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Taking Back My Heart

This is the story of how my journey began, on my BMW R1200GS, and continued through Southern and Eastern Africa… (December 2007 – March 2008)

Introduction…

November 2007…

What do you do when it feels that the world is pressing down too tightly around you, when your life’s dreams are falling to pieces before your eyes? When all of your carefully thought out plans for the future of your family are crumbling, and your belief in yourself and the people closest to you begins to wane…

In my case, I could not find any answers to the above questions, and was tired of hearing advice from both family and friends who trotted out all the standard lines such as, “You’ll get over it..” and “Time heals everything…”, none of which I wanted to believe… I wanted to get away from it all, to be alone with my thoughts, rely on nobody but myself…

I had tried to make sense of the circumstances in which I found myself, read the books purporting to shed light on the psychological changes that men and women go through at various stages of their lives… I had attended the therapy sessions, taken the prescribed anti-depressants for six months and still could not bring myself to reach a point where I found total acceptance of where my life was heading…

The “good” days grew shorter and fewer… The “bad” days seemed longer and came more frequently… I needed to put a stop to the negativity I had surrounded myself with, and the only way I could think of to do this, was to get away from everything connected to my everyday life…before I stopped caring altogether…

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Vanessa and I on the “unforgettable” ski holiday… Solden, Austria 2006

I had always had it in mind to do a long trip through the parts of Africa that I could reach in a vehicle. I had made short trips into Namibia, Botswana and Mozambique, had visited a number of other African countries for business and pleasure, but had never made an extended trip which would take me away for a longer than normal period of time…I originally planned to make the trip in a 4 x 4 vehicle with a suitable trailer, and spent time investigating the various options available to me in this regard. I planned to buy the ever dependable Toyota Land Cruiser pickup, and then work my way through the various trailer options on offer…

My plans had naturally included my wife Vanessa, to whom I had been married for 17 years, as I could think of no one else who I’d rather have with me on such a trip of discovery and adventure… Being an avid photographer, she would be able to capture the images we experienced, while I steered us into the wilderness and wrote about our adventures and experiences. We even discussed the possibility of taking a year off, having our children board at school, while we went about our travels…

As 2006/7 slid by, my reasoning for an extended trip of this nature took on a new dimension… The many years I had spent being a “weekend Dad and father” as a result of my business interests, had taken their toll on our marriage, and Vanessa had asked me for a divorce… I figured that a year away together, without the stresses of our everyday lives, would give us an opportunity to re-connect on the levels that she had retreated from during the last few years of our marriage…

Regrettably, my efforts to convince her not to press ahead with the divorce and to undertake such a trip with me, proved futile, and by the end of 2007, I realized that I had to face the very real prospect of a life on my own. I believed that before I could begin this new season of my life, I needed to rid myself of the pain and sadness that the process of the divorce had engendered in me. I had devoted my working life to the betterment of my family, and I felt cast adrift in a sea of change… fighting against currents I did not understand…and still don’t today…

I knew that I was strong enough to overcome them in time, but believed the process would take much longer if I remained under the present and constant stresses that my business entailed. I felt the need to mourn this enormous loss on my own, hopefully let the grief I felt, seep out of me…deal with the sadness that had enveloped me completely… The love I felt for Vanessa was so engrained in my psyche that a part of me believed I could not properly function without her….and sometimes still does…

It was a question of “fight or flight”, and I chose to do the latter first, to try and rid myself of the anger I felt at times, anger that often exploded into my mind and made me think thoughts better left off paper… I was devastated by her decision, which had wrought havoc with my confidence, my trust and my belief in the human race…women in particular…

Looking back over the notes I made prior to my departure, I came across this one scribbled on the back of one of my maps… “I have no idea if this trip will lay the demons that haunt me to rest…, or change the sense of failure that hangs around my neck, weighing me down…. There are perhaps not enough kilometers out there to do this in…”

Reading this again reminds me of how hopeless I felt at the time. I desperately needed something to take my mind off my problems… a challenge that would require me to be focused at all times. Thoughts of what might have been, were torturing me, keeping me filled with pain and a deep sadness that I no longer could afford to dwell on… I knew that letting go of my feelings was going to prove difficult, but I had to do something… Something extraordinary…

