Mozambique

The trip to Mozambique was not what we expected it to be at all. Probably due to the fact that we decided to wing it and didn't plan anything. A can of puncture repair goo for the slow leaking smoothish back tyre, 2 kiddies goggles and 1 plastic snorkel and having read Justin Fox's trip to Mozambique which he did 10 yeas ago combined with our preconceived expectations about the place without doing any investigating did not prepare us. Accomodation was much more expensive than we thought and we didn't see any crystal clear water to use our brand new pink goggles. We forgot to pack the 2 blow up pool lilo's to use as sleeping mattresses and Theo's glue job to the back tyre tube bombed out. We didn't bother with a map since we knew we were going to Maputu which was a straight road from Komati Poort and then from there to an island which Justin Fox mentioned in his book (amongst many other islands) except we kept forgetting the name.

Did we enjoy the trip? Yes thoroughly!

The XT's are pretty reliable bikes and Theo's is held together with a lot of grease and dirt . My arse was killing me after 50 km's of riding, not having done a bike trip for so long and not on a scrambler with a greasy footpeg. I clutched my pants around the calf area to support my bum knee over the bumps. Our trip was somewhere in the region of about 400km one way but we weren't in a hurry..

The area around Hazyview is lush tropical and we stopped for roadside lunch in the beautiful mountain pass and camped overnight in the town. Next day at a pub beer stop in Malalane we chatted to a guy who told us we could overnight at Komati Poort and that we'd get the best price exchanging Rands for Meticas behind the Sasol garage. We took his advice and camped that night at the border town. Exchange rate 1 - 3.7. We were tired and hot but I sat grinning as I sucked on the deliciously sweet sugar cane stalks which had fallen off tranport trucks along the road and which we'd picked up and wedged alongside the tent strapped across the handlebars. I didn't care about the juice running down my chin onto my Tshirt or that the 6pack of beers were warm within a half an hour or that the ground was hard.

Next morning stiff, aching and puffy eyed from lack of sleep, I wedged my bruised body between Theo and the topbox, rubbed sand on the oily footpeg for traction and off we went. We arrived at the busy, chaotic border not knowing where to go but within seconds a runner had spotted our white faces, introduced himself to us and R100 and only 1/2 hour later we were through both sides. Money worth spending if you don't know the ropes.

We'd arrived. Yeehaa! We passed buggerall for 100km's except bushes and the odd reed hut here and there all the way to Maputu but I kept my eye's peeled for the bandit cops who apparantly jump out from behind the bushes demanding money for fines which they invent. We were also warned numerously to obey the speed limit but we had to wing that as well since the tent covered the clocks making it a guess as to what our speed was.

We arrived in Maputu and slowed down to what felt like 60 and stopped at the first restaurant/bar to get 2 cold Dos M's, the local beer. Tasted good and R10 each. The capital city is big and not very interesting to look at i.e. I didn't see many beautiful old buildings except one or two. For some reason I expected rows of old Portuguese colonial buildings (some bombed out shells as evidence of old wars), cobbled paved roads and pretty Mozambiquean women walking around with hand crafted pots on their heads selling spices under coconut trees. I was expecting to overnight at a backpackers on an aqua beachfront sipping rum cocktails chatting to long haired hippi travellers while bronzed Swedes lay topless on powder soft sand talking their yurdy gurdy sing song language about spectaclar corals.. When Justin Fox was there 10 years ago he said there were turds floating in the ocean and Muslin men would lift there robes to take a dump right there on the beaches but I couldn't remember where he saw that but hoped it was more north.

IInstead Maputu was just another big dirty (I've seen worse) city with no historical magesty but lots of new construction underway. Rows of ugly delapidated flats overshadow the odd Mosque and the sea looked like Blaauwbeg, cold, choppy and dark. Everyone drives a 4x4 and seem impatiant on the roads but as a nation, we found everyone smiley faced and happy. Even the poor, simple people ecking out a living selling a handful of vegies on street corners were in good spirits.

We found 2 so called backpackers both charging a hectic R500/room so we ended up booking into a hotel parkhome on the beachfront at R500/flatlet, cutting into the budget but what the heck it had a proper bathroom and a big, inviting, clean, soft bed so we moved my birthday a day earlier. We bounced on the bed in glee, draped washing over the curtain rail and filled up the ice trays in the little fridge. We strolled across the road to the vendors on the windy beachfront to look for supper and locally brewed rum but couldn't remember the name of the brew.. Loads of locals line the road selling beers from coolerboxes and braaied chicken and pap. Locals seemed to hang out for a beer and a bite after work and the place had a vibey sort of Khayalitsha feel to it and we enjoyed ourselves amonst the friendly people but couldn't find fresh prawns to cook for supper. We jumped on the bike, headed into town and found the fishmarket by luck. Communicating is really difficult since everyone speaks Portuguese but English is hardly spoken. Theo jumped with excitment when he saw prawns (tiger prawns R80/kg), crabs, all kinds of fish, clams, cuttlefish, calamari, you name it they had it. 1 kg of prawns and 2 crabs clawing around in my backpack and wavey sign language sent us in the direction of the vegie maket in search of lemons, peri-peri and the elusive rum.. Some dude looking to make a quick buck decided we needed help so we let him, easier to pay a coupla rand than ignore his persistance. Back in our flatlet we realised there was no stove so we hauled out the gas cooker and with one small pot, Theo cooked us a delicious seafood meal with the air con running full blast.

The room price included breakfast - peanut butter and jam toast and coffee and juice so we filled up and left our stuff behind to tour the city. Thats when Theo's back tyre patchwork came unstuck. The repair can oozed out so the only thing to do was push the bike in first gear, Theo working his wrists on the clutch, up and down roads in the heat. Luckily a friendly Mozambiquean woman, Flavia, who spoke English, saw our dilema and left her market hair dresser stand to help us by taking us to tyre places and did all the talking.

Lunchtime we zoomed back to the hotel grabbed our stuff and headed the 30km in the direction of the island whose name we kept forgetting. We first needed to get to the town Marakesh something or other and then to the Island Makanetta or something like that. We found ourselves on a soft sandy road but smiley people told us we needed to carry on for 10km's and we'd get there. We slogged on in 1st gear past waving people and spaza type shops, struggling to keep the bike upright. A local dude came flying past (ok no luggage and only 1 up) but we were amazed at the speed he did on his 125 road bike in the soft sand. An hour and 5k's later another barefooted local flew by with a pillion, her sarong blowing in the wind and back tyre skidding as they zoomed by. Eventually we arrived at our destination and saw the tar road we could have taken. We knocked back a cold Dos M while waiting for the ferry and could only laugh at our eventful day, a birthday I won't easily forget. Oh and for good measure I managed to lock myself in the toilet while scrutinizing the bucket and jug flushing system and nealry missed the ferry. I ran out tying up my pants and waving at them just in time. Theo was hanging onto the bike wedged in between a 4x4 and a boat on the oily deck.

The island we chose is a South African fishermen's playground. Our first night at Tan A Biki felt like we were at some Gautenaleng resort. Loads of South African tourists (the only we saw) were there for the fishing and to kuier in the bar with a big screen TV for the rugby. Not our scene so next morning we explored the soft sand island roads and found Pisane Resort, (www.pisane.zar.cc bookings 0825629393) where the very friendly South African owner, Billy, transported our luggage, let us use the fridge, gave us charcoal, took us to the Spaza shop, even told us to use some of his groceries and he was cheaper than the other resort. We were thrilled to eventually find the rum Tipo Tinto which even though it came in a plastic bottle tasted yummy. We were the only people there so had the pool and clean ablutions to ourselves. We strolled down the beach to the bar at the neighbouring resort, lazed around the pool and ate devine Baracuda fish for 2 days.

