Apologies that it has taken so long for the final update. Life just happened again as soon as we touched down back home. But it is nice to relive some of it now 6 months later after letting it all sink in. So here we go.

Once into Namibia we didn’t make it far before deciding to call it a day in Ruacana. We stayed at a lodge there, ate 3 lunches each and relaxed. The food quality went up drastically once in Namibia. We had debated making the trek across to Epupa Falls, but rest and food won the day and we stayed another night.


Himba women dancing.

Back on the road we took the backroads to Opuwo through the Himba region which was a pure joy. We bombed along winding dirt roads with little to no traffic passing Himba villages and herders out with their cows. The men wore loinclothes with a stick in hand to tend to their herd while the women were adorned with mud braids in their hair, skirts made from fur and and ornate metal designs and ochre butter pasted on their naked torsos. We stopped in at Ovahimba Living Museum which is a bit of a tourist thing but given we were only passing through, it was really interesting.

We made it to Opuwo just before dark and got fuel while topless Himba strolled past on cell phones and withdrew money from the ATM. It was a real convergence of the ancient and the modern. We wished we could have stopped for a few days in Opuwo and just watched the world go by and explored the region we had just ridden through a bit more.

From there we headed down to Etosha National park. Because motorcycles aren’t allowed in the park, we camped at Etosha Safari Lodge just outside. After the roadside camping and campstove pasta, red sauce and sardines routine for the last 10 weeks, the living was high class in Namibia. We enjoyed the pool, rode up to the fancy hotel for a sunset aperitif and listened to some live music at the bar at the campsite. We also met Colin Gruen, an American who rented a Honda Africa Twin in Cape Town and had spent the last 6 weeks touring Southern Africa. It was awesome to connect with another rider and trade some stories. There was definitely not a lot of this type of interaction previously on the trip.

We took a wildlife cruise for the day which was awesome. We saw a black rhino, lions, elephants, giraffe, zebra, wildebeest. It was a worthwhile venture although a car and the liberty to explore at your own pace would be great. Having a guide though definitely got us to the right spots for a few animals.


A black rhino in Etosha National Park.



We managed to tick off a bunch of tourist hotspots the next day but arrived too late for Twyfelfontein so ended up wild camping. It was spectacular, riding off into the plains and pitching camp out of the wind. We tried to keep the fire burning throughout the night to keep the wildlife away, although we also heard that it can attract elephants because they want to stomp it out. Not sure what to believe.


Where would you camp?



We set off from Twyfelfontein the next morning cross-country on a road that appeared on the paper maps we had. It almost proved a mistake as the road gave way to soft sand that threatened to overheat the bikes and drain all our gas. It was only about 40kms as the crow flies, but it took us til mid afternoon to make it into Brandberg, especially when Richard’s bike wouldn’t start after stopping for a break. We managed to jump start the bike, and cut and left the wires connected to each bike so we didn’t have to take the bags and seat off each time we stopped seeing as it was apparently a persistent problem. We figured it might be just the battery needing to be replaced so kept moving.


Not an ideal place to break down.

Brandberg was spectacular. The colors in Namibia in general are rich shift throughout the day as the light changes before the landscape catches fire at sunset. Elephants wandering through camp in the dusky light was the icing on the cake.

The next morning we took the scenic route towards the coast through a truly moonlike landscape that was absolutely breathtaking. Richard’s bike started fine with the jumper leads so we opted against the direct route to Swakopmund where the first modern dirtbike shop and assistance awaited. It was a worthwhile risk to take in the end because we made it and because of how incredibly beautiful the ride was. Dropping down to the coast we could smell the ocean and feel the temperature drop 50kms out and when we finally made it it was overcast and cold, rugged and salty- a completely other world.

In Swakopmund we found the Yamaha store which was happy to help us out, but that didn’t stop them making cracks to us about mechanical issues with the KTM. It was all in good fun. They let us work on the bikes in their shop and gave their expertise when needed, and it was needed. It turned out the battery in Richard’s bike was fine, but it wasn’t charging. Following the system back, it turned out to be the stator which has been damaged by an errant piece of metal from a bearing from when one of the 2 rocker arms exploded. It was a rude shock, but also lucky that the shard hadn’t found its way into the cylinder or elsewhere and done more damage. For reasons unbeknownst to us even, we had actually carried a heavy stator with us the entire trip and the only thing we were missing was a gasket which the guys were able to make themselves. By the end of the day we were back up and running. I took some new brake pads because I could and both bikes an oil change.

Like most days in the shoppe, it took longer than we had hoped so our plans to explore the sand dunes were cut short but we got a little taste on one of the front dunes, running our tires too hard and sinking and then I ran out of gas at dusk. We looked like total rookies, which we were, but it made for a good laugh.


Riding in the dunes is way cooler even than we imagined it would be.

