Day 7
After a great evening with Chris and Jenny Taylor in Muizenberg, I set off at 6h30, for the longest day up to date. Due to the horror stories I have heard of what awaits me at places like Wolfgat, Macassar and Monwabisi Beach, I had made up my mind that the forty-three kilometres to Strand would have to be done in one day. Yzelle had already confiscated my cell phone and camera so that, if I do get robbed, at least these would be saved. As it turned out, all the concernes were unfounded, but OK, rather safe than sorry.
Soon after my departure, I met Gary, an ex recce, walking his dogs on the beach, telling me how he yearned to hit the road again. He had, in years past, hiked through Zambia, Namibia and Mozambique, but as his dog is now thirteen years old, he has to stay with her for her last few years.
Not long after that, I met up with a recreational fisherman who introduced himself as Shafieq the Plumber. When he heard my plans, he invited me to visit him at his beach house in Meer-en-See, near Hermanus, should I pass there over a weekend. He comes back into my story a little later again.
Almost from the moment I left Muizenberg, I had noticed dead seals on the beach, but now I also encountered a number of abandoned baby Cape Fur Seals, at intervals, all along the way as far as Mnandi Beach. In total, I counted eight dead seals of varying sizes and nine live, but exhausted young orphans. The last of these, I believe, was sent by God to lead me to Salie.
Salie had come down to the beach after dropping his kids at school. To contemplate and be with God, trying to find answers and guidance. You see, exactly a year ago, he had been hijacked in his driveway, late at night, taken to Wolfgat where his captors planned to kill him. However, they were disturbed by some local fisherman and they then took him to Zeekoeivlei, where, after pleading for his life, he was hit across the neck with a tyre lever and set free, wearing just his underwear and socks, while the hijackers took off in his new car. After hours by the roadside, he was picked up by an old couple who took him to the police station. A year later, he was still trying to make sense of this. We shared a good hour of talking and mutual confermation of our faith that God will heal us both, in His own time and very special way. Salie, my brother, God hears your prayers and He will never let you down. Go well, my new friend!
In my euphoria about the wonderfull people I have met along the way on my walk, this was a chilling reminder that, after all, we are still living on earth, not in heaven, and that bad things happen to good people too.
The rest of the day was a hot, sweaty and hard slog, and towards the end I had to scale high dunes to the top of cliffs a number of times. At the dynamite factory, just a few kilometres from Strand, I had to take a long detour up to the N2, as this is a resricted area. Thank you, Mossie, for getting me back to the Petroport from where I could call Yzelle. I spent the night with my sister, Marne, and her family in Somerset West. The nephews, Francois and Christian, were quite baffled by their weird uncle's tattered feet and strange mission.
Day 8
Marne dropped me where I finished yesterday and soon I realised that the sand on Strand's beach, is HARD! Very fine sand, very densely packed, with just about no shock absorbtion. And with feet as bruised as mine, it soon turned into quite an ordeal. Not the pain, so much as the futile attempt to simulate a confident smile to the two and a half zillion early morning walkers who shared the beach with me.
After having to retrace my steps for a hundred metres or so, due to the Harbour Island Estate that blocked me off solidly, I got back to the main road between Strand and Gordons Bay.! One good thing about this, is that my detour led me to a fruit seller in Main Road, who sold me three of the sweetest peaches I have ever eaten, for just R5,00! On my way through Gordons Bay, I got an offer from an old friend, Nikki, to stay over with them in Strand that night. As I was planning to walk as far as the Steenbras river mouth, that would mean that they would have to pick me up there and take me back to Strand, to drop me there again tomorrow morning. They saw no problem with that, so I gladly accepted yet another night of luxury accommodation.
By 15h30 I had reached my destination and decided to call it a day. My cell phone reception was poor and I was to do a telephonic interview again, with Radiopulpit at 17h15. Just before the designated time, I scaled some rocks overlooking the river mouth and bridge, to get better signal. The interview with Johan Els went well and within minutes after it, I received the first phonecall from a lady from Soweto, Betjie. Her words of support were so moving that I nearly fell down the rocks, blinded by the tears in my eyes. Another six phonecalls and fourteen text messages came through within the next few hours, from people who had heard the interview. My faith was being strengthened beyond my wildest expectations!