We never got to see bright corals or exotic fish with our goggles but we had great fun with them in the pool. I was grateful the Maputu puncture repair job got us back to our bus in Balule where a soft bed beckomed my weary limbs and even thouth the trip didn't happen as I'd imagined, I enjoyed the element of surprise, saw a small bit of Mozambique and had a blast.

And Thanks for all the Fish

Back on the road we passed through a quaint English town called Haenertsburg and couldn’t resist popping into the inviting pub for a beer or two and a chat with the friendly locals. Some guys were planning a 4 x 4 trip up to Mozambique which sounded really interesting. That night we somer parked the bus on the open grass common across from the pub and if the owners were looking for a cook or a bar lady we would have grabbed at the chance to stay for a while. The town is surrounded by forests, mountains and dirt roads, an offroad bikers paradise. We’d reached the tropical region and the lushness was a welcome break from thorn trees and more thorn trees. A shopkeeper suggested we could camp at the dam the next night since according to her, the fishermen often pitched tents on overnight fishing trips. We tried but unfortunately the road was too steep for the bus so we moved on to Tzaneen.

Camped at a back packers for a night where some stoned dude came over for a chat about tall fishing stories. The next day we found the municipal campsite, right on the dam and that’s where we’re staying for the next few days. Cool place, loads of trees and all to ourselves during the week except for the odd ball family behind us who’ve been here a month. It’s weekend and some locals have pulled in. Yesterday a dude brought his boep and glass of klippies and coke over for a chat while his kids, Wit Rot and Arsehole, his affectionate terms of endearment for them, caught bass in the dam. He told us he was toughening them up so that if anyone ever teased them, they’d be able to take the punch. Today is Sunday and everyone has left except the group on the waters edge with the jetski who seem to enjoy Carika Keusenkamp’s virgin like crystal clear voice singing about Die Wind in die Kaap and some other sokkie treffer band singing about Kaboe Mielies in die Nag.

Theo caught 3 pan size large mouthed bass, which he filleted and smoked. We had it for breakfast – deeevine. Kippers se moer.

He also brewed a batch of his booze in the laundry section of the ablutions on Friday, before the weekenders arrived. The sugar water yeast concoction has been fermenting since Sediba, the Indian guys place, and was ready to be fired up through the kettle. Right now I’m drinking cherry flavoured vodka with a 98 % kick for a sundowner. Eat your heart out.

My knee should be sorted by the time we get to Hoedspruit where loads of lodges are situated for job hunting but today we contemplated the options of possibly going to Mozambique for a week or so before we seriously settle down for a while at a lodge. It’s been Theo’s dream to go there to eat prawns since we left home. A bloody far way to go just for seafood if you ask me but a stop off at Jimmy’s Prawn’s won’t cut it he says. I think we’ve both been toying with the idea since our visit to the pub in Haeberstsburg the other day, after which I hauled out Justin Fox’s book - Waving With Both Hands, which clinched the deal. He is a Getaway journalist who popped over for a month to do an article about Mozambique in about 2000 when the country was just emerging from its war torn state and things were looking up for tourists although the country still has poor infrastructure. We’re thinking of leaving the bus and my bike at Gert and Louisa (friends of family) who have property in Balule, near Hoedspruit in the greater Kruger area. If we jump on Theo’s XT 550 we could take the tent, one sleeping bag, our toothbrushes, small gas cooker, a change of underwear and a Tshirt or 2 and do the trip rough and ready, biker style. Now that sounds like more of an adventure than anything to date. So long as we stay on the main roads, avoiding potholes big enough to disappear into, and the odd landmine off in the bushes, we should be ok. Apparently greasing the palm of the so called cops is to be expected and Theo’s bike certainly isn’t the latest BMW range so mobs of kids shouldn’t find anything interesting to unscrew when we’re not looking. I’m wondering about ablutions. I’m expecting a bucket. Hopefully not the same one to shower as well as to take a dump. And the highlight – lots and lots of fish.

I mentioned our plans to Theo’s mother on the phone and I could hear the panic in her voice, mind you my mother reacted the same when we left home and told her we planned to go to Mozambique as part of our travels. She feared we wouldn’t survive a trip through a barbaric cannibal nation of millions of black people who will shoot you and cut you up into small pieces and throw you into the potholes and keep your ears for muti. She suggested we rather go to Namibia where it’s safe for people to go on holiday looking for a bit of adventure and less chance of getting aids.

Theo’s prepping the bike, and we’ll replace the tyres. A slow leak caused by those blinking thorn trees is probably not the most advisable way to travel through Mozambique. I’m off my crutches as of today so luckily we won’t have to strap them on next to Theo’s fishing rod as well. I’m a bit disappointed I can’t take my bike but it will be fun traveling together, wedged inbetween him and the topbox but anyway there’s no way I can kickstart my bike now and I can’t find my ownership papers which is apparently something you need to cross the border.

Can’t wait to fill up with fish and fresh coconuts 3 times a day. Yum yum.

Flight of the Bumblebee

So before you think I’m missing in action, or turned into a topless bar lady wrapped around a slippery pole, raising my eyebrows seductively at customers, I better bring you up to speed. We made like a duck and disappeared from the Indian dude’s farm before things turned sour.

The plot thickened when we met the builder and Kalvin’s protégé barman. Turns out he never got the environmental study approved, he made his money from whorehouses which probably explains his obsession with women and I bet you anything the hotels he says he owns are of the same caliber and he either pimps or is a slum lord. The burglaries at the bushpub were apparently personal vendettas against him and he is known to beat up people, even his wife. I’ll never know all the shady facts about the previous girl who worked at the lodge except that her stuff is still there.

We didn’t stick around to confirm how much of the above was true, but followed our instincts and got the hell out of there very quickly. I saw a side of life which saddened me. Proud, smiling Jethro works for no pay, but has a place to stay and lives on a hope that Kalvin will back pay him his wages and things will improve. Goggo goes into town to beg and borrow from friends when things get bad and Jacky left to look for food and never returned. The day before we left, Kalvin brought his 5 Zimbabwean immigrant workers from the bushpub to offload his fridges etc. He never returned that day so we found mattresses for them but they went to bed hungry not knowing what to expect the next day. We left on a sad note aware that there’s different kinds of people out there leading different kinds, some sadder than others.

My knee is still not healed, so job hunting will have to wait but we’re heading in the general direction of Hoedspruit area where all the game lodges are situated.

We stopped at Potgietersrus where I got myself a pair of crutches at the government hospital for R30 (hard to believe) and visited the museum so Theo could check out his hairy Boer ancestors, while I read fascinating remedies such as putting a dead cats skin, fur facing downwards, on your chest to get rid of flu.

We’re staying in Pietersburg, formally known as Polokwane which is in the Capricorn region which is in the Limpopo Province. Yip, quite a mouthful of names to remember but I’m surprising myself. The caravan park where we’ve been staying for 4 days is very quiet and has 3200 hectres of fenced off game park. We’ve seen rhino’s, zebras, blue wilderbeest, jackal and loads of different antelope species. Scrutinizing dung is fun but we’re struggling to identify trees and clearly need to refer to our notes about whorls, stipules and nodes.