The next day we waited for the coastal cloud to burn off in the morning, sampling a wholesome breakfast in one of the many great cafes in Swakopmund before getting a permit to ride in the dunes and heading out in the afternoon when the contrast is better. In the middle of the day it’s easy to not see a crest and ride off the edge of a dune. This time we dropped the pressure in our tires and brought plenty of fuel and got the hang of it pretty quick. Having never ridden in dunes, it was something that I had always wanted to do and the experience was ethereal. As the sun waned and the shadows grew longer, the freedom to roam and explore is hard to match elsewhere. The colors and the contours of the sand are so pleasing to the eye and the playful nature of the terrain is so fun to ride, banking off broad natural berms and summiting gigantic dunes only to reveal more undulations all the way to the horizon.

We could have spent more time in Swakopmund exploring the dunes and generally hanging out as it was so friendly. We were invited to spend and afternoon shark fishing with a local sport fisherman which was great fun but yielded no bites. But s and exchanging banter about our trip and Andrew’s fishing conquests was a delight.

Cape Town was calling so we departed Swakopmund for Sossusvlei via Solitaire. We never made it to Sossusvlei due to an invite to stay at lodge by a landcruiser piloted by 3 Italian girls on vacation but you have to open to the whims of the road right? We did run into Colin at the fuel station outside Sossusvlei the next mornging and decided to team up for a few days as he was also headed to Cape Town. It was great to ride with some fresh energy, and he was glad for the company after 2 months solo. The roads were terribly corrugated but we made it to Aus, arriving too late to visit the ghost town outside Luderitz. We did enjoy a steak at one of the eco lodges and camped for cheap nearby. Namibia is exceptionally well set up for tourism. Many of the lodges are quite upscale without being too exclusive and after having not eaten particularly well outside of bigger towns for most of the trip, the prospect of cooking in camp or splurging each night on a salad bar, steak and dessert was not a difficult decision.


Colin- a welcome addition to our posse.

We took in the Fish River Canyon the next morning before snaking our way through some stunning canyons and making it to the Ais-Ais Hotsprings the following night. The riding in Namibia is wild without being frontier, and at the end of each day if you so choose there are usually some other travellers to share a with and a restaurant to feast in. This day though the hot springs were a special bonus.


The Orange River

Our final day in Namibia after nearly 2 weeks of relaxing the pace and exploring and enjoying some of the attractions was one of the most spectacular. The dry, jagged canyons opened up to a verdant river valley, where the road lazily flowed along the banks of the Orange River. We crossed into South Africa on a 2 vehicle ferry at Sendelingsdrif, sad to leave Namibia behind. Checking into South Africa was easy enough although in hindsight we should have insisted on a TIP or some import document as it would have helped with shipping the bikes back home later.


The Richtersveld

Once cleared, we set off through the Richtersveld to complete perhaps the most scenic day of riding any of us had ever done. The Richtersveld proper is forbidden to motorcycles, but we traced the edge of it, skipping through Eksteenfontein as the shadows grew longer and the mountains caught fire in the evening glow. We never passed another vehicle despite the numerous hamlets tucked away off the main thoroughfare. We wild camped for the last time as the nostalgia began to grow with the impending conclusion to our adventure.

After a flat tire the next morning, Colin bid us farewell. We wanted to get to Cape Town to go diving with sharks while Richard and I wanted to detour through the Cederberg. We didn’t make it as far as we had hoped and camped by the reservoir in Clanwilliam for the night. With one final day to ride, Richard and I bought and drank a few extra s, but the enormity of what we had done was difficult to grasp and the excitement to be finishing was difficult to find. It had been such an incredible experience and such a rare state of being--worrying only about what was in front of us, living with only that which we could carry on our bikes, and never knowing where we would rest our weary carasses each day. It was a form of zen and while we were excited for what came next when we returned home, it was a state that we could have stayed in a while longer. It seemed unfortunate that it would be coming to a close. The s helped to lubricate the emotions and the many experiences and encounters from the last 3 months that we hadn’t been able to properly process began to distill. So much had happened every single day, and the pace that we had ridden at seldom allowed those experiences to fully percolate. It was something that we wrestled with during the trip and a lot that night. Should we have taken more time?

We had given ourselves 3 months to ride from Belfast to Ireland, with no idea if that was even possible. The few that we had spoken to that had done the trip thought it was unlikely. But we had 3 months away from work, Richard’s wife was pregnant with their first child and we wanted to get to Cape Town. We had ridden by so much without stopping, but it had also forced us to stop in many places that we otherwise wouldn’t have and to find solutions to problems in ways that perhaps we might not have in other circumstances. We didn’t realize until we began, but the trip became first and foremost about riding our bikes everyday and the rest happened along the way. It took a while to realize that, but there was a distinct pleasure in that. Pleasure in the physical challenge of riding 24,000kms in a single line through an entire continent. Then there was the pure enjoyment of spending time with a really good friend, of suffering the heat and the bugs and the breakdowns along with the elation of fixing a broken rocker arm to the morning light as we raced our own shadows across the desert and sitting by countless small fires with each other and with our gracious hosts along the way. But having never done a trip in such style before, we had to wonder if had we even done it right? Was there something else that we were meant to have done or experienced?

