“Of course” he replied, almost offended that I had even asked such a question.
“So you’ve managed to organize a trailer then?” I queried.
“Not exactly” he said
“So what you going to do?”
“You’ll see” Dave said with a chuckle.
True to his word, Dave 
arrived at my house just outside Hluhluwe, in Northern Zululand, a few days later. Amazingly, he had managed to dissemble his new Yamaha TW 200 to a point where he could fit it into the back of his hatchback, albeit after the removal of the his car seats, spare wheel, rear sound system and anything else that was not essential to the functionality of the vehicle. “It’s a sight for sore eyes!” Dave said as he pulled up “But I made it”. Not only had he got his bike into his car, coming from Jo’burg, there was no way he was going on a trip to Ponta D’Oura without his kite surfing gear. Luckily my girlfriend, Julia, would be meeting us in Ponta and she would be traveling by car, otherwise I would not have put it past Dave to think up some inventive way to attach it all to his bike.
arrived at my house just outside Hluhluwe, in Northern Zululand, a few days later. Amazingly, he had managed to dissemble his new Yamaha TW 200 to a point where he could fit it into the back of his hatchback, albeit after the removal of the his car seats, spare wheel, rear sound system and anything else that was not essential to the functionality of the vehicle. “It’s a sight for sore eyes!” Dave said as he pulled up “But I made it”. Not only had he got his bike into his car, coming from Jo’burg, there was no way he was going on a trip to Ponta D’Oura without his kite surfing gear. Luckily my girlfriend, Julia, would be meeting us in Ponta and she would be traveling by car, otherwise I would not have put it past Dave to think up some inventive way to attach it all to his bike. Both of us are freshly out of university and do not have the financial cushion most motorcycle enthusiasts have to fall back upon but we were not about to let such trivial inadequacies stand in our way. We were going to have a real adventure, taking the back roads and the back roads of back roads through Maputuland into southern Mozambique and back. Our rule was to always choose the road less travelled, Robert Frost would have been proud but this rule does not always get you to where you want to be heading, as we would soon find out!
We started out with a leisurely cruise up along to edge of Muze Pan, 
enjoying the thousands of water birds and occasional pod of hippos less than an under nine ‘c’ team netball player’s stone throw away. This part of South Africa still feels so wild, you don’t drive through any fences or pay any park fees and next thing you know you are dodging reedbuck, riding beside a family of warthogs or sitting sipping from your camelback and marvelling at the enormity of a fully-grown hippo up close and personal, although we did try to maintain a safe distance from the hippos once our ignitions were off, mostly because I was riding my not-so-trusty old Yamaha XT500 “Classic Thumper”. It always starts first time when no one else is around… I promise.
From the top of Muze pan we managed to wind our way to Sodwana Bay without touching a single piece of tar (apart from crossing the R22 of course), granted it took us most of the day as we double backed and zigzagged our way across the landscape but that was what we were out to do. We played follow the leader with the guy in front having all decision making privileges as we tried to navigate the vast network of roads that weaved between the Zulu huts and past women in their carefully maintained vegetable gardens and through herds and herds of Inguni cattle, some of which, thought it necessary to chase us for miles on end. The kids would run out of their houses and chase us smiling, waving and shouting “SWEEEEEEEEEETS!” At one point we came across a beautiful river enclosed by a dense green belt of tropical forest, the road seemed to go straight through the middle but after walking through the chest deep crystal clear water we realized we would have to find a more bike friendly alternative. We eventually found a shallower section a little way downstream and two to a bike, we got across the river and through a hundred meters of muddy, log strewn footpath to a clearing on the far bank and two hours later we were back on our bikes and cruising through the open plains. We eventually arrived in Sodwana Bay just as it was getting dark and were met by some well-deserved ice-cold beers.
