MANNE  !!!!!  MANNE   !!!!   MANNNNNE   !!!!          

 

 

Every decade or so, the “Manne” complete an off-road route of absolutely no historical value, BUT of epic proportions. These occasions are reminisced over again and again, like soldiers reliving a battle of note. Bar-owners love these occasions as they tend to be long, drawn-out affairs that invariably end up in both argumentative and reconciliatory phases. Equal measures of alcohol for each session – like a good Martini. I mean, who will ever forget the “Dassie”? You were there or you were not there. Simple as that!

 

Pink Panther booked this particular weekend as a prelude to the 2010 season. The year planner was not yet approved, you see. The trip started inconspicuously. Gladiator and BlouBul arrived at the “cottage” on the Friday afternoon. I have no idea what kept them occupied until the rest of the convoy arrived on Saturday morning, but then again, it was none of my business. Rooibaard in his Terrano II was the first arrival on Saturday morning having had the advantage of travelling from Velddrift instead of (greater) Cape Town.

 

The other vehicles were due to leave the N7 Engen garage & Wimpy at 08:00. Commander advised against this as the heat would “fry” us at Jakkalskloof (having the advantage of prior knowledge – the Jeep Club did the trail the previous weekend). He suggested that we hit the road by seven at the latest. My argument was that we were going to fry no matter what time we did the trail, so why suffer a double whammy?

 

Like a Tsunami or an earthquake (or a late night at Bobby’s without the missus) the signs of impending doom were there right from the start. Gladiator noticed that the camp site earmarked for 4x4 Cape did NOT match the description Mal Charlie and I had given him at the trip briefing the previous Thursday at Bobby’s Pub. Claire-with-the-red-hair developed a sore throat during Friday night and I had to make a detour to the Durban Road M-Kem en-route to the N7 Engen garage (thus depriving me of a luke-warm, greasy, cholesterol enhanced breakfast at the Wimpy) and at about 07:30 Romeo phoned to say that he would be late as he had to dismantle the Cherokee’s starter motor (turned out that it was in dire need of a set of new brushes). Mal Charlie was on time. How many more tangible signs did the unbelievers need?

 

We left the rendezvous point in the sequence of arrival, hoping to leapfrog our way to Eendekuil. Isak and Madelein in their Defender (he has not yet been allocated a “radio” name, but after this weekend “Joepies” may be appropriate) led the convoy, followed by the KiteFlyers (last trip for the old faithful Ford, shame), Teddy (and family in their brand new Fortuner), Gunner and, of course, Mal Charlie in their Discos. All oil burners! Radio checks done, convoy speed set at 100 km/h, following distance declared at, say 200m and all went well.

That was until the convoy reached the Malmesbury Monster (“The Hill”). Having done the hill often in the past and realising the humiliating effect it has on diesel driven vehicles towards the crest of the hill Gunner could not contain himself………..

 

 

He broke convoy and rushed past everyone on the short down hill slope before accelerating up the other side, leaving everyone miles behind. Minor grumble from Kiteflyer about “allowing” Gunner to overtake him, yes, he is a Malmesbury Monster veteran as well and he could have pulled in front of Gunner if he wished to, but it was really Mal Charlie that screamed his head off in protest, realising that he had missed a golden opportunity to get in front of the convoy (and then do his normal thing, of course).

 

Gunner did the decent thing by allowing the convoy to pass him again so that the “order” may be restored. Mal Charlie was the first to pass, followed by Kiteflyer, but the new-comers decided that staying behind Gunner may be the safest option. Did we leap-frog at Moorreesburg? Get real! How well do you know Mal Charlie? For the annals of the club I have to record that when the Mal Charlie-led-convoy approached the (new?) circle on the N7 at the entrance to Piketberg he frantically called Gunner enquiring which way he should go? Left, straight or turn right? Did we not agree to have a body break at the Total Garage with an option to buy wine at the boutique shop? And the man has a GPS! The Kiteflyers choked laughing, the newbies did not understand the context of the question and Gunner merely responded “to the right Mal Charlie”. How boring would a convoy be without Mal Charlie for entertainment?

 

 

Vehicles parked at the Total Garage, Piketberg.

 

Suitably relieved and well stocked-up the convoy set-off for Eendekuil. It was hot, hot, hot and the swing doors at the Eendekuil Hotel beckoned, but we were strong and headed on for Jakkalskloof (in our air-conditioned vehicles).

