cham pix

The view of Chamonix from my bedroom window-nice.

Chammmmonnnnnnnnnn

Arrived Sat to a hotel over looking the sun kissed lawns of the Brevent nursery slopes. The weather was fantastic as we 20 rookie resort managers sat in the dining room which is now, for about 9 hours a day (no including breaks and lunch) our classroom. Fantastic that is until the sun comes round at about 11 am and hits everyone's back. It's minus 5 outside so we can't open the windows but those too slow to sit near the front (bit of a paradox) get cooked.

The subjects range from accounting to brand knowledge, employment contracts and mountain safety to corporate insurance, from food hygiene to IT. Sure it isn't rocket surgery but from about 9 am till 6, 7 8 or even 9.30 pm it's relentless and downright heavy going. The bunch are Ok, pretty much a mixed bag. Most of them eat, drink and smoke as much as possible which means I am one of the first to bed most nights (about midnight up at 7.30)- a little embarrassing but this isn't a sprint, it's a 5 month marathon to see who's standing in the Spring and who's given up. Plus I am past trying to impress anyone- least of all 24 year olds who want to eat, drink and smoke.

I have made every effort to get out and do some fitness, the alternative being to stay in all day and develop a fuzzy brain which compounds day after day. I went swimming this evening down the local leisure centre. It wasn't funny when I got chucked out of the pool for wearing shorts rather than trunks. I stretched my schoolboy French to rent (yes, rent) a pair, I then stretched my rental Speedos to the point they were almost but not quite transparent and ventured back into the pool. Somewhat self conscious by the lack of fabric about my personage I was forgetting this is France and no body cares about such things (except the life guard who chucked me out to start with)

More of the same till next Wednesday when I drive up to Tignes to see my 2 Chefs on their training. Maybe I'll get some photos together- maybe I won't.

The Cop Out

Obviously I have been catching up on these pages 'as and when' and the clock has beaten me. There were a few more days in CapeTown and a day in Namibia where I chased Zebra on foot in a nature reserve which were worth a mention but will have to wait. In an hour I leave for Chamonix for the start of my new ski job, I have no idea when I shall be able to update this again but I will try.
Catchya later.
Chris

Back in Durban..........

After seeing off D 'n D from Hippo Hide I kept an appointment with Ana and the beach. The sun was shining, we got into town on one of those great minibusses that whizz around with truly deafening but quite cool music pumping out of them. You never quite know where they are going but you get in, nod to your fellow passengers (speaking above the bass is out of the question) and pass some loose change to the conductor- the driver's buddy. It's cheap and fun.

The beach was pretty much deserted so I got on finally with my task of looking like a Brit on holiday by burning some red patches onto my torso. Ana, who prides herself on being one of the last people to still use up her baggage entitlement on planes with used 35mm film took photos of surfers.
We had an appointment to meet Helen in the city so after a quick haircut we picked her up and grabbed the biggest chicken Kebab I have ever seen. No wonder there was a queue a mile long at the shop- it cost £1. Following the success of my silk sleeping bag I had a vague notion of buying some black silk to make a fitted liner for my sleeping bag and we set off on a quest to find some. The search took us all around the Indian markets, haberdasherss and bridal shops. It, as usual, ended in vain but the girls became more committed than I and the effect of walking into a shop full of chattering Asian women which goes silent before one is approached but a reluctant elderly male shop owner is quite interesting.

The day dragged on to the point where we needed a drink, so we had one in a park full of drunks who wanted, quite benignly to talk to us. They felt the sharp end of mine and Ana's complementary wit but didn't seem to notice. We grabbed a bus back to between the hostel and Helen's children's home but decided we should visit while we were in the neighbourhood. Helen had painted a very grim picture of the home which was nothing like as bad as I was anticipating.Unfortunatelyy nothing could have prepared us for the state of her room which, for a sweet little package like her was simply astounding. After doing my usual and allowing myself to be used as a climbing frame for the lads and celebrity for the girls we all went out for curry. Bunny Chow, a local delicasy'- half a big loaf of bread, hollowed out and filled with curry for- you guessed it- a quid was the order of the day- by now I was oozing curry from my pores. The walk back to the hostel from the curry place, heavily laded was tough because not only uphill but skirting what the hairs on the back of my neck (and later a garage attendant) told me was an area we should not be walking in.
And that was that, next morning, bright and early I caught a flight back to Cape Town and, due to lack of space rather than lack of imagination back to Zebra Crossing backpackers..

