NORMAL LIFE: South Africa, The Second Leg (Part Two)

Thursday, 27th December
We woke up to a cloudy and windy day with heavy showers threatening to block our view of the road ahead from time to time. We headed out at 6am, taking the S44/S93 loop north of Olifants. First off, and rather surprisingly, we saw a massive tortoise making its way across the road, followed by four hyenas who suddenly emerged from the bush and then proceeded to walk passed the drivers side – my side – of the car. We parked up at an observation point, noticing hippos bobbing up and down in the water in the distance.

I rested my binoculars, eating some Madeira Cake and downing some instant coffee as the windscreen wipers did their job of clearing the water-drenched windscreen. Bree looked at me, waiting for me to hand my coffee back to him so we could continue driving. He wanted to continue and it was at this point that I admired his interest. When I booked this trip for us eight months earlier, my biggest fear was that he would get bored with us just cruising around. I need not have bothered worrying because things had turned out to be exactly the opposite.

As we continued, we came into contact with herds of kudu, yet another variant of the common antelope. Back on the S93, we saw seven giraffes grazing which was wonderful. I think giraffes are amazing – they look somewhat prehistoric and their thick necks and thing legs somehow defy gravity. We drove back to camp, in need of a nap before continuing with our day. We were alarmed when we were woken up at 9.30am by the maid: apparently, check out in the Kruger Parks is 9am! In a rush, we loaded up the car, threw cold water on our faces and continued with our day. Before leaving the camp, we grabbed a coffee at Olifants’ café, filling up our newly-acquired Kruger mugs. As we scanned the Olifants river from the observation point at the café, I downed a sugary, red cake which resembled coconut ice, a blast from the past!

During our afternoon game drive, which took us along the Old Main Road towards the next rest camp, Lower Sabie, we came into contact with kudus, hippos, wildebeest and their young, giraffe, zebras, ostrich, elephants, impala, waterbuck, an indecisive white rhino (he didn’t know whether to ram us or ignore us), a lone chameleon on the road, and the rare ground hornbill (which looks very much like a turkey, but is black with dangly red bits beneath its beak).

At the Nkumbe Lookout, Bree was amazed at how much space there was for the animals and, yet, with binoculars trained on the flat plain below which stretched as far as the eye could see, wasn’t able to see anything.

As we approached the Lower Sabie rest camp in the late afternoon, we passed a score of baboons, together with lots of elephant shit in the roads. Just a kilometre or two from the rest camp, we saw two rhinos grazing alongside two elephants, which was a sight to see; it goes to show that there are actually very few predators out there.

We checked into our spacious chalet just before 6pm and, after a shower, went for dinner at the on-site restaurant. The buffet was a bargain, costs just R145pp (€14). Collecting our food from indoors, we dined outdoors, but could no longer see the Sabie River due to the darkness. We could, however, hear the cacophony of crickets as they undertook their nightly socialising. After the dinner, we headed back to our apartment, meandering along the overnight stayers’ path which took us past the camp site to the more sturdy accommodation beyond. In the apartment, we drank a Bacardi as we looked at some of the photos taken so far. Exhausted, we were in bed by 10pm!

Friday, 28th December

About an hour later, which has been uneventful since the elephants and the buffalo, we joined Route S82 and, within minutes, were treated to a view of three lionesses who were laying on the road ahead. This is what Bree had been waiting for, a view of Lions in the wild. We were about two hundred metres away when Bree asked “What’s that?” I replied: “Probably just some more elephant shit!” Then, suddenly, one of the lionesses had detected our approach and raised her head, looking in our direction.

We continued to drive very slowly and pulled up on the right of the road. Within a couple of minutes, some other cars arrived on the scene, yet the lionesses remained on the tarmac, defiant. After all, this was their territory.

We nearly shit out pants when a male lion slowly emerged from the bush. Almost at the same time, one of the three lionesses left the group and made her way towards our car. Ensuring the windows were rolled up and hoping that she would not think to jump onto the car and make its roof her home, she scuttled down into the grass to our right. At the nearest approach, she was less than two metres from the car. And she was beautiful. Unlike the Lions in the Lion Park which are fed by the rangers, these lions looked wild. Another male approached from the bush, followed by two more lionesses and a cub. Aww!It was when a selfish driver decided that he had had enough that he overtook us and drove towards the lions, causing them to scatter. The bastard! With nothing remaining to be seen, we continued driving, taking one of the loops which proved to be quite uneventful, except for the strange-looking helmeted guineafowl. Later on, having returned back to the main-road, and around 6.30am in the morning, we saw two wild-dogs, their smiles harbouring a deep deception, their big-round ears reminding us of Disney favourite, Mickey Mouse..

