Shape Shifter Tour to Steytlerville
….. Of Shape Shifters and Bat Eared Foxes …..
With this thing about Shape Shifters being spotted in Steytlerville still bouncing around in my head, I put out the word that The Viper Lounge was organising another ride in that direction, leaving on Youth Day 16.6 and coming back to CT on 19.6.2011.
Much to my surprise the ride was fully subscribed by about 20 “oakes” in a matter of days and besides all the usual suspects we also had a few newcomers on board. From what I heard, some of the guys had to trade diamond rings and new cars with their “future ex wives” to get the weekend off and those with kids told their youngsters that their Father’s Day Present for this year would be “giving Dad the day off” – always think outside the doos ! ( Note : The Afrikaans Dictionary tells me that this IS the word for BOX !)
In spite of the weather forecast being just to the right of suicidal we were incredibly lucky and managed to get from The Viper to The Du Toitskloof Hotel between two “seriaas” squalls and by the time we were ready to roll from there, we were basically riding dry. In the interim, the Pahr–Tay had begun !
As I had promised the guys that I would show them the worst pub in The Cape, we pulled into the Loganda Hotel in Touwsrivier, which really does have the crummiest of dives around the back but hey, it’s the only joint for miles around and provided you make sure they wash your glass first and insist on being served from a sealed bottle you’re relatively safe.
It was early in the day and much to my surprise, the locals were still standing but the mood all round was far to sombre (sober?) for our liking so we lined up 30 Tequilas and JB (Burger) somehow managed to get his Nite Train (Ruhbarb) through the standard size door. This resulted in a sustained, 3 minute burn out on the tiled bar floor and I think JB even got into 3rd gear. Half way through the “event” the manager felt that the noise and thick rubberised smoke was offending the sensitivities of his other guests and suggested that we “get the F… out of his bar”. Needless to say we couldn’t hear him over the din and in truth, there was so much smoke that we didn’t even see him. He on the other hand learnt a valuable lesson which amounted to: Do not stand behind a bike that is burning a tyre lest you want your Sunday finery and everything else evenly splattered with bits of hot rubber. Shortly thereafter we left ….. but in the immortal words of The Governor of California (Arnie – Somebody – Or – The – Other) : “WE’LL BE BACK !”
From Touwsrivier it’s a “poep and a butt slap” to Matjiesfontein but as our “tour doctor” had spoken to us about the dangers of dehydration we decided to heed his advice and our next stop was the Lord Milner Hotel & Pub. The Doc who had had no faith in my ability to gauge the weather had decided to ride “shotgun” in his convertible Jag and on this stretch of road had hammered the beast up to 260 kph and to prove that to us, he had taken a photograph of his instrument cluster with his phone. Talk about driving whilst using a cell phone ….. ! Box !
Anyway, Matjies came and went and soon enough we were heading down the R407 towards Prince Albert where we were spending the night at The Swartberg Hotel with dinner at The Bush Pub (Lapa). Although we arrived with “much ado about nothing” as a group of “breekers” is prone to do, it soon became evident that the day had taken its toll and one by one we drifted back to the hotel where, after once again arguing the smoking laws with the barman, I decided to hit the sack. All round, by the way, The Swartberg is a very nice little hostelry and if you’re in that neck of the woods, its certainly worth a visit.
Friday dawned chilly but clear and after a good breakfast our route took us to De Rust via the ever, magnificent Meiringspoort. At the look out spot (about half way through the pass) we pulled over to admire the view and to “take some photies for SCOPE” (I’m giving my age away). Gary produced a bottle of Vintage Port and not to be outdone, Pierre (Burger) was standing by with a bottle of Johnny Black – I TOLD you it was cold !
Once again The Doc warned us about dehydration and as laymen, who were we to argue. 10 kms down the road we rumbled into De Rust and imbibed further fortifications for the “long” (100 km) trek to Willowmore. Thankfully we made The Willowmore Royal just as a few, low alcohol warning lights came on and after a light lunch of French Breads & Patisseries accompanied by a crisp 69 Chateau Neuf Du Pap (Ja – RIGHT !) we headed down the R329 and our final destination – Steytlerville!
Although this time we were staying with Jaques & Mark at the “Theatrical Karoo Hotel” just outside town, there was no way that we were going straight there and our first (dop) stop was at THAT Royal Hotel again. During a stay there earlier this year we had “trained” the Manager / Barman ( Reinier) to come running every time JB used his “duck caller” and as he disembarked he once again made the call. Much to our delight Reinier was there and without hesitation his response from somewhere in the depths of the building was : “ &%$@ – JA, EK KOM ! ”. We collapsed in a pile of mirth! (NO, …. it’s another word for laughter!)
