NICK YELL | Lose — and find — yourself on a bike between the Bokkeveldberge and Tankwa Karoo

I’ve been looking forward to brunch at one of my favourite padstals since leaving Britannia Bay a few hours ago. But among the other tongue-in-cheek reasons posted on the entrance gate to the Baghdad Café why it’s closed, is that it’s Monday; perhaps not the best day to travel, yet always a good way to avoid the Monday blues.

Considerately, the chair on the roadside under a large acacia tree, normally occupied by a traffic cop manikin, has been left out and I gratefully fold my tired body into it. It’s been ages since I’ve taken my old adventure motorbike walkabout, and my joints are feeling it. But the water from my hydration pack and a packet of nuts soon replenish the body while the arresting view of the Matsikammaberge and the breeze over the Knersvlakte (named for the sound wagon wheels made crunching the stones) restores my meditative mien.

I’m on my way to Grasberg Farm on the escarpment of the northern Bokkeveldberge. It’s a unique, relatively well-watered part of the Hantam Karoo I was unfamiliar with until 2019. On that first trip, I teamed up with the owner of the farm, fellow 4x4 enthusiast and adventure motorbike rider Ernst Kotze. The first time we descended the rustic Die-hel-se-pad Pass to the Knersvlakte was in a 4x4. We then followed farm tracks and sections of Transnet’s Saldanha-Sishen railway service road until we circled back and summited the artisanal Bloukop Pass, a jeep track gouged from rutted red earth, stone and rock, logging 123km before arriving back at the farm for well-earned refreshments.

I returned later that year to tackle the same route on my adventure motorbike, a much more exhilarating, exacting task than in a modern 4x4. I got a sense of why early European explorers needed 50 oxen to pull one wagon to the top. On that trip Kotze pointed out a mountain spur, Engelsepunt, named for the British soldier who, as part of a force trying to relieve Calvinia (under the tyranny of Commandant Nieuwoudt at the time), was so exhausted and fed up with the ineptitude of his directionless leaders that he stayed behind on the “bloody hill” and established a farm there when the war was over.

When I arrive at my By-die-Dam cottage on Grasberg farm later, the empty dam (it apparently fills up in winter and remains so until December) causes me to chuckle, reminding me of the Bosman-like story of David Ockhuis. A farmer of yore in the desiccated environs of modern-day Putsonderwater, he and his son dug a deep well that kept their family adequately supplied with water. But when he was asked by the water and land-hungry Trekboers if he had a well, he always replied: “Ja meneer, ek het ‘n put, maar dit is ‘n put sonder water.” (Yes, sir, I have a well, but it’s a well without water).

On the Sonop Trail early the next morning, a flock of sheep notice my approach and scamper off into the scrub. But one lamb lies motionless, oblivious the others have left. I approach it, thinking it may have succumbed to the early morning cold, but when I’m a few metres away it jumps up, head-butts my knee and runs off in the direction of the others.

I take this as my cue to stop disturbing the resident fauna and explore the old Dassie maze on the banks of a nearby river instead. En route I pass the house that belonged to Herman and Hester Buhr, the latter being one of Elias Nel’s (Grasberg’s original owner) two daughters. Though her parents weren’t keen on her dating a foreigner (Herman emigrated to South Africa from Germany at age 19 and worked for the shopkeeper on Grasberg) the couple still married and had nine children.

With the bike packed, I head south towards the Tankwa Karoo the next morning. It’s a grey and drizzly day and once again I’m cheated out of breakfast. No eateries appear to be trading in Nieuwoudtville. I later learn most only open during flower season. Still, I’m loaded with enough water and road snacks to fuel me for the rigours of the road ahead.

It’s only a 151km dirt-track journey to my Tankwa Tented Camp destination, but with the road a rutted jeep track in places, it takes me the better part of four hours to get to the turn-off from the R355. After heavy rains here early in April, the ride into the tented camp is more enduro than dirt tracking, but I arrive wide awake and smiling broadly.

With the bike packed, I head south towards the Tankwa Karoo the next morning. It’s a grey and drizzly day and once again I’m cheated out of breakfast. No eateries appear to be trading in Nieuwoudtville. I later learn most only open during flower season.

An ice-cold Coke in the Onverklaar Bar is followed by a humungous toasted cheese and tomato sandwich with chips, kindly delivered to my “Spykertjie” caravan digs for the night. All regrets of missing breakfast are fast eclipsed and after changing and unpacking I head off to explore some mysterious-looking sculptures on my near and far horizons.

Henk van Niekerk, who bought the farm in 2002, primarily as a remote getaway destination for adventure bikers like himself, tells me that many of the artworks in the veld are products of a partnership he and his partners have with Artscape. Every year they host artists from all over the world who get creative in these thought-provoking surrounds and leave their artworks behind, creating a veritable gallery in this brittle yet invigorating landscape.

After a simple yet delicious braai-pack dinner accompanied by an excellent Montagu cabernet sauvignon (2022), I head back to my caravan and drag my chair into the veld for some stargazing. The firmament puts on a spectacular display — the most densely populated night sky I’ve ever seen — and I rue the fact I don’t have my SLR camera with me to capture it.

What I gladly didn’t forget was insect repellent. It successfully staves off squadrons of mosquitoes. I therefore get a good night’s sleep and set off for breakfast at the Tankwa Padstal (70km) the next morning.

Did I “lose myself and find myself at the same time” as the Tankwa Tented Camp’s website said I might? Well, yes and no, but I certainly found great hospitality and acres of peace.

Travel Notes:

Getting there: Grasberg guest farm is 365km (via the N7, R27 and 8km dirt track) north of Cape Town, while the Tankwa Tented Camp is 306km (via the N1, R43, R46 and R355 — 115km dirt) northeast of Cape Town.

My route: Approaching Grasberg from the West Coast, I rode via Velddrif, Lambert’s Bay, the rutted 49km dirt track between there and Vredendal, and then the R27 through Vanrhynsdorp to Nieuwoudtville — it’s 10km (8km on dirt) to Grasberg Farm. If you have a high clearance SUV (4x4 essential in the rainy season), then following my dirt track journey (use Slingsby’s Tankwa Karoo Map) onwards to Tankwa Tented Camp (TTC) is recommended. Head south from Nieuwoudtville on the DR2276 and pass Papkuilsfontein Farm 24km from town. Continue straight and cross over a four-way junction after 11km. After 12km you will cross the R364. Follow the 32km dirt track to the Soutpan T-Junction. Turn right here and follow the rustic farm track through some farm gates, turning left towards Die Bos after 12km. Make your way to the R355 (about 10km), then turn right and find the TTC turn-off after 35km ― TTC is 5km away.

What’s on offer: Grasberg Guest Farm is a working farm getaway where you can chill, read and walk. Other activities and nearby attractions include the Nieuwoudtville Falls; the Windpump Museum in Loeriesfontein; the Hantam Botanical Garden; and the Glacial Pavement site 9km from Nieuwoudtville.

Tankwa Tented Camp offers various types of accommodation, the comfort of a restaurant and bar, plus the opportunity to explore the surrounding veld and its one-of-a-kind artworks.

Where I stayed: By-die-Dam cottage on Grasberg Farm (R1,050 per night ― can sleep five at a squeeze) and rustic Spykertjie caravan at Tankwa Tented Camp (R500 per night, single).

Best time of year to go: Grasberg Farm and Tankwa Tented Camp are best visited between April and October, though spring is optimum.