Hooray- sunshine

This time when I woke up in the Zulu hut and looked out of the window it wasn't raining. Cloudy but definitely dry. After a fry up we drove into Underburg town and picked up the 4x4's which would drive us to the independent state of Lesotho (pronounced Lesootoo). It is no 9 in the Worlds ten poorest nations, I can't remember Michael Moor exactly but something like 500 individual Americans are worth more than all ten put together- so it's well poor.
We drove along countless mile of sandy track with the back end twitching so much I wondered why we had bothered getting the off roader. A brief conversation with the local driver elicited that he had done this journey every say for the last 7 years- he was obviously bored and just messing around. Eventually we started to go up, up some more and then very up to the point where the scenery changed to sky. This was Sani Pass- a back road between the two countries and the shitiest posting imaginable for a South African customs officer.

After hanging around a bit at the Lesotho customs building- a shed of the ubiquitous wriggly tin, we headed to the highest pub in Africa for lunch- road kill chicken curry. A leisurely repost and a few beers and we mounted up and went to visit a nearby village of the besotho people. They were poor, very poor but we were invited in to one of their huts and told all about how they live. Tried some of their bread and asked a few questions of the woman. They have a pretty rough life, plucked from their own family and village when any Tom, Dick or Nkomo who can give their father 24 sheep takes a shine to her. She builds a house has his kids, makes food to sell and all that while he sits in the hills with his mates drinking and smoking weed. He nips home every now and then with his flock but that it. We took some photos, the men who were there always had their hands out for money wanting tips. I obliged- 'always apply your blusher with upward strokes' and ' never plant your begonias before the last frost'. I rather crassly pointed out that since all males are crudely circumcised at the age of 18, the guy doing the business was the one getting all the tips. Groans all round.
I wasn't long before we'ed all had enough not to mention being cold- were were at about 4000m. We began the hairy decent into SA and finally go the view we came for- the Lake District . At the bottom of the hill (2 1/2 hours later) Piet was waiting for us with the minibus so after a quick stop to allow everyone to stock up on pies we turned for Durban. Arriving tired and arse numbed again to Hippo Hide I was surprised and delighted to find my old buddies Dana and Dan booking in. After a tearful reunion they told me how they had planned to go walking on the morning of the fire but stepped out to find the locals rounding up their pets. Enquiries revealed that the town's evacuation plan had been initiated and they were sent back to the hostel. The hostel owner whose responsibility they were was slightly more concerned by the fact that the fires were 100 m away from his wooden house so eventually they were taken under the wing of the local fire chief who, not surprisingly had his hands a bit full. He therefore dragged took them around in his Jeep to survey extent of the fires and the damage so they got almost as good a view as me. After a few beers they were very keen that I should join them on their trip to the Drakensburgs but Ihad already booked a flight back to Cape Town and going off with them would have cut things fine for my flight home- ah well. It was great to see them anyway.
I have no idea why this is suddenly writing in italics but Ican't stop it.

Another rainy day

Dawn broke early (as dawn does in the late Spring) through the little window of our Zulu hut and I immediately got up, avoiding the wooden beam 8 inches above my forehead, to check the weather. It was bad. So bad that I was feeling negative about the day's planned walking in the hills. Given that I couldn't even see the hills for low cloud and I could easily get wet at home it's a good job Piet came in to make breakfast and distracted me. This was not before I noticed that both Ana and Helen were missing from their beds and I feared I had overslept or worse, there had been an alien abduction but they hadn't wanted me.
After we had scoffed and given him our empties to wash up we scrambled aboard the minibus bound for the ranger station. While Piet went in to check if we would be allowed to walk in the conditions we chatted and fell into 3 distinct groups. Firstly the keenies, led by Kel who wanted to walk no matter what, the dissenters led by Derek who definitely didn't and the non committals who said nothing but looked out of the steamed up windows at the falling rain forlornly. (He who has no grass must look forlorn- Mao). I confess to standing near, if not in, Derek's camp but regretted missing the opportunity to appear super tough, by acting keen but then being prevented from walking when Piet returned saying it was a no go.

