The End to Naivety, Serenity and Security

I'm not so sure I should publish this post, but many people have asked about it and this seems to be the easiest way to describe it. 

14 April 2012

At around 2.15 AM this morning Luke and I were held up and robbed.

(Even though months have passed since this incident actually occurred, I am battling to get the courage to write about this experience that truly shattered my naivety and sense of security.)

Surfacing from a deep sleep, my mind registered the sound of people talking as they entered the house and stomped along the wooden floors. These must be the visitors that the owner was expecting to arrive earlier today I sleepily mused. I opened my eyes and began sitting up as two figures roughly opened the creaking door to Luke and my room, which caused them to notice our presence in the room more quickly. They started shouting to each other as one flicked the light switch on and I blindly tried to make sense of the situation in the glare.

“Lie down! Go to sleep!” They yelled as they roughly pushed us both back onto our beds. Go to sleep. I.e. close your eyes so that you won’t be able to identify them. The one who did all the talking (there were two of them, Xhosa speaking and from the location), he whispered that phrase in my ear often. Go to sleep. The quiet one was more terrifying though, and kept his hand thrust in his pants pocket. When he reached my bed, he snatched my phone from next to my head (I had been sleeping with it under my pillow and it had slipped out) and I had to fight back an urge through half opened eyes to grab it back. It was mine! Our bags were next to our bed, in full view. We had not thought that we needed to hide our things away. Luke’s camera bag was opened and his camera taken, as well as his phone. My handbag was emptied and my camera taken. They took the cash from our wallets (a substantial amount meant to tide us over until we could get back into res) but they left our bank cards and IDs – how kind. They chucked out Luke’s clothes from his bag and put their stolen merchandise in the bag. Luke’s laptop was added to the pile. They weren’t satisfied yet. They began shouting at Luke, pushing him roughly, asking him what else we had, to not lie otherwise they’d stab us. “Do you want me to fucking stab you huh? Do you want to die?” They pulled Luke from the top bunk, holding him by his collar, shaking him, forcing him to walk out the room. “Where are the keys to the gate?” They wanted the cars. They didn't believe Luke that we did not know where the keys were. They shoved him out to the Bantam, wanting him to drive them to the location. I was left in the room, a sniveling  shaking, useless being. I should have done something then. I should have found a weapon. I should have run out into the road screaming for help. Instead I stayed put in shock, praying with all my heart that they wouldn't hurt Luke, wishing that they would just leave. They shoved Luke back into the bedroom after they had made him tell them where my laptop was. They took that too. The next thing I knew they were yanking me up by my neck, telling me to get up, to keep my eyes closed. Go to sleep, do you want me to fucking stab you. Grunted into my ear constantly as I stumbled down steep stairs, my eyes barely open, my neck in his grip. They took us back out to the Bantam. They wanted Luke to drive them to the location. Luke calmly repeated again and again, “I don’t know where the keys are, I’m sorry, I don’t know, please just leave us alone, we won’t phone the police.” Eventually they took us back up the stairs (Don’t fucking open your eyes), to our room. Forcing us to lie face down on a bed. Face by my face, Go to sleep. “Don’t fucking well call the police. We’ll kill you. We’ll come back for you.” Heavy footsteps on the wooden floorboards. Trying my hardest to swallow my scream, to stop shaking. Hearing Luke whisper “Don’t make a sound Vanessa, don’t do anything stupid.” The silence stretching as we waited, hardly daring to breathe.

After an age, Luke slid off the bed to see that they had truly gone. They had. Not ten minutes after they had left, the only other inhabitant of the Backpackers arrived home from a grad party; an Argentinian who was living there semi-permanently. The girls who dropped him off kindly phoned the police for us. The dazed and inebriated Argentinian gave us the code to the Backpackers phone, shrugged his shoulders at our predicament, stated “This is Africa” as if it were his mantra, and went to bed. Phoning my dad was a bad idea. He began shouting at me, yelling: “Now what?” By the time I had hung up the phone in tears, a small group of the police had arrived. It was now about 3.30 AM. They noted the damage and took Luke’s statement. So how did two thugs get passed the electric fence and code system that had lulled us into a false sense of security? They had crow barred the pedestrian gate until the coded lock broke. Then they had attempted to break in the window before kicking in the door, again breaking the coded lock with brute force. The full extent of our loss became apparent when the police left us, awaiting 6.00 AM when the fingerprinting experts would come in. The bastards had taken our car keys – and the spares were sitting eleven hours away in Hilton with my family. The holiday work I had so meticulously done had been on my laptop that was taken. The exam I had been preparing that work for was on Monday. It was now Saturday. Luke’s camera which we had begged, worked, scrimped and saved for over two years for was gone. All the photos from our epic holiday, from which we had been on such a high, gone. Luke’s new laptop, my new laptop, the means to do our work, all my life’s photos, gone. Our cell phones, our only connection to our family so far from us, gone. In total, it all came to about R 25 000 of stolen equipment, and a lifetime of effort.

Too terrified to go back to sleep, I made tea for the two of us as we sat shivering in the lounge waiting for the police to come back. Although Luke had handled the situation calmly while it was happening, the shock took him now, and nausea took root. Thank you Lord that they hadn't been able to make him take them to the location. Thank you Lord that they barely noticed me, that they didn't rape me. It could have been worse. But when you have been through such an invasion of yourself mentally, you find it difficult not to accept that you got off relatively easy. To this day, I need to make sure that every door and window that surrounds me is well and truly locked, and there is barely a night that goes by that I don’t lie for hours thinking about all the things I could have done differently, all the ways I could have hurt them, what it would feel like to stab someone, to feel skin and meat give way to the slithering edge of a hefty kitchen knife, to hear the crack of a skull connecting with a pan, how would I have to hit a person’s temple to knock them senseless… If there had been but one other person with us, another guy, if the Argentinian guy had been there and not at a party…things could have been so different.

