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Namibia Tour 2017 – Part 6 (final)

 Day 12

Heading home, Grunau

We got up, motivated to get going, now heading for home.  This was a great tour, but I was keen on starting with the journey home.

[Source:  Imagery © 2017 Landsat / Copernicus, Data SIO, NOAA, U.S. Navy, NGA, GEBCO, Map data © 2017 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google  www.google.com/maps]

Toit and Christine headed for Windhoek, we said our goodbyes to Georg and Sabine, and left for Grunau in our two vehicle convoy.

From Solitaire the road was extremely good.   At times we did 110km/h on the road.  I kept my vehicle in 4×4 though, for the safety of the four wheel traction.

[Picture:  Mariki Stassen]

Twenty kilometers before the end of our gravel roads, I heard and felt the wroep-wroepe-wroep of a rear tyre disintegrating.  At that time we were going uphill and not very fast, and I could bring the bakkie to a standstill.  There was a moment when the nose headed precariously in the direction of a donga next to the road, but at that time I was slow enough to apply the brakes without fear of losing control.

Johnie was ahead, and at that point there was no signal.  Marga then walked to a nearby hill until she got a signal to call Johnie to come back.  In the meantime, I got going on changing the tyre.

The outside sidewall of the tyre was virtually cut off from the tyre.  The spare wheel is underneath the bakkie, locked with a Solex lock.  I recently checked that it was still working.  And indeed, the key turned, but the lock would not unlock.  After a bit of under my breath encouragement, the lock relented, much to my relief.   I started jacking down the wheel, but after one turn, the crank handle would not move any further.  By then, the spare wheel has dropped only about an inch and was solidly stuck.  And so was I.

Eventually I got under the wheel and lifted it as high as it would go.  I managed to pry the stopper that kept the feel from falling to the ground through the centre hole of the wheel, and had the wheel come down on top of me.  I was rather relieved and remained in that position for a bit.  It was very refreshing.  The rest of the crowd thought I was dead.  But I was not.  Better luck next time.

Eventually I made it out from under the wheel and the vehicle.  As I put the wheel down on the ground without watching where I was going, I managed to split a finger nail when the full weight of the wheel squashed my finger on a rock that was substantially higher than where I expected the ground to be.  I duly noted a protest.

To my surprise this spare wheel,  that had not been inflated in the past 10 years, still had 1.8kpa of pressure in it.  Johnie took the wheel that came off into his Freelander, and off we went.

At Maltehohe we filled up, and attended to the tyre sales and repair outfit.  They did not have the size tyre that I required.  In the 17 years that I have been driving the bakkie, I have never had a puncture.  So given that the 112 km’s to Mariental was now tar, we decided to try our luck at Mariental.  The gentleman at the Maltehohe outfit was kind enough to remove my stuffed up tyre from the rim.  He could also pinpoint the cause of the flat tyre.  A small object on the centre of the tyre caused a similar leak to the one that was repaired at Solitaire.

At Trentyre in Mariental I was assisted by a friendly and helpful George. They stocked Goodyear tyres, but no Firestones, but at least I could get the correct size from him.  The tyre cost what the night in the Ritz would have cost us, so I guess one can say I broke even.  In the meantime the rest of the party trooped over to the restaurant right across the road where they had something to eat and drink.  After also having a bit to eat and drink at the restaurant, we headed out.

I ended up driving in front, and had to do my best to stay ahead of Johnie.  We travelled to Keetmanshoop at a spirited tempo, working on GPS speed rather than the speedometer.  This 221km stretch seems similar to the Laingsburg to Beaufort West road in South Africa.   After yet again taking on fuel (and now also adding a bit of oil to sooth my noble steed’s internal organs), we hit the road for the last stretch to Grunau, with Johnie in the lead.

Darkness fell soon thereafter.  Trucks, hills, and above all, the prevalence of road signs warning about kudu’s, prompted me to go slower than Johnie would have hoped for. Afterwards I enquired whether the kudu signs did not bother him, but he said he did not see it.  Eisj,  Willeboer!

Grunau Country Lodge had reserved for us a 5 bedroom luxury room and two budget rooms, each with two beds, the occupants of which had to use the seperate albution block.  It should only have been two rooms, but there had been a misunderstanding, and we left it at that.  Grunau sits on the main routes to both Noordoewer and Nakop. the hotel was fully booked for the night.

Dinner hour was already past, so we ordered food from the menu. The girl taking the order advised us to sit in the lounge on the soft chairs, and to not be nervous or in a hurry for the food.  We did wait a while for the food, but it was certainly worth the wait. The splendid bottle of Shiraz also assisted in keeping everyone nice and calm.

At Grunau we had by far the coldest night of our holiday.

Day 13

Home, James, home, and don’t spare the horses

[Source:  Imagery © 2017 Landsat / Copernicus, Data SIO, NOAA, U.S. Navy, NGA, GEBCO, Map data © 2017 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google  www.google.com/maps]

With first light we said goodbye to Johnie and Rosie, and left for Noordoewer.  They would be heading for Pretoria through the Nakop border post.

