1000 KM’s in the saddle from JHB to Durban…
Story: Donovan Fourie
Well, not exactly Jo’burg – more like Red Star Raceway, which is a small gap between a thumb
and forefinger away from Jo’burg on a big map. And not quite Durban, but Zinkwazi, another
finger’s gap north of the city. All achieved over three days of riding, with roughly 80% on dirt —
well, dirt, mud, and, on one occasion, open water. The little Suz did everything, all in aid of the
Get Lost Adventure.
Glenn and his crew at The Adventure Company have been arranging events for more than 20
years. One of their most famous was the Quads4Quads ride, where at times more than a
thousand people on dirt bikes, quads, and everything in between rode in a jovial procession
from Jo’burg to Durban, raising stacks of cash for quadriplegics.
Covid drove a nail into that event’s coffin, much like it did with so many others. But as the adage
goes, when one door closes, another opens.
This new door follows much the same principle as Quads4Quads, but with adventure motorcycles, and has been fittingly dubbed The Get Lost Adventure.
Like its predecessor, it will raise funds — this time for the Remme Los Home in Germiston, which supports people with disabilities.
The event takes place over the long weekend of 7 August, but before releasing crowds of
adventure machines into the wilderness, the route needed to be recce’d.
Step forward ten brave souls who arrived at Red Star ready to ride into the unknown for the greater glory of Get Lost.
We had Herman and Eldin aboard mighty KTM 1290 Super Adventures, Glenn on his newly
rebuilt Triumph Tiger 800, Tristan on a stylish Husqvarna 650, our resident Englishman Neil on a rented Transalp 650 from Italmoto, and Marc Menezes on a rather lovely old Kawasaki KLE500.
Everyone had all the gear, all the equipment, and all the experience. Except me.
I had a backpack with a couple of Insta360 mounts and a brand-new Suzuki 250 SX V-Strom that had just left the PDI station — as green as Jo’burg’s flooded meadows.
This bike is literally half the size of the next biggest machine in the group, and as everyone
knows, if you’re not on a big, fast bike, you’ll fall behind and become a burden to the rest of the
group.
Or will you? We had three days to find out.
Thus, on an icy Friday morning in May, we sauntered out of Red Star Raceway and onto our first dirt road.
Well… we say “dirt”.
The actual event takes place in August, a month that is famously chilly but bone dry. What lay
before us, therefore, was a rather terrible representation of things to come. Instead of smooth
gravel, we were greeted with greasy snot — the by-product of days of solid rain that had preceded our departure.
I watched with horror as the bikes ahead squirmed, slipped, and swayed uncontrollably. Their
riders crawled along with both feet out, terrified their machines would wash away beneath them.
Puddles were a problem — some more than others. One in particular looked more like a
medium-sized pond. We ventured in, watching the waterline climb ever higher up the bikes. The
little V-Strom, by some margin the shortest in the group, submerged almost up to my knees. I
was certain it would swallow a lungful of water and come to a terminal halt.
Unbelievably, we all made it through and could resume our duties of slipping and sliding in the
mud. Mr Menezes’s KLE caught the wrong piece of sludge and suddenly veered toward a
neighbouring farm fence. Glenn on the Triumph found himself following a path dictated by the
mud rather than his handlebars, as did Neil on the Transalp. All the big bikes seemed to have a
mud-fuelled mind of their own. But not the little V-Strom.
I watched in amazement as everyone around me wrestled their machines, while mine stayed straight and true.
The V-Strom’s standard tyres are commendable but certainly no better than what everyone else
had fitted. Maybe it was less affected because it’s lighter, or maybe its thinner tyres sliced
through the mud instead of floating on top. Whatever the reason, I made sure my exhausted
companions knew what a jolly good time I was having every time we stopped.
That evening we stayed in Newcastle, the third-largest city in KZN. We were joyfully greeted the
next morning by blue skies and a blazing sun. We started the day on tar, which soon led to the
charming Buffalo Bridge, standing since the 1800s.