At 6.00 AM the police took fingerprints. My mom phoned the Backpackers phone to inform me that my dad was on his way to Grahamstown. He had left as soon as I had phoned. As frustrated and guilty as I felt about my dad driving all the way here, it made me feel better knowing that the person I trusted the most in the world would be here to help me deal with this. He was bringing my sister and her husband’s laptops for Luke and me to use in the meantime for our academics, and two old phones, one of which was a Nokia 3310 – still in perfect working condition. I can’t believe how indestructible those machines are! Luke and I mooched around the Backpackers for the day, with no way to go anywhere and nowhere to go. The owner kept offering me free cool drinks to ease her guilt at our situation, but she didn't feel guilty enough to give us back the money we had paid for the night. I used the Backpackers computer to redo my whole pre-practical exam preparation. I managed it in record time, and looking back I still have no clue how I managed to achieve that. My dad arrived in the late afternoon, having had eleven hours to stew in his frustration. Our reunion consisted of a lot of panicked and stressed out accusations and defensive comments. When he dropped me off at Smuts (Luke’s res) I was in tears again. Luke had driven in convoy behind us (Dad had brought our spare keys down) and was entirely bewildered by all this. However, amongst all the shouting Dad and I had shared a sweet short hug that said all the words we could never say, I love you and I’m so glad you’re okay. Then he turned his car around and began to make his way back home. He refused to stay in Grahamstown any longer. A crushing, depressing, damaging low made stronger in comparison to the two week high I had been on.

So ended my April holiday.  

The Calm Before the Storm

13 April 2012

An unlucky day to herald the end to our incredible holiday, Luke and I got up very early to see his family off on their considerably longer journey (about 10 hours to Pietermaritzburg). We left at a more seemly time of the day and made it back to Grahamstown in good time. Rhodes residence would only open the following day so we had booked ourselves into the only place that still had space for us, Whethu Backpackers. Graduation weekend was not yet over and all accommodation had been taken up by the friends and family of the grad students, so we weren't left with much of a choice of where to stay.

The Backpackers has a definite hippy vibe to it, with all sorts of odd things hanging from the ceiling, flowers painted on the bathroom doors, second hand furniture throughout and a welcoming feel.  Luke spent the afternoon sifting through his newly taken photos whilst I finally managed to finish off my work, making the most of the free internet that came with the accommodation. Making supper for the two of us, we decided to join in the ‘free love’ experience and make supper for the guy who manned the phones as well. Although Luke and I had been placed in an eight man dormitory, by the time we went to our bunk beds there were still no other guests that had arrived and so we had it to ourselves.

Our Last Day in the Wilderness

12 April 2012

Luke had risen earlier than everyone else today, and informed my half asleep self that there had been a layer of ice on the Bantam from the night before. No wonder we had been shivering away all night!

With today being our last full day to spend together before we parted ways, Luke’s family to Hilton and us to Grahamstown, we decided to make the most of it going on a long game drive. We were desperate to see an elephant and a cheetah before we left, but they were incredibly elusive much to our despair. Keeping our eyes peeled the whole while, we made our way to one of the picnic sites dotted around the reserve for a very late lunch (minus plates, knives, or any useful utensils). As amazing as this holiday has been, and as grateful as I am for having been exposed to the most fantastic natural beauties that only Africa can offer, my thoughts begin to turn towards my Grahamstown creature comforts. A guaranteed hot shower, a clean, soft, toasty warm bed ready-made to climb into, a permanent roof over my head and the luxury of not having to brave the darkness and the cold for a midnight jaunt to the loo. Mountain Zebra has great camping facilities, including fridges, plug points, a stove and a microwave in the communal kitchen, as well as clean and well maintained bathrooms – but I never once had a hot shower while I was there, so beware!

Shy Cheetahs and Elephants

12 April 2012

Luke had risen earlier than everyone else today, and informed my half asleep self that there had been a layer of ice on the Bantam from the night before. No wonder we had been shivering away all night.

With today being our last full day to spend together before we parted ways, Luke’s family to Hilton and us to Grahamstown, we decided to make the most of it going on a long game drive. We were desperate to see an elephant and a cheetah before we left, but they were incredibly elusive much to our despair. Keeping our eyes peeled the whole while, we made our way to one of the picnic sites dotted around the reserve for a very late lunch (minus plates, knives, or any useful utensils). 

As amazing as this holiday has been, and as grateful as I am for having been exposed to the most fantastic natural beauties that only Africa can offer, my thoughts were beginning to turn towards my Grahamstown creature comforts. A guaranteed hot shower, a clean, soft, toasty warm bed ready-made to climb into, a permanent roof over my head and the luxury of not having to brave the darkness and the cold for a midnight jaunt to the loo. Mountain Zebra has great camping facilities, including fridges, plug points, a stove and a microwave in the communal kitchen, as well as clean and well maintained bathrooms – but I never once had a hot shower while I was there, so beware!

Nocturnal Eyes

11 April 2012

(I'm not sure what happened, but I seem to have skipped out the 10 April 2012 in my camping journal.)

The holiday work continued throughout that morning whilst the sunshine thawed out my bones. Luke and his family left on another game drive escapade that afternoon, leaving me behind to tackle my notes. In addition to what was seen the day before, they also saw wildebeest, blesbok and red-eyed doves. As the sun set, I joined them for a professional night time game drive. Our tour guide took us off road onto less traveled tracks, and used his torch to sweep the surrounding darkness for the glint of animal eyes. He astounded us by naming the dark shapes by the height of the eyes from ground level and the way the light glanced off them. Decked out in ponchos provided by the Mountain Zebra staff, munching on biltong, and notifying each other to the presence of something through whispers, we got to see bat eared foxes, duiker, gemsok, spring hares (such a fluffy tail!), spotted eagle owls and porcupine. It was a great opportunity, albeit a cold one, and we ended off the night with a hot meal of Petro’s other specialty – Cowboy Kos and wraps.

A Precarious Game Drive

9 April 2012

A late start to the day allowed the sun to dry out our soaked campsite whilst we waited for Petro’s famously scrumptious beer bread to be made in Andy’s trusty Cobb. 

