Mo's African Adventure

I spent an amazing day in Laerskool Olifantsvallei, a primary school located in Citrusdal.

Citrusdal is a largely black, coloured and Afrikaans community about 30 minutes south of Gecko Creek. It is a farming community, mostly Oranges and Lemons, with a large (by African standards) fruit processing plant. There is a very high population of coloureds and blacks who work on the farms and in the processing plant and shops and services in town.

This school was different than the two schools that I go into in Clanwilliam in that the classrooms are mixed with white and coloured students together. Although the blacks still have their own primary school here, even the coming together of coloureds and whites is noteworthy at this school.

All instruction in this school is given in Afrikaans even though English is the language that the country now recognizes as the language which instruction should be given in. To understand this contradiction you must understand a little bit about the culture in this area of South Africa.

The northern part of the Western Cape (the province I am in) contains an extremely high population of traditional Afrikaners. These are the people who control most of the wealth here, and consequently, the “power”. They are staunchly Afrikaans and their traditions and their culture are unquestioned here. In fact, although almost everyone here can speak English, they laughingly say that they speak English only in self defense. Having said all of this, they are a wonderful, friendly, industrious and amazing group of people. I consider myself very fortunate to be invited into their circles to the extent that I am.

Getting back to the school, while the children receive some instruction in English, it is taught in this school as a subject, much as we teach French as a Second Language. The lesson was almost exactly the same as a lesson we would have in our English lessons with a writing piece that had been read on several days, discussed in class and to which the children would now prepare a response. Care was given to apply all steps of the writing process exactly as we would instruct the children to do in our classrooms. For the most part I have found that when people do speak English here it is much “better” English than we speak at home. Although it is heavily accented, it retains the formality and grammatical correctness that we so easily give up as we slide into our slangs and colloquialisms. This is further emphasized by the impeccable manners with which people address each other.

I must say that listening to en entire day in Afrikaans certainly tested my meager understanding of the language. I usually could grasp the topic that was being discussed but not what was being said about it. For example I could tell that they were speaking about the inter-school sports day but I did not know what they were saying about it, or in the staff room I could tell that they were talking about the Braii on the weekend but again, who knows what they were saying. Fortunately, my new friends at the school took pity on me and switched the staffroom conversation to English and they had good fun laughing at this foreigner struggling to decipher their beautiful language.

Again I cannot tell you how beautiful and respectful children are here. They sit in rows and receive instruction from the front of the classroom, get down to it and do their seat work and are deeply respectful of their teacher.

A little something that I found interesting was that I had noticed that each time a child came up to the teacher’s desk to ask her a question, they would gently scratch her back as they spoke with her. I asked her why they did that and she said that the children liked to do it and it is considered a sign of affection for a child to do this. I was quite touched when as the day progressed the children began to scratch me on the back too as I interacted with them.

Another remarkable experience and the more schools I visit I am again struck by the uniqueness of the culture of each. Still, the level of instruction remains good and the respectfulness of the children makes for a very productive day at school.

At the end of the day, each of the children greeted me as they left the classrooms with phrases such as: “You must have a good evening further Madam,” “I will keep you in my prayers Mafrou,” and “Thank you for teaching me today teacher.”

How can you not love these children ???

Gecko Creek Wilderness Lodge is what is called in South Africa, a self-catering camp. It is a wonderfully eclectic collection of cabins, permanent tents and safari tents that people may rent or they can come with their own tents or camper vans. It is a collection of buildings nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains and it is without a doubt one of the most tranquil places on earth.

When you first arrive, the first structure you will notice is the Lapa, a beautiful octagonal open-air building which houses gas cookers, refrigerators, pots and pans, plates, dishes, cutlery, utensils … in short everything you need to prepare meals. Guests bring their own food and prepare their own meals which may also be eaten at the tables in the Lapa. it is wonderful to watch, smell and chat as visitors from all over the world prepare wonderful dishes and the banter is always lively as rich aromas waft from pots simmering gently on the stoves.

In the evening, guests often gather in the “Boma”. This circular structure is basically a high, circular fence built out of vertical sticks. The word “Boma” means stockade and one of its traditional uses is to enclose animals. In the centre of the Boma is a fire pit, around which guests laze in comfortable beanbag chairs under the magnificent South African night sky. You have not experienced darkness until you have been here. Even the spectacular Milky Way and plethora of brilliant stars of the southern hemisphere strewn as far as the eye can see cannot penetrate the blackness of the cloak of darkness here.