Since we’re in a big town we’re doing some maintenance on the bus. Theo’s getting stressed driving around looking for parking in Pietersburg which is as big as Cape Town centre. Today we took the bus in to get the wiring sorted out and now we can travel at night, the hooter works again and the wires which dangle in his lap shouldn’t get so hot anymore. Tomorrow the bus gets a service. Still haven’t painted it yet since the fire bubbled a section on the side but I don’t see the point since the thorn trees will just scratch any new paint job and anyway I’m still working on a theme. Any ideas?

Leaving here in a day or two to somewhere or other.

Mozzies from Mars

It seems as though we’ve got rid of the rat but now we’re concentrating on the dam mozzies. We’d almost used up a whole can of Tabbard spray when Theo remembered that we had a brand new anti mozzie net packed in the bus somewhere. Great stuff! He hauled it out, hung it up above the bed and wala, things looked very omantic as soft white netting draped around the bed and I was suddenly in the mood for love. Excitedly we crawled in under the thing but wham, I looked around and felt as if I was in a Sci Fi movie with gross sores developing all over my body and an alien about to explode out of my stomach. I tried hard to banish these thoughts but they kept coming back. If I looked up at the circular centre above my head, I felt like a giant bee catcher. Theo on the other hand lay there going ne nene ne ne and pulling faces at the mozzies buzzing around on the outside.

Oh dear. I needed to recapture the moment. If I downed my whiskey it might help but the problem was that the bedside table was outside our safety net, and with the light on we’d attracted enough flying insects to start an arachnid collection. Should I risk opening up the side to get my drink or should I just suck it through the dam net? I managed to get my drink safely inside, gulped it down and turned to the cheshire cat lying next to me. Let’s get it on baby. It’s difficult being romantic with a moth the size of a small bat flapping madly entangling itself into the folds of the net next to your ear but somehow we managed.

I have to share a bit of useful information here. Did you know that the reason why moths circle around a light continuously is because they use the moon to navigate? As they’re flying from lets say a Marula tree to lets say a Black Monkey Thorn tree they check out the position of the moon and use it to get their bearings in the sky and orientate where they want to go without getting lost. Ingenious! Unfortunately they get confused with other lights and will circle and circle it incessantly trying to get their bearings. Like ok, here’s the moon real close, this must be north, wait a minute, this must be north, hang on maybe this is north. Wait a minute; I’ve just seen another big moon under this net bouncing at a vigorous rate.

Anyway bottom line, the dark side of the moon is more diverse than a chicken drumstick.

Voortrekkers, Voorlaaiers en Voorname

Well I’m still enthralled by the whole concept of those Boers pioneering their way across the countryside. Life must have been so cool for the men but a bitch for the women.

The men sat around polishing their voorlaaiers, no one nagged them to take a bath, and if they wanted more than one wife, well who’s to stop them. All you needed was a decent beard, a horse, a kraal and you were made. They’d disappear for a few days on hunting trips, pockets bulging with biltong, and all the game to pick and choose from right under their noses.

Women on the other hand had it tougher. For starters, you needed to find a man to marry by the age of 14 otherwise you were considered an old maid with droopy tits. You spent your days rubbing cow shit on the floor, stuffing straw into mattresses, searching for termite mounds to break open to bake bread from the dough you’d been kneading since 4 in the morning, and then sew bits of leather together with a blunt needle to make trousers for your hairy husband.

Then the day would arrive, after your husband had consulted the Bible and found the message that it was time to trek north. You’d have to pack up your 13 children, Ouma, Oom Sarel, who slept in the wagon outside, your 2 cooking pots, a bucket of candle wax, sacks of biltong, rusks, konfyt, buchu and a clean bonnet.

The oxen would get ingespan and the slow trek would begin. Dangerous mountains were tackled by dissembling the whole wagon and carrying it over piece by piece and Willamiena Petrulella Susara dared not utter a “you want me to carry what?” At night Cornelius Paulus Gerhardus Steffanus Jocobus Ignesius Martinus Christoffel Lodvikus Hermanus Albertus Johannus and the other 12 children would gather around to listen to awe inspiring stories read from the Bible.

It must have been cool coming over a koppie, seeing a river running through a valley filled with bokkies and blommetjies and being able to say “vrou, dis nou ons plek”.

Life was hard, but they were uncomplaining free spirits on the African plains which is more than we can say in today’s lifestyle of washing machines, tarred roads, supermarkets together with hydrogen bombs, a damaged ozone layer, insurance premiums and a government who owns you.

Show us a sign

Yesterday evening I sat on the stoep listening to far away thunder and watched Theo skin his kill; a guinea fowl. Yip, he’d actually managed to shoot one with a pellet gun. He stunned it with the first shot, a couple more pots and finally killed it with a coup de grace head shot. Now he was a real man. All he needed to do was to eat the things heart while it still pumped and bury something under a tree or something to that effect but we settled for a whiskey.

Later that night the thunderstorm rolled nearer, drowning out the bloody rats scuttling around in the thatch roof. We’d been feeding them ratex, but I must admit I would have preferred leaving them a note saying “please vacate outside, we’ve moved in here now”. Instead, they chose a slow death and ignored the rat trap the size of a shoe box. I would have felt bad if they were cute little field mice with cute little whiskers but their droppings were not cute, they were as big as a duikers, and I didn’t fancy them gnawing at my toes after snacking in the kitchen cupboards.

I thought about the Cumulonimbus clouds hovering above. Yawn. I thought about the iced particles grinding against each other with such force that static electricity was formed. Too technical. It was just plain awesome watching the whole bloody show from my bed. The room and everywhere outside lit up as lightening streaked across the whole sky, followed by the loudest, rolling, crashing thunder I’ve ever heard in my whole life. Spectacular!

My knee is improving. Today I hobbled for the first time. I’ve been scooting around on a typist chair but it’s very limiting and I can’t go outside. I’m trying to make friends with the 2 forlorn looking horses visiting me on the stoep but Jethro just walked by and said “those things they must not come here because they kak hierso”.

I’m about finished my book. Really makes you think about our land and its Folk. Charlie, if you’re reading my blog you simply have to get a copy of James Mitchener’s, The Covenant. It puts many things in perspective about our parents who learnt from their forefathers. It seems that the Old Testament was written just for them, well and those Jews who crossed the desert in earlier times. The Bible (not the New Testament which was not relevant to them) guided them in every decision from handling their slaves to claiming the land. Thought provoking book.

Talking about weird beliefs, how’s this for bullshit. Kavin, (who recons we wasted our money doing the course cos he could teach us everything we need to know) told us that leopards have 365 spots and on a leap year they get an extra one. Whahaha don’t fall off your chair. Imagine leopards waking up on the morning of 29 February, males stretch, lick their balls and go WTF?! when they see an extra spot which appeared overnight on their goonies. Or, after a night of passion, the female goes oh my god you’ve left a fat hicky in my neck WTF it looks like a new spot. Or perhaps a cub goes up to his mother and says “mom am I still me, what’s this funny new spot under my armpit?” mother replies “no dear, that’s just a birthmark” but when her teenage daughter saunters up, shaking her arse, mother freaks out “what’s going on with your arse? I told you no tattoo’s while you’re under my care. Now bugger off out of here you slut. And so a generation of confused youngsters took their place in Africa. All leopards know the law which has been passed down from their fathers. And from their fathers fathers. And from their fathers fathers fathers. And it was passed on that all leopards need fear nothing, except Lions having a bad day and those two legged white animals who carry a fire shooting stick and can be identified by their strange hat. Let it be known that only when faced by these animals may any leopard run and hide in a cave. And let no leopard be struck down by lighting unless he or she breaks the golden rule, known to all, a leopard cannot change its spots! And so it came to pass.

