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To Hell and Back

It’s still hot, but Die Hel is not what it used to be. Nowadays you can saddle off, make yourself at home in an easy chair and quench your thirst with a variety of drinks. And, if you have the presence of mind to phone ahead, you can sit down to a plate of boerekos. Oh, and the old proverb gets it all wrong. The road there is not paved – and certainly not with good intentions. It’s passable when dry, a good gravel road, which for 90% of the way is not at all difficult. But then there is the other 10% …

But let’s begin at the beginning. Die Hel is actually Gamkaskloof. And it is still one of those destinations that the South African adventure rider regards as something of a trophy: if you haven’t been there yet, you can’t really talk on equal terms with The Experienced.

One of the best ways to do this ride is to spend a night in Oudtshoorn before you start so that you have plenty of time to explore the Kloof. In fact, you can also sleep over there in one of the old houses with their thick walls and twilit coolness. Last time we approached from Van Wyksdorp. We first crossed the Rooiberg Pass, enjoyed coffee and the best apple tart in the Little Karoo at Calitzdorp, then took the Groenfontein road to the Swartberg Pass.

It was my first trip with photographer Adriaan Oosthuizen – that’s right, the man who is responsible for the photographs in this book. My old friend Jan du Toit was with us too and the young Dr Paul Theron, who looks as if he has just stepped out of a hospital soapie.

Adriaan was soon christened ‘Skillie’, for skilpad, or tortoise. Not because it was hard for him to come out of his shell, but due to his diligence in taking pictures, which affected our speed somewhat. It was indeed Skillie’s fault that we were so boisterous that day. We said he was too slow and he argued he could keep up when the pressure was on. So we said, ‘Show us’ and he said, ‘I will’.

About 53,7 km beyond Oudtshoorn (or 1 km past the Voortrekker memorial sign high up in the Swartberg Pass) turn left. There is a clear road sign. It says ‘Gamkaskloof Die Hel’ – just to make doubly sure.

On an earlier winter trip the snow lay thick up in the mountain and the ride was unmitigated … well, hell, slip-sliding through the mud, with dense mist and icy, icy cold. But on the Skillie Expedition the weather and road surface were perfect. So we pushed on.

Funny how quickly a bunch of responsible adult males can regress to nine-year-old boys throwing caution to the wind …

For the first few kilometres we looked back often to check whether Adriaan was keeping up. But Skillie was burning up the track. A little bit faster, another glance over the shoulder, and Adriaan was just behind us.

Then we let rip.

This is not the right thing to do. First, you will miss the incredible landscape. The magnificent rock formations, the colours that change from diluted pastels to deep shades of oil paint as you drop further down, the klipspringers that dart off on their sure little hooves, the rivulets that glint deep in the ravines.

Second, a very sharp bend will catch you out sooner or later, because this route has more kinks than a Bryan Habana dash for the try line. Third, an unsuspecting baboon is going to get a horrible fright and run across the road in front of you if you come around a bend too fast.

And, fourth, there is the other 10% I mentioned earlier: that final downhill section to Die Hel that you must negotiate with care and at a snail’s pace if you want to get down in one piece.

The hairpin bend nearly got us: an instant of intense anxiety and a flood of adrenaline as the sheer drop opened its throat to swallow us, and in the nick of time I remembered the advice, ‘Watch the road, not the threat (more about that later).’ We continued to race on, our hearts in our mouths.

And there was the baboon that bellowed like a bull and dashed like a hairy bolt of lightning across the dusty road. Afterwards we couldn’t tell who had got the biggest fright. But the final drop, that visually intimidating kilometre or two, one hairpin bend after the next, with the Kloof so incredibly sheer and deep below, was simply too dangerous to attempt in nine-year-old mode.

So we all turned into tortoises. Forced back to our senses by the road, yes. But also by the history of this valley. And the people who came this way before us. And the mountains and valley and the blue heaven.

A last bit of advice: eat with tant Annetjie Joubert and her people, but also venture deeper in, over the confluence of the Dwyka and Gamka rivers, to Nature Conservation. Go and talk to the oom there about the giant puff adder in the bottle. Let him tell you the whole story.

And then ride, slowly and steadily, like grown-ups, all the way back to Prince Albert. And don’t think of calling anyone ‘Skillie’.

Route grading

2 (down in the valley it might be a 3)

Starting point

Oudtshoorn

Distance

From Oudtshoorn to Die Hel the distance is 103 km. The full distance from Oudtshoorn to Prince Albert is 170 km.

Duration

Take it easy and allow the whole day for the trip, so you can see everything properly and enjoy it. Sometimes it’s a good thing to be more like a tortoise.