find a hint of drool on the frame – that is how big a surprise the Kawasaki was to me. Slowing down the pace and savouring the moment might well have me considering a smaller bike…

Rochelle:

The bike: I absolutely fell in love with the Honda NC750 X and didn’t want to give it back! It was perfect for me with great handling and power for overtaking. 140 km/h on the highway felt effortless. The long sweeps freaked me out, but the NC gave me confidence.

The trip: It was beyond words! Flying (for the first time in my life) on a big bike to Vaalwater was an unforgettable rush. I felt so alive and exhilarated that I sometimes yelled out loud just to let my emotions out! (please don’t tell anyone). Our first night was more than I could have hoped for. I slept like a baby, tired out by all the excitement. Every day after that brought something new. I want to highlight the day at Elephant Sands. It felt like the rush was over and those beasts from the bush brought a calm that I can’t explain. None of us wanted to leave…. I felt small and insignificant (in a good way).

The group challenged me to try and stand on the bike occasionally while riding. This was great for the butt when I found out how easy it was! Next up was the unplanned 200 km detour to Planet Baobab. What a treat! Another place that we didn’t want to leave.

I got to know the other people in the group and we all just gelled. Everyone brought something to the table to make this the most memorable trip of my entire life. Thank you Dave for including us. It was one for the books. A personal bucket list item for me. As Steven would say – I experienced His Grace!

Brian:

It was a simple message. It simply read: “11th to 16th July. Botswana trip with guys from Pallet farm stall. You joining us hey?” It was more of a statement than a question. My reply was just as brief. A thumbs-up emoji, followed by “On my CB”. In a market where people yearn to buy the biggest and fastest, I found a perfect balance in my CB500X. Having already travelled to Lesotho, I was looking forward to exploring Botswana with it. Botswana is closer than Durban to my house, and yet, I have only ever passed through it on my way to Namibia. On this trip, I discovered that Botswana has so much more to offer, and if travelling halfway up was so rewarding, I can only imagine what treasures await when you venture further north. 2020 hit this country hard, and some establishments are still trying to recover, but the scenery makes up for it. Elephant Sands was a revelation. First that my CB 500 X can ride sand, even on road tyres, and then seeing the elephants up close, borders on magical. We spent way too little time on the pans, and this is one place I would love to return to. We merely scratched the surface of what you can experience in Botswana, and as Dave mentioned, we are already planning the next one.

If I learned one thing from this trip, it was that the size of your bike does not matter, but what does matter is the size of your appetite for adventure! This was a special trip with really special people that I will treasure for a long time. We will relive this trip one day next to a roaring fire and savouring a St Louis beer. That is a promise!

Conclusion…

So, there you have it guys. Reading this feedback is very humbling. I realised how blessed I have been to enjoy our special continent so many times from the saddle of a motorcycle. Maybe you have read this and realised that some saddle time is long overdue. Perhaps you need to buy that bike you have been pondering over. Don’t overthink it. Just do it!

There really is no better re-set button for a weary soul.

There was a moment, in what must have been our 100th off-road kilometre (or maybe it was only the fifth!), when I couldn’t stop laughing hysterically, simply because it was all so ridiculous. Here we were, tackling off-road routes that a lot of people would hesitate to attempt on their full-blown adventure bikes, on five bikes that are normally seen dodging through traffic in every main city and town in South Africa delivering takeaways or your shopping. We were subjecting these bikes to treatment way beyond what their manufacturers envisaged and not only were they handling it perfectly, but we were also having the best fun.

It’s funny how perceptions change. Thirty or forty years ago, a small-displacement motorcycle would have been the stuff of dreams for any red-blooded school kid and the bike sheds at every school were crammed with dozens of them every day of the week.

Fast forward to today and the only small-displacement motorcycles you see on the road are derisively classed as ‘delivery bikes’ and no self-respecting kid or grown-up motorcyclist would be seen dead on one. And this bothers me. Why are we so tolerant of other motorcycles but not these humble workhorses? Is there any way we might all be wrong and there is more to the Big Boys, Heros, Kidens and Bajajs than meets the eye?

Thus was born one of those brilliant (dumb?) ideas which have been known to pass through my mind at irregular intervals. The last one was to ride six twist-and-go scooters to Mozambique and back, really putting them through their paces. This time, we would conduct a thorough test of ‘delivery bikes’ by riding them from Johannesburg to Swaziland and back.