At Noordoewer I took on …

JUKEBOX JIVE

By the time I arrived, the biker gang was there already, hanging around the counter of Molly’s Diner.  In spite of them swigging on their milk shakes, I did not feel intimidated.  I’m not that easily intimidated by 8-year olds, see.

The atmosphere held a palpable excitement, a mixture of parents and younger siblings getting ready for the show to begin.  This year Durbanville Prep School celebrated their 50^th year with their annual concert, this time titled Jukebox Jive.   And what a show it was!

At the hop

The audience was captivated by the opening scene just as the biker gang was captivated by an (ageing) Molly, listening to her tales of the diner and its Jukebox that had been there since 1966, when she’d been there.  Which, of course, explains why she is by now slightly ageing.  Not that one would have noticed it, though.

Obladi oblada…

But speaking of age, you ain’t seen nothing yet.  The next moment an actor burst through onto the scene, with a just as captivating a dance.  I thought he might be slightly too old to be a learner of a school that only goes to grade 3.  I have difficulties guessing age, though.

I was thus relieved to be advised that coach Sampie was indeed somewhat closer to retirement age than to primary phase school going age.  But he ain’t lost none of his agility, I can tell you that.  I assume him to be the hip-hop coach.

With the help of the right song from the jukebox, the laaities in leathers then got tele-trans-time-sported back to the Cove of 1966.

Good golly, miss Molly….!

Impress them with your moves, bro.

Which the kids on stage duly did.  Jailhouse Rock, strait outa the fifties, ek sê.

And then Jimmy spotted her.

Would you be my girl?  Ba-ba-ba-barbara Ann…

Oh, and cleverly, Molly is suddenly her young 1966 self.

Time it was…

Barbara-Ann’s fun was then duly spoiled by her brother.  That’s mos the thing about siblings.

Dad says it’s time to go home, and “if my dad says it is ten o’clock, then it is ten o’clock”, Barbara-Ann explained.  Seriaas?  That’s clearly 1966.  Current day thinking considers “if my dad says it is ten o’clock” to simply mean the opening bet that sets in motion intricate negotiations regarding the true time to come home.

Enter Chi-Chi van der Merwe and Betty.  Man, need I say more….

Under the Boardwalk

Now Micky the sixties surfer started strutting his stuff.  Cool shirt.  Cool moves.  Cool hair.  Anything goes to get Barbara-Ann’s attention.  Which he duly does with some measure of success.

Then followed a cacophony of colours and dances.

Sonbrilletjies (no, not Al Debbo.  And if you don’t know who Al Debbo is, you are too young to read this anyway).   Followed by the Ossewa Jive (I kid you not), and then whole Hawai Huppelkind brigade joined in the fun.

The missing link

Around here somewhere I missed a chapter which was called Limbo.  Or actually, I did see it, I just missed when it started.  But worse than that, I realised I got the characters totally confused.  I was sure that Jimmy, the biker dude chasing Barbara-Ann, got switched!

Turns out he was indeed switched!  Jimmy the biker dude who is chasing Barbara-Ann #1 got taken ill.   So between scenes Jimmy the biker dude who is chasing Barbara-Ann#2 seemlessly took his place.

Sommer just like that.  The show must go on.  And it did!

Candyman

Now here’s a tip for future business opportunities.  Everything in this scene had to do with sugar and sweets of all kinds.  Imagine you take a break here and open up the tuck shop for 10 minutes.  Just a thought, nuh?

Ok, I must say the Drakensberg Boys Choir ensemble at the back threw me out a bit, but I take this as a clever anachronism.

Surfs up

When surfer meets biker.

Jimmy’s bike, he sang, can’t be touched.  Meanwhile in the corner at Molly’s, his chum Vince/Freddy?  duly donned blow up arms and an orange tjoepie around the middle.  Haarh-haarh funny!

Jimmy took his Harley for a spin.  The convincing sound causes the fact that he actually had to push his bike across the stage to go virtually unnoticed.

Ok, by now you should have noticed that the play is based on the Grease story.

So Jimmy and company needed to get back to 2016, fifty years in the future.

Wherever you are

In this scene the two eras got split with dancers dressed in white and red dancing on opposite sides of the stage.  Then as they kept on dancing, the two eras began to blend into each other.  I thought it was rather cleverly done.

This little car of mine

Meanwhile the biker dudes were back into the future, tinkering on a car.  The mechanics went about their business with spanners the size of crowbars.  The dancing scene included a number of guys running around with car tyres.  One of them I would describe a slightly bigger than the rest.  This caused him to very casually and effortlessly go about with his tyre, with some deadpan facial expression to show just how effortless it was.

In the meantime Jimmy confided in (the now older again) Molly how he missed Barbara-Ann.  And then Molly comes up with this pearl of wisdom:

“Strange things happen if you believe.  But you must love rock and roll”. 

Aah, man!  My faith has been restored!

Predictably, Jimmy decided to go back to Barbara-Ann in 1966.

“Me too,” reckoned his one mate.

“Ja, me three,” chirped the other grapgat.