 

On arrival at the reception there was a degree of confusion. Gunner headed for the camp site (having had the advantage of a previous visit with CLRC) and being of the opinion that Pink Panther was quite capable of handing over the payment to Marinda all by herself. However, Gladiator called him back and explained that the “camp site for 4x4 Cape” was in the area adjacent to the six-sleeper cottage. This totally threw Gunner. This was not at all what he had in mind. Upon inspection of one of the wooden cabins it turned out to be a bad replica of an RDP house. One room with four beds! Smaller than the RDP lounge, but larger than the second bedroom, if you know what I mean. Rooibaard had already set up camp between the (2^nd) pool and the cottage and wasn’t going to budge from there. The remainder of the camp sites were without shade, decorated in a carpet of thorns and broken glass with the odd touch of tetanus-dipped, rusty objects. Clearly a disused farm refuse dump site. Gunner headed for the shady trees, flush toilets, hot showers and covered lapa, the memory of which was firmly engraved in his mind. Others followed. See pictures below. Stunning, hey?

 

 

 

 

The “proper” camp site had several other families already deployed there. They were extremely friendly, especially Annemarie, and invited us to make use of the facilities whenever we wished (which we did in due course). Their contingent of off-roaders was driving the trail at that moment in time. Kiteflyer, Mal Charlie & Gunner proceeded to establish camp while they were waiting for Romeo to arrive (yes, he had stripped, repaired and replaced the starter motor). Gladiator, BlouBul, Candyman and Teddy occupied the wimp facilities. My friend from school days, “Joepies”, took out a table, chairs and enjoyed some refreshments. Them being of the “we-have-arrived” Howling Moon rooftop tent variety of campers.

 

Lasagne & BeNice invited us for flap-jacks, but it was just too hot and the Manne wanted to test the trail. In the meantime our neighbours arrived back from their excursion. They did not look happy!  A Rangie, Defender 90, Hilux and rather well-equipped Colt Rodeo. Romeo finally pitched camp and we were ready to roll. Gunner was shivering in anticipation. Normally a real “Col Saunders” and he only recently regained his confidence in his Disco. The convoy set off promptly at13:00 (a bit late one would think?)

 

 

Off to see the Wild West show Wowowowow!

 

Vroom-vrooMMMM said the four litre V6 Ranger and off we went. The convoy slowly drove past the “Castle” manor house and animal-filled yard and on to the 4x4 trail. Another bad omen, BlouBul, Gladiator and Rooibaard rushed down the wrong path. KiteFlyer tactfully called them back and Gunner pulled over to let them take the lead once more. This time Rooibaard cleverly maintained a low profile by surreptitiously blending into the rear of the driving order of the convoy.

 

 

Everyone was in a jovial mood in-spite of the pressing heat. Temperatures were well into the forties. The dashboard temperature in the Defender Puma showed 61ºC! The heat must have taken its toll on the person who spotted a Waterbok. There were plenty of game to be seen, but Waterbokke are normally found in the Waterberge and at Kruger Park – Not in the Sandveld!

He Blesbokke were quite graceful.

 

 

The first obstacle was a mild downward sloping cross-axle. The second obstacle was a bit of a beasty. The blue Ranger and “Search & Rescue” had no problem. Gunner scooped the (by now familiar routine) plastic back bumper of the Disco full of soil and the right rear fog-light popped out, but otherwise the Disco eased through with grace. The next-lady-for-a-shave was Teddy’s Fortuner. Haaah! We discovered a cross-axle right there in the shallow part of the ditch, did we! ? A bit stuck for all to see, are we? Naah, just pressed the rear shaft lock push-button (moffie knoppie, some would say) and the Fortuner drove through with ease! All the other vehicles came through the obstacle with the only the “starter-motor repaired” Cherokee revisiting the training module on the importance of maintaining momentum.

 

The third tester was a steep (and I mean STEEP) decent with again crossing the “dry” stream. The experienced kept the right foot hovering over the throttle while the inexperienced kicked at the brake pedal in panic (some even hit it, as was evident by the side-ways sliding of the rear end of those vehicles). The brake lights are always a dead giveaway, so no amount of “Mr Cool” pretence will help.

 

Not being a medical man I have never understood the interconnectivity of the muscles in the human body, you know? When the eyelids pull back and the eyes opens wide, the shallow breathing through slightly opened mouth and the remote circular muscle contracts with force, then involuntarily, the finger muscles tighten around the steering wheel to the degree that the circulation to the finger tips are completely cut-off, revealing ghoulish white knuckles. This happens on every trail. Funny, hey?

