The Kaalvoetsolo Blog Site

2009-07-15T03:47:00.000-07:00

06/05/09

Yzelle, oom Jurie and tannie Yvonne put me on the bus in Ermelo at 12h30. It was a sad goodbye but if all goes well, I should see them in about six weeks time. The bus trip to Durban was slow and uneventful and we arrived at 22h25. I had to find a place to overnight but the only hotel nearby charges R369 per night. Not within my budget by a long shot! So I tried the plice station inside the railway station. They said I was welcome to sleep anywhere in the Arrivals hall in front of the police station. Oh well, it was a safe, dry and warm place. So I made myself comfortable amongst about twenty other homeless people. Sandile, a shoemaker, started asking me about my walk and I got the chance to share my testimony with him. It was a long an spiritual conversation and after assuring me that he would rejoin his church, he settled down on a spread of newspaper and promptly fell asleep. I was less comfortable on the hard floor leaning against my backpack and started sliding down lower and lower until I was lying flat on my back. I must have dosed off sometime over 01h00.

07/05/09

I woke up at 04h00, realising that I had slept quite well under the circumstances. After washing my face and brushing my teeth in the public restrooms, I headed downstairs to the bus terminal. The Greyhound office opened just before 06h00 and I checked in for the 07h00 bus to Port Shepstone. The busride was smoothe and before long we were at the mall in Port Shepstone. At the Engen garage, I met Beverly who organised me a lift to the taxi rank where I caught a minibus taxi to Port Edward. At the Leisure Bay turnoff I got out and phoned oom Jan Terblans who came to fetch me from there. He and tannie Lorraine were both surprised to see the effect of 6kg of regained weight since I had last been there two weeks ago. We spent the rest of the day chatting and eating!

08/05/09

After an extra long breakfast, I said goodbye to tannie Lorraine and oom Jan drove me back to Port Edward, where I had ended two weeks ago. It was hard to get into the walk after my extended sick leave and seeing as I had only about 14km to go to Munster, I took it slowly. The scenery was great but the terrain was tough with a lot of rocks and the footpaths along the coast were muddy and swampy after the recent rains. I slipped and landed on my bum a number of times but eventualy saw the Munster Life Saving Club and knew that I was almost at the Mittendorf Caravan Park, belonging to my friends, the Stoppel family. The beach was ful of running, playing, shrieking kids and I spotted a very calm looking gentleman who had an air of gentle authority, standing aside, watching over the kids. He introduced himself as Andre Schutte. As head of the local branch of regional environmental education network, he had many contacts and offered to assist me in finding accomodation along the coast. For now, he gave me the directions to the Stoppels’ place. Half an hour later, I arrived and was greeted with open arms by Denise and Dave. Christine was still at work, but her daughter, Jade, was all over me, as energetic as ever. We threw frizbee until Christine arrived and things calmed down a bit. We had a lovely evening catching up, but after my first day back on the walk, I was quite tired and passed out just after 21h00.

9/5/09

It was Saturday, so the Stoppels didn’t have to get to work early. That meant a big breakfast, but by 8h30 we were on our way back to the Munster beach, where Denise first took some photo’s that she wanted to send to the local newspaper. Then, after saying our goodbyes, I set off for Margate, my planned stop for the night.
The whole of the South Coast is densely populated and the small villages tend to blend into each other, which means that sometimes I had no idea which one I was walking through unless I asked the people I met along the way. Furthermore, the coastline was much more rocky than I had expected and the going was not always easy. The recent rains had created a lot of marshes just beyond the high tide mark above the rocks and even the footpaths and paved walkways were muddy and I ended up on my backside more often than anywhere else on my walk up to now. But the scenery was great and the people really friendly, so before I knew, I was in Margate and my day had come to an end… or so I thought. I still had not secured a place to stay overnight and camping on the beach in a densely populated area such as this, is never a good idea. After buying dinner at KFC (always a bonus in towns!), I started enquiring about a caravan park or cheap accommodation. There seemed to be a caravan park “just up the hill” and I followed the directions but it was already dark and I saw none of the signs I was told to follow. After more than half an hour of wandering through dark and quite dingy streets, I saw the familiar blue lantern of a police station. The officers on duty gave me much clearer directions and within minutes, I found the caravan park. But… as I had no tent, I would not be allowed to camp here (for all practical purposes, I was seen as a “squatter”). BUMMER! Now what? Only one option, find a cheap backpacker’s lodge or boarding house. As I was making my way back towards the beachfront, I found what I was looking for, The ………………… is a bording house that would only charge me R95 for a single room and shared bathroom. That was more than I needed and since I had been blessed during the day, I had accumulated more than R500 in donations! Margate was starting to look less hostile than I had first thought. I dug into my now cold KFC meal with gusto and was asleep soon after.