Forget him

Not to be outdone, the surfer dude also arrived in a sun yellow car to woo Barbara-Ann with.

Aah, Mickey, you’re so pretty.

His mates showed off their sixpacks – neatly koki drawn on their torsos!

And then reality struck.  Barbara-Ann’s boet came to fetch her again, berating her for her room that looked like a pig sty.  Nuh?  I thought that only happens in 2016? Thank you, I feel better now.

Bad moon rising

Well, you know mos, it had to happen.  The bikers and the surfers met up again, and not madly in love with each other.  With Barbara-Ann, of course, the object of affection for …

A touch of 4×4

This past holiday we stayed on a farm in the Klein Karoo – basically house sitting while the farmer is away on holiday.  We had friends over, and I took my friend for a look and see on the farm.  It’s been a while since my bakkie has done any off-roading, so I relished at the opportunity just to engage the transfer box for a change.

On the farm there is a kloof where the farmer made a road with a bulldozer a few years back.  Being a bit tied down with farming activities, though, the road was used seldom in the recent past.

It is a rather steep incline.  Low range is essential as a safety precaution against having to contend with a runaway vehicle.  Given recent rains I was uncertain whether it would be a good idea to drive down there.   So we stopped at the point of no return.  Once past this point you have to go down right to the end of the road to be able to turn around, except if you feel crazy enough to drive back in reverse.

After a cursory inspection I judged it safe to proceed.

The 3.4 liter petrol engine does not provide the braking capacity of a high compression diesel engine, so even in low range first gear some slight braking was still required to keep the speed in check.

I find it very frustrating that pictures just never give an indication of how steep an incline is.  Regardless of how I take them, the pictures is just never impressive enough  to convince the unenlightened reader.  The picture below maybe illustrates the incline more clearly.  It shows two fourteen year olds walking down the road, doing battle to keep their balance.

After traversing the steep  incline around two sharp bends, the road evens out below.  However, the further we went, the less it resembled a road.  At some places the road was totally obscured by trees and shrubs that have overgrown it. 

I had nothing with me that could cut or hack, and there was no escape route or place to turn around.  So the bakkie simply had to bash down the obstacles.   At least the general whereabouts of the road was still evident, so one could just point the bakkie’s nose in the right direction.

Eventually we reached the end of the road where there was place to turn the vehicle around again.

By that time the two side mirrors were pressed flat against the vehicle, and the body showed the marks of its battle with the flora.  We were fortunate to not also encounter some of the local fauna. A researcher has taken some very impressive pictures of leopards with her motion detector cameras on the exact spoor where we were travelling.

I know, you may ask ‘where are the pictures of the bakkie’.  No, there is none.  Whilst doing the trip, there was no time to consider that.  These pictures had been taken upon revisiting the kloof a few days later.  But then I thought it better to leave the vehicle at the last point where I could make a seventeen point turn, as is the ordinary turning circle of my bakkie.

In any event, just to get back to the story.  The return trip had the benefit that most of the obstructions had by then been subdued by some two tonnes of vehicle.  However, now it was uphill, instead of downhill.

After passing a little driffie, the bakkie got bogged down with all four wheels losing traction, bringing us to a grinding halt.  After the second attempt, my friend got out to guide me further.

I would probably have done better to also inspect the terrain myself, but first it was the driffie with water running, and I was not inclined on getting wet.  And then followed the obstruction which allowed for only one door to open, which happened to be the passenger door.

In any event,  sticking to the line as indicated by my friend, after a bit of spinning and broadsiding, we managed to get through.  At the time I felt that we barely gained enough traction to pull through, and that if that attempt was not successful, a bit of road building would be medically indicated.

However, upon returning to the spot on foot and taking these pictures, it is clear that I overestimated the severity of the terrain.  It is evident that any rental sedan car would have been able to traverse this little obstacle.…

Skywalker goes to Bloemfontein

Going on a road trip

The Modern Pentathlon national championships South Africa were held in Bloemfontein in April this year.  Kleinboet made it into the Western Cape team, and I decided to join the lot going up to Bloemfontein.  Just to keep an eye on him.

We made up part of the Boland contingent of the Western Cape team, which in turn were made up to a large extent from the boys of Paul Roos.  We departed early on the Thursday morning with a minibus and trailer from Stellenbosch.  Well, for me half past five in the morning is early, given that I had to leave home before 04h00 that morning to get to Stellenbosch.

We have not even left Stellenbosch when a quietness setlled  down on the bus with everyone asleep.  Except Coenie, of course, which was rather reasonable, given that he was driving the minibus.

There had been a mutual and total misunderstanding by all the athletes as to how the pit stops would work.  At the first post dawn stop just past Worcester, they were advised that this was a 10 minutes loo stop only.  But no, everyone also ordered some takeaways to eat.  The result was that a planned 10 minute stop became a 35 minute stop.

Near De Doorns Coenie’s lack of sleep the previous night (and obviously whilst driving too) caught up with him, and he swopped seats with Gerhard.  We managed to not stop at Laingsburg.  Trucks ruled supreme on the road between Laingsburg and Beaufort-West.