Luke and I enjoyed the afternoon game drive from two relatively unstable camp chairs on the back of Andy’s bakkie. Luke perfected his photographic skills on the multitude of game we encountered in the peaceful sun-kissed veldt: Kudu, eland, rooihartbees, springbok, steenbok, mountain zebra, black backed jackals, a jackal buzzard, baboons, golden orb spiders… the list goes on. 

That night Luke and I spent much of our time in the clean, bright and above all, warm communal kitchen, Luke sorting out his backlog of pictures and myself patiently working my way through my university homework. Sleeping in beanies and multiple layers of clothing meant that we were better prepared for the biting chill that enveloped us all too quickly.

Making Tracks Toward Our Last Stop: Mountain Zebra

8 April 2012

Packing up in the rain is never fun, but the family pulled together and we were pretty successful in keeping most things dry. Luke and I managed to convince the family to stop in Jefferys Bay for lunch so that we could sample Trawlers hake, calamari and chips. A quaint little fish and chip shop with an unassuming atmosphere, the mother takes the orders while her son cooks at the back. Best fish I have ever had, Trawlers has a special place in my heart right alongside the Chinese restaurant across the road from our beach cottage back home (you’ll hear about that in blogs to come). Over the Easter weekend of 2011, Luke and I and a bunch of friends had camped out in J Bay and happened upon this little piece of paradise and we've never forgotten it. However, more of that story will come another time.  

A long day of driving got us to our next home: Mountain Zebra. The frigid night time temperatures left us in no doubt that winter had arrived before it’s time in this little game reserve, which left James cursing the fact that he had brought only two left shoes which meant no shoes and hence very cold feet.

Making the Most of Tsitsikamma

7 April 2012

Today happens to be Luke and my anniversary, not that we remembered at the time. Two months shy of five years. Not a relationship length one usually hears from two twenty year olds. This is beside the point however, so let’s get back to the day’s events.

Remember the buckets of rain we had been promised the day before? Well it arrived; although we were lucky enough to get it in fits and starts throughout the day rather than a torrential downpour. There’s nothing worse than rain and winter cold when you’re camping.

Despite being harried by the rain gods, we made the most of our last day in Nature’s Valley by starting it off with an early morning jaunt up the Tsitsikamma beach head which gave us an expansive view of the harmony existing between ocean, beach, river and forest-hidden mountains. According to Petro, when she and Andrew reached the beach head summit on another camping trip they were lucky enough to witness a pod of dolphins leaping through the ocean waters below them.

Leaving James back at camp, the family headed to Storms River Mouth Suspension Bridge. The walk to the Bridge is not especially strenuous, and is pleasantly set along wooden trails raised above the forest floor and overlooking the ocean to the one side. We managed to catch Storms River Mouth at its most exhilarating mood, with high tide pummeling the rocky shores, dragging the grating roaring rocks back into the ocean with each receding wave. The view from the lookout point was worthy of the Queen herself, if she could manage the steep climb up the hill. The other activities offered at this favored tourist attraction include canoeing up Storm’s River itself, diving, and partaking of the restaurant cuisine whilst overlooking the sea. There were also a few relaxed dassies sunning themselves on table tops when we tramped past. All in all, something to be recommended if you have an urge to stretch your legs, see some natural beauty, and have the good fortune of a little sunshine.

Back at camp we made use of the canoes provided by the site to paddle along the Groot River towards the beach (well, Luke did the paddling on my part because there was a shortage of paddles - I swear that's the real the reason). Once there we discovered that once you jumped off your little boat and waded out to the middle of the river,putting up your feet meant that the incoming tide would push you at high speed back along the river - just like a water ride at a theme park. I had to resist the urge to shout: "Weeeeeeee" every time the current washed me past Andy and Petro, who were waiting patiently on the beach for our fun to run its course. They had to wait quite a while. A great end to the day, I thought.

Dancing With Vampires.

6 April 2012

We had planned to rise slowly today but this apparently fanciful notion was laid to waste once we were informed by the campsite authorities that the site the gatekeeper had given us was in fact reserved for a tough customer. Wiping the sleep from our eyes and shuffling our way through the morning chill we were made to move camp to another site, quietly cursing the gatekeeper all the while. Apparently Nature’s Valley is notoriously dis-organised, although their idyllic forested setting does make up for such flawed management and keeps their sites full.

A good breakfast and an all-encompassing dose of Peaceful Sleep left Luke dozing in his new hammock, myself lost in a book and Petro and Andrew on their way to the shops to stock up on supplies. Upon their return, we dedicated our afternoon to a forest trail that took us along a mountain side, up a mountain, down a mountain and through a swamp. I would have found such a walk through mystical trees and soft shadows the perfect opportunity to imagine myself lost in Fangorn Forest or some such fantastical place, had not a swarm of starving mosquitoes marked us out for starters, mains, and dessert! It’s difficult to mindlessly escape reality when you find yourself losing a vital pint of blood to vampires! We evolved a queer way of walking which involved constant movement (even if you were waiting in one spot) along the lines of a gumboot dance that extended to the arms, neck and face as well as the legs. For those of you who don’t know what a gumboot dance is, it involves a lot of slapping oneself rhythmically.

Escaping those terrible monsters, the family decided to saunter up the road to the Tsitsikamma beach and end our day off by strolling along the tide line  Kelsey pointed out some interesting sea snails, and we happened across a snake sinuating itself over the sand. The poor thing was claimed by the sea in the end I think. Weather wise, the oppressive heat of the day had been promising buckets of rain which never arrived.

Tourist Vibes and Tangled Hair

5 April 2012

Leaving Strandskloof a full two hours later than expected (9.30AM) we took an eight hour meander towards Nature’s Valley based near Tsitsikamma. The first place we visited along the way (sort of) was Cape Agulhas which is said to be the southernmost point of South Africa. We made the precarious trip up a series of steep ladders to reach the lighthouse top and take in the view, although I didn't see much due to the incredibly strong wind threatening to whip me all over the place just as it was doing to my hair. It was a pretty cool place with a little museum and coffee shop at the base of the lighthouse, but we didn't stay long enough for me to make a full appraisal of what they had to offer. All I can suggest is take a hair tie.

