Fear and Loathing in the Rainbow Nation: A savage journey up the coast of South Africa

Hunter S. Thompson set out in his first published novel to examine the death of the American dream via a drug fueled road trip to cover a motorcycle convention in Las Vegas. The rest is journalism history.

In retrospect, I find that my trip up the Southern Coast of South Africa from Cape Town to Durban was, rather than an examination of the death of a dream, the realization of a part of a dream that I never knew that I had. Namely, the dream of truly independent, yet constant travel. This theme will be elaborated on in the future, but it is a good starting point.

Also, other than beer, no drugs were involved.

Day 2

We left Mossel Bay early and headed up to an area called "the wilderness." It should be noted that in nearly every coastal town in Southern Africa, one can engage in nearly any outdoor activity ever dreamed up by man. Want to go abseiling (rappelling) down a cliff then "kloof" (cliff jump) off of it? Done. Want to go sky diving then take a 3 hour trek into a forest to see a waterfall? We have three trips leaving throughout the day. There is basically never a shortage of amazing things to do. Being the crazy, out of this world adventurers that we are, we chose to go kayaking up a river to a waterfall. Yaaaaaaaaaaawwwn...Okay, so it lacks the adrenaline thrills of hurling yourself into a vast blue nothingness, but it was a nice day and I love kayaking.

See, I love this!








After about an hour and a half of kayaking up a very peaceful river, we hit a snag. Specifically, the bottom of the river seemed to stop, forming a sort of "shore" area where we had to get out. I was nonplussed as I wanted to kayak more and waved my paddle about in a very bird-like expression of frustration. Upon being informed that our next plan of action was an hour long hike to a waterfall, I shut my beak and started walking.

The path to follow led over and around a number of, shall we say "obstacles" that we found some unique ways to overcome.



The theme of the day was "Norm should try this first"








We, being the smart budget travelers that we were, had brought along a lunch. Then we spent about 3 hours climbing over the rocks, falls and various other craggy nonsense that prevailed all over the area.


Far too cool for school











I was feeling adventurous, and stupid. 50 foot drop into rocky water below.











All the cool kids stand on logs.







That night, it was onto a place called Wildside, which, in addition to being a very interesting place to hang out, boasted a patio that was actually the beach, and a surf culture that I was to find out was very much the norm (excuse the self-referential material there) for the rest of the trip. Also, after being "accidentally" smacked in the head with a pool cue by none other than the owner herself, I was informed that my tab was "on the house." I immediately proceeded to buy up all of the candy bars behind the bar and retired to my room to gobble down my delicious horde.

Bathroom wall at Wildside

Okay, it didn't quite happen like that. I took about 8 candy bars and ate them over 2 days. I left a few there. And I didn't gobble, I savored.

Day 3

Most people drive over tall bridges and marvel at their construction, at how magnificent are the gorges and trees and fauna that occur under them and then return their gaze to the road or a book etc. Menno does not do this. When Menno passes over a high bridge, his first thought is "I wonder if I can jump off of that." In his life, the answer has more often been yes than no.

So we found ourselves on this third of travel days driving to an establishment that promised the "highest bungee jump on earth." As Menno has jumped at the third highest, second highest, and the place where the first insane Kiwi (New Zealander) strapped some cables together and told his friends that they could have his VHS collection if he didn't come back, this was something like a pilgrimage for him. So after walking around the bridge in a circle three times and sacrificing a goat, he hooked up his cable and off he went.


See the tiiiiiiiiiny speck there falling? That's Menno







I now regret not following him, however if regrets were M&M's then I would have too many of them and I...ummm... would start mixing metaphors ...hmmm...moving on

Day 4

Oh so much driving. I had heard before arriving that South Africa has the most dangerous roads on Earth, and up until this point, we had had no reason to doubt that, though nothing had really proven it either. This all changed on Day 4. About 3 hours into our drive, we came upon a huge line of cars on the N2 (main Southern highway). After several minutes of stop/start driving, much shouting and cursing, we were informed that there was a large accident ahead, and that noone would be allowed through. For at least 8 hours.

Whoa.

As is turns out, this was an accident involving an undetermined number of cars, and at least 12 people dead. We had been hurtling along, merrily joking about the close calls that we routinely had and never really thinking much about how truly bad even a minor accident could become here. In South Africa, people use the lane dividers, shoulders and painted lines more as gentle suggestions as opposed to say, laws.

