Mighty Mouse vs. Raging Orange

26 December 2010 - 1 January 2011

It is dark around us, ten o’clock on a moonless New Years Eve. We are close to being engulfed by a raging river in the bone dry Richtersveld of all places!
The winch cable strains under tension. The rev-counter needle skirts just below the red, indicating the approaching limit of the engine’s power. Smoke and dust roil from the wheels and overrun my visibility.
A dusty, brown cloud floods into the cab through an open window. Grit stings my bloodshot eyes. I hear my two-year old daughter Miri’s concerned voice behind me.
My wife, Zanie, stands outside the Jimny’s blazing beams. Her calls guide me through the rocky obstructions rapidly being veiled by the cloak of dust. To our right the mighty Orange is overflowing its banks and rising threateningly.

Five days earlier we were in a completely different mood. We finally had the chance to go on holiday as a family. The Jimny was roughly six months old but already kitted out with a winch, suspension upgrade, all-terrain tyres and various little bling-bling modifications in preparation for holiday fun.
Miri, little over a month away from her third birthday, was very excited about our trip and had been diligent in her own preparations, sorting out essential toys and packing her Ben-10 sleeping bag and little camping chair.


Day 1-2 Sunday 26 December 2010
The first part of our week-long trip started with a lazy drive up the R27 along the West Coast. Just south of Elandsbaai was a Spoornet service road that took us around the left side of the Bobbejaansberg. It is a highly recommended detour with beautiful views of the ocean.
Closer to Elands Bay is the little Verlorevlei estuary which we crossed again and again and again until Zanie told me to cut it out. We emerged just behind the Elands Bay Hotel.

Crossing the Verlorevlei estuary at its shallowest point

Ahoy!

Miri plays with her cousins Gabi and Jack who we met up with in Lambert's Bay

After spending the night on friends’ farm near Doring Bay we continued our trek up the coast.
Our route took us up sandy jeeptracks all along ocean vistas. We passed places with colourful names such as Gert du Toit se Baai, Malkopbaai and Jurg se Kaja.

We joined friends at Doringbaai. Deon and I enjoy Miri's antics

Suzaan, Lizel and Miri swimming in a converted dam. Toffee the cat keeps vigil

Boesman the gentle horse and Whiskey the dog

Country girl

Good morning Boesman

Take me to your leader

C-c-cold water. Sandy tracks near Pikkers Bay, some 30km west of Koekenaap, lead to coastal vistas

My girls

Dr. Andrew Wright Memorial

We reached the Groen River estuary long after noon. From there we entered the Namaqua Coast National Park. The park had some seriously sandy tracks and for the first time on the trip I had to engage low-range, four-wheel drive.
We pulled into Hondeklipbaai right before sunset. We were surprised that the 280km day took 10hours to drive. The plan was to stealthcamp somewhere between the Aristea shipwreck and the De Beers gate, but the wind was howling along the beach.
Luckily there was an unfurnished tent available at the Skulpieskraal Tented Lodge for a lowly R50.

Sandy tracks

This Jeep got stuck and we helped to dig it up

Earning her keep by opening and closing gates

Day 3 Tuesday, 28 December 2010
After coffee and breakfast we packed up and made our way over to Koingnaas were we refuelled.
The Jimny ascended the Wildeperdehoek Pass equably. At the summit we turned left onto the bumpy Lower Buffelsrivier 4wd-trail.
It was a beautiful drive through dozens of tiny subsistence farms, occasionally offering great views over the surrounding Kammagas Mountains and Buffels River valley.
The trail itself was easily negotiable with just the last two or three kilometres consisting of a steep descent from the top of Biesiesberg. I engaged low-range and allowed the engine to arrest our speed as we lurched down the rocks.
The village of Buffelsrivier seemed quiet and relaxed. People were sitting in the shade talking and playing cards.

