Our South Africa holiday began with a howling wind from the south east. We secured Voyageur to her pontoon berth with lines galore and hoped for the best leaving our friendly next door neighbour John, as her minder. He promised he would keep an eye on her and regularly check the shore power. It had a habit of tripping out and with batteries to keep topped up and a freezer full of meat which I did not to want to go to waste, we did not want to take any chances.
From Chapman's Peak Drive we looked out over the Atlantic Ocean. The sea was very rough but at the same time we could admire its raw beauty. We took the coast road around False Bay but at Muizenberg a diversion inland was forced upon us. The road was blocked by sand blowing from the beach. We rejoined the coast once more however on the other side of this huge expanse of bay that stretches from Cape Point at its most westerly point to Cape Hang Klip. Climbing high, the road clings to the craggy Hottentots Holland Mountains before diving inland to bypass majestic, infamous Cape Hang Klip. I have a love hate relationship with this major headland. We recalled our superhuman struggle to get around this major headland a week ago. It rises up like the rock of Gibraltar or Calpe in southern Spain. On this day the ocean looked no more benevolent and it was sheer heaven to be viewing it from terra firma.
Checking into our B&B at Hermanus, our first overnight stop, set the scene for the following two weeks. The accommodation and catering we found to be of a very high standard. We booked a whale watching tour for early the following morning. It was getting very late in the season for this. In peak season there are said to be around three hundred of the Southern Right Whale, up from Antarctica during their annual six month migration, but now we were told there were only about ten remaining so we were very fortunate to have several sightings of a mother and calf. On to Mossel Bay, where we spent the morning in the Bartolomeu Dias Museum complex. They had a 340 ft long replica of the caravel which was in real life sailed from Lisbon to Mossel Bay as part of the quincentenary celebrations in 1988. Knynsa was the next port of call and we were frankly disappointed. We found it much too touristic a place and apart from the waterfront complex, the town we thought was rather scruffy for such a popular tourist destination. The weather had up until now had been glorious but leaving Knynsa it poured with rain. However our drive through the Tsitsikamma National Park still looked beautiful. Deep gorges cut through misty evergreen forests and it reminded us all of home!
Now in Jeffrey's Bay, a popular surfing resort, we stayed in Anita's guesthouse, the lady who had organised our whole trip. It was a perfect jumping off point for the first of two safari visits. The Sibuya Game Reserve was reached by a leisurely 45 minute cruise up the Karuga River, sipping wine on the way. Although it was advertised a tented camp our accommodation was luxurious to say the least. Enormous comfortable, cosy beds, huge bathroom with all mod cons, it was such a shame it was only a one night stop. Kerrow was our guide for the whole time there and with just the four of us it was all a very personal service. We saw the four of the big five, lion, leopard, elephant and hippo. Surprisingly the elephants were the scariest of all. They came up to our vehicle a little too close for comfort, their behaviour somewhat temperamental, but Kerrow, expertly manoeuvred the jeep out of the way. Schotia Safari was the next wildlife experience, again the accommodation top quality, but this time we were sharing our vehicle with other guests. Unlike Sibuya where the lions are fed, on this game reserve they hunted their own food. It is wonderful to see the animals in their natural environment and such a thrill to see them at such close quarters. The gruesome sight of a crocodile crunching on a freshly caught terrapin sent a shiver down my spine. The night safari was a disappointment however for we saw very little and it made the day seem rather too long.
We headed away from the coast. Now in 'Cape' apple country, fertile valleys revealed mile upon mile of fruit orchards stretching as far as the eye could see. Once through the Outeniqua mountain range the land became noticeably more arid and now immense fields of cereal crops opened up in front of us. Oudtshoorn lies in a low plain. It is the centre of the ostrich feather industry. A visit to the Cango Caves, a labyrinth of tunnels and cavernous spaces inside the Swartberg foothills was followed by a visit to an Ostrich farm. This was the first disappointment of our trip so far. Very commercialised these poor creatures were merely a circus of performing animals. I had read in my guide book that the practice of riding ostriches has been banned in Cape Town. Their legs are thin and hollow and break easily.
Our accommodation at the Thorntree Country House however made up for this and we had two very relaxing overnight stays there. It was the first place with a swimming pool actually warm enough to swim in and every morning we found our hire car had been washed by a member of staff. Such service! Our penultimate night we spent at the Knorhoek Winery, a small estate close to Stellenbosch, and a wine tasting was a fitting finale of what had been a lovely relaxing and interesting two week vacation. This country is very beautiful, the scenery changes constantly and everyone we met was very friendly. We never felt threatened but we were careful not to go into the poorer townships. There is no doubt though that South Africa does have security issues. It is unsafe to walk around at night, and armed response signs on the majority of private homes tell their own story. Properties are surrounded by razor wire and it seems that in order to live here safely you need a couple of Rottweiler's patrolling the grounds. For many it is 'de rigueur' to sleep with a pistol under the pillow. Everywhere we go it is "5 Rand and your car will be safe Mister". It feels like we have paid out a small fortune but yes the car has indeed always been safe.
We returned once more to Voyageur and yes of course she was fine. John and Jenny joined us aboard for sundowners with their French friends, Peta and Nick. They had all flown down from Durban where they had left Tzigane, unable to get the required window of weather to get here and were staying in Fishhoek, an excellent base for sightseeing in and around Cape Town. With just a couple of days left before Sue and Donald were due to go home a visit to the "Cape" was a must. To get there you have enter the National Park and rightly pay for the privilege. It is a wonderful, wild and desolate chunk of South Africa. This headland juts out into the South Atlantic like a long skinny finger pointing towards Antarctica. We walked to the original and top lighthouse and then on beyond to Dias Point, where the second and lower light was constructed, as the former was too often shrouded in fog and vessels could not see the light. The views out over a beautiful and breezy Atlantic were nostalgic. A connecting boardwalk takes you to adjacent Cape of Good Hope. We couldn't have wished for a better day. It was quite something for us to stand there and look seawards safe in the knowledge that we had gone around this notorious headland and what is more we would never have to go there again.....
It ought to have been a highlight but frankly it was a waste of time and money. We drove into Cape Town early to catch a fast ferry catamaran over to Robben Island, the prison where Nelson Mandela had been incarcerated for nearly two decades. From the pier we were herded like cattle onto a bus, with a running commentary from an ex prisoner which seemed more like a monologue, an endless lecture on apartheid. In our opinion it did nothing towards good white/black relations and the anti apartheid movement, in fact we thought it detracted from it. There was never any opportunity to walk around the place. The tour really requires an overhaul. The only place of interest, a large cell block with mementoes and personal stories of ex political prisoners where we could have easily passed an interesting hour we were rushed through in five minutes with no time to read of their prison experiences.
Susan Mackay