After an interesting breakfast of mealie pap and toast, I gave the bikes a once-over while Re packed up the room. The bikes finally seem to be broken in, as no adjustments were needed. One piece of equipment we are still missing is a gas can for Re's bike. We checked in a few stores in Hermanus but came up empty handed. So as we were returning the keys at the guesthouse, I asked the receptionist if she knew where we could get one. She assured me they would have them at the Total station on the way out of town. We stopped there and I went inside to ask for a gas can, and the lady behind the counter said they didn't have such a thing and directed me to one of the guys working the pumps (all gas in South Africa is full-serve). I asked him if he knew where to get a jerrycan, and he smiled and asked if a 5 liter can would be okay. Sure, I said, how much? 5 Rand (about 66 cents), he replied. Since the last gas can I bought in South Africa cost $17 USD, here is where I became a little suspicious. I followed him around to a door on the side of the building, which he opened to reveal a storage closet. He pulled out a 5 liter plastic bottle that formerly held some kind of cleaning fluid and was ignominiously hand-lettered with the word, “toilet” on the side. Awesome, I thought. He rinsed it out with some fresh (?) water and proceeded to fill it up with Total's finest dino squeezins. I just giggled as I carried it back to Re's bike and giggled even more as I strapped the toilet bottle to the front rack on her bike.



With that, we were off. Our route today took us west along the R44, taking us back through all the pretty scenery from a couple days ago, and when the R44 turned north, we continued on it through wine country. At one point along the coast, we stopped at a scenic overlook to refuel and were surprised when a sightseeing van unloaded next to us, and there were several Americans in the crowd. Some of them were from Washington state, and we ended up chatting with them for at least a half hour. They were incredulous that we are here on these bikes. We had a good time telling them all about our trip, bikes, and gear. The ride through the wine country was scenic and became more mountainous as the afternoon wore on. We eventually made it to the small town of Citrusdal, our destination for the evening. We rode through the orange orchards on our way to The Baths, our campsite for the night. The Baths is an old resort with a range of cottages, rooms, and campsites, but the real attraction is the mineral hot springs that feed the baths. While the guidebooks and their own website describe The Baths as overlander friendly, we didn't find them friendly at all. There are a lot of riders of a certain brand in South Africa, and our reception from them has been unfailingly chilly.



We pitched our tent, cooked up a dinner of sausages and apples with oranges from the local grove for dessert. Then we grabbed our suits and headed for the baths. We soaked in the pools for a couple of hours as the sun set and the moon rose before heading back to our tent for the night. As we zipped ourselves into the tent, we were both a bit nervous since this was our first night of camping in Africa.

199 miles in about 7 hours.

After a surprisingly good night of sleep (we weren't visited by lions or elephants or even giant spiders in the night) we woke with the sun and started breaking down camp. After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, more oranges, and coffee, we set about preparing to get on the road. The bikes needed nothing – even the tire pressure has been holding. We enjoyed the most powerful shower this side of a firehose before suiting up and jumping on the bikes. I hit my starter button and the crank didn't even spin a half a revolution before coming to an abrupt stop. Since we had a similar incident with Re's bike in NC, I had an idea what the issue was. I tried to give the kick starter a quick jab, and it wouldn't move. While I popped the spark plug access panel off and removed the plug wire, Re retrieved the factory “toolkit” from under the side cover. I pulled the spark plug, kicked the bike over, cleared the fuel from the cylinder, popped the plug back in, and buttoned everything back up while Re stowed the toolkit. The entire procedure took less than 5 minutes, and my bike fired right up.



We pulled out of the campground and went back toward the N7 with my bike showing no ill effects of my little hydraulicing problem. Note to self: install petcocks sometime. The ride up the N7 was relatively boring, just a long straight highway and a headwind to boot. We've been off the bikes too long and need to get back into riding shape, as both of our butts were barking by late afternoon.



We did however, see some animals along the way: ostriches, weaver birds, and our favorite was the pygmy giant land tortoise (at least that's what I told Re it was. I don't think she believed me.). This little guy was cruising across the highway, and I have a soft spot for things that are even slower than us, so we banged a u-turn and went back to rescue him. Apparently African tortoises are just like their American cousins, as this one peed all over Re's glove while she held him.



