THE HILL IS CALLED PYPKLOOF. IT’S A 12KM VALLEY OF SAND...
...soft, powdery sand that wouldn’t look out of place under a beach umbrella on Clifton 4. The ‘road’ down the valley is home to the softest sand: stick to the 4x4 tracks, and it’s clear you’ll soon be bogged down.
So what’s the alternative? Off-piste! One by one, the cyclists set off down the slope, each one choosing his or her own line to the left or the right of the road. The sand here has a harder crust, and it’s possible to float through – if you’re going fast enough. But to go fast, you also need to negotiate a legion of drainage channels, bumps and gullies.
I’ve never done this kind of riding. The off-piste analogy is a good one, because it does indeed feel more like snow skiing. My back wheel drifts, my front wheel slides – often, both wheels leave the ground; but somehow, I remain upright behind the bars.
And then, at the bottom of Pypkloof, the Orange River suddenly appears: a wobbly mirage of greenery in the desert. I have to blink a few times to make sure it’s real.
We drop our bikes on the bank and jump in wearing our riding gear, most of us already plotting who we’ll need to bribe to give us a lift back to the top of the hill…
WILDERNESS BLISS
II’m riding in the Richtersveld with the World Wildlife Fund ( WWF), on their inaugural Desert Challenge – a special fund-raising event that also features some hiking, abseiling and paddling.
Most people don’t know where the Richtersveld is, so here’s a quick geography lesson: draw a line north from Cape Town until you reach the Orange River. The Ai-Ais/ Richtersveld Transfrontier Park straddles the river, half in South Africa and
half in Namibia.
Viewed from the air (or on Google Earth), the landscape is a mass of jagged, purpleblack mountains with plains of orange and yellow sand in between. Two of the most prominent mountain ranges are the Vandersterrberg and the Tswaiesberg. The former is a wall of rock straight out of Lord of the Rings, complete with a summit called Mount Terror (1 224m). The latter is a succession of lower peaks, each as sharp as a knife edge, with crystal ridges and multicoloured bands of mineral deposits.
On the first day of the Desert Challenge,
There were no vehicles in sight – and much of the time, no road either; just infinite space, and the pleasure of moving through it.
we saddled up and rode into this geological wonderland, cutting through the Vandersterrberg via Helskloof Pass, with views of the Tswaiesberg as we zigzagged down the other side.
It was the aerial view made real: I could
smell the dust, and feel a chilly wind tugging at my clothes; and I could see so far into the distance, it almost made me dizzy.
Besides its geology, the Richtersveld is also known for its amazing endemic plant life. We saw a hillside full of Pearson’s aloes, which are found only in that section of the park and nowhere else on earth, and we rode past an enormous quiver tree easily two storeys tall. And those were just the obvious specimens: stop anywhere and look down, and you’ll see tiny succulents straining from the sand, each one a little miracle, seemingly able to survive on air alone.
It was the aerial view made real: I could see so far into the distance, it almost made me dizzy.
PURE FREEDOM
WWith memories of sweating up Helskloof and slaloming down Pypkloof still fresh in our minds, we set off early from our campsite at De Hoop on the banks of the Orange River for our final
day of riding in the Richtersveld.
From De Hoop, the landscape opened up into a wide gravel wash, and the mountains seemed to drift further and further away. Eventually we were all on the plain; again, each cyclist decided his or her own route across the sun-hardened sand. There were no vehicles in sight – and much of the time, no road either; just infinite space, and the pleasure of moving through it.
After tea from a Jetboil stove at the top of Akkedis Pass, it was downhill almost all the way back to Sendelingsdrift – a bittersweet downhill, because none of us wanted the experience to end.
YOU CAN ESCAPE IN THE RICHTERSVELD…
I… in the true sense of the word. Leopards roam the high mountains, but it’s unlikely you’ll see one. You won’t see many people either – or any signs of people. The landscape is devoid of telephone poles, electricity pylons, fences, buildings. Cellphone signal is non-existent.
It’s a place to appreciate the feeling of running your hand over a porcelain-smooth rock, burnished over millennia by the wind. Or to sit in your camping chair and watch a Verreaux’s eagle slowly circling, while you wait for the day to cool and the mountains to turn purple.
It’s a place where time, in a geological sense, is laid bare – stand in a cathedral of rock where an ancient waterfall once flowed, and a singe human life suddenly seems like a speck of dust in the wind.
It’s also a fine place to ride your mountain bike, especially if you like your cycling served with a dash of adventure…