Johann Rissik RIP

[tubed]

Tribute to Johann Rissik

 

I got to know Johann through the Freedom Trail as well as The Hub, it soon became apparent (long before we actually met), that we shared things in common via writing and stories. Johann was a clever guy, didn’t suffer fools, wasn’t arrogant and was always prepared to share his knowledge and experience with those prepared to listen. He cared deeply about South Africa and its history, in particular the Karoo/ Prince Albert district which he regarded as his home, notwithstanding the fact that he passed away in his new home – Madeira, but I like to believe his heart remained in the Karoo. Anyone who passed through his district was welcome to ask for advice or help, but especially if you were on a bicycle.

 

His promotion of the Freedom Trail and his association with the annual Freedom Challenge are legendary (and not in the way that phrase is commonly thrown around), his support of Warmshowers was another indication of his desire to engage travellers, to share and to learn.

Johann was a bike nerd, an avid supporter of the Drunkcyclist and eschewed marketing BS – for him the bike was a pure thing – a beautiful machine – simple, yet sufficient. He appreciated the top end machines, but had a affinity for real bikes, those he could actually work on, those he could make more efficient and to send people on their way with something of himself imprinted on their cycling experience.

 

Another thing close to Johann’s heart was good coffee - preferably served out the back of vehicle somewhere in the veld, accompanied by a rusk, it represented a time to pause, to be grateful for a good brew, for each other’s company and the magical vistas of the Karoo. The last time I saw Johann was late afternoon/ evening last year riding the stretch from Willowmore to Prince Albert with Nigel Payne – due to circumstance, there was possibility that Johann might not have been on the trail last year, but I had faith. I hadn’t spoken to him, but I expected to see the Land Rover in the veld, it had nothing to do with anything other than commitment and integrity – something which was a hallmark of the gentleman, so when the Land Rover appeared in the distance, we freewheeled in and stopped to partake of a ritual. After a cup or two and the last of the sunset we set off for lights Prince Albert. Johann joined us for dinner at Dennehof with his friends, first seeing to a medical check up for Mandy in the town. We said goodbye, but the next morning at about 3:30am on collecting our bikes from the garage – it was clear that he had been over each one, leaving traces of care for the discerning eye.

 

Take care my friend, till we meet again. Charl.

 

[Kranswurm]

Man this is heavy

[Mntboy]

Johann , passionate about bicycles , Freedom Challenge finisher , fixer of bicycles , friend of anyone on a bicycle , always willing to help , to give advice on bicycles , routes , fond of bucking the popular trend passed away yesterday in Madeira . Heart attack .

Prince Albert will miss you Johann .

This is such sad news. Didn't know him beyond his contribution to the Bikehub community. Condolences to his family and friends.

 

Rus In Vrede Johann.

[The Crazy German]

I wanted to write something but the best story of our friendship has already been written by the kommander himself.   Freedom Challenge 6 Brosterlea and The Return of the Crazy German

 

By this stage of the race, you're getting used to waking up at 03h00, so the battering and clashing sounded quite normal. Until I realised that it was the roof rattling in the wind. Nothing like that to fill you with dread and harden your resolve all at the same time. I was so intent on avoidance behaviour that I cooked breakfast for the team that morning. It almost turned out to be our Last Breakfast. Suffice to say that the early morning conversation was full of 'polite anticipation'.

 

I don't remember too much of the scenery that morning, maybe I was just having a bad day, but all I remember was wind. Wind on the uphills, wind on the downhill, wind on the flat bits. And more wind. In hindsight, I know I fell neatly into the mind-trap of focussing too much on the wind, wasting energy with negative thoughts. I do remember riding along, just above walking pace, hearing the wind howling in the fence wires when into view came a few magnificent Lincoln Red bulls. Proof to me that Brosterlea was nearby. That meant a welcome respite in the form of a soup and bread lunch and shelter from the wind.

 

Getting to Brosterlea was a milestone for me in a totally different way though. In the early 1960's, my father was involved in cattle breeding and he had bought several Lincoln Red bulls from the legendary Henry Stretton. Meeting Barry and Alta Stretton was personal milestone for me.

 

Needless to say, once inside the warm house, my thoughts turned very rapidly to a "new race strategy". The rest of the "team", were adamant that it was best to press on. My superior race strategy/cop out option (delete as required) was to eat a good lunch and then sleep until the wind had died down, then to ride on in the very early hours of the morning.

 

All credit to the Three Wally's for trying their best to drag me out, but I think they realised that they weren't going to win. It was difficult for me to see them ride off, realising that just maybe I would not ride with them again.

