many forms , no rider had access to GPS co-ordinates or maps . This is real rallying .
Somewhere a few kilometres into the intermediate stage the bitumen road gave way to a tight , twisty downhill section that led to a water-crossing . By all accounts this was an easy ride something all levels of capability could conquer .
In the near distance a bike roared into life , stopped , silent . Roared again , stopped , silent … and again . The unmistakable thump of an air cooled , single cylinder echoed through the trees . There it was , a green Kawasaki KLR halfway up a hill , the rider struggling desperately to get it from the roadside culvert he was entrapped within . Legs flailing pointlessly . The bike roared yet again , stopped and silent … again .
“ Bloody hell ,” I looked to see if anyone was following
TRAVERSE 93