I put thoughts of doing a trip in a 4×4 and trailer aside, and began considering the possibility of doing this trip on a bike… I realized that there would not be the possibility of having a back-up vehicle to depend on, as few people would be able to get the time off required to make a journey of the magnitude that I was considering, and besides, I wanted to be alone…to do this alone…

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The “Big Fella”…

Both Vanessa and I owned an BMW F 650 GS, but had decided to sell them, as well as our quad bikes, in order to begin the painful process of dividing our assets… I had enjoyed riding the 650, the biggest bike I had ever owned, but in the 7 years I had it, I had put barely 13 000 km on the clock!! Vanessa had ridden hers even less, but still enjoyed the short trips we took together on weekends. Clearly, I did not fit into the category of the true “Biker”!! I had ridden scramblers as a teenager, and had owned a Yamaha DT 125 in the early days of our marriage, which both Vanessa and I rode through the plantations in Swaziland, until she fell pregnant with our first child.

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His and Hers… Vanessa and I on our BMW F 650 GS’s…

The transition to the F 650 had been a bold step on my part and it wasn’t long before Vanessa wanted one of her own… I managed to find the identical model to mine and bought it for her in 2001… I got a huge kick out of watching people as she took off her helmet whenever we stopped… The envy on both the guys and their girlfriend’s faces was a sight to see, and made me especially proud of the fact that my wife could ride a big bike as well as any other rider I knew…

Having sold our bikes, I took the plunge and upgraded to the R 1200 GS; far more suited to long distance riding that my original “650”. The additional weight of the (much!) bigger bike caused some concern and a few “hairy moments”, but after a few weeks, I managed to overcome the anxieties that threatened to take control of my enjoyment of this magnificent machine!!

During the course of November 2007, I bought practically every other gadget which I had not had put on when I bought the bike, and had them fitted on by Auto Alpina in Boksburg. Denver Biggs and his team provided invaluable advice in this respect. I had received a few raised eyebrows from them when I told them of the trip I had planned…

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The “Big Fella” debuts in my life…, 25th May 2007

“On your own, eh…” I remember Denver saying, while searching for signs of madness in my eyes… Jacques in the spares department went through the Wunderlich catalogue with me and made a few more suggestions… Compressor, extended tool kit, spare globes for my spots, extended front mudguard… The list goes on and on… I wanted to be sure that I was fully prepared to take the solo trip that was slowly taking shape in my mind. I also bought a Motorrad rain suit, a new pair of boots, a lighter pair of gloves and a host of other kit, all with the advice of Elridge at Auto Alpina, who had assisted me in choosing the right kit when I first bought the bike back in May…

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Loaded and ready for the trip to Nelspruit…

I have never had a “technical interest” in bikes, and some of the things that were suggested made little or no sense at all, until they were hauled out of the store and shown to me. The items in the extended tool kit (which I would be passing to whoever was working on the bike!!), a compressor to re-inflate the tyres if needed (this was one I could do myself!), a puncture kit (which I would also be passing to whoever was fixing the puncture!!), were all discussed in detail while the cashier gleefully rang up my purchases….

I bought a two-man tent and a sleeping bag, which I managed to squeeze inside a waterproof Motorrad Tog Bag, and fitted it to the pillion seat with a few bungi cords. There would be no place for a passenger on this trip… that was a certainty! I also had an extra charging unit fitted around the console so that I could charge multiple bits of electronic equipment which I planned to cart along with me… I envisaged having all these gadgets in the Tank-Bag, so that they could charge while I rode, and this plan worked out perfectly…

With the help of a paramedic friend, Dianna, I kitted out an extensive first aid kit, all the while hoping I would never have to delve into its contents…some of which put the frighteners on me!! I wanted to ensure that I was as self-sufficient as possible. I dreaded having to “call a friend” to help me out of a tight spot… (It’s a man thing…!!)

