South Africa Part I
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30 th August 2004 We head into town to get cash and get sucked into buying from a small crafts stall on the kerbs of the car park. We have a breakfast in Steers and check email before having more food at the British Pie Co. We drive the 20kms to the very smart border office and leave Botswana without hassles. Entering South Africa is also hassle free and simply a chat and a laugh to the immigration lady about our trip; she tells us she’s never heard of anything like it! I read some of the labels on the impounded boxes in front of the customs desk – one reads ‘Contents: 3 sets of men’s briefs – detained’ …alrighty then. We drive through the Western Province, Ranger explains all the different registrations and regions throughout his country. Some of the small towns we pass through seem pretty inbred. The road infrastructure is amazing but there are tolls. We get to our first one without any South African Rand and park up in front of the barrier pleading with the young chap in the kiosk to waiver the 9 SAR and let us through. He refuses until an old man in a ‘backie’ (pickup) drives up to the barrier, asks him what the problem is and puts two charges on his card – legend! We drive on along the N4 towards Rustenberg and stop for some needed cash. After another toll and darkness falling upon us, we turn off to the Hartbeespoortdam and stop at the Cock & Bull roadside pub. We polish a couple of pints of Hansa and a 500g T-bone and chat to the rather inbred barmaid about the huge albino catfish, in the waters behind the dam, which swallows people and cars – eh?! We park up in the Zanandy campsite and find the lady owner who either refuses to speak any English to us or who is so Afrikaans, she doesn’t know any. We sleep early. 31 st August 2004 The morning reveals the campsite is an Afrikaans picnic/day tripper spot with parking spaces, personal braii grills and large splash pool. Today is the last day of the trip for Ranger who is up early and making coffee. After showering, we hop in the car and across the Hartbeespoorrtdam, along the edge of the apparently polluted but nice looking waters and through the town towards Jo’burg. The outskirts of the city are covered in tin huts housing Africans from all over the continent that have arrived here looking for work. We stop at Fourways, one of the many large shopping malls scattered around the city, to check email and so Ranger can have the three-month growth on his head sheared off. We find the Canon camera repair centre in the industrial park of Midrand and drop the little IXUS off for medical attention. When we get to my cousin’s, Jane, house in Lone Hill, both her and Nicky are still at work. Alice, the house-help, hugs Ranger in the garage and then me before an introduction is even made; she’s such a lovely woman and when told I am the son of Hilary, she shakes my hand. We eat sandwiches on the patio and I write my diary to sound of the water feature falling into the splash pool and the two dogs, Harry and Biscuit, running around. At 4pm we drive to Sandton to meet Nicky at a meeting with the architecture for their new home. We pass the building site where the homes are being constructed. There is so much new housing, with their perimeter walling and security gates, springing up in and around Jo’burg. After the meeting, I hop in Nicky’s car and head for home, chatting, laughing and catching up after many years. Jane has been entertaining clients from midday so when I enter the house, she is on great form! We catch up immediately, as if we saw each other yesterday, before some of her best school friends and partners come over for drinks. We chat, laugh and put on a slideshow of our photos. When the guests leave, we sleep. 1 st September 2004 I awake on my bed, the incredibly comfortable sofa, with Harry licking my arm. The place looks like a bombsight from last night so I clear up all the empty bottles, can and plates. It is 6-30am and Nicky has already left for her jog and Jane, the gym. On the other end of the scale, Ranger and I lounge on the sofas in front of the telly in true sloth style. I enjoy my first bath for four months before helping Ranger to clear out the car, amassing the huge array of crafts in the sitting room. Harry sniffs each craft and is petrified when we bring in two animal skin drums, either because of the smell or the fact that the skin looks like his! We decide to get some cash, check email and fuel up at the local mall before meeting one of Ranger’s mates for lunch. After our salads (time to get fit again!) we wander around a huge indoor craft market in the mall, not to be influenced into buying by the pushy, but friendly, sellers. Back at home, I write an update while Ranger sorts his things out from the car and unpacks his crafts to form a display for when Nix returns from work. A tired Jane returns home first, before heading back out to a spinning class. Nix returns and is delighted with the crafts Ranger has brought home – few brownie points there, good man! They then go out to spend some time together in a Thai restaurant, I write update and name photos, Jane returns, baths and sleeps. When Ranger & Nix return we chat and laugh before hitting the sack early. 