The next eventful moment of our long trip was when we arrived in Malgas. At this point we had to drive our Bantam onto a little ferry powered by the latest technology, i.e. the sweat of three men pulling chains from one side of the ferry to the other until the ferry reached the opposite side of the river. This emptied our pockets by R37.00 per car – an expensive toll I thought (please insert sarcasm here)!

Our final stop before reaching Nature’s Valley was at PortBeauford. A stupendously huge bay, this is where the whales come to calve. Again I was made to deal with peering through my hair as the wind physically bullied me all the way from the car and back into it again.

We made it to Nature’s Valley as twilight fell and unfortunately had to set up camp in the dark – never an easy task at the best of times. Before we could do this however, we had to wait for Andrew to chat to the gatekeeper and ask if we could be given another campsite due to our originally booked one being far too small for six people. The gatekeeper was more than happy to help and promptly pointed us towards the bigger site we were now set up on. Nature’s Valley campsites reside in a forested location, and so we had to keep multiple mosquitoes and such like at bay with layers of PeacefulSleep. Besides that, I was looking forward to shaded strolls through the forest and the next three days we were to spend here.

Hunting For Shells, Waiting For Coffee.

4 April 2012

Kelsey decided she did not have enough shells (she had tons already as far as I could see!) and so the family made an expedition down to a beach absolutely covered in kelp to rectify the situation by taking a long stroll whilst she darted here and there collecting only those things she deemed interesting. I have to admit that apart from the company there wasn't much to recommend this beach.

An hour long break for lunch back at camp and then we were off again on another walk along a different beach front minus James who had elected to remain back at camp. This trail wound its way through a designated fynbos conservation area and exposed us to the prettiest aspects of Gansbaai: Great sweeping mountain ranges blanketed in fynbos vegetation ending abruptly at the clear dark blue ocean edge. The sun made an effort to overcome its daily war with the clouds, and soon we were treated to a vision of blue skies and sunshine dancing upon the waves.

Back at camp we got a chance to take a quick dip in the heated pool before showering and heading out to dinner at a restaurant we had picked out earlier on our afternoon drive through town. At Oppidek Pub & Bistro Luke and I shared a seafood platter of calamari, hake, mussels, prawns and chips – all of which were superbly fresh and cooked to perfection. Dessert stuffed an already full tummy with malva pudding and custard on my part, and vanilla cheesecake for Luke. Although the food is to be recommended the service was ridiculously slow, and we were left to freeze out on the windy balcony for far too long before Andrew received his after dinner coffee. 

By the time it arrived I think Luke’s brain cells had gone into hibernation in response to the frigid conditions, and this explains why he decided to take his dad’s nearly empty milk jug and pour into it the remains of his dad’s filter coffee and sip away at it daintily, as if it were normal for a larger than normal man to drink out of a tiny milk jug. Needless to say we all erupted into hysterics, which were worsened by Petro staring at Luke in disbelief and Luke eagerly looking around for the person that so fascinated Petro when in fact that person was him! So if you go to Oppidek you can expect: Great food and terribly slow service.

Farewell Cape Town and Hello Gansbaai

3 April 2012

The day had arrived that we were to leave Cape Town and make our way east in the Bantam (I secretly call it Chicken) to meet up with Luke’s family in Gansbaai. Before we said goodbye to Simon though, the boys insisted on a Spur breakfast at the V&A Waterfront to start off our journey – as if Simon’s mum hadn't been stuffing us with enough food! Besides the millions of photos captured by Luke, Simon also created a GoPro video of our visit as well as his holiday spent working at the Aquarium with the footage he obsessive compulsively filmed (now we know where he gets that disorder from – his mum!). Share in our epic Cape Town experience by clicking here.

One last goodbye to our woolly haired host and we were off. By late lunchtime we had arrived in Gansbaai, whereupon we met with Andrew (Luke’s dad), Petro (his step mum) and Kelsey (his twelve year old mouse of a sister) at the docks. Sitting on the rocks just off the pier we learned that we were all waiting for James (Luke’s fifteen year old gangly brother) to return from a shark cage dive – an early sixteenth birthday present. Doing so, we caught each other up on our respective holidays thus far.

When James jumped from the huge boat with the broadest grin on his face he enthusiastically began to regale us with his momentous encounter with nature’s deep sea predators. There are several companies along the docks that take out the brave and stupid for shark cage diving, but this one in particular that James went with filmed their experiences. Once the ride is over they offer hot chocolate, tea and coffee etc. to the bedraggled heroes whilst giving them the opportunity to relive their experience through a viewing of the footage. They also have photos up on their wall of celebrities that have partaken in the adrenalin rush provided by shark cage diving. These included Jude Law, among other big names. The ride cost about R1400 for adults.

Following Andrew back to camp at Strandskloof, we set up our own tent for the first time that holiday and then made good use of the heated pool as the sky darkened and the air cooled. Winter was on its way and our days were noticeably getting both chillier and shorter. When Petro enlightened us as to the origins of the irritated red marks that peppered her skin, Luke and I quickly lathered up with Peaceful Sleep (every camper’s best friend) to avoid the “bloody buggers” that apparently crawl under your clothing and bite everywhere and anywhere incessantly.

Table Mountain: Breathless To Behold!

2 April 2012

Table Mountain is about a kilometre high. For people who on a regular occasion hike up the mountains of Kwa-Zulu Natal, Luke and I felt confident that we could conquer Table Mountain with ease. How wrong we were.

Simon’s dad is a seasoned hiker of Table Mountain and made the smart decision of starting us off up the back of the mountain before the sun had even risen. Starting off my spirits were high at finally getting the chance to stretch my legs as we meandered up the first little bit. Then we reached the steep rocks that make up the apostles’ faces, the first of a series of steep bits that require not only the legs but the arms and knees to get involved as well. Before long the pace was set with Simon’s sixty year old dad springing up the rock face as if he had boundless energy, followed by Simon with almost the same amount of vigor as his father… then Luke, a little slower and more out of breath than the others… and far behind Luke, me – huffing and puffing and cursing these Cape Tonians and their one and only steep mountain. See, hiking in Natal is different because the mountain trails curve back and forth across the land, gaining altitude at a respectable and gentle pace. The trail that tackles Table Mountain just goes straight up. No leniency allowed.

