Day 4 sparked some unrest. We rose with the blistering sun, covered in paint, and had seemed to have lost all three scooters? A quick scout around our Etosha camp and we retrieved our stallions from the previous nights’ dance-floor.
Then the unthinkable. Molly (James MayDay’s pride and joy – who gets at least 40km more on a tank of fuel) would not start. This was the beginnings of what we called Operation get all three scooters and all three chaps to Livingstone Alive!
We started the troubleshooting process of fixing Molly (while Milo - the resident meerkat – kept a watchful eye on the other bikes). The prognosis: starter motor fail. The contingency plan: the kick-start function. The epic fail: kick start gearing broken. After hours of fiddling, greasing, and re-meshing of gears Molly coughed and rumbled and was roaring to get back on the open Nam roads. Too scared to turn her off we quickly packed up, hopped on the scooters and headed for Tsumeb. It was now sundown! 1440 km to Livingstone…
Although we had already been conditioned to a certain degree of cold (about -5°C) the ride towards Tsumeb became bitterly cold. The effect of putting every single item of clothing we had on meant our torsos were warm, our legs were warm, even our necks were warm, but there were moments of concern that we might lose a few digits! Nevermind, we pulled into a garage, huddled the coffee machine, and confidently requested 6 packets from the cashier lady. A side note: plastic packets work really well under riding gloves!
The Buggers rolled into Tsumeb around 1am into the rest camp where we spotted a couple of teams hiding out. Adrenalin pumping we cruised in (hooting and shouting) to find everyone asleep. A couple of beers and a bite to eat we hit the hay (solid ground). 1150 km to Livingstone…
Day 5 and “Mac Attack” from the Pistons whipped up breakie while we had a chuckle at Beaver (who could only walk on one leg) trying to put his tent down. All packed and ready except for Molly! She would not have any of it. By now our make-shift plan for the kick-start was giving up. But never fear the Silly Buggers would make a plan. Off with Roxy’s (Jared’s) kick-start, and onto Molly. We discovered that the reamer of a leatherman makes for an excellent drilling apparatus and we engineered a new cog mechanism. In the interim Fish made excellent sandwiches, but for the most part irritated us with sports commentary and beer drinking. By midday all teams had left the camp and we were officially in last place (we wouldn’t have it any other way). Jubilation struck as Molly’s engine ticked over, and once more we were off at sundown. With no plan in mind we headed towards the very Free-State-like dorpie of Grootfontein.
In high spirits we splashed and dashed through the town around 9pm and put all our efforts into getting to Rundu (the start of the Caprivi Strip). We couldn’t believe our luck when an 18-wheeler over took us as we hitched his slipstream for the next 90km out of Grootfontein. There were moments when carbon monoxide poisoning was a possibility, but it didn’t matter, we were cruising at 80km/h with minimal effort and bright neon! Then came the fireworks…never a good sight to see from one’s exhaust pipe. The victim, Molly again! We all feared the worst as we stood in the middle of nowhere. 940km to Livingstone…
James’s smoke signals managed to slow a copper truck down who thankfully loaded Molly and agreed to take us back to Grootfontein. We arrived back in the dorp around 1am. Perhaps the greatest part of travelling with these chaps is that disappointment doesn’t last too long. After strolling the town’s main road (150m) with two bored police officers we stumbled into a BnB and negotiated accommodation for 3 beers! There were a few chuckles when we learnt we were sharing the place with 70-odd Chinese “Pirates” (all flying out of the nearby military base). Tomorrow would test our grit to get Molly back on the road again.
Day 6, up nice and early and so fate would have it that we slept next door to a motorcycle repair shop. Enter Jan Fiets (surely this was his surname)! The biggest legend in all of Nam. This chap watched all the Put Foot crews pass his shop, and so had researched the rally. It made our lives that much easier as he was keen to get us back on the road as quick as possible. Molly’s underbelly was stripped, and to our relief, it turned out that her flywheel key had sheered (causing zero spark and engine compression). Jan had her rumbling again in 1 hour, and just for good measure decided to service all three bikes. The generosity of people can be truly mind-blowing as he refused to charge us a cent and was purely grateful for the cause that the rally represented. A couple of high-fives later and we were off towards Rundu again.
With the wind at our backs, 1010km to Livingstone…
(Picture by Tyson Jopson)
Keeping it Silly
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