Johannesburg (Part 1) - It's the fame about Ray

Does this fit with your image of Johannesburg?

At Cycle Technology t/a Cytech & Tours For Africa, there is a huge warehouse full of kit for the aspiring overlander motorcyclist.  Ray Muller has years of experience, and his cheery seen-it-all-done-it-all pedigree gives his words weight.  He and I went over my bike carefully, discussing what needed attention.  Honesty in a mechanic is so very welcome, and Ray is great at telling me where I can save money, where to spend it best, and when to press the warranty button.

For example, regarding new rubber, we opted to change my current tyre set up for a brand I'd used before (Michelin Anakee II).  They have a softer side wall - enabling me to do a solo roadside fit in an emergency using the inner tube I carry.  I'll compromise some off-road capability in return for greater mileage: these should see me back to Europe, he reckons, and I believe him.

Ray and his wife (right) and son (back)

We agreed to check the final drive components and oil, change the worn-out brake pads, try to fix the side stand, relocate the spot lights.  But otherwise, as you expect this late in the game, the bike is well equipped with the modifications or replacements that Ray would have recommended.

We left his two guys busy, enabling me to listen attentively to Ray's recommended routes, tips and tricks for the challenges to come.  He's a seam of gold as far as this is concerned - and so generous.

As advised, I later popped the bike into BMW for warranty work on a slight oil leak.  It's the work BMW did for me in Buenos Aires, which is annoying.  Still, being positive, I'm told the leak indicates merely a an 'o' ring that should have had a revised torque setting applied.  If the oil had been leaking into the clutch system then nasty things would follow.  Here's hoping I'm trouble free on that front.

A couple of days later, Ray is on the mark again - sending me by courier an item I forgot to ask for.  Ever efficient and understanding, he makes it seem like nothing is too much trouble.  He's a champ, that Ray.

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Aside from it's motorbike shops, Johannesburg doesn't excite in me much desire to explore what's on offer.  At least, not when I first arrive.  A city of eight million people, it's the economic engine of South Africa.  However, it's still a young city (gold was discovered here in 1886 - the rush followed), and has neither grand government institutions (that's Pretoria, an hour north), nor the natural beauty of Cape Town or Durban.  So, it's never high on the list of 'must visit' places recommended by the people I've met.  

The reputation for muggings and car-jacking doesn't help, but the danger is confined mostly to well known areas, such as the densely populated Hillbrow, Berea or Joubert Park.  (I'd love to have taken the solo Hillbrow tour a local police officer provides.)  That applies to any sizeable city, too, mind.  In fact, I soon feel comfortable with being here and the more I learn, the more I realise Jo'burg's fearsome reputation is overdone.  Indeed, during the 2010 Football World Cup several hundred thousand foreign football fans visited the city, with not a single noteworthy incident recorded.  Which is comforting.  Still, there's nothing like ignorance to turn circumspection into paranoia.

Beyond sensible precautions you don't need to panic here.  There's no one scurrying across the road in fear, no gangs on street corners, no blare of sirens as the emergency services rush about the city.  No gun shots.  No stabbings.  Not here, not where I am.

Things are quiet and the cars flow without too much trouble around the network of highways and the smooth suburban surrounds.  From any vantage point you can appreciate what a green, well-tree'd city this is.  And, when I do lose my route, everyone is friendly and I'm pointed in the correct direction.  Not that I was so cheerful as dusk fell, I admit.

In a repeat of the rest of South Africa, the contrast here between the rich and poor is very obvious.  There are opulent 'Randlord' mansion houses - built by the rich mine owners - and flashy cars, scores of malls stocked with the latest high end retail brands, boutique shops and luxury goods.  The northern suburbs are full of gated communities, where the material wealth is stored, preserved and flaunted in the same manner as Hong Kong, London, Sydney or New York.  In the international game of keeping-up-with-the-Jones', the flashy folk of Johannesburg - white, black, coloured - lose nothing by comparison.

Yet, there must be more to this city than rich folks steadily piling up wealth and spending time at the club.  It's impersonal here in West Dunkeld, and it's cold too. At 1,753m altitude, the night time temperatures drop so that by day, despite the sunshine, the air is chilly.  Maybe this explains my initial reluctance to get out and about?  More by habit than choice I put my name down for a day trip.  I want to see something beyond the bland area my initial hostel choice has given me. 

It's time for me to go to Soweto - for many, the beating heart of South Africa.