A brief respite was allowed half way up the apostles’, from which we could see Lion’s Head meeting with the ocean and the city languishing below it. Then more climbing until we reached the top of the apostle. A more gentle walk down the one side was short lived, as we were confronted with another almost vertical trail up the next side of the valley. Upon reaching the top of that next rise, my heart sank when I looked across and could see the point at which the cable cars arrived was now level with us and realised it would take another deep valley and another even steeper climb to reach that prayed for place. It wasn't all despair however, and we did get to do a little suprise spelunking in a tiny cave we came by.

Along the way Simon had frequently inquired after his father’s heart, to which the gruff reply every time was: “I’m fine.” I wish someone had thought to ask how my heart was doing! Up until that point we had been climbing in the mountain’s shadow, thank goodness, because we were sweating enough as it is at the exertion. However, the sun was up by now and extending its energy-sapping rays towards us. We called a halt at that time and sat under a shady rock to absorb the truly magnificent views that surrounded us and get some energy from Simon’s mum’s egg and mayo sammies (they certainly gave us wind fueled energy) and the other goodies she had packed.

Feeling better about our chances of surviving, we tackled the next valley. A shorter dip existed between that final rise and Table Mountain’s tourist destination, and we used the long steel ladders to finally get us to Table Mountain’s flat and rocky surface.


Hot, sticky and sweaty as I was, I became acutely aware of just how many freshly showered tourists had taken the cable car up to this place. There were hordes of them clogging up the trails across the roped off mountain, oohing and aahing at the view.  Having climbed Table Mountain over six hours, I appreciated the beauty and uniqueness of it far more than if I had simply taken the cable car. Every break we had taken on the trail had revealed to us a new aspect of the view from Table Mountain, and I was truly inspired by every panorama I had been exposed to. I would not have changed the experience for anything and the effort was indeed worth every minute of blood (ok, there was no blood), sweat and tears (there was a lot of the former, and a small portion of the latter was shed quietly I’m sure). If you wish to fully appreciate the majesty of Table Mountain take a walk up the apostles. It’s hard work but if a pensioner can do it, so can you! However, we did take the cable car down at the high price of R100 per person. There’s only so much appreciating a person can do before they pass out from dehydration.

Back at Simon’s house his mum made a late lunch for us. Now, I thought our sammies etc. were lunch so I wasn't hungry at all. Unfortunately Simon’s mum suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Feeding Disorder (O.C.F.D) which involves force feeding her guests until they are positively rotund. Not that one minds too much because her cooking is that amazing.

Our day’s experiences were not over yet though, and so we were able to digest our food bellies quietly on Clifton beach as afternoon slowly ebbed into evening and the sun set over the sea. Despite the ever present smell of decaying kelp, the scenery was idyllic and a few booze cruises pulled into the bay to watch the sun sink below the horizon along with those of us on the beach.

Soaking up the day’s last sunshine whilst Luke and Simon launched themselves from a rock into the freezing Atlantic waters, I felt my muscles and mind relax completely. Being quite a tense little person (Luke is constantly reminding me to “relax”) it takes a lot to make me stop worrying about anything and everything. Cape Town did the trick though, and one couldn't ask for better hosts than Simon and his family. Thank you!

Simon did a great GoPro video containing footage of both the Two Oceans Aquarium and our hike up Table Mountain. To see it click here (you know you want to*winks encouragingly*).

Fin! Noggin! Duuude....

1 April 2012

April Fool’s Day. Luke and I considered phoning my parents and informing them of my imminent pregnancy. We had to ditch that idea though because it would have broken my mum’s heart to hear that it was a joke. She’s desperate for grandchildren and she has been waiting in vain for my older sister to give her some despite her marriage of four years.

Luke and I were treated by Simon to a backstage tour of the Two Oceans Aquarium today. Because he worked there in his gap year and all the holidays since then, Simon knows all the ins and outs and it was fascinating to see not only the Aquarium itself but also the inner workings. Entering through a back door we were taken through empty corridors to see where the fish food was stored and prepared. We then moved onto the common room to meet some of the people he works with. Being quite a small aquarium, each employee is expected to perform a variety of duties from diving with the sharks, to rehabilitating the new specimens, to feeding, to cleaning the tanks. Simon then took us up a series of staircases to the roof. Once there we were given an informed tour of the room where they keep the specimens that have just arrived, and then the room where they grow jelly fish.

As incredible as these rooms were, they weren't quite as amazing as walking out onto the open –aired roof top and looking down into the aquarium tanks themselves. One contained a huge turtle that delighted in having her shell scratched. One of the interesting facts our educated tour guide imparted with us was that turtles actually have a layer of skin over their shells so she could in fact feel our touch through her scales. We had to carefully balance our way along a beam to get to the set of stairs leading down into the biggest tank, and from our vantage point we could watch the sting ray, kob, sharks and various other huge fish swirl the water just below us. From the platform we were standing on, the divers (like Simon) would enter the tank and feed the fish.

When Simon took us down into the actual aquarium to see the tanks as normal visitors would, we were just in time to see the sharks being fed as Simon had described. Two divers entered the enormous tank from where we had just been, and one medium sized turtle immediately headed for them in anticipation of the food. Simon described the turtle’s personality to us: he was a greedy little guy who just ate and ate, to the point of following a piece of fish down a shark’s throat much to the shark’s shock when it bit down on the turtle. The shark quickly released him, and the turtle not only got the fish but also a new scar on his shell. He also said that the divers don’t fear the sharks during feeding time but rather the kob, and he showed us a few scars on his hand that the kob had given him. Another huge turtle gave us a gorgeous display of herself as she danced along the vast window of the tank for at least an hour, reveling in all the attention she got from the crowded viewing area.

