MOTORBIKING
Words: Dave Griffin | Photos: Gary Lipchick
Bucket
ListS &
bike dreams
Part 1 www.doitnow.co.za • 1
2 • DO IT NOW Magazine | #30
As with many important decisions in life, this
one started in a bar surrounded by fellow biking friends chatting about our bucket lists and pipe dreams.
Being fanatic KTM fans, the idea of visiting a KTM factory was the perfect starting point. Austria it was. And what was synonymous with the Red Bull Hanger 7? The Red Bull Rodeo / Erzberg Rodeo, a must see. Seeing as we were going to be there, we’d also do a quick hop over the continent to the TT Isle of Man, to support fellow South African and good friend AJ Venter, who was competing in the Isle of Man, the mother of all time trials. It would be the patriotic thing to do, of course. So it began; the bucket list of note, the dreams of so many being realised over the bar counter, and with the trip practically running through our minds, we set the tour in motion!
Roll on the following morning and with a misty mind I set the plan before TMT (Tour Master Teresa), who was
looking slightly perplexed as she absorbed the key points and retreated to her office to work out the logistics. Being
of a practical nature, I assume that anything I put forward is possible and that there is always a way. Apparently, the universe disagrees and it usually teases me with silly incompatibilities. One such challenge was the 24-hour flight from Salzburg to the TT (it should only have been 3 hours). This just didn’t seem practical and drastically reduced our tour time. A few other challenges to overcome were trying to accommodate 15 people in one location, central to all the events, not to mention car hire and bike transport, then visas, and the list goes on and on. TMT put up with my persistence and our tour was finally possible. We would fly into Frankfurt, link to Salzburg, where we would collect two vans big enough for our entire luggage and 15 people, then collect five bikes from KTM and head towards Schladming, as it was central to Salzburg, KTM head quarters and Erzberg. Well, the proof is in the pudding or so they say. The days seemed to drag on as if time had nowhere to be. Each week, we’d chat and send out emails and updates of the planning at the events, who was riding, how the teams were doing, and expected changes. This all just added to the fuel feeding the fire inside to be at the events in person. Departure day arrived not a moment too soon. We had Martin and Brian Haremse fly up from East London, along with Brian Ellis, Gavin Dahms, and Renn Holtzhausen from Cape Town. They all came through to RAD, where we chatted eagerly and made some final preparations. Jaco Labuschagne travelled down from Louis Trichardt, while the others met us at the airport for a 6 p.m. check in. Like naughty teenagers boarding the school bus ready for veld school, chirps were aired and hearty giggles filled the terminal, as bags were shuffled and plenty of sweet talking saw us all loaded and heading through to Duty Free. As we settled down for a beer at the pub, I took a moment to soak in the complexity of it all, the diverseness of the people on the tour itself, and the reality that it would take some pretty smooth operating to make a success of it all.
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As luck would have it, most of us were spread in rows of two, three, and four across the Airbus. Could you even begin to imagine 15 rowdy fellows starting to ‘kuier’ on the pretty full plane ... met eish ja! Being spread out also allowed each group to meet and chat with each other and kind of get a feel for the person on tour and break the ice, so to say. The flight itself was mostly uneventful because shortly after dinner, my mind shut down and I woke in an attempted foetal position, staring into Martin’s comatose face. Pleasant was not a word that sprung to mind. Shmeegal (Glen Eve), being the shortest member of our tour, slept as if spread across a king sized, extra-length bed, totally oblivious to the cramp and pain we were enduring. In fact, he slept so well that he managed to forget his helmet on board and had to chase down the plane to get it back (some may argue that he couldn’t reach into the overhead compartment). Breakfast in Frankfurt was an education in itself, as it would seem that the locals start their day with a beer and bagel. This clearly was the wrong impression to promote to my tour, as they all followed suit and indirectly set the pace for the trip. We had a short wait for our connecting flight to Salzburg, so we made use of the VIP change rooms (paraplegic toilets) to freshen up prior to boarding. No sooner had the wheels left the tarmac when Shmeegal came to the realisation that he had left BOTH, yes both, his cell phones at the airport. Although a problem initially, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise. On arrival in Salzburg, Glen Scott joined us from Malta. Glen needs special mention as he has a hot dog fetish that proved invaluable on our trip. We never went hungry because Glen could find a food stand in Siberia. He’d negotiate a bulk deal and demonstrate the right combination of sauce to hot dog; years of careful training had made him an expert in this field. Aside from this, he added such life to the group with his character and endless laughter. Our first call of duty in Salzburg was to collect our race vans … oops, I mean rental vans. Being a group of passionate motorcycle enthusiasts, it would not be right to be carted around in a vehicle with insufficient brand appeal. So we branded it with KTM stickers, which ‘informed’ the general public of our travel intentions. Then the two groups were split into the naughty and the very naughty. Our two pilots, Martin and Gary Lipchick, were both non drinkers, as they had natural personality. Again a blessing, as we had many kilometres to travel and operating a left-hand drive after a European breakfast could have ended in tears. I had the pleasure of driving to the KTM dealer in Salzburg, to collect our race bikes. We opted for five bikes, with the thought of five people riding over three days, thus giving each person a day to ride with a day spare for repeat customers. We decided to hire two 1190 Adventures, two water-cooled GSs, and a 690 Duke.
