I am seated at the end of a beautiful wooden dining table in the household of a generous lawyer. Abstract art and the horns of various antelope species adorn the walls. I'm only one of five younger folk who seems to be frequenting this house and we're all (along with our lawyer friend) soon heading to "Cape Town Fish Market", a popular restaurant in town. I'm still reeling somewhat from the last few days, let alone the last three weeks, as I recalibrate here in Windhoek, Namibia.
It's remarkable how unpredictably circumstances can take shape on the road. Just yesterday, I awoke in an off-grid cabin in the bush of the "Khomas Hochlande", a nearby wilderness. Today, I already have a whole new crew of people from whom I'm learning all about the city.
I'm in no rush to leave Windhoek. I have a backlog of work, writing, and video editing to catch up on, and I'd like to make some repairs and upgrades to my motorcycle and filming equipment. Windhoek is the last city with any reasonably familiar infrastructure, so this is a crucial stop. This is my opportunity to prepare for the next layer of Africa
"A good traveller has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving" -Lao Tzu
I should explain myself
I would have liked to post more frequently over the last few weeks. My initial thought was that once a week would be nice, but this initial phase of the journey has been a push to reach friends in the Hochlande. A beautiful push. A breathtaking push. Amongst the conceptual ideas I've had in mind for this adventure, I've been reminded that my soul would be cracked open, too.
So I'd like to apologize for my sporadic posts. I'm aiming for consistency but Africa has its own rules I need to play by. Africa feels so far away from the outside world. It's a dream I don't seem to wake up from. It has also been challenging, which is exactly what I signed up for.
Everything is broken
I'm broken, the motorcycle is broken, and I love it.
Nothing is seriously broken (please relax, mom), but I haven't had the opportunity to stay anywhere for long since the journey began. I've covered at least 1000km of dirt roads since then (some immaculate, some the opposite), which has taken its toll on myself and the bike.
Goodness gracious Namibia is fun on a motorcycle. They maintain their roads really well here. I've since come across a common quip that, "Namibia's dirt roads are better than South Africa's paved roads". It's not too far from the truth in my experiences so far.
The motorcycle
How is the bike broken? Two of those welds in the rear frame have both cracked again (already a non-issue thanks to hooked heavy-duty rubber bands from Canada, and redistributed weight). I need to replace the rear tire and sprocket - maybe the chain, too. My head light has been fine, but my flood lights still need to be re-installed properly. My cone filters have proven to be a chore despite how pleasing they are to the eye. I think my rear tail light isn't working at the moment, either.
All these repairs are standard. What's beautiful is that the engine still sings like a sewing machine. These Yamaha XT350's are known to be bulletproof and I still have no doubts in any of it's crucial components. I tend to attract a lot of attention from motorcycle and 4x4 enthusiasts when I stop at gas stations; it's comforting when they often say, "these things just don't die".
I was advised in Upington, South Africa that my cone filters would likely be my biggest risk factor while crossing Namibia. This place is dry and dusty, which can quickly spell the end for any engine if not looked after properly. I've been cleaning my filters after every day on the dirt and the difference in performance is evident. By the end of each day, my engine is less responsive to the throttle as it gasps for air through the dust-clogged filters.
I believe this led to the accelerated deterioration of that carburetor manifold I noticed back in the beginning. I have since kept the replacement part with me until necessary to install. Once these cone filters started getting clogged, increased suction forced air to bypass the filters through the faulty (and worsening) manifold, which quickly brought the motorcycle to a state of sputtering near-uselessness. The spare part has since been installed and all is well.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
For anyone who has read this book, you'll know that it hardly talks about motorcycle maintenance at all. Instead, Robert M. Persig spirals into a "hyperintellectual" examination of the idea of what "quality" is, sparing no detail and ruthlessly severing any definition that detracts from the "quality" of "quality". The author's mental health soon succumbs to his pernicious obsession with the concept.
Despite this, my impression of the book still manages to mirror my experiences in motorcycle maintenance. Packaging my entire life onto two wheels has become an obsession I love to iterate upon. I don't fear for my mental health, but I can already tell that prolonging this lifestyle certainly won't leave my world views in tact. I found this book amongst a collection of hard-core buddhist texts while at a book shop in Leh, Ladakh in India back in 2015. Reading it while at a home-stay with a local family in a herding village was an ideal setting.
There's something incredibly satisfying about carrying tools to make repairs anywhere you go. For me, there's an elegance to this type of self reliance in balance with carrying only the most necessary tools and parts. It's all too easy to pack too much at the expense of traveling light.
I highly recommend Ralph Waldo Emerson's short essay on self reliance.
“[Self Reliance] contains the most thorough statement of one of Emerson's recurrent themes: the need for each individual to avoid conformity and false consistency, and follow his own instincts and ideas.”
Me
How am I broken? Somewhat in body and only slightly in mind. My soul is a whole other story.
My body
I've been feeling pretty darn well this whole time. I spend all day outside on a diet of delicious droewors and in-season naartjies with steady shots of adrenaline and awe.
The trouble has come in just the last week. I drank some bad water while at Namibia's Spitzkoppe, draining all my energy, but I still had to reach my friends in the Hochlande. I'm going to elaborate more on this later, but this was the hardest, as well as an incredibly beautiful, day. It took me hours to pack up camp before riding for about 4 hours to reach my friends. I'm nearly back to 100% now, thankfully.
I also have a growing concern over my hearing. Despite buying the best hearing protection I could get my hands on, my ears are ringing as I lay in bed each night. It has been a strong push lately, but improving this situation is a priority while here in Windhoek. Sacrificing my hearing just isnt worth it.
My hands seem to be changing because I'm constantly toiling with luggage, tools, and equipment in this dry and dusty climate. My fingertips have been somewhat swollen and tingling for the past two weeks and I really enjoy the feeling. I'm adapting.
My mind
I feel as sharp as ever despite the impressive volume of wine and brandy people consume this side of the world. Where my mind is mending is on the inaccuracies of the assumptions predicating my understanding of African geography, culture, issues, and technology. It's immensely fascinating, but my misconceptions are consequential to the practicalities of my journey.
This is a bit much to unpack for now so I'm going to leave it for an upcoming post. Part of the whole point of this journey is to challenge my assumptions of Africa, and Windhoek is my first big stop to reflect on what I've learned. This is my opportunity to make a calculated pivot, if necessary.
My soul
In my next post I'm going to reflect on everything that has happened since I left Witsand on South Africa's coast. Weather was a strong pain point back then, which propelled many of my decisions leading to Namibia.
It was trial by fire (or ice, rather) once I left Witsand, and something strange started happening to me once I entered the Karoo desert. This is where I was reminded about the personal transformation this journey would require. This is where my soul started kicking back against the gravity of the adventure that lies ahead.
Lots to discuss in the next few posts. For now, I have a few more local hangouts to explore with my Windhoek crew. I seem to be immersed in a locus of Southern African beauty pageant enthusiasts. So random.
More posts soon to come,
G
Good stuff Gerrit. Enjoy !