Far Not Far — A bike packing journal.

This whole COVID malarkey has shown us many things. If you are still reading at this point, I thank you. But in all seriousness it is fare to say recent experience with the pandemic has in many cases forced us to review how we look at things including travel. For obvious reasons many of us have had to ‘keep it local’ and make the best of our nearby surroundings. The amount of times I have pulled out my Slingsby maps ( other maps are of course available) of places situated in the extremities of our vast country, feeling that in order to experience true adventure and escape I am required to first drive to a faraway place along roads that can only be described as VW Polo killers. Corrugated gravel roads, with wire fences and a spattering of lopsided windmills in the distance, Tankwa, Cederberg, you get the picture.

Now of course heading to these well known and remote destinations will almost certainly pass the adventure litmus test providing excitement, isolation and anxiety all smooshed together like a hastily made roadtrip salt and vinegar chip roll. Should time and equipment allow you to venture out this far then power to you. But what if it can’t, what if you are able to only steal away last minute on a Friday with the strict requirement to be back home to help with the kids by the time the Carte Blanche intro starts to play.

What then? Well this is where the concept of ‘Far not Far’ comes to the fore, by thinking a little out the box to allow yourself to still enjoy the experience of a remote adventure, feeling like you might be at least 4 hours from civilisation when in fact there is an Engen one-stop about 3 kilometres to your right.

This is a theory I recently put to the test. The idea initially popped up due to a crash I had a couple weeks prior after losing a game of chicken at 40km/h with a grapefruit sized rock. So there I was, sitting there, nay, laying there in my apartment sans pants to allow the skin on my rear end the best chance of healing, watching my already laughable DC 200km form slip away as quickly as the hummus and crackers I was consuming. From this there grew an urge to “get away”, adventure was calling, I had to answer this call!

Being a last minute idea I was unsure who would be able to join me so I went with the ‘build it and they will come’ approach. Starting with distance, in this case 350km to be ridden over 3 days. We were after a short whiff of adventure before being back in time to catch the first calming tones of Mr Derrick Watts. For our international readers it should be noted that Carte Blanche with presenter Derrick Watts is a well-known local Sunday evening investigative news show that has seemingly been around forever and for many of us hearing that intro jingle at 7pm send shivers down the spine… the weekend is officially over!

Deciding on a format for the trip the conclusion that riding to our base camp instead of driving would up the ‘authenticity’ factor and so a slack-packing trip was deemed the way forward. Basically throw some bags on the bike with food, tools and off-bike clothes but stay in accommodation instead of camping. This helps in a number of ways, firstly there is the hot shower and running water after a long hard day on the bike as well as negating the need to carry large amounts of food as you can buy from local shops at your destination. Only one set of cycling gear is needed too, by throwing in a little ziplock of washing powder you can wash everything in the sink and it will be dry (ish) by morning, this also leaves space for a rain jacket as you never know how the weather turns out. Lastly the lack of tents or sleeping bag is a big help with keeping the weight down.

Next came our starting point, something within 2 hours drive from Cape Town center. Nowadays we are fortunate to have at our disposal a plethora of fantastic apps and programs to assist with route planning. After sometime playing with different routes a short transfer by car to the beautiful town of Franschhoek showed itself as a good starting point.

A quick WhatsApp to a friend with safe parking in the area and our start/finish point was confirmed. For this particular trip it was decided to use the quaint little town of Greyton as our base for the few days, which also meant that for the second day we could ride without all our bags weighing us down. In the meantime only one of my riding buddies was available for all three days so instead of a group we were now a Far not Far duo.

So we were all set, parking secured, route dialled in, accommodation booked, too much food packed and bikes ready to roll.

The days first leg would take us over Franschhoek pass, across the Theewaterskloof dam and along winding gravel roads, including a wonderful few kilometres along the railway line before a tough few rolling gravel climbs into Greyton. Although a seemingly tame distance of 100km and 1400m of climbing, the additional 10kg of weight and 37 degree temperatures certainly added to the difficulty level. You know the feeling, every so often looking down to see if your back wheel is flat only to realise that no, it’s not flat, you just have no power! One of the challenges of this particular route was the lack of towns or shops along the way and so water soon became a bit of an issue in the high temperatures. Luckily a friendly local farmer allowed us to top up our bottles from his overflowing rain catchment tank and we were back on our way.