This gave Piet a small problem familiar to most parents- a car full who need to be entertained on a rainy day. Our first distraction was the local museum which wasn't all bad. I may not have driven there especially for it but compared to sitting in pub it was cheaper and more educational.
Second was a cheese farm- you can't go wrong with cheese and I splashed out on a block of their own creamy cheddar- little did I know that this would, a week later prevent me from getting robbed. Stuffed with cheese we went to an art gallery/shop. It was nice but so small we had to choreograph our movements about the place, so nicely fitted out I felt guilty for dripping in there and finally, since paintings don't go well into backpacks I was never going to buy anything.

We tootled back to the huts for lunch and then for the highlight of the weekend went quad biking. The heavens were still dumping on us the first of the 'Summer rains' that should have arrived in September- of all the weekends to arrive late! Now, just to save my fingers I want you to imagine all the superlatives and hyperbole you would apply to an exciting sport- quad biking was it. I had a bloody great time. I got as wet as if I had ridden through a swollen river- which I had, several times. Such was the size of my smile and the flying grit that I was still crunching it in my mouth two days later. And for the record- I was awesome. After the hour we booked, Grant the owner asked us if we wanted to go back in, the guys shouted 'no' first and off we went again, roaming the hills and catching glimpses of Ibex antelope. My pants were so dirty if they hadn't been the only ones with me I would have thrown them away. It took a jet wash at the farm and 20 mins in the shower to get them halfway wearable, you can see the difference in the two pictures. Eventually we headed for home (well the huts) full of ourselves.

I said "coooo, imagine riding around on those all day, what a great job that would be".
The reply " your'e getting paid to go skiing in a top resort for 5 months, you cheeky twat!"
ohhhhhh yeah!

We stopped off at the shops to take all their free newspapers for stuffing our sodden footwear and stocked up on wine, it being too late to catch the Chelsea match at the pub- shame (not). By the time Piet had cooked our dinner the skies were clearing so we got a good white man's fire going. (A fire so big you have to stand away from it rather than an Indian (sorry, Native American) fire which is small so you can stand close but nowhere near as much fun. Eventually we got fed up with the smoke following us round and went to bed.

Drakensburg- Darkensburg

After a full sales job by me and Sandra, Ana (on the left of photo) signed up for the Drakensburg trip and we were collected early the next morning by full on Afrikaans, Pieter. Also in the full to brimming mini bus were Helen, diminutive Swedish face puller (who was actually very pretty-click on dark photo below- she's doing it again)) and at only 19 was volunteering in a children's home on her own. Using this photo is actually a mean trick because she was totally sweet. Derek, a Police Inspector from Eire who was also volunteering at a different aids orphanage (in burgundy) and a handful of other's (Edwin, Kel, Jane and whatser name) who were also doing volunteer stuff with Derek and this scruffy loafer who was just enjoying himself without thinking about aids orphans or anything- on right of photo below.

On arrival after an arse breaking 3 hour journey in the rain we moved into our Zulu huts and plodded down to the farm for a bit of horse riding in the mountains. Sadly we couldn't see any mountains for the low cloud and it was decided we'd go in the forests instead. I was allocated my mount- Chester who turned out to be an even bigger pain in the backside both literally and metaphorically. At first I thought that the fact that I wouldn't let him do what he wanted and he wouldn't let me do what I wanted was down to the language barrier. However, after a 10 minute battle of wills which often saw us spinning in circles or him trying to have me off I was told he was a bit 'moody' and the owner generously cut me a stick with the recommendation I 'be firm with him'. Well I was and it finally paid off when I got a good canter out of him just as we got back to the farm. Soaking wet through and very chaffed about the upper thighs we headed back to our huts and a nice cup of tea (not me and Chester, me and the others- I wouldn't give him the middle of a Polo mint never mind a cup of tea).

And I know I should have my heels down.

After that I went to town to help Piet with the food shopping and checked out the local. It was only right that once he had cooked our dinner that he should drive us into town so we could drink in the pub till the early hours while he waited to drive us back- so that's exactly what we did. We all slept well but the blokes agreed that horse riding wasn't so great as we remembered it.

The Big Day Off

After the aquarium Sandra and I headed home- she was already feeling the effects of saying "I don't mind when we eat" which I took to mean that she didn't mind when she ate. Of course it meant "I need to eat now" and I, being the thoughtless bastard I am postponed the event causing her to lose all interest in life. She bucked up when we met Canadian nurse Ana in the hostel and they found that they were both born in the same area of Portugal- like you do. After a quick conversation in fluent Portugeser we all adjourned for a curry, the second since arriving in Durban the day before.
Sadly Sandra left early the next morning for the East Coast and the World was a darker place. This was especially annoying because, with Ana on a township tour I was left to my own devices and planned to take it easy- well easier. After a bit of laundry (taking the bag to the laundry) I planned to catch a bus the few short miles to the Cricket stadium where SA were playing NZ. I worked out how to get there, the best gates to use and all that and was just about to set off when the reason for the darkness became clear. Bolts of lightning and claps of thunder heralded the abandonment of the match so in flickering light I was left with nothing much to do but read a bit of Wilbur and think about what sort of curry to have.

