Mo's African Adventure

Well, I did it! I climbed Leopard Rock! And as high as I may have been on top of that rock formation, my spirits were soaring so much higher because of all that that symbolized for me.

Wednesday dawned a beautiful sunny day. I awoke at 7:00 and set out on my morning walk. I headed up the hill to travel around the “ring road” which circles around behind the camp and comes back out to meet the laneway into Gecko. Although it was daylight, the sun had not yet spilled over the mountain tops and to watch it slip quietly through first one valley then another was like opening a gift on Christmas morning.

Once back at the laneway I meandered over to Elephant Rock, sticking to the trail today and looping down below the elephants to again meet the laneway from the other direction. It was such a perfect morning that I couldn’t bear to go back so I turned down the hill and walked out the laneway down to the road that leads into the Cederberg.

At the bottom gate I stopped to examine some tracks in the dirt that I was not able to identify. I snapped a few photos, making a mental note to ask Ingrid and John about them when I got back to camp. Reluctantly I headed back up the mountain towards Gecko Creek where Ingrid had my coffee waiting for me. I am so absolutely and completely spoiled here!

In the afternoon, John (Linton’s guide) said that it was a perfect day for climbing and asked if I was ready to tackle Leopard Rock. I had been ready since the day I arrived but the weather just hadn’t co-operated so I was eager to get at it.

John, an accomplished climber, led the way, stopping to explore caves and centuries old San Bushman rock paintings along the way. With the thoughtful care I have come to know is typical of John, he patiently blazed the trail and pointed out the best hand and footholds for his LESS than accomplished student. It was an exhiliarating experience. Overcoming my fear of heights and achieving the goal I had set for myself six months earlier was fantastic.

That memory will stay with me forever. For me, it is a symbol of self-discovery and achievement. It was one of the most satisfying moments of my life!

After my great afternoon at the Clanwilliam Hospital I spent an hour or so in “downtown” Clanwilliam. I parked at one end of the town and wandered along the storefronts enjoying the sights, people watching for a little while, and even doing a little bit of shopping. The experience would not have been complete without one of Clanwilliam’s finest citizens joining me for a stroll along the road. It was a chance to practice my very limited Afrikaans as I told him to shove off and I was relieved when he took me at my word and left me alone.

It was my turn to cook tonight so a trip to the grocery store was in order. I am sure the townspeople will be talking about the crazy woman who was standing in the grocery store laughing out loud at the impossible task of finding enough familiar ingredients to make a meal from. While some things were familiar, many things were totally different. I finally settled on lamb chops (sans mint as it doesn’t seem to be popular here), rice and carrots. Fairly safe I figured. It will require an entire re-education to cook here! There are fascinating possibilities though as some of the choices have very exotic backgrounds.

After doing the groceries and a quick stop to stock up at the wine store (Hmmmm…. there’s that recurring wine theme again) I headed home to Gecko Creek. This time I headed home along the Highway as it was approaching dusk and best to be home before dark. As I turned off the N7 onto the road into the Cederberg I was confronted with an interesting dilemna.

The bridge over the Olifants River is extremely low, only a foot or so above water level at it’s lowest times. Even though we had had no rain today, the river had begun to rise. The runoff from the higher elevations had apparently made it’s way down to the main road in the 5 or 6 hours I had been in town. Although the bridge was completely above the water level when I went into town, it was now completely submerged in water. Not being very familiar with the bridge, I was not really sure how much water! There were two choices: go all the way back to Clanwillian (over half an hour away) and traverse the old, narrow, mountainous road back after dark; or, risk crossing the river.

Well, going back to Clanwilliam didn’t seem very appealing so … in I plunged. As it turned out, the water was only a couple of inches deep and it was easy enough to traverse it slowly with a little caution.

By the time I turned into the gate at Gecko Creek it was almost dark. As I was reflecting on an almost perfect day I couldn’t imagine it could get any better. But it was about to.

About a third of the way up the lane, my attention was caught by something moving up ahead in my headlights. At first I couldn’t tell what it was. It trotted ahead of me allowing me to put my high beams on it and getting quite close. I was first able to identify a bushy tail and a furry, brown and reddish striped body. Then I saw the fluffy, rounded ears. It looked like a cross between a fox, hyena and jackal. It was an “Aardwolf”. A mammal about the size of a medium sized dog relative to the Hyena family.

There is evidence of Aardwolves everywhere here as they dig up the trails to eat ants and leave behind obvious mounds of earth. They also make short work of termites. Although they are common, many people have never even seen one so I consider myself very fortunate.

It was the perfect end to a great day!

Tuesday dawned cold but clearing. No rain but still overcast. There is a tour group in the camp today so Ingrid led us all on a guided tour to Elephant Rock this morning, complete with her running commentary on the native plant life. It was a very interesting group of people, some from Sweden and some from Australia.

