My Baviaanskloof Adventure

In the last month I have ticked off two items on my bucket list, personal achievements which brought with them a range of experiences and lessons I had not thought of when I placed them on that list. In this blog I will explore the first of these experiences as I learn to challenge my limiting thoughts and accept what is as being perfect.

When I started cycling I set the goal of riding the Baviaanskloof. I set this goal for when I reached my ideal weight, the what-to-do idea was inspired from another person’s bike adventure holiday and the place was likely inspired by an article I read in the GO magazine- or so I thought. Yet at the end of my Baviaans adventure I stand amazed that none of those reasons held the real truth in the light of the greater organising wonder of the universe. Hence at the end of it all it was an amazingly different experience to the one I had intended.


My Baviaans Adventure
I had designated that by April 2010 I would be at my ideal weight, hence my Baviaans adventure was planned accordingly. As I started to ride in preparation for this adventure I shared my idea with a local bike shop owner in Port Alfred, who in turn offered to get a few guys together so we could do it as a group. This solved the organisation, technical and doing it alone problem all in one. I spoke to experienced riders as well as repeatedly searched the internet about cycling in the Baviaans. This got me all the more excited as this would be a real physical challenge. I eagerly shared this information with the bike shop owner, who dutifully kept promising that he will make work of the trip. I dutifully did my base training programme, kept an eye on my weight loss and got my bike spec’ed for an adventure. Long story short he did not keep up his side leaving me holding what I thought was an empty bucket.


Realising if I wanted to make this adventure happen I will need to do it myself I Googled my regular phrase for MTB trips in the Baviaanskloof. This should have given me the usual list in which I expected to see one of the bike trip organisers I had considered contacting before. However, on this Monday there was a new page which I had not notice during my pervious searches. The page contained in great detail a five day trip through the Baviaans which I could follow on my three maps. More importantly they offered special tours. I called the Bo-Kloof guest farm, number. A friendly voice answered, I explained the reason for my call enthusiastically, she noted that it was an old page and they do not really offer these services anymore, but she will talk to her husband and come back to me.


In the meantime the “others” who would be interested in doing the trip vaporised leaving me alone. With some further negotiations Bo-Kloof would make arrangements for me to do the Baviaans on my own. This however meant I could not cycle through to Patensie. A compromise I was prepared to accept.


As I started to pack all the stuff I would need to tackle the mother of all climbs (MAC) to get to my end point, Bergplaas, I could not help but start thinking of my father. Some of my strongest memories of him were when the two of us would do things together without the rest of the family, like going to a farm in the Baviaans. I can remember him and me travelling down a strange road just wide enough for a single car and having to pull to the side to allow Peugeot bakkies to pass us. But perhaps the most enduring memory was how dark and cold the old farmhouse was in its mountains shadow and that very cold morning bath in the outside bathroom with its wood fired copper geyser.


This was not the first time I recalled that trip with my dad but it was perhaps the first time I felt the need to reconnect with something I did with my father more than 30 years ago. I called my sister and got her onto the task of finding out what the connection was between our family and that farm. What was its name and who was the man we went to see there. 

Wednesday heralded the start to my adventure. Cannon Rocks put on her morning best filling the sky with beautiful pastel colours. I set my GPS to Steytlerville and headed out on a slow drive. 

As I drove I wondered at and photographed the beautiful scenery around me like the blue sky offsetting the rolling green hills which not a month earlier had been so brown and lifeless in the draught. As these green coastal hills gave way to the Karroo landscape with its abundant space, my thoughts quieted down further and I could increasing observe the different splendours around. 

Road works became an opportunity to see things and people at the side of the road you would never observe speeding by. Smiling colourful road workers, the beauty of the grass plumes or the way the green trees framed distant purple mountains- it all became experiences which evoked a deepening sense of being present. I felt spoken to, I felt privileged, I felt grateful, I felt at peace. It was dawning on me that this adventure was not going to be simply about my bike ride.

I reach the first area town of Steytlerville, a town seemingly trying to connect the past and present through flags. After grabbing a chocolate Steri Stumpie to feed my inner child and an update to my SMS trackers, I headed out of Steytlerville down a seemingly endless Karroo road. Then I notice the narrow road, yield to oncoming traffic sign. I laughed reflectively, the narrow one lane road. I stopped. 

In front of me the deep blue sky polished with wisps of white clouds made the little white road pop as it invited one to see what was around the corner in this beautiful Karroo landscape that stretched in front of me. I sensed a closeness to my father, not a longing or an absence, just a kind of kinship.


