Sunday 26th Feb, Road Trip...

03h00 - Up at the call of the alarm on my new mobile phone, the Nokia 9300i - nice machine if you're into gadgets, which I am. We wanted to leave at 03h00 but by the time we'd finished packing and tidying up the night before, it was 23h00, so I figured we'd have an extra hour in bed. We'd need it and, instead, left at 04h00. We left home just as it started raining. A fine drizzle that would piss Duke off and soak Bonnie to the skin, but there was nothing we could do but show the dogs their beds under the thatch. We had a road to hit, and fourteen hundred-odd kilometres to cover in as little time as possible. A couple of hundred km's into the drive and there were one or two moments where I caught myself on the brink of dozing off into la-la land, but I steadied myself by popping another Liquorice Allsort into my mouth. Ever tried eating Allsorts at 8am? Talk about a sugar high, even though it only lasted a few minutes. One thing that amazed me the whole way down into the Orange Free State area was the rivers flowing strongly. Every single stream was flowing at full capacity, must be the first time in many years as I don't think I've ever seen it in all my time in SA. Somewhere between the 2nd and 3rd cup of coffee we had to stop. SA though, is not exactly geared up for long-distance tourism and we had to find a convenient bush in a layby. The Ford Ranger SuperCab must have been designed by a woman with SBS (Small Bladder Syndrome) as the doors open away from each other, unlike normal pickups that open in the same direction. Manoevering in next to the bush, Steph opened the doors, steadied herself on the running board and blew off some steam. The yellow gone from her blue eyes, we hit the road again. Stopped off just before Bloemfontein (Flower Fountain as a direct translation - not sure why, cos the only vegetation is the people who live there) for some fresh coffee and a stretch. Back in the car after 20mins and off to our next stop, passing over the Orange River into the Northern Cape. The Orange was also flowing strongly, indicating that the sleuces on the Gariep Dam had been opened to let some excess water into the river system. Letting water into a river? An interesting concept. Steph took a turn behind the wheel, giving me the chance to grab one hour, thirty nine minutes and seventeen seconds of uncomfortable sleep. Again, the car must have been designed by a woman, as the seats, when reclined as far back as possible, leave a hump in the small of your back ensuring that you don't sleep too long. Next time, they should make the hump poke you in the back in the upright position so that you don't ever fall asleep behind the wheel. It rained the whole way to Colesberg - about 700km worth of wet stuff. Sometimes cats and dogs, sometimes rats and mice, just enough of a drizzle to make the wipers squeak as they passed over the fine droplets. Colesberg came up just in time, judging by the amount of fuel the lackey put into the tank. Eighty-two-and-a-half litres to be exact. And on an eighty-five litre tank, we had cut it fine. I'd been sweating in my shorts for the last forty-odd km's when I saw the low fuel level light come on. As the needle was above empty I hadn't thought much about it, but this was our first long trip in the van and I didn't know how soon the needle would drop to the big "E" (for "empty", not "enough"). Now I know...almost as soon as the light comes on and you take your eyes off it. After the tank was filled to the big "F" (for "full", not "finished"), we got back on the road again for the next 320km to Beaufort West. Where the hell Beaufort East, North and South are, don't ask me, I don't have a clue. This was where we turned off the N1 highway and onto the N10. Maybe it was still the N1 and some wise-ass had chalked a "0" behind it, I dunno, but it actually felt like we'd turned onto the D666. The system of naming roads in SA is quite simple, as indicated below: - N - National highway - Normally good condition (but don't count on it) - M - Motorway (in cities) - Might be in good condition (but don't count on it) - R - Rural road - Really slim chance that it might be in good condition (but yep, don't count on it) - D - Dirt road - Don't even think about it being in any sort of a driveable condition (for once, you can count on it) There were a couple of annoying roadworks along the road while they tried to upgrade it to a "N" class road again. A right pain in the ass they were with stops for as long as ten minutes, just long enough for another fuckin' taxi to scream down the emergency lane, about two hundred pairs of arms waving out the windows and sixty pairs of Omo-white eyes and accompanying pearly whites flashing out the back window at you. Actually, there had been an ANC rally at one of the little dorpies just outside Beaufort West (we had a municipal election on the 1st of March) and, with everyone sufficiently pissed and proudly flashing off their t-shirts with our junkie State President on it (apparently Thabo has a cocaine addiction), they had all piled back into the taxis (which should have been called Volkswagens, but Hitler got there first) and headed off home for more merriment. Anyway...we headed into a mountain pass in the Groot Swartberge ("Big Black mountains"). Why the hell they're called "black" mountains I don't know, cos they're actually