July 31st 1998: We’re at Augrabies Falls
We have just completed a gruelling 5 k walk in the desert, midst magnificent scenery and in equally magnificent weather, and sitting here supping an ice-cold castle one feels that it would be wonderful to lead the life of a pioneer a couple of hundred years ago…. with one or two minor modifications of course.
Our departure Durban was delayed a few days by Landy trouble. The day prior to our planned departure produced some peculiar groaning noises, and a strange pink liquid pouring out from the vehicle’s forward section. Sean is becoming quite technical these days and has learnt to differentiate between oil, diesel, water, and hydraulic fluid. This was the latter so off post haste to F*******s . Diagnosis – a blown seal in the power steering box, which would probably mean a new box at a cost of R 12000 and – wait for it – 10 days to supply the part. Words were spoken….. they were quite loud and not always polite, but to cut a long story short, after getting some advice from our learned pal Rick (in order to appear to have a grasp of the technicalities, and for which, Rick, many thanks), Sean managed to negotiate 2 days for the job and Land Rover picking up 75% of the cost.
So off we headed to Base Camp Glengarry to pick up the caravan – and a rubber snake that Rose had organized, and thence left for Kokstad in the middle of the Springbok/Wallaby game, which we listened to the radio – not conducive to good driving, particularly the last 5 minutes.
The least said about our overnight stop at the Kokstad caravan park the better. There is no need to put it on your “Places to Visit” list …. ….. Unless of course, you’re a Twitcher. Kokstad caravan park is the home of the rare Nocturnal Rutting Rooster (Roberts Number 1211), which was recently brought to the public notice by the Nando’s adverts. Every Hour, on the Hour, all through the Bloody night!!!!
Our drive through the Transkei, although bleary-eyed, was very pleasant. The road is not bad at all. There are plenty of domestic animals, but they tend to keep out of the way (unlike the Kamikazi Goats we met outside Bulwer), and although, like most places, it may not be wise to drive through at night, there is really no need to avoid this route.
We arrived at East London on Sunday afternoon and set up camp on the Contardo’s front lawn (it added an element of class to the neighbourhood). The van had a clearance of one thousandth of an inch on each side getting through the front gate, which tested our driving skills a little (when we left it tested our driving skills a lot !!).
Our week in East London was most pleasant. We had a chance to see Jean’s family and visit Grahamstown and Port Alfred. Son Michael M passed by on the “Helderberg” on Thursday evening. We drove to the hill behind O’Hagan’s Bar (Michael needed a landmark that he could recognise), and waved and flashed lights – much to the consternation of the couple walking their dog next to us. “Helderberg” passed 4 miles off. Sean doesn’t wish to belabour the point, but he remembers the time when seamen were seamen, that half a mile off was considered chicken. In defence of the modern wimp however, that was about the time that the “Horizon” and the “S.A.Seafarer” found their way up the beach.
The Contardo family at Kidds Beach
(No, it’s not Freddy Mercury – it’s Enrico Contardo.)
On Monday 27th we packed up and, with the help of Allison and the Municipal plumbers (there to fix next door’s sewer), we managed to squeeeeeze out of the Contardo gates and set off for Queenstown.
Our idea was to spend the night in Queenstown and take a look at Jean’s old Alma Mater, G.H.S. Trouble was, we couldn’t find it – not Queenstown, the school, so we headed on to Tarkastad. Tarkastad had closed their caravan park so on we trundled to Cradock. Life may not be structured, but it’s interesting.
Cradock is a very pleasant little town and we stayed two days at the Cradock Spa (R44 per night). The site itself was quite ordinary but it was equipped with a heated swimming pool and ablutes to equal the Royal Hotel. One small drawback with the heated pool was that the water was tepid and it was a Sulphur spring. Smelt like a rugby club after a baked bean lunch. Whilst there we went off to the Mountain Zebra National Park, where we saw some, …. Mountain Zebra … a long way off. The scenery on the other hand was impressive. We also did the cultural bit and visited Olive Schreiner’s old house – fascinating. Houses in those days were really, very small.