Oh well. I’m off to supper. That guinea fowl’s been cooking for 4 hours and Theo says it’s ready.

THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT

So yeah, here we are still. The place is just as awesome as when we arrived but maybe one plus one makes five.

Before accepting the job here, I asked the barlady at the bushpub if Kalvin, the owner, gave problems when it came to getting paid. She said never, and that he was very approachable if the staff ever had financial difficulties, which made me more comfortable about accepting the job. I still thought he was a fast talker with pervert tendencies but since he wouldn’t be on the farm at the beginning stages, I was prepared to see how things went.

On the way here he mentioned that he had effectively got rid of all the unwanted farm labourers by not paying them since the place was not operational over the last few months. I made another mental tick against his integrity.

Warning lights went off when we were told that the previous girl who worked here just disappeared. Most of her stuff was packed in boxes and Kalvin said he kicked her off the place when he found out that she was “entertaining” a lot of friends and other people had moved into the spare bedrooms. It sounded feasible but I felt uneasy. People don’t just leave all their belongings behind. Why hadn’t she come back to fetch them? I visualized her half eaten dead body lying at the bottom of a crocodile infested dam. I even stared at the small thatch window above the bar and wondered if she was kept a prisoner up there for his strange sexual pleasures. I was starting to feel like a Desperate Housewife from Wisteria Lane.

There are 3 remaining labourers, Jethro the old guy who has been here forever and keeps a hand on the grounds, is in charge of Jacky who helps him as well as Goggo who keeps the chalets dust free. They say they haven’t been paid for 4 months either but are sticking it out in the hopes that Kalvin will pitch up to pay them. In the meantime they lend money from friends to survive, carry on working but are hungry so we’ve given them a little food but I feel bad. Jethro, who is very pleasant, knows a lot about farm life here and Theo can learn from him. He has also mentioned that Kalvin has beaten up one of the labourers very badly in a violent temper. The picture being painted of this guy’s character was getting worse and worse.

We’ve decided to pack things we don’t use daily back into the bus, in case things go sour and we need to make a fast duck. In the meantime my friggin knee is still buggered so I’m using the time to recover. Well see what happens at the end of October, pay day and according to Kalvin the start of big development here. We’re putting our C.V.’s out there again just in case.

So in 2 weeks, I’ll either be in Joburg, responding to a overland company who wants to interview us, have a game lodge management couple job lined up somewhere else or floating belly up at the bottom of the water tank.

CRASH BOOM BANG (Crocodile Dundee se moer)

I spend a lot of time sitting on the stoep with binocs peacefully watching life around me. In fact the best times are early morning which means I get up at 6 or 7 hard to believe but true. The other day, just before sunset, I heard a loud, continuous strange barking coming from the bush so I crept across the lawn to investigate. I got the fright of my life when I came face to face with a rooikat (caracal) behind the rondaval. He’d been stalking Impala who were barking their warning at him.

Today I sat on the stoep with my binocs and got my entertainment for the day watching Theo leopard crawl over a sandbank behind the putting green in his PT shorts armed with a pellet gun trying to pot a guinea fowl. He was unsuccessful but I got a laugh.

Seems I’ll be spending a lot of time on a pool lounger on the stoep since I can’t friggin walk. I’m so mad. We took the bikes for a ride around the farm to explore the place. We haven’t ridden for a good few months so I was careful at first, but after an hour or so started relaxing and enjoying myself. Heavy concentration picking your way over rocks, crevices, dongas, sand and gravelly bits. And then of course naturally there are all the thorn trees so you have to dodge the branches which could rip your eye out while keeping your other eye on the road for broken thorn branches which could poke a hole right through your tyre and your boot. I was nervous going down to the dams cos on top of all the above, you have to keep a look out for crocodiles lying in the grass waiting to ambush you. Anyway I was going along fine, thinking about how I could get the insurance to pay for a new bike since mine was still not going so lekker. An idea was forming about how I could say that I fell in the dam and a crocodile snapped my bike in half when I remembered that the insurance was only on the bus and not the bikes and wack, that’s when I hit the deck. I twisted my knee (yes, the one which is already a mess) and pulled every possible ligament. I had to ride back while my knee swelled to the size of a very painful soccer ball. I’ve been keeping it elevated and iced for 2 days now and it’s slowly improving although I can’t walk and I’m mad as hell. Oh well, at least I’ve got more time to blog and read an old book I picked up which I’m enjoying - James Mitchener, The Covenant. It’s all about SA history and quite appropriate right now.

We’re starting to have our doubts about this place, some funny things have come to light and I might very well need both legs to make a fast dash in the middle of the night but I’ll blog about that next time. Right now I need to change the frozen chicken and milk sachet on my knee and try and get some sleep – which isn’t easy with my leg up in the air listening to the dam rat in the kitchen at 2 in the morning.

COWBOYS AND INDIANS

After the course we moved into the bus and camped at Combrtum Park for a few days letting our brains readjust from overdrive to chill mode. We wondered what we’d do next, where we would find a job, got our CV’s typed up, made some enquiries and sat around the fire bursting with new knowledge and a beer or two to wash it down with. We weren’t allowed booze during the course so 2 beers and a whiskey had me thinking the world was my oyster and that I’d found God and my clitoris.

Man, life’s good but now what. It’s funny, I just can’t seem to shake the urge to want to plan ahead knowing from experience over and over since we left home that things inevitably don’t go the way you intended. One day when I’m big, I’ll learn to live for the moment and in fact I think when I can do that then I can honestly say I’ve reached the next level. At the moment my excuse is I’m a traveler who needs employment.

So anyway, there we were, qualified, grinning from ear to ear and unemployed. Our plan (there’s that word again) was to cruise down to Tzaneen, cos they’ve got lekker avos and pawpaws and nuts and greenery around there, park off for a bit while applying directly to all the game lodges in the Hoedspruit area for lodge management couple positions.

We’d spent a coupla days going in to Modimole, the local one horse town nearest Combretum Park and I just loved the vibe. It’s in the middle of a hunting farm area so you can either buy rifle bullets from Oom Piet in his PT shorts, or next door they’ll stuff your trophy zebra head to be mounted above the fireplace to peer at your visitors, or you can buy tyres for your landie. There are also a few Chinese and general dealer shops selling to the mostly black people in town and I loved the African feel to the place as everyone seemed in no hurry and many of the black women stroll along happily with an umbrella as part of their dress code. This whole umbrella thing is new to me since in Cape Town you’d lift off in the wind so mostly doekie and moisturizer is your protection against the Cape elements.

Our laptop is giving problems, all three ports are down so sorry can’t post pix which by the way are awesome but you’re just gonna have to imagine what the bushveld looks like. Impala carcasses hanging from trees for midnight munchies, leopards who prowl the empty camps at night, on foot, and in fast pursuit, these are the creatures of …..the night. Which by the way reminds me, so far the only thing to fear out here are scorpions hiding under every rock and thorns the length of your hand in every 2nd tree ready to poke your eye out if you’re not careful.

We popped in at the local bushpub, like any red blooded South African would, while waiting for the computer guy to call saying our laptop was fixed. That never happened but what did happen is we got offered a job. Turns out the owner of the bar has a game farm 50km away and was looking for a couple to manage it.