The idea was to prove once and for all that these bikes should be considered ‘real’ or ‘proper’ motorcycles capable of tackling more than the potholed roads of a city, and that a journey undertaken on them, preferably in company with equally mad friends, is not only possible but can also be fulfilling and a lot of fun to boot.

There was no intention of empirically proving which one was better or worse than the rest; that would be impossible. They all made it there and back, with no breakdowns or anything falling off and neither was one sorely lacking in performance when compared to the others. Even personal preference had to be ignored; as we found out, one rider’s favourite was another’s worst. No, this was merely to prove that you don’t need to spend hundreds of thousands to have a reasonable expectation of getting to your destination and home again, and nor does spending less impact the amount of fun you can have.

So, without further ado and in no particular order, these were the bikes chosen;

Big Boy Velocity 150

Perhaps the most populous model on the roads in the hands of delivery riders and also the least-expensive on this test, as well as being physically the smallest. To be honest, it looks and feels the cheapest but the performance matched the others km/h for km/h and it completed the 1,100km without a problem.

Bajaj Boxer BM150

Being one of India’s biggest automotive and motorcycle manufacturers, you’d expect Bajaj to have a good handle on making a motorcycle that was cost-effective and reliable and so it proved. The Bajaj Boxer had few frills but also gave the impression that it was all the better for it. A neat touch (shared with the Hero) was the fully-enclosed chain which was certainly a bonus on the dusty trails we found ourselves on. Unique in having a completely upside-down gearbox, with neutral at the top and then clicking down through the five gears.

Hero Eco 150

Possibly the most grown-up and accomplished model in this group (bar the Suzuki, see below), the Hero impressed due to the high quality of the overall fit and finish, while the engine was supremely smooth and very quiet – it was barely audible at tick over. It is difficult to think of any significant improvement that could be made. One of two bikes fitted with a top box, which was huge, sturdy and lockable.

Kiden KD125-J

The most modern in terms of design language of the four ‘cheapies’. The smallest engine here but it gave very little away in terms of performance over the 150s. The stepped seat does force the rider forward more than they might like for long journeys but there were no complaints about any other aspect of the bike.

Suzuki Gixxer 250

To be fair, the Suzuki was in a different class to the other bikes on this test; the Gixxer 150 would have been more appropriate, as well as coming in at a more equal R37,640, but one wasn’t available so the 250 it was. Leagues ahead of the competition not only in terms of its performance, which is impressive, but also in terms of its build-quality and appearance, which follows modern lines. It felt solid and Suzuki knows how to build reliability and style into its products.

What also has to be mentioned is the miserly fuel economy of all the bikes. Between 40 and 50mpg (22ish km/L) was always the consumption, no matter the riding conditions and this, with an average of 11-litre fuel tanks, gives an extremely useful 400-500km range. All bar the Suzuki had fuel taps with reserve position so there really is no excuse for running out. Even carrying a spare litre in a bottle would likely get you to civilisation in an emergency.

I’ll make no bones about it: this was a trip planned with close friends in attendance, the journey being the experience, not simply the destination, as much as it was with a point to prove about the bikes. There was, however, one simple element of the journey – and the bikes themselves – that was essential to our overall enjoyment and this was that our top speed was determined by the bikes themselves and not our personal skill levels.

Had we been on 1,000cc bikes, it would have been inevitable that some of us would have raced ahead, leaving others straggling. As it was, we experienced everything together and that was hugely important to our enjoyment of the journey. Cruising at 80-90km/h gave us time to enjoy the scenery we were riding through, to tackle all the difficult bits together and to arrive at each waypoint en masse, having experienced it at the same time.

Johannesburg was left behind at 6 a.m. on Thursday morning, the mind-mumblingly boring (and freezing cold before the sun came up) highway miles to the turn off the N14 to Carolina dispatched easily, as is every kilometre at the beginning of an adventure. The bikes soaked it all up without protest, as they did the many more kilometres towards Barberton, our chosen gateway into Swaziland (I can’t somehow bring myself to call it Eswatini!).

The plan had been to have lunch in Barberton and then cross into Swaziland to spend the night at Piggs Peak. Fate had other ideas. The R40 from Barberton climbs spectacularly into the mountains, twisting this way and that, with a new breathtaking view around every corner. Yes, the bikes lacked the urge to climb at any speed worth mentioning, but again, that didn’t matter.