As I have already stated, and unlike most bikers I know, I am not in the least interested in the technical aspects of the bike, and have no idea of where most of the parts are located, or even the names given to them. When I decided to buy the 1200 GS, it was because the bike just felt right under me, looked great, and made my heart beat quicker in my chest… That was all I needed!! The pre-delivery speech given by Jonathan Rathbone of Auto Alpina went in one ear and out the other… I knew where the key went, and where the brakes and indicators were; how to open and close the panniers, and that was enough for me!!! Jonathan seemed bemused by my indifference to his long and involved explanations… Point and ride, man!!! That’s what it’s all about!!!

“The Plan” comes together…

My initial plans involved a straightforward trip up through Botswana and Zambia, and on to Malawi, where I have friends whom I planned to spend some time with. I also considered a clockwise trip around South Africa, following our borders…

Finally, I settled on a far more ambitious project, which involved both of the above options in part. I decided to follow our coastline from Northern KwaZulu all the way into the Cape and then up the West Coast, before heading north through Namibia, along the Caprivi Strip, into Zambia, up to the Tanzanian border, and on to Dar-es-Salaam on the East Coast. I planned to return down the length of Malawi and exit into the Tete Province in Mozambique, and then travel south along the Zimbabwean border before turning East for Beira on the coast. A trip along the Mozambique coastline would eventually see me having a beer on the terrace of the Polana Hotel in Maputo, before heading west for Johannesburg to complete my journey… Didn’t quite work out this way, but with ten weeks to do in, I could afford to be flexible…

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Passport, Int. Drivers License, Vaccine Cert., I.D. Book and Map of course!!

The detailed planning of this trip proved to be a stressful as I thought it might be. There was a raft of paperwork to sort out, a visa for Tanzania, letters from BMW, authorizing me to take the bike through all the countries on the list I had provided them with, certified copies of the bike’s registration papers, confirmation from my insurers that they would provide additional cover for the period I would be away, as well as for the various countries I would be riding through. My insurers advised me that they could not cover the bike in Zambia or Tanzania, which caused more than a little consternation on my part… I had to provide written agreement that in the event of the bike being damaged in either of these countries, I would carry the cost of the transport to one of the neighboring countries, from where they would arrange further transport back to South Africa…

Testing, testing…

In November, I planned and executed a “dry run” to Nata in Botswana, loading the bike with as much kit as I thought I would need for my “Big Trip”, before setting off for the Skilpadshek Border Post, just south of Lobatse. I spent Friday night in a B&B in Gaborone, and left early the next morning bound for Francistown and Nata. On the way to Francistown, with a flat, clear road ahead of me, I decided to see how fast the bike could go with a full load aboard. At 202km/h I thundered through the dry, sandy scrub-land….exhilarating! I had earlier sweet-talked my way onto a weigh bridge to see just how heavy the bike was in “fully-loaded mode” and was surprised to find that with me on board, it weighed in at 386 kilograms!!! I realized then that if I ever dropped it, there had better be a few kind folk in close proximity, otherwise there was no chance of getting this bike back to the vertical on my own…

I had a quick bite to eat in Francistown, and then headed west for Nata. On the way there I encountered a herd of eight elephant, which I initially, from a distance of a few hundred metres, mistook for a patch of large boulders next to the road! I stopped about fifty metres from them once I had realized that they were not the inanimate objects that I had at first assumed them to be! We watched each other for a few minutes and then they ambled off, and I let the clutch out and continued eastwards. I was thrilled to have been able to view these amazing animals at such close quarters from the seat of a motorbike… I had been much closer to elephant before, both on foot and in a safari vehicle, but somehow I felt more vulnerable on the bike… Perhaps it was the fact that the nearest large tree was a few kilometers behind me!!!

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Shortly before my “Dry Run” to Nata in Botswana, we brought our bikes up to Jhb for their first service…

On reaching Nata, I considered the camping option, but after cruising around for a while, decided to make use of a small B&B. I ate a few energy bars and fell into bed at about 8.00pm, as I knew I had a long ride awaiting me the following day. On Sunday, I left Nata at 5.00am, bound for Jhb, 965km away… This ride exposed the fact that I have a rather bony backside, and that the standard BMW seat would result in aches and pains that I had rarely experienced before!!