10/5/09
As I was walking down to the beach at around 8am, I was stopped by two families who had seen the You magazine article and recognised me. A photo session followed and ended in breakgast at the Wimpy with Llwellyn, Louse, Rudi and the family. Margate on a warm winter morning, is a magic place with a beautiful beach… not at all the dark, unwelcoming place I had thought it to be the night before.
But I could not linger, Port Shepstone was not getting any closer as long as I was sitting around, so I bade my breakfast hosts goodbye and set off. As yesterday, I was passing many small connected coastal villages. It was Sunday and many people were out on the beaches and in the streets. I was stopped often by interested people and was even offered accommodation in uMkomaas, by a lady, Susan, who stopped me on the road. uMkomaas was still a few days away for me, but she gave me her phone number and told me to phone them when I get there. My spirits were high and I was quietly praising the Lord for His Love and Mercy, as I quickly completed the 25km to Port Shepstone.
But Port Shepstone was not an easy place to find accommodation either. However, at the Engen One-Stop, I ran into Beverly, who called her manager, Louis, who knew of a good backpacker’s lodge just a few kilometres on, at Mzumbe. He gave me directions and even phoned ahead to ensure that they had a bed available for me.
It was already dark by the time I had covered the 6km from Port Shepstone to the Mantis and Moon Backpacker’s Lodge in Mzumbe, but it was worth the extra distance. Gert, who is originally from Holland, runs a very efficient, clean, friendly hostel and made me feel very at home, in my own private teepee. The other guests there were very interested in my adventure and my plans for an early evening, soon evaporated as I was peppered with questions, but it was, all in all, a great evening of conversation and friendship.

11/5/09
When I checked out, Gert told me that my accommodation and breakfast was on the house and I ended up paying only for dinner and my cold drink of the previous night. Generosity just seems to have no end on this journey of mine and I left with a song in my heart!
From here, the population gets less dense and more rural. The N2 highway runs along the coast here and I found it easier to walk on the road than on the coarse, deep, calve cramping sand of the beach. However, the road was busy and I have always been nervous of the big trucks passing so close to me and when a small truck’s steel hubcap came off and nearly hit me on the shin, I decided that the beach was a better option. However, the road had gradually led me further and further from the coast, so I was stuck in the highspeed traffic. At least, until I could find a way to the beack. At the Mthwalume turnoff, I saw my chance and left the highway.
As I entered the village, I spotted a small café and stopped for a cold drink and some biscuits. And a slab of chocolate! While sitting on the lawn outside, a car stopped next to me. Oom Tinkie and Tannie Pop Bodenstein, and their friend, Tannie Letta, had recognised me earlier in the morning as they passed me on the road. Their invitation to stay over at their home around the corner, came as a surprise but at just the right time, as I was exhausted (mostly psychological, I suspected, as my nerves were shot by this time).
The Bodensteins are beautiful people and made me feel like I was part of the family!