Escape from Banana backpackers

Firstly, if you didn't know you can enlarge photos by clicking on them. Secondly I was trying to delete the spam comments and made a mistake- sorry Pippa I deleted yours instead.
As all comments are anonymous it would be very nice if you would sign them or write to my normal email at chris@willett69.fsnet.co.uk so I know who's reading this- ta.

Morning broke to the sound of heavy traffic at Banana backpackers and after a shower in a cubicle with a half length door designed for midgets and hence rather 'open' I did my best to cobble together enough crockery for breakfast. Lucky for me the best thing to eat while backpacking is cereal (easily transported in a bag), coffee and orange juice (Cape oranges naturally). If I've been shopping recently a yogurt goes down well too. That's lucky because it's what I eat at home. Also in the kitchen was Sandra so as we ate breakfast together we took turns in listing the shortcomings of our accommodation.

Neither of us had much of a plan for the day so we headed off to explore the city together. The night before the travel desk within the hostel had tried to sell me a 3 day package to the Drakensburg mountains for £250. It was tempting because it included everything and by the time I had hired a car and got food etc it would have cost me nearly as much. Also it is dangerous to walk alone in the area for both mountain and local people reasons and permits are not issued to lone walkers- which means you have to go without a permit and take even greater risks. Not wishing to commit to the first offer I got myself penciled in but didn't pay a deposit.

One of our first stops that day was the tourist info office and after breaking into a lion enclosure for illegal photos (she is a scamp that Sandra, leading me astray) I made some enquires about things to do. Immediately I found the same tour to the mountains with the same company for £200 and booked it there and then- result. What we also did is find out which was the best backpacker's in the city. A quick phone call to then secured us two beds and a transfer minibus which would pick us up outside Banana 20 mins later. We raced back, threw our gear into or packs asap and after some prevaricating with the receptionist along the lines of "we know we booked for 3 nights but have just managed to get last minute places on a safari- bye", did a runner. The bloke from the tourist desk grabbed me and said "before you go have you got the money for that Drakensburg trip?" "Ahhh welllll, it's like this......."

After getting settled in the superior Hippo Hide Hostel which, despite being in the burbs cannot be faulted in any other way we went back in town. It was lunchtime and I quickly learnt that the delightful Sandra is a veritable little bundle of infectious joy- until she gets hungry so we 'did lunch'. While eating we noticed a kid on the sea front who had painted his body parts and was doing the human statue thing more often seen in Barcelona or Paris. While is act was slightly lacking in polish we were both impressed how he overcame huge pressure to crack as countless other kids paid a few pence to see him do a little dance or some amateur robotics before returning to a fixed pose and laughed at him throughout the routine. We pooled our shrapnel and topped up his collection tray every five minutes occasionally dancing with him so the kids laughed at us instead. After a long walk along the sea front we went to the aquarium- one of the top attractions.

The whole set up is impressive, apart from the Dolphin display pool and all that the actual building is an old container ship which has wrecked and you walk around the hold or cabin areas looking out in to the sea and the fish- brilliant.

touchdown Durban

The flight from Port Elizabeth (P.E) was only 30 quid with BA owned airline Kulula and it was very different. The crew made a point of entertaining as well as flying with a comedy routine which ran from take off to touch down and was a little sharp at times. eg "as CD plyers, mobile phones, laptop computers, lawn mowers and battery operted vibrating devices can effect navigation systems we ask you to switch them off until the seatbelt light goes off", "note the brace position is for emergencies only and not becasue you need a hug", "we are now taxiing for take off, please put your seats in the upright position, stow your table and cross your fingers". "If cabin pressure is lost, stop screaming and slap anyone else who is still screaming, fit your own mask before attempting to help children or passengers behaving like children","smoke detectors are fitted in the toilets and should anyone activate them they will be required to leave the aircraft immediately", and "please check your belongings before leaving the aircraft as with Christmas coming the cabin crew are on the lookout for MP3 players, cameras and mobile phones"- it went on and there's no way I could remember all the gags.

