We flew out of Durban, connected in Johannesburg for the flight to Dar Es Salaam, (aka Dar) Tanzania’s port city on the coast of the Indian Ocean. A 4.5 hour flight, we arrived at 7:30pm and it was as hot and humid inside the airport as it was out. The whole visa thing was a joke, 8 wickets with only 2 people serving a whole plane load of people. Took us an hour and 50USD each before we got out of there, fortunately our prearranged ride sent by the campsite where we were meeting up with our safari group, did not abandon us.
Wow, what a culture shock East Africa is so different compared to prim proper SAfrica. The night streets of Dar es Salaam was rundown, noisy, full of erratic traffic, horn honking and people everywhere. If you didn’t know where you were you’d think you were somewhere in the middle east. It was close to 10pm by the time we pulled in, and were met by our tour leader Malu , a lovely S.African woman who was staying in one of the campsite tents along with the others. Not quite ready to start pitching a tent, I had prebooked us into one of the beachfront cabanas about 200 paces down a very long sandy path. Primarily a backpackers retreat, we looked out of place dragging our non cooperative pull along luggage down the loose sandy trail leaving deep plow marks leading to our cabana.
Following our luggage trail, we were able to retrace our way to the main entrance where the bar was to meet up with Malu for a quick briefing and to meet the rest of the group. It turned out that this safari was 56 days long with various enter and exit points, and we were joining in on day 42. At this point, the group had dwindled down to 13 from 28 which meant there was sufficient room in the truck for our tourist size luggage next to all the backpacks. We had known that this safari was a grass roots version for all ages, but we were surprised to see that with exception to Malu who is 42, they were all in their mid 20s. Roy figured if he doubled the eldest’s age, he would still be older, followed very closely by me! The plan was to meet at the truck for camp style breakfast at 7, then head to the ferry in Dar to go over to Zanzibar for 3 nights. Recommendation from Malu to us was to ditch the wheeled luggage and just take what we needed for the 4 days in a carryon. Good advice!
After a hot and sweaty rather, sweaty, sleepless night in the ginormous netted platform bed, we were awakened for the last time at 5am by the distant Islamic “call to prayer” chant. I managed to rearrange our gear into a carryon and off we headed down the sandy trail leaving yet another plow mark behind us. We went into the campsite where breakfast making was in full swing, headed by the cook Moses and assisted by the others. It was obvious that the group had been travelling together for awhile given the organized manner of slicing and dicing, dishwashing, setup and tear down. Every person has a rotational chore based upon their designated animal name. One day, Jackels are sou-chefs, whereas Lions have dishes duty and Monkeys will clean the interior of the truck. After breakfast and clean up, all gear is packed into the military style truck fondly called “Tilly” who would drive us only as far as the ferry in Dar, and would remain there (with the unecessary luggage) until our return from Zanzibar in 4 days.
Zanzibar island is about 40k off the coast and is a 2 hour foot passenger ferry ride. Although part of Tanzania, the island has arms length independence which means they require all foreigners to have enter and exit stamps so we arrived 1.5 hours earlier so Malu could deal with the authorities on our behalf. We had an hour to kill in Dar, which in the daylight was worse than what we’d seen the night before. Could have been just the area we were in, but given the heat, all we managed to check out was the nearest ATM and a store for bottled water then quickly head back to hide under the designated meeting point tree for 45 minutes until sailing time. Predominantly an Islamic culture, all women are required to cover our shoulders in public and the additional shrowding, although with just a sheer shawl, made it even hotter for me. How they do it I don’t know. Roy too was perspiring profusely, so much so that when we returned from the 15 minute ATM walk, he had to change out of his sweat stained grey Tshirt under the tree. Looked like he’d been working in the fields all day.
Embarking on the ferry was like a cattle call, people from all walks of life, even a young man dressed in a traditional Masai tribal outfit all racing for the best of the 120 forward facing theater style seats on the economy deck. To keep us entertained, the TVs along the front quite appropriately played the old 60s movie, Born to be Wild, followed by Mr. Bean episodes. The one thing we’ve noticed during our travels is that no matter how primitive the surroundings or appearance, most everyone has a cell phone.
Zanzibar Island is 95% Islamic having originally been settled by Arabs. There we were met by a bus and dropped off at a hotel in Stone Town where everyone else was staying for one night only before heading up to the north coast for the other 2 nights. Since the Zanzibar portion wasn’t part of the prepaid tour, I had decided that we would spend all the time up the north coast area called Nungwi just so that we could stay put for 3 nights. Based on the reviews on Trip Adviser, I decided against the hotel the rest would be staying at (more hostel like) and booked us at a “resort” about 10 minutes away. After an hour taxi ride through some incredible road side Swahili & Arabic villages made of red clay, we checked into our thatched roof cabana at Tanzanite Beach Resort where at first, it appeared we were the only guests. Odd we thought, maybe the others are out exploring. Anxious to cool off, as fast as we could get our bathing suits on we were down at the water only to find that we were on a coral reef not sand. Good thing I brought aqua sox, but the coral was too slippery to walk on so we had to go down the shore about 5 minutes to find sand. I guess “beach resort” doesn’t mean “sandy beach resort”. But, believe it or not, the water was actually too warm, 28/29, absolutely nothing refreshing about it to the point that all it did was wet you to allow the breeze to cool you down when you got out. As well as being deserted, we were disappointed to discover the place didn’t have a pool, but best not to complain we decided, it was otherwise a beautiful setting. At dinner 4 tables had been set up on the sand next to an ambient burning fire pit, then soon after, all 5 other guests showed up. True to our experience thus far, being European they kept to themselves despite Roy’s efforts to make conversation.
Next morning we decided to rent a scooter or a motorcycle and go explore the island. Reception obviously made arrangements through a local who was merely renting out his own bike, and between an assortment of issues including the gas tank being empty and the chain needing to be tightened it took 4 hours before we actually got on the road with the not exactly built for two, 250cc dirt bike (which turned out to be a good thing). We had to pick it up in the area where the rest of the group was staying, so we got to check out the location I didn’t choose based on “hostel” rating. Whereas our spot was eerily void of people, had no beach or pool and really really bad overcooked food, theirs had a beautiful sandy beach, several eateries, 24 hr beach bar, merchants, water sports, and lots of people milling about. Although there were other places to stay, true to the ratings, I’m glad I hadn’t booked where the others were staying.
We ended up putting on 80k travelling (which our butts severely paid for) along some intense one lane paths of heavy sand through several tiny villages of a dozen or more dwellings tucked in between tourist accommodations. People were very friendly, mostly dressed in traditional Islamic attire, children waving and shouting out either “Jambon” or “Ola” both a greeting in Swahili. The only unfortunate part of the day was not being able to take any photos of the people or their surroundings because of the Islamic belief that you take away their soul. Even the cop who set up a block to check for drivers licences wouldn’t let me take his picture, and when I pulled out my camera to take a picture of Roy helping push out a truck stuck in mud, two little kids next to me who thought I was going to take their picture, had waived No to me.
