Feeling elevated and inspired from our ventures to the Fish River Canyon, we raced north along smooth gravel track toward a dot on the map labeled Seeheim. We had aspirations of a big mile day, but the views, desert flora and fauna necessitated numerous stops to soak it all in.

Can you spot the Kudu?

We ultimately arrived at a dirt road junction, where, after some debating, we resolved to take the road less traveled (big surprise😊). This decision would ultimately seal our fate for the next 10 days.

It was a classic case of the “adventure shortcut,” which is of course often not a short cut at all, but lends itself well to new experiences. We chose an F road, which we would later learn, means that it has long since escaped the blade of a road grater and has begun its gradual submission to nature. Although a bit sandy, washed out in places and loaded with some world class washboard, it was a wide open track and totally doable. It should have been well within the scope of our adventure bikes.

It was, initially, great fun, just enough challenges to keep you up on your pegs and dialed in over sandy stretches, wash out and enjoyable humps and bumps. Then came the washboard, serious wash board, stretching from one side of the road to the other. I’m sure I’ve seen washboard this bad before, but I can’t remember where or when.

This is where I noticed my shock starting to bottom out, which alarmed me, as I hadn’t put it through any serious trauma yet and it’s the beefiest shock on the market. The bottoming out sensation was soft and I pushed on, hoping it was just a combination of some wash out and washboard that the shock rebound struggled to keep up with…one can only hope and remain optimistic. I don’t know of any technology that can make 4” deep washboard comfortable. Then came some creepy lurching and chain slippage from the drive system. I glanced back at my swing arm and my heart sank as I saw the telltale sign of fluid splashed over my chain guard.

So, there we were with a broken shock. I’d worn shocks out before, even crushed a shock oil line before, but in 10 years of adventure riding, I’d never seen one drop its lower section and spill all its fluids. The irony was not lost on me that this newly installed custom shock was supposedly the toughest on the market and I’d blown it out within the first week of our journey. Frustration is an understatement here. The ride out of the desert was pretty tough as I couldn’t keep my speed up to ride over the sand sections. There was lots of foot paddling as I desperately maneuvered to keep my tread from sinking in the rear wheel.

Ultimately, we rode 350 miles to nearest logistics point where I could sort things out. Needless to say, with a broken rear shock, this was not a pleasant ride, but we made it and Windhoek would become our home.

The only guy, who could work shocks in town, took one look at mine and said I should immediately warranty it. He had actually never seen a shock failure that severe and he didn’t want to touch it. I was hoping for a quick fix, but it looked like a full shock replacement was in the cards.

Touratech USA did offer to replace my shock, but would not send it to me. Fortunately, I have Bret! A very cool biker relative of mine in Seattle that was kind enough to go to Touratech, pick up the shock and sort out shipping for me (no easy task).

I just erased a page of emotionally charged ranting over how I feel about the Touratech shipping policy. No one wants to read that. On a positive note, I do want to point out that Touratech USA had a replacement shock built for me within 6 hours. Props for that!

So, we live in Windhoek now. The shock has been here for days, but is locked up in customs. The very sweet Fedex lady gives us the “it should be here today, or maybe tomorrow, or sometime,” every time we show up to check on the progress. It is frustrating, but I realize my desire to ride again does not constitute an emergency on anyone else’s part.

We are, however, making the most of our time. See next post. 😊