Wildeperdehoek Pass (Roughly translates as: Wild Horses Corner Pass)

Nama farm. Subsistence farming is traditional and popular in the area

Graffiti'd house in the village of Buffelsrivier

Card players sitting in the shade

Nama girls

Leaving the village behind, we made our way to the larger town of Komaggas. We stopped by a shop to buy Miri some sweets as a treat. Inside the store were several containers carrying all types of candy. Some I had not seen since my own childhood.
Jelly spiders with beady red eyes, marshmallow mice with black tails, sugar apricots with glossy orange cheeks, geometric wine gums, nickerballs of various densities and degrees of burn.
After waving goodbye to the children on the shop stoep we drove to Kleinsee. From there all that remained was the awful stretch to Port Nolloth. The badly corrugated road joggled the Jimny, making it sway and shimmy when I wasn’t giving its steering wheel my full attention. Miri complained bitterly as her toys bounced off her lap and once secure luggage encroached on her personal space. We were all glad when we finally bestrode the smooth tar roads of “The Port”.
That night we stayed at the Namaqua Experience Guest Lodge. It sounded exciting but in reality it was little more than a few gaily painted out-buildings and a communal TV/pool room. But it was good enough and a welcome sight after a long day.

The shop that sells all those lovely sweets. The name translates as: Help One-another

The Mission at Port Nolloth

Day 4 Wednesday, 29 December 2010
We wasted no time in getting going.
We drove the mind-numbingly straight tar road up the coast. A singular highlight was the Martian-red lichen fields midway between The Port and Alex.
The jewel of the upper West Coast was a bit run down since its glory days. Wooden fences and doorways in Alexander Bay were sun bleached and scoured bare by desert sand. Garage doors hung askew, revealing glimpses of rusting vehicles inside.
We drove deeper into the Sperrgebiet to the Orange River estuary where conservationists were laboriously erecting net screens in the damaged wetland in an attempt to resuscitate nature.

We left Alex and drove along the Orange to the mining town of Baken which looked markedly better and sported emerald green lawns amidst the glaringly pale and lifeless desert. Almost every house had a large metal mushroom sprouting from its roof. We supposed that they were industrial strength air conditioners.
Our next stop was Sendelingsdrift where we filled up with petrol one last time in 2010. We would be testing the frugality of the Jimny’s 40 litre fuel tank for the next two days. As backup we also filled a 10 litre jerrycan.

The road out of Baken

Wondergat (wonder hole) is a very, very deep hole. It was once thought to be practically bottomless but spelunkers have since fully explored it

The car ferry (or Pont) at Sendelingsdrif takes one over the Orange River to Namibia. The name 'Orange' is not for the colour of the water but rather in honour of the Prince of Orange, a Dutch Royal

After obtaining our permit we entered the Ai-Ais Richtersveld Transfrontier Park and headed up to Potjiespram, our campsite for the night.
Potjiespram was wonderful. Although it didn’t have any lawns, it had plenty trees and basic ablutions. Cleaners only visited once a week so the condition of the campsite was entirely up to the visitors, which was quite acceptable.

Miri running around inside the air-conditioned Parks offices

Inside the Richtersveld Transfrontier Park

The Bonsai

The Portal to Potjiespram. Potjiespram translates as: Pot-shaped breast, but the true meaning and pronunciation may be lost in antiquity

Our camp site

Rabobi. The Tswana name for Spiderman

Spotted Genet. This one had a missing leg so we named it Tripod

Day 5 Thursday, 30 December 2010
A short driving day lay ahead of us so we took our time cooking breakfast and enjoying coffee. Despite our vigilance a vervet monkey swooped out of nowhere and stole a bag of cookies much to Miri’s surprise. After another carefree swim in the river we packed up the last of our things and set off towards De Hoop camp.
Closer to De Hoop we encountered an extraordinary dolomite kloof where water literally sprung from the rocks. We stopped so that Miri could have a splash.

Vervet Monkey. No photoshop, their balls really are that blue!