On the drive back to our non-resort, we stopped in at the one next to us called Ras Nungwi. Here we were looking like a pair of rif-raf coming in from a day of dirt biking all dusty and sweaty, but they let us in regardless. Now this was a real resort – lots of guests, a sandy beach and wonderful pool that I very quickly helped myself to while we had a couple of drinks poolside to whet our sandy whistle. We contemplated coming back for a real nice dinner on our last night, but once back at our place we felt guilty as it looked like they were down to only 2 couples remaining. But it turned out that 5 more had checked in – a group from California working as consultants to improve fisheries in Zanzibar, which meant we probably wouldn’t have been missed.
Our last day, Roy booked us for a 9am dive so we gingerly hopped onto the bike after breakfast and headed over to party central where most people were just going to bed. At the last moment I decided not to join in on the dive, to make it my one, undisturbed beach day. As it turned out, Roy didn’t rate the dives very high and told me how they had lost one guy who had surfaced early due to ear problems but when the rest came up he was nowhere to be found! Apparently he didn’t see the boat when he surfaced and the current drifted him away so much so that he couldn’t be seen. Fortunately another dive boat in the area saw him bobbing around and picked him up and returned him to safety.
We thoroughly enjoyed our very short time on Zanzibar and wished we’d had more time, especially to do the hour plus drive back down the coast to tour Stone Town, which everyone does upon arrival. But alas we met up with the group next morning for the drive through the town we didn’t see back to the ferry for the mainland. Once at the ferry I had discovered that I inadvertently threw away the ticket Malu gave us on the way there thinking it was one way not return. Because she had to deal with immigration once again on behalf of the entire group, chances were that there wouldn’t be enough time to get us new tickets since they aren’t bought at the ferry, but at an office 4 blocks away. Worse comes to worse we’d have to handle it ourselves take a later ferry and find our own way back to the campsite in Dar. To start the ball rolling, I talked to several ferry officials who were talking on their cells to other officials, all trying to find the ships manifest that would confirm return passage had been paid by Malu on our arrival day. After 40 minutes of passport shuffling and phone calls, they still didn’t have confirmation but they let us on just as the horn was blowing. One good thing about being the last ones on we got to sit upstairs in first class for an extra $20, no different than economy, just half the people, this time all watching the movie Congo .
So back at the same campsite where we first arrived, again we upgraded to the cabana again but this time we didn’t drag the roll along luggage through the sandy trail, just left them in “Tilly” and worked out of the carryon instead. But we laughed to see remnants of our first plow marks still marking the way.
It was a 5 am wake up call, and on the road by 6 for what turned out to be a brutal 12 hour ride to Arusha with one toilet break in the morning and a road side lunch. To keep things fair, there was a pre established order to where you sat on the truck. Every day you rotate 2 rows and with the group having dwindled to half its size, all those who joined long before us now had a row to themselves, (except for us), and were promptly asleep within 2 minutes of departure and pretty much throughout the whole trip. Whilst bobbing around 2 rows from the back of the bus we managed to see Tanzania pass by which is predominantly rich red soil farm land of sisal, wheat, corn, rice and coffee interspersed with towns and villages. A few hours after passing Mt Kilimanjaro whose top half was covered in cloud and therefore unseen, we finally arrived at a Masai campsite called Snake Park just pass Arusha, for our 1st official night of sleeping in a tent. We got there just at dark so setting up the tent was a bit of a fumble act, but we managed to get it up in time for Roy to assist Moses in making dinner. He was on salad duty, which was quite comical since he’d never used a vegie peeler before! After dinner Roy went to the campsite bar with the others in an attempt to try and bond with the group whereas I was bagged from that 12 hour ride and hit the tent soon after dinner. It was going to be another busy morning and I wanted to get some serious shut eye.
Next day we weren’t hitting the road until after lunch, so we all went into the town of Arusha for banking and grocery shopping for personal munchies and water. Malu gave us an hour and we spent the entire time scouring ATMs that would give us money and a bank that would cash travelers cheques. After 45 minutes in a bank line up and 5 minutes before our time was up, I finally get up to the teller who informs me she can’t cash them without the original purchase receipt, which of course I didn’t have with me because according to the instructions it was to be kept in a separate location. Meanwhile Roy found a machine that worked for his debit card raced back to the truck to tell them to pick me up along road side, which they did. Banking system in Africa is quite different, not all banks accept travelers cheques and ATMs are usually designated either Visa or MC but not both.
We arrived back at the campsite just in time for lunch and to take a peek at the Masai auction that was being held in an open arena next to the campsite. Masai people are strictly herds people/shepherds tending to their cattle only. They eat only red meat from domesticated animals, consider the ground sacred and therefore do not cultivate. So what they do once a week is bring their prized cow or goat out to the auction, and with the money buy the other necessities of life. The auction was quite a sight – thousands of Masai and livestock all milling about. Between the campsite and the arena there were a few huts with a Masai woman sitting outside one selling her wares. I asked permission to take her picture, which I could for a dollar, as well as having to go into her boutique hut. Masai is another group who do not like their picture being taken, so I was glad to have had the opportunity.
After a quick peek at the auction we ran back to take down our tent as we were about to be picked up by Land Cruisers to go to the Noronogoro Crater and Serengeti. Only half the group was going to both destinations, so we were in two six seaters with pop up roofs designed for game viewing. It was a 3 hour drive down a rich red dirt road to the campsite in Karatu on the edge of the Norongoro Crater. It was a lovely campsite, nice restaurant, bar, internet room, beautiful grounds, hot showers, and our group of 13 had the whole place to ourselves. Next morning was going to be a 6 am departure to be inside the crater for the morning game drive so Roy and I retreated back to our tent just before 9 pm to the distant sound of African drums. What a nice way to be lulled to sleep I thought, only to find out in the morning that it was live music and dance show not a CD playing from the bar! Everyone else was there except for us, being the old folks who go to bed early. Definitely a case of ‘you snooze you lose’!
Next posting: Norongoro Crater, Serengeti, Nairobi and Masai Mara
Til then,
KnR
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Week 2
Week 2
It poured rain throughout our last night in KNYSNA, and was cool with gloomy grey drizzle on the morning drive to TSITSIKAMMA , short trip of about 100ks. Tsitsikamma is known as the garden of the garden route, because of its 68 km stretch that is covered in large tracts of indigenous primeval rainforest, and Fynbos (low laying coastal shrubs and proteas). Main attraction is the National Park and abundance of nature hikes, one of which runs 60 km from Storms River to the Indian Ocean and takes 5 days to complete.
We stayed in the village that has 3 merchants, 2 eateries, an adventure center, a few spa like B&Bs, and the Protea Hotel where we were booked to stay. The Protea is SA’s national flower after which the hotel chain throughout SA is named. This location wasn’t typical hotel style, but a white walled property with gazebo entrances and clusters of 2 storey wooden chalets and cabins amidst a wonderful garden. Almost like a village within a village. The place was deserted when we first arrived so we thought there’d be no problem booking the canopy ride (zip line through the forest) and horseback riding as well. But the canopy ride was pre-booked (2 bus loads of Korean tourists were about to arrive) and apparently the horse rides are cancelled when raining. So we just did the 2k hike through the hilly rainforest that, much to our surprise, was totally void of any signs of wildlife. Kinda odd for a nature reserve when the only wildlife noises you hear are coming from the human with me!