What did matter were the semi-repaired potholes, one of which caught out the rider of the Big Boy; hitting a particularly sharp edge, both wheels cracked, letting out all the air quickly, resulting in rider and bike saying hello to the tarmac, fortunately without lasting damage to the rider. The Big Boy may have suffered twin cracked rims but the rest of the bike escaped remarkably unscathed.

After a lot of faffing around – inevitably, we had come to a premature halt in an area with little phone signal – we found ourselves back in Barberton for the night. Fountain Baths Guest Cottages (073 682 9380) provided rustic but comfortable accommodation at short notice and our host even mended the accident-damaged jeans, saving the rider’s blushes and saving us having to look at his bare arse for the rest of the weekend (I mean, who travels with only one pair of jeans, for both riding and evenings?)

The next morning, CM Motorcycles, the Big Boy dealer in Nelspruit (082 905 1833) went above and beyond and took two wheels off a Velocity 150 they had in stock and exchanged them for our damaged items in short order, so that we were back on the road by 10:30. We can’t thank them enough as they saved the whole trip.

This time Bulembu border post was reached without incident and we were through in no time at all, all the personnel on both the SA and Swaziland sides being exceedingly friendly and efficient, if a little bewildered at what exactly we were doing on such bikes. That was a theme along the whole route, with people not quite getting what we were doing, or why! Maybe the smiles on our faces went some way to explaining it?

Immediately through the border and the riding changed dramatically. Almost straight away, we were onto a dirt road, dropping down and rising up dramatically. That would have been no problem, but what made it ‘interesting’ was the surface on which we were riding, seemingly always on the steepest down- and uphills! It wasn’t sand; it was infinitely worse than that; there was zero grip and the surface moved like water; I think those in the know call it ‘fesh-fesh’. Whatever it’s called, it made life….interesting, should we say.

On a BMW GS or KTM Super Adventure, or any other 200kg-plus adventure bike, it would have been terrifying. On a delivery bike, it was merely nerve-shredding but also completely hilarious as we all slithered around barely in control but somehow remaining upright and pointing forwards. Well, most of the time…!

From that point onwards, we were rarely on tar – or so it seems in hindsight – as we wound ever deeper into this amazing country. We may have been only a few kilometres from SA, but it immediately felt different. Those who have visited this country will understand.

From Piggs Peak village, we headed south to Maguga Dam, pausing there for a much-needed beer overlooking the dam wall. The beer was the local Sibebe lager, which was appropriate as, from there, we were due to hook up with friends of one of our party, who have started a campsite at the top of Sibebe Rock, the second largest granite monolith in the world.

A lot more off-roading took us to our meeting point, from where we continued to climb up to the very top of the rock to Off-Track Eswatini, our destination.

The riding was spectacular, as were the views from the top; ‘breathtaking’ hardly captures it, as the vastly inadequate photographs attempt to show. I can imagine that it would be rather intimidating in bad weather but, in the sunshine that accompanied us, it was pure magic made all the more memorable by the ride up there.

Lest it might be thought that inviting bikes and 4x4s up there is to cause damage to the countryside, our guides were keen to point out to us that they are focussing on protecting the local flora and fauna and the camp shares an open boundary with the Sibebe Reserve. The 850 hectares of prime mountain range boasts indigenous forests and incredible veldt, perfect for riding and hiking.

The owners of the camp offer adventure riders full days exploring Swaziland, with warmth, food and hot showers when you return to camp, to sleep either in your own tent or in a rented tent. For more information, contact [email protected] or call them on +26 87 681 9191. You can also find them on Facebook and Instagram.

The rock might be only 10km from Mbabane, but our route down the mountain was just as spectacular as that going up and it took us a good hour to reach our overnight destination at Malandlelas Lifestyle Centre (+26 87 822 4489) and dinner at House On Fire. Never has a brandy and coke tasted so good!

Next morning, we rode for an hour to our next overnight stop at Bushbaby Lodge (+26 87 802 4736), set in the Nkonyeni Golf Estate. After the exertions of day one and two, it was good to have a day of relative rest and perform some maintenance on the bikes. Nothing had come loose and nothing had broken, chains needed adjusting and lubing, as did some of the drum brakes but that was it.

