Okay, so the Karoo National Park hadn't exactly lived up to my expectations. More likely, I hadn't used the facility to its full potential.

Regardless of how or why, the Gypsy took over & had Nyati pointed South, rolling along the dreaded N1, main arterial route between Jo'burg & Cape Town at about 2500 rpm.

"What the hell are we doing " ?
"It's the quickest route to Sutherland… look at the GPS".
"Fuck the N1, & fuck the GPS, We'll turn right at the next turn & follow the sun, its going West through the wild Karoo. Lets see what's happening in "Merweville".
"But, but, but".
"But, but what" ?
"The mountains".
"Fuck the mountains".

Oh yeah, it's no wonder I didn't really enjoy the Karoo National in this frame of mind.

Instant gratification.
"See ? I've never been wrong before,  & here I am… Right again".

As soon as we left the N1, the gravel road took us, winding through gorgeous, portrait quality, Karoo landscapes. Uncluttered, stretching as far as the eye could see.
Young mountains right & left.

"Well-being" settled over me & driving Nyati became pleasurable again.

The well modulated voice out of the GPS
finally stopped whinging about "re-calculating" & "make a U turn at the next possible opportunity"… Just as well, it was getting irritating.

Then there was Merweville…

I wonder just who the hell he was.
How did he get people to follow… & stay.
They built a church of course, & a causeway across the bottom of the dried up riverbed leading to the isolated farmsteads in the "Kareeberge" mountain range.

"These GPS's are fucking useless… I'm not turning around".

The door to the Municipal Office was slightly ajar, just enough for inquisitive employees to peer out at Nyati.

"Djaa Maneeer, Sutherland… Djaa you kan, on the plaas trrack, BUT you have to krross the MOUNTAIN".

"Oh shit".
"Told you".
"Shuddup".

Back across the causeway & up to the first farm gate,  closed but not locked.
A polite, (it was in Afrikaans, it had to have been polite) reminder to close the hek because of sheep. Well the painting looked something like a heavy sheep.

Hanibal must have felt like this, but he only had elephants.
I had Nyati.

As we drove along the dirt track, between gates & cattle grids, the Kareeberge range loomed large, like a young Everest.

Nyati seemed to gather momentum.
Using power through the lower gears in high ratio,  I thought I heard the chant, "What's the point in going, if you're not going all the way ?  What's the point in going, if you're not going all the way" ?

And, UP we went.

The track was ominously devoid of recent tyre marks & perilously narrow… You know, sort of bakkie width… sort of.
Nyati didn't miss a beat.
I normally never use 1st (crawler) gear,  but this Mother was VERY steep, so, still in high range, keeping the revs between 1800 & 2200,  we walked up & up that mountain track.
Some of the bends were "marginal".
This was no time for buggering about. Attempting to stop, reverse & improve the angle… Too steep for that.
Nope, Nyati's firestone's managed some first time road widening as we went.

Somewhere, I've read that in Asia, these're called "Mountain trucks".
Well, I can understand why.
Provided you keep all 4 wheels on the road & don't rev the shit out of them, they simply keep going regardless of the load, road, distance or incline.

15 gates later, I was more tired than Nyati was, & remember, Nyati's carrying about a ton over the official rating for a 911 like this.

I LOVE this truck.

Anyone who's hiked in the Natal Drakensberg will know the exultation of cresting that final ridge & looking back down the path to where the effort started… It was like that.

Just before Sutherland, the farm track joins the road again.(The LAST gate) There I stopped & spoke to a farmer who told me that the road's used by the locals mostly but many an overambitious visitor has had to unload their trailers or bakkie to negotiate the last section.
I just nodded, knowingly… "Thank you Nyati my hero".

What a great day…

Before leaving Kloof, I was asked how long I would be away.
I answered that, "I wasn't counting how many times I took a breath.
I was counting how many times my breath was taken away."

Today, I lost count.

And, yes, I DID close every gate, but I hadn't the nerve to fire up the GPS again… Have they got a residual memory,  I wonder ?

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