Next morning, much to our surprise, the sun was shining bright, a perfect day for a 9 am canopy ride We were the only ones at that hour, I guess it was too early for other tourists or they all went the day before. As apprehensive as I was, the experience was pretty anticlimactic although quite enjoyable zipping through the fresh smelling forest from tree to tree like a monkey.
Before heading out on the road, we went to the National Park that encompasses a marine reserve of 80k long coastline, a 1k hike to the suspension bridge over the Storms River (which we did) and magnificent forests that edge the mix of sand and sharp rocky coastline. Upon closer look of the rocks, Roy informed me that the sharp vertical plates of rock were actually flat laying sedimentary rocks that at some point in time, the plates shifted and pushed the rocks upwards onto their edges. They were quite an amazing sight actually, almost prehistoric.
After a 185km drive we arrived in PORT ELIZABETH, situated in Nelson Mandela Bay, the 3rd largest port and 5th largest city in SA, often referred to as the Friendly City, and the most budget friendly. Can’t imagine it being any cheaper than what we’d experienced thus far. Despite not having a city map and having deviated from the point A to B driving instructions wed been given so Roy could see if PE airport had anything of interest (which it didn’t) we arrived at the 5th Avenue Guest House on Marine without getting lost. It was an absolutely lovely courtyard English manor with 22 rooms and pool, owned and operated by a couple who lived next door and 8 full time staff. The wife, Anthea, a was quite a bubbly and very talkative character, so much so that within 5 minutes of our arrival she had told us how she’s Methodist, her husband Jewish and they were going to Utah for the wedding of their 25 year old chef daughter whose marrying a Mormon whom she had met last year after breaking up with her then boyfriend while travelling in the US and went on to work as live-in chef in a family home who introduced her to a church elder who had a grandson looking for a wife. Hmm, Fundamentalists was the first thing that crossed my mind, but apparently not. That was the first of many chats we had with Anthea, thereafter Roy had tried to steer clear of her as to not engage in never ending conversations. Her husband was quite like Roy, a big kid with bikes, has a glider and other toys, but not a man of many words, not surprisingly!
After tearing ourselves away from Anthea, we decided on a quick walk along the water front to take in some Port Elizabeth sights. The wind however, was so strong , around 70km Roy guestimated, that it was impossible to move, so we high tailed it back to the guest house, sneaking in without being seen by Anthea!
The unfortunate part of this pre-booked kind of travel schedule where you arrive in the afternoon and leave the next day, is that you don’t get the time to see anything which was the case in Port Elizabeth. But, that’s OK, we’re here to see and experience ethnic Africa, not yet another British dominate city. Frankly I’m ready to abandon cups and saucers, traditional English breakfasts, which Roy thoroughly indulges in every morning, and chips with everything. Fish and chip, lamb chops and chips, curried lamb and chips, sandwiches and chips, calamari and chips, and he wonders why his belly isn’t getting any smaller! Mind you I shouldn’t point the finger, I have my own indulgences.
We left the clutches of Anthea, and for the first time in our east bound coastal drive, we headed north/north east into a town called ALICEDALE in the Addo Elephant Park area, about 90 minutes from PE. After a 17k trip down a dirt road we arrived at our destination BUSHMAN SANDS, that, much to our surprise is a new hotel, golf course, game reserve in the middle of a small African town. We were pre booked for a 4:30 game drive which gave us a few hours to chill, Roy to eat, and me to lounge around poolside for the first time since we started this trip.
The 2 hour game drive was quite the adventure. Once again, there was just the two of us, in the open topped safari truck driven by our guide Brian. It was a very hilly and bumpy course but within 100 yards of entering the game reserve, there were the elephants, who apparently Brian said, have been quite elusive of late. Must be the lucky people from Canada he said. Chances are he says that to everyone! Further on into the bumpy journey he pointed out various flora, one intriguing one they call Uphobia, whose long green strands contain a poisonous milky substance that in old times hunters used to poison their arrows with. We also saw zebras, giraffes, rhinos, wart hogs, amazing hip high termite hills – and a few drops of rain as well. Then, with 45 minutes left in the 2 hour drive, the sky opened up, thunder, lightning and torrential downpour. Brian had brought along light weight nylon lined canvas ponchos, just in case it rained, but within 10 minutes they were soaked right through that the nylon lining stuck to your skin. Fortunately we had ball caps on to somewhat protect our faces from the pelting rain while driving, but I felt so sad for Brian trying to maneuver the roads in rain covered glasses. We three were quite the sight when we arrived back at the resort, from the gate staff to concierge they were all laughing at us. Needless to say we gave Brian a big tip ($20) for perseverance.
Although the rain wreaked havoc on us tourists, it was much needed by the area as a severe drought had cause extreme water shortages and drying up of dams. So all in all it was a good thing to have happen and an experience we’re not soon to forget.
Next day, 300k drive ahead of us. One thing we noticed since leaving Port Elizabeth is that we are now travelling through areas that are no longer Afrikaans/Dutch named, but all very British. About 50ks into the drive we stopped in a major town called GRAHAMSTOWN to buy some camera batteries. Its history is that originally settled by 4500 Brits whose intentions were to farm the lush foothills, but they preferred urban life instead and the town became the second largest artisan area next to Cape Town. We drove down Georgian and Victorian period streets, neat as a pin but not a pale face in sight, when all of a sudden we were distracted by groups of really tall young white people out for a run. When the crowd cleared we discovered ourselves approaching a massive Rhodes University smack dab in the middle of the town.
Back on the road with batteries in hand, the highway passes though another British settled town called KING WILLIAMS TOWN, (which was pretty run down and no visible integration) then onto the next town of BUTTERWORTH, a name that brought on the comforting image of Mrs Butterworth’s syrup. Wrong image! The 2 lane highway slowly passes through the several non working street lights of the dirtiest, urban shanty town imaginable. Tipped over trash cans with garbage piled high all over the street corners, bars on windows and people glaring at us as we drive through. The intimidation I feel is due to the fact that we really haven’t determined how the blacks feel after apartheid. Do they embrace their white neighbours and happy travelers just passing through, or is there unspoken resentment lurking below the surface?
Happy that we’re outta there and didn’t need to stop for gas, we continue on the now rainy drive through never ending lush rolling hills of farm land dotted with clusters of aboriginal communities with brightly painted concrete small bungalows and thatched roof round houses. Often you’d see a group of buildings all in the same color, which we figured to be when the family had built more within their property, they kept to the same color scheme, like a familial identifier.
Shortly before our turn off to the day’s destination of HAGA HAGA, I had asked Roy how the gas situation was, to which he replied was “fine”. But, no sooner did we turn off onto the dirt road that said we had 24k to go, the gas light came on. No worries Roy said, surely there’ll be gas somewhere down there. Well, no such luck, Haga Haga was a dead end road with a dozen houses and the lodge we were staying at. Even a desperate plea to the proprietors to buy some of their weed eater fuel didn’t work. Roy referred to the car manual and given the road conditions and distance, he figured we could just about make it back to the highway. If not, he’d wear his runners so he could run there. Great, leave me behind on a dirt road!