Durban was hot with it's own fierce winds, although not as bad as PE where the same winds that blew the fires was literally blowing ground crew off their feet on the airport tarmac. I caught a shuttle bus to Banana backpackers which I had booked for 3 nights. On arrival I was immediately disappointed as the building was a run down block of flats. Inside was worse and when she asked for payment up front I said I only had enough money for one night on me. The whole place was filthy, the bedding was only an old prison blanket for which they wanted a R20 deposit- luckily I had my sleeping bag. There were a couple of old men living in the dorm which gives you some idea of what the place was like. With a brothel on either side and a kitchen so bad it barely warrants the title- complete with leaking gas. I went for a walk to the beach which at 500m was the one saving grace of the place, however, I was told to be back in for 5.30 when it became dangerous for me to be in the area. Of course this made getting food difficult and I was forced to get a take away delivered, opting for a chicken tikka wrap it was the first of many curries in this town of Indian immigrants.
At about 9.30 I was approached by my roomie, Vincenzo from Trieste who wanted to go out to watch the Uventus match. Initially my reaction was negative because I have no interest in football but then I realised that we had actually formed an escape committee and we hit the mean streets. Vince was as tall as me and had a charming accent which made him very likeable so I didn't anticpate many problems. He worked in Wolverhampton for while so we had plenty to talk about as we loped from bar to bar in search of sky sports 7. Ultimately our quest was fruitless but we had achieved a credible bar crawl and finally settled for a few games of pool and a bit of Man U in one of those places where everything is painted black. We were constanly told by locals, hotel doormen etc that it wasn't safe for us to be out but apart from the odd beggar who gave up in the face of a determined stride we experienced no hostility.
Things did take a turn for the worse when we returned to Banana at 1 am to find we were locked out. Although confident, my attempts to break in were hampered by the clients of the the neighbouring premises leaving for home (or wherever). Eventually Vince saved the day by using the last few seconds of talktime to call the building's security company. Sure enough within a few minutes a security guard rushed from the adjacent 'Sonja's' massage parlour and let us in.

death drive to P.E

I was woken at 4 am by the rattling curtains and the smell of smoke. The wind had picked up to 60 mph (I didn't know that at the time- it was on the radio, I'd have guessed at 58) and was hot. My brain was struggling to work out the direction but I knew it was bad- very bad, having the effect of a blast furnace on the forest fires. I dozed till 6.30 then dragged myself up. Ann Marie was also in the dorm and she always liked sharing with me because being old and German she chose to get up very early. Being restless and needing a wee after beer the night before I also chose to get up early and she didn't feel bad about disturbing the lazy teenagers by herself.A quick breakfast with Dan who had spent the night holding down his tent and I hit the road- leaving my prized tin of coffee behind and saying farewell to D 'n D who would be sorely missed.
Within about 20 miles the result of the wind on the fires was very apparent and I was directred off the main road onto a side road, following a truck and a car. After about 10 miles of being surrounded by smoke things started to get interesting to say the least.
I started to shoot with the camera as I was driving along- here is the pick of the photos.

Seeing the fires in the distance.









Following them into the smoke.


As soon as we were in it we stopped. My eyes were itching and the flames were blasting the car which was full of smoke. I reversed out of it (took photo) then went back in after a minute, visibility was zero and I was afraid of bumping the other car from behind and activating the fuel cut off which would have seen me fry for sure.

You can see how close the car is to the back of the lorry in the previous photo, it hasn't changed but look closely at the visibilty between the car and lorry.




I didn't use zoom or anything, just took photos out of the window as we drove along at about 20 mph.







By now I was having serious thoughts and it finally dawned that if I didn't keep moving it really was curtains. I was so far into it that getting out of the car and running was not an option and if I stopped again the car was likely to go up.


Eventually we started to come out the other side.



The skys were black for about a 100 miles with emergency vehicles and roadblocks all over the place.






I put my foot down and raced to Port Elizabeth airport where I caught a flight to Durban. D'nD had an interesting time back at the hostel which is for later.

