iced drinks after passing through the
towns of Dundee and Glencoe. We
saw signs for Newcastle and almost
felt at home … 39 degrees in the UK!
Wow!
At lunch, Alex briefed us about
the afternoon ride to Rorke’s Drift.
We would have our first ride on dirt
roads, and he advised us to stop and
change the bikes into ‘enduro’ mode.
The road was a typical rutted, stony
hard-baked gravel road but the bikes
coped well. Liz hit a patch of sand
and had a buttock clenching wobble
but recovered well and stayed up-
right.
Now, they say that you learn some-
thing every day. On this day I learned
that if you are riding on dusty African
dirt roads that you must keep your
visor firmly shut. If you don’t, your
companions will laugh, point and
take photos BEFORE they offer you
a wet wipe to clean your dirty, dusty
face.
Rorke’s Drift was eerie and ghostly
and whilst walking around the small
museum I reflected on the futility of
war and man’s inhumanity to fellow
man. We were walking on the death-
beds of hundreds of Zulu warriors
and tens of British red coats. We
paused at the beautiful monument
to the Zulus which was a statue of a
TRAVERSE 51
majestic leopard guarding their souls.
The battlefield visit left us in rather a
sombre mood, before we continued
the dirt road to our hotel on the banks
of the Buffalo River where the massa-
cre started.
After dinner, Alex led us onto the
hotel balcony to look at the stars
again. He pointed out some constel-
lations and showed us how to identify
the Southern Cross. The darkness of
the night highlighted the stars, again
we gazed skyward, millions of stars
and the soft cloud of the Milky Way
not normally visible to us. Soon, the
temperature plunged and shivering,
we had to make our way indoors.