After our morning trek it was time to brave the showers. Lovely and warm while you are in them but rather “bracing” when you step out. A quick towel off and no time spared getting dressed and it was time to head off for my afternoon visit at the Clanwilliam Hospital.

By now the sun had begun to break through the cloud and was spilling over the valleys. I decided to take the back road to town which follows the rim of the valley that houses the Olifants River. The road had just been graded and the loose, red sandstone was on fire with the afternoon sun. The valley was spectacular and I was wishing that I had more time to stop and explore this fabulously scenic route. It would have to wait until another day.

As I rounded a curve just before dropping down into the valley and across the old bridge, a small troupe of baboons ran across the road in front to me. Mildly curious, they perched on the rocks at the side of the road and watched me watching them. Reluctantly I drove on as my agreed upon appointment time was drawing near.

Clanwilliam has a small, regional hospital with 48 beds. Up until three years ago it was a “private” hospital which meant that only people who had a health care plan could go there. These plans, from what I can gather, are similar to the HMO system used in the States except that anyone with a plan may go to any of the hospitals. Plans are available to varying degrees of coverage and people choose which plan they will purchase based on their need and siutation, and of course on affordability. Ah! Affordability. There’s the catch. The vast majority of black or coloured people cannot possibly begin to afford any kind of coverage so, for them there are the “State” hospitals.

Clanwilliam is a very small town, nestled in the mountains. Although they service a huge catchment area, it is mostly remote and therefore there are a lot of workers and not as many affluent people. Consequently, there came a point where the hospital was no longer able to operate as a private hospital as there just was not the population base of affluent people to support them. So, they became a state hospital, although they continue to operate a private wing.
There are 24 beds on each side.

The fee for staying on the “State” side is geared to income, starting at 20 Rand per night ($7) and up. This fee includes your bed, meals and all treatment. To stay on the “Private” side the cost is 518 Rand per night ($74) with your first night paid up front and you are billed after that. The Administrator assured me that there is equal quality of care on both sides; however, from my conversations with my friend Annatjie, I know this not to be true. Obviously, if it were true, what would be the sense in spending the money on the health care plan?

It was difficult to pursue this line of questioning as I did not want to offend these people who had so kindly offered to share their world with me. Through round about questions, I summize that the majority of patient care on the State side is given by nursing staff with physician consultation when necessary. I believe that it is primarily what we would call the “Residents” who care for these patients (medical students doing rotations in the hospital) and the treatment options available to these people are very minimal.

Patient care in the hospital is delivered by two G.P.’s in the village who do “Sessions” (we would call them Rounds) at the hospital each morning and book treatments/surgeries as necessary. These G.P.’s are the only medical staff available and continue as the primary physicians while their patients are in hospital.

As in our remote service areas, specialists from Cape Town visit once a week to hold Clinics: Orthopedics, Gynacology, Oncology, etc. Doctors bill either the insurance company or the patients directly as the case may be. Interestingly, nursing staff is paid a higher salary in the State hospitals than the private hospitals.

In this small, regional hospital, besides caring for ill patients they deliver babies (most deliveries being overseen by nurses unless there are complications) and basic surgeries such as Tonsils, Appendix and fixation of fractures. More major surgical cases would be referred and/or airlifted by helicopter to Cape Town.

After my meeting with the Administrator, one of the administrative staff gave me a tour of the hospital itself. A simple, one floor structure, the hospital was well maintained but, I suspect, far from the standards that our hospitals are held to. An aging building poses many housekeeping challenges. While the hospital appeared clean one doesn’t get the impression it is sterile by any stretch of the imagination. Treatment areas are small and confined with limited equipment. This was particularly evident in the Urgent Unit (Emergency Dept.) where I was struck by the minimal “at hand” equipment that we would see in our Emergencies. There was very basic equipment (oxygen, BP cuff and not much else) hardwired in the ER. While there is other portable equipment which can be accessed, one imagines precious time lost in truly critical situations.

There is a high percentage of trauma care at this hopsital. Most often from motor vehicle accidents, domestic violence and farm accidents. Priority is given to stabilization and transfer of patients as opposed to onsite treatment as opposed to on-site continuing care.

I was treated to an indepth tour of the Radiology Department by a very kind Radiologist. He was particularly proud to show me his brand new digital x-ray machine which allows radiographs to be viewed remotely by the Orthopedic surgeons in Cape Town. This is cutting edge equipment here which we in Canada have had for many years and take totally for granted.

It was a fascinating afternoon made incredibly interesting by the willingness of the staff to share their knowledge and experiences with me. I again was struck by the lack of barriers such as liability and confidentiality here. There was no restriction on where I was shown or into patient care areas. I got the grand tour. Absolutely great experience!

Today was another cold, rainy day so it was a perfect opportunity to go into town and do some errands.