2 nd September 2004 I wake up with Harry licking my face again. I start copying photos onto CD for Ranger while he starts to build a life again by phoning banks, phone shops and driving license office etc. We drive to Rosebank offices where I’m introduced to Ranger’s friend, Murry, a trading for himself on the SA stock market. I jump on the internet while Ranger goes over the road to buy the ingredients for a good bbq this evening. After three hours, I phone him at home to come and pick me up. Back at home, I change the fuel filter, wash all the cutlery and cooking equipment and have a look at the bonnet striker, which is failing to engage properly. We loaf in front of the telly until 6-30pm leaving for the bbq at a flat in Sandton. Murry, Ranger, myself and the host, Steve, have a great evening round the barbie, drinking and chatting about our trip and Murry’s radical concept of setting up mobile coffee outlets at traffic lights in rush hour traffic, with the idea of bettering the ‘Starbuck experience’! 3 rd September 2004 Up at 6am when Nix leaves for her daily 8km jog and Jane leaving for work. As usual, Harry darts off her bed, out of her room and very kindly gives me my usual wakeup call by licking my arm. I copy Ranger’s African anthems on to CD, which we played in the car on tour before sorting out the car for the arrival of my two friends in a week who will join me from the UK for the next leg of my trip, Jo’burg to Cape Town. At 4-30pm, we drive to a bar in Sandton and meet Nix and friends after work for early doors. Dinner is had at a Fish Monger restaurant with the Sanders Family and other halves – delicious food enjoyed by all. Wanting to party on, I get Ranger to drop me at a club where Murry is with friends and dance the night away. The plan was to stay at Murry’s gaf but I stay on the dance floor until closing at 4am! Having no phone, the club manager kindly calls me a taxi to Jane’s place in Lone Hill, which never arrives. The car park slowly empties but no-one knows where Lone Hill is to give me a lift. The strange driver of the last car leaving the club finally agrees to drive me halfway to Lone Hill – I decide it’s better than nothing. I begin to question my decision as the driver of the Fiat Uno gets his tin can up to about 100kms out of Sandton before dropping me in a dark carpark next to a Shell fuel station. After informing the cashiers that I am from the UK and lost in Jo’burg, one of the most dangerous cities in the world, they drop everything and call a taxi. When it finally arrives I jump into the black car and ask for Lone Hill; the driver looks unsure. When we leave the garage the wrong way down a one-way street and have to mount the kerb, I decide he’s not a taxi driver at all and probably just a mate of the fuel station cashier. After an hour of driving round the many housing estates in the city, asking security gate men and pulling U-turns in dead ends, we eventually find Lone Hill and Jane’s house at 6am! I forget about the garage door bleeper in our car and decide my only option is to fold out the roof tent and get some sleep as the sun rises. 4 th September 2004 I wake late in the morning when I hear Nix, Jane & Ranger laughing outside when they see the tent unfolded. Feeling absolutely shattered, I join Nix in the house and have breakfast on the patio. With Maria, the weekend house help, we all jump in the car and drive to the racetrack where my Aunt’s ashes are scattered, a rose bush planted and a bench placed in her memory. We sit on the bench and watch the dogs run around in the sun. It is a lovely spot where Jill loved. Back at home Jane and I lounge in front of the box watching the film, Love Actually, in hysterics. She treats me to a pizza. At 4-30pm, Nix, Ranger & a shattered me head off to Nicky Sanders’ 30 th party at her family home. The boys are immediately ordered to grab a beer and watch Lions vs Cheetahs rugby match with Nicky’s father, Don, while the girls catch up and natter round the pool. The beers begin to flow as more people fill the bar area. The music is good, the dance floor alive, the speeches excellent (well done Granny Sanders!) and fun had by all. We get home at 1am and immediately call it a day. 5 th September 2004 The plan was to play golf today at the Royal Johannesburg GC. When Nix wakes me on the sofa at 11ish, I decide that after two late nights, sleep is more important and the Royal Johannesburg would not be appreciated to its full potential and will have to wait for another day. After a great chat with my parents on the phone back in the UK, Jane & I go shopping at Fourways and chat and laugh over coffee and muffins. Apparently last night one of her male friends got held up at gunpoint when three armed men raided the local BP filling station just down the road from her house. Apparently this is pretty