As we made our way back to the rest camp, we saw three hippos grazing on the grass on the bank of the River Sabie. When we returned to our accommodation, we grabbed a quick breakfast and were on the move once again. On the continuation of our morning drive, we saw hippos play-fighting in the Sabie River, followed by another lone buffalo which Bree had spotted really deep in the bush. We saw giraffe, followed by a pair of fighting kudu, which was interesting to see as they used their antlers to make a point.

We stumbled among a warthog, with her four young ambling about nearby. Just after 10am, we had arrived at Skukuza rest camp, where we would stay on this evening. After checking in, I took Bree down to the restaurant area, where we check out the Sabie River and the bats that lives in the roof which towered above the eating area; the bats hung there, unmoving, their wings hugging their chests as they dangled.

We checked into our compact rondawel, where we rested for a few hours before heading out on an afternoon drive. During the drive, we ascended to the Matekenyane observation point. We alighted from the vehicle and, with binoculars, scanned the bush below. Trees rustled here and there, but nothing could be seen so it must have been the wind. I remember standing on this peak a few years ago, really early in the morning, and I have a great photo of Kalie and Wia which was taken just after dawn had broken.

Mid-afternoons always tend to be less eventful than early morning game drives. We ambled along the dirt track, our car coping ever so well with the terrain. An hour or so later, we happened upon a herd of elephants and watched, rather amazedly, at how an elephant bull literally pushed down a tree with his left foot just so he could get to a handful of leaves! Greenpeace will be onto him for environmental damage before he knows it!We headed back to the rest camp, stopping at the on-site shop to buy some wood for a barbecue. Bree grilled some meat, while I boiled some canned vegetables. We shared a bottle of Rose wine and darkness quickly arrived one again. We ate on our porch, just like our neighbours did, and as the stars emerged once again in the night sky, I thought to myself: Kruger Park is one of the best places on earth. We got into bed early that night, setting an alarm on our mobile phones for another 4am rise!

Saturday, 29th December

With minutes of leaving Skukuza, we saw the last part of a hippo as it waddled across the road and into the bush. Later, we saw two young waterbucks; they stood in the road, not know what to do, but as we neared, they too sought refuge in the bush. A bit further along the route – we were travelling along Waterhole Road – an approaching car slowed down, lowering his window. I slowed down too and was thankful that I did when a car full of visitors boasted that they had just seen a black rhino just a bit further up the road.

We drove slowly, inching forward on the rough, gravel-life road until the Rhino gradually came into view. It was grazing the tall grass, a number of birds having come to rest on the Rhino’s neck. He was curious, forever maintaining a head-on gaze in our direction. I started to wonder if the huge herbivore was planning a stampede – would he suddenly run in our direction, his solid horns ramming into the side of our vehicle, causing extensive damage, leaving Bree and I screaming?! I snapped away, capturing the wonderful solitude of this animal whose only friends happened to be the birds on its neck.

After a while, we moved on and so we enter a zone full of impala. And I’m talking about hundreds of them. Let’s face it: there will never be a shortage of food for the predators in this park! For the first time, a bit further on, I noticed something not on the ground: we saw a number of white, ververt monkeys in the tress overhead. With black features covering most of their faces, a white ring covered their fringe, cheeks and neck. The rest of the body is grey and it is these colours that help you to find it in the bush.

We entered a rocky, semi-mountainous zone know to be home to a number of leopards, but instead of seeing leopards, we saw a rather bold, impressive kudu, its majestic presence very much like that of a stag in the English countryside. It was to be the last animal we would see in the Kruger Park as we neared Numbi gate, west of Pretoriuskop. We left the dry, rocky zone and once again into the savannah. From there, in the distance, stood a mountain and, not far beyond, civilisation, a place where animals don’t roam freely the way they should be able to.