We were shown around the rest of the aquarium after that, stopping at each window whilst Simon patiently explained about each specimen within as well as the work that went into maintaining their tanks. He even took us behind one of the tanks through a hidden door and let me put my fingers in the water for the fish to nibble at gently. When we went to see the rockhopper penguins, they made the biggest fuss over Simon as if he were a long lost brother. Apparently when they first came in, they were his responsibility to initiate into the aquarium environment. It was both fascinating and heart-warming to see that they still remembered him even when he had been absent for two months.

I could go on and on about that afternoon, but all I can say is if you ever find yourself in Cape Town make the trip to the Aquarium. It is completely worthwhile and everything you see is well cared for, impeccably maintained and environmentally kosher.

Avicii's Cape Town Performance!

31 March 2012

Our first proper day in Cape Town dawned, and we spent most of the daylight hours in Canal Walk. Ordinarily I think this should have been a dream come true for a shopaholic such as myself. That being said, I was not allowed to dwell on those shops I would usually frequent and was instead dragged by my two male counterparts into every electronics and camping store we passed. After nodding politely about the usefulness of some or other gadget for the fiftieth time, I made my excuses and headed on a solitary expedition of the vast mall to find a wedding gift for my brother. Finally settling on a silvercandlestick pair and vase, I made my way back to the boys. Surprise, surprise, I found them waiting their turn in a long que extending from a race track simulator. Once Simon had had his chance to take on the racetrack Luke rewarded me for my monumental patience by introducing me to Kauai – a fast food restaurant that is healthy! Wraps, gourmet sandwiches, salads…I was in heaven. Naturally Simon and Luke decided that their lunch should come from McDonalds, seeing as we have no McDonalds in Grahamstown *rolls eyes*. 

Our shopping mission accomplished, Luke and I parted ways with Simon at his house for the night. Our evening plans consisted of ThunderCity where Avicii was holding a show. Meeting up with an old school friend at 17.00PM, Carmen and her friend, we made our way into the Golden Circle (R450 a ticket) and claimed a space right at the front of the stage. 

As the night went on this prime spot grew increasingly difficult to keep, and on more than one occasion I found myself thinking extremely rude thoughts towards the people constantly trying to take my space. I have to admit that my appreciation for electronic music doesn’t run far, but when Goldfish took the stage all misgivings on my part were put aside. Their stage performance was unbelievable, and for an hour I forgot that my legs were aching from standing for five hours, that I was at the mercy of a crowd of sweaty bodies, and that I dared not move from my hard won place to grab a drink for fear I might never get it back. 

When their portion of the night was ended to make way for DJ Fresh, all my energy left me. I cannot express how much I detest DJ Fresh, and when he went on for longer than his hour slot due to Avicii being late (he had played in Joburg that afternoon) a rage began brewing within me. At long last, Avicii came on stage nearing 01.00AM and the excitement for him was such that there was a huge surge in the crowd as the masses made a new bid to be at the stage front. The press of people was so intense that Carmen was crushed against the fence and we were forced to give up our spaces after his first few songs for fear of being trampled. 

Besides that, Avicii lived up to expectations and created an incredible vibe that inspired the feet and filled the heart, and although we were no longer at the front we realised that being in Golden Circle meant you could move into the emptier spaces at the back and still be able to see the young DJ and appreciate his music. We were even close enough to notice that the very blonde teenager behind the turntables was also very sunburnt. Clearly the South African sun had proven too fierce for his fair Swedish skin. Ending the night at the Road Lodge my mum had thoughtfully booked for us not 5 minutes’ drive from Thunder City, we collapsed into bed with legs that were numb, necks that were aching, and a smile on each of our faces.

Beginnings, Burgers and Bad Luck.

Dear readers (i.e. Jordan).

As short as this ten day September holiday has been, my final day at home has presented me with the perfect weather for blogging – rain, iron grey clouds and a nippy chill to the air. Gazing at this typical spring weather (typical for the Midlands that is) from my nest of blankets, I cast my mind back to early April of this year when autumn was just beginning to set it’s chilly claws into the Cape. That holiday proved to be the most eventful two weeks of my life thus far, as Luke and I were given the opportunity to travel from Cape Town to Grahamstown along the Garden Route with his family.

30 March 2012

Luke and I began the holiday with driving straight down to Cape Town in convoy with Simon, a good friend in possession of an afro of sheep-like proportions who had kindly agreed to open his family’s home to us during our stay in his hometown. We made it to Storm’s River Bridge in good time, having left Grahamstown at 10.00AM, and took in the daunting depths beneath the bridge whilst we munched on Steers burgers for lunch. At this point we were optimistic enough to believe we could reach Simon’s house by 17.00PM that evening. To be sure, Luke and I could have made it in that time – if we weren’t dogged by the string of bad luck that attached itself to Simon from that moment onward.

Our first setback occurred when we reached the Tsitsikama Toll Plaza and Simon realised he had forgotten to draw cash at Storm’s River Bridge (a good half hour’s drive back) to pay entry. Now, this could have easily been rectified if Luke and I had waited on the other side of the Toll to pay Simon’s way for him. However, we had continued driving along blithely unaware that Simon had been turned back and so he had to take an hour to re-travel the route and get his cash. By the time he called to explain the situation, we were about half an hour further up the road and ended up stopping off at a little petrol station to wait it out.

Finally all together again, we made our way towards Knysna thinking that our troubles were at an end. Alas, it was not so. Just as we were about to leave Knysna’s sinuous roads, Simon was pulled over by a traffic officer. The reason? Simon’s elderly Toyota Corolla (for which many people have offered Simon money – something about it being easy to get spare parts for and “soup up”) did not have a front number plate. Unfortunately the poor car had met with a minor accident the previous week, and so its number plate was sitting on Simon’s backseat waiting to be reattached once he got home to Cape Town. One R500 fine later, and we were off again.

