The charge must be lead and we are the willing.

Today rounds out the week and tomorrow is another day of work at the farm. But luckily our batteries are recharged and ready to go. We have just returned from our first weekend motorcycle trip. We had decided to name the bike Tito (thanks to Lutz). It also has another name, Tonto. We haven't settled for a final decision yet. But first things first, which was the visit from the folks.

Dale and Jeanne came in Thursday night and we went up to their B&B to meet them Friday morning. We, of course, rode up on our sparkling new BMW and had a hearty breakfast before heading out for some wine tasting. It was a mixed success. Beyerskloof and Meerlust were real winners while Luisenhof and Waterford were not. The lunch at the Pomograte at Vergenoegd was absolutly spectacular.

The next day we worked the Real Slow Food Market, sold some strawberry vinegar and tasted some delicious microbrew called Jack Black, no relation to the actor. Then it was off for some more tastings at Uitkyk (pronounced 'eight-cake') and Muratie. The Muratie cellar was the perfect tasting you could possibly dream of. The walls were coated in cobwebs and dust, the wine was absolutely delicious and the final kicker was that we were able to talk with the owner of the estate for about a half hour and see what he was thinking. Fantastic. Then the icing on the cake was they were selling magnums of 2001 Cabernet Sauvignon for less than $15. That is a steal. We finished off the day with a modern fusion restaurant named Umami with service, style and taste that were impeccable.

Erin had a hayday with all the small plates, dishes and spoons. Apparently, it was just 'so cute'.

Sunday was spent in Cape Town, where we went to an Anglican service and listened to scriptures read in Xhosa, the local language with all the clicks.

Lunch and shopping at the waterfront, then off to dinner with Dale's old friend Roger. Roger's son Adam stopped in later in the evening and he's promised we'll head to a cricket match before we leave. Should be interesting. Monday was Franschhoek day, including breakfast at the Hillcrest Berry Farm and tastings at Boschendal and Graham Beck. The latter was a gem that surprised us all. Ultra-modern and clean, a real showcase of a winery that just makes fabulous wine. Erin and I will be heading back to take a master tasting with them, just to make sure we round out the experience with the full monty. A noteworthy lunch at the Petite Ferme, some shopping in town, dinner at the Haute Cabriere, and that's all she wrote. The weekend was already over, but it was a great one.

The following week was fairly uneventful, we took the bike out a few times for a spin, but nothing more, really. That brings us to this weekend, finally. We were talking about where to head for our first weekend out on Tito and had decided on L'Agulhas, the southernmost tip of Africa. However, the week before brought in the worst floods in 100 year, so that nicked our plans and we decided to go west instead of east. We left Stellenbosch around 10am and headed north. Once we got a little bit outside of town, there was no traffic, leaving the entire road to us.

Miles and miles of wheat fields laid an yellow foreground to black Table Mountain and crystal blue sky. Couldn't have asked for a more beautiful ride.

We were planning on stopping halfway in Atlantis, but driving through the town made us realize that in South Africa, there are towns that are traditionally white and there those that are historically black. The black towns tend to be much more poor and lacking in coffee shops to rest at. It's difficult to see such a separation of rich and poor in so close an area, stemming from the aparteid era whose effects are still very prominent in the country. The more we talk with the afrikaans and become familiar with their culture, the more complicated the situation here becomes. So we pushed through Atlantis and headed straight up to Langebaan, where we stopped at the Pancakes Galore for some coffee and a plate of chips. The beach was beautiful, with a whole host of kite-surfers plying the wind with grace or often without. Watching people connected to a giant kite faceplant into the water provides great entertainment, in case you were wondering. We drove up to Saldanha and found ourselves in a circuitous maze to find the hostel, which we successfully navigated after several calls to the establishment. Then, we walked around the small town, realized that nothing was open except one bar watching the SA/Scotland rugby match. That is an environment Erin and I are quite familiar with and we fit in like locals. Locals that don't watch rugby or speak afrikaans and speak with a telling american accent, that is. They didn't seem to hold it against us, though, and we spent the night chatting up a storm with anyone within earshot. Pizza for dinner, a few more rounds, and off to bed.

The next morning was a bit of a struggle, including a nap after breakfast, but we rallied and took off on the bike to return home. Less than an hour into the ride, we ran out of gas. We had passed a few gas stations on the way, but neither of us thought it would be an issue. It was, almost. We switched on the reserve tank and prayed hard. We made it to the West Coast National Park entrance, hoping they would be of assistance. They were not. So we hopped back on and made up our minds to simply go as far as possible, then walk or hitch the rest of the way to the gas station. We pulled into the gas station as the engine was dying. Perfect. It turns out, luckily, that Yzerfontein is pretty much like Naples, Florida.

A cute beach town resort with a coffee shop overlooking the bay where the whales were playing. Ho hum. Just another whale in a beautiful blue sea off a perfect white sand beach. The turn off certainly turned out in our favor as we sat and watched the waves roll in.

From Yzerfontein we headed back toward Stellenbosch, planning on stopping in the tiny hamlet of Philadelphia which we had passed on the journey out. Not knowing what to expect, we turn into a town of less than 500 people, thinking we'll just pop down on a bench and eat the german rye and camembert that we had stashed earlier. But wait, here's a coffee shop called the Pepper Tree. With an art gallery. And a pottery shop. And a jewelery shop. And two classical guitarists spreading the air of calm beauty beneath a large tree providing shade to all. I must say, the chocolate cake and the carrot cake were superb. It is a rough life to lead, I know, but the charge must be lead and we are the willing.

We returned home to park the bike, kick off our shoes, toss our riding helmets, jackets, and gloves, and embrace the sublime peace of another South African sunset. And let me tell you, sunset number 105 was a good one.