It set a somber mood for the next little bit of adventure we had to undergo. With the urging of the three cars in front of us (which all, incidentally, were SUV's) we decided to follow them on a route that would detour around the accident. This would have been no problem if we were in an SUV. Or maybe if we had been in a car with power steering, or maybe one where you could keep the windows up without suffocating so that the dust swirling outside and obscuring the 10 feet in front of you didn't choke you. Maybe all of that...but then again...not. So I found myself driving our little tank of a car through off-road trails, around narrow passes, and all the time trying to dodge the semi-trailer trucks that were coming from the other side and had been diverted the same route albeit going the other way. Driving in a field is not so hard after the third or fourth time.

The destination of our journey this day as a place several hundred kilometers inland from the coast known as "Hogsback." It took exactly one sentence to convince me to go:

Dave: It's the place where J.R.R. Tolkien got his inspiration for the...Lord..of..Norm?

Norm: (already in the car, honking the horn) Lets go, lets go, lets go!!! Hobbits!

So we were on our way there, and then we got there.

(Editor's note: many things happened on the drive there including nearly hitting a cows...about 6 times, dangerous mountain driving etc., however Norman is of the mind that he has already described enough of the actual driving that a further description would bore you, gentle reader. Therefore, to simulate the experience of getting to Hogsback, please do the following; 1. make that sound with your mouth that you make when you're pretending that you're shifting gears a lot in a car and 2. scream, gasp and bug out your eyes inbetween making the shifting-gears noise. That pretty much covers it.)

So we arrive in Hogsback and you can immediately see how Tolkien was inspired to create Middle Earth, particularly the areas where the Hobbits live (Hobbiton etc.). It is as green and lush as any place you can imagine, there are narrow winding footpaths, that lead to a series of waterfalls, the most spectacular being the Madonna and Child falls.




Madonna and Child Falls

There are tiny inn's and a backpackers hostel called "away with the fairies." It is a quaint, quiet place that an imaginative mind could easily use as fertile soil to create a world like ours, but with its own people and religions and customs.

And Orcs. Lots of Orcs. Dirty, filthy Orcs.

By the by, the Hogsbacks got their name by being a mountain range that looks like the back of a Hog. Just like Table Mountain, some people get really creative when they name topography.

We spent the night at a place called "Buccaneers" which was excellent, and about which I have nothing remotely interesting to say. Oh, except that dinner was good, they had candles and stuff.

Days 5 & 6

Coffee Bay is about as out-of-the-way as a place can get. It has a well deserved reputation as being a great "chill spot" and also is well known for its surfing. In an alarming and potentially life altering decision, we elected to stay not just our customary one night, but a whopping two nights at the "Coffee Shack." This decision was based on our having been on the move for 5 straight days, coupled with my need to get my clothes dry (I seriously doubt if they even have a word for "dryer" in Afrikaans other than "Sunshine") and Dave's need to break in his new surfboard.

On the second day there, Menno and I went on a guided hike out to a place called "hole in the wall". Our guide, though seemingly knowledgable about everything under the sun (literally) as we walked, neglected to ever tell us anything about what we were hiking to see. Therefore, I have a lovely picture for you and nothing else to go with it.



Hole in the Wall: The African Creative Naming Commission at work again






The rest of the views were wonderful as well.













Cow nude beach






I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge the women that we met/saw in Africa, and for now I'll just speak about those in Coffee Bay. In short, they are incredible. As the picture below shows, they can carry a bucket full of mussels up a nearly sheer cliff (one which I, with the aid of hiking boots, a hat, water, a lightweight shirt and shorts and sunglasses) on their heads, barefoot, and several of whom had babies slung around behind them. They would then walk approximately 3km to their home where they would finish their washing, and begin the trek to get water to boil the mussels in. Everywhere that we went I got big smiles and deferential treatment, which I always tried to return, from the women that I met. When I was handwashing my clothes, two of the women at the Coffee Shack offered to help me, a service which they normally charge for (I politely declined). When we got lost, it was invariably the women who would give us honest directions. This is not meant to denigrate the many men we met who were helpful, cheerful and equally impressive in any number of areas, however the amount of strength and at the same time, pitifully low social standing of the women I felt demands some recognition.



My estimation: each basket weighed between 20-28 pounds







Of course, the condition and standing of women in Africa has been so much more competently covered by literally hundreds of other authors that I feel almost guilty writing such a bland, uninformed statement like the one above. Nonetheless, while actually present as a witness, it is something which can not fail to make an impression on anyone (in my opinion).

Day 7

We left Coffee Bay and made our way to Port St. Johns. The hostel, Jungle Monkey was quiet, until I found a drum set, the first one that I had seen since I left home. I spent the entire time that I was there jamming with the resident chef, a guy named Steve and we put on an impromptu performance for all 5 guests of the hostel until the bartender turned the lights off on me...

Which seems a fitting end to the tale of my road trip with Dave and Menno in South Africa. I made it to Durban the next day, onto a bus to Jo'burg, then onto a flight and on to India, which will be the subject of the next post.