As we entered Beaufort-West I noticed that Club Lipstick does not exist anymore.  Not that I ever visited it, but two decades ago we considered it a bit of a landmark on the Southern side of town.  I just knew that this is a snippet of information that the readers of this publication were just dying to know.  We had to take on fuel, so this time the kids were free to take their time.  Which they duly did.  We considered this our lunch stop.

The exercise was repeated at Three sisters.   To our dismay we realised that we had been on the road for close to 7 hours already, and this was only the half way mark.

The upside of modern times is that all kids nowadays have are-we-there-yet deflectors, powered by either MTN, Vodacom or CellC.

That, of course, takes some strain off the driver of the vehicle not having to provide running commentary on the progress being made.

There were not much planning put into fuel stops. As we stopped so often, we just filled up as we went along.   Somehow, though, we got it wrong.  At Colesberg the designated petrol stop was under construction, so we attended the nearby KFC instead.  They did not have unleaded fuel on offer.  Nor any  other fuel, for that matter.  The kids ordered food yet again.  I don’t know what it is with them.  If they don’t need to pee the need to eat!

With the fuel gauge still sitting comfortably at half, we set off for the last stretch to Bloemfontein.  As dusk approached, though, we realised we are running out of both fuel and towns.  After missing Springfontein South, we managed to get the Springfontein North turn off.  I’m not making this up.  This town with a population of 3699 people, has two entrances, duly marked, and really far apart.

After filling up yet again, we could then set off for the last 140 odd km’s knowing we will not run out of fuel. I even allowed my full weight back on the seat.

At 19h07 we reached Bohmer secondary school, where we were to stay in the school res.  The lady on the GPS had some fun first by making us drive right around Böhmer school’s residence before allowing us in at the main gate.

After getting everyone settled in, and some showered and cleaned up, we went to the nearby pizza outlet to get dinner.

For the rest of the weekend, most of us were spoilt with good meals at the res, which Coenie had arranged with juffrou Anna.

And that was the end of day one.

Getting ready

On Friday morning Gerhard and Coenie had to go to the airport to fetch one of the team members who flew in from Cape Town.  For reasons that will in due time will become evident, this member will be referred to by a pseudo name to prevent any embarrassment to any parties. And because fiction and facts might have become slightly mixed as far as the tales relating to him is concerned.  Skywalker still attended a maths olympiad the previous evening, hence his inability to travel with the team.

Anyway, Coenie and Gerhard left shortly after six the morning for the airport.  The flight would land halfpast seven. They allowed ample time for Bloemfontein’s pre-peak hour traffic.  Bloemfontein she is mos big.  With the plane being delayed, they had lots of time having fun at the airport. Bloemfontein airport is mos also big.

After the plane landed and everyone disembarked, though, Skywalker was nowhere to be found.  After calling in the assistance of security to go check and recheck the plane, Skywalker was found.

Sitting at a table, minding his own business, having a coffee and toasted sandwich, totally oblivious to various search parties sent out to find him.

Team talk

Later, with everyone back at the res, a team meeting was held.  Amongst other things, the purpose being to check everyone’s clothing was in order.  That is no small feat.  Modern pentathlon requires you to have swimming gear, running gear, fencing gear, shooting gear, and if you are a senior  participant, also a horse and gear for riding same horse.  Fortunately, though, the horses are normally supplied at the venue, so no need to bring your own.

I digress.  At this briefing it dawned upon Skywalker that he left all his fencing gear at home.  The good news was that he had his speedo and running shoes with him.  As good fortune would have it,  another team member still had to join the team, and he would be departing within the next hour to catch the plane.  Hasty arrangements were made to have the left behind clothing shipped out to Bloemfontein.

Visit

Having fun with cars

So I get this call from my son on my mobile phone one Sunday: “Halooo! I’ve been in an accident.”

And so starts a Sunday afternoon of fun.

I told Ouboet to just stay put (he said that was his plan) and not to allow anyone to tow him away other than the insurance appointed dude (he says he will).

I call the emergency line of the insurance company. I voice mail answers, taking her absolute time telling me how welcome I am at this particular facility, that all calls are recorded, and…..

OK, by then I stopped listening and decided this must be the wrong number. You can’t have such a docile response to emergencies. I terminated the call (if it was not my mobile I would have slammed down the phone just to make my point of course). I dialed the alternative (non-emergency) number I have for the insurance company. Aaaah! The same voice answers, telling me the same story.

Now understand, I’m slightly agitated. My son is standing at the roadside at a busy section of the N1, and I understood other cars were involved. I fear someone doing a local rendition of road rage, and I would want to get there as soon as possible.

Eventually the voice tells me to press 1 if I have an emergency or if I want to lodge a claim. Thank you! Incidentally I mos wish to do both. In their defense I must say that from there on things went pretty quick and smooth. They will send a tow truck.

I jumped in the car to drive out to the scene. I took my thirteen year old along so that he can man the WhatsApp for further communication with Ouboet. Kleinboet also has his mother’s iPad open on the maps function. “Just so you do not get lost,” was my wife’s parting words. Really, woman! I live here. I know this place.