The ride back through Francistown and Gaborone was fairly uneventful, but long. I passed more Kori Bustards that I could count and numerous comatose donkeys, standing dead still in the heat of the day. A dove misjudged its flight across the road and collided with the top of my helmet, causing a wobble that I fought to control. Later, a small flock of weavers flew low over the baking tarmac in front of me, some of them going through the spokes of the front wheel!! Feathers and entrails were thrown up into the air, some of them adhering to my jacket and pants legs below my knees. I stopped to ensue that all was well with the front wheel, and used some of my water to wash the blood and other detritus off my gear…

I had no problems at the border posts and spent little time getting through them. With the sun on my back, I continued west on the N4 towards Johannesburg at a steady clip. I entered Oaklands Golf Estate a little after 6.30pm, exhausted by the ride, but exhilarated by what I had accomplished. I knew then that what I had brewing in my mind was possible, as long as it did not involve too many days covering almost a 1000 kilometers!!

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The Finer Details…

I was advised to obtain an International Driver’s License, which I was told was often asked for by the Traffic Authorities in foreign countries. As it turned out, I was never asked to produce this license… I also had to have a “ZA” sticker clearly affixed to the bike, which I was loathe to do…! Again, none of the traffic officers that stopped me on my trip ever asked to see this sticker, which was attached to the back of my Top-Box… I paid the obligatory R125.00 for the driver’s license and bought the sticker from a camping outlet in Nelspruit.

Then there was the dreaded list of “suggested” inoculations…. Those who know me will attest to the fact that needles and I are not close friends… On the 10th of December I reported to the SAA Travel and Vaccine Clinic. (The name alone conjured up images of unwilling participants in some sinister medical experiment!) I filled out a form stating which countries I was planning to visit and was told to wait for the “nurse”. Images of a stout Germanic type woman, gleefully bearing a tray of needles assailed my thoughts while I waited, a visible sheen of sweat coating my brow…

I tried to take my mind off these terrifying thoughts by reading some of the posters on the walls around me….no solace there, I’m afraid….there was what seemed like a VERY long list of diseases one could contract in the areas I was planning to visit…I began to wander if this was a very good idea after all…. I was finally ushered into an office which was dominated by three refrigerators holding many types of vaccines (and other chemicals probably used for purposes of biological warfare).

The nurse sat behind her desk perusing the forms I had filled in, pursing her lips from time to time. Her eyes seemed to widen a little more with each country she read aloud from the form. She gave me a long look and then proceeded to tick off on her fingers the vaccines I would need…when she crossed from her right hand to her left, I had visions of her having to use her toes as well, and called a halt to her recitations. She looked up and saw that I had turned a peculiar shade of grey and asked what the matter was. I explained my aversion to needles, which she answered with a smirk that told me I was in big trouble here… Sympathy was clearly not one of her stronger traits…

She then proceeded to empty one of the fridges of what seemed like its entire contents, turned to me and said, “You will need all of these if you plan on visiting the countries on that list, my Boy!” Suddenly, a holiday on the South Coast seemed like a better plan… Before I could offer any further objections, she began preparing the needles. I looked at the wall on my left while she pulled my right shirt sleeve up, and offered the following words of encouragement, “Ok, the first two will hurt….after that you won’t feel a thing…”

Right arm received Yellow Fever, Hepatitis A and Hepatitis B. She then came around to my left, while my eyes swiveled away to the wall on my right… Up went the left shirt sleeve, and in went more needles. This time Typhoid, Tetanus and Cholera…. I managed to avoid the rabies shot by promising not to pat stray animals of any description whilst on my travels….

I made for the door, but was called back, told to sit down, and received a 10 minute lecture on Malaria. I was then advised on the various prophylactics that were on the market and which one she thought best suited me for the areas I was traveling to. The cost of the first type she suggested would have severely curtailed the amount of money I had mentally put aside for the fuel I would need, the second one could cause severe depression, and possibly lead to suicidal behavior, and the third one was only 70% effective. Difficult choice!!! Deciding on the latter option and with two boxes of Doximal in hand, I fled to the cashier’s desk before the nurse could think of any further vaccines to give me…

I was well aware that aspects of my trip involved a certain amount of risk… Besides the fact that I would be covering a mere 17 000 odd kilometers to complete it, I would be traveling alone, in foreign countries, where crime might be a factor… With the above in mind, I sat down one night and updated my Last Will and Testament, beginning with the line, “I, Ronnie Remeiro Goncalves-Borrageiro, being of relatively sound mind and body…”… “Relative” being the key word here…!! I handed sealed copies of my Will to my sister and a close friend, Guy More… Better be prepared for the worst, I was thinking…!!