Miri's nest in the back

Driving lessons. Never too young to start

Hand of God. A natural rock feature that resembles a hand print

Look at this one! Miri and I study tiny desert insects crawling and scurrying around the succulent mesems. What the Richtersveld lacks in big game, it more than makes up for in unusual insects and plants

A spring

There were a lot of campers at De Hoop. After our quiet drive it was something of a surprise to see so many people huddled together in the middle of nowhere. It looked welcoming and pleasant.
We didn’t linger because I wanted to drive the river route down to Tatasberg despite a park ranger’s cautious warnings that our vehicle wasn’t suited for that trail.
My biggest failing regarding our Jimny is my overreaction when someone tells me it isn’t a “real” 4x4. I get like Marty McFly in the Back to the Future movies when Biff the bully calls him “chicken”.
I just had to prove him wrong.

My wife wasn’t happy about my cavalier attitude but held her peace, allowing me to have my little “man moment”.
The Jimny conquered the sandy riverbed without a hitch, justifying my views of our little car... but no one was around to witness it.
More responsible males took the easier Route 7 through Maer Poort and avoided the sand altogether.
When we arrived at Tatasberg we were greeted by an aged but kindly caretaker.
The accommodations were excellent, well constructed and well equipped. We wanted for nothing. Clean bedding, cutlery, electricity, refrigeration, hot/cold water and a magnificent view over the river. Okay I confess that the cold tap actually produced warm water and the hot tap was best left alone. Our only real complaint involved a single, lone cube in the ice tray. Who one cube behind?!
Arriving early meant that we could spend the whole day lying about, reading and swimming. Another group arrived later in the afternoon. Their New Toyota Hilux 4x4 had taken the same river route as we had earlier in the day. Unfortunately they came away with a heavily damaged front bumper.

Our hut at Tatasberg

Cooling off in the river

Bath time

Day 6 Friday, 31 December 2010
I woke everyone early because I knew we had a long day ahead of us. It wasn’t the kilometres which bothered me but the route I had planned. I had no clear information on the condition of the trails but suspected it might be tough.
As we readied to depart we noticed that the river looked different. It was substantially broader. The grassy banks and rocky islands where we swam the previous day were all submerged. Somewhere upstream a lot of water was being released into the river. It was around this time that we learnt that the Vaal dam was at 104% and still releasing water a week after it had first opened its sluices. At the time it was just a mild curiosity and we didn’t see how it could impact on our continuing travels.
Leaving the park via Hells Pass was a real treat. Quiver trees were magnificently silhouetted on the ridges.
The fields of unique red aloes (Aloe pearsonii) near Paradysberg were even more impressive. There, in that one part of the park, was the only place on earth where they grew naturally. Miri turned out to be quite adept at spotting flora. She would call out by name every distant quiver tree or large aloe that she spotted first. Occasionally she insisted that she saw a jacaranda or agapanthus as well.

This picture was chosen for the cover for DriveOut magazine. Very pleased about that

And this picture won a photography competition in SA4x4 Magazine. Proud about that too!

Aloe

Red Aloe

Red Aloe

Departing from the park, we drove to the town of Kuboes where our first 4x4 trail of the day was to begin. Looking back on it now I freely admit that I bit off way more than I should have. Although the Jimny was more than equal to the trail, I was asking a bit much of my family.

My long-suffering wife wasn’t happy with the route we were taking. She was convinced by the 20year-old general survey map in her hands that we were heading for a cul-de-sac in some kloof.
I neglected to mention to her that my GPS had a route programmed on it that would safely lead us through the mountains.
At first I didn’t think much of this “offroad” route. It was very pretty but hardly more than a rough jeeptrack. A few kilometres after Whale Rock things livened up a bit though. The climb up the mountain was steep as heck.
There were rocky terraces that really tested the Jimny and I desperately wished for diff lockers as the tyres battled to find purchase on the sharp slate steps.
The mountains we climbed were enormous. The views from their backs were breathtaking. We climbed up and down along rocky paths for hours. Every time I thought we were nearing the end of the trail another track would appear in the distance leading even higher up the mountain range. Progress was very slow. Our position according to the GPS didn’t look right and the predicted ETA at our destination seemed like a spurious lie.
Some of the sections were so rough we were grateful of the seatbelts holding us down. Miri was a little annoyed with the shaking and implored me to provide a smooth ride. Zanie was having the toughest time of all. She had broken her neck six months ago in a serious car accident and had extensive surgery to fuse the shattered vertebrae. All this shaking was putting stress on her still-weakened neck muscles.