OK, out on the N1 inbound to Cape Town. Ouboet advised that I must take the Sable Road bridge to get back on the N1 outbound. I do so. After a while I can see him standing. However, he is on the N1 proper, and I am on the connecting road running between Century City and the N1. I cannot get close to him. I can see there is another car, but no overt aggression is observed.

Now I need to get back on the N1 inbound, take the next bridge after Sable road, and repeat the exercise. Piece of cake, it will just take a bit of time.

The first bridge where I can do this is the connection with the N7. So I take the turn-off. But hey, this is wrong! Instead of heading to the bridge to cross over and get back on the N1 I find myself on the road heading to Malmesbury. @##$%!

Which way now. I turned left at the next road, now heading behind Century City in the direction of Milnerton. I missed the Sable road connection (well, I was not looking for it, really) and soon thereafter found myself in Milnerton. I turned left and now headed in the general direction of the N1. Traffic light red. Next traffic light red. Next traffic light green until I’m nearly there. Ysterplaat. Traffic light red.

Ouboet’s WhatsApp comes through: the truck is here.

This place must really be a red light district. Negotiating red light upon red light I eventually get on the N1 outbound. At least now I am in the lane that will take me to Ouboet.

We get there. No cars.

?

Kleinboet checks the WhatsApp. Ouboet is waiting at the N1 City MacDonalds. Good. Now just for the N1 City turnoff.

The first bridge is Monte Vista Boulevard. There is no board for N1 City yet, so that must be the next turn-off. Noooo! Just as I pass under the Monte Vista Boulevard bridge I realised I just missed the turn-off to N1 City. No problem. Just take the next turn-off.

No. Giel Basson does not allow access from Cape Town, only from the other direction. Aaaaaah!

Next bridge, Plattekloof. This time I get it right.

So I eventually arrived at N1 City. After a cursory inspection of the damage to the car and a quick word with Ouboet to check that he is OK, and with the driver of the tow truck, we are off again.

On the advice of the tow truck we head directly to the Maitland police station to report the accident.

On the way there I got filled in by Ouboet on what happened. The first car in a row of three cars suddenly slammed on brakes and came to a dead stop. In the middle lane, and for absolutely no discernible reason at all. The car behind him also slammed on the brakes and stopped. He obviously had a good reason to do so. And third in the row was Ouboet. He had to swerve not to collide with the car in front of him (that’s now the one with the good reason to stop).

Unfortunately Ouboet’s maneuver entailed a slight over correction, sending him into the rails, then up in the air in a 360 degree spin, and back on the tarmac. According to the guy in the car in front of him (the guy stayed with him until the tow truck came) he thought Ouboet would overshoot into the lane of N1 inbound traffic.

Fortunately not.

I sounds like it must have been an impressive sight. He must show me sometime.

Now Ouboet is a bit flustered. “I knew this was going to happen,” he lamented. “This weekend was just too good to last!”

“Aag, piss off, pessimist,” I tried to cheer him up.

“O ja, I told the insurance guy on the phone my driver’s licence expired yesterday, “ he mentioned.

“You what?!” Aha! Now I suddenly understood what could have made that first car slam on his brakes the way it did. “You idiot! I should have known this weekend was too good to last. What were you thinking?!”

So Ouboet took out his licence just to check the expiry date. “Oh, no, it’s OK. It only expires next week.”

“See, life isn’t all bad. What did …

A Taste of West Coast

Laaiplek & Stompneus Bay

We recently went for a short weekend to Stompneus Bay, my home town. 

It’s a leisurely two hours drive to get there.

A river runs through it

We arrived at the twin towns of Laaiplek  / Velddrift on Saturday afternoon.  The Berg river runs through the town and reaches the sea there. 

Velddrift is where the annual Berg River canoe marathon ends.

[Source:  Imagery @2015 CNES/ Astrium, Cnes /Spot Image, Digital Globe, Landsat,Map data @2015 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]

Some 80 species of birds can be found in the estuary there.  I’m told there are 30 000 birds there, but they did not say who counted them.

Down by the river

I found myself just too late to catch the SA Fisheries Museum open.  They just closed three minutes prior to my arrival.  Will simply have to come back later for that.

We attended the Laaiplek hotel for lunch.  We sat outside.

And this is the view we had over the river from where we sat.

Close by the the Laaiplek Slipway did business.

And some 100 meters away the Martinho has apparently been docked there since 2005, but sunk in 2010.  Maybe the owners should contact Laaiplek Slipway?

At the jetty there were very few boats.  Most were out to sea.  Stormkop was there.

Shelly Point

Later the evening we returned to Stompneus Bay and headed for Shelly Point where we stayed for the night.

Stomneus Bay is part of the bigger St Helena Bay, where the Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama set foot on African soil in November 1497. 

We studied this at primary school, probably because the school was at Stompneus Bay.  I was never good with dates.  Thank goodness for Wikipedia, nuh?