Passing Willowmore, the second area town, I turned off the main and headed down the T1 into the Baviaanskloof. Signs warned of the road conditions beyond the Wilderness area. I stopped and entered the GPS co-ordinates for the Bo-Kloof Guest Farm some 71 kilometres down the road. I set off with a massive mauve dust cloud bellowing from behind my city slicker car.


Like the little white road outside Steytlerville, the T1 slowly beckons you into the kloof through turn after turn leaving one to wonder when the kloof will appear . Eventually the rather perplexing Nuwe Kloof sign flashes by, what is so new about this kloof one wonders? 

Then as if to say, now stop and look, the shear face of the majestic Nuwe Kloof confronts you. I slowly steer my way through the Nuwe Kloof, its coppery gold rock walls rising from the narrow strip of dirt road, enveloping you, making you feel distinctly small.

Outside the Nuwe Kloof more farm land and the presence of two old rusting Ford Prefects. As if to remind me of my own modern vulnerability, a ping comes from my dashboard as the fuel light comes on. I had forgotten to fill the car in Willowmore, too late to turn back I must push through to Bo-Kloof and make a plan for fuel there. I smile thinking to myself, in the voice of Warf the Klingon, this might still be a good day to ride my bike after all. Of course Warf thought it was a good day to die in his battle with the Borg queen, I had no intentions of dying for any queen.


I push through passing farm houses and more spectacular mountain faces than can be absorbed driving.


Keeping a keen eye on my kilometres left calculation display, the GPS and my right foot I arrive at Bo-Kloof guest farm. I greet the farmer, pull in my car and meet his wife the friendly voice on the phone. The accommodation is basic, honest, pure farm. I cannot help but to think of Nico’s parents farm and the many weekends spent there. I feel at home, connected in some way. I’m strangely grateful I’m not spending the night in one of those picturesque guest houses I saw online.


When I made the arrangements I was encouraged by my host to come early so I could hike their kloof. What I did not know was that my guide to the kloof would be Skollie the dog. At first I did not take the comment seriously when I was told Skollie would show me the way, but at the same time I was a bit embarrassed to say, right, no really who will go with me? Part embarrassed and part intrigued by the idea of Skollie as a guide dog I walked up to him and said, are you coming, to which he responded by walking towards the gate I was told leads to the kloof.

Skollie is, as it turns out, a well documented celebrity guide dog. He has been the subject of several articles and from my experience a deserving celebrity as he led me deeper and deeper into the kloof. Skollie’s skills at showing me where to walk and waiting for me to catch up aside, he gave me the opportunity to explore the kloof without the need for an outer dialogue with a human guide or group- there was no need to think I could just observe the beautiful kloof around me.

Deep in the kloof with the sound of water unseen running somewhere I sat upon a large boulder. I reflected on the past couple of months, my journey to this point and the promise of a new relationship I had left in Pretoria. The peace I felt deepened and the bike ride seemed to become far less important than what it had been in the last couple of days. I opened the door to something new.


A wonderful farm supper with saucy pumpkin fritters and home-made bread had me beaming with contentment despite the nerves for the next day. Breakfast at 6 and the start of my ride at 6:30 lay ahead.

My iPhone reminded me that I was already awake at 4:30. I milled around packing my double checked piles into my Camel Bak. The arrival of breakfast sped things up and before long I stood ready for my first photos.


It was cold as I took the short road to the main gate and the T1, turning left towards my end destination, Bergplaas. I had planned that the first 20 kilometres should be at slow pace so I could warm up properly and conserve my strengths for the MAC, but it was teeth clattering cold and I upped the pace.


As is the nature of the Baviaans there are many corners hiding many surprises. And so it was that not to long after setting out I came to my first low water bridge, with water flowing over it. I slowly pedalled my way through- nice and dry. A few hundred meters further another, but this time the water was deeper, deep enough for my feet to go under the water. Now my feet were freezing, I laughed as I said to myself not for the first time in this trip, well it is an adventure you know!

About an hour in I was desperate for the sun which by now I knew must be up, but hidden by the steep mountain sides to either side of me. My escort 4x4 passed me for the first time, I gave the thumbs up, and soldiered on passing colourful locals and their donkeys. The cold started to lift as I passed the tidiest police station in South Africa- apparently the title is official and clearly deserved. I was nearing the Wilderness area where I would stop for my first short chat with the farmer and his father in-law. They turned out to be keen conservationists who while talking to me picked out a leopard spoor in the sand right next to us not even 10 meters from the Wilderness gate.

