Sun is setting, and we are belting out the pedals on the flat dirt roads of Springbokvlakte. A strange feeling after the continuous pushing of bikes through the Grootwinterhoekberge.
A bakkie comes screaming past and smothers us with dust, all we see are red brake lights through the dust cloud.
“Where the hell are you off to?”, we are asked by the driver.
We answer, “Kilimanjaro sir. We are on a charity cycle tour.”
“Where you staying tonight?” the driver asks.
At this stage we apologise for being so rude and introduce ourselves. Mr Moolman introduces himself and points to a farm house and tells us to camp there on one of his farms. Our welcome to the Karoo.
The next morning we leave at sunrise, popping in at the shearing shed to thank Mr Moolman. We were woken up by screams and only once we walked into the shed were our minds put to rest. Sheep shearing is not a scary affair. Angora goats on the other hand are loud and they scream a chilling cry! Sounds like torture but believe me its only a haircut.
We reach Kleinpoort and meet up with Angus and Grandpa. They brought us a surprise. A very good friend of Marc and I, Casey, who happens to be a massage therapist. Out came the massage bed on the front porch of the Kleinpoort Padstal!
After the braai we were going nowhere! The owners offered us a place to camp on their lawn and an ever needed hot shower to just put those muscles into total hibernation.
The next day things couldn’t get any better.
After a grueling hot cycle of 80 kilometres we started looking for a spot to camp.
As though it was the usual, a bakkie screams past. Dust cloud smothers us and red brake lights greet us.
Its Shawn Hobson. “Load your bikes and I’ll give you a lift. You can stay on my farm.”
It must be a regular occurrence to have two crazy people on bikes in the Karoo, we thought. We cycled the ten kays to Martyrsford and met Shawn.
The Karoo community is so kind and hospitable, its going to be hard to leave.