Arriving in Greyton in the early afternoon, we rolled down the main street feeling as if we had just conquered the Munga . Any moment excited onlookers would make themselves known, throwing admiration and ooh and ahhs in our direction. Our salt encrusted lycra a clear sign that we were legitimate adventurers. Reality soon set in, it was after midday on a Sunday in Greyton and the members of ASRRA — (Atlantic Seaboard RangeRover Association) had all returned to their homes in time for the sunset and of course Mr Watts. This left us having to congratulate ourselves, which we duly did with a plate of carbs and beer. Then off we went to chase that hot shower and wash some lycra in a sink.

At this stage the purists might say that it is not bike packing unless you sleep rough in a tent and to a point I agree. However remember that is not what we were after here. All that counted was being out on our bikes with friends, knocking back the kilometres, clearing the mind and reliving the day later that evening over a beer while adding significant gradient to the ‘biggest climb of the day’ story. This was about experience, about leaving our comfort zone no matter how near or far.

Feeling the heat from the days exertions, we finished off the necessary chores including replenishing food supplies and washing bikes and called it a day. Sleep came easily.

Day two was pencilled in as the Queen Stage, a 150km gravel monster from Greyton around and down to Napier and back. The route creating a Strava-Art worthy map of the African continent. However, feeling the effects of the previous days ride and facing another 38+ degree day with limited water supplies we decided to shorten the ride to a more manageable distance of 100km and about 1300m of climbing. This was another lesson for us, sometimes you just need to check the ego and go with what feels right. Now I am pretty sure that my riding partner and I were capable enough to churn our way through the original route, most likely arriving back home with heat stroke and a signed friendship divorce. But that was not what we were looking for, we were more about the enjoyment of it all. Rather shorten things, have a few more stops, take a few more photos and really let it all set in. As it was, the strong wind well known in these parts reared its head the last few kilometres to quickly remind us how much of a slog that extra 50km would have been. A dip in the cool waters of the Riviersonderend River was the prize awaiting us after those brutal and bumpy final few kilometers.

Sufficiently cooled from our little swim we once again rolled into Greyton with high expectations of some sort of welcome or recognition for our days gruelling battle… we saw a dog. Oh well, shower time.

Sitting at a local restaurant for lunch, legs aching, bodies tired, we both acknowledged the slightly daunting idea that we still had to ride home the next day. Seemingly obvious but an all together different experience from the usual, drive there, ride the day, drive home scenario. With 200km already in the legs a 100km final day with fully loaded bikes would certainly leave us feeling like we had worked for it.

With that in mind any potential weight saving measures that could be taken were immediately put into practice. Half bag of pretzels — ate it all, got stomach cramps, half tube of travel sized toothpaste — used it all, looked like I had rabies. But the pièce de résistance without doubt would be the large tub of chamois cream with at least three rides worth of cream left. This was not enough to warrant taking the tub back with me, nor could I just throw it away. Instead I proceeded to lather the chamois area of my bibshorts with what can only be described as an irresponsible amount of nether-region cream. My seated area looked like a dropped lemon meringue pie. The story does have a happy ending however as never in my riding life have I felt so pampered and chafe free as I did that day. Financial repercussions would restrict me from regular such use of this product however on special occasions such as my birthday or the fist Sunday of each month I will be going full “Lemon Meringue” once again.

Now back on the bikes, riding past familiar landmarks from day one we were both keen to get back to the car and have this little adventure behind us but not before our second ascent of the Franschhoek pass. There is something about having an obstacle like this right at the end of a long ride that really makes you feel like you have ‘earned it’, whatever ‘it’ may be. Cresting the final climb we stopped for the obligatory photograph, topped up our bottles from the natural spring and proceeded to freewheel our way down the mountain back into Franschhoek.

Ending a trip like this can often come as a bit of an anti-climax. Rolling into the parking lot, a quick high five between friends, pack the bikes on the car and drive off. Soon the traffic starts to build and reality slowly seeps back in. Yet despite the rather sudden realisation that its ‘work tomorrow’, you find yourself sitting in a place of relative calm. This is the beauty of a Far not Far kind of trip, for a few short days you leave that world behind and through the metronomic process of turning those pedals again and again its as if you have re-arranged the proverbial filling cabinet and tidied your desk. After pushing hard on a bike for 300 or so km real life concerns seem a little less daunting. Driving back into the city now you sit back with a smile ready for whatever comes next.

So the next time you feel a yearning for adventure, think about a Far not Far kind of trip, you won’t regret it.

By Charl Dettmer — @cimacharlie.