Ascending the Kuboes 4x4 trail

Scenic scrambles. The views over the Stinkfontein Mountains near Kuboes are just as great as the 3G cell phone signal at the top, so you can order pizza!

Heartbreak Hill. The Kuboes 4x4 Trail is deceptively steep and rock strewn. The track undulates up and down the rolling mountains, Great care should be taken not to damage your vehicle

The track finally descended down into the narrow Kookrivier gorge. The rocky ravine made for slow going but had stunningly sheer faces on either side. My gaze lingered too long on one such feature and I failed to notice a mother of a boulder right in front of us. With a tremendous bang the Jimny came to an abrupt halt. I was certain that I had broken something.
Crawling under the Jimny I noticed that the front axle was hung up on the rock and the rear wheels didn’t have adequate traction on the talus. So I jacked up the front axle and placed rocks under the tyres. We carefully drove off the rock and picked a better line past it.

High and dry. With an almighty bang the Jimny ran aground on a large rock in the Kookrivier Gorge, all because I didn't pay attention to the track ahead

The sun was already setting when we reached Eksteensfontein. Zanie suggested we consider a stealthcamp somewhere since we had everything we needed to keep us through the night. But I was adamant that we get to Bushwacked River Camp near Vioolsdrift where we had booked a spot. I suspect I may have had a bad case of target fixation.
I don’t rightly recall why I was being so pig headed, I’m not normally that bad. It certainly is never a good idea to go 4x4ing at night and yet I pushed on. In the dark I failed to find the correct turnoff to the road that leads to Kotzeshoop via Hellskloof Pass. In the confusion I bungled onto Rooiberg road.

Pitch Black

My wife grew despondent when it became clear that we were on yet another 4x4 trail. At least this one was substantially easier than the one outside Kuboes. All went well and we were making good time over private land until we came across the Orange River. The Rooiberg 4x4 trail apparently ended here. I wanted to push through, even if it meant going off-road.
We were just 15km away from our destination and there appeared to be faint vehicle tracks in the soft river bank. So off we went.

It was after 21h00 and we only had 14km to go to Bushwacked where the mother of all New Years parties awaited. Live music, cold beer, camp fires!
But it wasn’t long until the track disappeared. I tried my best to straddle low rocks and pick the best line through large boulders poking out of the soft sand. All the while I could sense the raging river a metre or two to our left.
We hopped one rocky ledge and practically fell over the other side.
Our vehicle was trapped in a circle of boulders, some almost monolithic. There was no way forward, we had to get out the way we “fell” in and find another way through the rocks. Fortunately the Jimny has a very tight turning circle and I managed to point it back the way we came in with just a few quick manoeuvres. But the turning had churned up the powdery, soft sand and the car was now buried up to its axles.
Ordinarily this would not be a problem as I could just rock my way out and speed away with the littlest momentum. Unfortunately I didn’t have room to use these tricks. The ledge in front of me was also too high to safely traverse even if I had run-up space.
By this time Miri had woken up again and was all groggy and confused. Mom and Dad were running around in the dark trying to find loose rocks to build a ramp before the river rose any higher. By now the water’s edge was just a metre away. The flood was clearly rising, albeit slowly. That damned Johnny Cash song got stuck in my head, the chorus looping over and over:

How high's the water, mama? Two feet high and risin'
How high's the water, papa? Two feet high and risin'
We can make it to the road in a homemade boat. That's the only thing we got left that'll float. It's already over all the wheat and the oats, Two feet high and risin'