fuckin' brown. But the scenery was absolutely phenomenal. And me, like the daft bastard I can sometimes be, forgot to put the camera in the cab with us. I would equate the scenery with driving through the bottom of the Grand Canyon, except that I can't do that cos there's a dirty great big fuckin' river flowing through that (the Colorado, for all those who might ask). Regardless, it was a fantastic sight, and I'd gladly drive it again just to take some photos. This time, however, I just wanted to get to our destination, an ice cold beer and a nice warm bed. The weather from Beaufort West to just outside George had been brilliant sunshine, boiling hot coming through the pass. As we saw the mist coming over the Outeniqua Mountains (pronounced "Out-in-eek-wah"), we thought "Wow" and I lectured Steph how cool air from the sea, hitting the hot air from the mountains, caused the mist to form and roll over the peaks like a table cloth. How fuckin' wrong could I be? Well, actually, I was right but in this case it was also because the weather in George was shite. Fuckin' raining again...and we hadn't been able to see it cos it was hidden behind a mountain range. Coming through George I thought to myself that this was a little town that looked like I could live in it, but that was shortlived by Steph who commented on what a shithole it was. About twenty km's from George though, is one of the wonderful places on earth called "The Wilderness". Fantastic beaches, warm ocean, peace and quiet, are the order of the day. There are a few more houses gone up since I last went through there, but it still retains the charm I remember. Fifty-odd km's further on and you hit the oyster capital of SA...Knysna (pronounced "Nize-nah"). Most of the older houses here are built in quasi-Victorian style, lots of wood (sufficiently protected against the sea air), compact houses designed to keep out the night chill of a Cape winter's night. We'd both love to come and stay in Knysna, but house prices are ludicrous. Definately for the rich and famous only, which excludes us as we're only good looking. At some point through the holiday, we'll come back through here and Steph can have an oyster platter for lunch. Me, I'll have the calamari as, even at the best of times, I don't like the feel of post-nasal drip snot heading down my throat into my stomach...even with Tabasco Sauce and pepper. There's a couple of nice walks around Knysna too, as well as the possibility of doing some scuba diving. I did my first two diving courses here...typically, sixteen degrees water temperature with visibility about the length of your arm. If you can dive here, you can dive any shithole in the world. Nah, not really, some of the most amazing sea life is to be found off the the coastline around here. The last 20km's went off quite quickly and it was time to get out Stan's directions to the "flat" (more about that just now). Coming into Plettenberg Bay, we found the Piesang Valley turnoff (Banana Valley) and hit the long downhill into town. A short drive further and we finally arrived at our holiday home, destination for the next 8 or 9 days (after which we'll be heading up the coast to my folks - another long drive). We'd been on the road for almost exactly (insert oxymoron to the left of this space) fourteen hours, a total of 1,431 kilometres behind us at an average speed of 102.21428571428571428571428571429km per hour according to the 9300i's calculator. I had driven for over twelve of those hours and I was absolutely fuckin' knackered, so much so that the last hundred km's or so, I could hardly focus my eyes. After figuring out how to unlock the garage and carrying the luggage (only what we needed for now - the rest could wait for morning) up the fifteen (thousand) stairs, we sat down and had a quick cold beer (how sweet it was too) and then unpacked our clothing into the empty shelves in the cupboards. A quick shower later and I felt at least half human again, ready for dinner. We went up to a restaurant we'd been to a couple of times before on our last visit, Cornutti's, which as the name alludes to is a small Italian-style pizza joint. The food's good, but we decided there and then that it'd be our last meal there, partly due to the cost of the food, but also partly due to the medium-sized cockroach I'd found floating in my last drink (luckily before I'd taken a slurp). Back to the "flat" and a quick single-malt before hitting the sack. Now, I mention "flat", but that doesn't describe it accurately. Like just about everything Stan owns, this place ain't little. It's probably about a hundred square metres in size, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, small study, three patios (two of which overlook the valley in front of the large picture windows that are as wide as the lounge area) and a lounge/dining room/kitchen area the size of a small farm. The "flat" is bigger than the first house I owned, including its garden. And it's furnished tastefully, comfy lounge chairs and couch, soft lighting, a bed as big as my first house and a view that, alone, would cost a million bucks. After the single-malt had settled my stomach, it was time to grab some sleep. We had agreed that Monday would be a day of vegging out, nothing strenuous, maybe a little shopping for some groceries, read a bit, sleep a bit, listen to some music...that sort of stuff. And so it was to bed...