The Boma also houses the three “Braii”. To the uninitiated these may seem like merely Bar-B-Que pits … and they are … but to “Braii” in South Africa is more than just to throw some burgers on an open flame. It is an entire epicurean, social and cultural event. Where to start … To begin with, food prepared on the Braii expands far beyond what you can even imagine. Every kind of meat can be and is prepared on the Braii. Vegetables as well either on the open flame or in a potjie (3 legged black pot cooked in the embers of the Braii or open fire), rolls, bread … you name it, these people have mastered cooking it on the open flame.

Traditionally it is the men who do the Braiing and they are wonderful at it. It is as much a social event as it is cooking with the men gathering round, joking and chatting as the Braii coals are readied and the meal is leisurely prepared. Nothing is rushed and it takes hours to prepare, enjoy and participate in a Braii. The men have an extremely good sense of humour and are terrible pranksters and the cajoling, insulting, bantering and teasing that goes on is merciless.

You cannot imagine the amount of food that is prepared at the braii and if you’re lucky there will be leftovers to be eaten up the next day.

While this is a wilderness camp, the facilities here are absolutely stunning and provide just the right balance between “roughing it” and “creature comforts”. With this in mind, the solar heated showers housed in the beautiful ceramic tiled washrooms provide a welcome touch of civility to the wild experience.

Life at the camp is very peaceful and tranquil and visitors come and go as they please but as with any business, the responsibilities associated with running the camp are quite onerous. The opportunistic nature of crime in South Africa means that someone must always be in the camp to ensure that nothing walks off. The responsibility of being here for the telephone, responding to enquiries, taking bookings, keeping the facilities tidy and in good repair, and being present to greet and help new guests settle in, means that it is difficult if not impossible for management to get a break away.

Usually there are two people here managing the camp but my friend Ingrid took ill about 3 months ago and has had to stay in Cape Town for medical reasons. This has meant that John has been abandoned to run the camp on his own for the last several months. As wonderful as this place is, you can imagine that not being able to have a break can be quite exhausting and even more than that, quite isolating.

During my stay here, I have encouraged John to get away for a few days here and there to give him a break before I have to leave. Most weeks I have gone to Cape Town for a few days during the week and then when I have come back John has headed off for a weekend with his chums after giving me a crash course on the basics of camp life.

True to this routine, I arrived back from Cape Town a week ago Thursday and John headed out on Friday. He had made an appointment to have his “bakkie” (truck) looked at in Cape Town as he was having some trouble with it. As I stopped in at the main house to check in with him just before he was leaving, he was going over his mental checklist of things he had with him … keys, licence, passport … Passport? Hey wait a minute. Passport? “What the heck do you need your passport for,” I joked. “You’re not planning on skipping the country on me, are you?”

Despite his good natured assurances that it was just in case he needed it for identification, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since and that was over a week ago! Hmmmm….

John? John? Are you out there John?

Thursday saw me return to Cape Town for a few days with my friend there. Cape Town is an amazing city full of culture and diversity. You can see or do just about anything you could imagine there and tonight, Kat had a treat in store for me.

Ingrid and I met Kat at her work which is near the Capetown waterfront. She had had a hectic day and was ready to get out of the office and enjoy her evening. And enjoy it we did.

Tonight’s adventure began in an converted warehouse not too far from Kat’s work. As we pulled up, I wasn’t too sure what we were in for as from the outside it didn’t look like much but once we walked through the front doors the magic began.

Gold is one of Cape Town’s finest dining experiences. You are met at the door by absolutely beautiful African women wearing traditional dress. The decor is stunning. Exposed brick, beautiful earth tones and the bright vibrant colours of the African people are everywhere. As you are shown to your table, a joyful waiter delights you with his sing-song banter as he brings you a sherry to begin your evening’s taste experience.

Gold offers you an amazing adventure in African and Cape Malay cooking. You do not order off the menu but rather enjoy very small samplings of traditional foods from around the continent. For starters, Spiced Tomato Soup (actually an Indian dish but remember there is a strong Indian influence here) accompanied by Xhosu Pot Bread. These dense, white rolls are delicious, particularly spread with the South African Billtong (dried meat) Dip they are served with.

