Sunday 13 May 2007
Graskop
I've been spending a few days in Graskop, in Mpumalanga province. At somewhere over 1400 m altitude, the nights are cold, while the fierce sun and fresh air make the days very pleasant. If you are ever in this area, I can't recommend Valley View Backpackers enough. It rocks! ... in a quiet sort of a way.
The very amenable Dutch owner, Edwin, picked up from Nelspruit, stopped at scenic viewpoints on the way and made me feel very at home. Which was just as well as I was the only guest here that night - although two cats kept me company on and off as they jumped in through the dorm windows. I had time for a late lunch at the famous (and highly recommended) Harrie's pancakes, followed by a lazy evening.
The next day Edwin led me off on a mountain bike trail which showed me how unfit I've become. It was quite a nice trail and took in the delightful Forest Falls, where we downgraded from the proposed swim to a sit with our feet in the water. After visiting the higher but less scenic Mac-Mac Falls (named after the profusion of Scottish gold prospectors in the region) we got to a pub where I was invited to soak up some true South African culture - an afternoon of rugby and beer. We tried to avoid too much of the beer, although the free glasses of punch seemed to be somewhat compulsory, being thrust into your hand by a barman who expected you to empty the glass sharpish so that he could refill it for the next victim. Luckily the way back was not as hilly as the route there, or maybe the alcohol had numbed me to the pain.
I can now answer my own earlier question about South African men - they don't all look as if they're about to leap onto a rugby pitch - mostly they look like Australian beer-swilling blokes, or possibly British beer-bellied bar bores. Although they do seem to like wearing very short shorts. I obviously just got lucky! And I'm only talking physique here, not personality. But while I'm taking back previous thoughts - I will definitely take back what I said about South African accents - I rather like the sound. At least, men's accents. It doesn't seem to work so well at a higher pitch.
Today I took a gentle walk on the "Jock of the Bushveld" trail. This Jock appears to be some sort of a local Greyfriar's Bobby, though I don't think he sat around any graveyards. It was a nice stroll, through long grass and between lots of strangely-shaped rocky outcrops. From the top of the escarpment there were big but not very exciting views of miles and miles of forestery plantations. In the other direction were more appealing views of some rather Pentland-like hills, and beyond them in the haze layer after layer of hills faded from blue-black to white-blue as they receded. Of course there were also some dramatic views down from the occasional precipice, into the straight-sided gorge below.
This is a great spot and I reckon I might be back - so much more still to explore.
The very amenable Dutch owner, Edwin, picked up from Nelspruit, stopped at scenic viewpoints on the way and made me feel very at home. Which was just as well as I was the only guest here that night - although two cats kept me company on and off as they jumped in through the dorm windows. I had time for a late lunch at the famous (and highly recommended) Harrie's pancakes, followed by a lazy evening.
The next day Edwin led me off on a mountain bike trail which showed me how unfit I've become. It was quite a nice trail and took in the delightful Forest Falls, where we downgraded from the proposed swim to a sit with our feet in the water. After visiting the higher but less scenic Mac-Mac Falls (named after the profusion of Scottish gold prospectors in the region) we got to a pub where I was invited to soak up some true South African culture - an afternoon of rugby and beer. We tried to avoid too much of the beer, although the free glasses of punch seemed to be somewhat compulsory, being thrust into your hand by a barman who expected you to empty the glass sharpish so that he could refill it for the next victim. Luckily the way back was not as hilly as the route there, or maybe the alcohol had numbed me to the pain.
I can now answer my own earlier question about South African men - they don't all look as if they're about to leap onto a rugby pitch - mostly they look like Australian beer-swilling blokes, or possibly British beer-bellied bar bores. Although they do seem to like wearing very short shorts. I obviously just got lucky! And I'm only talking physique here, not personality. But while I'm taking back previous thoughts - I will definitely take back what I said about South African accents - I rather like the sound. At least, men's accents. It doesn't seem to work so well at a higher pitch.
Today I took a gentle walk on the "Jock of the Bushveld" trail. This Jock appears to be some sort of a local Greyfriar's Bobby, though I don't think he sat around any graveyards. It was a nice stroll, through long grass and between lots of strangely-shaped rocky outcrops. From the top of the escarpment there were big but not very exciting views of miles and miles of forestery plantations. In the other direction were more appealing views of some rather Pentland-like hills, and beyond them in the haze layer after layer of hills faded from blue-black to white-blue as they receded. Of course there were also some dramatic views down from the occasional precipice, into the straight-sided gorge below.
This is a great spot and I reckon I might be back - so much more still to explore.
Thursday 10 May 2007
Johannesburg
As the truck headed off towards Namibia, Mckenzie and I were left in Maun, having ended our trips. We were whisked off to the airport and flown on a nice little 16 seater to Jo'burg. Chris had organized a pick up and hostel, so soon were were settled in to the odd and rambling "Backpackers' Ritz". It was a strange, deserted feeling place, even when it was full. Situated in some squeaky-clean northern suburb, I felt as if I'd left Africa. The wide leafy streets bathed in hot autumn sunshine reminded me of Australia. The malls could have been in KL, but populated by the mix of people you'd find in London.