Later that afternoon, we went to Rider’s Ranch, home of the Swazi Rally, to watch and take part in some wonderfully eclectic local drag racing. Quite what the locals made of five grown-up men drag racing delivery bikes was not recorded but it was fun, all the same.

Sunday and the long trek home, via the Nerston border post; again, well kept, friendly and efficient, not to mention very quiet, so that we were in and out in minutes. As is always the case, the ride homeward through Ermelo, past Secunda and into Johannesburg South was pretty unbearable for the riders, but the bikes made no protest at being ridden with the throttle on the stop for hour after hour.

And that was the whole point of this extended test. These motorcycles may be inexpensive to buy, but there is no denying the stamina of all of them. If you can overcome the (misplaced) stigma of riding one of these every day, you will have a reliable and ridiculously cheap-to-run workhorse that will easily last you a good few years, if looked after. Even if they only last a couple of years, which is a very conservative estimate, spending between R17,000 and R25,000 for simple and efficient transport makes so much sense; you’d lose that much riding a brand new R200,000 bike out of the showroom! Factor in incredibly cheap servicing and spares and it’s hard to find an argument against them.

The other thing to remember is that they all have so much character; they’ll work their butts off without complaint and bring a smile to your face. Even should you choose to abuse them, they’ll still give good service. They’re perfect beginner’s bikes and, as we proved, make light work of any terrain you’d care to tackle. Yes, your 1,000cc+ adventure bike will be much faster and more comfortable over long distances but how often do you do those kinds of distances? Using one in the city for short journeys, where the engine will barely get warm, will wear it out much quicker, so why not let little faithful take that strain?

As for which one was the best well, as I said at the beginning, this wasn’t a test to decide the best; the idea was to prove that they are much more than merely workhorses with no redeeming qualities. I think we managed that.

Personally, I really liked the Hero but others found the seat too soft and the riding position a little awkward, while I found the same with some of the others. The Big Boy might have looked the least likely to make it through, but it did. The Bajaj was a close match for the Hero, while the Kiden had a nicely cheeky personality. The Suzuki might cost three times as much but R54k is still very little for an awful lot of motorcycle. Given all their attributes, it would be unfair to single anyone out as being ‘better’ than the others.

There was no one bike that we all found perfect but, by the same token, there was no bike that we all hated and there was certainly no bike that performed worse than the others. 1,100 incredibly varied and, at times, challenging kilometres (for both rider and machine) in four days provided us with the most incredible and, more importantly, fun experience, some brilliant memories and a renewed respect for these inexpensive motorcycles.

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

2023

Bajaj BOXER 150

Pricing From R22,450 (RRP)

Brand: Bajaj

2022

Big Boy Velocity 150

Pricing From R16,799 (RRP)

Brand: Big Boy

2026

Suzuki GIXXER 250

Pricing From R55,750 (RRP)

Brand: Suzuki

In mid-January, I reported that Volkswagen Group Africa was taking over as the importer of Ducati motorcycles into South Africa, effective from 2025. The benefits of multiple dealerships backed by a group with huge financial muscle are obvious. The question on the minds of South African Ducatisti is whether a ‘car brand’ can do justice to a brand infused with Italian passion, currently riding the crest of a world motorcycling wave. Any doubts that I personally had were emphatically put to bed when I was privileged enough to attend World Ducati Week (WDW) from the 26th to the 28th of July, at the iconic Misano World Circuit Marco Simonchelli near Cattolica on the northern Adriatic coastline of Italy.

I got to know Gherardo Morico, Ducati Motor Holdings representative for South Africa, whilst on a Ducati Mystery Tour which traversed the Western Cape. Our route took us through Meiringspoort near the little Karoo town of De Rust. It was early morning, and the road was still very quiet. Jos Matthysen, Gherardo and I got to strafe the sinuous road through the Poort at serious pace. Pulling into a rest spot at the end of the Poort and flushed with adrenaline, it was high fives all round. It came as no surprise that Gherardo can seriously pedal a Ducati.