Next, Moroccan Prawn Briquats and Cape Malay Pea and Potato Samoosas. Both pastry wrapped parcels are absolutely delicious!

A tasting of Kalahari Venison Pie (a venison stew made from Springbok smothered in a rich, spicy broth) followed. Absolutely to die for.

The main course of Moroccan Chicken Tagine, Creamy Pap (traditional corn meal) with corn, Manzanian Mchicha Wa’Nazi (spinach in a creamy peanut sauce – fab!) and Malay Lentil Dhal, was absolutely delicious. I was not particularly keen on the lentils but everything else was exceptional.

After all of this food it was hard to imagine that one could find room for dessert but once you have tried South African Mulva Pudding with custard you can never pass it up. This dark sweet treat is one that I will definitely be making at home!

Finally, Karamonk Biscuits. These light and sugary crisp cookies are flavoured with Cardamon and Orange Zest. A nice light nibble to end this feeding frenzy.

While it has taken me a little while to go over the menu, eating is only part of the experience at Gold. Before you begin your meal, you are taken to a large room where an African drum master teaches you to play the Djembe drum. These colourful drums rest on the floor and are held between your knees. Your instructor patiently leads you through a few quick lessons and then lays out rhythms and beats for you to follow. It is great fun and surprisingly exhausting. When you begin you are rigid and stiff but as fatigue sets in it actually helps to loosen up your hands and makes the drumming easier. We were all quite “chuffed” with ourselves by the end of the drumming session but we were soon reminded of our novice status as we were delighted with a display of real African drumming by the drum master.

Throughout your evening meal, ladies in traditional African attire circulate through the restaurant singing the stories of the African people and dancing as only the African’s can. It is absolutely riveting and you can’t help but marvel at the rhythm and grace these people are innately born with. I must have looked like I was enjoying the show (which I was) as one of the ladies grabbed me by the hand and pulled me up onto the dance floor, showing me how to follow her as she danced and sang. Great fun! I am sure it was quite a site to see a pasty, white, 50 year old trying to keep up to these lithe young things.

As the song says, “Oh what a night!” It was a fabulous evening shared with good friends and of course fine wine. An unforgettable experience.

Sunday was again a beautiful day and I took advantage of the weather by exploring the back half of the Gecko Creek property. The recent rains have meant that water is running freely off of the mountains and the guests and I had been hearing the sound of running water from the cottage and the cabins. There was no apparent stream to be seen so, of course, that meant an excuse to go exploring.

Although the Fynbos is considered low vegatation, it can be very dense and tangly stuff. John and John (who work here) have been busy clearing underbrush so the area in front of the cottage was fairly open and easy to traverse. It wasn’t too long before I came upon a stream of water about a metre wide flowing off of the mountain that is called Baboon Ridge. I was surprised at the volume of water that was cascading down and even now I am not sure where it ends up although I am sure it eventually makes its way down to the Oliphant’s River. Of greater interest to me was were did it come from?

I strated up the hillside to see if I could track down the source of the water. Because of the density of the underbrush, I had to weave my way away from the watercourse to get some elevation and by the time I made my way back over to the area I realized that I had actually overshot and come out above the source of the water. As curious as I was to find the source, it seemed a waste to climb back down without going higher to first explore the ridge itself.

Up until this point, the steady climb had been on sandy soil through fairly dense underbrush. Soon, however, the gentle slope gave way to squared off rock faces about a metre in height. There were lots of cracks and crevises as well as many rock falls which meant foot and handholds were plentiful. There was no difficulty maintaining your climb as there were so many alternate routes to use if one didn’t pan out. After about half an hour of steady climbing, I crested what from the camp looks like the summit of the ridge but in fact, there was a lot of height still ahead that you couldn’t even see from the ground. As I pushed back through the scruby underbrush, I was soon looking across the valley to the other side and the camp had completely disappeared from view.

On top of the ridge there were two rock formations which tempted me with a 360 degree panorama. It was too appealing a prospect to pass up so, although I was tired and ill-prepared (I had not set out to climb so I had not brought any water, no hat, no sunscreen) I couldn’t resist climbing the smaller of the two formations, it also being the closer of the two.

