The rest of the vacation

Another disclaimer: I just arrived in PMB today (12 Nov), and I should now be able to upload some pix and such. I'll try to do that in the days to come; at this point I'm just settling in. Here is what I've written (again offline) over the past few days during the rest of my vacation time:


11/8: Weekend at the Cape: neither the southernmost, nor the westernmost, but debatably the most southwesternest point of Africa

Another full day; I just rolled in to my rondavel in Wilderness Nat’l Park at around 8:30pm, which seems to be a late arrival for them (gate was closed when I got there). I had beautiful weather for my trip to the Cape (not that Cape, Bostonians) – windy (as always) but perfectly clear. The cape itself was gorgeous, and it’s somehow neat to think that this is where the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet. (I had missed out on Ushuaiya when we went to Argentina.) From what I hear, it is a powerful place to be when there are storms; today the water was relatively calm. This stretch of park has some beautiful hiking, and I was only able to do a little bit (from Cape Point across to Cape of Good Hope and back) before hitting the road for my first long driving day. I did see a turtle and some big game (more unspecified boks, these ones male – with antlers – and enormous, bigger than horses) quite close-up during the Cape of Good Hope hike. The turtle was on the trail, and the closest of the hooved beasts was probably 50 feet away without any barriers between us. Luckily, he seemed less interested in me than I was in him.

On the way out, I stopped in Kalk Bay, a small, scenic, and pleasant bump in the road that seems mainly to serve tourists. At Janina’s suggestion, I had lunch at Olympia Café, which was as good as she described. It was cool to think that someone I know had eaten there several years ago, so far from home! There was a paper sitting around, and I couldn’t help reading more about Obama, along with a few choice cracks about Palin (a “seal-clubbing fundamentalist with no spark of intellect behind her designer specs” and a “libidinous choice of running mate” that is contextualized when one considers McCain’s “scary Barbie” wife). Also on the way out, I stopped off very briefly at a penguin colony (honestly, if the other name for African penguins wasn’t “jackass penguins”, I might have skipped this, as it was getting late). They were short and furry and cute, and I moved on.

An unexpected view on the way out of the Cape Town peninsula left me with my most powerful memory of the trip so far. While driving on R310 east along the coast, I saw Cape Flats for the first time; they stretch at one point (the Khayeltisha “neighborhood”) right up to the road. This is the part of Cape Town where the blacks who were evicted from District 6 (see my 11/6 entry) and other neighborhoods were deposited, and it is a slum in every imaginable sense. Living quarters (“houses” is a gross overstatement) comprising corrugated aluminum siding pasted just a few feet from each other stretched for as far as the eye could see. I had read that the majority of blacks in Cape Town lived in Cape Flats, but tourists are strongly discouraged from visiting because of the absolutely atrocious crime rates. I am very glad I saw them; that said, I did not feel comfortable even stopping at the side of the road for a picture; I have only the indelible image left in my mind. Unequal distribution of wealth is often cited as a problem in the US; the rich-poor gap is of an unimaginable magnitude here.

The drive itself was very uneventful. I have gotten more used to the whole left-sided gear shift and even can size up my car a bit better. Good thing I don’t have a car back in the states, because my instincts are changing. And now I sit in a charming little circular hut in a place that feels quite a bit like a national park facility in the US. I’m not used to not camping in places like this, but I had too much crap with me and decided not to bring a tent. Alas. The stars are gorgeous on this clear night; it’s a shame I don’t have the first clue what any of them are. What is the brightest star in the southern sky? Anyone?


11/9: Woody Guthrie would have been disappointed

I had planned a leisurely morning hike through Wilderness National Park, but the one I had planned to do was closed, according to a sign blocking the way. After briefly considering Woody Guthrie’s opinion on such things (“on the back side, the sign don’t say nothin’”), I decided that as a solo traveler on a foreign continent, I should obey, so I left earlier than planned. As today was my shortest driving day anyway, this left me with a bit of time to kill. I went back to the town of Wilderness (a few km from the national park) and got more cash and found a hallowed beverage that my dad and I remember fondly from travels during my childhood: Schweppes Bitter Lemon (now called Dry Lemon). Maybe quinine-containing drinks caught on in malarial areas back when it might have helped…. Just as tasty as I remembered. I also stopped briefly in Knysna, an affluent outpost whose downtown seemed to comprise several malls stuck together. I got gas and a few odds and ends here, including blank CDs – I didn’t realize my car would have a CD player, and now I can burn some music to drown out the sound of my singing (which is all I’ve had to keep me entertained so far).

