With a mountain bike it is possible to climb over fences and locked gates; to venture into places where few people travel anymore; to be overwhelmed by the majesty of the Bewaarkloof; to pick a trail between the lakes of Chrissiesmeer; to ford a swollen Tinana River; to negotiate the 22 gates of the Saaipad or scale the locked gates of Banderlierkop, the Letaba valley, Perdekraal and Anysberg; to follow the migration routes of the antelope and the journeys of Burchell and Gordon and the early settlers, all of which Kevin does. To be able to travel in this manner is to be able to experience some of the true splendour of South Africa and to enjoy the country in all her glory.
With a mountain bike it is also possible to overcome some of the social and cultural barriers that constrain us. Repeatedly as we follow Kevin’s journey, we see the willingness of people to engage with a sole mountain biker. However, the engagement is not limited to offers of lifts or polite enquiries about the rider’s well being, from where he is coming or to where he is going, for those enquiries are a constant refrain that follows a rider across the country. The engagement extends to the many offers of hospitality and assistance that Kevin was constantly receiving. As I read of these I am again struck by the incredible generosity of the people living in the rural parts of this land; people willing to invite into their houses, to share their meals and their drinking water, to offer up their beds to a complete stranger on a bicycle. To be able to experience this is to be able to experience the soul of South Africa.
In undertaking such journeys we not only learn more of the country and her people but we learn more of ourselves. As Kevin battles the hak-en-steek of Kranskloof and the sleet around Sterkfontein he battles with himself. So it is with such expedition rides. A path to Taung that was good riding six months ago might be overgrown when we next get to visit it; we might end up on the wrong side of a forest in the Kasteelberg; we are swallowed by the thick reeds of the Stettynskloof. Such incidents force us to search the inner depths of our souls and it is in our response that we are measured. We learn to appreciate a bike that works, a dry place to sleep, a pair of R10 leather gloves, a new pair of riding shoes, a cold drink (still generically called a Groovy in some of the rural spaza shops) or a packet of lemon cream biscuits. We learn to be humble.
There are other times in this book when we are afforded a glimpse into Kevin’s soul. We read of how he rages against the wind at the Patat River. We witness the quiet focus it takes for him to ride from Beit Bridge to Cape Point, following trails and dirt roads, in 30 days; the resolution that it requires to pass up an offer of a warm fire, a good meal and a comfortable bed for the night because its only 3pm and there is still daylight in which to cycle.
But it is not all grind and grime. The explosion of mountain biking racing in South Africa is no doubt the precursor to what Kevin describes as a growth in “bikepacking” – offroad touring by mountain bike. Through pioneering rides such as his Gannaride, Kevin is introducing us to otherwise hidden treasures. He is opening up parts of the country to the rest of us. Whilst we share his battle to find a path through the Ngodwana valley or his abortive trip up the Namahadi Pass, and may in time choose to avoid these, we are able to delight in his route through the Ndawana valley to the Umzimvubu. There is a small community of mountain bikers out there, blazing trails. Their willingness to share their routes and experiences makes it easier for those who ride after them.
We can engage with this country superficially and as passersby or we can endeavour to understand some of its complex, at times painful, but often rich and rewarding history. In his journeys through the country Kevin engages with the landscape of Elandslaagte and various Anglo Boer (or South Africa) War battle sites; he grapples with the genocide of the bushmen; he quietly delights in unveiling the existence of the /Xegwi; his cry “I am ganna” resonates through his account of his travels. In engaging with the country in the manner that he does, he gives truth to the statement made by him to old man Dippenaar at the foot of the Normandien Pass “I am a South African”.
This book successfully, albeit at times in an understated manner, gives insight into the intensity of specific moments and experiences during his journeys. However, it fails in that it does not give sufficient sense of the majesty of the mountains, of the vistas of valleys and hills that open up as one rides it, of the vastness of the country. It does not do so simply because it cannot. To experience this it is necessary to get out there and ride it.
As the Freedom Challenge may have provided the spark for Kevin to embark on a mountain biking journey that culminated in this book, it is my sincere hope that this book provides the spark for at least some of its readers to get out maps, to plan routes and to start discovering for themselves the soul of mountain biking.
Wellington
October 2012