Finally, at Nikki's house, with her daughter, Simone and friend, Nicky (yes, Nikki and Nicky!), we chucked some steaks on the braai and relived some old stories from a time long gone, rekindled an old friendship, and added a new one. Thank you so much, Ladies! And the socks will go with me, For Marius!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
45km down, only 6405 to go!
O Hi all!
This won't be a long story, I only have two days to report back on.
Day one: After the interview with Die Burger, I set off at 8h15, yesterday morning. It is amazing how our minds pick up on our thoughts and worries. Within 100 meters, I felt pain in my knee. Half a block further, I thought I had a cramp under my left foot! But both disappeared halfway down Adderley Street and my nerves started settling as I passed the CTICC towards the V&A Waterfront. What a weird feeling to be walking through the city with a backpack while everyone else is hurrying off to work in smart city clothes. I guess I was the odd one out, though... At least, judging by the looks I got.
While it was cool, all went well... maybe too well. I was walking at a speed of more than five kilometres per hour and it felt great, although I soon realised that the pack was heavier than it should be (too much food!).
At the Sea Point Swimmingpools, a 70 year old German lady, Regina, fell in with me and we started chatting as we walked. I shared my plans and motivations with her and she told me about her childhood in Germany and Poland during WWII, when, as a six year old girl, they had to leave their home with no possessions and run, under threat of an air attack. During their first night, her only pair of shoes were stolen, and she had to walk another one hundred kilometres barefoot. By the time she decided to turn back, we had walked together to within a few hundred meters of the Twelve Apostles Hotel! Thank you for the company, Regina!
At that point, it was midday and the temperature was around thirty degrees centegrade. That was still OK. What was NOT OK, was that the tar road was probably another twenty degrees hotter than that. And apart from the prominade and Campsbay beach, I spent the whole day on tar. There was just no other place to walk. By five "o clock, I was almost in Llandudno, but at a snail's pace. There were two big blisters under my left foot and one grandmother of a blister under my right foot. My feet were on fire. Yzelle checked in on me for a progress report and gave me a hand, putting on some plasters, a life saver! I limped on to the Llandudno turn-off, where I camped next to the road... a windy, noisy camp, but I passed out just after 9pm and slept soundly until 5am.
I decided, this morning, to only have breakfast once I get to Hout Bay, to get the maximum distance out of the cool morning and pleasant hiking conditions. It took me just more than an hour to complete the four kilometres to the Baviaanskloof park in Houtbay, where I had a breakfast of muesli and nuts.
By the time I was halfway up Chapmans Peak Drive, my feet were complaining loudly! And then the first real disappointment... I couldn't get through the maintenance control point at the top lookout point. A few weeks earlier, I had gone there, specifically to scout the access (knowing that the pass was closed for maintenance). A passing cyclist told me that the gate there was only to keep cars out but after hours and over weekends when there was no work being done, you could walk, jog or cycle through there freely. Well, that had all changed in the meantime. Apparently, it was NOT OK to pass through there freely. Apparently, the maintenance company had warned locals on numerous occasions to stay out. Apparently, nobody had paid any mind to it. And apparently, the new gate (a very high, sturdy one, manned by a security guard) had been installed just a few days ago. No amount of negotiation could persuade the security guard to let me through and even after hours there would be another guard to relieve him. AND... the CCTV cameras meant that I would be seen going through and the guard would lose his job. Getting arrested on the second day of my adventure was not part of my planning. Anyway, if I had to get arrested at any time in my life, I would at least want it to be for something more original than trespassing!
But that left me with a major problem... Where to now? From my research of maps and books on the Cape's hiking trails, I knew that there was a trail from the Houtbay side, up to the top of Chapmans Peak. But there it ended. Bundu bashing through a sensitive fynbos nature reserve, to me, is like animal abuse, or cheering for Australia in the World Cup final... it is just not done.