As we drove along the coast to our destination we could see the trawlers heading out to sea.  Some found fish close by the shore.  We spotted Silver Bounty going about his business very close to the shore at Shelly Point.

We had a glorious sunset.  I only waited until too late before I took the picture.

The sound of memories

During the spitbraai dinner at the Bon Shelly Point hotel we were entertained by a gentleman making live music.  Rather nice.

About 04h30 the morning I woke up from what sounded like a helicopter hover overhead.  Later I thought it is probably a truck.  But there were no roads nearby for a truck that can make that kind of noise can drive.  And then it dawned upon me what I was hearing!

I got up and watched out of the window.  Between the lighthouses of Cape St Martin and Shelly Point I counted six trawlers heading to the factories with their loads of fish.  The typical wooden vessels’ engines produce up to 500 horsepower, and the bigger steel vessels up to 1500 horsepower.   Which probably explains the rather beefed up sound effects.  Picture the sound of a lorry’s exhaust brake – and amplify it a number of times.

I got back in bed and found myself still for long time listening to the vessels on their home run, with a smile on my face.  The sweet sound of memories.

 …

Northern Cape tour – Part 1

First leg:  Montagu to Augrabies

[Map data © 2015 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]

We left Cape Town on a sunny Friday afternoon after a week of rather good Cape Town winter weather.

Our first stop at Montagu still offered some benign weather.  Moving out earlyish on Sunday morning (12 July) it was a different story, though.  Through the  Keisie valley to the connection with the N1, temperatures dropped to 2 degrees.   Pretty chilly in our book.

We came on the N1 between De Doorns and Touwsriver, turning north.  A bit unsure of the fuel situation in the small towns we are to encounter for the rest of the day, I played it safe and filled up at Touwsriver.

Matjiesfontein

As we had to turn off at Matjiesfontein we decided to do a quick look and see tour of Matjiesfontein.

The website  offers some insight on the history of Matjiesfontein.  It was founded in 1884 and became a Victorian health spa.

The Lord Milner hotel was built in 1899 at the start of the Anglo-Boer war, and served as a field hospital, with some 10 000 British troops camping near the station.

Sutherland / Middelpos

From there we headed for Sutherland (population 2800).    The garage there was closed at that hour, so it was just as well that I filled up at Touwsriver.  We did a quick stop at the Sutherland hotel – it seemed like the only place where one could get access to ablution.

From there we took the gravel road to Middelpos and beyond.  The road was quite good.  Heeding some prior advice that the gravel roads in these parts of the Karoo have leiklip which is prone to mince up tyres,  I travelled slowly.  I was acutely aware of the fact that my Tucson was shod with highway tyres, rather than on/off road tyres, and limited my speed to 80km/h.  One could easily have gone faster.

Then we hit some muddy patches.  I tried to discern the muddy parts from the non-muddy parts, but of no avail.  There seemed to be no tell tale signs indicating which are the slimy bits.  You would just feel the car give way, and hear the noise of the mud clods hitting the inside of the wheel arches.   At one point we were going downhill with a bakkie approaching from the front, when the Tucson started slip sliding away.  Not due to any effort on my part the car kept on our half of the road and we safely went past the oncoming vehicle.  That was at 60km/h.  So I keep the gas to rather sedate levels for the rest of the road.

We missed Middelpos.  You had to turn off to get to the town.  Middelpos was evidently the stop over for a biggish motorcycle crowd.  We picked up the tail of this entourage as we went past the turn off, having had quite a number of bikes approaching from the front the previous few kilometers.

Afterwards I looked Middelpos up, and now I’m disappointed that I did not take the trouble of visiting the village.  There are some websites with detail about the town:

http://www.karoo-southafrica.co.za/?page_id=182

http://www.karoo-southafrica.co.za/?page_id=182

Middelpos rendered sir Anthony Sher, a famous British based actor.  OK, I’ve never heard of him, but I can’t even remember the names of the movie I watched last night, so my knowledge in this regard obviously does not count.

Just before we hit the R27 (the Calvinia – Keimoes road) we passed two vehicles standing next to the road.  One of them lost a tyre to the leiklip.

Brandvlei

From there onwards it was the tarred highway.  We filled up at Brandvlei again, and attended the Windpomp restaurant, that boasts to be the best pump in town.

It was Sunday afternoon, and only two other tables were taken when we got there.

The man in charge had a slight situation with a would be patron who wanted to join his friends already inside, but who was not welcome, apparently due to a well established history between the two of them.  The patron was shown the board that indicated that admission is reserved.  Instead of taking his cue as not being on the A-list, the would be patron was instead offended by the innuendo that he could not read.  He nevertheless departed, albeit begrudgingly.

Augrabies

We then hit the road for the final stretch to Augrabies.  It’s been a while since I have done such long distance travelling, but it has not lost its allure for me.

Kenhardt was doing their Sunday afternoon nap when we passed through.  Or maybe they just ignored us.  It must be my family.

I have difficulties getting the layout of Keimoes and Kakamas.  You have a bit of dorp, but then it seems to just go on and on and on with small farming establishments or businesses next to the road.