After a good night with some friends who were staying in Sodwana we awoke a little later than the six o’clock start, we had assured everyone we were good for, and started to pack the bikes but our day was off to a less than perfect start with a flat tyre each. It was only mid morning but the heat was already unbearable and by the time we had both tubes changed we were dripping with sweat. We had planned to make a quick stop at the Mbazwana Spar to get some supplies but this turned into another marathon event. We hadn’t bargained for the fact that it was the end of the month and the tiny Spar in Mbazwana probably serves a rural area bigger than many small countries. Queuing at the tills was more of a guideline than a rule and we soon learned that in this world if you were not fast, then you were last so we wrestled through the crowds, paid for our provisions and eventually headed out of town and back on to the soft sand, which we were now getting a little more used to. Neither of us had done much riding on soft sand up until this trip but we were learning fast just to hold your line and maintain a steady low rev count.
We rode along the shores of Lake Sibayi, stopping many times to marvel at the surroundings. Lake Sibayi is the largest ground water lake in the Southern Hemisphere, not fed by any major tributary. The crystal blue waters cover an area close to seventy square kilometers. The lake is home to many a hippo but they proved too elusive for us on this day. We eventually came to the gate forming the border of the Isimangaliso Park, formerly known as Greater St Lucia Wetland Park, our plan was to get to Mabibi Campsite for the night but instead we were greeted by a giant “No Motorcyles” sign on the gate. Retrospectively, I should have known better, I had been camping at Mabibi, possibly my favourite campsite and beach in the country, many times in the past two years I had been living in Zululand, but we had always made the journey by 4x4 and I had never noticed the sign forbidding motorcycles. Our begging and pleading with the rangers at the gate was in vain, as there was no way they were going to let us through and quite rightly so. I always loved passing through this gate on my way up the sandy track to Mabibi as the rangers here take such pride in their jobs and never fail to greet you with a stern salute followed by a Colgate smile.
Time was getting on and our delayed start and meandering pace throughout the day meant that we were running out of daylight hours so we decided to head back to Sodwana Bay for the night and just bomb it up to Mozambique the next day. We stuck to our back road rule and tried to cut a straight line back to Soddies along lesser used roads, footpaths and cattle tracks but ended up getting a little disorientated. It was getting dark and at one point, after I thought we had been heading in the same southerly direction for the last half hour, we end up exactly where we started- we had done a giant loop. Just as the last drops of daylight were dissolving we worked out where we were and found the road we were looking for. This meant crossing a small stream known to Locals as “Oom Tollie se Gat” and I soon found out why. After a less than adequate inspection of the stream I mounted my bike and rode into the knee deep water accelerating as I made my way across the thirty meter wide stream and not expecting a change in depth when all of a sudden my bike dropped into the “Gat” part of the stream. Dave took a far wiser and more calculated
approach and navigated through the stream sticking to the shallower parts and reaching the other side safely so that he could help me out of my mess and onto dry land. We tried every trick we knew to rid the engine of the water and get my puppy started but to no avail. We resigned to pushing the stubborn machine four kilometers back to Sodwana in the dark of night accompanied briefly by a machete wielding local who had obviously enjoyed a good session in the shebeen and was now convinced he was placed on this good earth to help us out of our current state of dismal affairs but he was getting in the way more than anything else so we eventually convinced him that he would be having a better time sleeping it off.
The next day we eventually got my bike firing again after draining the fuel, changing the oil and putting in a new spark plug. We headed straight for the Mozambique border along the more forgiving blacktop. After the necessary formalities at the border we were back on the sand tracks and headed straight for Ponta D’Oura, where we found some beds in a backpackers right on the beach and headed straight for the bar in search for some ice cold 2M beers, which by now, had started to resemble something of the holy grail to our thirsty lips. It was now Friday evening and Julia joined us in Ponta after her week’s work was done at a hospital near Sodwana Bay where she works as a physiotherapist. She had come up in her trusty Land Rover packed with luxuries that limited space on a motorcycle would not permit so we spent the next couple days enjoying the beach and waves with all our toys and eating like kings.