Not much happens in Haga Haga, it was pouring rain, but we had a nice cabana and deck, there was a great Saturday night buffet and a bar filled with, as usual, vacationing S.Africans glued to the TV watching rugby. We’ve noticed that people pretty much stick to themselves and don’t go out of their way to socialize, but after dinner Roy befriended a 10 year old boy playing pool so he was happy to have a playmate!
In the morning we took off up and down the gravel road and much to my amazement and Roy’s relief we made it to the unadvertised local hangout/run down store with a gas pump across the highway in the middle of a wooded secluded area that went nowhere. Back on the road again, I happened to notice a little airport, the first that we’ve seen on the trip because recreational flying is not an African pastime. Roy makes a U-turn and we drive up to the gates of this modern looking terminal and tower, huge parking lot with not a single car in it. Out back, 5 flight school Cherokees and one instructor walking around aimlessly. Apparently it was built as a public airport but was never used and is now only a flight school, primarily for training SA air force pilots. Odd the place was built in the first place, because there’s nowhere to go once you’re there anyways. By the looks of it people from King Wiliams Town and Butterworth are not air travelers nor tourist destination points!
Driving in the rain and intermittent fog was taking its toll on Roy so about halfway I took over. The highway has pretty much been a 2 laner, 80 – 100K with cattle and people crossing from one side to the other for who knows what reason considering there’s only pasture and rolling hills. As we approached a town called DUTYWA we saw that both sides of the road was jam packed with double parked 12 passenger vans and people everywhere. As we got into the town center, traffic was down to one lane, almost a grinding halt as we see a massive banner toting, fist shaking, chanting crowd of 100s marching down the street towards us. Again no road blocks, this time the car in front disappears into the crowd not smoke, and now I’ve got the car at a dead stop as we are swallowed up with people all around us. Oh my gosh what are we into now! Turns out it was merely a political party rally running in the upcoming election, not white tourist lynching day! We made it through without a dent or scratch, but Roy said he heard one guy who peered in the window call me “creamy”. Was that a racial slur?
We finally make it to UMNAGAZI river after more long dirt roads littered with loitering livestock and the odd monkey swinging by. And wow, what surprise - the accommodation is yet another resort spa, this time in an oasis jungle, with gorgeous thatched roofed cabanas and outbuildings overlooking the river flowing into the ocean. Swimming pool, tennis court, boats, you name it they had it. Too bad it was pouring rain though, and that I was coming down with the chills and waves of pain in the pit of my stomach. So down and out I am for the night leaving Roy to wander around and dine on his own.
Next morning the sun was glorious and we managed a walk around the beautiful property before having to sadly check out. Chills were gone but the stomach was still wrenching so I was glad our next stop was only 20k away in PORT ST JOHN. More dirt roads with livestock, we arrive at the log cabin facility on beautifully manicured grounds along the Zambezi shark infested river that runs into the ocean. Apparently they hang around the mouth of the river and come upstream to give birth. The proprietor told us about a fatality a few weeks back (we heard about that in Cape Town) and that he often sees cows floating down the river! Needless to say we won’t be doing any river boating or water skiing.
After checking in, we went into town on the opposite side of the shark infested river and wound our way up to an old airstrip on the plateau of the 800 meter mountain where I managed to step close to the sheer drop off edge to take a picture of our place across the river below. On the way back we drove along the towns beach front and saw the oddest sight of cattle laying on the raised sandbar between the racing river and the pounding ocean. Who would’ve thought cows like the beach.
Although the pre arranged accommodations and destinations have been great, I must say the organizer chose sedentary locations ideal for lounging and reading, not for a Type A personality type. That, in conjunction with the rain, me being under the weather, and people generally keeping to themselves, Roy is almost going stir crazy. So much so, that I found him counting the rows of straw in the placemat! Have no fear I told him, 2 more sleeps and we’ll be travelling and tenting with 25 people on safari.
Our last day on the road was about 3.5 hours back to the coast via the secondary road from Port St John that several people advised us not to take. Too many small towns and potential problems apparently. Well, to add excitement to Roy’s day he said we should drive it anyways. Well it turned out to be the most enjoyable trip. More endless rolling lush green hills dotted with colorful villages as far as the eye could see. One really ethnic town we went through was FLAGSTAFF, it was clean and bustling with road side merchants, people smiling at us, waving and all. I really would have loved to get out of the car and mingle about with the locals taking pictures and such, but the confidence just wasn’t there being the only “creamy” around!
So we are at our last S.African destination of SHELLEY BEACH, about an hour away from DURBAN. There is still so much to see in SA and we wished we’d had more time for exploring and to have continued the drive up to Johannesburg. With so many destinations in a 10 day drive, it’s all ready just a blur at times which is why this journal-cum-book, will come in handy as the memory fades even more!
Next stop –Tanzania, til next week,
KnR
It poured rain throughout our last night in KNYSNA, and was cool with gloomy grey drizzle on the morning drive to TSITSIKAMMA , short trip of about 100ks. Tsitsikamma is known as the garden of the garden route, because of its 68 km stretch that is covered in large tracts of indigenous primeval rainforest, and Fynbos (low laying coastal shrubs and proteas). Main attraction is the National Park and abundance of nature hikes, one of which runs 60 km from Storms River to the Indian Ocean and takes 5 days to complete.
We stayed in the village that has 3 merchants, 2 eateries, an adventure center, a few spa like B&Bs, and the Protea Hotel where we were booked to stay. The Protea is SA’s national flower after which the hotel chain throughout SA is named. This location wasn’t typical hotel style, but a white walled property with gazebo entrances and clusters of 2 storey wooden chalets and cabins amidst a wonderful garden. Almost like a village within a village. The place was deserted when we first arrived so we thought there’d be no problem booking the canopy ride (zip line through the forest) and horseback riding as well. But the canopy ride was pre-booked (2 bus loads of Korean tourists were about to arrive) and apparently the horse rides are cancelled when raining. So we just did the 2k hike through the hilly rainforest that, much to our surprise, was totally void of any signs of wildlife. Kinda odd for a nature reserve when the only wildlife noises you hear are coming from the human with me!
Next morning, much to our surprise, the sun was shining bright, a perfect day for a 9 am canopy ride We were the only ones at that hour, I guess it was too early for other tourists or they all went the day before. As apprehensive as I was, the experience was pretty anticlimactic although quite enjoyable zipping through the fresh smelling forest from tree to tree like a monkey.
Before heading out on the road, we went to the National Park that encompasses a marine reserve of 80k long coastline, a 1k hike to the suspension bridge over the Storms River (which we did) and magnificent forests that edge the mix of sand and sharp rocky coastline. Upon closer look of the rocks, Roy informed me that the sharp vertical plates of rock were actually flat laying sedimentary rocks that at some point in time, the plates shifted and pushed the rocks upwards onto their edges. They were quite an amazing sight actually, almost prehistoric.