The view from the top made the extra effort worthwhile. Looking down the backside of the ridge saw the mountain split into two separate ridges with a deep ravine between them. Looking across, you could see for miles down the N7 highway and across a vast expanse of mountain peaks to the south.

After surveying the countryside from my lofty perch I made my was back to the crest of the ridge. I wanted to see exactly where I was in relation to the camp and to yell down to my friends there. As I stood on the ledge at the top of the ridge I began to mentally map out my decent route which now seemed somewhat more difficult than the way up. Oh well. At least I wasn’t working against gravity any more.

The way down did indeed prove more challenging than the climb, surprisingly. I had deliberately skirted the largest part of the rock face as climbing down rock is harder than climbing up it. That seemed like a good plan however finding a viable route through the thick underbrush was at times challenging. Although it is winter and most snakes are dormant, they are still there and need to be respected. Although I saw and heard lots of evidence of baboons, rock dassies and diker (small deer) I was just as glad to not encounter any of the local wildlife as I made my was down to the bottom of the incline.

Quite by chance, as I crisscrossed my way down the hill, I came across not one but four water sources which were all feeding into the larger stream that I had seen further down the slope. It is amazing to see the speed that the water runs and you wonder where it is all coming from.

Eventually, the cottage was in view and I began to look forward to a nice, hot shower, along with the customary “tick check”. Ticks are common in the underbrush here and whenever you come in it is wise to check whether you have picked up any unwelcome hitchhikers. While many tick bites are harmless, some do carry diseases which need to be avoided if at all possible.

With the refreshing, hot spray of the shower revitalizing me I was feeling pleased with myself for having successfully ticked off another of my goals for this trip as Baboon Ridge had been on my “to do” list. My only regret was that because I hadn’t set out to climb it, I didn’t have my camera with me. So you will just have to take my word that I actually made it to the top. Two steps away from heaven!

After relaxing in the Cederberg, I was looking forward to a trip to Cape Town to spend time with Kat and Ingrid. The rainy week last week was the perfect excuse to put away my hiking boots and return to city life.

On Thursday morning I travelled the N7 to Cape Town. Usually I would have taken my time and visited the Farm Stalls along the way (roadside shops run by local farms with everything from fruit to jams to clothing). The rain today made me push on to Cape Town.

Being a weekday, my wonderful friend Katja was working so I spent the afternoon shopping at the Canal Walk. This huge shopping mall has every store that you can possibly imagine. When you are inside of it, you could be in any major city in the world. The mix of familiar (Woolworths, iStore, Kentucky Fried Chicken) and uniquely South African stores provides you with endless shopping opportunities and before the afternoon was over I somehow had added two pair of shoes to my wardrobe.

Things are generally less expensive here; however, it is the same as everywhere else. Price is relative to quality and the overhead of the store you are purchasing it in. I was pleased however that my two pair of shoes cost me about the same as one pair would cost me at home.

When Kat was done work she called me on the cell phone and we arranged a meeting place in the mall. It was so good to meet up with her again and we had great fun as we chatted and strolled along.

Eventually, Kat led us to a wonderful pasta restaurant where I ordered “Fughi Blanca” (pasta with assorted mushrooms in a white wine sauce) accompanied by a beer. I seldom choose beer but just had a notion for one and seeing as I want to experience everything I can here, it was a good opportunity to try a different selection.

As we sat and chatted the evening quickly slipped away. We made our way back to Kat & Rhino’s beautiful apartment in the gated “Century City” complex. This is a protected complex surrounded by high gates and you must check in with the security people at the gate to gain access.

A nightcap of “Grappa” accompanied by more good conversation and watching a video of one of Rhino’s safari tours, capped off a lovely evening and we happily retired to sleep.

Friday morning again dawned grey and drizzly but that did not dull my joy at seeing my precious friend Ingrid again. We met for breakfast at a little restaurant across the street from her daughter, Chou-chou’s apartment where I ordered bacon, eggs and ostrich sausage for breakfast. Soooooo good.