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Although there was much anticipation to ride when we arrived, it had started to pour with rain and there was some convincing required to encourage five riders to take to the puddles and streams while negotiating the right-hand driving road conditions. I quietly opted for the GS, as it has a huge screen and a whopping big motor hanging out. In my mind, I figured that it would offer the greatest protection from the rain and water. Although on paper I was correct, in principle I was soooo wrong. The engine pods acted as a drip feeder for my boots, which soon welled up with water. The screen became a suction device and pooled the now freezing water on the seat in front on me. If you’ve ever ridden in the rain, you’ll know that cold, miserable feeling of icy water creeping through the seams of your pants and slowly, oh so very slowly, cooling your nether regions. I would have been more comfortable if I were ice fishing naked in a blizzard.
A much-welcomed fuel stop, three quarters of the way to the hotel, saw five shivering South Africans looking incredibly touristy as we waited at the pump to be served. We soon realised that it’s the European service, aka E-service, self help, Sir! Nonetheless, we were full of blue-lipped smiles and eager to get to Schaldming.
Arriving at the hotel, we noticed a ski slope directly opposite and questions were raised as to the climbing ability of the motorbikes. This was quickly discouraged thankfully! Our hotel was amazing. We were dedicated to one wing with eight rooms, each room with two beds, TV, and shower, easily 4-star rated. As soon as everyone had settled in, it was a rush to the beer stand. It’s quite surprising how fast certain individuals can move when there’s an incentive involved, and after a long flight and horrible motorbike ride, the allure of fresh alcoholic refreshment sent some into a crazy Usain Bolt like sprint for the beer stand. Some were more hungry than thirsty and for them the hot dog stand became a close companion. After our refreshments, we walked through the seemingly sleeping town. Well, this was soon to change as we stumbled upon a sports bar, which was closed but made an exception for us. Sorry for them! It became like a shabeen on pay day. There were two pool tables hosting serious competitions and fines to match, a dart board, and a pinball machine all being operated by this jolly lot. Clearly we didn’t get the memo that the sun only sets at 10 p.m. or there about, as we carried on like there was no end to the day. At some point, the majority must have realised their hunger pains and requested dinner, thus prompting a mass exodus to the hotel in search of dinner. Now as much as I would like to divulge the inner dealings of the evening events, I cannot. You see there is a set rule, a hallowed rule that what goes on tour, stays on tour. This rule isn’t to mask, misguide or dilute any event or occurrence, it is a simple rule that means if you want to know, you have to go and do it yourself because only then will you understand the purpose of the rule. The next morning was the factory tour and we had to wake up early and head to the factory. With the ‘eventful’ night we had the previous night, waking up early was not exactly very welcome, but being the troopers we were, we did so and went to the factory. On the way to the factory, we stopped at a deli that served the best sausages anyone could ever imagine! And we thought the best way to down a traditional meat is a traditional beer. Beer and sausages were the order of the morning and with our belly’s filled and last glass drunk, we were in much better spirits. Arriving in Mattighofen, we decided to visit KTM’s Racing Division first, where we got to see and touch the Moto 3 bikes, Dakar bikes, and the world MX bikes. It was something so special! The workshop resembled a well-run kitchen; immaculate, well laid out, and so professional, and I can now easily see why KTM is a multiple world-title holder.
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From there we went to the factory retail store, where my tour turned into women and were stuck for hours, trying this on, checking that size, and “Do you like this colour?” “Does my bum look funny in this?” “Have you got these in XXL, but I'm busy losing weight.” And my favourite was can, “Can I buy that bag (100 L bag), as I need to carry all of this!” We then headed to the KTM assembly factory. Here the bare frames are loaded onto a pulley line and the frames move down along the assembly points metre by metre for 50 metres until they are rolled off and into a dyno / testing room. To see this is like watching your first-born coming to this world, it is amazing! Such care, attention to detail, precision work, and the final product of beauty ... ah man, so awesome! As if being dragged from the party of the century, we sadly had to leave the factory. However, the sadness soon dissipated as we made our way to one of the biggest attractions of the trip, the Red Bull Hangar. To paint the picture, it’s a glass-domed aircraft hanger that is easily four-stories high and filled with every conceivable Red Bull race or extreme sport vehicle any man’s dream world. Some World War 2 aircraft were also thrown into the mix, including the P83 Lightning, a B24, and F4 Corsair. All were clearly marked out with Red Bull decal kits and fully restored. After the hangar walk around, we decided we were thirsty and quenched our thirst with an expensive round of Red Bull mixed with a shot of transparent tasteless liquid, alcoholic of course.
From an awesome trip to the Red Bull hangar, it was time to prepare for the Erzberg Rodeo, a two-
hour drive from our home base at Schladming. Catch part 2 of ‘Bucket lists and bike dreams’ next week, as we descend on Erzberg and the Isle of Man. •
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READY FOR MY
Do not imitate the riding scenes shown, wear protective clothing and observe the traffic regulations! The illustrated vehicles may vary in minor details from the series model and some show optional equipment at additional cost.
Photos: R. Schedl, H. Mitterbauer
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