After a lazy morning of reading my book, Ingrid and I loaded up the cars and headed off. We took two vehicles as we both had different things that we wanted to do and then we agreed to meet up for lunch. So off we went.

My first stop was the local hospital in Clanwilliam where I spoke to the Sister-in-Charge who kindly arranged for me to spend tomorrow afternoon talking to hospital staff and having a tour of the facility. I am most interested to learn how the medical system works here. I am sure I will find it very different from our universal health care system and the big, city hospitals where I used to work.

Next on my agenda was the local school. Here I was struck by how incredibly clean it was. The floors were just shining and it was apparent that a lot of care and importance is placed on its upkeep. The children also were impeccably turned out in school uniforms.

After a lovely chat with the delightful secretary, she showed me into the Principal’s office. He, a lovely coloured man, took great pains to introduce me to the South African education system. This week, it turns out, is a short week for schools here as Thursday and Friday are holidays. He has invited me back next Tuesday to spend the day with them in their school routine. I am so excited. They are the most beautiful children!

Ingrid and I met up at Nancy’s Cafe where we enjoyed a lovely lunch and chat over a cup of Rooibos tea before heading back to Gecko. Lenore (Jim’s mom who travelled with me here at Christmas) had very kindly given me money and asked that Ingrid and I enjoy a meal on her. As we savoured our wonderful lunches (Ingrid had smoked Salmon, I had a mushroom, cheese and onion open faced sandwich) we spoke of Lenore and our many happy memories here in South Africa: the many hours of laughter we shared sitting on the porch beneath Spirit Mountain; our trip to Bushman’s Kloof; our wonderful meals in the Lappa. Such special memories. We were a little bit melancholy that Lenore was not here to enjoy it all again with us but we carry her with us in our hearts.

Did I tell you all it is winter here?

Well … it’s winter here!

Yesterday (Saturday) it was a beautiful day. Bright and sunny and very comfortable temperature-wise in just a T-shirt … until evening came. The temperature dropped drastically throughout the evening necessitating a fleece jacket done right up to the top. By the time it was bedtime, it was downright cold. As I retired to my cabin I was extremely glad to snuggle down beneath two comforters. With my head under the covers, I tried to quiet my racing mind as it reflected on the onslaught of experiences of the past two days. I’d like to tell you that I drifted gently off to sleep … however … too much wine would necessitate another trip to the bathroom before sleep. I was loathe to crawl out from my cozy bed but alas there was no choice. Reminder to self: NOTHING TO DRINK AFTER 6:00 P.M.

I awoke to sunshine at 7:30 a.m., late for me, but refreshed by a fitfull night’s sleep after several days of travel. Annoyed with myself for having slept so late, I rolled out of bed, trying to at least partially dress beneath the covers to ward off the inevitable gasp as the first cold air of the morning hit me. Get up! Get going! I told myself but it was hard to convince myself to leave that toasty haven.

Lacing up my hiking boots, I set off for Elephant Rock. As I crested the hill and followed the meandering path, my eyes searched ahead for the familiar rock formations lumbering across the hillside. And then they were there. Two old friends waiting patiently to get reaquainted. Timeless and enduring. Watching and waiting.

For three hours I explored my old haunts and some new ones, once again content in the stillness of morning on the mountain. Although I was bathed in warm sunlight on the hill, a heavy mist hung low in the valley below me. As I made my way along the lower path beneath the elephants, it led me down into the mist and I could feel the icy bite of it that seemed in such contrast to the sand beneath my feet. Sand somehow always has a warm visual associated with it. It seemed strangely juxtaposed to the cold morning mist. One more contradiction in this land that writes its own rules.

The rest of the day remained rainy and dull. Strangely though, it wasn’t depressing. Rain here brings with it the promise of flowers and life in a forbidding environment and you just accept that you’d better be glad to get it when you can.

About mid-afternoon I turned onto the road leading into the Cederberg and to Gecko Creek. As I stopped to open first one then the second gate on the drive into the Lodge, I stopped to drink in the landscape. Still not what you would call “beautiful” in the traditional sense of the word, I was again struck by the power this place has for me. It is more the feeling you have here that is beautiful rather than what you see per se. There is a tranquility that envelopes you and calms your soul yet fills you with a sense of anticipation and discovery and promise.

Ingrid was waiting for me and such a greeting it was! It was as if the months just fell away; as if I had never been gone. We sat in the sunshine on the lappa lawn and laughed and exchanged stories of the time that had passed since we had last seen each other. It is that easy kind of friendship that picks up exactly where you left off, regardless of the time or events that have passed. Once more I experienced that comfortable sense of the familiar that I have come to associate with my return to South Africa.