 

Thanks to Alta and Barry's hospitality, I ate like a king and slept like the dead, waking up for supper and to prepare for a 2 am start, then back to sleep. I had noticed that there was a fatbike outside one of the other rooms, but the owner was asleep. Again, I took a chance, not knowing if I'd meet Maarten (aka The Crazy German aka Marty McFly) again.

 

Maarten and I go back a while, one night he arrived on my doorstep in Prince Albert needing to remake a steel sole-plate for his shoe. During a memorable evening in the workshop we "bodged"a sole-plate that would have made Shimano proud. I hoped that Maarten would keep me company over the next section of the race.

 

Little did I know quite how lucky I was about to become, good things happen in three's that I now know for a fact.

 

It snowed a few inches that night, so when I left at about 2:30am, I was riding in a dead calm winter wonderland. Cold, dry and frozen.

 

Luck number one was that the wind had delivered it's snow, without rain, and moved on.

 

Luck number two happened just before dawn when I saw a light approaching from behind, it was Maarten "The Crazy German". Let me dispel a few myths. Maarten is not German and he's not crazy, but he can ride and navigate like a demon.

 

We rode on in silence. Well, not really.

 

At one stage it started raining heavily, so we stopped to put on all our rain gear. I had visions of repeating the night that Deneys Reitz so clearly describes.

 

Allow me:

 

Adrift on the Open Veld From Commando – Of Horses and Men

by Deneys Reitz

As we started, hard rain came down once more, and the darkness was so intense that we could not see a yard ahead. We had not gone three hundred paces before we heard horsemen splashing through the mud in front, and we ran into the tail of an English patrol or column, we could not tell which, evidently making for the same farm. Neither side was prepared to risk a fight in the rain and dark. The troopers galloped away, and we sheered off too, but with this difference, that they were able to continue on to the shelter of the farm, whilst we were adrift on the open veld.

The night that followed was the most terrible of all. Our guide lost his way; we went floundering ankle-deep in mud and water, our poor weakened horses stumbling and slipping at every turn; the rain beat down on us, and the cold was awful. The grain-bag which I wore froze solid on my body, like a coat of mail, and I believe that if we had not kept moving every one of us would have died. We had known two years of war, but we came nearer to despair that night than I care to remember. Hour after hour we groped our way, with men groaning who had never before uttered a word of complaint, as the cold searched their ill-protected bodies. We lost fourteen men that night, and I do not know whether they survived, but we never again had word of them.

We also lost many horses, and I remember stumbling at intervals over their carcasses. We went on until daybreak, dragging ourselves along, and then, providentially, came on a deserted homestead and staggered into shelter, standing huddled together in rooms, stables and barns until dawn, still shivering, but gradually recovering from the dreadful ordeal. When it grew light, some fifty or sixty horses lay dead outside. My little roan mare was still alive, but both my uncle’s horses died here, and he, with thirty or forty more, was now a foot-soldier. (As practically every man had crossed the Orange River with two horses, the number of dismounted men did not necessarily correspond to the number of horses that were lost.)

This night’s ‘Big Rain’, as we called it, left such a mark on all of us that later we used to call ourselves ‘The Big Rain Men’ (Die Groot Reent Kêrels) to distinguish us from those who had not experienced it, and for my part I passed through no greater test during the war.

Buy the book. Read it.  http://caperebel.com

We made our way pretty quickly over the famous Stormberg portage, Maarten's knowledge of the route helped lift my spirit and no doubt saved me a good amount of wandering around. In fact, we went over the Stormberg so quickly that I later regretted not having stopped for a look around. (That I'll save for the tandem ride).

 

Romansfontein was our next port of call, but by now I was out of sync with my boxes. "Raiding" one's own boxes while gulping down a warm lunch and trying to do all this while appreciating our host's hospitality. In some ways I had over-planned my Freedom Challenge, so it was good lesson to let go and just collect what was needed before moving on.

 

The Aasvoelberg was next, again, Maarten's skill as a navigator played a big role in getting us through there without any navigation conferences. Coming off the back of the Aasvoelberg is spectacular (or would be with less mud). Needless to say, Maarten flew down, phatty style, while I simply made sure that I got to the bottom in one piece.

 

By now it was dark and I'd be lying if I said the warm golden lights of Hofmeyr beckoned. It was cold and miserable and muddy as we set out on the long slog into Hofmeyr. Not far along, we came across three riders covered in mud and, politely put, in need of some good cheer. This was how Allan, Ian, Paul were re-united and I ended up riding to Diemersfontein together.

 

Without water and feeling flat, we eventually managed to find some "windpomp sherry" that could certainly have earned a Veritas medal for the Brakkest Kakkest Water Ever". But we drank it.

