It was just the other day, where I was out there again on my own. I was bundu-bashing for a reason this time. I was also having trouble walking or I would have gone on foot, because I'd recently fallen over and sprained my ankle so badly, it took over six months to heal and still niggles me.
Bear had come home head held high, the previous day, with a butchered kudu leg in his mouth. I was horrified. These assholes were poaching on my plot again, and I was in a royal rage. I'd found snares on the plot before, for kudu and warthog. I hated it.
So, with this in mind, and a wonky ankle, I had taken the bike and gone looking for snares or a butchered kudu. I was proper bundu-bashing, off the road, wherever I could go. Right on front of the house, just over the road we were industriously building, there is yet again a steep downhill into a valley. Bear had come from that general area, but it was really rough, so I was struggling on the bike.
I'd gone off our little bike road to the right, and had investigated as much as I could. I'd walked a few steps, as far as possible, to see if I could smell or spot anything. I then had to make my way back to the very steep, slippery road, to head further down.
Of course, I got to a very rough spot, and decided that instead of tackling it on the bike, what I would do is walk next to it, and just clutch in so it would roll forward. I would be out of the way if it flipped, and not break myself again.
I got over the first part. I then got semi-stuck under a tree, as usual, but managed to get out of it successfully. We were almost at the road, and I thought right, I just need a few more steps and I would be able to get back on and take it down.
Well, I clutched in and it rolled down the incline. I let the clutch go, thinking it would stop, but by this time it was already on the mess of small rocks and on the bad incline. The wheels locked and it slid. With eyes nearly falling out of my head, I just stood there and watched it. I had learnt my lesson, and wasn't about to go try grab it, as I probably would have done previously.
It stopped about two meters down, but now it was off the road on the opposite side. With my nerves on edge, I tried again to clutch it and turn the wheels back to the road. Well - bad move. This time, I sat down and watched it as it slid down the rest of the mountain, gaining speed, and hit a tree. Always a damn tree.
I sat there for a while longer, eyeing this situation out. I had no signal on my phone, my ankle was sore already from walking, and I was no closer to finding the bloody kudu.
Eventually, I slid down the hill myself, and looked at the situation up close. We have very small trees on the plot, due to lack of water and rocky conditions. The bike had slid straight into one of the bigger ones, that had found less rocky soil, and was close to the "riverbed" at the bottom in the valley. It was deeply immersed in the evergreen branches, while all the other trees around it were dead and had no leaves.
Fighting off branches and tickling leaves, I got on, and tried to reverse it out - no luck, it just spun. I tried slow and steady, and then just planted it, kicking up loads of dust and stones. No luck. I sighed. Seriously. Always a tree. I tried picking up the back and shifting it, but it was so deep in the tree, I expected that more turning would have it rolling down the mountain again. I gave up.
I made my way back up the mountain on foot, losing my footing once and landing hard on my knee. I brushed off and kept going, looking for signal. I got hold of Pio, and then sat waiting, trying to find my dogs and bring them back together. Bless them, they'd watched all of this with cocked heads and a laugh in their eyes, before buggering off to sniff things.
It took Pio ages to come rescue me. I wandered around, trying again to spot the poor kudu. I fell over again, not fully twisting the bloody ankle but twinging it. I eventually gave up, sat under a tree nursing my wounds, and waited. Kita sat with me, bless her.
When he eventually got to us, it took some tugging and wangling, trimming the tree back slightly, and then he got it out. Typical. I hated needing a mans help, as I always got laughed at.
He took it back up the mountain, and I had to walk, on wonky foot and knee. More bruises and scratches to add to my collection.
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