We spent the rest of the day cruising along the Panorama Route, slowly progressing towards a placed called Pilgrims Rest, so named because it was to become the rest stop for pilgrims who came to the area in search of gold. Driving in a loop – on Routes 532 and 533 - we first visited God’s Window, an observation point overlooking the Lowveld and the Drakensberg enscarpment. At 1500 metres high, God’s Window is aptly named: if you dared to look over the edge of the cliffs, you could see hairlines resembling roads which ants (cars) slowly chugged along. It was at God’s Window that we bought some genuine, Africa art that would later grace our bedroom wall back in Helsinki.

Continuing along out drive, we reached the Berlin Falls, whose water trails some eighty metres or so. We paid the parking fee, alighted from the car, walked among the stalls and down the newly installed steps towards the falls. It was pretty impressive and we actually walked to the mouth of the fall’s opening and dipped our feet in the refreshingly cold water! From here, you had a great view of the canyon – the vegetation was very green, with evidence of forest fires in places and, down below, water rushed among the rocks towards some distant sea.

Back on the road, our next stop was Bourke’s Luck Potholes, a geological phenomenon of cylindrical rock sculptures that have formed, over thousands of years, at the meeting point of the Blyde and Treur Rivers. We strolled along the wooden path, an ever-present roar of rushing water audible from beneath us. Before reaching the potholes, coming to a succession of rapids in front of which friends, families and individuals posed for photos. The potholes, over which is now a newly-erected sturdy looking bridge, were impressive: just imagine how many thousands of years of rushing water have created these smooth marvels? And imagine how stupid tourists come to throw drinks cans and plastic bottles into the potholes, just to add a touch of ignorant humanity to the image. Honestly!

As we moved to leave Bourk’s Luck , we witnessed the end of an outdoor wedding, the uniting of two black families. As the procession slowly made their way from Bourke’s Luck to their awaiting vehicles on the main road, three guys in particular were joyful: wearing dark blue suits and shiny black shoes, they shimmied, giving it as much attitude as they could. They really thought they were all that, you know, it was amusing!

We moved onto our next port of call, just a few kilometres along the meandering Route 532. We pulled into the car park of the Three Rondawels, so named for the three rocks, which are comparable to the rondawels that people sleep in. Apparently, this is the second most photographed natural phenomenon in South Africa, after Table Mountain. From there, we made our way towards the town of Ohrigstad, stopping off at the Echo Caves.

The caves were discovered in the 1920’s by a farmer after cattle mysteriously disappeared and he went in search of answers. Since then, the caves have become a historical monument, recognised as being among the oldest caves in the world. Echo Caves is named after the way local people way back in time used the hollow stalactites as drums to warn of approaching Swazi people; the sound would travel for up to 40km in the caves, thus providing the local people with sufficient warning to take refuge.

We opted for a tour by a young, voluntary black guide who, I hate to say, didn’t speak very clear English. Somehow, Bree managed to decipher some of the words in the deep accent and gave me bits of information here and there. Regardless, her enthusiasm for the cave people who lived and her amusing yet oh-so-spooky sound affects made up for it! We made our way among caves of all shapes and sizes – impressive rock formations, including one of a wall, which looked like elephant skin, adorned the venue. One of the caves, housing an impressive stalactite, reached a height of 60 metres.

Towards the end of the tour, my knees twisted and jerked as the caves got narrower and narrower. We finally emerged into daylight, squinting against the bright blue sky. We gave the voluntary guide a tip – we might not have understood a word, but it was a new experience on this fantastic journey around South Africa.

We hit the road once again, navigating our way along the dusty dirt track through a valley, finally arriving back on the main road. Without stopping, we travelled at speed – and dodging the countless potholes – towards Pilgrim’s Rest. The late afternoon leg of our drive turned out to be very pleasant as we meandered into the depths of the Mpumalanga Valley.

We arrived in Pilgrim’s Rest just after 5pm, and I was surprised by how calm and serene it seemed, literally cradled in emerald green hills basking in whatever sunlight managed to get through the scattered clouds. When I had come to Pilgrim’s Rest in 2005, we had arrived at midday just for a brief stop: the sun was harsh, I was drenched in sweat. This time, I would be able to ‘absorb’ the place. We checked into the Royal Hotel and as I swung open the door to the room that would be our home for the night, I was stunned.