After a good chat over several cups of Rooibos Tea, we headed out for Hout Bay. This seaside suburb of Cape Town is nestled on the side of a mountain looking out over the Atlantic Ocean. Seals abound here and can be seen sunning themselves on the rocks or swimming lazily in the water. On my first trip to South Africa, I took the boat from here to Seal Island which lies just offshore. There hundreds of seas rest on a collection of tiny islands. It is quite site to see.

We enjoyed a cup of tea at the marina which has a lovely gift shop, and lunch of calimari and prawns on the wharf.

While the weather may have been cool and overcast, I was warmed by the pleasure of being in the company of this gentle and loving soul. She is truly a treasure. It is a rare friendship we have where one feels totally at ease to be absolutely yourself knowing that you are loved for exactly who you are. Such a very special thing.

Wednesday was a beautiful day. Sunny but cool with no sign of the rain clouds that had been with us for a couple of days. It was a perfect day for climbing!

After my usual morning walks and enjoying a cup of Roiibos tea with rusks on the lappa lawn in the sunshine, I grabbed by gear and set out on another adventure. Today it would be the Waterfall.

The Cederberg is a protected conservation area. To hike on the established trails here you purchase a pass at the Conservation Authority office. Today’s pass would cost me 60 Rand (approximately $6). After a lengthy chat with the staff in the office, I set out to climb the mountain.

The path up the mountain is well laid out. It is somewhat rocky with shale but is generally an easy climb. There are a few bits which require scrambling over boulders but all in all nothing too strenuous. The Conservation office had said that the climb to the Waterfall would take about an hour and a half but I am sure with all of my stops to investigate interesting plants, rocks and crevices, it took me a little longer than that. The path eventually came to a beautiful little waterfall, set deep in a crevice in the mountainside. A skirt around the rock face and a quick climb over an old boulder slide, revealed a beautiful grotto about mid-way down the Waterfall. Lush vegetation clung to the mountainside. Ferns and grasses, flowers and trees grew from tenuous footholds between rocks, nourished by the droplets of spray from the nearby water source. A beautiful tranquil pool of water collected to pause on its descent over the mountain and after the long, hot climb a quick dip was all too appealing. When I say a quick dip, I mean exactly that. As refreshing as it was, the water was ice cold. Still, I emerged feeling refreshed and invigorated and ready for more.

I had only planned on hiking the Waterfall but the mountain path still beckoned. Refreshed after my bracing swim, I couldn’t resist pushing onward to the summit.

The path meandered back and forth across the face of the mountain, ensuring that the incline was challenging but manageable. Scurrying over rocks, shimmying along rock faces and exploring caves and canyons filled the rest of my afternoon until I finally emerged on top of the mountain. There to my surprise, lay miles of fairly flat, grassy terrain. There is a system of trails here that traverse through the top of the mountains here and there are huts stationed along the way. Once up there, I was struck by how awesome it would have been to spend the night but it was a passing thought as I thought about how cold it gets at night here. Much as I love the outdoors, I love my creature comforts too. I think I will leave the true “roughing it” to those more dedicated that me.

Much as I would have loved to meander further, the sun was getting low in the sky and I knew that I would need to be careful to leave enough time for a safe descent in daylight. While hiking alone is amazing in many ways, it does mean that you have to be extra vigilant. I had left word at the camp and at the Conservation office of my route and plans but the reality is nobody is coming looking for you for a very long time if at all and a misstep or fall could be disastrous. Best to turn back in good time.

The descent, as always, proved faster than the accent but was just as spectacular. The lengthening shadows and amazing late afternoon sun created a new and fascinating landscape. The reds and browns and blacks of the rocks stood as blazing backdrops to the vibrant yellows, whites and oranges of the newly appearing winter flowers and the blackened stumps of trees left behind after a fire here several years ago.

Still, I was grateful to reach the little knoll of trees at the bottom of the valley known as the Algeria Campsite. A beautiful little camp nestled at the base of the mountain trail, it would be an amazing place to camp or even a beautiful spot just for a picnic. The river which I had watched surge over the rock face high on the mountain, had tamed to a gentle, meandering waterflow by the time it reached here and I paused by its peaceful banks to rest after the long trek. I could not daly too long there as I still had to navigate the mountain pass to get back to Gecko Creek. While the road is quite good and perfectly safe, it is not a road that you want to make a mistake on. Sheer drops would send you plummeting off the mountain face to certain death and I prefer always to traverse the pass in daylight. Reluctantly I tore myself away from this pastoral setting, weary but content after a day in the wilderness.