Plett and beyond

We again met Pat in the hostel, and also another regular AnnMarie who was well past her 60's and from Germany. We spent many a minute chattering away in German which made me feel better for having lugged my German books here and only opened the dictionary once- to hide some surplus cash. It appeared that Pat had planned to go to the same elephant sanctuary as us but being one of the many who were committed to using the Bazbus she had to pay for transport from the hostel. Of course we gave her a lift and the merry band set off.
The elephant sanctuary promised elephant interaction and they didn't disappoint.
A selected few went to collect them from the field and led them into a woodland clearing by holding their trunks like in the jungle book- I couldn't get the marching music out of my head. (Now I've thought about it it's stuck there again- two three four). We were introduced to the young cows and shown some of the things they would do in the wild. Then we got up close and personal- very personal.
After the elephant stuff we sat drinking free orange juice with their keeper in the gardens and toyed with the idea of going to Monkeyworld next door.

In the end we had to, if only because we knew two German girls who worked there. When I say knew- we had shared several dorms with them over the preceding week (they had a few days off) but they had always been asleep no matter what the time of day or night.

Monkeyworld is an area of forest with netting around the outside and home to lots of monkeys- no surprises there.We walked around with them jumping freely around our heads and as they appeared the guide would tell us about them and where they come from etc. It was quite good though spoilt, as was the elephant experience now and then by little brats who wanted to screech over the guides talk and payed no attention to the animals until they did a wee, when they became enthralled. Pat bought us lunch.
Next stop on our busy day was the highest bungie jump in the world- dunno why but I didn't bother. Then onto Storms River which is where the river Storm enters the sea from a spectacular gorge. By now the air was a bit smoky from nearby forest fires but didn't effect us too much. Storms river was very scenic and Dan and I clambered upto a view point while Pat and Dana- didn't.
Although the three amigos planned to stay in a hostel near Storms river we could drive Pat back to Plett then, after a quick curry drove the same road for a forth time back to Storms river and our hostel the Tube 'n Axe. En route we watched the forest fires in the dark and felt relieved there was no wind as the hostel was deep in the woods. It was a very big day out and I was knackered. D 'n D had a tent on a platform in the garden which they more than deserved. This pic was actually taken at 4 pm on a sunny afternoon, you can see the effect of the smoke.

Elephants in the woods

The morning after we decided to spend the day walking and a few of the Knysna locals recommended the local forests- not least because there are supposed to be elephants in there. The area is so big nobody has seen them for about 5 years but since it's free we drove the 9 km up a dusty track to check it out. We issued ourselves with trekking permits and wandered off into the woodland. Unfortunately that's about all that could be said for it. The Amazon rainforest CD was playing in the background which was nice but otherwise all we saw was an awful lot of trees and each other's backsides as the order of march changed throughout the day. D 'n D were excellent company and the fact that it was free, we got some exercise and had a laugh about how boring it was made it OK. We decided also to have an ice cream every afternoon- and did!

We hit the road again, our next stop for the night being the picturesque Plettenburg Bay- or Plett. We booked into the excellent Nontando hostel which D n'D thought they had pre booked. The self titled 'general manager' took issue when he couldn't find their booking and was a bit funny until I said "have you got space?" When he replied "yes" I think my point was made that the booking was irrelevant. He made a big play about showing us around and was probably one of the weirdest people I have met. Sticking to my no cooking policy I dragged my companions out to a recommended restaurant and ordered a huge lamb shank before their eyes. Dana elected for soup and Dan, whose eating habits he would agree are unusual declined everything. He would frequently say how his day is free of the structure of meal times and make fun of me when I started to get hungry at lunch or dinner time. He ate nothing vegetable or mineral- just animal, proclaiming 'veg is what he eats, eats'. While I admire the cleverness of this statement I wished he would reconsider his one meal a day of only meat with lots of coffee and ice cream through the day. Anyway, the lamb was fantastic- it must have been cooking for a week they way the meat fell off (I had veg too) and he cracked, putting the chef under pressure to produce a spag bol in record time which he went on to demolish in record time.
Back to the hostel for a few beers and a game of pool.