I was thus super excited to get an invite from Gherardo at Ducati and VW Group Africa, to attend World Ducati Week in Italy. I gathered at OR Tambo with three other journos and two representatives from VW Group Africa. Thomas Milz, Director of Sales and Marketing, and Andile Dlamini, Head of Group Communications at Volkswagen Group Africa, hosted us on the trip. We were due to fly to Frankfurt, get a connecting flight to Bologna and then shuttle to Misano, check into our hotel and attend a welcome dinner at the Misano circuit. Well, some ‘Climate activists’, God bless them, had other plans. They glued themselves to the runway in Frankfort, forcing us to divert to Dusseldorf for a two-and-a-half-hour sojourn before, at last, flying back to Frankfurt. This hiccup saw the emergence of our very own ‘Fixer’.

Thomas, realising that connecting flights were a shambles, and unlikely to happen, rented cars and with Andile hanging in his slipstream for dear life, drove us to Munich 400 k’s away, where we caught a flight to a balmy Bologna in the north of Italy. Whilst we lost our first day at WDW, we gained a stunning drive through Germany with numerous quaint villages and a blast on the Autobahn. I travelled in the car with Thomas and during the drive got some valuable insights into Volkswagen Group Africa’s plans regarding their new Ducati venture. It was 1:30 AM by the time we arrived at our hotel, courtesy of some selfish “gomgatte”. What these protesters don’t seem to realise is that it is not the affluent West that is the problem, but rather the poverty-stricken workers in the East, who find survival more pressing than climate change issues.

Listening to Thomas, who has worked all over the world for the VW Group, it was very apparent that Ducati is poised for something special in SA. Whilst Thomas does not currently own a bike, he has in the past before being sent all over the globe by VW. He totally gets the passion and potential for Ducati in South Africa. The plan is for three initial dealers. World of Motorcycles in Gauteng, the current bespoke dealership, a dealer already identified in Cape Town, and a third in Durban. A National Sales Manager for Ducati will be recruited from within the motorcycle industry. The overall operation will be led from the Volkswagen Group Africa’s Sandton office, overseen by Thomas. To quote a bit of Star Wars, “the Force is strong with this one”. I called Thomas ‘the Fixer’ after watching him operate. This is a man who gets things done and doesn’t, in a just cause, take no for an answer. He plans to leverage all the vast VW Africa Group experience, expertise, structures and resources to support the Ducati effort. Ducati’s future in South Africa is burning brighter than ever. In my opinion, they have the right man at the helm, no question!

We were bubbling over with excitement and anticipation at breakfast. Earlier, at 1:30 AM, traversing a still-warm Cattolica on the way to our hotel, the streets were still alive with Ducatisti frequenting pavement cafés. Bikes lined every street and Ducati Corse banners adorned most of the buildings. A palpable air of excitement was all-pervasive. We were raring to get to Misano and just soak it all in. We got to the circuit, sorted out our Press accreditation and went straight into a press conference featuring all the Ducati MotoGP, WSBK and Motocross team riders. Seeing Pecco Bagnaia and Enea Bastianini, Ducati’s MotoGP stars in the flesh was really special. I mugged poor Pecco when he came out of the toilet post-conference, and he kindly autographed my Ducati Arai, brought all the way just for that purpose.

Misano was awash with Ducati’s of every description. There was a sea of red motorcycles in every direction. The race transporters of all the Ducati riders in MotoGP, WSBK and British Superbikes were lined up in front of the pits. The Media room is located above the pits and thankfully air-conditioned as the temperature was hovering in the mid-30s. On the roof of the pits was a chill zone for Media and guests with refreshments. Brian Cheyne and I grabbed our cameras and went walkabout, just soaking it all in. There was a constant rumble of high-performance V-Twins and V-Fours, as more and more Bologna Bullets arrived for the spectacle unfolding before our eyes. The whole weekend proved to be a sensory overload for anyone who has a pulse and enjoys motorcycles.

Gherardo went out of his way to make our visit special. He arranged for the lead engineer on the new Panigale to brief us on the bike as, thanks to the climate terrorists, we had missed the official briefing. The bike is not a tweaked version of the previous model but rather a totally re-engineered motorcycle. The double-sided swingarm is the obvious feature but every area has received attention. The motor is more powerful and 1,4 kg lighter. The brakes are linked, engaging the back brake for stability under heavy braking. The electronics are upgraded to what is currently probably state-of-the-art. The seat is wider and longer to improve the ergonomics. A larger TFT display gives feedback on all the vital information required to get the most from the bike. It really is a total revamp.

