Day 7. Clanwilliam
After packing up the tent and a warm shower we were off towards Cape Point. This would serve as our starting point for the journey northward.
We passed through Simon's Town and then via a winding road
towards the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve. On the way
there we noticed some baboons playing by the side of the road; we
pulled over and observed, took pictures and marvelled at their
antics. Seeing that we were observing something of interest,
other cars stopped to do the same.
We pushed on towards the Cape of Good Hope Nature Reserve, which
is supposedly home to many species of wildlife.
The road wound its way around steep slopes; several times we
needed to slow the car right down in order to navigate the
bends.
Around one such bend, and some one hundred meters below we saw a
small township or settlement. Colourful wooden buildings
situated right on the ocean's edge. Nearby a flying fox and
considering there was no access road, probably the only way to get
heavy equipment and supplies down below to the inhabitants.
What a perfect place if you want to run away from civilisation and
people - and right on Cape Town's doorstep.
Some kilometres later we saw a sign to the left, which heralded
the entrance to the nature reserve. Paying the obligatory
& exorbitant entrance fee, we drove on towards the famous Cape
of Good Hope. As we wound our way through low shrubs,
scattered rocks and tour buses, we finally arrived at our Cape
Point - the most South-Western point of the African continent.
After taking the obligatory photo at Cape Point, we were
off. Not much to see here - other than the fact that you
stood at the famous location. And as a sailor, having heard
so many stories of sunken vessels when navigating the waters, it's
a bit of a Mecca.
On the way back, we passed by a small group of ostriches pecking
their way through sand, pebbles and the occasional human.
We both looked at each other and decided it's high time to set
off towards the Namibian border. There was no way that we
could make it all the way to the border tonight, so we'd be
spending another night somewhere on the South African side.
We passed through Cape Town and the airport, because we had to
return our friendly GPS. So long old friend, but there won't
be much need for you now. It's back to the old school methods
of paper maps.
We considered driving along the coast but that would have added
another day to our already shrinking schedule, instead we kept on
the N7 towards Vioolsdrift and the Namibian border. Once we
cleared past Cape Town the traffic thinned out and it was easy to
keep to a steady speed. The roads in South Africa are
excellent, on par with any other western country. We made
good time but it was hard to get used to the long hours spent
inside the cabin, particularly for me, since most of the time I'm
on a bicycle.
The terrain started to change as we moved further way from Cape
Town, less hills and smaller vegetation. We passed large
farming properties and a number of small Dutch-like farming
communities. It was clear to see that this was Boer farm
country. White painted buildings in Cape Dutch style - it
really was completely out of place to what one would expect in
Africa.
Every couple of hours we pulled over in a shaded car rest area,
pulled out the fridge mounted on a rolling tray, unfolded the
chairs, boiled some water, made sandwiches, had a light snack and
then moved on. As we passed from one region to the next the
radio would fade in and out of new stations. Sometimes
Afrikaans, English, an African language and for the very first time
the famous clicking sounds of the Xhosa people - our fingers were
never far from the scan button.
As the sun set, we begun to search for a place to put down for
the night. We originally wanted to push on, towards the
border and drive through the night, but in the end commonsense
prevailed and we found ourselves in a small town besides a dam
called Clanwilliam. Apparently it's a popular weekend resort
town. Or at least that's what the LP guide said. We
didn't see much evidence of that.
Deciding to ask if there was a camping ground nearby, we entered
a small guest house. The lady we talked to did give us
directions to a campsite, but was quite alarmed at the fact that we
were willing to stay at a campsite that is right next to a "black"
area. Hmm - once again that bitter racism or perhaps she was
trying to usher us into her empty guest house instead?
We found the campsite, it was right on the edge of the dam,
really quite peaceful and quiet - being the middle of the week
there were only two other campers. We found a nice spot, not
too close to the lights but close enough so that we didn't need to
do everything by torchlight. The tent was up, the table
unfolded, the chairs next and then I saw one of the campers
starting a fire. Oh man - I've wanted to do that for such a
long time. Spending so much time in Australia where gas is
king and open fires quite rare, mainly because of the dangers of
bush fires. The fire gave off a warm glow - it was a
fantastic sight. I had to have one.
Ann-Marie went over to ask where they got the wood, perhaps the
campsite provided it? Before long she was on her way back
with a bag of wood, the people gave it to her and said that we'd be
able to buy more at most petrol stations. Wow!! We'll
be having a fire as well as a warm meal tonight.
We dragged over one of the empty metal barrels and I started my
caveman duties and built the fire. That night we had pasta, a
bottle of wine and the fire (which by the way was a complete
disaster because the wood was moist). Nevertheless, it was
another fantastic day where we covered a huge distance and cleared
out of the big smoke.
After dinner, as we were washing up the dishes at the kitchen
facilities, I sparked up a conversation with some passerby - he
turned out to be the guy who gave Ann-Marie the wood for our
fire. After a few minutes we were back at their campsite
having a good chat. They were a German couple; she was of
Polish descent and spoke the language relatively well, although she
doesn't get a chance to practice much these days. It was
great to see an older couple travelling the world together.
They were just as inspirational as my cycling buddies.
The word for the day I think would be "Vagabond" and as Arthur
Compton-Rickett put it, vagabonds are men "with a vagrant strain in
the blood, a natural inquisitiveness about the world beyond their
doors."