So we put our plans of going to Tzaneen on hold (should have known) and after a trip to the farm, we accepted the job, although I had my doubts about this guy. He is half American Indian, half Asian Indian is extremely arrogant, likes the sound of his own voice and I wondered how truthful all the money talk was. He spent too much time talking about sex and prostitution, not the normal get to know people chit chat. Either he’s preoccupied by sex or he was just checking our reaction. Next time I see him I’m gonna talk about my bowel movements and watch for his response. He drives the latest Merc or BMW or something and the heavy gold chain swinging in his chest hairs and matching watch and rings with you guessed it, rubies the size of puffed popcorn didn’t come out of a lucky dip but neither did they impress me much. We weighed up the odds, decided we had nothing to loose since we were prepared to do shadow guiding (work for food and lodging) for a few weeks if necessary up at Hoedspruit to gain experience and get into the job market.

The farm is awesome. We’ve moved into our own 3 bedroomed thatch house which has a stunning view. There’s a rat in the kitchen what am I gonna do but so long as there’s no Indian in my cupboard, with a video camera, who cares.

A family of warthogs and 20 Impala visit the bottom end of the front garden daily, Nyala come down to browse in the backyard at night and the obligatory troop of monkeys in the back, always on the look out to steal food. There’s loads of birdlife and 2 horses who spend most of their time grazing on the driving range which is next to the pool and the jacuzzi and the big braai lapa. All this is spread out in front of our house, except the 15 chalets running down the side and we are the only people here, expect for 3 workers who come in daily to clean the place.

Kelvin plans to move here with his family at the end of October, build a massive, fancy 5 star development on the other side of the farm now that after 3 years the environmental impact study is finally approved. In the meantime he’s happy that we orientate ourselves and once he’s moved here he said he will advertise the place and make a buck or two from the 15 chalets and bar and restaurant while the big moola development takes place. Whether we’re still around if and when his dream gets off the ground is unimportant, right now were having a jol here

Wipe that look off your face, you're in the bush

Where to start. So much has happened and I’m just dying to tell it all.

We arrived at Combretum Park excited to start the Field Guide Course. I had a permanent startled look on my face cos Berdien who has a nail / beauty salon tattooed decent eyebrows on my forehead the day before we left their place. My 6 little blonde hairs and puffy eyes are now framed by the most delightful arch almost reaching up to my hairline, hence the started look. Berdien said I’d get used to them.

We were 10 students altogether. Another couple who are photographers wanting to learn more about the bush for their future plans, a guy who had been working in the field but wanted the qualifications, a young, alternate thinking German guy, and 4 other young South African guys. We all got on well luckily cos you spend a month in each others company eating, sleeping and dreaming about trees, rocks, grasses, birds and mammals. Life on the outside became a distant memory while we learnt about nature and how things work together. Awesome stuff! It was hard work remembering everything which just keeps piling up but Rainer, the lecturer at www.bushveldtrainingadventures.co.za, is a fantastic teacher. He paints a captivating picture of nature and his passion and vast knowledge of all subjects makes it easier to digest all the information. Sakkie, his partner, is a more hands on guy and has been reading the bush longer than I’ve read my ABC’s. He’s quite a character, packed with wonderful bush experiences, calls his students drolpere and is said to be the best assessor around here.

Did you know that grass has shaped the evolution of mammals? Its not just something you have to mow over the weekend, it’s actually the primary producer in a food chain.

Have you thought about the fact that rocks determine what life grows where since they make up the soil determining which plants grow there which determines what animals can survive there?

Did you know that termites farm with fungi mushrooms in their long underground tunnels which they keep at a certain temperature, not fluctuating more than 2 degrees by using air vents and that they actually place fungi spores on the backs of termites when they leave to start new colonies?

Did you know that mistletoe seeds are eaten by a bird who likes the outside layer of the seed but can’t digest the next layer so it fly’s off to another tree, regurgitates the seed which now excretes a gooey substance so when the bird wipes his beak and the seed onto a branch, the mistletoe seed grows there and that’s how it propagates.

Did you know some mammals can induce the female species to go into estrus, that a horny elephant in musth will travel up to a 100 km’s to mate with a female in a different herd as apposed to his own herd, that in fact all animals are aware of how they spread their genes by not using the same gene pool and some species will sacrifice their own sexual drive in order to ensure the packs survival.

I can go on and on with stuff like this but just cos I’m into this kinda stuff now, doesn’t mean everyone else is. I’d love to elaborate a little more on the above stuff to give you the whole picture but Theo says I’m probably boring my readers. (that is if I have any followers since its been 2 months since I’ve blogged – laptop and time problems).

During the course, we left Combretum Park for 5 days and went to the Kruger National Park to see and study the big 5 since they don’t have any at the course venue. We stayed at different camps, 2 of which were actually outside the Kruger but with open fences.

Manyaleti was the best cos we had animals right at our doorstep. Literally – in fact Rainer warned us not to walk around alone but I had no plans to become supper for the local leopard anyway. Accommodation was big comfortable tents on wooden decks with proper beds and your own inside rustic bathroom consisting of a flush toilet and to shower you boil water on the gas cooker then fill a bucket, hoist it up and there you go. Really cool. We couldn’t believe our luck when just after arriving, we were busy with a class on the braai deck when a herd of elephants sauntered past us in the dry river bed about 20 meters away. They communicate in sub sonic low rumbles by the way. If the Matriarch in the front stops then the rest don’t carry on walking, they all stop dead and all move on together. At dusk a hyena slunk past the kitchen area (I could carry on forever about them) and on the first night the German guy kakked in his pants cos while he was showering, a leopard watched him through the floor slats from under his tent.

On a guided game drive we were really lucky to see a coalition of 4 male cheetahs on the prowl looking to get laid probably. Over the next few days we saw more elephant, a big fat python slowly slither across the road, we saw birds, zebra, hippo, buffalo, crocodiles, giraffe, antelope, warthogs, rhino, a lazing lion, a hyena and feeding vultures.

My startled look was wearing off as my new eyebrows settled on my face only to reappear as we pulled in at Combretum Park to find that the farm had burnt down while we were away. Luckily none of the rooms were damaged (no thatch roof or grass nearby) but the bus got a little heat damage (got insurance luckily) and one bike tyre melted (no insurance – but such is life). Unfortunately the classroom (thatch roof) burnt down with all Rainers books and collection of animal skulls etc. We wondered about safety of the roaming antelope and smaller animals but apparently most survived, although starving.

We both passed the national exam and are now qualified to become Field Guides or manage a lodge or become overland tour guides. Theo, and most other students, also did a 10 day rifle handling course afterwards with Sakkie, enabling him to carry a rifle in a landie if doing a tour. I helped Sakkie with bullets etc and even got to shoot a .22 and a 375 rifle which exploded with such power next to my ear that my new eyebrows would have blown off had the headband of my earmuffs not kept them in place. Like I said, they’re rather high up.

So now that we’re qualified, the next step is finding employment. But that’s another story.

CAPIES VERSUS VALIES

Ok lets just get one thing clear. Here in Gauteng the people don’t know how to braai. They either use charcoal or fancy gas griller jobbies. When the Capies practice their favorite pastime, we build a fire big enough to grill the whole neighbourhood’s wors and half a sheep. We are all potential pyromaniacs.

Being able to step outside without being blown across the yard as often happens in the Cape or riding your bike upright as apposed to a 45 degree angle through the Cape winelands in gusting wind is pretty cool. The wind never blows here. Never ever. A slight breeze has everyone up in arms.

