After being in South Africa for almost a week, today I got to ride the new F800GS as a representative of the BMW Owners News.

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We were encouraged to split off into small groups on our own as they were not providing guides which was just fine with me. The bikes were equipped with the Navigator III loaded with waypoints and routes making it hard to get lost and easy to find your way if you do, assuming you know how to use the unit. I have never been to a press launch and was unprepared for the amount of time you spend riding back and forth for the cameras so when we were all done with the photos I was ready to have some fun with somebody else's motorcycle and find out what the new GS is all about.

When everybody took off I hung back a bit; if I am going to be in a group ride I prefer to either lead or sweep and with this group it is fun to hang back and watch. I misjudged how far out they were and in my lust, zeal and full on Ritalin moment went something like 30 km past the turnout for the picnic by the lake.

This really didn't bother me other than the fact that the BMW folks strongly advised against riding alone and many of the places we have visited had me sign a release that states my heirs won't sue if I get eaten by lion, stomped by a rhino or attacked by a baboon which apparently happened to a leading journalist last time they were here.

Because I had a GPS I wasn't overly concerned and didn't figure out I was "lost" until I hit a dirt section and couldn't find any tracks. BMW provided us with a wonderful road book but without a tank bag and the fact that it was too big to fit in a pocket made it not much more than a nice souvenir. I stopped to check the book and figured out I had passed lunch.

I didn't want anyone to worry so I called and left a voice mail for Roy Oliemuller, the U.S. communications czar for BMW Motorrad, so nobody would freak while I poked around trying to backtrack. Silly me for assuming that with all the waypoints in the box one would be obvious as a lunch stop but considering where I was and what I was on my only concerns were BMW getting freaked out that I was "missing" and that whole getting eaten thing.

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After a while I stopped, chatted with a bunch of locals waiting for a taxi / bus and called the BMW contact number we had in our route book. All I wanted to know was how far ahead of the group I was; if not too far I was happy to hang out in the shade and wait. While the folks I called were incredibly gracious we were separated by a common language and I told them I was ok, happy as a clam and that I would continue on the "yellow brick road" as indicated by the pink line on the GPS. They then transferred me to their GPS expert who tried to tell me the waypoint for lunch but once again the language / cellular connection reared up to have me searching for a waypoint that was not in the GPS. I didn't want either of us to get frustrated; after doing my best to make sure the good folks at base knew I was happy, healthy and moving along the route I took off.

The surface was semi packed dirt that if it had been raining would have been like riding red clay. Being alone in the country far from help and even further from home had me being plenty cautious yet I still found myself sliding the back around, giggling like a school girl and thankful that I remembered to shut off the ABS.

After an hour or so of such extra curricular activities I was heading down the mountain when I came across an off camber decreasing radius right hander at a speed that was just a tad over prudent. I got totally loose and scrubbed off just about all my speed as I slid wide to the left but not enough speed to keep me out of the dirt drainage ditch which I dropped into like I meant to park there.

If I had been on my R12GSA I would have been truly screwed but with the F800 I was able to set about extracting a brand new press bike from the mud.

I had just about got the bike out when I heard another rider coming and I watched him do just about the same thing I did but in all fairness if I hadn't been flopping about in his line he wouldn't have stuffed it into the mud, but I was there and he had little options.

The rider dismounts, looks at me and I realize that it is Alan Carthcart (racer, writer, and living legend of motorcycling) which makes me feel like I just got caught sleeping through church by the Pope.

Fortunately Sir Alan was most gracious and we helped each other get our bikes out of the ditch. He asked my name and I asked him if I really had to tell him; it was one of those moments when I thought a tinted visor and an unmarked set of gear would be just the thing.

Needless to say I didn't feel it was the best way to introduce myself to a legend.

The next thing I heard was "well then let's ride together" and we spent the next hour or so riding pavement and dirt back to the resort. Thank you for being so gracious.

Someday I'll never be able to ride like that.
 

NOTE: Rob Nye is in South Africa for the BMW Owners News. The full review will be in the April issue, and on this Web site.