Burning Rubber

After staying at Jamaka for 3 weeks, we contacted a farm in Montague offering the same setup, and the owner, a Swiss guy, invited us to come through on the 27^th of May. We were just getting used to our new, slow lifestyle in the Cederberg but it was time to move on. It had gone from fun to boredom to finally really appreciating our surroundings once we found our groove.

Our trial run up to Clan William confirmed that the bus was taking a strain with the extra weight of the bikes on the back and Theo struggled to keep the bus in a straight line. We planned to stop in Cape Town on our way and sort out the smell of burning rubber which was more worrying than the constant smell of exhaust fumes wafting in the back.

Last day on the farm we hiked up the mountain to look at the caves right up on the top. We made it all the way up, puffing and panting, even scaled a rocky bit, and were very impressed with ourselves. I was sure we’d built up some muscles in the time we’d been there and Theo’s calves were looking particularly sexy that day through the sweat dripping in my eyes.

It took us a day to pack up, load the bikes, have a last huge bonfire braai and then we were on our way. We stopped overnight in Elands Bay where Theo managed to smokkel some crayfish from the locals. Next morning we visited the cave to see the bushmen paintings, which sadly did nothing to satisfy my curiosity about the origins of man, and we stopped at the harbour to watch the fishermen launch their snoek bakkies. The early morning hazy flat sea was dotted with the little boats, manned by very abled fishermen who rowed out to sea to make a living.

Back on the road and the increased traffic indicated we were near Cape Town again. We headed up the busy road through Table View in peak hour traffic. Not wanting to make the trip boring, Theo decided to dislocate and detach the gear lever between first and second which left us stranded in the middle of road with a string of cars behind us. Ho hum, never a dull moment. He coasted onto the pavement to let the traffic pass. A few “oh f*ck ” later, we scratched our heads but a boer maak a plan so he grabbed the long hollow handled axe from behind his seat, wedged it over the 2 inch stump of the gear lever sticking out of the floor, gripped the axe blade to put it in 3^rd and we managed to make it to my moms house. We smelt a new aroma of burning clutch as we mounted the pavement in 3^rd gear but that was tomorrows problem. My mother seemed happy to see us although she said she had only just finished scrubbing her stove and pots.

Next day we took the bus in to be seen to including having the back window replaced. (remember the going up trip when we left the road in a hurry), and a new back tyre. The clutch smelt fine luckily and our idea of having to refit the double set of back tyres (removed by the previous owner) to carry the extra load seemed unnecessary. We were told that adding 2 extra feathers to the back springs, would sort us out. Cost a lot but cheaper than running extra tyres. When we collected the bus, they told us that the front king pin would sort out our steering problem but they could only attend to it the following week. We decided to leave the front repairs until after our trip to Montague since we were keen to get going and wanted to stop at Theos folks in Struuibaai for a week or 2 first. Theo was also looking forward to visiting our friends in the same area before the rainy season set in so that he could do some fishing before heading to Montague.

And so we were back on the move again