Especially once you pass through Kakamas you find these humongous warehouses / package storage, and massive pieces of covered citrus orchards and vineyards.

[Source: Imagery © 2015 TerraMetrics, Map data © 2015 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]

After passing through Kakamas we turned right on the road heading to the Augrabies National Park.  We went through Marchand, and a village with the name Augrabies.  I was surprised.  I thought the Falls carried the name Augrabies, but it would appear the whole area is Augrabies, with every second business sporting the prefix “Augrabies”.

Eventually we got to our destination at the Augrabies Falls Lodge and Camp some 7 kilometers from the Park.  The facilities were magnificent.  As the name indicate, they also have a camping area with very nice lawn and trees.  At that time there were no campers, but the next day some 7 identical canvas tents were pitched there, so I assume an overlander group made use of the facilities.

Part 2 to follow

 …

Northern Cape tour – Part 2

Second leg:  Augrabies and Riemvasmaak

Augrabies National Park

We visited the park the next day.  Since we had been there some 11 years ago a number of new boardwalks and railed platforms had been erected, enabling you to see the waterfall from different angles.

At some of these platforms we had to first shoo the dassies away to get on.

They were reluctant to move.  Which I understand.  It was about 6 degrees Celsius, with a very chilly wind blowing. I detected a hint of distrust on the part of the dassies.

The waterfall is an impressive 56 meters fall.  With the boardwalks one can view the fall from various angles.

According to the Sanparks website the Khoi people called it Aukoerebis, place of great noise.  Point taken.

We went on a drive through the park.  We did not do the whole drive, but visited the red granite moon landscape.

From there we went to mount Ararat.

And then again to another lookout point, Oranjekom,  where there is a bend in the river.  So you see where it comes from, and where it is going.

Near the camp a naughty little bugger was keeping a lookout for things to scavenge.  We saw him have a go at a window of one of the houses.  We saw the aftermath of him visiting the tented camps as well.  He was not popular.

One day, this hairy guy will become a butterfly.  So I’m told.  The one below, I mean.

Quiver tree.

Night Drive

Dressed up like Eskimos we went on a one-and-a-half hour night drive the evening.

The dressing up turned out to be a good idea.  Some of the things that the guide stopped for us to savour is the Katabatic wind.  That is the name of the **** cold wind that blows at night.  Apparently this lovely wind also has a daytime name, the Anabatic wind.  Now you know.

The guide did his level best making the tour worth our while.  The hour-an-a-half turned into a three hour trip.   The guide did his best to make this an informative two-way discussion.  Fortunately my wife hates uncomfortable silences, so between her and the biology teacher on the tour with us, they kept the guide good company.  If they could just drive away the chill the way they did with the uncomfortable silences.

We saw Cape hares and bush hares, black thorn (swarthaak, which I misheard as swarthaas, much to the delight of my family), spotted eagle owl, kudu, klipspringer, a variation of reeds and bushes, which admittedly I also saw during my self-drive day drive, only without the benefit of running commentary on it.  And, of course, we were introduced to the ***** katabatic wind.  Quite a few times.  Actually, it was a pretty ongoing encounter.

Just on 22h00 the evening we were dropped off again at the parking area.  Kudos to the guide for a very nice tour, and for his endeavors to keep the occupants of the vehicle going in a language none were quite comfortable in.

English, she ees not beeg in Augrabies.

Riemvasmaak

Having done and seen all we came for at the Augrabies National Park, we decided to go find Riemvasmaak.

Riemvasmaak has a very politically laden history.  In about 1973 the Riemvasmakers were moved to make place for an army shooting terrain.  The Xhosa speaking part of the community was moved to the Eastern Cape, and the Nama speaking people to Namibia.  No amount of assuming can get met to a logical reason why they moved the Riemvasmakers so far away from their place.

In 1993 they were moved back there.  The Xhosa speakers were moved to Vredesvallei at the banks of the Orange river, and 17 km’s apart, the Nama people to the old mission station – that is where we went.

[Imagery © 2015 TerraMetrics, Map data © 2015 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]

I understand the concept of righting a wrong, and of returning to the place of you birth, but I had difficulties in understanding why the people would have wanted to move back there.

But the government invested heavily in the project.  This is evident from the way the settlement had been developed.  The last few kilometers before the town has even been tarred.  But I could not spot any economic activity close by where the people of Riemvasmaak can go earn a living.

The 650 Riemvasmakers all share in a grape farm at Vredesvallei that the government bought for R28m and added some R12m in development grants.  However, the whole project had been put under curatorship.  By 2014 no Riemvasmakers derived any benefits from the farm.  I don’t know what the current position is.

Once through the settlement you hit a baddish gravel road, and a few kilometers later we found the office for the hot spring where we had to register.  We forgot to draw cash before we left Kakamas, but could get together just enough cash to get us into the springs camping area.

Entering the area you look down into a valley where people were camping, and where rustic houses were built.

Further man made additions such as (I assume) water tanks are camouflaged either with rocks stacked around them, or with read mats covering them.