Knysna

A morning driving with D'n D was pleasant as we got to know each other. They are Israeli (which is nice because lots of you recommended Israel as a good place to visit- tee hee), both swots with good degrees in industrial engineering or something and live on a Kibutz in an apartment with a kitchen smaller than a pool table. They are serious travellers- more serious than me because I fold my clothes into a block before putting them into my pack which keeps them tidy and provides a regular shape to pack around. Being hardcore they stuff their clothes into any available space in their packs. They have been all over the place and have great stories to tell. What's more they are a lovely genuine couple who got married a month ago but still sleep in a dorm (I've said it before and I'll say it again- clever people with degrees and common sense, rarely in the same place at the same time). So, now you know them as well as I do if you fancy a visit to the Holy Land you are sorted.
We hit Knysna and did the rounds of hostels opting for the Highfields. We should have been alerted by the semi comatose receptionist but gave her the benefit and after a poor inspection we booked beds and on the recommendation of the narcoleptic receptionist began the 40 minute walk up the the Heads. These are the mountain peaks which guard the bay from the ocean in spectacular fashion. After an hour walking we cut our loses and went back for the car. A 20 minute DRIVE found us on the heads and we spent the best part of an hour gawping at the awesome view and the millionaires mansions nearby. The sea air increased our craving for the ice creams we had promised ourselves several hours before. All sceneried out we drove down to the nearby beach and tested the water in which small boys were splashing- it was bloody cold. Eventually we overheard one of the aforementioned samll boys asking his mum if they could go for ice creams. Pester power being universal, she agreed and we hatched a plan to follow them having failed all afternoon to find even a corner shop selling ice pops. Having had some training in surveillance you'd think I'd have been good but a one car follow with 3 obvious foreigners dribbling is never going to be great. After about 10 minutes we ended up at the destination of out targets- yep they went home for the ice cream! Bummer. Determined not to be beaten we found a supermarket and bought food for the evening meal (remember I said 'I' wouldn't cook, I didn't say anything about Israeli friends) and finally ice creams. I chose one of those grown up lollies (choc ice on a stick with a decadent sounding name) and promptly dropped the chocolate on my lap thereby soiling both my shorts and the car seat- great!
Back to the hostel where dinner was cooked. The kitchen was poorly equipped and filthy and we met Pat from just outside Cheltenham for the second time- she had nothing to do with the state of the kitchen- it just reads that way.

fri- Kanga Caves

I awoke as usual about 6.30 and dossed until 7 ish when the room began to come alive and got up. There was a buzz in the air amongst those of us who arrived the previous and I was repeatedly asked if I was going on the bike trip. BIKE.........TRIP...sounds like me. I went straight to reception and said'what about this bike trip then...?' The reply was something I was used to hearing- 'no problem, it leaves in 10 minutes'. I raced back to my room to gather what I thought I needed- which included a bowl of cereal and a coffee but not the free Ostrich egg they lay on for breakfast. I quicly saw Moses who allocated me a bike and, so as not to make my tardiness obvious I geelfully hoisted my mount on the trailer. We headed off for the 53km (yep, 53km) drive up the Swartberg Pass which we would cycle back down, stopping off at our choice of Kanga Caves, an Ostrich farm where one could (for a fee) ride an Ostrich and the local wildlife sanctuary. The track became worse and the wind stronger as we climbed up and up.

I decided to ignore the advise from Moses to decend together as the inexperienced (girls) were falling off through over use of their brakes more often than the few guys who had the confidence to roll a bit. As it was we were often peddling downhill, such was the strength of the wind. Eventually we dropped out of the wind and were hit by the sun which was seriously hot. On one of the few inclines I discovered that my sprockets were badly worn (the bike wasn't much better) so that the chain was slipping whenever I put any pressure on the pedals. One of the girls had decided to get back in the minibus so I took my chance and had the spare wheel off her bike which solved the back end of the problem but not the front and got me filthy at the same time.

The caves were magnificent and in the true spirit of SA we were led deep into the system and negotiated crawls and chimneys like real cavers (speleologists) with no helmets or health and safety rubbish which would have prohibited the whole thing in UK. We saw the most amazing creations of stalagtites and mites, columns and all that- a brilliant thing to do. It was then back on the bike and a couple of hours in the baking sun. I stuck with a couple of German girls from my dorm (more than good friends, if you know what I mean, which is very common on the Garden Route) who were struggling until they stopped at the farm to let an Ostrich take the strain while I carried on.

Some time later Dan and Dana cycled in and I don't recall how but there we struck up a partnership for the next phase. Dana and Dan (who I must remember will most likely read this) were excellent, laughing at my jokes- even the crap ones (which ISN'T all of them, thankyou) at the appropriate moment and easy going enough to get quickly through that early stage when everyone wants to stop and use a loo or look at the scenery but doesn't want to say so. Plus they gave me money and that alone made them welcome passengers in my little car which got me more friends than my stunning personality ever could. That night I cooked, it was a waste because just like in the US small portions of anything are not available in the shops and I threw most of it away. Having calculated what I spent on food and considered cost of eating out I decided to minmise cooking in future. Had free Ostrich egg breakfast with Melanie who, in return for me providing eggs (I know- they were free, but it's the thought that counts) gave me fresh ground coffee from an amazing little travel gadget she carried. Hit the road with D and D.

thur- on the road

'Call me Ishmael.........' is the opening line to Moby Dick in case you were wondering.