 

 

In the over-bearing heat of the afternoon Gunner decided that he had had sufficient value for his (trail) money and announced that he was on his way back to the shady camp site to sip Soweto Pepsi and start a fire for an early evening braai (a huge Texan steak and venison wors were ready to be sacrificed). BlouBul, Gladiator, Mal Charlie and Romeo stayed behind to test the remaining loops and river crossings with Candyman, Teddy, Rooibaard, Joepies’ and KiteFlyer following Gunner back to base camp.

 

This troop weren’t 5 minutes down the dirt track when there was a stressed call from Mal Charlie. Gladiator was in deep, deep trouble and his vehicle was about to roll over. The prospective early afternoon relaxers immediately turned the convoy around and headed back along the upper river route. There was no indication of where the trouble was. The mob parked their vehicles and walked back along the stream until they spotted Gladiator & Blue Bull. They progressed no more than 50 metres from where our ways parted.

 

What a sight for sore eyes! There was the Hilux all ready to do a pirouette on the left back wheel with Cois standing on the right front wheel to keep it from rolling over. His own vehicle mimicking the dying scene of Swan Lake, complete with one rear wheel lifted higher than the cabin roof and nose firmly nestled in the sloshy mud. The mob was quick to tie a rope between the steel bumper of Mal Charlie’s Disco and the Hilux in order to stabilise the would-be ballerina. KiteFlyer got behind the steering wheel of the Ranger and manoeuvred it into a level position (BIG mistake – never,never drive another man’s vehicle, even if it is the same make as yours!). Who has a spade? No-one! Gunner turned to fetch his trusty shovel. Then someone stopped him. They found a spade (and one is enough……). And a snatch rope. And shackles. And an airbag. And, and, and ….

 

Enter Boswell Wilke circus! This was entertainment like NO-ONE had foreseen. The genius who could write a script for the subsequent scenes must still be born. No overall plan. No recognised leader/co-ordinator. But, plenty of tow ropes, shackles, V6 power, almost complete lack of common sense and a fair amount of thinly disguised panic. Plenty of free advice all round. Gunner suggested that they dig away the excess soil. The necks jerk the faces towards him in unison, complete as if a sergeant-major gave the order. He received the LOOK. You know, the “look” one would get telling a joke about the Pope in a pub in Ireland. He expected them to work with a shovel like a common labourer? And this while they had all the high tech equipment and plenty of kW’s and N-m’s. Gunner is a bloody fool! Maybe the heat affected his senses.

 

Actually, Gunner is no fool! What is more, he has a finely developed sense of self-preservation. His motto is “No pain – no pain”. He refrained from passing any other offending comments and retreated to his spot on the hill sipping a Soweto Pepsi whilst observing the hive of activity below. With the Hilux stabilised everyone concentrated on getting the Ranger “unstuck”. But Vot-a-Gewildt to use a Yiddish expression.

 

 

 

See some of the spectators sitting in the shade of Mal Charlie’s anchor point below:

 

 

 

 

KiteFlyer was the first volunteer to drive down and cross the “Rubicon” in order to snatch Blue Bull out of his predicament. He especially avoided dirt the whole day as the vehicle was about to be traded in on a new 4x4 the next week! But alas, someone had to do the snatching.

 

Candyman drove a Hilux double cab with double roof-top tents. What was of importance here, however, was that the vehicle was equipped with a winch! He admitted that he did not know how to operate the contraption, but he rolled out the cable and hook anyway. People were most pleased, especially Gladiator. That was until it was realised that there was a tiny problem. Someone removed the winch control instrument from the storage space in the Hilux. Talk about owning a Ferrari without an ignition key! So, the steel cord was ceremonially wrapped around the number plate holder and after a considerable effort Candyman managed to turn the vehicle around in the sand slope on the hill. Yes, another close call.

 

 

 

 

 

The helpers huffed and puffed, and snatched and snatched and snatched. How Mal Charlie and KiteFlyer escaped whip-lash only they would know. The heat sapped all the energy (and all the brains it seemed) and it was clear that there was absolutely no progress. The helpers AND the spectators were getting desperate. A suggestion was made that everyone club-in R50 so that the R500 recovery fee can be paid to farmer Isak, just to put an end to the misery. The Chairman even suggested that the club pay the fee as it was such good entertainment all-round. He was sure that the Treasurer would condone the expenditure once he was fully informed of the circumstances.

 

 

The decision was unanimous. Fetch farmer Isak for the recovery. At least half the audience were following Gunner back to the campsite. The young ones in the back of the Disco complained about the heat, but they were equally glad for the opportunity to get into the pool at the shady camp. Gunner sped along the twisty, sandy road to find the relieve party (like despatch riding Dick King of old). When “Mrs” Romeo enquired over the air about a gear selection in the Cherokee he confirmed her intuition. He did not have the heart to tell her that he has never been inside a Jeep (of any description) in his entire life!

