Loch Sport ride report Nov 2021

Preface

It is a weird sensation when your expensive, well-balanced adventure bike becomes squirmish underneath you. Like a lizard tail hurrying across the desert sand. Even scary when it happens the 1st time. What the 🤬, is my front wheel lose? Are my tires flat? My handlebar has come undone? The lads on Facebook debated 50/50 Motoz, 10W fork oil and full synthetic. Lying bastards!

I fondly remember the 1st time being invited to Loch Sport sandy tracks. Long before pandemics and such. The only symptoms were nervous tension medicated with confident courage. Maybe Loch Sport sandy tracks are one of those places many speak of…” you either love it or hate it” No shades of grey. Not even 50 as I found out with my 2nd visit to Loch Sport sandy tracks. With a fever-ridden bike, the weekend turned into no riding and a lucky lift back home for us both.

No dwelling on the past. This was visit no 3 and we were all desperate to celebrate being outbound. A merry band of 7 Madcat riders. R0bb0 Hood stayed home. His responsibilities with another band of merry Madcat riders. All of us eager to steal a rich passage and feed our poor, adrenalin-depleted core. 

Day 1

Each found their way there. Most arrived late Friday afternoon. 1st on the scene was Laurie and a mighty DR 650. We, the wife and I, arrived shortly after. Ian, el-presidentè, arrived next. While we exchanged pleasantries and started to erect Taj Mahal II, Colin arrived with his 690 thum-pocalypse. 

The camp started taking shape. Gazebo up, sleeping quarters up, and at late last Jonathan and Gail with a pair of Suzzy Q VStrom 650’s. “Quick, let’s get your tent up before dark. The pub is calling”. Hearty meal indeed. 

Day one ended around the fire sending good vibes to the weather gods.

Day 2

Joe arrived on the dreamy triple 900. Left MEL at 5 in the AM on day 2, Saturday, to be in time for the giant fella at Lochy Coffee to serve us breakfast and a cuppa.

Then, check fuel, check tires. Off we go following “Sat morning (easy) .gpx”. Turning off the blacktop brings us to a halt. Let’s get some practice in. Let all know what is the worst they can expect from the day. Colin leads the way with a roost of sand coming out from underneath the back wheel. Braap, braap and away. To infinity and beyond. 1 by 1 we learned that he made it look easy with his Enduro training received as a young adult. A couple of more practice runs and on we went. Following Colin’s signature in the sand. We steadily worked our way through the ride as the wildlife (mozzies) pestered us relentlessly. One has no time to enjoy the beauty of the scenic route or the occasional Emu with their young scurrying for shelter to avoid the loud braap coming from the mufflers. Too damn busy concentrating staying upright on one’s wiggly, rodeo ready Brumbie. “Sat morning (easy)” track 75% completed we returned to the camp to avoid the midday heat. This would give all an opportunity to contemplate sand riding theory. Some even behind closed eyes for a bit of concentration. 

The afternoon ride saw us completing the route we set out on in the morning and then some. 

Now, if the rain could just give us a small gap to cook up an open coal bbq. Fondly referred to as a “braai” if there is a South African expat or two nearby.

 

Day 3

Sunday morning, as most started the responsible early pack-up Colin uttered what a shame it is that there is nobody going for a squirt this morning. No more needed to be said. The need to complete the 2nd .gpx route was a go. Or was it a challenge? Colin and Marty quickly got geared up, hardly a moment to swallow the last bit of breakfast oats. This route is more challenging with deeper sand and some uphills and plenty of “o’ shit” moments. We mostly managed to keep the bikes upright. My job is complete. Thankful to have had the company, thankful to have had the shared experience, thankful for no serious injuries. A man can not ask for a more romantic weekend 😜🤣.

By Martin Vorster.

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