Impeccably restored, each of the hotel’s fifty hotel rooms reflect the late Victorian style. When Pilgrim’s Rest was declared a goldfield in 1873, the village – which has National Monument status – became home to 1500 ‘prospectors’ from near and far. It became a cosmopolitan centre of activity and, as I looked in on our room, I was amazed by the attention to Victorian detail: the brass bedsteads, the dated wallpaper, the wooden furniture, the wash-stands (complete with bowl and jug) and, my favourite, the bathtub.

Without hesitation, I proceeded to draw a bath: the water was hot and steaming, just like a bathtub bath should be. I let a soap melt at the bottom and slowly eased myself into it. Minutes later, Bree bought a Bacardi to me and I sipped from the ice-cold glass while I rested in the piping hot bath water. When it was Bree’s turn, I washed his back and noticed that we had both acquired quite nice tans. Dinner was next door, in the Royal Hotel’s informal restaurant. We ate from the buffet, filling out tummies with sumptuous, traditional foods. Nearby, the staff took a break from serving the customers and broke into a set of gospel songs. It was very good entertainment.

After the dinner, we took a walk up and down the short, main street. It was dark, the stars were out once again and I noticed Mars. Or I thought I had: on second glance, it turned out to be the red light on top of a mobile phone antenna! I’m such a bimbo sometimes! When we arrived back at the wooden hotel, we lounged in the deserted living room, also decorated in Victorian style, before heading to bed around 9pm! Good holidays are so exhausting, you know!

Sunday, 30th December

We woke up to another blue day, with not a single cloud in the sky. We made our way to the restaurant next door, where breakfast awaited us – I ate cereal, fruit, fried eggs and bacon and washed it down with lots of juice and coffee; the diahorrea that plagued me for the first week of my trip was now long gone!

After breakfast, we took a walk among the many colonial buildings that litter the Main Street: the tin-roofed Information building, the wooden Central Garage, home to a collection of classic cars, Mona cottage and the sweet shop, the Pilgrims & Sabie News building and the Victoria Restaurant and Pub. Approaching us was a woman balancing a box of nuts on her head – it wasn’t quite clear if she was trying to sell them or whether she was just transporting them, but it was an impressive feat of balance regardless.

We drove to the Diggings Site museum, where we had purchased tickets to visit a gold panning area to see how it was done back in the days of yesteryear; the activity that put this place on the map was expertly explain to use by our host, a mid-50’s white haired man who seemed to shake a little as he spoke, causing me to conclude that perhaps he liked the drink.

The tour, which last about an hour, told of the history of the ‘prospectors’ (those who rushed to the area to claim their gold-rich area), and how robbing somebody else’ gold got you killed. The sun was very intense and I raised the collar of my shirt to cover as much of my neck as possible – Bree had his moment of fame when, in front of twenty or so fellow-tourists, he told of how gold was now being extracted in Finland.

After the tour, we continued with our journey. The aim of today’s travels was to get back to Pretoria to spend our last night with Kalie and Wia. Soon after setting off, and still on what is known at the Panorama Route, we stopped at the Mac Mac Falls. The 64m high twin waterfall is so named after the numerous prospectors of Scottish origin who came through this are during the gold rush; instead of naming the waterfall after any individual Mac, they pluralised its naming by calling it the Mac Mac Falls.

Well on way to leave the Panorama Route, we passed the town of Lyndeberg, scaling upto the meandering Long Tom Pass (2,149m) with it’s treacherous step gradients, hairpin bends and hair raising drops. We passed the Devils Knuckles, a series of meandering bends some two kilometres above sea level; with the windows open, the temperature inside the car had suddenly dropped.

By late afternoon, we have passed a series of towns, namely Nelspruit, Waterval-Boven, Machadadorp, Belfast and Middleburg. Having made our way along the toll road, we joined the wider part of Route 4 at Witbank. We arrived back at the guesthouse by late afternoon with just enough time for a refreshing swim in the pool before packing our bags so that we could spend as much time as possible with Kalie and Wia on what would, sadly, be the last evening of our holiday.

After packing our bags, we took the short to drive to Kalie and Wia’s place and, as night came, we crammed every subject under the sun into our conversations that night. Wia told us of her travels throughout Europe, telling of her disappointing brief visits to Sweden and of an admirer in Turkey who seemed to follow her and her friends everywhere with flowers! It made me wander what travelling must have been like thirty years ago because, now, everything has become so standardised: hotel layouts, airport procedures, the availability of food, even currency.