Feedback from the professional riders is that it is amazingly MotoGP-like in the way it works. With slicks and race Akropovics fitted, the bike was lapping, in the hands of the superstars, an incredible 1,5 seconds off WSBK times at Misano, and only 5 seconds off MotoGP times. Mind-boggling! More than ever, it is the rider’s ability that is the limiting factor rather than the bike. This new Panigale is quite simply next level!

We had a tour of a facility paying tribute to the 916, still considered by many as the most beautiful sports motorcycle ever. It was brilliant to see the bikes that WSBK greats like Carl Fogarty, Troy Corser and Troy Bayliss dominated on. From there we met the engineer backing the Motorcross dirt bike project. The bikes look fantastic. Lupini is currently leading the Italian 450 Motocross class on one. Rather than just make crazy power, which Ducati is so capable of, they have focussed on competitive, usable power in a lightweight package. Suspension is Showa. By the middle of next year, we will see the beginning of a range of Ducati dirt bikes on dealers’ floors. It seems to be no-holds-barred with Ducati at the moment! We saw, but could not photograph or touch, some bikes customised by the factory to absolute works of two-wheeled art. Incredible! Needless to say not even selling a kidney would enable me to own such an eye-wateringly expensive beast!

Ducati merch was on sale (if you had the stomach for standing in a lengthy queue) and I am sure that they printed money! In addition, there were theme tents, like Travel and Adventure, Tech Village and so on, all paying homage to aspects of the Ducati brand. It was special just meandering around and ogling the bikes and their owners. Ducatisti come in all shapes and sizes. What impressed me was how many young riders are attracted to what is a premier brand. We need to get our act together and get a life! We live in a country with incredible weather and more than enough roads to really enjoy motorcycling. Bikes are affordable in that you can buy a real soul mover for less than the price of a boring little family car. Rather than being a two-car family, have a car and a bike. You will open a whole new world of pleasure for yourself. Don’t fall for the lie that it is so dangerous. I have ridden daily for over 50 years and have never had an altercation with a car. Do a riding course to acquire riding skills, and ride with good awareness and some restraint and much joy awaits. Italians embrace life in every way, and bikes, with Ducati in particular, are a huge part of that lifestyle.

An optional beach party was planned for the Friday evening. We were having dinner at an outdoor spot when a solid phalanx of Ducatis rolled past us on their way to the beach. The stream of bikes seemed endless. Riding four abreast, they thundered past for nigh on a full seven minutes. The official tally for attendees over the weekend was in the order of 94,000 Ducati fans. After dinner, Brian, Ian and I strolled down to the beachfront to watch the sunset, which in Italy at this time of year is around 8:30 PM. The sunset was spectacular, with the orange orb of the sun reddening the sky over the point where the ocean lapped gently onto the shoreline. There are no waves to speak of on this part of the Adriatic coastline. I was still feeling the effects of our first very long day of travel, so I took my leave, and went back to our hotel and into bed, so as to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on the morrow.

We thought that Friday was hectic at Misano until we experienced Saturday. We got stuck in a traffic jam of bikes entering the circuit. It was very entertaining watching enthusiasts of all shapes and sizes ride past on their Ducs. Interestingly, most Italians seem to be in good shape, with only the occasional rotund guy or girl. There were a fair number of ladies on their own bikes, and courtesy of the very warm weather, many were far from overdressed.

Italian ladies are certainly not hard on the eye! The circuit was absolutely jam-packed with bikes. The talk of the day was the Race of Champions, scheduled for the late afternoon. Ducati’s MotoGP, WSBK and British Superbike stars were going to go toe to toe on a ten-lap race around Misano. They would all be riding identical new Panigales with Akro pipes and slicks.

The teams representing the riders all had dedicated pits and from time to time their riders would put in an appearance to sign autographs. It was clear to me why Ducati contracted Marc Marques to their factory MotoGP team for 2025, despite Jorge Martin perhaps being more deserving of the factory ride based on performance. Marques and Bagnaia had by far the most supporters clamouring for their autographs. Fans literally stood for hours outside their race vans in the hope of a signature, or even just a glimpse, of their heroes. It was heart-warming to watch a young fan, sitting on his dad’s shoulders, shouting for Alex Marques’s attention. Alex motioned for the dad to pass the little mite to him, whereupon he plonked him down on his race bike. With the little fellow stretching to reach the handlebars, Alex took photos of him before returning the beaming boy to his dad. Alex comes across as a really nice guy.