We gave ourselves one full day for our journey home and thought we would make the most of it by getting to the border as it opened but it was the end of a long weekend and many other people making their way back to the big cities had had similar objectives. We joined the queue of cars waiting to cross back into the Republic about a kilometer from the border post but thankfully, once the border opened, the Mozambican officials just seemed to usher everyone though with little more than a glimpse at our passports as if to say “You are crowding my country- PLEASE LEAVE”
Once back in
South Africa we made our way onto the back roads that we had bypassed on our way up in our rush to reach the beaches and beer and boy am I glad that we did. From Kosi Bay we headed in a South Easterly direction towards the sea. We zigzagged through the hilly plains dotted with clumps of palm trees and took each fork in the road according to our gut feeling trying to head in a general homeward direction but the roads seemed to double back 
on themselves which allowed us to enjoy the adventure that much longer. I am not entirely sure if we were allowed to be riding where we were but we never saw a sign forbidding it and we were never told otherwise so we continued in ignorance, loving every second of it. After not too many navigational mishaps we popped out at a main dirt track which looked like it had been laid for the logging trucks servicing the surrounding plantations, we followed the road towards civilization and joined the tar road not too far from Sodwana Bay. From there, we headed back to my house all along the tar to end what had been an unforgettable experience on a strapped budget and limited motorcycling experience, although our experience in soft sand had more than doubled in the last few days and this had just wet our appetite for bigger and better adventures!
enjoying the thousands of water birds and occasional pod of hippos less than an under nine ‘c’ team netball player’s stone throw away. This part of South Africa still feels so wild, you don’t drive through any fences or pay any park fees and next thing you know you are dodging reedbuck, riding beside a family of warthogs or sitting sipping from your camelback and marvelling at the enormity of a fully-grown hippo up close and personal, although we did try to maintain a safe distance from the hippos once our ignitions were off, mostly because I was riding my not-so-trusty old Yamaha XT500 “Classic Thumper”. It always starts first time when no one else is around… I promise.From the top of Muze pan we managed to wind our way to Sodwana Bay without touching a single piece of tar (apart from crossing the R22 of course), granted it took us most of the day as we double backed and zigzagged our way across the landscape but that was what we were out to do. We played follow the leader with the guy in front having all decision making privileges as we tried to navigate the vast network of roads that weaved between the Zulu huts and past women in their carefully maintained vegetable gardens and through herds and herds of Inguni cattle, some of which, thought it necessary to chase us for miles on end. The kids would run out of their houses and chase us smiling, waving and shouting “SWEEEEEEEEEETS!” At one point we came across a beautiful river enclosed by a dense green belt of tropical forest, the road seemed to go straight through the middle but after walking through the chest deep crystal clear water we realized we would have to find a more bike friendly alternative. We eventually found a shallower section a little way downstream and two to a bike, we got across the river and through a hundred meters of muddy, log strewn footpath to a clearing on the far bank and two hours later we were back on our bikes and cruising through the open plains. We eventually arrived in Sodwana Bay just as it was getting dark and were met by some well-deserved ice-cold beers.
After a good night with some friends who were staying in Sodwana we awoke a little later than the six o’clock start, we had assured everyone we were good for, and started to pack the bikes but our day was off to a less than perfect start with a flat tyre each. It was only mid morning but the heat was already unbearable and by the time we had both tubes changed we were dripping with sweat. We had planned to make a quick stop at the Mbazwana Spar to get some supplies but this turned into another marathon event. We hadn’t bargained for the fact that it was the end of the month and the tiny Spar in Mbazwana probably serves a rural area bigger than many small countries. Queuing at the tills was more of a guideline than a rule and we soon learned that in this world if you were not fast, then you were last so we wrestled through the crowds, paid for our provisions and eventually headed out of town and back on to the soft sand, which we were now getting a little more used to. Neither of us had done much riding on soft sand up until this trip but we were learning fast just to hold your line and maintain a steady low rev count.
We rode along the shores of Lake Sibayi, stopping many times to marvel at the surroundings. Lake Sibayi is the largest ground water lake in the Southern Hemisphere, not fed by any major tributary. The crystal blue waters cover an area close to seventy square kilometers. The lake is home to many a hippo but they proved too elusive for us on this day. We eventually came to the gate forming the border of the Isimangaliso Park, formerly known as Greater St Lucia Wetland Park, our plan was to get to Mabibi Campsite for the night but instead we were greeted by a giant “No Motorcyles” sign on the gate. Retrospectively, I should have known better, I had been camping at Mabibi, possibly my favourite campsite and beach in the country, many times in the past two years I had been living in Zululand, but we had always made the journey by 4x4 and I had never noticed the sign forbidding motorcycles. Our begging and pleading with the rangers at the gate was in vain, as there was no way they were going to let us through and quite rightly so. I always loved passing through this gate on my way up the sandy track to Mabibi as the rangers here take such pride in their jobs and never fail to greet you with a stern salute followed by a Colgate smile.