When we parted later that night, Wia waved us off as we reversed off her driveway. Unlike her recent visit by a group of American friends, our visit has been a resounding success. It is so easy to be around Wia – she has a heart of gold and I thank my luck stars for ever having made contact with her at the turn of the last century. It was then that I realised that I had known Wia for nearly nine years. Blimey, I thought to myself, how time flies! I remember those essays we used to send eachother about cochlear implantation and, post implantation, the subject of our emails had seamlessly turned to our families and lives in respective countries. Since then, life has presented its trials and tribulations and, over a distance of some 6,000 miles, we have managed to remain in relatively close contact.

As we got into bed that night, Bree and I pondered upon the highlights of the trip: the wildlife, definitely. The weather: superb! The history, culture, people, beaches. The list was endless and as each minute passed, tiredness consumed us. After setting the alarm, we settled down for the last night in that terribly stiff bed!

We woke up the next morning and breakfasted for the last time, ahead of what was set to be a long day. Fortunately, Wia and Kalie had offered to guide us to the airport so, after returning our hire car in town, we transferred everything to Kalie’s hunk of a vehicle and were on our way to Johannesburg Airport. With just over an hour to spare, we quickly checked in for our Kulula flight to Cape Town, then grabbed a coffee, the four of us assembled around a table. I remember the look in Wia’s eyes, the knowing look that she would love it if we stayed a little bit longer, if not forever; she had a glint in her eye, a girlish playful gaze which innocently said: oh, so you’re leaving me?! But she knew we would be back. South Africa is just too good to stay away from, you see!

The time for us to collect our bags and after a group hug, Bree and I proceeded towards Security, waving until Wia disappeared from view. I remember the silence, the sense of anti-climax, the beginning of a long journey back home. Our first two hour flight went by relatively smoothly and, when we landed in Cape Town just after lunchtime, we rushed to the Lufthansa desks and check in for our early evening flight. That done, we had four hours to spare so, given that taxis were relatively cheap, we made our way to Cape Town one last time. Unable to control himself, Bree visited Resonance, the art store while I bought some last minute t-shirts.

When we hooked up again an hour later, he had admitted defeat – the owner wasn’t going to reduce the price of the painting he had fallen in love with just days earlier. In fact, when Bree had seen it in daylight for the first time, it turned out that he didn’t even like it! Hallelujah! After a quick snack and grabbing some last minute rays before returning to the cold and dark northern hemisphere, we awaited our chartered taxi and returned to the airport, arriving just an hour before our flight to Frankfurt.

We boarded the huge aircraft, whose seating stretched nine-abreast, admiring the view of the Cape Peninsula coastline as the aircraft soared higher and higher: Table Mountain, the flats, Langebaan – you could make out a lot of the key features of the Cape from several thousand feet up. I knew, in my heart, that I would be returning to South Africa at some point, but in the back of my mind there was some other, more pressing travel decisions to be made. The horoscopes I had read in various magazines recently just served to confirm what I already knew: that 2008 was going to be a year to remember.

In the cabin, the lights went out and I slept through New Years Eve. I woke up at 2am and Bree was laughing along to John Travolta’s impressive performance as a women in Hairspray. Our flight landed at 6am on New Years Day in an airport resembling as much life as the Saharan Desert. Very few people, like nomads, wandered to and fro. None of the stores were open, nowhere to even buy a cup of coffee. One of Europe’s major transport hubs had effectively shut down for what I consider to be the most boring celebration of the year, that of the New Year. In our tiredness, three hours inched by, feeling more like three days.

We made our way to the gate and, after a row with the gate attendant (see Arguing With Lufthansa blog entry here), managed to be allocated seats for the onward flight to Helsinki. I slept most of the way home and, upon landed, we hurriedly collected our luggage and hailed down a taxi to take us home. As the taxi joined the highway, I leaned my head on the glass of the window, feeling sorry myself as I tiredly observed the greyness around me – the trees dotting the distance were devoid of life, the old snow wasn’t even white anymore and the sky resembled a sense of foreboding as if Armageddon were on the way. I took solace in the fact that 2008 had just started and, yes, it was going to be a year like no other.