common. Back at home, Jane heads off for a friend’s daughter’s 15 th birthday party; I cook a late lunch and write the update outside on the patio before Ranger & Nix return from an apparently shocking round of golf. We sit around shattered and have dinner in front of a film on DSTV trying to fathom out Jane’s new GPS purchase for the bush. 6 th September 2004 Up early, pushing Harry off my sofa. I book a Soweto tour for tomorrow afternoon before Ranger and I drive to Pretoria so he can pick up forms to convert his UK driving license to SA. The only picturesque thing seen on my brief ‘tour’ of Pretoria was the Union Buildings. On the way back down the N1 highway, we stop off in Midrand to get some packaging for the crafts I am going to have to offload to Ranger & Nix and friends – shipping back to the UK would cost over 250 GBP – didn’t think of that! Back at Lone Hill, I read another chapter of ‘The Power of One’ in the sun before sitting on the internet in Murry’s office for an hour, who very kindly gives me a lift home at close of play. The girls arrive back. We have soup in front of the box before heading to our rooms to crash. 7 th September 2004 I sip coffee and munch toast for breakfast on the patio, in the fresh morning sun, not a cloud in the sky. After packaging the ridiculous amount of crafts bartered for throughout Africa, I top up the old tan and read another chapter outside in the garden. Ranger then drives me to Jane’s offices in Sandton. I walk into the incredibly large atrium of this huge insurance company and sit in my shorts, sandals and t-shirt reading a copy of the FT, trying not to look too out of place! Jane and I then drive too a nearby hotel and meet Wonga, our driver for the afternoon, of the Lords Tours minibus. We giggle in the back of the bus, behind two old women from the UK, and get driven through Haughton (one of Jo’burgs 609 suburbs), past Nelson Mandela’s new home since 1998, past my cousins’ old school of Rhodean and through the notorious areas of Hillbrow and Braamfontein. After crossing the Nelson Mandela bridge, we stop in the centre of Old Jo’burg’s CBD, with it’s old buildings and shops reflected in the mirrored windows of the huge offices of major companies, which unfortunately have moved out due to increasing crime; these are now slowly returning. We are taken into a Muti shop selling witchcraft remedies, which are concocted from things like animal skins, baboon bones and starfish, all hanging from the low ceiling of the dimly lit shop. The CBD is a real mix of old and new, modern architecture and is revelling in history. A sign above a wholesaler reads ‘non-white shop’. The Carlton Hotel overlooks the central business district and is apparently the highest building on the continent. We drive on to the shanty residence of Diepkloof, meaning ‘deep valley’, on the outskirts of Soweto. A resident, known as Kevin, walks us round this fenced off community of 7000 people and shows us inside one of the tiny tin-roofed huts, housing a family of nine. The mother tells us how she sews pillowcases to sell to the other residents and how the radio and TV are powered from a car battery, having to be recharged every four days. Lighting comes from a candle and heat, from the coal cooking stove. There are 250 porta-loos and only 15 water taps dotted up and down the tracks throughout the residence. We pass barrack style accommodation built in the ‘50s for single males working in the mines nearby. Now they are being slowly converted to house lower-class families. For an hour, we walk in stunned silence around the Henrik Pieterson museum in Soweto, meaning South West Township. Henrik Pieterson was a 13 year old boy shot dead on the 16 th June in the 1976 school riots to protest the teaching of subjects in only English and not in their family tongues, Afrikaans. We stop and walk round Nelson Mandela’s old home, see Winny’s current home and drive past Desmond Tutu’s residence on the only street where two Nobel Piece Prize winners have lived. The tour is a must for not only tourists, but also people of Jo’burg who have been kept in the dark with regards to their countries history – a real eye opener. In the evening, we meet Ranger, Steve and Nix at The Butcher Shop and chat and laugh over an incredible fillet steak, washed down with a delicious Merlot – again, my cousins spoil me. 8 th September 2004 First job of the day is to bubble wrap the huge African mask I purchased in Kenya. I leave Ranger reading on the sofa and go to Fourways mall to stock up with the cheapest baked beans and rice for the next leg of the trip and organise a flight back from Livingstone when finally delivering the car to Zambia in two months time. Alice arranges some white lilies I bought for my cousins and the house. After lunch, I leave Ranger still reading on the sofa and head for the local library to swot up on the rest of SA and Namibia - both look unreal. I head home in rush hour traffic, the squealing brakes deafening the unfortunate drivers with their windows down. I write update, Ranger