Not long thereafter, I arrived at Storm’s River Mouth, another national park outpost and the centerpiece of my trip up the coast. It reminds me a lot of the Steep Ravine cabins in the SF bay area, for those who remember… Cabins nestled on a rocky coast overlooking a rough sea, the sound of waves crashing all night; all that’s missing is the great company and the guitar! (And I do miss both….) I went on a delightful class-3 scramble for about 3 km up the beach to a gorgeous waterfall emptying into the ocean, along the way passing countless excellent bouldering and climbing options that rival the Egg but remain untapped as far as I can tell. The hike was rated as difficult and was fun without being dangerous as long as one paid attention; another (ageist) way to describe its degree of difficulty is: I saw a few people over 60, but they all looked nervous… (sorry, Mom and Dad!). One can swim near the waterfall, and the water wasn’t too cold, but it looked pretty disgusting actually, so I didn’t jump in; nobody else did while I was there either. I ate a bit of a snack and enjoyed the waterfall and the waves, eyeballed the class 4 climb that could have taken one about 3/4 of the way up to the top of the 100-plus-foot waterfall, and quickly decided not to be stupid, then headed back. Unfortunately, I took a bit of an unintended detour on the way back and took the long way home (route-finding was an issue; the trail was a rumor most of the way), so I couldn’t do the second hike I had in mind for the day (another Woody Guthrie moment as I faced a locked gate noting a trail that had been closed for the evening; again, I obeyed). Instead, I hung around for an hour to watch a spectacular sunset over the Indian Ocean, then got dinner at the restaurant in the park (a delicious prawn curry). When I had reserved my table for dinner earlier in the day, I was the only one who said I wanted to sit outside. They made fun of me for this; apparently that option was only for daytime meals. Heck, it was like 60F out; I dressed warm and was ready to sit out on the deck and listen to the ocean! I think they thought I was nuts, and they made me eat indoors. Alas… Back in my cabin, I burned some CDs for the road and typed this blog entry off-line before turning in. I’ll do that second hike here at Storm’s River Mouth before heading out for a longer drive up to the Wild Coast.


10 Nov: Yarr, a fun night at Buccaneer’s on the Wild Coast

Woke up in Storm’s River Mouth to the beautiful view out my forest hut window. I tried the hike that was closed the night before; it is supposed to go out across a suspension bridge that crosses the mouth of the river as it empties into the Indian Ocean. However, I was once again thwarted, this time by risk of rockfall; they closed the trail about 500 meters short of the bridge. Instead, I scrambled out onto some rocks that jutted out into the ocean so I could get a view of the bridge and at least part of the river mouth. (I’m sure this was more risky than the rockfall that made them close the trail to begin with, but really, what choice did I have?)

I ate a quick breakfast of fruit and PBJ, then headed out to start the long drive to Cinsta (500 km to cover both today and tomorrow). The CDs helped to pass the time on the drive, and it seemed to fly by. I arrived at the famous Buccaneer’s Backpacker Lodge (reportedly the best hostel in South Africa) around 4pm. The last 3 km to the hostel was unpaved and very rocky, and after I arrived, I realized that somewhere along the way I had gotten a flat. Luckily, I had a spare in the car; in South Africa, they don’t have the US-type solid rubber spares, but instead they just have a fifth tire in the trunk, just like the other four. This would have been good (no need to drive around with a small tire), except that the reason for non-inflatable spares is that since they are seldom used, inflatable spares leak over time, and sure enough, my spare was pretty flat too. Luckily a guy named Pete at Buccaneer’s had an air compressor, and he offered to let me use it in the morning. Several people offered to help when they saw me changing the tire; I didn’t need it, but the sentiment was appreciated – the place had a friendly vibe.

After changing the tire, I had time to go down to the beach and run/play in the ocean a bit. I turned around to see a truly spectacular sunset over a freshwater lagoon just next to the sea; the sky turned from normal to fiery red in a matter of two minutes. I sprinted over to get my camera and captured the show for the next 10-15 minutes. On my way back I ran into a couple from Australia who had been watching the sunset too (curiously, we were the only people out on the beach at sunset despite a very full hostel a 5 minute walk away). They were a fun couple, about my age; he is Irish but lives near Sydney (Bondi Beach), she is of Indian ethnicity (family from Tamil Nadu) but was born in Singapore and raised in Brunei, then relocated to Australia. I don’t believe I had ever met anyone who had lived in Brunei before. I ended up having dinner with them at the lodge as well, and we (along with a few Euros) played pool and drank and talked until 3 am! Good people.