So, in the end, after a long mental debate, I called in my admin/media/pr-partner for a shuttle around to the other side of the closed section. That was a mere three kilometres away. The detour turned out to be forty four kilometres. I then had to start walking again just below the Noordhoek control point, towards Kommetjie. What this means, is that I will have to complete those three kilometres when I eventually get back to Cape Town (assuming the pass would be open by then).
Eventually, at about 18h45, I arrived at the parking area at Kommetjie's Long Beach, where my old friend, Mike Bond, met me and took me home to spend the night. Mike and his wife, Sarah, had invited Yzelle over as well, and we spent a lovely evening catching up (I hadn't seen them in eight years!). The worst, however, came when I told Mike that I had to detour the pass. I had to find out from him, that a new hiking trail had recently been opened from Noordhoek to Chapmans Peak! In other words, the trail now actually ran from Hout Bay, all the way to Noordhoek! And I never knew! Not being able to get through the pass, was a huge disappointment, but finding out that after all, there actually was an alternative, was downright
depressing.
However, meeting up with old friends and experiencing their hospitality and enthusiastic support, cheered me up immensely, so we ended off a difficult day two on a high note with renewed optimism and commitment.
We'll chat again soon,
This won't be a long story, I only have two days to report back on.
Day one: After the interview with Die Burger, I set off at 8h15, yesterday morning. It is amazing how our minds pick up on our thoughts and worries. Within 100 meters, I felt pain in my knee. Half a block further, I thought I had a cramp under my left foot! But both disappeared halfway down Adderley Street and my nerves started settling as I passed the CTICC towards the V&A Waterfront. What a weird feeling to be walking through the city with a backpack while everyone else is hurrying off to work in smart city clothes. I guess I was the odd one out, though... At least, judging by the looks I got.
While it was cool, all went well... maybe too well. I was walking at a speed of more than five kilometres per hour and it felt great, although I soon realised that the pack was heavier than it should be (too much food!).
At the Sea Point Swimmingpools, a 70 year old German lady, Regina, fell in with me and we started chatting as we walked. I shared my plans and motivations with her and she told me about her childhood in Germany and Poland during WWII, when, as a six year old girl, they had to leave their home with no possessions and run, under threat of an air attack. During their first night, her only pair of shoes were stolen, and she had to walk another one hundred kilometres barefoot. By the time she decided to turn back, we had walked together to within a few hundred meters of the Twelve Apostles Hotel! Thank you for the company, Regina!
At that point, it was midday and the temperature was around thirty degrees centegrade. That was still OK. What was NOT OK, was that the tar road was probably another twenty degrees hotter than that. And apart from the prominade and Campsbay beach, I spent the whole day on tar. There was just no other place to walk. By five "o clock, I was almost in Llandudno, but at a snail's pace. There were two big blisters under my left foot and one grandmother of a blister under my right foot. My feet were on fire. Yzelle checked in on me for a progress report and gave me a hand, putting on some plasters, a life saver! I limped on to the Llandudno turn-off, where I camped next to the road... a windy, noisy camp, but I passed out just after 9pm and slept soundly until 5am.
I decided, this morning, to only have breakfast once I get to Hout Bay, to get the maximum distance out of the cool morning and pleasant hiking conditions. It took me just more than an hour to complete the four kilometres to the Baviaanskloof park in Houtbay, where I had a breakfast of muesli and nuts.
By the time I was halfway up Chapmans Peak Drive, my feet were complaining loudly! And then the first real disappointment... I couldn't get through the maintenance control point at the top lookout point. A few weeks earlier, I had gone there, specifically to scout the access (knowing that the pass was closed for maintenance). A passing cyclist told me that the gate there was only to keep cars out but after hours and over weekends when there was no work being done, you could walk, jog or cycle through there freely. Well, that had all changed in the meantime. Apparently, it was NOT OK to pass through there freely. Apparently, the maintenance company had warned locals on numerous occasions to stay out. Apparently, nobody had paid any mind to it. And apparently, the new gate (a very high, sturdy one, manned by a security guard) had been installed just a few days ago. No amount of negotiation could persuade the security guard to let me through and even after hours there would be another guard to relieve him. AND... the CCTV cameras meant that I would be seen going through and the guard would lose his job. Getting arrested on the second day of my adventure was not part of my planning. Anyway, if I had to get arrested at any time in my life, I would at least want it to be for something more original than trespassing!
