The main character in this fascinating story, Pierre Brel, was the brother of famous singer-songwriter, the late Jaques Brel. This is the account of Pierre’s epic tour with a friend and their wives aboard 45” Harley sidecar outfits deep into the heart of tropical Africa. (Ed)
Story prepared by Jean-Paul Piron, AMCA Belgium
In the year that Harley became 100 years old, there were all over the world books and publicity about this famous brand. I don’t want to repeat what is already told but this is an interesting story and since I’m still riding with the same model, I’m proud: It’s a beautiful story and “CHAPEAU” for doing this trip in the year 1953-‘54.
Pierre Brel, the BIG journey
And why not ride to Blankenberge?
Born under the triple sign of motorcycling, travel and adventure, Pierre Brel crossed Europe from North to South accompanied by Léon Hellebuyck and their respective wives. From the paved roads of Spain, Portugal and Italy, they know every bump or hole.
The old continent was becoming small so they decided to cross the grand blue in direction of Algeria. But “far is never enough” and one of the wives says: “One day we’ll ride to the Congo!” And she said it as if today we might say: “and why not ride to Blankenberge?” (west Flanders, Belgium, Ed).
Eventually, their journey to Algeria served as training for the big run. The most important thing they learned was that the sidecars were not fit to for the desert roads because the distance between the wheels is not the same as for cars and trucks. Consequently, the motorcycle rides inside the trail they leave behind leaving the sidecar bumping up and down somewhat, a tricky thing to do! The solution was an adapted sidecar, made of large tubes (serving as extra fuel storage) and fitting a sidecar wheel spacer. The Belgian Harley dealer, Marcel Van de Velde, made the two sidecars based on the design of Léon, the mechanic.
The adventure starts at dawn!
December 1953: still dark outside, a rainy morning and the Liberators (they had met the Japanese in the Pacific war) are anxious to leave. The sidecars are fully packed. With an unstable load because of 120 litres fuel and 80 litres of water and as Pierre says: “ca Clouche”. The combined motorcycles and sidecars weigh in at about 800kg. (Ca Clouche is a local Brussels expression meaning ‘wobbly like a jelly’ Ed).
Once arrived at Gibraltar it’s burning Africa that is waiting for these four daring bikers going into the impossible: and NO assistance, NO back-up and NO Touring Assistance as we have now: just the UNKNOWN!
Before crossing the desert and the FechFech, a lot of paperwork (already then) had to be done by the local administration: first a prohibition to cross the desert without a convoy. “No Problem” says Pierre, “2 motorcycles is a convoy”. Second: the customs service and the police and ride also the Trans-saharienne had to give permits and it was not easy, not even with a recommendation from Belgian Royal House! Finally, the route for Tanezrouft and the dark Continent is open for them!
The African luck and ..... bad luck
Crossing the Sahara (about 2000 km, 1250 miles) was done with a number of minor technical problems. Also, the inevitable meeting with local convoys and the traditional sharing of salt, a blessed present for the nomads. The desert is, besides the heavy heat, the extreme dryness and the sand that goes everywhere, a trial...
The first big problem arrives at Mali, south of Gao at the borders of the Niger: one of the sidecar mountings broke. Return to Gao and finding transport to bring the broken beast to a blacksmith for welding. The African way is fraying our nerves: “Tomorrow there is a hunting so you must wait a few days” Patience and ...a lot of time! Back again on the road: direction Nigeria! Alas, again technical problems, whilst the mechanic Léon had a severe attack of malaria. So Pierre had to be told how to work on a Harley and he just didn’t have a clue about mechanics.....Tragi-comedy!
The isle of doctor Schweitzer, the first free resting day!
Riding through a beautiful and unforgettable highlands of Cameroon:
The roads are so steep that they had to call local people and school children to help and push the “small trucks” as they called the outfits.
Gabon: “Nothing good except the second part of the name” says Pierre. The roads are so bad that they are not able to ride more than 25 km per day. It’s physical and mental torture. Pierre has to write the daily road report while standing, otherwise he falls asleep. They also have a lot of problems with swarms of insects. Finally sunshine: the arrival at Lambaréné with doctor Schweitzer who collects them with open arms; a first resting day after more than 2 months riding!
Following a quick inspection of the motorcycles they hit the road again. After a while the road stops and the only way to continue is via the river. Normally the descending of the Ogooué is done in 4 days but unfortunately they missed the boat making the connection and it only goes a month! Luckily they can arrange a with a woodcutter to take them with him on his log raft. Astonishing, the way the enormous raft of Okoumé-trees is descending the river. The voyage continues through Congo Brazzaville, where they met an objectionable European who enticed the local females to become alcoholic with cheap wine so that he could profit from their thirst.
Leopoldville, 1st traffic light since Morocco and lst single for Jacques Brel.
After an ignition breakdown, Pierre had to ride 1200 km (800 miles) to get parts, they finally arrives in Leopoldville (now Kinshasa, capital of the present Zaire), a journey of 101 days. They are invited from one reception to another, conferences and interviews all over for the “suddenly famous travellers” and on the radio Pierre hears for the first time the first song of his brother Jacques. Soon, they become annoyed and they decide to cross the country on a 7350 km trip throughout Congo.
The hell on the road back.
During the return journey their worst mechanical problem arrives: the frame of Léon’s Harley breaks into two while being towed by a 4-wheel drive truck. While Léon and his wife are waiting in a small African village, Pierre and his wife ride back to Kano (Nigeria) and telegraph at Marcel Van de Velde to send a new frame and some new tubes for the sidecars. After 10 days, the parts arrive but the customs service refuses them entry, suspicious that they might be gun parts. After bribing the officials they get the parts and are able to continue. On the 14th of July they are at Niger in full celebration and where the local potentate parades with his 200 wives: “And you know” says Pierre; “he doesn’t even look tired!”
Then hell starts by crossing the Sahara in full summer, a normally forbidden area in that season. The thermometer in Pierre’s shirt reaches up to 73°C and above that they had to conquer a sandstorm. Finally back on asphalt, then back in Spain and so into France, where all over, the motorcycle clubs are inviting them in. Back in the home country they are received as heroes: the complete connection between Brussels and Leopoldville was realised by four close friends and two Harley-Davidsons: 29.438 km on which 22.000 on desert and forest roads, a journey to remember.
Thank you Marie Jeanne and Pierre Brel and Germaine and Léon Hellebuyck for telling us this exceptional story and to make us dream.
Story prepared by J-P Piron, AMCA Belgium
Mrs. Van De Velde, ex-Harley-Davidson dealer in Brussels, kindlly loaned photos and documents.
I thank Mr. Nivarlet for helping to find the article of Mr. Michel Grainson who wrote the original article after interviewing Pierre Brel.