Surely we were entitled to a respite from any further setbacks on our journey now? Murphy’s law was however fully functioning on that day and so when we reached a Stop-and-Go Luke and I were counting our lucky stars when we were allowed to go through, and then cursing Simon’s luck when we realised he had been forced to stop. Thus, even though we had not been stopped along with Simon, we had to stop on the other side of it and wait for him anyway!

By the time we were reunited once more, dark had fallen and it had begun to rain in sympathy with our dejected moods. A pick-me-up was much needed, and so we stopped off at a KFC to pick up some Sprinkle Pops and commiserate in company before attempting the road again. We finally happened upon Cape Town at about 22.00PM, and my word was it breath-taking to round the curve of a hill and gaze upon the sparkling city lights bordered by the dark expanse of sea. Although it was five hours later than expected, we had finally arrived at Simon’s home: a well-situated house nestling just beneath TableMountain and two buildings up from a night club, and Luke’s parallel parking skills were tested to the limits on the almost vertically inclined road. An exhausted greeting of Simon’s parents was extended and they quickly made us feel completely at home – although perhaps at the expense of Simon as we were given his room and he was made to sleep on the couch (sorry Simon).

Basking in Midwinter Sunshine at Lalanathi

One human trait I share with my kind is to attempt a task and if at first it proves unsuccessful, to adjust and try again. So now that I have had a good look at the mountainous backlog of traveling memories I wish to share with you, I have quailed at the mission and (perhaps cowardly) decided to bring you up to date on my most recent camping experience and then catch up the last five years worth of experiences - when I have the time and inspiration.

2 July 2012

Mid-winter in South Africa Kwa-Zulu Natal. Not an ideal time to consider leaving your warm and cozy home in favor of a canvas sheet between you and the frigid night air. This way of thinking would be true if the direction in which you were foolishly heading was the Drakensberg. However Durban is commonly described as the "warmest place to be" and for good reason. By 9am the sun is up and dancing the chill away leaving a refreshing wind in its afternoon wake. Admittedly the nights are on the cold side of a bacon sandwich left in the fridge but a hot chicken poitjie with a cup of Milo to follow is a tried and tested cure to any goosebumps one may experience.

Lalanathi Caravan & Camping Park was our chosen place of invasion from the 28 June to the 2 July 2012. My group of fellow campers included Luke, his father Andrew, step-mum Petro, brother James (age 15), and his sister Kelsey who was on the verge of her thirteenth birthday when we arrived at the sunny beach location on the Thursday afternoon at 3.30pm having traveled two hours from Hilton. A quick investigation of the tents needed to be set up resulted in the hilarious realization that the wrong tent bag had been brought along to house James. This one consisted of all the tent spares and in fact contained no tent. The fact that its zip had been painted bright red and its side was marred by a large gash had apparently not registered in Andrew's slightly scatterbrained mind that perhaps this was the incorrect tent bag. Petro and Andy promptly roared off in their bakkie in search of a new home for James whilst leaving us to set up the rest of camp as best we could. This usually consists of a gazebo, several black ammunition boxes containing our supplies of food, and crockery, cooking utensils, chairs, wind breaker wall, gas cylinders, the Cob, cool boxes, and plastic tables. With reference to the black ammunition boxes (a necessity in the berg when you need to prevent persistent monkeys from getting at your food), many a cry of "Daaad, where's the (insert object of your choice)?" has been answered with: "In the black box!" Bear in mind that there are several said black boxes, and hence the reply is totally unhelpful in identifying which one contains the desired object. Frustration! Upon the parents triumphant return from the shops with the much awaited Camp Master tent, huge hilarity resulted at the discovery that the tent appeared to be made for miniature humans. James is a growing teenage boy poised to overtake his father in height - now imagine that tall lanky body trying to fit into a tent built to house a six year old. Our giggles lasted well into the night at James' expense, and just when I began to get a grip on myself Petro added her quirky sense of humor to the situation (which really didn't need it) and told James' to "quit making a mountain out of a molehill" in response to his legitimate complaints. In the end we discovered that James could fit (barely) in the tent by maneuvering himself between diagonal corners and making full use of the fetal position he was born into. Supper consisted of initiating Andrew's father's day gift, a Cob wok, with beef stir fry and Special Chinese "flied lice" (translated: Fried rice).

The next day was Kelsey's birthday and as per her instructions we were treated to muffins on the beach for breakfast. My gift to her of a jar full of sweets went down well, and her new Blackberry was well used by the end of the day. Welcome to the addictive world of social networking through Facebook, BBM (Black Berry Messenger) and WhatsApp Kelsey! A stroll along the coarsely sanded beach front collecting shells left my feet feeling fully pedicured and my stomach feeling rather empty - lunch!A Snack Attack meal later (made up of biscuits, cheese, cucumber, carrots, and other salad-ish things) and we directed our feet towards Banana Beach. The rising wind signaled the end to our azure sky and beaming sunlight, and a braai left us feeling satisfied and ready for bed.

Kelsey's friend Lara arrived the following afternoon once we had completed a long morning walk on the beach in search of the shipwreck - a sight that was not all that momentous although the stroll was enjoyable. Luke and I were sent off in our little Bantam bakkie to scavenge out the necessities - ice and braaikets. We made a bad decision and chose Hibberdene as our shopping destination. It was a horrendous experience, with its Village Mall being full of all that is distasteful in South Africa: Cackling women blocking the aisles without consideration for others, other shoppers encroaching on one's personal space, filthy floors that made me regret not wearing shoes for fear of disease, and cashiers that had no interest in good service delivery. Avoid Hibberdene Village Mall! Choose Port Shepstone or Shelly Beach instead. Back at camp we were greeted by a note saying: At the beach - Come join us! Which we did. That evening we made Luke's Oupa's famous chicken poitjie which finally satisfied Luke's year long craving. Petro's fresh steaming hot Cob bread was the perfect compliment to the meal.