After a solid week of sunshine the locals here were very glad to see a day of rain. It is the rainy season but even so, rain is a scarce commodity and so necessary for sustainability here. Generally, one inch of rain a MONTH is considered good.

Sunday evening saw us sitting around the campfire in the Boma when the first spits of rain began to fall. Calling it an early evening we all turned in for a good night’s sleep. About 6:00 a.m. we awoke to thunder and lightening followed by a torrential downpour. Snuggled in my warm bed, I was quite content to stay there reading my book. It was a good day for a lazy morning.

Unbeknownst to me, things were not quite so quiet in other parts of the camp. It would seem that the almighty crack of thunder that I had heard which I had thought sounded immediately overhead, was indeed immediately overhead. The accompanying lightening strike had struck just in front of the cabins and had started a brush fire literally within the camp.

Fire is deeply respected in the Cederberg. Last summer, massive brush fires swept through one of the hearby mountain passes devouring hundreds of acres of growth. In nature, fire is a natural and necessary element which, despite its destructive powers does serve a useful and necessary purpose. This area is covered in “Fynbos” vegetation. Low bushes which grasp the mountainous terrain. Much like our Jack Pine and California’s Sequoia, the seeds of the Fynbos are very tightly encapsulated and require the heat of a fire to expand the gases within and break the seed pod open allowing for germination. In an uninhabited area, fire would not be so much of a problem but obviously where people and their livelihood are concerned, fire is a bad, bad thing. During the summer fires here many acres of land were lost as well as property and, sadly, one volunteer firefighter lost his life battling the blaze.

This time we were fortunate. The torrential downpour that immediately followed the lightening strike extinguished the flames quite quickly. It remains, however, a stark reminder of the harshness of this place and our vulnerabiliy here. We are miles from anywhere and miles from help. You survive by your wits and your abilities and you had better be sure you have both of them about you.

My first week in the Cederberg has been a glorious one with brilliant sunshine, temperatures between 25 and 30 and beautiful blue skies. Perfect hiking weather. I have been out and about at every opportunity making up for the lost time last year when the weather was so bad that hiking was out of the question. This year I have been exploring the surrounding mountain passes, and hiking the local trails. Most mornings I am up early and walk the ring road around camp, the Elephant Rock trail and sometimes down to the road and back up, all before breakfast. What a great way to start the day.

I know that I should let my friends in Clanwilliam know that I am back in the Cederberg but other than my quick sojourn to town for supplies, I haven’t been able to tear myself away from the solitude of the mountains. The chance to wander with one’s thoughts in this peaceful place is totally intoxicating and such a welcome relief from the chaos of life and responsibilities. There is a restfulness here that you feel immediately upon your return and you feel as if you are returning to the basics of life, without all of the trappings and materialism. It is a strange, yet comforting feeling, even though there is no question that this is a harsh and forbidding country. Life is not easy here, far from it, but I guarantee you there is nowhere else on earth where you feel so alive!

My return to the Cederberg would not be complete without a trip to the local town of Clanwilliam. Besides, I needed supplies. Wilderness life if great but there is no running down to the corner store if you run out of something. Planning and forethought are essential, as well as filling up at the gas station every time you pass one. One never knows when the notion to undertake an exploration into the mountains might strike and heaven forbid you should run out of gas in the mountain passes. That would definitely not be a good experience. So, off to Clanwilliam I headed on Wednesday.

Not much has changed in town in the year that I have been gone and I suspect not much often does. A wander down the Main Street met with the usual assortment of townsfolk, most giving a curious stare and a nod at a visiting stranger. I wandered through the PEP, the local clothing store and made a couple of purchases and then crossed the street to do some serious shopping in the grocery store.

I absolutely love the food here. Many things are very familiar although the cuts are all different and the spices! There is an entire isle dealing with spices and sauces of every imaginable type. Now what one does with them is absolutely beyond me. Once you get beyond my standard issue 15 or 20 spices, I am absolutely lost but I am sure going to have fun figuring it out.