Descending down to the springs had me a bit concerned.  It is rather steep going down, and I wondered whether my front wheel drive Tucson will make it back up again on its own.  The road split in two.  One for 4×4’s and the other for platkarre.  The latter has cement slabs for improved traction.

Some of the houses were occupied and some campers had their camp made near the springs.

At the springs there is a small pool.  Actually two pools.  The water temperature felt slightly warmer than a gym pool on a good day.

We met a Swiss gentleman who plays the pan flute.  He gave us a short demonstration.  The steep cliffs surrounding us seemed to make for good acoustics, and it was a rather splendid show we got to listen to.  In fact, my daughter was so fired up by this that she also took the spot after everyone left and sang us a song.  I was duly impressed.

It can get lonely here.  …

Northern Cape tour – Part 3

Third leg:  A Touch of Karoo

Kakamas

Or rather, the Pienk Padstal just outside Kakamas.

Returning from Riemvasmaak we attended the Pienk Padstal.

A rather interesting place, but why the call it the Pienk Padstal beats me, nuh.

Even the ablution turned out to be something to observe.  Or at least, the men’s side.  I did not attend the ladies’.  In the men’s there is a picture of a scantily clad beautiful lady sitting ugly.  With a notice next to it reading that management had been advised that this picture promotes pornography that may lead to nasty things.  So they implore the visitors to behave themselves.  And for gents not to flatter themselves and to rather stand closer to the urinal than they think is advisable.

Stylish wind chimes.

Kakamas itself looks like a biggish town.  With a population of some 9500 it is about as big as Calvinia.  How green is my valley would be an apt name.

[Imagery © 2015 TerraMetrics, Map data © 2015 AfriGIS (Pty) Ltd, Google]

Here the Mas of Kakamas got the green light.

Passing the local high school I did not spot the not well marked speed bump until I took off in the direction of Jupiter.  The lift-off was hampered by gravity, though, which caused a swift and bumpy return to mother earth.

A touch of Karoo

The last leg of our tour entailed a visit to a Karoo farm.  Now picture this.  You live on a farm.  Your closest town is 75km’s away (population 3400).  Second closest town 80km’s away (population 2800), and your actual town (population 9700) is 135km’s away.  Imagine the school run.  Or the run to the shopping mall.  Or rather, don’t bother.  It does not exist.

Ok, so how to get there?

“You go past the Granaatboskolk turnoff.”

“There’s a place called Granaatboskolk?”

“Ja, but ignore the turnoff.  You look out for where you get the crossing to Breekbeenkolk and Tontelbos.”

“You’re making this up, right?”

“What, haven’t you heard of these places before?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Sakrivierstation?”

“Huh?”

“Kooktjieskolk?”

“****-off!”

“OK, do you know where Calvinia is?”

“Yes, yes, yes!  I know where Calvinia is!”

“Ok, good.  It’s not near Calvinia.”

Sigh.

I’m telling you, the people who make a living here not only have hair on their teeth.  They shave the hair on their teeth.

Eskom?   Who’s that?  But please meet Mr. Lister.The Lister is started as it had been done for the past sixty plus years.  By hand.  You (well, the farmer actually) cranks the handle, and then you get this chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-katak-katak-katakatakataka and off goes the one cylinder engine leaving you under a cloud of smoke which clears after a while.  And then there is light.

OK, in this instance the farmer went somewhat further with solar power and a battery pack.  So the Lister is just the back-up.

Electricity is self supplied.  Water is self supplied.  You make your own roads.  If you want a dam, you have to build it yourself.  All you need to do is to afterwards pay the government tax for the privilege of collecting water in your dam (no seriously, I kid you not).  If something goes seriously wrong here, it’s a 20 km drive just to get to the tar road.  Then you still need to get to town.  That the government can levy tax on farms such as this just beats me.  But sorry, I digress.

Meanwhile back in the kitchen, the sixty year old Fairy anthracite driven oven (next to the gas stove) serves as a donkey for the sink hot water, and to bake bread in.

The Americans call biltong beef jerky.  And that is defined as dead dried meat, to be eaten “in times of hardship”.  Of course, in South Africa it is a delicatessen.  Go figure.  But on this farm it’s part of the staple food.  You begin your day with carved biltong in your krummelpap.  Which goes along nicely with the yoghurt that the farmer’s wife made herself.  And of course, a Karoo lamb tjoppie here and there is all par for the course.  Eat your heart out, Cape Town!

The Karoo plains give new meaning to the word verlatenheid.  But the people here are the salt of the earth, I’m telling you. We left there rejuvenated. No, really.

On the way back home we passed through Calvinia.  I feel quite triumphant about the town.  This time I managed to find the time to take a picture of the slightly oversized post box in Calvinia, unlike the previous times I passed through.So there. Been there, dunnit.  Calvinia conquered.

And a nice little tour under our belts.

Tour stats:

Hyundai Tucson 2.0 Manuel

Distance travelled:  2135 km

Fuel used:                  190.62 litres

Costs:                        R2 638.68

Consumption:              11,2km/l…

Burn, Boobs & Battery