After a 185km drive we arrived in PORT ELIZABETH, situated in Nelson Mandela Bay, the 3rd largest port and 5th largest city in SA, often referred to as the Friendly City, and the most budget friendly. Can’t imagine it being any cheaper than what we’d experienced thus far. Despite not having a city map and having deviated from the point A to B driving instructions wed been given so Roy could see if PE airport had anything of interest (which it didn’t) we arrived at the 5th Avenue Guest House on Marine without getting lost. It was an absolutely lovely courtyard English manor with 22 rooms and pool, owned and operated by a couple who lived next door and 8 full time staff. The wife, Anthea, a was quite a bubbly and very talkative character, so much so that within 5 minutes of our arrival she had told us how she’s Methodist, her husband Jewish and they were going to Utah for the wedding of their 25 year old chef daughter whose marrying a Mormon whom she had met last year after breaking up with her then boyfriend while travelling in the US and went on to work as live-in chef in a family home who introduced her to a church elder who had a grandson looking for a wife. Hmm, Fundamentalists was the first thing that crossed my mind, but apparently not. That was the first of many chats we had with Anthea, thereafter Roy had tried to steer clear of her as to not engage in never ending conversations. Her husband was quite like Roy, a big kid with bikes, has a glider and other toys, but not a man of many words, not surprisingly!
After tearing ourselves away from Anthea, we decided on a quick walk along the water front to take in some Port Elizabeth sights. The wind however, was so strong , around 70km Roy guestimated, that it was impossible to move, so we high tailed it back to the guest house, sneaking in without being seen by Anthea!
The unfortunate part of this pre-booked kind of travel schedule where you arrive in the afternoon and leave the next day, is that you don’t get the time to see anything which was the case in Port Elizabeth. But, that’s OK, we’re here to see and experience ethnic Africa, not yet another British dominate city. Frankly I’m ready to abandon cups and saucers, traditional English breakfasts, which Roy thoroughly indulges in every morning, and chips with everything. Fish and chip, lamb chops and chips, curried lamb and chips, sandwiches and chips, calamari and chips, and he wonders why his belly isn’t getting any smaller! Mind you I shouldn’t point the finger, I have my own indulgences.
We left the clutches of Anthea, and for the first time in our east bound coastal drive, we headed north/north east into a town called ALICEDALE in the Addo Elephant Park area, about 90 minutes from PE. After a 17k trip down a dirt road we arrived at our destination BUSHMAN SANDS, that, much to our surprise is a new hotel, golf course, game reserve in the middle of a small African town. We were pre booked for a 4:30 game drive which gave us a few hours to chill, Roy to eat, and me to lounge around poolside for the first time since we started this trip.
The 2 hour game drive was quite the adventure. Once again, there was just the two of us, in the open topped safari truck driven by our guide Brian. It was a very hilly and bumpy course but within 100 yards of entering the game reserve, there were the elephants, who apparently Brian said, have been quite elusive of late. Must be the lucky people from Canada he said. Chances are he says that to everyone! Further on into the bumpy journey he pointed out various flora, one intriguing one they call Uphobia, whose long green strands contain a poisonous milky substance that in old times hunters used to poison their arrows with. We also saw zebras, giraffes, rhinos, wart hogs, amazing hip high termite hills – and a few drops of rain as well. Then, with 45 minutes left in the 2 hour drive, the sky opened up, thunder, lightning and torrential downpour. Brian had brought along light weight nylon lined canvas ponchos, just in case it rained, but within 10 minutes they were soaked right through that the nylon lining stuck to your skin. Fortunately we had ball caps on to somewhat protect our faces from the pelting rain while driving, but I felt so sad for Brian trying to maneuver the roads in rain covered glasses. We three were quite the sight when we arrived back at the resort, from the gate staff to concierge they were all laughing at us. Needless to say we gave Brian a big tip ($20) for perseverance.
Although the rain wreaked havoc on us tourists, it was much needed by the area as a severe drought had cause extreme water shortages and drying up of dams. So all in all it was a good thing to have happen and an experience we’re not soon to forget.
Next day, 300k drive ahead of us. One thing we noticed since leaving Port Elizabeth is that we are now travelling through areas that are no longer Afrikaans/Dutch named, but all very British. About 50ks into the drive we stopped in a major town called GRAHAMSTOWN to buy some camera batteries. Its history is that originally settled by 4500 Brits whose intentions were to farm the lush foothills, but they preferred urban life instead and the town became the second largest artisan area next to Cape Town. We drove down Georgian and Victorian period streets, neat as a pin but not a pale face in sight, when all of a sudden we were distracted by groups of really tall young white people out for a run. When the crowd cleared we discovered ourselves approaching a massive Rhodes University smack dab in the middle of the town.
Back on the road with batteries in hand, the highway passes though another British settled town called KING WILLIAMS TOWN, (which was pretty run down and no visible integration) then onto the next town of BUTTERWORTH, a name that brought on the comforting image of Mrs Butterworth’s syrup. Wrong image! The 2 lane highway slowly passes through the several non working street lights of the dirtiest, urban shanty town imaginable. Tipped over trash cans with garbage piled high all over the street corners, bars on windows and people glaring at us as we drive through. The intimidation I feel is due to the fact that we really haven’t determined how the blacks feel after apartheid. Do they embrace their white neighbours and happy travelers just passing through, or is there unspoken resentment lurking below the surface?
Happy that we’re outta there and didn’t need to stop for gas, we continue on the now rainy drive through never ending lush rolling hills of farm land dotted with clusters of aboriginal communities with brightly painted concrete small bungalows and thatched roof round houses. Often you’d see a group of buildings all in the same color, which we figured to be when the family had built more within their property, they kept to the same color scheme, like a familial identifier.
Shortly before our turn off to the day’s destination of HAGA HAGA, I had asked Roy how the gas situation was, to which he replied was “fine”. But, no sooner did we turn off onto the dirt road that said we had 24k to go, the gas light came on. No worries Roy said, surely there’ll be gas somewhere down there. Well, no such luck, Haga Haga was a dead end road with a dozen houses and the lodge we were staying at. Even a desperate plea to the proprietors to buy some of their weed eater fuel didn’t work. Roy referred to the car manual and given the road conditions and distance, he figured we could just about make it back to the highway. If not, he’d wear his runners so he could run there. Great, leave me behind on a dirt road!
Not much happens in Haga Haga, it was pouring rain, but we had a nice cabana and deck, there was a great Saturday night buffet and a bar filled with, as usual, vacationing S.Africans glued to the TV watching rugby. We’ve noticed that people pretty much stick to themselves and don’t go out of their way to socialize, but after dinner Roy befriended a 10 year old boy playing pool so he was happy to have a playmate!