Tar soon turned to dirt — glorious, wide dirt roads traversing the approaching Drakensberg
Mountains. They were fast and flowing, and here I found myself envying the gents on their 1290
KTMs. These roads are exactly what those powerful machines were built for. Yet I was still
having a glorious time on my little V-Strom.
While I might have envied the 1290s, I had yet to fall behind. If anything, the mud on the first
day meant I was often waiting for the bigger bikes. Even on open, dry dirt, very few riders dared
stray north of 80 or 100 km/h — a speed the little 250 handled without strain.
We stopped for a gander at the mighty Zaaihoek Dam wall before enjoying coffee in
Mpumalanga’s oldest town, Wakkerstroom.
The afternoon saw the roads become narrower and more technical as we plunged deeper into
the Drakensberg. Here, the little V-Strom thrived — dodging holes, ducking through bends, and
gliding gleefully through the terrain. Every corner revealed a new discovery. It was joyous to ride
and wonderful to behold.
The last part of the day descended towards Ulundi, the former capital of the Zulu Kingdom. The
route followed a glorious route where mostly towered above us were a series of arched bridges.
I’ll admit this was my first experience with this corner of the country, and until then I had no idea
we had bridges of such magnitude. The surrounding topography rose and fell like a stormy sea
of rock, but feats of engineering kept the tracks level and true.
The route we followed enjoyed no such luxury — much to our delight — as we
rose, dipped, and swerved our sandy way to our overnight stop in Ulundi.
The next morning we travelled along narrow trails into the heart of Zululand. One thing became
abundantly clear: Just how mountainous this country is.
We had started traversing mountains shortly after leaving Newcastle, and hours into the third day we were still in them. Topography maps do them little justice.
Day three was the slowest of the three, as little roads meandered through small towns and hills.
It was another day of glorious sights and views, and the charm showed no sign of waning.
Eventually, we took a small side quest to a communications tower atop a hill, and it was there
that we saw the ocean for the first time.
The final leg took us into the famous KZN cane fields, following farm roads that formed gaps
between thickets of sugar cane.
The KZN province has very little flat terrain. If anything is smooth, it’s most likely vertical.
That afternoon we idled into the town of Zinkwazi and found a parking spot right against the
beach. That night we revelled at the beach bar, looking back on three days of adventure and
fun.
The original question was:
Can the little Suzuki 250 SX V-Strom complete a three-day long-
distance adventure with bigger bikes without being a burden? The answer, wholeheartedly, is yes. It certainly can.
The mud saw it behave better than its larger companions, and most of the rest of the ride
involved smaller roads where larger bikes couldn’t be opened up. In those sections, if anything,
the little V-Strom was quicker.
That leaves the more questionable sections — the big gravel roads and stretches of tar. The V-
Strom’s 250cc single-cylinder, liquid-cooled motor produces 26 hp and 22 Nm. Top speed in
favourable conditions is around 150 km/h.
While the bigger bikes are certainly capable of running away, they very rarely do. Most riders,
especially on dirt, prefer not to exceed 100 km/h. On tar, most stick close to the speed limit. The
little V-Strom handles these conditions with ease.
If there is a sore spot, it’s the suspension, which is somewhat basic. It works well on tar and
smooth-ish dirt, but on harsh roads with consecutive bumps and holes, it eventually gets
overwhelmed. After a day it’s fine. After two days, still okay. On the third day, my rear started
politely saying, “I’m terribly sorry, but…”
This is a mild criticism, but not a dealbreaker — especially when you consider that high-end
suspension is possibly the single largest cost on a motorcycle. As it stands, the 250 SX V-Strom
costs R62,000, which represents some of the best value for money in motorcycling. Better
suspension would no doubt push that figure beyond R100,000.
No thanks. Leave my little V-Strom exactly as it is.
See you all on the Get Lost Adventure in August.