The farm roads gave way to what I imagine would be termed a jeep track. The ride started to go through tunnel-like sections with Woody Cape like forests with low water bridges. These tunnels were wonderful rest bites from the sun and riding through the water started to become a welcome feature of the trip.

I reached the first of the two fangs that signal the start of the MAC 50 kilometres into my ride. I feel strong and tackle Graskop with reserves. On my way up I need to stand aside for a 4x4 to pass on the narrow road. A merry couple looking to be of a retired disposition greet me and ask how far I’m going. All the way to Bergplaas I respond to which they seem thrilled and wish me the best of luck.


At the top of Graskop I meet up with my support vehicle. Stretched before me are steep green mountains- I cannot spot the end point from up here. The farmer points to the bottom of the gorge next to us and follows with his finger a thin strip up a far mountain informing me that that is where the road travels before I get to the next pass.

The road down is fast, the dual suspension is working hard to keep up as I apply all my “technical skills”, significantly improved through the adrenalin boost due to the lack of guard rails next to the track. Thank god for my Fountains and Groenkloof club rides! At the bottom of what felt like a seconds worth of riding my legs are aching from crouching to allow the bike to jockey beneath me. I realise that up is the easy part it is the down that can kill your legs.


Approaching the second fang I come to a river crossing to find a group of motor bikers on a tour. Mounted on one biker’s helmet is a video camera, which rather comically recorded the ill-fated crossing of the last rider who seem to make a professional assessment of the conditions before stalling in the middle of the stream. As they sped on I felt pity for these bikers. I wondered if the camera was needed to record the beautiful scenery as they sped by so they could later watch it on a DVD in HD. That is what I love about my bike, not only does it require me to form part of its efforts to climb through the kloof, but it also slows me down to breath in the beauty around me. It creates space in my life.


The second fang was shorter than the first but hellishly steep. My back tire was loosing grip at times over the gravel which demanded a higher leg killing gearing to prevent me stalling over the larger rocks in the road. Stalling and falling was not an option as the road was narrow and the gorge next to me seemed to disappear somewhere far below. My heart rate was spiking at 95%, but I could not stop. A small plateau lay ahead I dug deep and pressed on. After waiting for my heart rate to recover in the shade of a small bush I pressed on to the top. A second long rough downhill jockey did not help my legs recover. The easy riding was over.

The third climb was simply a long seemingly never-ending up, which gracefully was hidden by various corners and bushes. Half way up another 4x4 with a father and son is heading in the same direction. They ask me if I’m the guy ridding all the way up and if I need anything. I am and no thanks I’m fine. Friendly bunch of people on this trip I think to myself but how did they know about me?

My bottle of Octane is nearly empty, I’ve switched to Engergade jellie babies. I can feel my energy is falling fast but with a newly filled Camel Bak I can afford the water need to get these babies absorbed. But my planning seems flawed and as the climb starts to become more flat my legs are not strong and I’m mentally tired. I start to get my head into the think-it-through space, slow down, recover, be alert, you are almost there.

Finally I’m on the plateau with its fynbos habitat. Although the road is not nearly as bad as other stretches I’ve done, it feels like each pebble in a boulder. My odometer says I’m 2 kilometres from Bergplaas, I start to recall the advice once given to me that sometimes you ride from bush to bush. I look for my first bush goal.

A few minutes later I see the white Toyota Twincab ahead and the farmer camera in hand next to a place marking, Bergplaas at last, ignoring my dead legs I pick up the pace, I have done it!


Around the braai fire that night I discover that my hosts actually know a lot about the farm I visited as a child. Its name is Uitspan, the old man was Janse Rautenbach, the farm house is still there and as I remember it, they know the current farmer and what is more they themselves lived there for six very cold months.


What seemed imperfect and chaotic at times turned out to be perfect. My return to the Baviaans for a bike ride did not measure up to my planning but I got so much more from it. I reconnected with my father as a man on my own journey. Moreover, I was given a wonderful opportunity to be the observer of the beauty that surrounds us and quiet my mind. I could now understand that my past was at peace with my present not through thinking but simply by it being the past, it was all as it should have been to bring me to the now, and within that moment of realisation I would understand my future better not as an objective but as a perfect life journey.