In the morning we took off up and down the gravel road and much to my amazement and Roy’s relief we made it to the unadvertised local hangout/run down store with a gas pump across the highway in the middle of a wooded secluded area that went nowhere. Back on the road again, I happened to notice a little airport, the first that we’ve seen on the trip because recreational flying is not an African pastime. Roy makes a U-turn and we drive up to the gates of this modern looking terminal and tower, huge parking lot with not a single car in it. Out back, 5 flight school Cherokees and one instructor walking around aimlessly. Apparently it was built as a public airport but was never used and is now only a flight school, primarily for training SA air force pilots. Odd the place was built in the first place, because there’s nowhere to go once you’re there anyways. By the looks of it people from King Wiliams Town and Butterworth are not air travelers nor tourist destination points!
Driving in the rain and intermittent fog was taking its toll on Roy so about halfway I took over. The highway has pretty much been a 2 laner, 80 – 100K with cattle and people crossing from one side to the other for who knows what reason considering there’s only pasture and rolling hills. As we approached a town called DUTYWA we saw that both sides of the road was jam packed with double parked 12 passenger vans and people everywhere. As we got into the town center, traffic was down to one lane, almost a grinding halt as we see a massive banner toting, fist shaking, chanting crowd of 100s marching down the street towards us. Again no road blocks, this time the car in front disappears into the crowd not smoke, and now I’ve got the car at a dead stop as we are swallowed up with people all around us. Oh my gosh what are we into now! Turns out it was merely a political party rally running in the upcoming election, not white tourist lynching day! We made it through without a dent or scratch, but Roy said he heard one guy who peered in the window call me “creamy”. Was that a racial slur?
We finally make it to UMNAGAZI river after more long dirt roads littered with loitering livestock and the odd monkey swinging by. And wow, what surprise - the accommodation is yet another resort spa, this time in an oasis jungle, with gorgeous thatched roofed cabanas and outbuildings overlooking the river flowing into the ocean. Swimming pool, tennis court, boats, you name it they had it. Too bad it was pouring rain though, and that I was coming down with the chills and waves of pain in the pit of my stomach. So down and out I am for the night leaving Roy to wander around and dine on his own.
Next morning the sun was glorious and we managed a walk around the beautiful property before having to sadly check out. Chills were gone but the stomach was still wrenching so I was glad our next stop was only 20k away in PORT ST JOHN. More dirt roads with livestock, we arrive at the log cabin facility on beautifully manicured grounds along the Zambezi shark infested river that runs into the ocean. Apparently they hang around the mouth of the river and come upstream to give birth. The proprietor told us about a fatality a few weeks back (we heard about that in Cape Town) and that he often sees cows floating down the river! Needless to say we won’t be doing any river boating or water skiing.
After checking in, we went into town on the opposite side of the shark infested river and wound our way up to an old airstrip on the plateau of the 800 meter mountain where I managed to step close to the sheer drop off edge to take a picture of our place across the river below. On the way back we drove along the towns beach front and saw the oddest sight of cattle laying on the raised sandbar between the racing river and the pounding ocean. Who would’ve thought cows like the beach.
Although the pre arranged accommodations and destinations have been great, I must say the organizer chose sedentary locations ideal for lounging and reading, not for a Type A personality type. That, in conjunction with the rain, me being under the weather, and people generally keeping to themselves, Roy is almost going stir crazy. So much so, that I found him counting the rows of straw in the placemat! Have no fear I told him, 2 more sleeps and we’ll be travelling and tenting with 25 people on safari.
Our last day on the road was about 3.5 hours back to the coast via the secondary road from Port St John that several people advised us not to take. Too many small towns and potential problems apparently. Well, to add excitement to Roy’s day he said we should drive it anyways. Well it turned out to be the most enjoyable trip. More endless rolling lush green hills dotted with colorful villages as far as the eye could see. One really ethnic town we went through was FLAGSTAFF, it was clean and bustling with road side merchants, people smiling at us, waving and all. I really would have loved to get out of the car and mingle about with the locals taking pictures and such, but the confidence just wasn’t there being the only “creamy” around!
So we are at our last S.African destination of SHELLEY BEACH, about an hour away from DURBAN. There is still so much to see in SA and we wished we’d had more time for exploring and to have continued the drive up to Johannesburg. With so many destinations in a 10 day drive, it’s all ready just a blur at times which is why this journal-cum-book, will come in handy as the memory fades even more!
Next stop –Tanzania, til next week,
KnR
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Week 1
Well, here is the first weekly installment. Please excuse the wordiness, my original intent of this blog has since changed to become a journal to save on duplicate writing. Read as much as you like, or just skip through.
The last leg from Amsterdam was brutal, 11 hours in a jam packed 777 where we were like proverbial sardines in a can. 3 more meals, 3 more movies (6 and 6 in less than 24hrs) arrived in Cape Town @ 10:30pm. The tour I had prearranged for the next two weeks is a called a Self-Drive. I told the organizer we had 2 weeks to drive from Cape Town to Durban (1600kms) and they chose the destinations and accommodations along the way. All we do is drive and show up. How easy is that!
Our first 3 days were in Cape Town, which is very British/Dutch, staying at a lovely English style Guest House/BB. First day we hopped on a topless tour bus to see the city and go up to Table Mountain for a gondola ride to the top. It was a magnificent view from up there; to the west, the city below on the Atlantic, and beyond, Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 27 years; to the south, Cape of Good Hope; and to the east, False Bay on the Indian Ocean. The west coast suburbs south of the city have some pretty high end sandy beach front strips with exclusive condos and houses, primarily vacation property for well to doers from Johannesburg and Europe. Prices range from $200K to $1M, about ¼ what we’d pay at home. By our standards, cost of living is quite cheap. We’re on day 7 now, and our dinner bill has not yet been over $30 including wine, although gas prices are about the same.
On our last day in Cape Town we did a full day guided tour to the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve and its diverse habitats. We visited a Jackass Penguin colony and stopped on the road side by a wind surfing spot to see a family of baboons sitting on top several of the surfer’s cars. Although they look like a friendly species, they are quite vicious and will grab your pack or purse to scavenge for sweets and fruit. Down at the Cape Point we stopped for a photo op and hiked up the rocky cliff 800 feet above sea level to the Cape of Good Hope. Another breathtaking view, where the volatile Atlantic and Indian oceans meet.
To end the day our guide had brought along bikes for those of us who wanted to cycle 15kms back to the park entrance. Given there was a 30kn wind, hot and lots of hills, I (being the smart one), opted to stick to the air cond bus, whereas Roy (who would pay for it later), took off with two others. Only one girl made it to the end, but a great effort by Roy who packed it in only 2 or 3 kms short due to the fact that the up hill head wind was too great!
To round off our last night, we went to this fabulous restaurant called Mama Africa’s that was highly recommended to me by a young SA guy working in Sport Check in Langley while Christmas shopping ! It was an African themed rustic restaurant bar on eclectic Long Street, whose entertainment rocked the place. The lead singer had a very unusual tenor voice and mesmerized us with shimmy shakes that rivaled the best Hula dancers and the ability isolate chest muscles to go with the beat of the music. An art form that Roy really wants me to learn!