But that left me with a major problem... Where to now? From my research of maps and books on the Cape's hiking trails, I knew that there was a trail from the Houtbay side, up to the top of Chapmans Peak. But there it ended. Bundu bashing through a sensitive fynbos nature reserve, to me, is like animal abuse, or cheering for Australia in the World Cup final... it is just not done.
So, in the end, after a long mental debate, I called in my admin/media/pr-partner for a shuttle around to the other side of the closed section. That was a mere three kilometres away. The detour turned out to be forty four kilometres. I then had to start walking again just below the Noordhoek control point, towards Kommetjie. What this means, is that I will have to complete those three kilometres when I eventually get back to Cape Town (assuming the pass would be open by then).
Eventually, at about 18h45, I arrived at the parking area at Kommetjie's Long Beach, where my old friend, Mike Bond, met me and took me home to spend the night. Mike and his wife, Sarah, had invited Yzelle over as well, and we spent a lovely evening catching up (I hadn't seen them in eight years!). The worst, however, came when I told Mike that I had to detour the pass. I had to find out from him, that a new hiking trail had recently been opened from Noordhoek to Chapmans Peak! In other words, the trail now actually ran from Hout Bay, all the way to Noordhoek! And I never knew! Not being able to get through the pass, was a huge disappointment, but finding out that after all, there actually was an alternative, was downright
depressing.
However, meeting up with old friends and experiencing their hospitality and enthusiastic support, cheered me up immensely, so we ended off a difficult day two on a high note with renewed optimism and commitment.
We'll chat again soon,
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The night before Kaalvoetsolo - What has happened up to now.
Hi and welcome to everyone!
Well, I have nine hours left before I start walking. You probably think that I should be sleeping by now and you would be right, I know this is no time to sit up and play on a laptop. But do you remember the night before your first day of school? Or the night before you left home to:
Start university...
Join the Army...
Start your first job...
Get married...
That is how I feel now. The butterflies are not fluttering, they are doing aerobatics in dodgem carts!
But no fear, I am in God's hands. And His hands do not fail. On a stormy night, almost nine years ago, I learnt to understand that for the first time, when I was alone... really alone... Cut off from everything out there, no hope to survive, a raging flood two meters below me, the water level still rising, hanging onto a log that could get washed away at any moment, no chance of climbing the vertical cliffs, rising a hundred and eighty meters above me, with a shattered knee, no possibility of anyone coming to look for me in the storm. I had one chance... PRAYER. So I prayed almost continuously for twenty seven agonizing hours. And He heard me. And He saved me. I need no proof of His existence, or His power, or His mercy or His love. I am alive because of that.
And that is why I am leaving tomorrow morning to walk further than I have ever done before. Despite being human and fallible, I do not consider failure. I look to God and He will lead me. What awaits me, I do not know. It does not matter.
I want to thank every single person who has given me any form of support, even if it just meant saying "Good luck!" And even those people who looked at me with that dazed, unfocussed expression, while looking around for a safe place to run to in case this crazyguy exhibits any more threatening behaviour. That just motivated me more!
In particular, I want to thank my family first. Ma, for never once questioning my ideas (she didn't bother asking me whether I'm crazy... I reckon after 42 years she has made her peace with that. Dankie Ma!
Then, Fritz and Herman (sorry, Philip!) for knowing how it feels and sharing their knowledge and enthusiasm. Marne & Danie, for your support (Sisi, you might have to come and rub some muscles) Danie, I really hope I don't ever, ever need your professional services!
