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!