Next morning our VW Polo (Golf with a trunk) arrived at the guest house for us to start our road journey. We haven’t far to go this day, only 100 kms north east to Franschhoek, which is wine country settled by the 200 French Huguenots who fled to SA in the 17th century to escape religious persecution. With them they brought seedlings and planted Africa’s first vineyard. Well, by the time we got there my nerves were frazzled from Roy’s left side driving. This is Australia all over again – every time a car in the opposite lane comes towards us, he pushes partway over onto the shoulder. It’s really distracting and annoying to say the least going down the highway with a yellow line in front of me! Mind you on highways the paved shoulders are quite wide and are intended to drive on to let people pass.
It was the hottest day so far, a good 40 degrees, and within 1 ½ hours of getting to Franschhoek where we had lunch and one wine tasting, Roy crashed and burned. We checked into our cottage at 2, he slept until 6:30, had the runs and felt over fatigued and chilled. So we determined that he had succumbed to sun stroke brought on by yesterday’s bike ride in the blazing sun and wind and today’s extreme heat. So here we are in the most amazing wine valley where tasting costs a mere $2.50 per person, and Roy’s down and out.
Each of the wineries has their own guest accommodations; we were booked at the Chamonix Winery which has six 1 or 2 bedroom cottages and a fine dining French restaurant. The little 5 block village strip has many high-end West Van style boutiques, sidewalk restaurants, artisans and of course, diamond stores galore, all catering to the wealthy tourist. Not Roy’s scene at all, but given his current state, I was able to stroll and window shop at my leisure!
That evening the heat of the day brought on an amazing thunder storm. Roy was still feeling bagged and didn’t want to stray too far from the loo, so we didn’t go out for dinner. Good thing, because the storm would have wreaked havoc on outside dining anyways whereas we were able to sit out on our little front porch and witness the lightening show under shelter. It only lasted about an hour or so, but several things happened as a result; the fragrance from the surrounding vineyards was amazing, the temperature went down, the humidity up and the mosquitoes came out! Hopefully they weren’t the malaria variety, because I did succumb to a couple of bites despite having repellent on. Guess it’s a wait and see deal now.
Next day, next stop southeastward bound to Mossel Bay, a 350km drive. Leaving the valley was very scenic and the first 50 km had a diverse geography – up onto mountain tops, down into fruit and farming belts, through scrub and plains, sheep farms and foothills. The highlight of the trip though, was off in the far distance we could see smoke and wondered what that was all about.
About an hour later, at a town called Riverdale, we realized we were heading right towards it and could see on the right where the field had been burning and noticed that the fire had jumped the 2 lane road. I was busy taking pictures of the flames on the left, when all of a sudden we find ourselves driving blindly in thick smoke and I look to Roy’s side to see flames 6 feet high on the shoulder beside him. Obviously the fire hadn’t jumped the road, it was in the middle of jumping, and now there were flames on both sides of us! We’re in thick smoke, lost sght of the car ahead of us, didn’t know what we were heading for and certainly couldn’t turn around either. All Roy could do was keep going and fortunately, maybe 200 feet later, we broke through to see the car in front of us, and a road block for oncoming traffic! Hey what about us going east? Where was our roadblock! The car could have blown up in there! Anyways, it was a rather tense 4 or 5 minutes to say the least, Roy’s biggest fear was us succumbing to smoke inhalation.
Pressing onwards, with the new car now smelling like it had been bought in a fire sale (reminded me of Shimmeron’s early days), we arrived at the lodge in Mossel Bay. It was a beautiful setting, and again, primarily a vacation spot that also caters to tourists. One thing we have noticed in our week here, we have yet to run across any North Americans - everyone is either from the UK or Eastern Europe!
Not much else happens in Mossel Bay, it has SA’s only north facing beach, the museum houses a full size replica of the of the Portuguese ship than landed 500 years ago and most excitably (at least for Roy) there’s an outfit called Shark Africa that offers the excitement of a shark cage dive – with Great Whites. He was eager to check it out, although somewhat reluctant because even though the top of the cage is practically at sea level lowered between the pontoons of a catamaran, the water below was 1100 meters deep and thoughts of the cable breaking that suspend the cage was going through his mind! As it turned out, the only available space was the next day at 2, which meant we wouldn’t get to our next destination until dark. Roy wasn’t keen on driving at night, so he passed on the shark dive.
Next day’s destination turned out to be only 100km away, the town of Kynsna, named after the vessel sailed here by the son of King George III. It is about 500 kms east of Cape Town, surrounded by a 17km long lagoon which is protected from the sea by two sandstone cliffs called the Knysna Heads. This is where we are at present for 2 nights, staying in a 1 bedroom condo in the heart of the quays (more shops & eateries) overlooking the canal waterway. As you can see from the pictures, we haven’t been roughing it by any means! I guess that’s yet to come.
We went to a dive shop at the Knysna Heads, but the dive circumstances didn’t thrill us. It was a wreck dive, give or take 2 meter visibility, Great Whites (which apparently don’t bother you) and a huge current. Nope, we’ll pass, save the diving for Zanzibar. But on the way there we did see a golf course and Roy eagerly decided to make a tee time.
Today is our first full overcast day – although pleasantly warm. Forecast is rain along the south eastern coast, the direction in which we are heading. Roy went off to play golf, so once again I have the opportunity to do touristy things around the Quays and surrounding area.
Next stop tomorrow – Tsitsikamma Reserve and a canopy ride/zip ride through the forest!
Til next week, KnR
The last leg from Amsterdam was brutal, 11 hours in a jam packed 777 where we were like proverbial sardines in a can. 3 more meals, 3 more movies (6 and 6 in less than 24hrs) arrived in Cape Town @ 10:30pm. The tour I had prearranged for the next two weeks is a called a Self-Drive. I told the organizer we had 2 weeks to drive from Cape Town to Durban (1600kms) and they chose the destinations and accommodations along the way. All we do is drive and show up. How easy is that!
Our first 3 days were in Cape Town, which is very British/Dutch, staying at a lovely English style Guest House/BB. First day we hopped on a topless tour bus to see the city and go up to Table Mountain for a gondola ride to the top. It was a magnificent view from up there; to the west, the city below on the Atlantic, and beyond, Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 27 years; to the south, Cape of Good Hope; and to the east, False Bay on the Indian Ocean. The west coast suburbs south of the city have some pretty high end sandy beach front strips with exclusive condos and houses, primarily vacation property for well to doers from Johannesburg and Europe. Prices range from $200K to $1M, about ¼ what we’d pay at home. By our standards, cost of living is quite cheap. We’re on day 7 now, and our dinner bill has not yet been over $30 including wine, although gas prices are about the same.
On our last day in Cape Town we did a full day guided tour to the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve and its diverse habitats. We visited a Jackass Penguin colony and stopped on the road side by a wind surfing spot to see a family of baboons sitting on top several of the surfer’s cars. Although they look like a friendly species, they are quite vicious and will grab your pack or purse to scavenge for sweets and fruit. Down at the Cape Point we stopped for a photo op and hiked up the rocky cliff 800 feet above sea level to the Cape of Good Hope. Another breathtaking view, where the volatile Atlantic and Indian oceans meet.