The day's ride was warm, but that changed in mid-afternoon when we crested one hill and it got just plain hot. The landscape suddenly changed from orchards to rocky, dry desert. The heat made the ride seem even longer and our butts even sorer, and we decided to stop riding early today. Our original goal was Springbok, but Kamieskroon was 50 miles sooner. Upon exiting the highway we spied the Kamieskroon Hotel, which the guidebook said had camping as well. Since we were the only campers there, we made our choice of the sites and set up camp. We needed fuel and food (and ) so we rode into town in search of sustenance. Unfortunately, everything was closed, which seemed odd for a Saturday at 5:30pm. The only store with food that was open was adjacent to the gas station, and Re made the best of the limited selection and we headed back to camp, where she fixed a sort-of corned beef hash with sweet potatoes, crisps, and more oranges from Citrusdal. The sun sets early here, it's dark by around 7pm. We did enjoy the early sunset tonight since the sky was completely clear and there is no light pollution in Kamieskroon. We pulled out the binoculars, laid on the patio on our backs, and looked at more stars than we've ever seen anywhere in North America.

221 miles in about 8 hours. Once we got my bike running, they ran fine.

The day did not start well when I realized that the sun was already well up in the sky by the time I finally awoke. I looked at Re's iPod Touch that we were using as an alarm clock and realized that I had created a new alarm time but had failed to activate it. Instead of getting up at 5:30, it was now 6:30. Grr. Normally we snooze for 30 minutes or so, but now we had to bounce. I wanted to get on the road early today since we had a short day yesterday and didn't know how long it would take to cross the border. We made a quick morning of it and got on the road by 8:30. The bikes have me spoiled now, needing no adjustments or fiddling for the past several days – just a shot of chainlube and the usual checks. No repeat of the previous day's fuel problem, either. The one worrying issue is that our new rear tires seem to be wearing quickly. We only have about 1000 miles on them, and they have squared off noticeably and are losing tread depth faster than I would like. Considering we got over 5000 miles on the no-name stock tires, I am disappointed in these Michelins so far. We do have another spare tire each but we will have to start looking for another set of rears before we hit the more remote regions. The fronts, however, are still going strong with over 6500 miles on them!



The ride this morning started out warm and felt like it was going to be a hot one. We are carrying 5L of water each and haven't yet come near to drinking it all in a day, but we are making a concerted effort now to drink more as we ride. We continued north on the N2 and stopped for fuel in Springbok, we filled up the bike's tanks, my fuel jug and Re's “toilet bottle” as we were unsure about fuel availability further north. It is a long way between places out here. We also stopped at the local grocery store to pick up some provisions for the day, Re went in for a loaf of bread, some biltong (dried meat), and some apples. While I sat and waited with the bikes, I enjoyed the curious stares of the local people who were obviously surprised to see me and the bikes in the parking lot of their local grocer. After getting back on the highway for the final 70 kilometers to the border, we hit an even hotter headwind that slowed us to about 40mph and (as we discovered later) killed our fuel mileage. I would estimate that it was nearly 100 degrees or warmer. The scenery continued to change as we rode further north, all vestiges of greenery were gone and the land got rockier. Traffic was also extremely light after Springbok, 20 minutes or more would go by between vehicles overtaking us. The drivers in South Africa have been extremely patient with our slow progress; the majority give a friendly wave as they pass.



We finally made it to the border with Namibia at about 12:30pm and were amazed to see that there were no vehicles waiting to cross. Maybe it was because it was Sunday, or maybe its that Namibia is a nation of only about 2 million people and most can't afford motorized transportation. Whatever the reason, we breezed through the South Africa side and found them to be very prompt and professional. The border area is secure and surrounded by a tall fence and guards, so no border “helpers” to deal with. We hopped off the bikes, went through immigration, then to customs to have our Carnet stamped and finally to a check of our passports by the police. Then back on the bikes to the final inspection station where we met Constable August, a most funny and friendly fellow. We suspect he was just bored but we ended up chatting with him for 15 minutes or so until another vehicle showed up and he waved us on.