On the first day of the new month we chose to spend our morning swimming at Banana Beach - yes, swimming in winter! To the sound of crashing waves I managed to douse myself in my dripping mint ice-cream although I pride myself in managing to get 80% of it to my oral cavity. The wind picked up earlier than usual and we were shooed firmly back to camp by lunchtime. Luke and his family made use of the communal pool table in the common room which also holds a television for those sport-crazed fans that cannot miss a game (of which I am one when it comes to Wimbledon). For supper we all made the 10 minute drive to Shelly Beach's Chinese restaurant, Long Feng. Luke and I have been going there with my family for the last five years so when our favorite waitress attended our table of seven she smiled towards Luke and said: "So you are down here with your family now?" This familiarity gave me a warm glow that had only a small portion to do with the amazingly yummy sweet and sour pork I ordered. The kids loved their food as well, which was a victory on my part because they are the toughest critics to impress when it comes to any abnormal sustenance.

The final morning was spent packing up camp and saying farewell to the friendly new owners (they only took over the campsite in January), the unruly flock of guinea fowl, the swimming pool, the hot showers and the sparkling clean ablution blocks. The power points distributed throughout were a great help, although the taps were a little more infrequently placed than I would have liked so next time we'll be sure to take along a water can to keep full at the campsite. Something else that was lacking was a braai place, for which we had to borrow from the owners. Be sure to take your own braai if you ever make the right life choice to visit quaint Lalanathi. The minute long walk through the bush to get to the beach means that this campsite has a great proximity to the sea as well as Banana Beach. I loved this place, and I'm so grateful to Luke's family for including me in their holiday plans. Be sure to try it when you're in the area!

There and Back Again - A Hiltonian's Tale.

Having spent many hours musing over which travel experience I should first share with you, I have decided to begin with my very first memorable one - an unsurprising conclusion to my pondering and deserving of the comment: "Duh".

Born and bred in the little English-like village of Hilton, Kwazulu Natal, I grew up gazing at the Inhlosane through the car window on  my morning drive to school. Admittedly I was usually in a sleepy daze and the view was usually hampered by the ever-present mist that blankets our town in a cozy whiteness reminiscent of the inside of a ping pong ball. The name Inhlosane is the Zulu translation for "The Maiden's Breast" - an accurate description of the mountain that forms the corner boundary to several farms in the rolling green serenity affectionately known as the Midlands.

In 2007 Luke and I were still in the nervous beginnings of our new relationship, the point at which you dare not blow your nose in front of your significant other for fear of sounding like an elephant with its trunk immersed in a swamp. For this reason, my excitement for stretching my fifteen year old legs on a much loved morning hike up the Inhlosane was tinged with apprehension at how attractive Luke would find me once my disloyal body dispelled my Wonder Woman aura by sweating - alas that I am forced to suffer from this human tendency!

On the day of our planned hike we woke early to long shadows and a clear crisp African sky stretching azure and limitless above us. When Luke's maroon Ford bakkie (named Rufus - don't ask me why) pulled up to my house, it became clear I would have to squeeze into the five-seated vehicle with five other people. Luckily the group consisted of Andrew (Luke's dad), Luke's sprightly six year old sister Kelsey with arms and legs like noodles and the fat content of a button, Luke's eleven year old brother James who was built along the same lines as his sister due to his fussy nature when it came to food (many a meal was accompanied by the words: "Daaaad, what's that white thing?" to which his father would sigh deeply and reply: "James, it's rice - just eat it!"), and finally James's friend who shall forever be known to me as the Energizer Bunny. I say "luckily" because having three very small people in the car with three normal sized people made the 45 minute drive to the mountain far more comfortable than expected.

We started our actual hike up the Inhlosane from a farm based at the back of the mountain. It didn't cost a cent although Andrew did phone the farm owners beforehand to obtain their permission to the parking of Rufus on their property. The first section was very gentle as we were tramping along the flat meadows grazed by the local livestock of cows, cows and more cows. Once we had hopped, skipped and jumped our way past the landmines left by said cows and the trenches formed by meandering streams, it was time to charge the steep incline that made up most of the hike. Up one hill, down a cleft, only to climb the next section to higher heights was exhausting but highly rewarding at the same time. Luke and I strolled at a reasonable if somewhat breathless pace, holding hands and chatting our way through our life stories, future goals, likes and dislikes. Not far behind us Kelsey ambled along in a dwaal, and behind her Andrew constantly encouraged his faltering son James to keep going. The first of our little group to make the top of the mountain was the Energizer Bunny - surprise surprise. That boy bounced up the mountain like a goat on steroids a full half hour earlier than Luke and myself!

All in all the hike to the top spanned about two hours. Had we all been fit and healthy adults it most certainly would have taken less time, so bear that in mind if you ever decide to 'take a hike' (so to speak). Sitting on a big rock, munching on biltong, apples and other yummy things, the term that most aptly described the stretch of farmland so far below me was "patchwork quilt". It became clear to me just how much we as a human race worship symmetry, with all the roads, fences, avenues of Plane trees and even rivers being manipulated towards a straight and square world defined by boundaries. To be sitting so far above that hazy view, in a detached way I felt that I had no boundaries. I believe that this feeling of elation and self-sustaining freedom is the root to my addiction to getting myself lost in nature, and true to the definition of every addict I would not give up my total immersion in God's splendid Earth for all the cheddar cheese in the world (Wallace: "Cheeeeese Gromit!").

An hour long jaunt down the mountain had Luke and I waiting by Rufus first. Unfortunately by this time Luke was suffering from a raging thirst. His need was so great he even attempted drinking from the windscreen washer before he was abruptly made to realise that this water contained soap. When his family arrived half an hour later, he begged his father to stop off at the nearest shop for something to drink. After five minutes of driving Andrew stopped the car midway across a bridge and pointed to the river flowing beneath us with a grin on his face. Luke got the point and made do with the cold fresh berg water - officially the most thirst-quenching and delicious water to be had in Africa!

The morning hike was a success, and the only major cost was the petrol required to get there and back. To this day, it remains one of my fondest memories and I strongly recommend anyone and everyone in the area to make the half-day trip to the top the Inhlosane as it is one of the most rewarding experiences to be had on a sunny day in the Midlands.