To end the day our guide had brought along bikes for those of us who wanted to cycle 15kms back to the park entrance. Given there was a 30kn wind, hot and lots of hills, I (being the smart one), opted to stick to the air cond bus, whereas Roy (who would pay for it later), took off with two others. Only one girl made it to the end, but a great effort by Roy who packed it in only 2 or 3 kms short due to the fact that the up hill head wind was too great!
To round off our last night, we went to this fabulous restaurant called Mama Africa’s that was highly recommended to me by a young SA guy working in Sport Check in Langley while Christmas shopping ! It was an African themed rustic restaurant bar on eclectic Long Street, whose entertainment rocked the place. The lead singer had a very unusual tenor voice and mesmerized us with shimmy shakes that rivaled the best Hula dancers and the ability isolate chest muscles to go with the beat of the music. An art form that Roy really wants me to learn!
Next morning our VW Polo (Golf with a trunk) arrived at the guest house for us to start our road journey. We haven’t far to go this day, only 100 kms north east to Franschhoek, which is wine country settled by the 200 French Huguenots who fled to SA in the 17th century to escape religious persecution. With them they brought seedlings and planted Africa’s first vineyard. Well, by the time we got there my nerves were frazzled from Roy’s left side driving. This is Australia all over again – every time a car in the opposite lane comes towards us, he pushes partway over onto the shoulder. It’s really distracting and annoying to say the least going down the highway with a yellow line in front of me! Mind you on highways the paved shoulders are quite wide and are intended to drive on to let people pass.
It was the hottest day so far, a good 40 degrees, and within 1 ½ hours of getting to Franschhoek where we had lunch and one wine tasting, Roy crashed and burned. We checked into our cottage at 2, he slept until 6:30, had the runs and felt over fatigued and chilled. So we determined that he had succumbed to sun stroke brought on by yesterday’s bike ride in the blazing sun and wind and today’s extreme heat. So here we are in the most amazing wine valley where tasting costs a mere $2.50 per person, and Roy’s down and out.
Each of the wineries has their own guest accommodations; we were booked at the Chamonix Winery which has six 1 or 2 bedroom cottages and a fine dining French restaurant. The little 5 block village strip has many high-end West Van style boutiques, sidewalk restaurants, artisans and of course, diamond stores galore, all catering to the wealthy tourist. Not Roy’s scene at all, but given his current state, I was able to stroll and window shop at my leisure!
That evening the heat of the day brought on an amazing thunder storm. Roy was still feeling bagged and didn’t want to stray too far from the loo, so we didn’t go out for dinner. Good thing, because the storm would have wreaked havoc on outside dining anyways whereas we were able to sit out on our little front porch and witness the lightening show under shelter. It only lasted about an hour or so, but several things happened as a result; the fragrance from the surrounding vineyards was amazing, the temperature went down, the humidity up and the mosquitoes came out! Hopefully they weren’t the malaria variety, because I did succumb to a couple of bites despite having repellent on. Guess it’s a wait and see deal now.
Next day, next stop southeastward bound to Mossel Bay, a 350km drive. Leaving the valley was very scenic and the first 50 km had a diverse geography – up onto mountain tops, down into fruit and farming belts, through scrub and plains, sheep farms and foothills. The highlight of the trip though, was off in the far distance we could see smoke and wondered what that was all about.
About an hour later, at a town called Riverdale, we realized we were heading right towards it and could see on the right where the field had been burning and noticed that the fire had jumped the 2 lane road. I was busy taking pictures of the flames on the left, when all of a sudden we find ourselves driving blindly in thick smoke and I look to Roy’s side to see flames 6 feet high on the shoulder beside him. Obviously the fire hadn’t jumped the road, it was in the middle of jumping, and now there were flames on both sides of us! We’re in thick smoke, lost sght of the car ahead of us, didn’t know what we were heading for and certainly couldn’t turn around either. All Roy could do was keep going and fortunately, maybe 200 feet later, we broke through to see the car in front of us, and a road block for oncoming traffic! Hey what about us going east? Where was our roadblock! The car could have blown up in there! Anyways, it was a rather tense 4 or 5 minutes to say the least, Roy’s biggest fear was us succumbing to smoke inhalation.
Pressing onwards, with the new car now smelling like it had been bought in a fire sale (reminded me of Shimmeron’s early days), we arrived at the lodge in Mossel Bay. It was a beautiful setting, and again, primarily a vacation spot that also caters to tourists. One thing we have noticed in our week here, we have yet to run across any North Americans - everyone is either from the UK or Eastern Europe!
Not much else happens in Mossel Bay, it has SA’s only north facing beach, the museum houses a full size replica of the of the Portuguese ship than landed 500 years ago and most excitably (at least for Roy) there’s an outfit called Shark Africa that offers the excitement of a shark cage dive – with Great Whites. He was eager to check it out, although somewhat reluctant because even though the top of the cage is practically at sea level lowered between the pontoons of a catamaran, the water below was 1100 meters deep and thoughts of the cable breaking that suspend the cage was going through his mind! As it turned out, the only available space was the next day at 2, which meant we wouldn’t get to our next destination until dark. Roy wasn’t keen on driving at night, so he passed on the shark dive.
Next day’s destination turned out to be only 100km away, the town of Kynsna, named after the vessel sailed here by the son of King George III. It is about 500 kms east of Cape Town, surrounded by a 17km long lagoon which is protected from the sea by two sandstone cliffs called the Knysna Heads. This is where we are at present for 2 nights, staying in a 1 bedroom condo in the heart of the quays (more shops & eateries) overlooking the canal waterway. As you can see from the pictures, we haven’t been roughing it by any means! I guess that’s yet to come.
We went to a dive shop at the Knysna Heads, but the dive circumstances didn’t thrill us. It was a wreck dive, give or take 2 meter visibility, Great Whites (which apparently don’t bother you) and a huge current. Nope, we’ll pass, save the diving for Zanzibar. But on the way there we did see a golf course and Roy eagerly decided to make a tee time.
Today is our first full overcast day – although pleasantly warm. Forecast is rain along the south eastern coast, the direction in which we are heading. Roy went off to play golf, so once again I have the opportunity to do touristy things around the Quays and surrounding area.
Next stop tomorrow – Tsitsikamma Reserve and a canopy ride/zip ride through the forest!
Til next week, KnR
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Halfway there
Good morning from Amsterdam airport. After nearly a 10 hour exceptionally smooth flight (3 movies and 3 meals to pass the time) we got here at 7am with severe indigestion and 2.5 hours to kill before transfer to Cape Town. Wandering around aimlessly checking out all the Dutch gadgets and wares and even a Casino to keep Roy occupied while I sat down with the electronic diary. Didn't last long though, with $50US in hand he was in and out before my laptop had even started up! Trying to stick to the current time zone which means no wine at breakfast! On that note, I better go find Roy - it's been 16 hours since his final smoke and he's probably out sniffing around! Til next time, KnR
Friday, January 30, 2009
The countdown
Four more sleeps and we're off to Africa and points beyond. Hope to see you here throughout the next two months!
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