Cradock Town Hall
B and B in Craddock Built 1906
As you all know it rarely rains in the Karoo – except when the Minogues are breaking camp, which it has managed to do twice. At Cradock insult was added to injury by the rainwater on the awning freezing.
From Cradock we drove on through the Karoo and stopped for lunch at De Aar. Now, a dear and valued friend of ours, Norma Smith (nee Harris), once lived in De Aar and it is a place that we have always wanted to visit. Because Norma is such a good friend we won’t say much more about this thriving metropolis, other than to say that we understand why she joined up with General Booth’s bunch – obviously for the night life. Lunch wasn’t too bad, though.
Sheep farm in the Karoo
Onward we went, through vast tracts of scrubland with the odd sheep here and there. It sounds boring but it wasn’t at all, and we can certainly understand why people find the Karoo so intriguing. We ended up at Prieska where we planned to spend the night at a caravan park called “Die Bos” which had a glowing report in our Caravan Park Guidebook. First rude awakening to the fact that we are now into “the interior” is that they did not “Engels Praat”. Sean’s Afrikaans is definitely “nie so goed nie” and trying to get directions in “nie so goed nie” Afrikaans on a cell phone is a daunting prospect. Luckily, Jean has been hiding her light under a bushel, her taal is pretty good and with the help of her old school (the one she couldn’t find) dictionary, we are doing alright.
In any event, we found “Die Bos” which was down a number of dirt roads in a stand of Gum trees somewhere near the banks of the Orange river. The songs of the birds blended with the gentle rustlings of plastic bags and the rhythmic chuckling of empty beer cans rolling against discarded paper plates. —– The contributor to the guidebook is a bigger liar than Sean is—– Yet another one for the “never again” list.
Next day dawned – raining – and we left in haste for points North. The road was still fascinating, scrub and semi desert. Very little traffic on the roads and huge social weavers’ nests like inverted haystacks hanging from the telephone poles. It stayed like that until the junction at Groblershoop, when we met up with the Upington/Kimberley traffic. We then started to run along the southern bank of the Orange River again and the area became populated. Small villages and smallholdings and lots and lots of vines.
Social Weavers’ nest
Suddenly, out of the blue, we passed a sign. Did that say “Wine Route”? We were on the Oranjerivier Wine Route. You live and learn! Right. The next wynkelder we pass, we go visiting. “There’s one” says Jean “Where?”
“Back there” and so it went on. Every damn sign seemed to be strategically placed behind a rock or a tree, only to be seen in the rear-view mirror, and U turns with a Landy and caravan on a country road are not easy. We eventually tracked one down at Kakamas and loaded up with the necessary, including a bottle of Old Brown to keep Jean warm in the desert. This inexplicably changed from one bottle ordered by Sean to a small case. Ho Ho Ho!!
As we passed through Upington we headed west along the north bank of the Orange. The area here is mainly made up of fruit farms raisins, sultanas, dates etc. The area is fairly affluent and well kept – nice place to stay over (provided you have an Afrikaans dictionary).
We drove through Keimoes and Kakamas and then turned up to Augrabies where we arrived last night. This place is really very nice. It works out at R 44 per night with electricity. The facilities are very pleasant. Lots of space, 3 swimming pools (not that we are too keen on swimming at this time of year you understand), and truly stunning scenery.
Jean overlooking the falls.
Augrabies Falls
Augrabies Gorge
The last evening in Augrabies when we were braaing our wors supper we noticed a strange looking dog wandering towards us. It got closer and we saw that it had strange pointy ears. Not a dog at all - a caracal (rooikat) renowned for their ferocity... Thankfully this one (he didn't introduce himself so we will call him Charlie) was totally unaware of his reputation and very friendly. He visited us a few times - usually when food was in the offing - and even helped with the washing up. The management is trying to rewild him but it was really not working. Charlie tried several times to stalk the local dassies and at one time hiding behind Sean's legs - to no avail - other than giving the dassies something to laugh about.
Charlie in stalking mode
Dassies giving Charlie the bird
We stay here for a couple of days, then on to Pofadder (another long-term dream). Wonder if they know the joke about the man counting the bubbles in the bath?
After that we move into Namibia through Onseepkans (No Chance for Soap – amazing) and on to Ai Ais – we think. But who knows?