 

Mean-while, back at the ranch someone found sweet Miranda and Farmer Isak. Now, Farmer Isak is a man of Africa, complete with two-tone brown Gucci slip-ons, tight-fitting Bermuda shorts, the cheese-cloth (or was it organic cotton?) shirt fashionably tied in a knot just below the navel revealing a neatly waxed chest and wearing a wide rimmed genuine leather hat to complete the outfit. Late on a Saturday afternoon he could have indulged in a number of things, but he agreed to come to the rescue and everyone appreciated this. It was more or less at that stage that we discovered the reason for the morning’s grumpiness with the adjacent group of 4x4 enthusiasts was that they were bogged down at the very same spot. They immediately offered to assist with the recovery. What splendid fellows they were!

 

When I arrived back at the location where Gladiator and Blue Bull were stuck the mood was much relieved all-round. Joepies (in his Puma Defender) managed to snatch the Hilux free from that awkward spot-of-bother. All that was required were three lengths of snatch strap/rope and the understanding of the mechanics of a kinetic device(s). Three cheers for Joepies!

 

The same could not be said about the Ford, though. Teddy’s brand new air bag didn’t help, numerous snatches did not help (damaged the front bumper of the Ford in the process), half-hearted spade work didn’t help, what next? The new advisors lifted the spirits some-what, after all, they managed to get the Rangie unstuck, didn’t they? Tune into KFM, out with the cigarettes, rev the engine and spin the wheels. “Manne dit is lekker hier!!!” But wait, what was that sound? Yes, Gladiator was stuck a bit further down stream. Again. Gunner shook his head – Mal Charlie did the recovery. An easy one that time.

 

Shortly afterwards Farmer Isak, sweet Miranda and Adolf (even the name is ominous) arrived in a Defender Pick-up. They had recovery equipment of note. The steel rope was surely a surplus length from the Table Mountain Aerial Cable Company main catenary and the manual winch block was the biggest I have ever seen. Farmer Isak was looking for volunteers to carry the equipment to the trouble spot and I just could not bring myself to tell him that if I walked the hill one more time my legs would collapse underneath me, so I carried the rope to the anchor vehicle (Mal Charlie’s Disco with the steel bumpers back and front). I crawled back to my vantage point and kept a low profile from then on.

 

 

Farmer Isak and Adolf went to work almost immediately, but not before lecturing BlouBul on the virtues of walking an obstacle PRIOR to driving it and the exact meaning of “Grade 5”, i.e. a purpose-built modified vehicle was required to successfully encounter such an obstacle. According to Lasagne the entrance to the “spot of bother” was marked as a Grade 4 and not all that tricky except for the revenge of Lady Luck. Well, well, a matter of opinion I would say (why did the others get stuck in the exact same spot then? Lady Luck?)

 

From my vantage point on the hill I could see what appeared to be a 17^th century experiment in the laws of physics of Forces and Gravity, you know, the kind of experiment scientists carried out prior to the days of Newton and Galileo. Picture the scene: The Ford is stuck in a natural cattle dip – front of vehicle facing the deep side. The angle of the soil against the front grill of the vehicle was of the order of 87º to the horizontal. The Land Rover (anchor point) was parked about 30 metres away. The rear wheels of the Ford were in sloppy mud. Farmer Isak attached the steel recovery rope to shackles on either end and proceeded to manual winch. I mean, something had to give. He managed to pull the Disco towards the Ford. Next Gladiator’s Hilux was added to the anchor side and the winching process repeated. What were they trying to do? Reduce the circumference of the earth? I just had to watch this!

 

BANG!!!! One of the shackles snapped in half and a recovery point on the front steel bumper of the Disco was no more (like Monty Python’s dead parrot). Farmer Isak surrendered. He gathered his gear and returned to the Landy pick-up. No, he was not prepared to fetch a tractor – it would only get stuck as well (and he should know). What now? They have surely tried everything. The sun was setting fast and a romantic full moon rose in the east like a giant ball of cheese. The scene reminded Gunner of the Beatles’ song:

 

“The Fool on the Hill saw the sun going down,

 

And round, and round, and round ………”

 

(Apologies to Lennon-McCartney)

 

With the entire troop of spectators watching, the “Manne” working on the recovery realised that “die gort is nou gaar”. They were on their own with only the dubious moral support of the spectators on the embankment. And it was getting dark very quickly. They were desperate! They were staring at one another for inspiration.

 

What now?