and Nix go to bed, Jane works in front of the TV. 9 th September 2004 Ranger gives Nix a lift to work because afterwards she is heading off for a girly weekend at a private game farm. After returning, he drops me off at a library to read about SA and Namibia while he has a chat with a recruitment agency round the corner. We drive around town ticking jobs off a list and head home for lunch to satisfy the old hotdog addiction. I drive into town to fill the gas bottle up for the next leg of my trip. I head home to pick up the wood sealer etc. for the bench, in memory of my cousins’ Mother and my Aunty Jill, before heading up the N1 highway to the racetrack. The trainers are all having a boozy bbq and when I stroll into the bar to inform the barman, Kelvin, that I’m from the UK and have come to paint the bench in memory of my Aunt, he and his friends almost faint; apparently they had just been discussing how they must get on with painting the bench – all very random! Kelvin brings out beers for me while I paint the bench in the heat of the afternoon. I chat to the people in the bar, leaving the bench to dry, and head home. Ranger goes off to meet Murry for a few drinks. I stay in and watch films to leave Ranger to catch up with his old pals and also to try and save some cash! 10 th September 2004 Up early to sit on the internet for three hours in Murry’s office. After lunch back at home, I head up to the racecourse again to give Jill’s bench a second coat. The plaque has been screwed on and looks great. In the carpark and heat of the sun, I remove each wheel on the Landy and give the brake pads a clean in an attempt to eradicate the squeal. I drive back home to watch ‘The Gods must be crazy’ with Ranger, a comedy film about how a coke bottle falls from a plane and causes havoc within the innocent, simple lives of some bushmen – hilarious. In the evening, we meet Fonz from Dar, here on business, and Steve Good at a pub for drinks and pizzas. After a healthy round of ales we head home to face the giggling girls Jane has invited round. She gives us shooters before performing a fashion show for us all, donning her new bush uniform – very smart! The tour anthem, ‘Impi’, is then blasted out of the hi-fi and we all dance about to the slightly confused look of the dogs. The night goes on into the early hours… 11 th September 2004 Waking up on the sofa with a white wine hangover isn’t pleasant. With no time for a shower, we get whisked away in Jane’s car to buy a 4yr old’s birthday present and head for the party. At Jane’s friend’s house, there are kids all over the place, jumping around on the bouncy castle and feeding carrots to the cow, goats and lambs supplied by The Birthday Animal Co.! The kids seemed to be having a great time, my head wasn’t. We drive off to Fourways to pick up the flight tickets and have brunch before dropping Ranger back at home. Jane and I hop into the Landy and drive to the ‘Getaway’ magazine adventure show out of town. We walk around the stalls, picking up info on SA and Namibia, groaning and feeling sorry for ourselves. After four months navigating our way through Africa without GPS, I decide it’s time for at least a compass and purchase a small, dash mounted one. Ranger has gone to Steve’s to watch some province rugby match, Jane tries to get some sleep before a 50 th party she’s going to this evening – so not jealous! I pack my rucksack, study the maps and do an update in front of the telly in preparation for tomorrow when Ali & Morts fly out from the UK to join me to Cape Town. Ranger phones to say he’s catching a film with Murry. I watch Henman play Federer in the US Open, waiting for a text from Morts to confirm which flight he and Ali have jumped on. I will pick them up from the airport tomorrow morning, in the Landy of course! I lie awake with the dogs fidgeting on my duvet and barely hear Ranger return at 10pm. 12 th September 2004 Jane returns at 1-30am with a bloke in tow whom ‘I must meet’. After the very quick and tried introduction they chat and laugh over the music in the next room – there’s no way I’m sleeping now! I eventually get to sleep after he leaves at 4-30am until my phone alarm goes off at 8am. Ranger accompanies me to the airport and we wait amongst the crowds for flight number BA57 to walk through. It feels like it was yesterday when I last saw Morts & Ali when they eventually wander through. We drive back home and introduce them to a still intoxicated, giggling cousin. Ranger cooks a fantastic breakfast, which we eat outside, whilst planning the next few days. After some photos with the car, Ranger waves us goodbye and disappears into the house – I feel sorry for him, as it must feel strange for him leaving the car to two strangers in his place. We follow the N1 to Pretoria and due to the chatting and laughing, we fly past the junction to the N4. This turns out to be an expensive mistake due to the two tolls to get back onto the N1. We stop for fuel; Morts is gagging to get behind the wheel and hops into the driver’s seat. We drive for over