The Namibian side was different. Much less professional, people were just kind of hanging around and watching the world go by. The immigration official was the cheerless sort but processed our paperwork efficiently and sent us on to the road tax department next door. Here we met two women who appeared more interested in chatting with each other than helping us fill out the odd paperwork required. We struggled through and eventually paid our 140 NAD each (the guide we have says it was 70 NAD each in 2010?) and received our receipt. (We later learned that we were indeed overcharged. 140 NAD is the rate for cars, 90 NAD is the correct rate for bikes) Then onto the Customs department where our Carnet was processed, but no one even ever looked at our bikes or verified anything. Strange. But we were through and headed back to the bikes to start turning wheels in the fourth country of our trip so far. The whole process took about an hour, and we did get very warm while crossing the border and were feeling very sweaty by this point. Our Darien Lights do a remarkable job of keeping us comfortable in fairly hot weather, but only when we are moving. Standing around at counters waiting for stamps is another matter. It felt good to get some airflow as we pulled away. We soon spotted a fuel station and dove in for some more 95 unleaded. We were happy to see that fuel is a little cheaper in Namibia than in South Africa. The Namibian dollar is pegged to the South African Rand and can be used interchangeably, which is handy as we still had about 1500 ZAR on us. After fueling up the bikes, we sat in the shade and had a lunch of the items Re bought earlier and a couple of cold! Coke Zeros.



Back on the road, we headed north on the B1 for Grunau, our destination for the night. If we thought there was nothing in northern South Africa, we were wrong. There is really nothing in southern Namibia, no towns, no houses, just fences stretching on for miles and miles. The afternoon wore on, still hot and still nothing to see. This is the part of riding I don't like, just grinding out miles, and I did find myself wishing for a faster bike (gasp!). We were also picking up elevation the whole way and found ourselves around 4000 feet above sea level at times. The long hills and still strong headwind slowed our progress and it took nearly 3 hours to go the final 100 miles to Grunau. When you only have 7 hp, you learn to dread headwinds and long climbs.

Once we reached Grunau we were underwhelmed by it, to say the least. We didn't expect much, but it is a name on the map so we expected more than just a few houses, one hotel and a gas station. Re checked the hotel and found that a room would be nearly 70 USD for not much. We rode on a little further, and I spied a sign that said “Accommodasie” on the side of the gas station so we pulled in to check it out. They had bungalows next to the gas station for about $65 USD but they did also have camping for about $14. Camping it was as it was nearing 5:30, and the next town was over 150 kilometers further. The camping was actually very nice, and we were the only campers that night. Each campsite had two concrete walls to screen it from the wind and a private (lockable) bathroom. Built into the walls are a braai pit (bbq grill), an outdoor sink, and some counter space. The compound was also surrounded by a 7 foot tall electric fence?!? We felt very secure and a little weird once they closed the gate for the night, why do they need such a fence. We ate dinner in the restaurant at the gas station and drank an entire 2L Coke Zero between us. We also enjoyed their wifi until they shut it off when they closed the store at 8pm. We were very sad to see the cooler locked and the sign that said there were no sales on Sunday. We must have looked sad enough at this as the cashier later sold us a couple of Windhoeks (since we were staying at their campground it was OK, she said). One of the best parts of the trip so far was later that evening when Re and I sat on the counter, drinking our cold Windhoeks, talking about the day's ride, while the moon rose and the electric fence hummed faintly in the background. The air was rapidly cooling, but the concrete of the counter was still warm from the day and we talked and laughed into the night.

229 miles in about 9 hours, with a border crossing. The bikes are starting to wheeze a bit from the altitude, and the headwind was hard on the mileage.

After a decent night sleep, we woke up to a chilly and windy morning. We had breakfast at the gas station and made use of their wifi to Skype home. We had another long ride ahead of us today, and neither of us was really looking forward to it. Our original plan for this trip was to average around 100 miles per day, but so far we're averaging many more. The distances between cities in Namibia is so great that we grinding out miles is our only option. Today's ride was made even more difficult by another strong headwind. Instead of cruising 45mph at three quarters throttle, we rode most of the day at WOT and could barely maintain 40mph. As we rode, the elevation rose to over 4500ft, and I adjusted the A/F screw one quarter turn leaner to try to minimize the power loss. As the day got hotter and our butts got sorer, the enthusiasm dwindled.