The Jol was on and no passer by was left unscathed – especially if they were of the female persuasion and I finally got to pull my prank, which I had promised myself I would do one day. Directly opposite the hotel is a Co – Op with its name “Voer Mol” {which I think means “(Animal) Feed Mole”} proudly displayed on a signboard. After getting the necessary stationary from Reinier I switched the V and the M and voila, the Co – Op had become Moer Vol. At first this name change went largely unnoticed but after a while just about everyone that came by doubled over with laughter and for all I know, the Co – Op is still Moer Vol to this day !! I trust the owners have a sense of humour….. !
As it was getting dark, it was time to descend on the Karoo Theatrical Hotel and on our way there, we crossed over (in more ways than one) the old bridge that still stands over The Groot River. Both Jaques & Mark were on hand to greet us and whatever else you do in life, make sure you visit this establishment at least once. The 2 “boys” have worked wonders with this 1940’s edifice, which was first built on the outskirts of the town by the breweries as, in those days, “The Kerk Raad” would not permit the sale of alcohol within the town’s limits. How wise! At some stage however it fell into disuse and total disrepair until about 10 years ago, when the “boys” resurrected it to its former glory and then some. Mark is an accomplished piano player and has entertained the “fine and the snooty” all over the world and Jaques is a Vocal Diva Impersonator (if in fact there is such a thing) of note, so make sure you catch their show which is part of the dinner & entertainment on Saturday evenings. Enough said – go see for yourself !
Sadly, some of our guys got a little bit ahead of themselves and as much as I enjoy a good laugh and a bit of fun & games, I would like to take this opportunity to apologise (again) for the excess that marred the evening a bit. In spite of this, the food, service and accommodation was GREAT and if we’re allowed to, we’ll be back here too.
Some time earlier that day, the conversation had turned to the current TV series “The Sons of Anarchy” and I seem to recall that it was Pierre (Burger) who promptly dubbed us “The Sons of Afval” which resulted in new titles all round. Houston ( who enjoys a touch of weed at times) became “Gerookte Afval”. Gary (Gibson) who is prone to falling off his bike a lot became “Baie Afval” and when Nic (The Greek) admitted to wearing full length tights (against the cold of course) he became “Broekie Afval”. Pierre was anointed “Hoof Afval” and we decided that future prospects would become “Gaan Nog Afval” and so on ….. Strange how these small things can amuse the mind when you’ve got a “dop or two in your gat”.
The following morning we said farewell to Steytlerville but not before killing The Royal’s stock of O.B.S. – I keep telling you, it was COLD - and as we rolled out into the Karoo, there it was !!!!
Lying next to the road, frozen stiff overnight, we found what was to become “The Sons of Afval’s” mascot for the next leg of our ride. Before the “holier than thou” readership gets their “knaaters” in a twist over this little prank, please note that the unfortunate creature had gone to see its maker the night before and we were merely intent on giving it a spectacular send off. No sooner said than done and the Bat Eared Fox ( aka Jakalaks ) was “installed” on JB’s handlebars and for the next 300 odd kms, where we went – he went !
Needless to say not everyone appreciated our sense of humour ( humus? ) and the owner of La Dolce Vita in Oudtshoorn took a while to wind his neck in again after we brought “Jakalaks” into the courtyard of his establishment. “You can’t bring dead animals in here”, he screeched in a falsetto tone to which my nonchalant reply was : “Are you telling me your steaks are still alive?” That shut him up quick time and “Jakalaks” stayed. After all he was our mascot ………
As the evening progressed, “Jakalaks” took us to various pubs round Oudtshoorn where he was met with mixed reactions. Eventually the “Pahr – Tay” frizzled out in the bar of The African Sky Hotel and by the time we said our good nights, I’m not sure who looked worse – us or “Jakalaks”. As he had done us proud we decided that it was time to lay him to rest and in a scholemn moment “The Schons of Afval” schaluted their maschcot and buried him in ….. … a secret place of course.
Much like the story of the lost Arc of The Covenant which is said to be hidden some place between Jerusalem and a lake island in Ethiopia, this funerary location will never be revealed to outsiders and The S o A’s (as opposed to S o B’s) have sworn to take this secret to their graves with them. The truth is somewhat different of course and the next morning nobody could really recall where we had buried him so, the legend has already begun ! R.i.P Jakalaks !
The home run from Oudtshoorn down the R62 came with all the usual “trimmings” ( Ronnies Sex Shop, Karoo Saloon etc.) and by late afternoon we were all safely back at The Viper Lounge trying to decide which part of the stories to tell the loved ones and what to leave out. As always, what happens on the road should actually stay on the road but in all honesty and to protect what’s left of some peoples names, I have used lashings of poetic license in this report. He He !
Till next time
Wolf – Dieter Sowade
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