The Ranger, stomach politics and a 1000 kilometres.

Last month, I took a drive from Durban to Gqeberha (formerly Port Elizabeth). In all the preparation I could do, I overlooked one very small but very important factor - the road conditions. I do not mean whether the roads are good or bad, but rather if there are road repairs and how they would affect my travelling?

That question was answered not long after I passed Mount Ayliff in the Eastern Cape, where the major N2 road maintenance is currently taking place. The "you go-I go" aka "Stop-n-Goes" are serial to an unbearable level and they occur in series all the way down towards Makhanda (Grahamstown).

These start roughly from Mvalweni and get worse as you get to Qumbu, Mthatha, Qunu, Idutywa to Toleni. I caught a small break from the Great Kei Bridge to Ziphunzana, with the last one in that region being close to Kwajongilanga and what seemed to be the very last one, just outside Peddie, in what I suspect is the Mabofolweni region. Okay, so the major missing context here is that I left Durban around midday and I was hoping to be in the hotel, in bed by midnight...in Gqeberha, right? No! Try after 03h00 the following morning.

With a busy day ahead, which included a less time-sensitive return leg back to KZN, there was no way I was going through those stop-n-goes again. Nevertheless, after waking up around 09h00 and fulfilling the purpose of my visit in Gqeberha, it was time to return upcountry and that is where this story starts.

After checking out of the hotel just before 10h00, I noticed that the left front tyre lost a bit pressure. Usually, it is noticeable after ten days or so (slow puncture). So, the tyre required to be inflated.

By my good eye sight, after squinting and pulling my face, as if I just sucked on a lemon. I noticed a shiny metal piece sticking out of the tyre. At close inspection, it was a star-screw that was well wedged into the tyre, which explained the loss of air pressure little-by-little.

I attended to it by getting to Hi-Q on Govan Mbeki Drive in the Gqeberha CBD. Their service was ultra-fast - they did not even take the tyre off the vehicle. What a sharp group of Professor Xavier’s ?X-Men Mutants. Crazy super powers.

Eight minutes and R50.00 later, I drove out to the nearest petrol station to top up the air in the tyre and off I went onto the N2, heading east to KZN.

I stopped on the edge of the Nelson Mandela Bay Municipality, at the Colchester BP service station, where I filled up with 76 litres of fuel (in an 80-liter tank). A strong sense of serious curiosity engulfed my mind. ?

How far could I could go with one full tank of diesel, avoiding the N2 as much as I can? I was curious to find out.

So, like Smeagol in the Lord of The Rings, my lone adventure began. So, I set off east…

I rejoined the N2 from Colchester to Makhanda (Grahamstown) just after 15h00 and quickly got comfortable inside the cabin, cruising along better than the Queen Elizabeth II, as I began those climbs.

I noticed that with the Ford Ranger’s Eco driving mode selected and using Cruise Control, I could really do as little as possible, except to watch this open road that was unfamiliar. For entertainment, I toggled between interesting local radio stations, like Tru FM, Algoa FM, Umhlobo Wenene FM and RSG.

Is it just me, that when listening to other than your favourite radio station, you end up interacting with the presenter of that station, in its language of broadcast? I had no idea that I could speak such fluent IsiXhosa and Afrikaans. I was very impressed. It is a great shame that no one else could testify to this rare gift of being such a Linguist.?

While warming up to the gentle inclines on this compulsory stretch of the N2, I noticed that most of the traffic was going the opposite direction, downhill to Gqeberha. So, all was a good setting for the next 900 kms or so on my end and direction.

As far as my vehicle configurations were concerned:

I set the cruise control on 94 km/h and agreed with myself not to exceed 110 km/h when overtaking. If I happen to overtake anyone gravely slower than I was, I would return to 94 km/h as soon as possible after passing them. Yes? Yes!

All was according to this newly formed plan.

Between Rokeby Park and Assegai River, I was met by a beautiful sunset. ?I pulled over onto these designated road-side rest stops to soak up the moment. A few minutes later I was back on the road and headed to Makhanda. ?

A realisation came to me, that I needed to address the unrest caused by stomach politics. I last ate in the morning at the hotel and there was a serious protest action inside my belly, at this time of the day. What seems to work well and is the most obvious and common democratic choice when it comes to good service delivery in such instances and nature, is to bring calm to any tense protest action, in a hungry traveller’s stomach and genuinely address the belly’s internal politics. ?To democratically elect a KFC streetwise meal, for its convenience, “almost feels like home” meal, normally addresses such stomach uprisings.

Like any democracy, after an urgent but short meeting with myself, I agreed and decided, that it would be a good idea to find a KFC in Makhanda.

Arriving there at dusk, I found myself in the middle of a bee swarm - the town was unusually buzzing. I could not locate a KFC, and the queue at Hungry Lion was too long. I tried the smallest Pick n Pay outlet I have ever seen in my life. It is virtually the size of a large shipping container. That is it! The entire shop. The queue to the pay till goes all the way to the back of the shop and it’s just eight people. No trolleys, all you need to purchase will fit comfortably in your hands or basket. It is a Pick n Pay Spaza.