 

Hofmeyr at 22h00. 150-odd very long kilometres. Straight into the Hofmeyr hotel. Food. Hot showers. And all is forgiven.

 

Luck number three was that the Wallys regained their anchor

 

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the shortened version of how Maarten became the Belgian representative of the Prince Albert Dikwielkommando. The citation is for service above and beyond the call of duty.

 

If the Madeiran and French postal services can get their acts together, he will be receiving his certificate on his birthday, the 9th of March.

 

I'm sure three Wally's, a Meryl and a host of other riders will join me in wishing you a very happy birthday Marty McFly.

 

PS This section is photo-less. I had other things on my mind and Ian was ahead.

 

My words again 

 

We rode a bit together of and on again mostly just the first bit and evening meals till somewhere after Toekomst.

 

Later on I got injured on the way into Prince Albert. Johan and the wallys caught up with me a bit after I limped up the leer. I had the pleasure to share most of the remaining back to Diemersfontein. I already dedicated todays snow ride to Johann and will do so tomorrow. We have to same read Freedom blanket, Johann was instrumentall in getting mine, it gonna be almost minus 10 tonight but that blanket is al I need. You will be deeply missed Kommander, its an honour to be your soldier.

 

[flymango]

RIP

[Eddie Stafford]

Very sad news, all round nice guy. RIP Johann

[Rocket-Boy]

That is sad news indeed

[taito]

RIP to one tough racer.

[GerrieTruter]

Very sad news. Condolences to his family.

[Frail. "Will forever remain "Frail"]

Few years back I was Cycling past Port Elizabeth.

 

Johan told me that I needed some "REFRESHMENTS".

Here he is waiting outside Koega with a bag FULL OF SARMIES, COKE AND WATER.

So much fond memories.

 

My Condolences to his family and friends. May you RIP.

[clivem]

RIP Johann.  Was a privilege to be accepted by you into the Prince Albert Dikwiel Kommando!

[Boerklong]

RIP

[Long Wheel Base]

RIP Oomie.

[Beesrib]

RIP

[Shebeen]

Tribute to Johann Rissik

 

I got to know Johann through the Freedom Trail as well as The Hub, it soon became apparent (long before we actually met), that we shared things in common via writing and stories. Johann was a clever guy, didn’t suffer fools, wasn’t arrogant and was always prepared to share his knowledge and experience with those prepared to listen. He cared deeply about South Africa and its history, in particular the Karoo/ Prince Albert district which he regarded as his home, notwithstanding the fact that he passed away in his new home – Madeira, but I like to believe his heart remained in the Karoo. Anyone who passed through his district was welcome to ask for advice or help, but especially if you were on a bicycle.

 

His promotion of the Freedom Trail and his association with the annual Freedom Challenge are legendary (and not in the way that phrase is commonly thrown around), his support of Warmshowers was another indication of his desire to engage travellers, to share and to learn.

Johann was a bike nerd, an avid supporter of the Drunkcyclist and eschewed marketing BS – for him the bike was a pure thing – a beautiful machine – simple, yet sufficient. He appreciated the top end machines, but had a affinity for real bikes, those he could actually work on, those he could make more efficient and to send people on their way with something of himself imprinted on their cycling experience.

 

Another thing close to Johann’s heart was good coffee - preferably served out the back of vehicle somewhere in the veld, accompanied by a rusk, it represented a time to pause, to be grateful for a good brew, for each other’s company and the magical vistas of the Karoo. The last time I saw Johann was late afternoon/ evening last year riding the stretch from Willowmore to Prince Albert with Nigel Payne – due to circumstance, there was possibility that Johann might not have been on the trail last year, but I had faith. I hadn’t spoken to him, but I expected to see the Land Rover in the veld, it had nothing to do with anything other than commitment and integrity – something which was a hallmark of the gentleman, so when the Land Rover appeared in the distance, we freewheeled in and stopped to partake of a ritual. After a cup or two and the last of the sunset we set off for lights Prince Albert. Johann joined us for dinner at Dennehof with his friends, first seeing to a medical check up for Mandy in the town. We said goodbye, but the next morning at about 3:30am on collecting our bikes from the garage – it was clear that he had been over each one, leaving traces of care for the discerning eye.

 

Take care my friend, till we meet again. Charl.

Charl,

 

when did he move to Madeira?

permanently, or reverse swallow?

[Prince Albert Cycles]

Johann still owned his house in PA , his elderly Father lives here as well as his brother David.

He and Sandra were living between Prince Albert and Madeira. They were planning to come back in May. Recently he told me via mail that his original dikwiel kommando fiets was up for sale when he returns in May. His 29" GT SS with a unique leather bag and grips.