We made time to console Miri and even managed to get her engrossed in what we were doing. She couldn’t be allowed to leave the vehicle because there were numerous scorpions crawling about the rocks. She held up very well for a small child which made me feel more than a little guilty for getting her into this mess.
When the construction was done I ran the winch cable out to a large boulder a few metres away. I began the recovery process and everything went well until a loud crack echoed over the whine of the winch and the roar of the engine.
The rock which I had looped the cable around had cracked in half.
We picked up heavy shards of freshly splintered rock and threw that on our “ramp” as well. I looped the cable around a bigger and sturdier rock and braced for the second attempt.
The winch strained and Zanie swore she saw sparks flying out of the motor, but together with grinding wheels we got the Jimny out of that hellish trap. Looking back I would gladly exchange every photo we took of the trip for just 10minutes of video footage of this event.
Once we discovered a better line through the rocks things went well. I drove more cautiously, taking time to consider every variable before climbing over a rock. It would have been far less daunting in daylight but at night it was horrible with the headlights spending half the time lighting up the sky instead of illuminating the ground. The Tracks4Africa GPS map flashed a warning: ‘Not Recommended’ and ‘Extreme rock drive’. I panicked for a moment but soon realised it was warning us about the section we had just come through.
We arrived at Bushwacked just before 23h00. The party was in full swing. We were knackered and filthy with dust.
The festivities went on late into the morning but we didn’t care. As tired as we were, we were also glad to have made it.


Day 7 Saturday, 1 January 2011
The next morning Zanie, Miri and I walked over to the river. This was our fourth visit to Bushwacked and we were shocked at how high the flood had risen. The bar area was just a metre or two above the waterline. Normally there is a grassy terrace with a little beach well below that. Now there was just an ominous mass of rushing brown water.
All the 4x4ing had drained the Jimny dry of fuel and I had no way of reaching Steinkopf as planned. So I smooth talked the border guards into allowing me to sneak over to Noordoewer, Namibia, unregistered.
We were meant to spend another two days on the road visiting Pella, Boesmanland, the Knersvlakte and the Cederberg Conservancy but we decided not to. Miri was a trooper and never complained, enjoying every minute of the trip but we felt that we had put her through enough adventure for now. We would return to complete the trip at another time.

The Beach below the bar is gone

The Bar at Bushwacked

On the road again...

*A few days after we were there the river completely burst its banks. Much of our vacation would have had to be cancelled had we left a week later. And if our Jimny was not recovered that same night, it most certainly would have been swept away by the following day.

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I want to go too!
How far did you travel? 2080km
How long did it take? 7 days
What was your top speed? 118km/h
What was your slowest average speed, and where? About 5km/h on the Kuboes 4WD-trail and the Rooiberg 4WD-trail
How long were you on the road? A total of 61 hours and 26 minutes – that’s an average of 8hours every day including stops.
4x4 or 4x2? Definitely 4x4. A 4x2 with good ground clearance could do most of the route but I would not take it on all the tracks we went.
What was your tyre pressure? I deflated them outside Koekenaap to 0,8 bar all round. It seems to be the perfect pressure for the Jimny as I don’t have to worry about tyres climbing off the alloy wheels. It also makes the best of corrugated roads.
Wasn’t the Jimny too small for such a holiday? No, it was perfect. We were forced to leave unnecessary nonsense behind.
How much did the trip cost? Acommodation R1 700, fuel R2 000, food R1 800 = Total R5 500
Average fuel consumption? 10.5km/litre, which isn’t bad considering how much time we spent in 4WD-Hi and Low Range.
Highlights? We each had our own personal highlights. Mine was perhaps the driving and the camping at Potjiespram.
And regrets? Driving that riverbank at night on New Year’s Eve.
Do you think your child was perhaps too young to go on such a trip? No. Voortrekkers gave birth on their treks and we were in a controlled environment with acceptable risks and no diseases. We wanted to expose her to these kind of experiences so that she will gladly go with us on other adventures.

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This story was published in the May 2011 issue of Drive Out magazine. It got eight pages plus the cover of which I am very proud. I also submitted a pic to SA4x4 and Overlanding magazine which won a prize in the April 2011 issue: A Frontrunner Roofrack valued at R6,000. Brilliant!