Hydrolocked: The Day Putin Drank Too Much Rain

Yoh, if we thought we had seen rain, we were wrong! After getting back from the market, the heavens opened up, and it rained all night. We’re talking buckets of water mixed with serious wind. We decided we could afford to start a bit later and planned to leave around 9 am.

We got packed up—a challenge since Putin wasn’t tucked away under a roof, so we had to make use of the short breaks in between downpours. Ready to roll, I mounted up and gave the kick start a go. CLACK!. Seems like the motor was locked solid. It didn’t immediately click, but then the lightbulb went on: Hydrolock. I noticed that water had seeped in everywhere, even into the boot, which was unusual. Since we hadn’t driven through a river, the water must have seeped in via the intakes.

Nothing like having issues in the pouring rain

I needed Putin unlocked, stat. Then I did the worst possible thing, but desperate times, hey? I turned the throttle wide open and cranked the engine using both the starter and the kickstart. Luckily, the water wasn’t too much, and Putin sputtered to life, though it was clear there was water mixing with the fuel. FYI, the correct way to handle a hydrolock is to remove the plugs and crank the motor to expel any water, but if you have your sparkplug spanner right at the bottom of the trunk, and it is raining, which means you have to unpack everything in the rain, the brain takes shortcuts.

Plan A & B: The Downhill Dash

Our mission was simple: hit the petrol station, drain the fuel, and pray. At least it was downhill all the way, so even if we couldn’t gain revs, we were moving. On the way, we even stopped to grab breakfast and an umbrella, just in case I needed to do roadside mechanical magic.

At the station, I drained both float bowls. Putin was still spluttering, but at least now we could pick up some decent revs, meaning we could ride through the rest of the issue. Meanwhile, the rain was determined to keep falling.

Draining the bowls

The éasy’ way to get to the left float bowl

Our route through Magoebaskloof to Modjadjiskloof was stunning, once you could actually see it. Visibility was shocking due to the combination of heavy rain and thick mist. Things only cleared up after we passed Tzaneen.

The Three-Wheeled Celebrity

About 100km in, Putin started sputtering again. I checked the fuel filter, and it was running dry—usually a sign to switch to reserve. But 100km? That seemed way too soon. While I pulled over to fill up from the jerry cans, an SUV pulled a U-turn just to chat. The normal person would think they are going to get robbed, but this is fairly standard if you ride a Ural. It’s actually got a name – Ural Delay Factor or UDF. The driver waved us down and declared to his wife, “I told you it has 3 wheels!” Apparently, his wife hadn’t believed that a three-wheeled vehicle was even legal on public roads. He was chuffed to prove her wrong with some real-life evidence.

Putin not only fascinates wives in SUVs

I did some quick calculations and realised we weren’t suddenly using more fuel; we just ran out when the tank was only three-quarters empty. It seems the two halves of the fuel tank are no longer playing nicely—maybe there is a blockage in the linking line. Something to check tomorrow, but for now, we were operating on a smaller tank range.

What would the answer be?

We grabbed some lunch just before Elim, where a nearby church pastor was clearly “on fire”—you could hear him for miles! Elim is a weird little village with nothing going on except for a huge ‘hospital’ sign you cannot miss. After a final stop in Louis Trichardt for food and drinks, we were off to our home for the next three nights: Zvakanaka farm. This is fruit and but valley and is also on the main route to Zimbabwe via the Beitbridge border crossing. Its close proximity to Zimbabwe does, unfortunately, also mean that the locals suffer the consequences of an influx of illegal immigrants.

From Campsite to Castle

We stayed at Zvakanaka two years ago, but this time I’d smartly upgraded us from a campsite to a caravan. Good thing too; I clearly had a bit of foreboding about the weather.

I rode straight to our spot, only to find the caravan door locked. I phoned Gail, and her surprised response told me everything—it seems like our arrival was missed. She arrived in a jiffy, but the place hadn’t been cleaned since the last visitors left that morning.

Cue the silver lining! Gail, being very apologetic, offered us a massive upgrade. And what an upgrade it turned out to be! We landed an en suite bathroom, a fireplace, and two decks with stunning mountain views. The best part? Floor-to-ceiling glass on two sides, giving us a perfect view while lying in bed or chilling by the fire.

From this..
To this
Putin’s got his own space

Mandatory Chilling

The weather is not letting up; it’s overcast, misty, wet, and generally miserable. That is, if you don’t have a bottle of red wine and a fireplace! We definitely have both.

An indoor fireplace is not something normally associated with summer

We are staying put for the next two days, just chillin’. Lying around is mandatory, though we might attempt a walking trail if the weather improves. Since we definitely can’t fire up the braai (BBQ) in this weather, I made some pasta, which went down perfectly with the wine and the fireplace.

So, no fixed plans for tomorrow, just take it as it comes.