Mad Bike Trips Part one Johannesburg to Clarens

I left home with a big blanket and a bicycle in 2009. My whole attitude to life changed completely during the following three months. Isaw wild hippos on the beach within the first week, was treated to a Christmas feast, lived in a jungle, earned my way as a carpenter and painter and wound up experiencing whatr felt at the time like it was the last natural living available on this planet. Climbing up steep mountain gulleys, dawn riding on the beach, meeting other drifters who showed me even more of the world than I thought existed, and all that happened in the tiny little troubled bit of the map you call South Africa. I was basically homeless with a bicycle in South Africa for several months and took advantage of the time to explore. The country and of course, cliche though it is, myself.
Just out from Johannesburg, on the R roads, you keep crossing these picturesque little rivers. Flat descending terrain, sometimes with weather moving toward you. I had no idea where to sleep at night, just winged it in each town. Usually a campsite, sometimes the bush. Now and then a new friend's place and of course, backpackers. I don't have pics from 2009 becasue I was homeless and my camera was nicked from the campsite in St Lucia while I was working on some woodwork in Monzi, a small affluent community not too far into the bushes there, near the Dukuduku forest. But in 2013 I repeated much of my original journey, earning a living as a copywriter online by then. The photos I have are almost all from that year.
![Bike next to the road outside Johannesburg on the way to Heidelberg.

It's hard to describe the exhiliration I felt leaving Johannesburg that first time. Nothing behind me and nothing ahead...just what the road would bring. It was a strange way to live. My headspace was daily filled with incredible vistas and no thought of whether this was all worthwhile or not. It just was. I was doing it and that was all there was to it.

In 2009, just before the soccer world cup, I found the road to the Northern Coast, St Lucia, Mkuze etc was busy and had coal trucks on it. In 2013, during April and also in December, I took the R roads down to Clarens, a well known little town where an artist lived in a cave at one point or some such story. In 2009 I only arrived in Clarens after months on the road and several weeks spent living in the nature reserves around the St Lucia area. I can show you my road to Clarens, and beyond that to Ficksburg and Hobhouse. A re-drift. A nostalgic glimpse of what it was like to be a modern gypsy. Now I live in an apartment, paint pictures, write the odd bit here and there. I have a partner. Then I was wild. I still yearn for it.
Even the local nature reserves, which are spectacular, just don't quite give me that tang in the mouth. The real adventure you get when you have really, truly LEFT HOME.
These
These curving rocks near Clarens in South Africa not only look interesting but also echo sounds back to you in the most haunting ways. A cow herders bells can become ghostly and even the sounds of the bike and your breathing can make you stop the bike, sure you are being followed.
In Clarens there is a wonderful little lodge (and backpacker) where you can connect to some wifi, eat an apple grown right there and wander up the local stream. Sorry to sound touristy but it really is pleasant there. Not far is Golden Gate Highlands national park, a wonder you have to see.
From Clarens it is an easy ride through to Ficksburg, where there is again a backpackers, or was. But that's boring so I'll tell you instead about the fifth night out from Johannesburg, when I went the OTHER way and found myself out in the mountains above Paulpietersburg well after sunset. It was the first time I had ever slept alone in the bush, and I was scared. It got darker, I could see noone and nothing but endless dusky mountain horizons and forested slopes. I heaved the bike onto my shoulders and made my way about two or three hundred metres into the plantation at the side of the road. Spread my large brown blanket among big dusty old pine trees. Growing up in South Africa, I am fairly familiar with the presence of wild animals. Also, as a result of where I grew up I am all too familiar with the worst animal of the lot. The most dangerous and cunning, homo sapiens. Very nice in church, not so nice when you meet them out on your own in the dark. SOmetimes.
SO there I was, covering my slightly shiny bicycle with fallen branches to prevent a chance reflection giving me away and propping my backpack up next to the tiny primus stove to create a little warmth and cook something while still remaining as effectively hidden as possible. I stayed dark and quiet for hours before, in the now entrenched stillness, a spirit cracking howl split the night air. My spine stiffened and hairs prickled along its length. I could not believe my ears. My fear level, alone and not too sure where I was, made me unwilling to believe that this was nothing. Just sound. Then it came again. Breaking the peace and shocking me utterly. I had no bloody idea what it could possibly be. Had I been the more seasoned woodland campaigner that I hoped to become I may have known but later on I found out anyway. Since I was in any event powerl;ess against any foes, spiritually ghastly or physical, whatever, I elected to maintain my original strategy and remain stock still in petrified silence.
Which is why a few hours later. after intermittent wailing by the assumed demonic entities, a small group of bush babies crept past my position with my back against a tree bole and my legs tucked up beneath me.
This is a bush baby by the way, from google, not mine.

It would have ignored my presence but for a slight movement, which is why I know what it was. Those huge eyes, made fun of during game drives, are horrific to behold in the darkness of the forest at night. So I don't have any pictures of that evening, but I made it Paulpietersburg or Dumbe (pronounced dhoombee )as it is sometimes known where the last change in my pocket bought breakfast. Here are some pics of the road to Ficksburg and Hobhouse though that I took on my nostalgic 2013 trips.

I often still feel as though I am on a long journey, one filled with surprises, losses, gains, experience and friendship. Always wanted to write down what I used to think about while I was on the road, and so I'm going to Steem it. COme along with me for the ride and together we'll see if it was worth anything or not. If you encourage me enough, who knows, maybe I'll get back on the road. So that was part one. I'll be back with part two after coffee. Pictures get better, stories get wierder.