I miss the way the Capies talk about eiwe virrie lywe en tamaties virrie parties. Here it’s all “neea ak gaan narens” or “ak gaan nou wark”, or “ak bly by my maw en my paw”.

In Cape Town you’ve basically got the N1, the N2 and that other watchemecalit road to the southern peninsula, not too hard to get lost, well for most people anyway. Here it’s a network of roads all leading in different directions to different places. Very confusing. There’s hardly any crock cars to be seen. Even the lighties drive fancy bling bling cars whereas in Cape Town you see loads of vrot rust heaps since they drive their cars till they stop and then they’ve still got resale value. Some cars have a bucket so your feet aren’t in a puddle and rust cavities are great for mounting speakers. The Capies complain about peak hour traffic. Ha, wait until they check out these traffic jams, all the friggin toll gates and crappy road surfaces. Valies all work a full day, clearly they don’t get the concept of working half day on a Friday like we do in Cape Town, so thousands more Valies all jostle for first place, flashing their bling bling, whereas the Capies are more like, what a cool day dude (that’s when the wind isn’t blowing), lets ditch work today and head off to the beach dude. Hey dude, where’s my car dude.

The beach. Yes, the one place the Capies rush to whenever they feel like it. Whether its to eat Kentucky in your rusty car while watching the sunset, to walk the dogs after work, to jog down the pavilion in you tight spandex, to catch a wave, or to spend the day grilling in the sun watching hot bods in G-strings strutting their stuff while the kids build sandcastles, whatever floats your boat there’s something for you. Holiday trips to the west coast usually include eating bokkoms with the friendly locals while you watch your tent blow away, or east coast where you pay a fortune for everything cos that’s where the valies go for Xmas to spend their hard earned moola to boost the tourist trade.

Here in valieland they all go to “die dam”. Sunday morning and we were off to Hartebeespoort Dam. Excitedly I stripped off my bullet proof vest, grabbed a towel and cossie, expecting to spend the day at the waterside. We stopped at the bottlestore, a big plus point for valieland since in Cape Town the only booze you will find on a Sunday is from a shabeen. Turns out Hartebeespoort Dam is a town of restaurants and flee markets, nowhere near the waterside, which hundreds of bikers go to for their breakfast run and there’s no swimming to speak of. In Cape Town the only time you see that many bikers together is for a day jol or rally.

Some Capies wake up to feed the pigeons but here the valies wake up to the call of the Grey Lourie (Kwe-voël) who squeezes out a nasal, drawn out “kwe” to persistently coach the people how to pronounce “e” as in “ek” and not “aak”. In Cape Town the only wild animals you’ll come across is the men standing around the braai, drinking klippies and coke and having a heated discussion about the rugby match. In Valieland the chances of seeing a lion or elephant on your way to work are high since most towns are surrounded with game parks, bush lodges or wedding/conference centres all packed with animals.

In Cape Town if you leave crisps out overnight, guaranteed they will be pap by next morning. Here the air is thin and dry and you can leave crisps out the whole week but the problem is the air is also so electrically charged that I’m too frightened to touch anything, never mind have sex since a combination of friction and moisture could result in self combustion.

Besides all the above, its basically same shit, different place.

GAUTENGELENG

We drove from Bloemfontein up to Krugersdorp without stopping at laybyes since there just weren’t any but we stopped at a awesome dam outside Welkom, which hundreds of flamingoes and other birds called home. We spent 2 days with binocs glued to our faces and the bird book got well utilized. We were the only people there to enjoy the stunning red sunset skies dotted with red flamingo wings.

We arrived at Krugersdorp in the North West where the pace picked up. We’re staying with Theo’s cousin, Berdien & Jan, who have gone all out to entertain us and make us feel at home. We spent a long weekend with their friends who own property in the Kruger National Park, my first exposure to big game and nogal in their back yard. There are a 100 or so privately owned plots within the park, most without border fences so effectively it means watch your arse when you’re braaing cos you could become supper for a hungry lion. You don’t stray far from the firelight at night and you definitely don’t want to share the river with the crocs in the river running past the front garden. A family of warthogs grazed on the lawn a few meters from us while a family of baboons watched us from a discreet distance. We watched a variety of buck come down for a drink at the river and giraffe moved silently through the tree tops. I’ve seen antelope before but never as part of the food chain. What a great experience. Later that day I plucked up the courage to swing from a moerse high tree in the front garden. All it took was a few beers to pretend the crocs sunning themselves on the riverbank a few meters ahead were plastic ornaments. I yelled for dear life as I did my tarzan thing. I think I’m turning into a pucker game ranger.

We stopped at a few stunning view sites on the 6 hour return trip from Mpumalanga. I’m especially name dropping the provinces cos I’m getting the hang of knowing what lies where, much to my mothers surprise I’m sure. Drie Rondawels and Gods Window offer breathtaking views from the end of the highveld plateau , overlooking the lowveld. I didn’t realize we were talking altitude differences here, I thought highveld and lowveld referred to the length of the actual grass.

Back at Berdien’s house it’s like a miniature friggin petting zoo. They share their house with 11 cats, 2 dogs, 2 birds, 2 tortoises, 2 chickens and a pot belly pig who calls like a baby when he wants to come indoors. She’s nuts about animals – go figure.

I spent yesterday scrubbing the bus; the back inside corner was black from the exhaust fumes and in hindsight I think all those times we stopped to rave about the view we were probably high as a kite for most of the trip. Oh well, Theo has stuck some gum gum on the hole in the exhaust and some silicon to cover the hole where it’s coming inside. We’ll see what happens when we leave here.

I’m seriously worried about our sex life. I can’t even stroke the cats without building up static friction from the electricity in the air but sooner or later we’ll have to give it a go, possibly with a rubber condom and rubber shoes to earth myself. I have anxious memories of collecting Theo a few times after work back in Cape Town, when a greeting kiss would turn into a hair raising spark as we changed seats. And I’m not even talking tongue, imagine what will happen if you put body fluids into the picture. I asked a few people for advice and they told me to always dangle one leg over the side of the bed to earth myself on the floor. They said a little shock now and then kept things spicy anyway and sex in the passage saved many a marriage. In the interim I’ve been a bit tense but it could be due to over exposure of people’s paranoia in the city life again.

I’ve also just discovered that for some reason I thought we were going to do the course at Pilansberg Nature Reserve. Well I got my facts wrong, we’re doing it at Combretum Nature reserve which is 2 or 3 hours drive from here. Don’t know how I got that mixed up, I thought I was getting good at directions. Oh well we got here, tomorrows worries are for tomorrow.

HOWDY DOODY

I’ve been blogging about places we’ve seen, but you might be wondering about the nitty gritty’s of the trip. I’ve come to the realization that when you’re on the move you just can’t plan ahead cos things never work out accordingly and you only end up screwing yourself if you put expectations on where you’ll be next. I’m also holding thumbs that the bus doesn’t give any more problems cos Theo is learning about maintenance but I suspect he’s learning the hard way but so far we are still on the move and getting there.

I definitely prefer small one horse towns to the bigger cities since they have so much more character and you feel as though you’ve stepped back in time, also less chance of getting lost. We stopped at Bloemfontein, capital of the Frystaat, to visit Theo’s brother and wife, and the city is big and ugly and uninviting. It’s also raining which probably adds to the dreariness of this large brown city.

