and breathed for a moment . What a mission that had been . Bloody cyclists . Blah blah blah . Then , silence . Tall cactus plants , rough boulders littered all over the Martianlike landscape . Crystal clear skies . Not a manmade sound to be heard . Perfection .
At the Tankwa Karoo landmark called the Padstal [ Road stall ] it was a vastly different kettle of fish , the music was blaring , bikers and bikes were everywhere , and the air was laced with the scent of potato chips frying in hot oil , burgers grilling and the chatter of large tables of people bantering . As we idled in and stopped , the crowd kind of hushed . Then , a voice coming towards us from another biker .
“ What the hell is that ?” A question we would come to accept and embrace . Over the two days , we would have to answer many questions and be ready to be pulled over at any moment . It started with an excited farmer in Rawsonville and did not stop until we handed the Pan Am back two days later . Everyone was fascinated and wanted to have their moment to stare . We just wanted to ride but smiled and pretended to be experts on the specs , the features , and the evaluation of the new alien like motorcycle .
At the Tankwa Padstal , we fielded question after question through our thirsty mouths , but enjoyed the banter from like-minded bike nerds . It took us a long time until we were ourselves able to refresh with some water and a couple of icy Cokes . Everyone stayed gathered around to have a look while we sat sipping at our drinks . There were a lot of questions and debate . We just smiled smugly and nodded politely .
We asked about routes and were told that only madmen would take on the one we had in mind . We did not have the correct tyres , the wash aways were rocky and golf ball sized rough pebbles were littered everywhere . We listened and then did exactly what we were told not to . We wanted to throw everything we could at this fancy new bike and no fair-weather sailors were going to lecture us on when to take to the proverbial water . We headed out to sea . Our ocean , a desert of rock , sand , and mystery . I personally regretted it almost instantly . They were right .
For the next couple of hours , we bounced through humongous washaways that had left donga like canyons in the recent rain ’ s wake . We crossed dry riverbeds where pebbles lay perfectly flat , but thick and soft to the wheel . There were kilometres of sharp cuts of shale and sandstone . There was soft sand and hard , rough but unpredictable stretches . When bogged down in the troughs , the bike behaved like a tractor . The bodies started to hurt ; the mirages of tar ahead started to come thick . The sun started to inch lower . When we eventually reached tar , I almost kissed the asphalt . It ’ s kind of ironic that one normally longs for the dirt when on an adventure bike . After the gauntlet we had faced , the tar was sublime .
My hands and legs shook as we stood in silence on the verge of the tar . We were exhausted . Over 8 hours of hard riding and we were smashed . Mike spoke of a very sore butt . For me , it was my knees and hands . Then we stepped back and admired the bike . It seemed to be standing there waiting for more . It had not even properly woken-up yet .
I often compare adventure bikes to big game . There are the lions , the cheetahs , the rhinos , and a few warthogs even . The Pan America is different . It ’ s no animal we know . Maybe more of a tyrannosaurus rex or something mad like that . The bike confused me so much . Where does this fit ?
As a pillion , I would struggle to recommend the bike for routes like
our chosen one . If on the other hand , you love Harley and the brand , you want to ride the graded dirt and just play , this is without doubt the most solid and safe bike you can buy . It ’ s grounded and stable . It feels stuck to the surface and even though we tried to break it , it never got too hot . Don ’ t be fooled by the unproven hype about these bikes overheating . If this was ever an issue , it no longer is .
The last stretch of tar flew by fast . About 100km of bends dropping us back to the bottom plateau . I was
TRAVERSE 150