After refueling in Keetmanshoop, we decided to have a hot lunch and a cold drink in the air-conditioned comfort of the Wimpy's. Feeling a little cooler and happier, we continued our journey north. As my new 5 liter fuel jug had no gasket in the cap, I've only been putting 4 liters in it to minimize leakage, and for the same reason, we've only been putting 3 liters in Re's toilet jug. Up until now, this has been enough fuel to get us to the next stop. Today was almost the exception. The fuel stop between Keetmanshoop and Mariental is in a town called Asab, or at least it was supposed to be there. As we rolled into Asab and pulled into the gas station, I noticed that all the fuel pumps had their outside covers removed and that there were local people camping, both inside and outside of the gas station building. Knowing the outcome, I still pulled up to the pump and cringed when a man ran up and shouted, “No petrol.” Well, poop. With no other choice, we turned back onto the highway and continued north at an even slower pace. Today's ride became an economy run. We lowered our speed to 35mph and my attention was now divided between our dwindling fuel lights and my GPS as it counted down the miles to Mariental. Maybe it was because my attention was focused on matters of fuel economy that the little black dots hovering over the highway ahead didn't register until the last moment. I reached up just in time to close my face shield before riding through a swarm of bees. They sounded like hail on my helmet and ricocheted off my jacket. Re later told me she just ducked and closed her eyes. It did have the effect, however, of getting my eyes off the gauges and back onto the road.



The scenery has continued to green ever so slightly the farther north we get. The race between the fuel lights and the GPS countdown was over when I spied the gas station at the southern edge of Mariental, and we pulled in to the pumps for some much needed fuel. My fuel light had been blinking for almost 7 miles, and Re still had a little more than I did, but it was close. Partly because of this experience and partly because Re is tired of me calling her bike “Toilet,” she went into the spare parts store at the gas station while I supervised the filling of the bikes. I paid the man and we rode away with our big new jerrycan. We made have found the last room in Mariental that night, as there was some sort of fishing tournament going on in the area. I'm not sure what bait you use for sandfish, because I sure didn't see any bodies of water in the area.

The two highlights of the evening, however, occurred at the local grocery store. The first was Rebekah riding in through the exit of the parking lot right past the universal “do not enter” sign, which was met by a whoop of the siren from the police car parked about 20 yards from the scene of her crime. Fortunately, we must have looked like more trouble than we'd be worth, as the policeman just waved. For good measure, I pretended to give Re a lecture, complete with oversized hand gestures. The second was when we were leaving the store and one of the usual group of men who gather around wherever we park struck up a conversation. The gist of the conversation was that when I was bored with my motorcycle, that maybe I would come to him and offer him a very good price for my bike. The people in Namibia know quality when they see it! We chatted with him for maybe 5 minutes, and everyone had a nice laugh.

264 miles, 8 hours riding. Bikes still not enjoying the altitude.

After camping for 3 nights in dry and dusty conditions, it was nice to sleep inside, especially with air-conditioning and a comfy, comfy bed. The bikes needed no adjustments, but I did add about 2 ounces of oil to my bike. After yesterday's economy run, I made the decision to throttle back a little today, both for the sake of our fuel economy and for a less frantic ride. This decision was made easier by the fact that today's ride would only be about 200 miles, and for the first time in several days, there was no headwind. The temperature was more moderate today and we were both in better spirits. The landscape continued to become more green, and there were more trees.