We spend most days driving (top speed is 80 km/hr), stopping to make food or tea and sometimes we do museums, some are interesting some are old and dusty, or a quick bit of shopping, but mostly its just us, loads of laybyes, and a changing view from the bus window. When we stop in the middle of nowhere you can feel the quietness all around – it’s cool.

My hands have cuts and the dusty cracks tell me my skin is dry but I make a bee line for soaking in the bath and a good pampering when we stay over with people. Whether or not you wear underwear is also determined by your dwindling cupboard and how far before the next washing machine stop.

We’re eating really well; braaing most nights, Theo’s lekker bread, divine buttermilk flapjacks for brekkies, vetkoek and carrot salad are but a few. And then of course the huge parmeham and pancetta which he made 4 months ago is getting smaller and smaller and works as a good standby.

We’re unfit and fatter and the birds and vegetation have changed so I can’t identify anything. I hope I do ok on the Field Guide course starting 21^st August but I’d better start learning to identify stuff around here. Yesterday we drove past either a jackal or a fox. It was roadkill which made it difficult to match up to the picture in my mammal book. I’ve noticed that the hundreds of termite hills around here have been broken open by animals but I haven’t seen them yet.

Other people collect teaspoons or porcelain frogs but we collect toilet paper from petrol garages for when you have to pee in the bushes (not that I’ve seen many bushes lately).

We mostly only have each others company although we don’t talk to each other too much when driving since the engine is noisy. The exhaust fumes generally billow around the back end of the bus, so when we wanna get goofed we pull over for matinee sex.

I sit with the map to see where we are and to get a sense of direction. Ha – my favorite pastime. Well I’m not lost yet although sometimes the Garmin doesn’t work so lekker. I’m learning where the provinces are, anything north of the karoo is unfamiliar to me. All those new names of towns and provinces are foreign but I see the Free State is still called the Free State according to my map.

It rains in winter in the Western Cape and then it gets cold. Makes sense. Now we’re traveling north, climbing altitude all the time, its still winter, it’s warm, we’ve passed snow on the mountains, the grass is dry yellowy browny and it rains in the summer. I’m confused as to when the people suntan.

Anyway so far I love every minute of the journey. Things will change I imagine when we run out of money but hopefully by then we’ll be qualified field guides and can look for work in that line.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring. I think I’m living life as it was meant to be, I'm enjoying it and I’m happy.

VULTURES AND HISTORY

We arrived in Willowmore with more bus problems ho hum. Same thing – sucking air. Dam. Luckily we didn’t have too hectic a deadline but this wasn’t part of the plan. Theo tried but couldn’t fix the problem so we headed for the garage where they suggested we get an electrical fuel pump which they fitted but after a test drive, the problem persisted. It was 1 o clock and the town closed so it looked like we were there for the weekend. Piet, the very friendly garage owner, insisted we could park in his workshop yard with electricity access and keys to toilets until Monday morning but we were happy to park at a laybye where we could braai and enjoy nature. Later Piet drove the 2km out of town to make sure we were ok and for a chat. He told us he enjoyed flying his microlight and later that afternoon we looked up to see him flying over and wave, satisfied that all’s well. Next morning Theo decided to have another look under the bus and seemed to sort out the problem. We drove around a little to make sure the problem didn’t come back, phoned Piet to tell him we were on our way again and later that day we stopped outside Aberdeen, 200 km past Willowmore, looked up and so wraggies waar we saw Piet flying overhead to wave us on our way. No that’s what you call country service. If it was Cape Town you could confuse Piet’s enthusiasm with the eager roadside tow truck vultures out scanning the tarmac for possible business.

We left the green Rhenosterbos behind us and headed for Graaf Reinette, where we strolled through the military museum and educated ourselves about the Anglo Boer War. The vegetation had turned a dull yellowy brown. I imagined a lion would blend in easily with the grass and I got a kind of a African feeling staring out the window. Well the first few hours anyway, by day 2 it was just more and more boring yellowy browny grass. I was used to green stuff in winter in the Western Cape not this dry open space unfolding for km after km ahead. The book said we’d left the arid region and were in savannah grassland. We overnighted just outside Colesburg and tried our shower out for the first time. It worked perfectly and I felt good. We’d been sleeping at pullovers all the time, (except of course the times we stayed with friends) and we’d always felt safe. I don’t know what all the fuss is about being safe out on the road in SA. The crime is way less out in the gamadoelas, probably cos there’s like a whole 6 people living in the whole Freestate but we are op en wakker and Theo keeps the tazer (stun shock thingie) handy. He wears it on his belt these days since the other day he shocked his leg from the inside of his pocket, not that I’m complaining since a day or 2 recuperating from sex was a relief.

We arrived in Bethulie, a town steeped in Anglo Boer War history, and stayed at Lupo, a biker friend who had sold up his stuff to travel SA and Namibia with Anette on their GS’s but they stopped in Bethulie, bought a house, converted it into a bike packer, and stayed. Lupo was our inspiration to get out of the ratrace so we were keen to see him. He showed us grave sites, the huge concentration camp site where just under 2 000 people died in tents. He took us to the museum, we read letters written by the Khakies to their families, read about first shots being fired at Novalspoort, and by the time we left Bethulie, the Anglo Boer war wasn’t just an event written about in history books, it became real, involving real people suffering horrific conditions.

Lupo showed us the massive, I mean maase massive Gariep dam. Not a person, not a boat, canoe, picnic table or tourist in site. What a pity the dusty, vertragte, town seemed to show little interest in putting itself on the map. If you do find yourself in the historical Bethulie, stop over at Lupo's Bike packers phone 083 251 3555 or check out his website www.BikerPackers.Bethulie.za.net. He will give you a guided tour of the place and is good company.

Back on the bus, a vehicle with a view, and on to Bloemfontein.

OSTRICH EGGS AND CLAMPED PIPES

We arrived in Cape Town without further incident and spent 2 weeks fixing things. We had the king pin in the steering column repaired, we shopped for pipes and engineering places for braising, filters, bike spares for servicing my bike, food, more pipes, books, clamps, etc. Theo fitted the inverter, the solar panel on the roof, the fridge is working on gas as well as electricity, our shower works and he’s fitted pipes to run the veggie oil. We managed to catch up with old friends but I felt like a foreigner balancing on a bar stool and all that concrete and noise and throwing banana skins in the dustbin seemed wasteful. Pavements, shops and electrical gadgets replaced mountains, peacefulness and fynbos. I missed simplicity but was disappointed in how easy it is to slip back in.

A friend decided to catch a lift with us as far as Oudtshorn to visit some friends. Luckily Arno, our passenger, is easy go lucky since our trip started with problems. Previous mishaps like broken gear levers seemed trivial compared to this. We got as far as the Worcester tunnel when the fuel pipe started sucking air so we plakked there for 2 nights while Theo tried to tighten the clamps and bleed the fuel pipe. We eventually got Keith (brother in law) and his diesel mechanic buddie to come through to help us out. They were startled at Theo’s assortment of connections, pipes and clamps but they managed to get us going again.

The Meiringspoort Pass between Prince Alfred Hamlet and Oudtshoorn is really pretty and I lost count of the times we crossed the river drifts. Unfortunately the Swartberg Pass was not possible in our long bus since the sign recommended 4 x 4 vehicles.