a 100kms until the flight catches up with him and we change over. Ali sleeps in the back. The landscape becomes greener and wheat fields more abundant. As we enter the fly fishing hot-spot of Dollstroom the scenery is not too dissimilar to the Scottish Highlands (like Ethiopia) with the pine trees, green hills and lakes. We decide not to stop and continue for 50kms, following the railway, to Lydenberg, a quiet service centre for the farming district. We set up camp to enjoy Morts & Ali’s first dinner in Africa, in the dark. Pieces of twig and leaf fall from the tree overhead into the pasta and on to our heads. We decide it’s too dark to set up the dome tent so we all collapse into the rooftent at 8pm. 13 th September 2004 Morts & Ali wake early at 5-30am. He asks ‘Sewelly, keen to get up?’. ‘Uh, no thanks!’. They both get up but are back in the tent very quickly after experiencing, for the first time, the chill of the African mornings! I get up at 7am and lie in a hot bath. Back at the car, the couple sleep as I sip coffee and write update and diary. It’s great to be back on the road; today we do Kruger NP. After a quick stop in Lydenberg for groceries and a 5-litre bag of wine (quality!) we set off north into the Klein Drakensberg. The landscape changes continuously as we climb up into the clouds round steep winding roads to 2500m. We pass through old gold mining towns like Graskop, ascending into the fog. It is wet. We stop where The Pinnacle should be, an impressive rock formation that juts out from the escarpment, and further up at God’s Window, an equally impressive viewpoint overlooking the Lowveld, 1000m below. Unfortunately we struggle to see each other in the dense fog, let alone these superb views. We carry on further north to Blyde River Canyon, 30kms long and one of South Africa’s scenic highlights. The scenery is amazing over the canyon with the Blyde carving through the lowveld below and the Three Rondavels on the other side, huge cylinders of rock with hutlike pointed ‘roofs’ rising out of the far wall of the canyon. We join up with the mainroad again the Abel Erasmus Pass round towards Hoedspruit and the Orpen Gate into Kruger National Park. On the road to the gate we see Kudu, Buffalo and Impala before entering the park at 4ish. On the brief evening drive we spot Wilderbeest, Warthog, more Impies, a slender Mongoose and Giraffe. Back at the campsite, we fire up a bbq, cook delicious steaks and boerwurs and polish off half the beers and wine. 14 th September 2004 I awake at 4-30am to the sound of Buffalo. As soon as the gate is opened at 6am, we set off on a morning drive into the morning mist over the park. Cobwebs glisten in the bush as the sun attempts to burn through. The highlight of the morning was rounding a corner on a dirt track, away from the mainroad, to find a huge bull elephant walking towards us. Morts and I almost had heart attacks when Ali screamed in the back! We see over 50 more elephant, including the most impressive ‘member’ of the Big Five, during the drive down to Skukuza in the south of the park. We cut some off on a track and watch them eating bush for a few minutes before we too become hungry. After a hotdog and salad lunch, we continue along the Lower Sabi River road, with the constant singing of Ali in the back, ‘Where are you Mister Rhino?!’. She sees one but on further investigation by naughtily getting on the roof it turns out to be an incredibly realistic Rhino tree stump – gutted. 2kms from exiting the park, we watch a family of rare Wild Dog next to the track. Then 1km from the gate, Mister Rhino is waiting for us literally ten metres from the road! We leave the park ecstatic and drive on to the N4 and south towards Barberton, a small, boom town during gold rushes last century and was home to South Africa’s first Stock Exchange. It also featuring in my current read, The Power of One. We find the Barberton Chalet & Caravan Park and set up camp, eat in the dark and read in the car, before all retiring upstairs early. 15 th September 2004 We leave the camp early, stopping briefly at a supermarket to stock up. We fly down the R38 through Badplass, Carolina and then Ermelo, towards Volksrust. The scenery changes from being hilly with huge pine plantations on the slopes to flatter bush. We stop outside Newcastle for a beer and hotdogs at the side of the road in a field. Morts drives on to Ladysmith and over the N3 to Bergville, the entrance to the Drakensberg, a mountainous basalt escarpment forming the border between KwaZulu-Natal and Lesotho, and also meaning Dragon Mountains. We camp in the pleasant grounds of the Bergville caravan park and chat and laugh over another bbq, cooking corn-on-the-cob, steaks, boerwurs and marshmallows. 