Оглавление
Деон Мейер. Dirt Busters
Introduction – Deon Meyer
To Hell and Back
The secret of the Rooiberg Mountains
In Calitzdorp’s backyard
When you think you’ve seen it all: Cloete’s Pass
Seweweekspoort
The unexpected beauty (and baboons) of the Witteberg
The old Montagu Pass
Follow the Kammanassie (Oudtshoorn to Uniondale)
The Marlboro man in the Knysna forest
Sutherland and Merweville
The two most beautiful passes in the upper Karoo
Cederberg magic
A s*** road on the West Coast
Burger fever in the bundu (Vredendal to Springbok)
A day trip from Cape Town
The other Oorlogskloof
Memel
Forgotten Monantsa (the eastern Free State and Lesotho)
Enchanting Moolmanshoek
The dominee and the sports bike
ABS in the Mail Coach Pass
(Far) Waterberg
Paulpietersburg
Staaljan in Perdekloof
When pigs fly in Loxton
The Tankwa-Karoo
Papkuilsfontein
Baviaanskloof
All roads lead to Rietbron
A snake in the grass: Following the Tarka and Baviaans rivers
Gariep to Steynsburg
Along the Mountain Zebra National Park (Cradock to Somerset East)
Sundays River: Jansenville to Graaff-Reinet
At the heart of the matter: fear, ego and traction
The Three Commandments for surviving dirt roads
The Third Commandment: OPEN UP
Momentum (inertia)
The First Commandment: STAND UP
The finer points of standing up
Setting your bike up for standing
The consequences of standing up
Fringe benefits
The Second Commandment: LOOK UP
At full throttle
Emergency braking
Accidents … and how to avoid them
Master the terrain I
Master the terrain II
Settings: suspension
Settings: tyres
Head to toe: protective gear
Riding suits, gloves and boots
Buying the right bike
Epilogue: The spirit of adventure
Acknowledgements
About the book
About the authors
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Text by DEON MEYER
Photography by ADRIAAN OOSTHUIZEN
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You go places that even 4×4s can’t – like the sandy footpaths between Melkbosstrand and the West Coast road, the spooky bluegum forest on Jan’s farm in Amersfoort and the swimming hole at Klipbokkop Mountain Reserve near Worcester. I describe, with growing passion, the thick, white sand of Mozambique. I explain how you can gallop with giraffe through the Pongola Game Reserve, explore muddy mountain trails on paunchy ridges protruding from Lesotho, beyond Rhodes. I so badly want them to understand, to fire them up. If they could only once share in the camaraderie of four or five or six motorbikes in high-speed convoy, or experience the sensation of a sliding rear wheel that you straighten out with the power of the accelerator round a curve.
But not everyone gets it. I never say so, but I think it must be in your genes. I imagine how a million years ago there must have been primitive people who, when they saw a game trail winding up a mountainside, felt an irrepressible urge somewhere deep inside them to follow it. Just to see what was on the other side and to keep on walking.
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