We arrived at Oudtshoorn, a town renowned for ostriches, the Cango Caves and crocodile farms and stayed with our biker friends, Martin and Peta. We enjoyed their hospitality for 2 nights, braaied yummy ostrich steaks and ostrich sausage, visited a dusty museum, and bought a ostrich egg. I’m looking forward to it for breakfast although 1 ostrich egg is the same size as 24 regular eggs. I’ll tell my mother, who is fascinated at the amount of eggs we go through, that we’ve progressed to ostrich eggs, that should give her a laugh.

Then we joined Arno at the farm in Oudtshoorn. His friend works and stays on a huge, busy, dairy farm called Bakenkloof. Life there is simple and I loved it. I was in my element walking around in wellies in the mud and brushing the horses, and drinking wine around a fire watching the sunset, and feeding the calves milk from a bottle and picking peacan nuts and sitting on a crate in the sun shelling them. Piet’s wife showed me how to make butter and she gave me delicious buttermilk, yoghurt and milk. Theo made a huge peacan pie for everyone and we were ready to leave to travel further north.

Going Into The Wild (good movie) has been a great adventure for us. Each day here is like man, life’s good.

We didn’t know what to expect at Simonskloof Organic Farm since the webpage had phrases like “lots of time to meditate” so we weren’t sure if we’d sit around eating tofu or run naked through the fields clutching a crystal in search of our inner self.

Turns out the place superseded all our expectations and Jurgen totally applies the concept of WWOOFING (Willing Workers On Organic Farms) and the 3 of us interacted full time, working and eating together. Simonskloof is a retreat off the grid (no Escom) situated 50km into the Koo valley. There’s just space, tranquility and harmony. We didn’t do any meditation or call on the spirits but we did drink loads of red wine, and had conversations about life, the universe, AC DC and the best way to cook potatoes. I thrived.

Living in a world without light switches, a microwave oven or cell phone reception takes getting used to but you learn to pee by candle light and to find the salt in the dark with just a lantern. I didn’t know much about the whole Permaculture thing so washing tiny tomato paste cans, squashing up egg trays, rinsing beer cans, drying out tea bags and putting biodegradable stuff back into the earth was all very new to me. On top of all that Jurgen is a pedantic Swiss German with many peculiar ways such as colour coding his washing on the line cos it’s aesthetically pleasing and not boring he reckons. I’m a slap dash no frills kinda gal and Theo also takes the shortest route, unless there’s food involved, but the 3 of us got on fantastically. He likes thing in an exact place cos its easier than searching in the dark – makes sense. Folding the spare blankets to resemble a French Chocolate Bun instead of a neat square, well lets just say that’s a bit odd, but it’s those kind of things which make him so unique, (and I thought thoroughly entertaining), and which makes his rustic yet spotless guest houses such a popular weekend getaway. By the time we left I enjoyed laying the table (a task done for all meals) symmetrically cos it looked nice.

Maraletta, Jurgen’s newly wedded bubbly wife, still has a business in Cape Town so at the moment is only able to come through for stretched out weekends to the farm but once the 3 door house is ready she will be adding her personal touch and making more of her delicious Apricot jam and fragrant salts.

Jurgen enjoys cooking as much as Theo does so while they cooked up a storm, I cleaned up, making sure the cheese grater went back on the right hook and wondered why my clothes were shrinking.

We stayed in our camper bus down at the campsite although it was really just for sleeping since we were busy all day long building a reed roof on the soon to be finished new house and we did general work including spotlessly cleaning the 2 guest houses. Coffee breaks on the farm stoep, watching hundreds of oak leaves drift in the wind with backdrop of spectacular valleys and mountains, can cut into a working day, ho hum, but the only stress out there was chasing the chickens off the stoep and squeezing the last coffee out of the plunger to dunk your chocolate biscuit into.

I re-discovered a book which I read 20 years ago called Illusions by Richard Bach. I was probably too young and spaced out to really understand it properly first time round but wow, did I hang on every word when I re-read it. Damm, it’s so profound – you just have to read it, if it’s the one thing you do that’s important.

Being Winter, we had a few days of icy wind blowing from the snow surrounding mountains and cracking my face, but mostly we worked in a T shirt and just bundled up at night to keep out the minus zero degrees. I even got used to using the cold outdoor shower at the campsite. The water can be heated but it takes too long and what the heck, a good nipple stand and an instant face lift is a damn good way to start the day although when I washed my hair, the brain freeze made me move in slow motion for about 10 minutes thereafter making it difficult to dress while balanced naked on a rock under a tree.

The campsite’s long drop is great for the daytime if you take your binocs with to watch the birds and it takes the concept of “Leaving no trace” nicely to new frontiers since you don’t even leave skidmarks.

On an off day we rode our bikes down the valley to Keerom dam where Theo had an unsuccessful attempt at trout fishing. I enjoyed the tricky ride even though I hit the deck making me realize the importance of wearing safety clothes – I wasn’t wearing my bike boots and could have prevented a bruise or two on my legs but I was wearing my helmet (even though we were on the farm still) and protected my head when it bumped against a rock.

Another off weekend it was the yearly Wacky Wine Weekend and of course we went. We hooked up with Kyro, our son, and a bunch of our biker friends from Cape Town and for R60 p/p we tasted red wine until eventually they all tasted the same to me. Well, they do anyway but I’m practicing. We slept over with our friends but I’m afraid I don’t remember much of the evening since I got horribly drunk.

Anyway our time at Simonskloof was fantastic but after a month we decided its time to head back to Cape Town to fix the steering, complete the veggie oil conversion and be off on our long trip up to Pilansburg to do the course which we’d finally booked. We could only leave 2 days later than planned cos the bus was stuck in the mud after some heavy rain and we had to wait for the road to dry out. After much digging and towing and revving and smoke and spinning wheels we were pulled out. It was a learning curve but I’ll put money on it that we’ll make the same mistake again. Anyway we eventually got on our way, happy to see the roof completed. We’d stripped and cleaned the reeds which were nailed in as a ceiling. Theo and Jurgen covered them in hessian, then a layer of insulator and finally they cut and nailed in corrugated iron sheeting on the top. I helped wherever I could, but in between all of the work I ended up getting tick bite fever which had me down for a few days with a migraine, body aches and a fever but I managed some interesting reading in the meantime.

I’m starting to have my doubts as to what kind of Field Guides Theo and I will make cos on our trip to Simonskloof, we stopped overnight at the Montagu tunnel. We were surrounded by awesome sheer rock mountain walls and across the road lower down, a river meandered through bushes and reeds.

We stopped in time to watch the sun go down, made a fire, tried to ignore the surprising heavy traffic rushing between Montagu and Ashton (country towns with peak hour traffic??) and polished off the last of Theo’s home made Cherry Liqueur. As it got darker we heard scuttling around in the bushes and wondered if it was a porcupine. The scuttling got noisier and noisier and we even heard grunts and pants. Too late for sleeping baboons, we nervously considered a leopard but the mammal book (after quick reference) stated that leopards are shy animals. Theo was inside the bus, probably pouring the last of the liqueur, but the point is he was inside and I was outside when the grunts and pants started getting nearer and louder and it only took me 3 seconds to cover the 100m from the braai fire back to the bus door, jump in and slam the door shut. We stayed there the rest of the evening except for once when Theo dashed out to fetch the meat off the fire. Field Guides in the making!

Our trip back was as to be expected; eventful. We stopped overnight at a pullover but next morning we realized the battery was flat (we left the lights on?!?). Luckily we had just bought a solar panel in Montagu after seeing how well it worked at Simonskloof. We propped the panel up against the wheel and 3 hours later the battery was charged and we where on our way to Cape Town where…. life…. seems….. strange…………….