16 th September 2004 I hop into my first hot bath in yonks before we head into the countryside of the Drakensberg via Winterton. The drive to Monks Cowl, a beautiful region of the range, is spectacular and not unlike Switzerland on a summers day. We wind our way up the tree-lined road, dotted with pink rhododendrons, up to the carpark and get out to admire the views. We head south and turn off towards the small town of Nottingham Road and drive the 60 odd kms to the start of Sani Pass…… LESOTHO 16TH September 2004 …..This steep route into Lesotho, the highest pass in South Africa at 2865m, and the only road between KwaZulu-Natal and Lesotho, is one of the most scenic parts of the Drakensberg. The drive up is magic, with stunning views out across the Umkhomazana River to the north and looming, feet-shaped cliffs to the south. The climb is incredibly steep and hard going but we must make it to the highest pub in Africa at the top and down in 2hrs before the passport office back into SA closes at 4pm. The air becomes colder and thinner as we pass snow on the cliff faces and climb to the immigration office into Lesotho. We quickly neck a pint of local ale on the balcony taking in the amazing view. It is very much like having a lunch on the piste in the French Alps!….. |
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SOUTH AFRICA Part II 16th September 2004 …..With Morts behind the wheel for the descent after a little Dutch courage and Ali petrified in the back, we make it down and through immigration back into SA in time. Not only had we just sampled a beer from the highest pub in Africa but we also have some new stamps in the passport! – awesome. Back on the N3 east we boot it to Durban, the subtropical city on a long surf beach, a major port and third largest city in SA. After navigating our way though the dodgy rubbish strewn streets of Old Durban, we find the Nomad Backpackers. The attraction of three in a rooftent has eventually worn for Morts & Ali so they opt for a huge en suite double. I set up the tent in the carpark. We get a taxi along the harbour to the Roma Rotating restaurant on the 32nd floor of a tall building overlooking the bright lights of the city. 17th September 2004 Up early for showers in the room before heading south down N2 highway along the Sunshine coast of the Indian Ocean. After a swap of drivers and covering almost 450kms, we enter the Wild Coast, notoriously dangerous for ships. We turn off onto a twisting road through green hills, dotted with green, white, yellow and brown huts, towards the coast and the tiny hamlet of Coffee Bay, some say named after a ship wrecked here in 1863 depositing its cargo of coffee beans on the beach. We drive 10kms past the small bay and hamlet of backpackers accommodation to The Hole in the Wall lodges round the coast. Morts & Ali book themselves into a huge family apartment, I park outside. We sit in front of the pool sipping beers, chatting, laughing and watching the huge rollers crashing on to the sandy beach, before moving into the warmth of the bar. After a good three-hour session, we eat a delicious pasta in the self-catering apartment and phone almost all our mates and family members back in the UK. Back in the bar, Morts is taught how to give proper massages by an extremely camp local, before we get the barmaid involved in some more pool. Back at the apartment, the rooftent is left in its cover and I grab one of the four beds in the second bedroom. 18th September 2004 We awake, still feeling slightly under the influence, and decide the perfect cure for a hangover, after a huge cooked breakfast, is a swim in the big surf of the Indian Ocean. We leave a rather hungover Ali in the bathroom with a bucket. After surviving the sharks and huge crashing waves, we all walk round the coast to The Hole in the Wall, a rock formation featuring an impressive natural hole that has been carved through the cliffs by the pounding of the ocean. We walk through an enchanted looking wood where a unicorn wouldn’t look out of place onto the sandy beach in front of the rock. A local man dives for crayfish. We are befriended by two local boys who walk back with us. Outside the apartment gates onto the beach, we buy three small crayfish for 10 Rand and shove them in the fridge. The 80 km drive back to the N2 over the winding hills proves too much for Ali and two local lads lying on the grassy verge look bemused as the hangover gets the better of her. East London is the country’s largest river port, situated on the Buffalo river. We eventually find the Lagoon Valley Holiday Resort. Unfortunately all double rooms are full so I drive Morts & Ali to the Regency Hotel on the windy Esplanade, overlooking Eastern Beach and the harbour. I spot dolphin playing in the surf. Back at the resort, I park under some trees for shelter and put up the tent in the wind before cooking dinner and reading up on the route ahead. With three sleeping bags and two pillows the tent is so cosy and a good night’s sleep is had. 19th September 2004 Up at 7-30am to pick Morts & Ali up from the hotel. The 310km drive to Port Elizabeth is easy. The city centre is on steep hills overlooking Algoa Bay. We stop opposite the City Hall and Library and take a walk in the park and around the lighthouse on top of the hill. We press on to Jeffrey’s Bay, or J-Bay, the surfers’ haven. The main