The remainder of the week was spent packing and repacking my kit, stressing about the few items I had not yet obtained for the trip, and changing my mind about the exact route to take. In this regard, I was determined to be as flexible as was possible. I decided that due to the length of the trip, to plan to be in an exact location on any specific day would not be necessary. The only fairly fixed part of the itinerary was that I had promised Peter and Carol Kemp that I would see them in Malawi during the last few days of January. They were planning a trip to their Lake House to repair their boat and to spend a few days thereafter chilling on the lake, gin & tonics in hand, fiery sunsets on the horizon and thoughts of the rat race far behind in their wake…an invitation I felt could not be refused…

One group of items which caused me the most concern, were all the electrical chargers I had to replace with those that could be charged directly off the bike itself. I needed a charger for the cell phone, one for the lap-top, one for the I-Pod, one for each of the cameras (Nikon 880 and a Sony Cybershot), another for my Dictaphone, and one to charge the Blue Tooth connection to my helmet, which allows me to answer telephone calls without stopping to frantically dig around for the phone itself. It also allowed me to listen to the soothing advice of the “Garmin Lady”… More about her later…!!

I managed to locate all that was needed the day before my departure. George and his father at “The Good Guys” at East Gate shopping mall helped me sort out all the connections and gave me excellent advice. The look in their eyes when I told them why I needed all this stuff, told me that they did not expect to see me ever again!!

By Friday night, the 14th of December, I decided that I was as ready as I was ever going to be. A deep calm seemed to spread though me and I could feel a permanent smile on my face that I had not felt for some time… My sister Charmaine and I lay sprawled on my couches, chatting about “things that could go wrong”, none of which fazed me anymore… I was ready to do this trip, even though I knew it was not necessarily going to be a happy one for me… I needed to experience a challenge which would focus my mind and energy on something besides my impending divorce from the woman whom I had loved for so long…

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Dinkweng, Dec 2006… Our last holiday together…

Well after midnight, and after my sister had gone to bed, I lay thinking about Vanessa, Roxanne and Robyn, who had flown to London a few days before to spend a month with Vanessa’s family… They had kept their trip a secret from me for months, never discussing it with me until I forced the issue by making suggestions for our December holidays… I had no idea if they had arrived safely, as neither of them had bothered to let me know… Another thread of my sanity had been cut, and the need to get away from it all needed to be fed…

I got out of bed and sat fiddling with the words to a Rod Stewart song and came up with this version of my own:

“Far out there somewhere, a river runs,

While here I sit… my sanity slipping away…

The good life still exists, but in some other place,

Maybe I’ll find it while I’m out there riding… someday…

The flames in my soul are burning higher than ever before,

Burning down the bridges of my memories…

Love may still be alive, somewhere, some way,

Maybe I’ll find it, a hundred small towns away…

The rhythm of my heart is beating like a drum,

And the words “I’ll miss you” are rolling off my tongue,

The roads are out there, inviting me to roam…

It’s seems so much easier when you no longer have a home…

Where the horizon meets the sky, I’ll be aiming…

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The calm I had felt earlier that evening had evaporated, replaced by a deep sense of loss… I wrestled with the sadness and the pain, the tightness in my chest, while images of my family flashed before me… I thought about the possible dangers of what I was about to embark on, and with my mind in turmoil, wondered if I’d ever see them again… “What if…” scenarios played havoc in my mind, filling me with dread… How would they remember me if I didn’t make it back? Had I really done all I could to avoid the break-up of my marriage, my family…

The last thing I remember thinking before I fell into a troubled sleep, was that it was too late to change anything… Vanessa had made her choice… I had to try to use the next few months on the road to get my act together…

The story of this incredible journey begins here.