The hostel was fantastically fun, just as advertised. The staff were very energetic, warm, and friendly, and although I couldn’t partake since I was there so briefly, they arrange for many cultural and/or athletic activities from the lodge. Many of the staff were Xhosa (the first sound is a “click”, not an x- or z-sound as you might expect by looking), the local tribe along the Wild Coast, and it was fun to hear them click when they talked! Dinner is a communal event every night and blends seamlessly into a night of talking, dancing, pool, drinking, and listening to music if one so chooses. Easily the most social of the places I stayed in, with a crowd that ran from early 20s to mid-60s (including two fun recently retired Swedish couples who talked a lot, especially one guy who kept saying “I can’t speak good English” but must have talked more than anybody else there!).


11 Nov: Flat tire saga

Today was a boring, tough day of driving. I awoke to rain and a spare tire that was quite a bit more flat than when I went to bed… not confidence-inspiring. Did someone else get a flat and just put the flat tire in the trunk in place of the spare, so that I had replaced a flat with a flat? I called Dollar and they assured me all spares are checked; still, I was a bit nervous as I am quite reliant on that car and will be miles away from anywhere for most of my journey! Car trouble was the one thing I was worried about as I planned this trip, and now here it was (albeit minor). The rain didn’t help lift my spirits, either; it was alternating between a drizzle and a downpour.

I found Pete the resident handyman, and he helped me fill up the spare; it certainly seemed to take air without trouble and without an evident leak. Still, I asked directions to the nearest filling station and planned to get a new tire. Unfortunately, the directions they gave me to the closest filling station would have taken me several km down another unpaved, rocky road; I decided to head back out to the highway instead (since the tire was still holding up at this point) and take my chances with the next filling station. By the time I got to one, I had been driving for a good 20 minutes and the spare tire looked perfect. Luckily, the gas station I happened upon also had a mechanic next door; they didn’t sell tires but they were able to plug the leak in the flat tire, so at least I had a functioning backup in case I got another flat (or the new spare failed to hold air). This made me feel a lot better about the rest of the journey, but it did set me back a good two hours. I enjoyed seeing the service station; they kinda stared at me a bit and we had a bit of trouble communicating (I gather they don’t get too many white folks through there), and I realized when I gave them my tire I didn’t have a good idea of how long it would take them to fix it; I wasn’t able to get that message across. But, just when I was getting anxious, they wheeled the tire back out to me, all fixed and inflated. All for 8 bucks (US). Not bad. It’s easy to be a generous tipper, too, with a 9:1 exchange rate!

So on I went. The drive was not much farther than yesterday, but much more painful. I had less sleep (though for good reason; last night was fun), and a much later start on the day; after the tire saga, it was 12:30 pm before I really got going. I still had 550 km to cover, which could take under 5 hours under good conditions, but conditions were far from good. It rained steadily, and worse, a thick mist descended just as I entered KwaZulu-Natal that limited visibility to maybe 50 feet for a good stretch of the drive in two different places, so I had to drive much slower than I anticipated. Also, the N2 (highway) here was two-lane, undivided, windy, and up-and-down for most of the way today, leaving us at the mercy of trucks, since it was completely impossible to pass in the mist. So I spent a good chunk of the drive stuck behind an 18-wheeler chugging its way up a winding incline at 40 kph instead of the normal 120 kph. All that said, I ended up getting in to my hostel around 8:30 pm instead of a hoped-for 5ish, exhausted and hungry.

An observation on South African drivers: they use their hazard lights differently than we do in the US. Rather than denoting engine trouble for a car on the side of the road or some such, they appear to use them to say “I’m about to create a hazard by doing something stupid and reckless that will endanger my life and yours”. When attempting a risky pass into the oncoming lane, or when they cut you off or tailgate and want you to drive off into the shoulder so they can get by, they’ll turn on the hazard lights. I heard yesterday that South Africa has the highest rate of traffic fatalities of any country in the world, and after today, I see why. Some people are freaking psychos behind the wheel, and there are many delusional truckers who think they’re driving Porsches.

Anyway, it’s good to have most of my driving behind me, and it’s even better to be able to sleep tonight! Found a nice clean backpacker’s hostel in Umtentweni, just north of Port Shepstone and maybe 100 km south of Durban. That just leaves a short hop up the coast to Durban, then west to Edendale to get a peek at the hospital, then on to my new home for the next month!