I live in the Klein Karoo (Little Karoo) where the vistas are on a slightly diminished scale compared to the Greater Karoo, the wings of the horizon clipped by staggeringly beautiful in-your-face mountains and air so clear that the mountains themselves look like they have been photo-shopped. But the philosophy of the land is much the same as the Greater Karoo. Everything that lives here lies in a constant state of readiness to sting, scratch, bite or plain eat you...including the plants.
The climate itself is either indistinguishable from a microwave, or like a deep freeze preserving you (post sting, bite or scratch) for later putrefaction in the microwave. Everything has its seasons, or so you would think. Last week Bronwyn came back from her morning run looking a little frazzled after nearly treading on a puff adder on the driveway (which is 4kms long...driveway, not puff adder) who clearly hadn’t got the office memo about summer being snake season.
If you had participated in the Cape Pioneer Trek this year you would be more than familiar with the damage a swarm of migrating bees can do. I understand the George (town not bloke) evac helicopter was kept quite busy with the carnage. LOL.
If you have done the Karoo to Coast race you will be familiar with the “Old Wagon Path” at the beginning of the race. This is a 4 km climb at 10% that is very technical at any time of the year except race time when Jimmy Zondac grades it. The rains have started in my part of the world though, so its back to all its rough and ready glory. Proper mountain biking.
My intention to do hill repeats yesterday was ruined by the “office postal system” which clearly screwed up telling the bees that spring is “hive migration time”. Doing hill repeats on this stretch of trail requires an iPod playing punk very loud, thus it was only the first sting to my head that alerted me to the fact I had ridden into a cloud of bees. The first sting tells all 10 000 others where to attack, so I did the sensible thing and dropped my bike on the spot and jumped straight off the side of the road, a drop of some 5 meters thanks to the astonishing stone work of that Bain bloke who built all the ancient wagon roads down here.
I escaped with just one sting. There was nobody watching, except some baboons that I swear were snickering, so my pride was not all that was damaged. I crept back down wind, climbed back to the road and retrieved my bike. The swarm had passed.
If you are one of those interesting people (we ALL know that latex cat suits, zippers, whips and handcuffs figure largely in you private life) and who intend to ride the TransKaroo MTBtour with a hydration pack make certain you don’t spill anything sweet and wet on it. The bees are thirsty and hungry at the minute, and those paks are hard to get off fast.
I live in the Klein Karoo (Little Karoo) where the vistas are on a slightly diminished scale compared to the Greater Karoo, the wings of the horizon clipped by staggeringly beautiful in-your-face mountains and air so clear that the mountains themselves look like they have been photo-shopped. But the philosophy of the land is much the same as the Greater Karoo. Everything that lives here lies in a constant state of readiness to sting, scratch, bite or plain eat you...including the plants.
The climate itself is either indistinguishable from a microwave, or like a deep freeze preserving you (post sting, bite or scratch) for later putrefaction in the microwave. Everything has its seasons, or so you would think. Last week Bronwyn came back from her morning run looking a little frazzled after nearly treading on a puff adder on the driveway (which is 4kms long...driveway, not puff adder) who clearly hadn’t got the office memo about summer being snake season.
If you had participated in the Cape Pioneer Trek this year you would be more than familiar with the damage a swarm of migrating bees can do. I understand the George (town not bloke) evac helicopter was kept quite busy with the carnage. LOL.
If you have done the Karoo to Coast race you will be familiar with the “Old Wagon Path” at the beginning of the race. This is a 4 km climb at 10% that is very technical at any time of the year except race time when Jimmy Zondac grades it. The rains have started in my part of the world though, so its back to all its rough and ready glory. Proper mountain biking.
My intention to do hill repeats yesterday was ruined by the “office postal system” which clearly screwed up telling the bees that spring is “hive migration time”. Doing hill repeats on this stretch of trail requires an iPod playing punk very loud, thus it was only the first sting to my head that alerted me to the fact I had ridden into a cloud of bees. The first sting tells all 10 000 others where to attack, so I did the sensible thing and dropped my bike on the spot and jumped straight off the side of the road, a drop of some 5 meters thanks to the astonishing stone work of that Bain bloke who built all the ancient wagon roads down here.
I escaped with just one sting. There was nobody watching, except some baboons that I swear were snickering, so my pride was not all that was damaged. I crept back down wind, climbed back to the road and retrieved my bike. The swarm had passed.
If you are one of those interesting people (we ALL know that latex cat suits, zippers, whips and handcuffs figure largely in you private life) and who intend to ride the TransKaroo MTBtour with a hydration pack make certain you don’t spill anything sweet and wet on it. The bees are thirsty and hungry at the minute, and those paks are hard to get off fast.
The climate itself is either indistinguishable from a microwave, or like a deep freeze preserving you (post sting, bite or scratch) for later putrefaction in the microwave. Everything has its seasons, or so you would think. Last week Bronwyn came back from her morning run looking a little frazzled after nearly treading on a puff adder on the driveway (which is 4kms long...driveway, not puff adder) who clearly hadn’t got the office memo about summer being snake season.
If you had participated in the Cape Pioneer Trek this year you would be more than familiar with the damage a swarm of migrating bees can do. I understand the George (town not bloke) evac helicopter was kept quite busy with the carnage. LOL.
If you have done the Karoo to Coast race you will be familiar with the “Old Wagon Path” at the beginning of the race. This is a 4 km climb at 10% that is very technical at any time of the year except race time when Jimmy Zondac grades it. The rains have started in my part of the world though, so its back to all its rough and ready glory. Proper mountain biking.
My intention to do hill repeats yesterday was ruined by the “office postal system” which clearly screwed up telling the bees that spring is “hive migration time”. Doing hill repeats on this stretch of trail requires an iPod playing punk very loud, thus it was only the first sting to my head that alerted me to the fact I had ridden into a cloud of bees. The first sting tells all 10 000 others where to attack, so I did the sensible thing and dropped my bike on the spot and jumped straight off the side of the road, a drop of some 5 meters thanks to the astonishing stone work of that Bain bloke who built all the ancient wagon roads down here.
I escaped with just one sting. There was nobody watching, except some baboons that I swear were snickering, so my pride was not all that was damaged. I crept back down wind, climbed back to the road and retrieved my bike. The swarm had passed.
If you are one of those interesting people (we ALL know that latex cat suits, zippers, whips and handcuffs figure largely in you private life) and who intend to ride the TransKaroo MTBtour with a hydration pack make certain you don’t spill anything sweet and wet on it. The bees are thirsty and hungry at the minute, and those paks are hard to get off fast.
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