street is lined with backpackers and mainstream surf shops. Morts & Ali take a lovely double en suite room at Island Vibe backpackers, overlooking the beach and the wave known locally as Kitchen Windows. After dumping the stuff in the room, Morts and I run along the beach, Baywatch style, with boogie boards under an arm, and dive into the surf. After floating around with the wetsuit clad surfers for an hour and catching only one wave, we stumble out over the sharp rocks back onto the beach. Luckily there were no hot surfer chicks about because we looked positively amateur. After a quick shower to wash off the salt, we hit the bar for early doors and shoot some pool. The bbq is lit for the crayfish whilst Ali prepares her rice speciality. After a superb meal of crayfish, rice and salad, we read on the sofas in the smart communal open plan kitchen/dining area before heading to bed. 20th September 2004 We take an early stroll down the beach, the sand cold beneath our feet. Back on the N2 we cross over large bridges spanning huge gorges and stop at Storms River Mouth to walk over the bridge and look down into the deep gorge below. 21kms west we pass (thank God) the worlds highest bungy jump at 216m. The scenery consists of pine trees, green, rolling hills and yellow gorse flowers. We decide to stop at Plettenberg Bay, at the start of the Garden Route, with an amazing combination of mountains, white sand and crystal blue water. We park up and wander down to a bar over the beach for a superb pint of Forresters. After a walk along the beach in search of the pansy shell, the towns symbol, we head out of town, briefly stopping for a photo on Sewell Street! Down the coast, we stop at Knysna, an old timber and ship building port, perched on the edge of a lagoon and surrounded by rich indigenous forests. We find the train station near the Waterfront development and buy tickets for Morts & Ali to travel from Knysna to George on the Outeniqua Choo-Tjoe steam train. This 1928 steam train chugs along the spectacular coast and through the country, leaving at 2-15pm, arriving in George at 5pm. After enjoying a lunch overlooking the marina, I wave them off from the platform. I jump in the car and drive round the lagoon, where the towns famous oysters are bred, to the Knysna Heads, two sandstone cliffs at the entrance to the lagoon, once proclaimed by the British Royal Navy the most dangerous harbour entrance in the world. I decide to drive out of the town, north through Prince Alfred’s Pass, along the N9 and drop into George through the Outeniqua Pass for 5pm, so I am against the clock. Outside Knysna, the road passes through pine and eucalypt plantations and indigenous forest, the home of the last single elephant in the Knysna Forest. The dirt track is steep but I make good progress. I stop and gaze up into the branches of a huge 39m, 650+ year old Yellowwood tree. After a steep 1km climb to the top of a pinnacle viewpoint, the 360º views over the Langkloof Valley are unreal and it feels like the vehicle and I are on top of the world. I get back on the track and drive the winding pass, through woodland, past trout farms, along streams, opening and closing gates as I go. After 100kms, I join the N9 west and fly along the straight tarmac towards George, with the mountain range to my left, the odd blur of a lake and the packed fields of ostrich farms to my right. Fuel is getting low and time running out to meet the train on time. The views from the Outeniqua Pass are superb as I descend quickly into George, the largest town on the Garden Route, founded in 1811. I eventually find the station, and Morts & Ali, 30mins later than planned; they had a great time. We decide to drive the 30kms southwest to Herold’s Bay on the coast, a sleepy village with one shop and a good beach. Morts & Ali book themselves into an expensive room overlooking the bay. I ask directions to the caravan park. Apparently there are no means of food in the bay for Morts & Ali so we have to drive back into George and stuff our faces with extremely cheap and tasty burgers. After dropping Morts & Ali off at their luxorious room, I drive down to the seafront and park up at the end of the beach under a street lamp. I read in the tent for a while, peering out every so often when a car drives slowly down the road, turns and disappears; I am blatantly parked at the end of a lovers’ lane! I turn off the torch and sleep to the sound of the waves crashing onto the rocks only metres from the road. 21st September 2004 Shortly after midnight, I awake to the sound of an engine idling next to me and talking and laughing of teenagers. The car then goes, leaving the youths to drink, shout, scream, sing and do what teenagers do, on the beach all night. I sleep until 7am when things get quiet. I leave the tent to an audience of teenagers being loaded into the back of a pickup by the same man who must have dropped them there last night – all very bizarre. I cook some beans and sip coffee on the seawall watching some fishermen cast their lines into the misty spray