Motorcycle Explorer September 2016 Issue 13 | Page 85

We found the turn-off to the farm and on the first pole was a big warning sign that we were entering priva
property. It didn’t CLEARLY state that we were not welcome though…
By the fourth unlocked gate we were greeted by an old grey haired man with a British sounding accent. We
told him that we were on our way to the ruins and he enquired, “What ruins???”
As he smiled and waved us through, he asked if we were sleeping there or if we were coming back. I’m not
sure he knew the difference between ‘ruins’ and ‘hotel’.
We found an old, deserted looking farm stead.
Though there were cattle and pig pens and a
nifty looking Ferguson standing on the yard.
Chikita got an oinking kiss from an inquisitive
ot.
Our luck ran out and the last gate was locked.
The X on the map showed it was still 1 200m
and we decided to push through per Berik. We
crawled through the fence and set off up the
hill. Motocross boots ain’t made for climbing
mountains…
I counted each step, somehow hoping it would
decrease the meters on the GPS quicker.