It was good to have a chance to shop for boring essentials and to see a movie (The History Boys - I'd recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it), and of course to eat some excellent meals and sleep in a real bed. But I could have been anywhere.
Found a travel clinic where I saw the very expensive Dr Saner - shouldn't he have been a psychiatrist? - for a restock of deadly anti-malarials. Also showed him my legs which appeared to be being colonized by a rampant infestation of ringworm. See how much fun you can have a big city?
Went on a tour of Soweto, which was very interesting. Our guide Max was vigourous in his views, cheerful and positive in his outlook. Soweto looked on this sunny morning like a pleasant suburb full of smiling happy people. Even the squatter houses didn't look too bad - better than sqatter camps in Malaysia. Some parts were very well kept - apparently Soweto is home to a number of millionaires, and now that people own their homes, they are well looked after and improvements are being made. The population is still growing and building has yet to catch up. We hopped out of the van a few times for a look around and also spent some time at the Hector Pieterson museum. This gave a really good insight into the 1976 uprising. We also took a quick look at Mandela's and Tutu's houses (the latter a big place with lots of security). It was hard to believe, looking at Soweto, that it would be in the least bit dodgy to go and wander there on your own.
The next day, one of the guys from the hostel was mugged downtown. Seems he'd had a pretty grim experience, being strangled while another man held a knife in his face. A third man removed all his possessions. Eventually the French guy passed out and woke up on the pavement. All this while surrounded by hundreds of pedestrians and hawkers. As he bemoaned the loss of his lonely planet guide, I couldn't help thinking it might have been wise to have read it before setting off. He was in a real no-no zone, looking like a perfect tourist, right down to the "been there, done that" stickers on his daypack. Still, felt very sorry for him. I know it could happen to me too, and though I like to think I'd be more careful, there's still a lot of luck involved. Hey ho for Jo'burg!
Am now in sunny Nelspruit, on my way to Graskop. Have gone back and added photos to parts of the blog. Will try at least one more post before the course, then will leave you in peace for a while as the camp has no electricity.
Saturday 5 May 2007
Okavango Delta
From Chobe to Maun was a longish and not very interesting drive. We camped near Maun - a cold night - before setting off by dugout canoe into the Okavango Delta. Here the Okavango river disperses five and a bit parts and hundreds of narrow channels. Little, if any, of the water flows on from here.
We were poled along in our canoes by local guides, following narrow channels between tall reeds. We set up camp near a small pool, and happily whiled away a couple of days. We went on a short walk on the first evening and a longer one the following morning. There were hippos and elephants, a couple of zebra and some antelope. I spotted a small snake which turned out to be a baby puff adder. It was an idyllic bushcamp, with nothing to do except sit around the fire, swim in the very refreshing water, or take a canoe for a punt. As the sun set a huge full moon rose on the opposite horizon.
I love the bushcamping. The simplicity of life. Using river water to wash and wash up. Having to strain water for tea through a shirt because it's so full of ash and bits of firewood...
Went for an exploratory canoe trip with Nick. Enjoyed punting us along, but enjoyed even more lying back in the canoe while he poled us back. Standing bare-chested in the stern, outlined by a perfect blue sky, he was quite the vision of youthful loveliness. Aah... Even better was his charming company. And don't worry - I'm not lusting after the dear young boy. Everytime it got too hot in the sun, we jumped into the water for a bracing cool-off. Back at camp, an elephant mooched about by our toilet hole.
The second evening, our guides took us for a "sunset cruise", which turned out to be a brief ride to a nice sunset viewing spot. Predictably, and prettily, the sun set. For the first time since arriving in Africa, mosquitoes came out to feed on me - so finally I hope to have got some use from my hundred pounds' worth of psychosis-inducing drugs.
We were poled along in our canoes by local guides, following narrow channels between tall reeds. We set up camp near a small pool, and happily whiled away a couple of days. We went on a short walk on the first evening and a longer one the following morning. There were hippos and elephants, a couple of zebra and some antelope. I spotted a small snake which turned out to be a baby puff adder. It was an idyllic bushcamp, with nothing to do except sit around the fire, swim in the very refreshing water, or take a canoe for a punt. As the sun set a huge full moon rose on the opposite horizon.
I love the bushcamping. The simplicity of life. Using river water to wash and wash up. Having to strain water for tea through a shirt because it's so full of ash and bits of firewood...
Went for an exploratory canoe trip with Nick. Enjoyed punting us along, but enjoyed even more lying back in the canoe while he poled us back. Standing bare-chested in the stern, outlined by a perfect blue sky, he was quite the vision of youthful loveliness. Aah... Even better was his charming company. And don't worry - I'm not lusting after the dear young boy. Everytime it got too hot in the sun, we jumped into the water for a bracing cool-off. Back at camp, an elephant mooched about by our toilet hole.
The second evening, our guides took us for a "sunset cruise", which turned out to be a brief ride to a nice sunset viewing spot. Predictably, and prettily, the sun set. For the first time since arriving in Africa, mosquitoes came out to feed on me - so finally I hope to have got some use from my hundred pounds' worth of psychosis-inducing drugs.
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