I took once glance at the door, saw the entire shop…I walked back to the car.? I later learnt on Radio 2000 that it was the "Grahamstown Art Festival". So, as I was walking back to the car, I could not help but admire some great architecture of this town, backlit by the beautiful dusk light.

So, I set off on my journey without my stomach politics and the unrest I was feeling inside. Navigating out of Makhanda was challenging. I took the R67 out of the town, the road began to climb up the slopes and hills, passing ?Fort Brown, Douglas Heights, and Windsor. Since it was night time, I was not able to sight these places. ?

Despite the winding ascent outside, everything seemed to be running smoothly within the cabin of the Ranger. The instrument cluster behind the steering wheel was displaying readings that were exactly as they should be, and the fuel gauge had barely moved, even though I could feel the vehicle working a little harder in Eco driving mode, conquering those long, inclined stretches leading up to KwaMaqoma (Fort Beaufort).

As I continued my journey, I encountered a series of small climbs and inclines, a clear indication that I was heading towards the highlands. I passed through the small towns of Hertzog and Whittlesea, only imagining what the changing landscape looks like in daylight.

Unexpectedly, I turned right onto the R351 at Sada, deciding to make my way to Kati-Kati (Cathcart) rather than sticking to the R67, which would have taken me directly to Komani anyway. Do not ask why. I do not know why I took the R351 either.

At Kati-Kati, I joined the N6 highway towards Komani. I was tempted to take the R61east off the N6 at Imvani, which would have led me to Mthatha, but the thought of navigating the numerous stop-and-go traffic on the N2 was not an appealing option. Instead, I continued along the N6 towards Komani.

As I confidently headed up the N6, I opened the driver’s window. The air felt very crisp and extra fresh. Judging by that, I can bet that residents around here most likely unplug their fridges at this time of the year. Perhaps, just hang meat products, ice cream, mixed veg packets outside their kitchen windows. Like they do in Oymyakon in Russia. Damn it was cold!

As I approached what looked like a possible settlement at a distance, due to the lights. Or it could have been a UFO, luckily it was not.

I had finally arrived at Komani (Queenstown) and easily located a KFC drive-thru. It was my first time visiting this bustling town. As I approached the drive-thru, I could sense the energy in the air. The queue of cars stretched longer than I had anticipated though. Rather than feeling frustrated, I embraced the opportunity to take it all in. The 25 minutes I spent waiting in line were far from a tedious chore.

I loved the sound of IsiXhosa, that echoed through the air. I could not help but step out of the car and eavesdrop on the lively conversations happening all around me. After all, it was month end and it was a Friday night, happy energy in the air from the locals. ?It was a window into the vibrant community of Komani and I loved it.

Once I finally reached the pickup window, I took my parcel and drove off to a Shell Ultra City on the other side of the street. While I addressed the protest action in my stomach. At a seating, behind the steering wheel. It was further agreed that I will not govern my stomach like that ever again. With a full belly and a renewed sense of adventure, I took a much-needed nap, allowing my body to recharge for the next phase of my journey.

A few hours later, like a scene out of WWE WrestleMania XXI, I woke up from my nap like The Undertaker. I looked at the clock, it was a few minutes before 03h00. I had passed out for five hours and a bit. As I opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle, I felt as if I had been transported into a Makro’s “bulk meat-section fridge”– the chill in the air was palpable. Trying to look as cool as I could be and pretending the chill was a figment of the few onlookers’ imagination. I stretched my limbs, performing my signature Kungfu Panda Yoga routine and headed to the restroom to freshen up.

With the ignition on and warming up the cabin. I took a few seconds to check on my instrument cluster. Those hills and long incline below Komani had used up more than a quarter of fuel in the tank. My range was around 900 odd kms left before empty.

From Komani, I set my sights on the town of Khowa (Elliot). Now you need a bit of bravery and have passed your Standard 9 high school Geography to get out here, without getting lost in the dark.

So, I headed back onto the N6 facing KwaMaqoma direction for 1.2km. At the second traffic circle, I made a left turn onto a gravel road, in what looked like an Industrial area. I drove for further 1.5km, arriving at a four-way intersection where I made a left turn onto Royganna Rd, which is also gravel and headed northbound, eventually reaching a T- junction.

A right turn onto the R392 for about ?seven kilometres and another right turn onto the R410 to Cacadu (Lady Frere).

Yes, Komani was now behind me as I went through Nonesi Nek Pass, McKay’s Nek, meandering up to kuKavara. At these mountain passes, overnight the temperatures were warm for this time of the year, ranging between 2-6 degrees Celsius all the way to Cacadu.

I came to a halt at a four-way stop in Cacadu, pulled off heading to Stoneycraft, Cala Pass, as the vegetation changed from grassland to commercial forestry. Feeling like I am literally on top of the world, the road led me to a T-junction, where I joined the R56 to Khowa (Elliot).

As I climbed higher, the temperature dropped outside and the air grew dry, I could tell that I am a couple of hundred of metres above the 1000m mark. The level of “tiredness” set a lot quicker on the body too, proving that I am almost touching the roof of the Eastern Cape province. With this onset on the body, I played it safe in Nqanqarhu and snoozed for ninety mins.