Shortly before lunch, we ran into a police checkpoint. They were stopping all traffic, and when it was our turn, they asked to see our drivers' licenses. The young man in fatigues, who appeared to be in charge, handed our licenses to another man with a clip board, and then he suddenly noticed Re's new 10 liter jerrycan. While I rummaged in my top case to find our international driving permits (IDPs), the man in fatigues told Rebekah that the jerrycan blocking her headlight was unacceptable. I handed him our IDPs, which he again passed to the man with the clip board, and then he proceeded to reposition Re's jerrycan in a horizontal, non-headlight blocking position. As Re's jerrycan also doesn't have a gasket in the cap, it's a good thing it was empty at the time. Once the jerrycan business was taken care of, the smiles broke out. While the man with the clip board just stared at our licenses and IDPs looking lost, the man in fatigues spied my seat pad and decided to wear it as a chest protector. More smiles and laughter ensued until our licenses were returned and we were free to go. Re got them to pose for a photo, and then we were on our way. We both have enjoyed how friendly and quick to smile the people in Africa have been.

We made it to the outskirts of Windhoek by around 2pm and quickly made a wrong turn. Within about a half mile I realized our mistake and made a right turn (across traffic. Remember, we are now driving on the left) into the Windhoek Country Club to turn around. I made it safely through, but was shocked when I looked back and saw that Re was stopped, partially in a lane of oncoming traffic. I yelled to see what was wrong, and Re said her bike would not move. I hopped off my bike and ran to see what was wrong. Re revved the bike up, but sure enough, it wouldn't move. Another good thing about SYM Symbas is they only weigh around 200 lbs, so I grabbed the rear rack, lifted the back wheel off the ground, and wheel-barrowed Re and her bike out of traffic. Once in a safe place, I checked the front and rear brakes for free play, but they weren't the culprit. When I looked at the rear of Re's bike, I saw that both the upper and lower halves of the chain case were deformed at the rear sprocket. I popped the inspection plug on the chain case to see if the chain had broken, but it was intact. It was then that I realized what happened.



The bolts that I discovered had come loose on my bike in Ohio, had now done the same on Rebekah's.



So out came the tools, and we got to work. We removed the chain case halves to see that one bolt had backed out so far that it caught on a swingarm tab that the chain case mounts to, stopping the wheel from turning. Over the next hour, we removed the rear wheel, sprocket and hub, found that all three of the remaining bolts were loose, and put it all back together, this time with loctite. The most time consuming part of the repair job was refitting the mangled chain case.



The tab that the bolt lodged against was twisted, and the chain case halves were bent and torn. I would again like to give credit to Nathanthepostman for the inspiration to carry the ball-peen hammer that we used to massage the covers close to shape. Fortuitously, another underboner stopped to see if we needed help and told us the location of the nearby nut and bolt store. Once Re was mobile, it was our first stop. They had a suitable bolt for 1.20NAD (about 15 cents). We made our way into Windhoek, found a guesthouse and opted for a room over camping once we heard the thunder and noticed the black sky overhead. We had heard thunder in Mariental the night before, and our hostess said the little rains might be early this year. Apparently, she was right. Yay.

200 miles in 7 hours, including 1.5 hours repairing the “final drive” failure. I'm just sayin', a final drive failure on a SYM Symba can be fixed in about an hour with hand tools for 15 cents.

The first order of business today was to install our recently acquired bolt in Re's rear end (er, her bike's rear end). We set up our tools and tarp in the parking lot of the guesthouse and got to work. We've done this enough times lately that we have the routine down. Off with the rear brakes, off with the rear wheel, and off with the hub.



In went the new bolt, complete with loctite, and we put it all back together. Out of an abundance of caution, I decided to loctite my bolts as well. Imagine my surprise when I removed my rear hub and found that the bolts I had tightened less than two thousand miles ago were slightly loose. Sigh. We loctited everything and reassembled it, paying particular attention to staking the tabbed washers that (should) hold the bolt heads. I don't understand why this system isn't working. I've used similar tabbed washers on other bikes before, and they have never loosened. The material that the SYM washers are made of appears to be too soft a metal, and I believe that this is what is allowing the bolts to loosen. Hopefully, the loctite does the trick and we won't be doing this again any time soon.