These were the musings of two friends that were running out of the types of problems that a trip such as this throws up. We never found solutions or explanations in the mickey of whiskey that we also drank but we must have done something right to make it this far?




The Cederberg

The Cederberg the next day begged the question of whether we were still up for adventure or instead ready to throw in the towel and take the highway to Cape Town. Rain and dense mist as we climbed into the mountains that reduced visibility to less than 50 meters and made the entire idea of taking the scenic route seem preposterous. Our persistence, however, was rewarded with a dramatic color palette as the blooming spring wild flowers accented the dark, foreboding skies. We popped out in Ceres to dry out in a coffee shop before climbing up through Bain’s Kloof Pass, an improbable road that snaked through a steep canyon awash with tumbling waterfalls and a raging torrent below due to the rain that saturated the earth and ourselves. From there it we dropped down to Cape Town picking up the freeway as my front sprocket began to skip as the teeth finally gave out. It got us up to Table Mountain, our preordained finish point. Exchanging embraces and messaging loved ones back home that we had arrived, it all felt a bit surreal. Did it really have to be over?


Mission complete. Table Mountain overlooking Cape Town.

During the trip we had connected with Woodstock Moto Co, a community garage run by Devin Paisley, who were having a party that evening that soon doubled as our welcome party also. We rode down to the garage and cracked a and met the great motorcycle community in Cape Town. We never made it out of our riding gear til late in the evening, enjoying numerous libations while standing around chatting travel, motorcycles and life. It was a great way to come back to earth and begin to re-integrate.

The following days involved sleeping off a hangover, catching up in our journals, riding Chapman’s peak--a stunning strip of coastal road-- down to the Cape of Good Hope. From the old lighthouse on the point the Atlantic Ocean formed a moat around our desire to keep riding. We had run out of continent.


We ran out of continent. Cape of Good Hope.

Our final day Devin took us on an awesome Cape Town tour, linking dirt tracks and twisting tarmac through avant garde districts, slums and stunning view points. Devin is passionate about motorcycles, his home town of Cape Town and community. It was a real icing on the cake to have fallen in with he and his crew. Cape Town is a real gem that is largely underrated. With the natural beauty of the coast and the mountains immediately surrounding it as well as being the gateway to some epic riding, there is no question that we will be back. We left Devin at the Cecil Rhodes statue overlooking the University of Cape Town to ride to the warehouse where we would leave our bikes for shipping, change and take an Uber to the airport. And then it was over.

In the months that have passed since returning home to daily life, the trip has continued to distill and settle in our minds into the legend that it will become for us. After first talking about it while living together in Chamonix, France 12 years ago, the belief that it has come and gone already is still hard to process. Having finally made it happen, the trip has highlighted the value in having long term goals to look forward to. In an era of instant gratification, it is rare to have a dream that captures the imagination that is largely intangible, but ultimately possible. In the wake of fulfilling that dream, the absence of a goal that that looms large and perhaps services nothing more than wanderlust has become apparent, but there will be time for dreaming up another.
As we came back to earth there was much discussion around trying to acutely comprehend what we had done exactly. Morocco felt like an eternity ago. The wet season in Cameroon that spanked us so robustly did not connect to the chaos of the DRC which did not attach itself to the vastness of Namibia. So much had happened and everyday was so intense and full of experiences that it was difficult to compile it into a single accomplishment. It felt like a year ago that we set off from Belfast, and the blink of an eye since we started planning the trip 9 months before. In reality our sense of exhalation just didn’t seem to add up to the sum of all the parts. The only sentiment that I could come upon that captured the magnitude of what we had just done was that we were now part of an exclusive club of folks that had ridden motorcycles overland, navigating the requisite challenges and perils along the way and absorbing all the vibrancy of life on the road. Many of these characters and tales were brought to life on this very forum, personal travel blogs and social media feeds. Before we began the trip, we thought those folks, were icons and the most inspiring characters that we could imagine. And now we had followed in their footsteps to fulfil our vision of an overland motorcycle journey. Does that make us better than anyone else? Not at all. But when you complete the most awesome thing you can imagine undertaking, it is a gratifying feeling.

So thank you HUBB for all the inspiration, information, encouragement and advice. And here’s to the next dream.



Follow our trip at https://nomadikandco.com and on Instagram at @nomadikandco
Big thanks to Revit Sport, Enduristan, Rally Raid and Scott Oiler for their support.

Fantastic conclusion to a great adventure! Thanks for sharing; I've just arrived in Morocco to follow the same basic route. Maybe I should keep everyone on the HUDD updated too. Thanks again!

Great RR, beautiful pics! Thx for posting your report!
And:

__________________
Only when we pause to wonder
do we go beyond the limits of our little lives.
(Rod McKuen)