of the surf. As I pull into the B&B to pick Morts & Ali up, I see my first ever whale, breach out of the water – unreal. We watch them for a while longer and download photos onto the laptop. A confused frog pops his head out of the laptop bag, which must have hopped in back in Coffee Bay! After clearing the room of all bath products etc., we press on towards Cape Town. Swellendam is a historic and attractive town, dating from 1746, dotted with old oak trees and surrounded by mountains. We have a delicious lunch in La Belle Alliance, sitting outside next to the Koringlands River, to the sounds of live jazz from the carpark. Not to interrupt the excellent music with the roar of our engine, we sit patiently in the car waiting for the tune to end; it doesn’t so we are forced to fire up the engine, engulfing the three local jazz players in black smoke! On we go to Hermanus, an old fishing town best known now as a place to view southern right whales coming here to calf. We book into a great, inexpensive terraced cottage bang on the sea front. Morts & Ali wander round town whilst I check my email, on the fastest connection since leaving the UK. We light the barbie and enjoy early doors in one the smartest bars ever, at the top of a shopping arcade, with an open front overlooking the harbour. Back at the cottage, the dinner of chicken kebab and boerwurs is delicious. Ali hits the pillow early whilst Morts and I sit infront of the bbq, which later turns into an inferno, burning anything we can find. It becomes a late night. 22nd September 2004 Up to a headache and an empty house. Morts & Ali have gone for a walk along the coast. I do the same and chase whales with my camera along the rocky coastline in front of the town. We leave at mid-morning and drive up into the wine region (possibly not the best thing to do after a big night on the wine!) through Stellenbosch, the second oldest town, after Cape Town, in SA, and stop in Ranger’s birthplace of Paarl. The town is surrounded by mountains and vineyards and is on the banks of the Berg River. We hunt down Ranger’s old home on Mill St., a beautiful old pink house with large trees in the gardens sloping down to the road. We do our first wine tasting at the Rhebokskloof vineyard, north of the town. For 8 Rand, the tasting is well worth and we also got to see the clinically clean fermenting and storage vats. Then onto a new vineyard called Vrede en Lust. Rather rosey cheeked, we drive on to the classic Winelands estate of Boschendal, tucked beneath huge mountains with its great architecture, food and wine. We have lunch in the tree-lined courtyard outside Le Café before tasting five wines of our choice in the tasting building on the other side of the estate. Morts & Ali buy a bottle to take back from each vineyard we visited. In Franschhoek, I drop them off at La Cabriere Country House where they will stay the night and head to a picnic area to possibly camp for the night. Unfortunately the gates are padlocked and the section of flattened barbed wire looked too risky. I drive to another campsite, recommended by the Tourist Info bloke earlier in the day, and camp in a super spot for only 25 Rand. I set up the tent and immediately start typing the update on the laptop, which has been neglected for over a week, briefly stopping for a healthy salad for dinner. I wrap things up and blow out the oil lamp at 10pm, retreating from the evening chill to the comfort of the rooftent. 23rd September 2004 I pick the others up from their hotel and drop them for a spot of horse riding while I kill some time round the few museums in town; the first so far on the trip! At midday we drive into damp city of Cape Town (or Kaapstad), a cloud lingering round the top of Table Mountain and Lions Head, and head straight for the tourist info centre. We have a much-needed lunch at the Waterfront, a bustling and atmospheric place full of shops and restaurants on the front of the working harbour. Ali wanders round the shops in search of knickers (?!) while Morts and I tuck into another pint. She returns in a bad mood after failing to find the specific white cotton ones! I drop them at their luxury accommodation, overlooking Camps Bay and find the Ashanti Lodge backpackers hoping to camp there. They have no camping for a car so direct me to Deco Lodge in Woodstock. I park up and chat to the owner, Johannes, over a beer. The place starts to fill up with more ‘permanent’ residents as I add to the update, typing on the kitchen work-surface. I play pool and chat to the others until Morts & Ali come through in a taxi, which takes us to the 7th Smirnoff Comedy Festival at the casino in Goodwood. We enjoy a wonderful Indian meal before attempting to get into the festival for some heckling and giggles – unfortunately the doors had closed forcing us to grab a taxi back to our separate accommodation. Torrential rain falls during the night. Distance travelled since London : 30, 900 kms |
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To see the pics, click here!-------> Photo Link! |
