Last legs

The ride from the Drakenberg mountains to Durban, where I was to hook up with the BMW folks for the F 800 GS new model launch, was short and uneventful other than a slight misreading of the GPS which resulted in a detour through the city of Ladysmith. This added close to an hour to a trip that should have been only 2.5 hrs. Still, the rest was highway and easy sailing.

The closer I got to the coast, the warmer it became. In the mountains it had been in the mid-to-low 20C, and it rapidly shot up to the low 30s. So long as I was moving, that was fine, but when stopped in this heat it felt like I was wearing a sauna suit. Off came the jacket, which left me only in my mesh armour.

As I pulled into the Zimbali Lodge, the site of the BMW press launch, I did the stupidest thing. I dithered at a roundabout, and tipped the GS over onto its side. No damage done, but it goes to show how easily this can happen. Get that bike only a few degrees off vertical -- especially when fully loaded -- and it'll crush you earthward without the slightest hesitation. Of course, this had to happen with an audience. I just had to hope that the buses at each corner of the roundabout were devoid of journalists and BMW brass.

The Zimbali Lodge is total Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous fodder. My room was stunning, the pool was a lucious, salt-water infinity type, and the staff were beyond gracious.

I'd rather not go into the details of the bike launch, given that our mag hasn't gone to press yet. Hope you all understand. I will say that the roads were a mixture of 50/50 tar and gravel, and I had a blast riding them.

The second day of the press launch had worried me intensely. All of the other journos from Canada had flown Toronto-Frankfurt-Johannesburg-Durban, but I had chosen to land in Joburg, pick up the GS1200, ride for a week, show up for the press launch in Durban and then race back to Joburg to catch the plane with the other journos.

The problem here was that we were scheduled to ride 'til noon, at which point BMW would shuttle us to the airport in Durban where we'd fly back to Joburg. The plane would leave from Joburg at 8pm. The total distance from Zimbali Lodge to Joburg would be ~650km. That's one heck of a distance to cover in 6hrs, as I'd want to be at the airport by 6pm at the latest.

The BMW brass were rather impressed with my solo trip, and I'd had several Germans come up to me and ask if I was the Canadian who was riding the GS across Africa. So with these brownie points under my belt, I felt safe asking for special dispensation to cut out a little early.

So on day 2, I headed back to the lodge at 10am, after riding for a couple of hours, loaded up the GS and high-tailed it for Joburg. This was another ass-crunching ride, as I stopped only about three times, with two breaks being 5 minutes, and one for 20 minutes. The ride was all freeway -- 4-lane blacktop, with gob-smacking views of rolling landscapes and rugged hills.

As I'd said, I had been concerned about the timing and logistics of this final leg of my journey for a while, but now that I was doing it, there was a feeling of rightness to the experience. What better way to cap off a thrilling adventure than with a long, peaceful lope through the birthplace of humankind.

I rolled into the parking lot at Joburg airport at 4:50pm. Tons of time to spare. Albert was there to meet me, and I handed off the filthy GS to him with a sheepish smile. I know that he expected me to get the thing dirty, and the mud, grime and bugs told the whole story.

I got through the check-in procedure and made my way to the lounge. The other journos began to trickle in about a half-hour after me. I had beaten the plane!

As I boarded the plane and took my seat, I feeling of relief washed over me. I had done it.