We spent most of the rest of the day on a quest for tires. You may recall that we installed new Michelin Gazelle tires on the rear of both our bikes before we left Ohio. These appear to be wearing very rapidly, and although we each have a spare Gazelle, I'm afraid that these won't last until India. Consequently, the search was on. During our roadside repairs of the previous day, a friendly local stopped by on a Yamaha underbone of some sort and mentioned that there was a Yamaha dealer in town. He also mentioned that there was another brand of underbones, named Vuka. We Googled the location of the nearest Vuka dealer and went looking. The big problem we are finding in Windhoek is that nobody uses street addresses, and nobody knows the street address of anything. The Vuka dealer was supposed to be on Nelson Mandela at the BP. We cruised the length of Nelson Mandela twice, never seeing anything Vuka or anything BP. Hmmm. We also had an address for a Honda dealer that appeared to sell cars and bikes so we headed there next. They didn't sell tires, but told us of the Yamaha dealer, but the only directions they could give were that it was next to the cemetery in the Southern Industrial District.

We went back to the guesthouse, fired up the computer, and Googled the cemetery in the Southern Industrial District. This at least gave us a cross street and we were off again. We rode to where we thought the Yamaha dealer might be, but instead found a Kawasaki and Suzuki dealer. We stopped here and found they did have a couple of tires that would fit our bikes. It turns out the Vuka dealer no longer exists and that these tires are the stock replacements for the Vukas. They were no brand I've ever heard of and were nearly 40 USD each. Considering the Michelin Gazelles were 16.99 each, these were some pretty pricey tires. They also felt very plasticky, and I couldn't figure out whether they were a front tire only or were universal. Either way, it wasn't a very impressive tread pattern. I asked the parts kid if he could tell me where the Yamaha dealer was, and he directed us there. We rode over to the Yamaha dealer, where I was informed that Yamaha underbones use 18” wheels, not 17” wheels like the Symba. Discouraged, we headed back to the guesthouse with no tires. We discussed the situation over dinner and decided that the Vuka tires were at least better than nothing, and as we weren't enjoying Windhoek very much, we'd get up the next morning, buy the tires, and head for the coast.

20 miles of riding in tons of traffic.

It rained overnight again and was still sprinkling in the morning, so no bike maintenance today. We were on the road by 8:45 and were at the motorcycle store by 9:00. I went upstairs to the parts department, picked up the tires, and took them to the counter. Not relishing the thought of paying nearly 80 USD for these unlovely rubber donuts, I asked if there was a discount if I bought two. The parts kid looked them up in the computer and said he could sell them for 470NAD (59 USD) for the pair. Sold. I carried them back down to our bikes and strapped yet another tire onto each of our loads. I am afraid our bikes are beginning to resemble the Clampett's truck as they pulled into Beverly (Hills, that is).

At least it had stopped raining as we headed west out of town. The ride was cool this morning and the scenery changed from green scrub and low trees to desert by the end of the ride. Around 1pm, they temperature warmed dramatically and stayed that way until about 40 miles from Swakopmund, when it dropped noticeably. During the ride we stopped for gas in Karibib, where we saw several BMW R1200GSs in the parking lot and pulled up next to them. While I walked the gas can to the pumps, Re met the rider of one of the GSs, who was an Edelweiss tour leader. We ended up chatting with him for 10 minutes or so while his group reassembled and compared notes on our two completely different rides. I had to smile a little when I noted that not only did they have a chase vehicle for the luggage, but that they were also carrying a spare R1200GS in the back. Makes our tool pouch look kinda chintzy by comparison, doesn't it?

Back on the road, we did see a hornbill and some sort of humongous eagle, but no other wildlife today. We made it to Swakopmund around 5:00pm and found a place to camp for the night. I would like to mention, we are carrying the 2010 edition of the Lonely Planet Southern Africa guidebook, which is the most recent edition and is supposed to be “fully updated.” Well, it ain't. The prices have been wrong by about half again, and even the maps are wrong. A few years ago, Namibia changed the names of many streets to those of important figures in Namibian independence, but the maps in the Lonely Planet don't reflect these changes. Also, for instance, the book lists a tour of the Hansa Brewery, which has apparently been closed for three years or more, according to the proprietress of our guesthouse. And just about every guesthouse they list as having internet access does not.

235 miles in about 8 hours. Bikes are wheezing a little and did not enjoy the all day headwind.