Off the beaten path

When last we talked, I had some fun with the concept of the dangers of motorcycle riding in south Africa, but my arrival on the dark continent was indeed somewhat harrowing.

Albert of Safari Junction was there to meet me at Johannesburg airport, his SUV towing an almost-new GS1200 Adventure. So far, so good. Gary Clegg, the owner of Safari Junction had suggested that I hole up in a Johnannesburg hotel upon my arrival, all the better to sleep off my jet lag. Of course, I knew better, and decided that I was more than capable of riding a motorcycle after simply sitting on a plane for a few hours, for crying out loud.

So after having three hours of sleep in the last 48, I swung my leg over a 600lb dirt bike and prepared to navigate unfamiliar territory on a strange continent, on the wrong side of the road. On my own. Oh, and did I mention that I'd be covering >600km, some of which would be dirt roads? "And please, Jason." implored Albert, "get to your destination by 5:00pm, as there's a lot of wildlife on the road after dusk." When I pointed out to Albert that the bike-mounted GPS predicted I would arrive at the end of my route at 6:18pm, he put on a poker face and said, "you'll be fine."

It proved quite easy to adjust to left-hand driving, with only one hair-raising WTF moment for myself and an oncoming driver. traffic was generally light leaving Joburg, other than the mindbogglingly slow transport trailers which emitted thick black smoke and slowed down to 40km/h when ascending even moderate grades.

At first the landscape bore a striking resemblance to Ontario in summer, with similar parched grass and relatively flat terrain, but after a couple of hours it changed dramatically. I experienced a sense that the land was opening up and revealing itself to me. Rolling hills slowly came into view, sparsely populated with stark, tough-looking trees that had a distinctly African flavour. Still, I didn't yet have a feel that I was on The Dark Continent. The towns had a thoroughly foreign feel, and the shantytowns that appeared by the road spoke volumes about the high rate of poverty in this country that's a confusing admixture of first and third world civilizations. But the reality hadn't set in yet.

About three hours into my ride I was cruising along a fairly twisty road and an animal darted out in front of the car ahead of me. It was raccoon-coloured, and roughly raccoon-sized, but it took me a second to realize that it was not actually a raccoon. It was a monkey. An effing monkey! I was in Africa!