Time was getting on and our delayed start and meandering pace throughout the day meant that we were running out of daylight hours so we decided to head back to Sodwana Bay for the night and just bomb it up to Mozambique the next day. We stuck to our back road rule and tried to cut a straight line back to Soddies along lesser used roads, footpaths and cattle tracks but ended up getting a little disorientated. It was getting dark and at one point, after I thought we had been heading in the same southerly direction for the last half hour, we end up exactly where we started- we had done a giant loop. Just as the last drops of daylight were dissolving we worked out where we were and found the road we were looking for. This meant crossing a small stream known to Locals as “Oom Tollie se Gat” and I soon found out why. After a less than adequate inspection of the stream I mounted my bike and rode into the knee deep water accelerating as I made my way across the thirty meter wide stream and not expecting a change in depth when all of a sudden my bike dropped into the “Gat” part of the stream. Dave took a far wiser and more calculated
approach and navigated through the stream sticking to the shallower parts and reaching the other side safely so that he could help me out of my mess and onto dry land. We tried every trick we knew to rid the engine of the water and get my puppy started but to no avail. We resigned to pushing the stubborn machine four kilometers back to Sodwana in the dark of night accompanied briefly by a machete wielding local who had obviously enjoyed a good session in the shebeen and was now convinced he was placed on this good earth to help us out of our current state of dismal affairs but he was getting in the way more than anything else so we eventually convinced him that he would be having a better time sleeping it off.The next day we eventually got my bike firing again after draining the fuel, changing the oil and putting in a new spark plug. We headed straight for the Mozambique border along the more forgiving blacktop. After the necessary formalities at the border we were back on the sand tracks and headed straight for Ponta D’Oura, where we found some beds in a backpackers right on the beach and headed straight for the bar in search for some ice cold 2M beers, which by now, had started to resemble something of the holy grail to our thirsty lips. It was now Friday evening and Julia joined us in Ponta after her week’s work was done at a hospital near Sodwana Bay where she works as a physiotherapist. She had come up in her trusty Land Rover packed with luxuries that limited space on a motorcycle would not permit so we spent the next couple days enjoying the beach and waves with all our toys and eating like kings.
We gave ourselves one full day for our journey home and thought we would make the most of it by getting to the border as it opened but it was the end of a long weekend and many other people making their way back to the big cities had had similar objectives. We joined the queue of cars waiting to cross back into the Republic about a kilometer from the border post but thankfully, once the border opened, the Mozambican officials just seemed to usher everyone though with little more than a glimpse at our passports as if to say “You are crowding my country- PLEASE LEAVE”
Once back in
South Africa we made our way onto the back roads that we had bypassed on our way up in our rush to reach the beaches and beer and boy am I glad that we did. From Kosi Bay we headed in a South Easterly direction towards the sea. We zigzagged through the hilly plains dotted with clumps of palm trees and took each fork in the road according to our gut feeling trying to head in a general homeward direction but the roads seemed to double back 
on themselves which allowed us to enjoy the adventure that much longer. I am not entirely sure if we were allowed to be riding where we were but we never saw a sign forbidding it and we were never told otherwise so we continued in ignorance, loving every second of it. After not too many navigational mishaps we popped out at a main dirt track which looked like it had been laid for the logging trucks servicing the surrounding plantations, we followed the road towards civilization and joined the tar road not too far from Sodwana Bay. From there, we headed back to my house all along the tar to end what had been an unforgettable experience on a strapped budget and limited motorcycling experience, although our experience in soft sand had more than doubled in the last few days and this had just wet our appetite for bigger and better adventures! 