Once again I found myself laughing out loud at my lack of prowess in the grocery shopping department here. Clearly I am going to have to hone my cooking skills and learn some new tricks of the trade. A quick stop at the wine store before leaving and I was on my way.

Even though I should have headed straight home with my groceries, I couldn’t resist turning right instead of left at the end of the street and doing just a little exploring before heading home.

Turning right send you up through yet another mountain pass, this one called Pakhuis Pass. The work “Pakhuis” means warehouse in Afrikaans and as soon as you traverse this road you know exactly how it got its name. The rock on either side of the road looks exactly like boxes of all different sizes piled one on top of the other. Even though there is no rhyme nor reason to the pattern, there is a strange symmetry to them that makes you think they have been placed there.

I stopped at a couple of “farm stalls” along the road. These are little roadside stores that usually sell everything from fruit to souvenirs to housewares. Often they have homemade jams and preserves and a bottle of orange jam from Traveller’s Rest was a must add to my shopping cart.

Satisfied with just a short excursion today for the sake of getting the groceries home, I headed back to Gecko Creek to enjoy a relaxing evening beside the fire in the Boma with the other guests. Always so interesting to hear the stories of the people who pass through here. We tend to think that we are all the same but when you see a constant stream of changing people you realize how unique and diverse each of our backgrounds really is.

A great meal eaten fireside, lively chatter and a spectacular, clear, starry night ended another great day.

Despite my good intentions to leave Cape Town in daylight on Saturday, we were having just way too much fun, so it was 5:00 p.m. before I was on the road to Gecko Creek. The N7 is all very good highway except that it is undergoing major construction to accommodate the water project that will see the height of the dam raised and consequently flood a large area of land. Nevertheless I reached the Algeria road and turned off to make my way to Gecko Creek. Easier said than done in the dark and you don’t really know what dark is until you have been here in the dark. There is absolutely no refracted light here so when it is dark it is dark. Even the brilliant display of stars affords you no help.

I was feeling rather annoyed with myself as returning to Gecko in the dark had robbed me of that sense of wonder and familiarity that I always have when I return here. Making my way up the winding road through the first gate, I remembered last year when I came and realized how I was missing being able to look across the rolling hills on my way up the drive. But beyond the second gate, South Africa had a special treat for me.

Ahead of me in the headlights I saw the bushy tail of an Aardwolf. These hyena like animals are rather elusive and I considered myself lucky last year when I caught a fleeting glimpse of one in my headlights. But that was nothing compared to this fellow. When my headlights fell on him, instead of running away, he turned round to stare at me. I stopped the car of course thinking that momentarily he would dash off into the underbrush. Instead, he very slowly walked right up to the front of the car, popping his head up and down as though he was not quite sure what to make of me. Then, he passed right down the side of the car but unfortunately it was on the passenger side rather than my side or I would have had a really good look at him. Still it was very cool!!! Apparently there is a den of them just past the second gate so finding it will definitely be on my to do list. Once again, South Africa has held a little treat for me just when I think I have milked everything I can out of a day.

I was surprised to see four cars in the parking lot as this is the winter and therefore the off-season here but when I got to camp there were half a dozen other guests besides myself and then of course there was John. It was a happy reunion as I greeted my old friend who runs the camp while Linton is away and again the time fell away as we caught up on the past year.

There are quite a few changes at Gecko since I was last here. The lappa is now enclosed with roll down canvas sides which makes a huge difference. It is lovely to sit inside on cool evenings or when the weather is bad (although it has been splendid since I got here) and look out through the large plastic windows. Well done Linton. Very good choice and it looks fantastic too.

There are more tents and a large gathering tent which is used for groups and meetings. I suppose it is good for business that more people are here but I like it best when the camp is empty. Right now I am here by myself. All of the guests are out on adventures and John has gone into Clanwilliam leaving me to man the phones. I am sitting in the lappa with the late afternoon sun streaming in, quite comfortable wearing a T-shirt and jeans. The birds are fighting at the feeders to my right, I just chased the Gerbils out of my bread bag that I had left on the counter, and Hoka the wolf is lying lazily on my left. Leopard Rock is just beginning to become a silhouette in front of the yellows and oranges of the setting sun and there is absolutely no more peaceful spot on earth.

I have indeed returned to paradise!