Burly team members surround Bagnaia and Marques to stop exuberant fans from flattening them when they traverse any public space. Isn’t the world strange? You dream of their type of success, forgetting that you pay dearly for that fame in so many ways. The stars are, to a degree, owned by their fans. Alex and Marc went trackside to watch the stunt show, only to again be swamped by fans who had trackside access. They posed with fans taking selfies until they gave up spectating and returned to their pits and peace. It makes for a lonely existence amongst all the adulation.

The Race of Champions is a bit of a quandary for the participants. On the one hand, their egos are on display, and they are racers through and through. On the other hand, sensibility must prevail. The cost of suffering an injury in a race that actually counts for nothing in the big scheme of things should make it a bit of a procession, but that is not how these guys are wired. Iannone was on pole, with Bagnaia second, Nicolo Bulega third, and Marc Marques fourth.

Bagnaia assumed the lead off the line and held it to the end. Iannone slotted into second for the duration. The drama came unsurprisingly from Marc. Closing 1,4 seconds on third-placed Bulega on the last two laps saw him go for it on the brakes into the last corner, punting Bulega unceremoniously into the gravel, and sneaking onto the last podium position. It all made for quite a spectacle, with the real winner in my eyes being the superb new Panigale. We made our way, rather hot and bothered, back to our hotel for a welcome shower, before another extremely pleasant dinner at a typical Italian outdoor eatery. For us, World Ducati Week was over as we had to drive back to Bologna the next day for the first of our flights home. There was still a biggie to look forward to, however.

The Ducati factory on Borgo Panigale in Bologna is a facility steeped in the rich history of this magnificent Italian motorcycle. Fittingly, it houses the Ducati motorcycle museum. Ducati was founded on 4th July 1926 by Father Antonio and sons Adriano, Bruno and Marcello Ducati as Societa Scientifica Radiobrevetti Ducati, to produce radio components. Essentially bombed out of production during WWII, it was in 1950 that Ducati started building motorcycles. A 48 cc little chap with a 64 km/h top speed. From these humble beginnings grew the company that we know. Today Ducati is owned by Lamborghini, which in turn is owned by Audi. Follow up that family tree and you get to the Volkswagen Group. So perhaps in South Africa, Ducati has at last come home. Interestingly, all the vehicles produced by a manufacturer are measured for their carbon footprint in the strict EU environmental compliance regime. By pooling Ducati’s low emissions with the higher emissions of Lamborghinis, they lower the overall emissions to the extent that they pass without attracting hefty fines. That is a seriously clever business strategy. When you consider that the Volkswagen group owns Porsche, Bugatti and Bentley too, you start to understand what an absolutely massive motoring conglomerate it is.

Strolling through the Museum was such a pleasure. The museum was a little island of air-conditioned cool on a sweltering 42-degree Celsius Bologna day. The bikes on display plot the history of Ducati over the ages, to the dominant force which it is today. It also emphasises the role that their desmodromic valve system has played in the success of their past, as well as current engines. Bikes like Bruno Spaggiari’s Imola winning 750 Super Sport, Mike Hailwood’s Isle of Man winning Desmo and Pecco Bagnaia’s 2022 Championship-winning bike give you goosebumps. Seeing the clean lines of the Desmosedici to the intricate aero on the latest bikes is food for thought. The tech just marches on inexorably! The cockpit of a modern MotoGP bike is a hive of complexity. Launch control, ride height device actuators, thumb brake lever, mode buttons and more, it is mind-boggling.

And so, our amazing World Ducati Week experience drew to a close. I have given you an account, but I have no words to truly capture the excitement and raw passion that this iconic brand and its riders generate. We received red T-shirts emblazoned with the words – “We are the red family” – “All in One”…never a truer word was spoken! A huge shout out to Ducati and Volkswagen Group Africa, and in particular Gherardo, Thomas and Andile for making this a true trip of a lifetime. It is a memory that I will always truly treasure. I wish you the greatest success in your new South African Ducati venture. May it flourish and grow from strength to strength! As for you, dear reader, why not consider joining the Red Family? The next World Ducati Week is in 2026. Start saving now! Enjoy the photo gallery, it will convey the experience better than any words could ever do!

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