 

 

 

Allow me to digress at this point. If you have ever over-nighted at the camping spot on the Linyati River in Chobe Game Reserve you will have no problem in recalling the scenario in the river as the sun is disappearing on the horizon in a typical African sunset. The air is pregnant with anticipation as Ellie the elephant, Corrie the crocodile and Harry the Hippo and his harem size one another up and then without warning burst into activity, jostling and demarcating space for the night. And then as suddenly as it started it dies down and all is quiet – not even a ripple in the water. In the distance the King of the Jungle announces that the fun& games for the night are about to begin. You understand what I’m saying!?

 

Well, after the initial accusations and counter claims in respect of who was actually responsible for the situation the “Manne” grabbed the poor spade and frantically started to dig the soil away from the front of the Ford. As the one helper got exhausted the other took over without the slightest pause in the rhythm. In the light of the rising moon I could see that friction (another experiment in Physics?) caused the humble spade to glow “wit-warm”. It was not a pretty sight. Many a man appreciates the stringy evidence of a tanga panty when a lass bends forward to reach for …. whatever. On the other hand, men carrying out manual labour in sandals dressed in sweaty, long shorts slipping down as they bend their backs digging, thus revealing the horror of the lower rear male anatomy is awful! Macabre pornography of the worst kind.

 

The 87º angle was promptly reduced to a respectable high 30º (angle of repose). Farmer Isak’s metal tracks were dropped into the mud as a base for the trolley jack from Romeo’s Cherokee (which broke the suction). A sizable kinetic strap attached to the Hilux of Gladiator (funny, Gunner could have sworn that there were two vehicles that did the pulling, but maybe a touch of sunstroke or the Soweto Pepsi’s, or both, affected his memory). The recovery vehicle moved forward in low range second gear and at an even slow speed AND …….. the dark blue 4-litre V6 Ford Ranger “ploepped” out of the mud-hole with the ease of one spitefully plucking the dummy out of one’s older sister’s first-born baby’s mouth (when no-one is watching).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the bright moonlight the happy convoy headed for the Cottage and RDP lookalikes, some were hoping for a well-deserved swim in the smaller pool. There was no such luck – the young ones occupied the pool and were in no mood to surrender their territory. Teddy, Candyman and their crews had started the fire, prepared the (one-at-a-time) braai spot (a remote spot about 4 metres way from the fire), made salads and formed the Welcoming Committee!

 

 

 

Now, this smaller lapa is a fine spot for two or maybe three couples enjoying a communal meal. Ten vehicles worth of adults plus children into a venue for maximum three vehicles simply don’t do. But, what a scene! Teddy scrutinising the (new to her) mob, BeNice rubbing Gladiator’s absolutely filthy feet in order to comfort him, Blue Bull & KiteFlyer apologising and counter-apologising on who should take responsibility for the longest recovery in the history of the club. And so on and so forth. Gladiator’s eyes closed early and he never had his usual dash of coffee in his cup of Red Heart.

 

The trailists were restricted to one person barbequing whatever he or she brought along. One grill on the coals at a time. A little after ten (and myself still being No 4 in the queue!) my friend Isak-from-school managed to braai our two packets of sausage. Venison Wors-on-rolls. And that was it for the night. Night-caps at the leafy campsite and off to bed we went. Exhausted!

 

Early the next morning Mal Charlie & Gunner were watching the sun rise as the rest of the campers slowly rolled into life, Kiteflyer followed by Joepies & wife, etc. Last to surface were Romeo (& Juliet).

 

Mal Charlie broke camp, mumbled an excuse for leaving before the convoy was ready and left quietly. Teddy had a lunch-time appointment and headed for Durbanville. The remaining four vehicles gathered at the small lapa from where Candyman, KiteFlyer and Gunner took the road to Elandsbaai (Hotel, of course). Romeo followed them soon afterwards and Rooibaard, Gladiator and BlouBul stayed on at Jakkalskloof Cottage for a while longer.

 

After a few Ales at the bar KiteFlyer and Gunner headed home via Velddrif, Hopefield and Malmesbury. And “Manne”, take a tip from me “Do not mess with Ma Baker serving behind the bar at the hotel!!!!” Not unless you have a burning desire to use some of your sick leave.

 

The rest of my report is hearsay. I believe Candyman and Romeo went for lunch at the Riviera Hotel in Velddrif. Rooibaard returned home to the Weskus and BlouBul and Gladiator took the N7 home to the Boerewors Belt. The grapevine grumbled something about brakes being clogged with mud and roadside repairs in the flaming hot sun, but I cannot confirm that.

 

 

 

 

 

Staakvuur!