Thursday morning was the big drive up to Oudshoorn and my next overnight. The road was great, long periods of mile munching through the desert punctuated by the occasional mountain pass where the roads twisted and turned like a twisty turny thing.

Ever since renting the motorbike in Cape Town I had the feeling I was doing this whole thing on 2 too many wheels and it was eating away at me. Every now and then I would see a BMW GS or KTM with European plates and resolved to do it properly next time. This place with smooth roads and limited law enforcemant is made for biking.

Having said that, my trusty VW Golf was pretty good and where else can you rent a brand new car for twenty quid a day? Then again when was the last time you saw a car without a stereo and when was the last time you had to heave a steering wheel which wasn't power assisted or fettle a choke in the morning. Yep, as you can see this particular car was a brand new MkI Golf that we had 25 years ago but they make brand new over here- it was like a trip down memory lane.

I passed through some mildly interesting places and charmed some old ladies when I stopped for a scone and tea. I stopped for a coke and the World famous 'Ron's Sex Shop' which is actually a pub/shop in the middle of nowhere.It used to say Ron's Shop on the wall until somebody with some spare paint wrote 'sex' on the wall and made it famous- not much happens in these parts as you can tell.

After about six hours of fast driving- cruising at 95 I was still overtaken by a pick up with 10 people sitting in the back, which is normal here, I arrived at Backpackers paradise. I immediately subscribed to the Ostrich Braai for R50 having learned my lesson and grabbed a well earned beer and my Wilbur Smith. It was then I realised I had left it behind. Doh! A wander into town and another 2 quid and I had a second copy- which was OK.

It was a very sociable evening sitting around the braai fire and I had the pick of the company. I was also the only guy in the dorm and (quite rightly) threatened with thrown shoes should I snore. When I woke up my bed space was free of footwear which has given me the confidence to say 'it's ok, I don't snore' when finding myself in similar circumstances.

wed- call me Ishmael

The morning after the night before I went to reception at the hostel to ask about the kayak tour of the bay. It seemed a bit steep at 25 quid but everything else was far more expensive. Apparently hile this is a very cheap place to stay and eat it is very expensive if you want to actually do anything. There is virtually no public transport and many country areas charge access fees. Anyway, they called the company and there was a cancellation which agian saw me squeezing things it at the last minute- no overplanning there then. As we were kitted out and began paddling it became apparent why it was so costly. Amiable hard man Ivan explained all about the southern right whales which go to the bay this time every year to mate- jokes about the water being thicker than usual etc were luckily avoided (till now). No boats are allowed into the bay during the 'season' except his kayaks and they are not allowed within 300 metres although as he pointed out nobody has told the whales. As we paddled his bronzed buddy Vanessa stood on the cliff tops with 2 way radio and binos so we were guided to where we needed to be- slightly ahead of the whales
En route I passed by what I thought was another clump of seaweed, as the side of my kayak brushed passed there was a hussing noise like Dodge used to make when he was bored. I looked down to see a dozen seals laying on their backs bobbing in the sun. I sees he and he sees I, as the saying goes and they began to swim around me, twisting as they went under my kayak and reverting to belly up every now and then- very entertaining and possibly worth the money alone.
A short time later, as we rose with the swell we could clearly see the grey and white head of a whale with his beady eye on us. We were treated to some breaching, when they jump out of the water with a periodic pop up to check what we were up to. After 2 hours of this we headed back to the harbour and tea and biscuits. The mischievous Dassies which are a bit like rabbits ony bigger- much bigger and live in the rocks had broken into the store room and stolen them, as well as chewing the paperwork. They are so cute I didn't mind. I did some shopping and bought food for a braai and a second hand Wilbur Smith which is good reading for here, I joined a Danish couple and their young sons who are bravely doing the career break at the bbq alter built in the hostel courtyard. When we had finished to owners put on a bbq spread for a fiver which was a million times nicer than mine and probably cost 4.50- oh well. There I also met Andy and Jo for the first time.