Upon waking up, I was in a far familiar section of the country, reliving the old days where I used to travel from Cape Town to Durban and back, to avoid toll fees on the N3 and N1 via Bloemfontein.

It was now two hours after sunrise and still on R56 eastbound. ?All else was good until, the corner of my left eye caught a glimpse of the extreme southern part of the Maluti/Drakensberg mountains with snow-capped peaks.

There is no way I could not take a snaps of this majestic mountain scene. All I was looking for was a rural slip road off the N2, that will take me as close to the mountain as possible.

Overcame by the beauty of the snow-capped peaks, I could not resist the urge to find the perfect vantage point. Abandoning the R56, I ventured down a rural gravel road at Popopo in Tsolobeng, chasing the perfect shot.

The tiredness melted away, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe as I took in the breathtaking landscape. I did not care about the remaining 400kms or so that I still had to travel. I wanted that perfect location for a photo opportunity, even if I finish all the remaining fuel in the tank, searching for the ideal location.

Three kilometres into this gravel road, is where I found an open space, with only the mountain view, nothing else. ?

Apart from photographing the Ranger and the snow-capped mountain peaks, I took close to an hour just being in the time and space.

Satisfied with photoshoot and grinning from ear to ear, I got back onto the R56 to Matata-aiele. It was a stock standard drive to Matat’ through to Cedarville and reached Kokstad by late mid-morning.

The R56 had been so good to me, but I had to bid farewell to it as I took a left turn onto the R617 to take me to Underberg, Bulwer, Boston and eventually to Howick…225km later.

Reaching a nice descend at Kingcote, a few scenic hills on the east indicated that I am close to the foot of the uKhahlamba mountains. From Hartlea, the Garden Castle peaks came into sight and continued to do so for forty kilometres to Underberg.

Arriving in the town on the foot of the mountain long after midday, the CBD was less busy than I initially anticipated. A second regret moment on the journey hit me. It would have been more worthwhile to take a right turn off the R617, eight kilometres prior to the Gardens turnoff. I would have navigated my way on the outskirts of Underberg, passing Coleford Nature Reserve, crossing uMzimkhulu river, and rejoining the R617 five kilometres south of the town.

Checking my fuel reading. Surprisingly, I still have plenty of it left. I knew I would make it to Durban with no problems. I still had a whole three bars, which translated to an entire quarter of the tank, roughly 26liters of diesel.

Also, according to the fuel range calculation, it read 463 km to empty. Furthermore, my fuel usage improved from 6.8l/100km to 6.6l/100km over the last 150kilometres or so.

Mathematics and Physics aside! All I wanted was a good cup of cappuccino or coffee down the hill in Boston. Off I went, descending to Bulwer and a straight pass to Boston. Call it hallucination or what, but I could already taste that cappuccino in my mouth.

Woohoo! Boston! Yes! air-punch I am here!

As I pulled into the parking lot and headed to the coffee shop, I was eager. I could not even wait for the automatic door to open fully. I walked in sideways.

Quickly getting the pleasant greetings out of the way with the lady behind the till. I placed my order of a medium cappuccino and a giant cookie. Those cookies in the glass jar next to the till, will change your life. Trust me. ?

She asks if I am paying by cash or card. Well, I do not carry cash at all. It is going to be a card, I said. “Sorry boetie. The network is faulty today. It would be better if you had cash” she responded.

What? No! How? Why? Since when?

I do not remember if I greeted her goodbye or walked away in disappointment. If I did not greet goodbye, forgive me dear sisi. I was just frustrated by the network.

900 kilometres on the road! Fourteen hours of driving! Three litres of water down my throat! A pack of chips I gobbled! Streetwise! Erratic sleeping sessions! Altitude tiredness and an unplanned photoshoot of the mountain, which turned out very well!

I was really looking forward to that cuppa, especially since the last time I had it, was May 2023.

Filled to the bream with disappointment, I trekked downhill to Howick. I left the R617 and joined the N3 southbound to Durban.

With no further drama and sober of caffeine, I eventually arrived at home in Durban. 1117.3km since I left Colchester in Gqeberha, the previous afternoon. A total driving time of 16h56mins through the coast, mountains and back to the coast again and two provinces later.?

With no intent to make you throw up, but spending over 24 hours in the cabin, one cannot help but smell ripe. So, after a good shower, a hot meal, and my own coffee at home. I started playing back the journey in my mind.

The most unbelievable part is that, I did this entire return leg on ONE tank(80l) of fuel. Interestingly, according to the Fuel Range calculation, I still had another 160km to go before the tank was to run dry.

I could have travelled over 1200km on that single tank. The Eco drive mode lived up to its name and Cruise Control made things more comfortable and less labour intensive. The mountain passes in the northern part of Eastern Cape were gruelling, as they directly affect fuel economy, depending whether you have a heavy foot or not.

I will plan better in the future. ?It will not be a spur of the “strong decision” moment, laden by frustrations of the routine N2 “road maintenance”.

Great drive. Now I must do it again during the day, to afford myself better photo opportunities.

?