My sons, Duncan and Philip III, for being excited for me and never asking why.
My in-laws-to-be: Oom Jurie, Tannie Yvonne, thank you, thank you! Jaco, for all the all-nighters, building this absolute winner of a website... Respect, Swaer! Marie for the dinners and coffee and beds when we had to stay over. Gerhard, Juanita and Jur, for the "soft" welcome into the family (I was warned to expect the worst!) and your support.
And then, Yzelle, my love, my pillar of strength, my soulmate, my driver, my conscience, my best friend. Only you will know exactly what it meant over the past eight months.
To everyone who has visited our website, or may visit in future, thank you. Even that small gesture of clicking on this site, is appreciated.
Finally, please visit The Cause, on this website, and if your heart leads you to donate, even a small amount, there is a very special young man and his family out there, who will appreciate it more than words can ever say.
I am walking because God allowed me to walk again. To Him, all the glory.
Now, please join me on this journey over the next few months.
I leave you with my own piece of hiking wisdom:
"A feeture of walking, is that it helps you toe heel your sole! :-)
Thank you all!
Jaco
Well, I have nine hours left before I start walking. You probably think that I should be sleeping by now and you would be right, I know this is no time to sit up and play on a laptop. But do you remember the night before your first day of school? Or the night before you left home to:
Start university...
Join the Army...
Start your first job...
Get married...
That is how I feel now. The butterflies are not fluttering, they are doing aerobatics in dodgem carts!
But no fear, I am in God's hands. And His hands do not fail. On a stormy night, almost nine years ago, I learnt to understand that for the first time, when I was alone... really alone... Cut off from everything out there, no hope to survive, a raging flood two meters below me, the water level still rising, hanging onto a log that could get washed away at any moment, no chance of climbing the vertical cliffs, rising a hundred and eighty meters above me, with a shattered knee, no possibility of anyone coming to look for me in the storm. I had one chance... PRAYER. So I prayed almost continuously for twenty seven agonizing hours. And He heard me. And He saved me. I need no proof of His existence, or His power, or His mercy or His love. I am alive because of that.
And that is why I am leaving tomorrow morning to walk further than I have ever done before. Despite being human and fallible, I do not consider failure. I look to God and He will lead me. What awaits me, I do not know. It does not matter.
I want to thank every single person who has given me any form of support, even if it just meant saying "Good luck!" And even those people who looked at me with that dazed, unfocussed expression, while looking around for a safe place to run to in case this crazyguy exhibits any more threatening behaviour. That just motivated me more!
In particular, I want to thank my family first. Ma, for never once questioning my ideas (she didn't bother asking me whether I'm crazy... I reckon after 42 years she has made her peace with that. Dankie Ma!
Then, Fritz and Herman (sorry, Philip!) for knowing how it feels and sharing their knowledge and enthusiasm. Marne & Danie, for your support (Sisi, you might have to come and rub some muscles) Danie, I really hope I don't ever, ever need your professional services!
My sons, Duncan and Philip III, for being excited for me and never asking why.
My in-laws-to-be: Oom Jurie, Tannie Yvonne, thank you, thank you! Jaco, for all the all-nighters, building this absolute winner of a website... Respect, Swaer! Marie for the dinners and coffee and beds when we had to stay over. Gerhard, Juanita and Jur, for the "soft" welcome into the family (I was warned to expect the worst!) and your support.
And then, Yzelle, my love, my pillar of strength, my soulmate, my driver, my conscience, my best friend. Only you will know exactly what it meant over the past eight months.
To everyone who has visited our website, or may visit in future, thank you. Even that small gesture of clicking on this site, is appreciated.
Finally, please visit The Cause, on this website, and if your heart leads you to donate, even a small amount, there is a very special young man and his family out there, who will appreciate it more than words can ever say.
I am walking because God allowed me to walk again. To Him, all the glory.
Now, please join me on this journey over the next few months.
I leave you with my own piece of hiking wisdom:
"A feeture of walking, is that it helps you toe heel your sole! :-)
Thank you all!
Jaco
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