After hours of catching up, Ingrid prepared the most wonderful meal of Ostrich Steak, boiled potatoes and broccoli. Absolutely out of this world. She had thoughtfully brought in my favourite wine and we enjoyed the rest of the evening sitting on the porch, sipping our wine and reflecting on the strange path our lives sometimes take and the chance encounters that bring us together, all the while looking out beneath a velvet blanket of the stars of the southern hemisphere.

I arrived in Cape Town late on Friday night. Our delay in Amsterdam meant that we did not get into CT until after 11:00 p.m. We were the last flight in and they wanted to close the airport so they rushed us through customs which was just fine by me.

Much as I love Cape Town, I must admit to a level of anxiety about being a woman alone there so late at night. Because we were so late, the hotel shuttle was not operating so had to take a taxi. A little bit nerve racking but as the saying goes, “All’s well that ends well.”

Arrived in at my hotel and collapsed into bed after a few quick emails home to tell of my safe arrival.

Come morning I was free to explore this wonderful city. My anxiety of the night before quickly vanished as I began to interact with people here and felt the familiar warm and open way of communicating they have here. So different from home. Here, people look you in the eye when they speak; their smile envelopes you and you feel as if they see right into your soul. You feel that somehow you share a little secret with each person that you meet.

I picked up my rental car and prepared to experience life on the opposite side of the road.

Much to my surprise, I was almost immediately completely comfortable driving on the left. At most intersections I have to take special note of which lane I should be turning into and I keep going to the wrong side of the vehicle when I go to get in, but other than that, I feel as though I’ve been doing it all my life. In fact, most things here are strangely comfortable for me. Can’t explain it but I am completely at home here.

After a few errands in town and a quick drive around to get the lay of the land (which in my bizzare learning style involved getting lost numerous times and having to reason my way back) I headed north towards the Cederberg.

Despite the weather forecast of rain, it was a glorious day. The brilliant sunshine illuminated the road ahead and cast beautiful light across a landscape now bursting with colour, the dry, burned off grasses of summer having been replaced with fields of green and layers of magnificent floral carpets.

I meandered along, enjoying re-experiencing things that were strangely familiar, despite not really having even taken a conscious note of them the last time I was here. As I drove north along N7 alongside the Olifants River, past trees heavily laden with ripening oranges, I thought that perhaps I should have asked Linton for directions, or at least the name of the road to turn off at and was curious as to why I hadn’t. It just didn’t seem necessary. I smiled to myself, knowing that the answers would come.

My eye was drawn to the right, across the Olifants River and up into the mountain range beyond. Then I saw it. It was unmistakable. I had forgotten that you could see it from the highway. It dominated the skyline and stood like a beacon; a warm and familiar friend, stalwart and ever unchanging. It was the distinctive saddle of Spirit Mountain.

Remember me saying how everything was going along smoothly with no unforeseen delays? Well … not quite.

Here I sit at Schiphol (Amsterdam) waiting for them to bring us a new plane as the one we were expecting was hit by lightening. The good news is a) they are bringing us a new plane (I wouldn’t want to use the one that got hit by lightening) and b) they only expect an hour’s delay and c) guess what? I can actually get the seatbelt done up without sucking in my tummy. I know that probably doesn’t seem like a big deal to most of you but to me … It’s HUGE! (No pun intended.)

Ah! Is there anything like an airport? The anxiety of unanticipated delays, the lineups at the check-in counters, the multi-national staff that you have to strain to understand, then … finally … the departure lounge.

Everything has been right on schedule today with a good trip through to the airport, no delays or problems, which meant that I arrived at the airport at our planned time of 2:30 for a 5:30 departure. So … here I sit.

Actually, I love the airport. I love watching the people, trying to figure out where they are going, where they have been, and wondering what their stories are. Even the waiting is, for me, part of the adventure. I remember as a little girl my dad standing with me in the airport parking garage watching the planes coming and going amid the sweet smell of aviation fuel. It is one of those isolated childhood memories that stays with me for some reason and always makes me smile when I think of it.

In half an hour or so they’ll begin boarding the plane and I’ll be off on my great adventure. What an amazing time we live in though, to think that in 23 hours I’ll be sitting on the other side of the world and you folks will all be upside down on the opposite side of the round ball we call earth. Why is it that we don’t fall off??? No wonder they used to think the earth was flat!

Can it be? Only one more sleep until departure day finally arrives. But will I sleep? Now there’s a question.

After six months of anticipation I am almost afraid to go. Afraid that the actual trip cannot possibly live up to the build up. Can it be as good as the last trip? Will it be a let down? Will going back somehow diminish those magical memories that drift pleasantly around in my head and can bring a smile to my face even in life’s most mundane moments?

This trip promises to be a very different trip from my last one. I hope to experience South Africa on a more down-to-earth level, less as a tourist than as an observer of everyday life there. A student of life and nature in that splendid vastness that anchors the continent of Africa.