12/5/09
After another big breakfast, Oom Tinkie decided to walk down to the beach with me to see me off. Tannie Pop came down with the car to drive him back home. It was warm and I walked well on the low tide, but soon the wind came up and the sand became deeper and soft. It slowed me down considerably and I was relieved to reach Pennington during the afternoon. From here it was only another 8 km to Kelso, where I planned to find overnight accommodation. The incredible storms of the 2008 spring had caused massive destruction along this part of the South Coast. The road between Pennington and Kelso had been closed for vehicles ever since, but I would be able to walk it. This was a relief, because the N2 is quite a few kilometres inland and would mean a long detour. The exact reason why the road had been closed, became evident when I came upon the bridge across the river. One of the concrete pillars supporting the bridge, had been washed away and a definite, dangerous dip, with matching cracks, was visible in the road surface. The reinforced concrete rails also showed a sad sagging in the middle of the bridge and even though I had been assured that people regularly walk across, I made sure not to waste any time getting to the safety of the far bank.
Upon entering Kelso, I saw the sign for VulaManzi (Place of Flowing Water), a local self-catering lodge and surf camp, pointing towards the east. Twenty minutes later, the owners, Nick and Colleen, checked me in and gave me a discount of R100! Even though I immensely enjoy and appreciate the hospitality of all my newly acquired friends along the way, it was good to have some privacy and free time to reflect on my experiences since I had resumed the journey.
Before I had reached the South Coast, I was uncertain of what to expect. That had created some trepidation in my mind, but now I was starting to form quite a different opinion of the area, and even more so, of its people. Wherever I went, the locals and visitors had treated me so well and had been so generous and friendly, that I even felt more than a little guilty about my previous perceptions. I am very thankful and extremely proud of being a South African. I share this beautiful country with the best people on the planet! And I challenge anyone (my often pessimistic countrymen included) to prove me wrong!

13/5/09
From Kelso, my next stop would be uMkomaas, where I had been offered accommodation with Susan and her family. However, her uncle had been seriosly injured in a mining accident a few days ago and she had taken her mother to visit him in hospital in Pretoria. But not before she had made alternative arrangements for me with other friends of hers, Narda and her son, Liam.
The walk to uMkomaas was uneventful but tiring and I was glad to see the village in the late afternoon. We had a great braai and I fell into my bed exhausted and passed out within minutes.

14/5/09
Liam had to get to school early and Narda to her business, so I too, had an early start. Walking along the road at the beach front, the evidence of last year’s storms was again very visible. One entire lane of the tar surface had been destroyed, in fact, it was completely washed away and construction teams were still busy building up an embankment on which to rebuild it. The raw destructive and landcaping power of the elements was evident here and I was reminded that nature is never to be underestimated.
As I was walking through Mgababa, Narda phoned me to say that she had arranged with Shelly, a reporter of The Mail, the local newspaper, to meet me at the Ultra City, on the N2. It so happened that I was just approaching the Ultra City when she called.
The interview didn’t take long and it would help to make people in the area aware of what I was doing.
From here I took the road to Amanzimtoti, through Winkelspruit. As I enetered Toti, I phoned Ollie Nel. Ollie is a friend of Andre Schutte, whom I had met on the beach at Glenmore, a week ago. In the meantime, Andre had been busy getting hold of friends and associates along my route, to assist me as I go along.
It was late in the afternoon when I met Ollie at the Amanzimtoti Life Saver’s Club on the beachfront. With him was Marius, Andre’s brother, who was in town for business, and would also spend the night at Ollie’s place. We had a very enjoyable guy’s night at Ollie’s private lapa, The Fig Tree, on top of the densely vegetated dune in front of his house. They are about ten years older than me, but we soon established that all of us had done army service during the “old days” and had been posted to similar bases, at different times. As any South African man between the age of 35 and 60 would be able to confirm, the rest of the evening was taken up with stories of the army. Stories we had told a thousand times before, legends we all knew very well. About the tough times during training, good times during operational service, but nothing of the real war we were involved in. To those who had not experienced it, it would seem that the war was no more than a time of useless running and inspections during basic training, followed by good times and silly anecdotes of guys getting up to no good, with no real fighting. But it is also true that nobody who had been there, really wants to talk about what had happened there. It is better this way. We talked late into the night until I had to excuse myself to get at least some rest before daylight. It was a great evening one I would remember for a long long time.

15/5/09
Once again, I had to first have a big breakfast with Ollie before setting off. For someone who has never been much of a breakfast eater, I was having a lot of large breakfasts lately! From here, I had to walk mostly through the Durban Industrial area, along King’s Way, which follows a section of the now famous route followed by Dick King on horseback on his epic journey during the Anglo Boer War of the late 1800’s. It looks a lot different to what he must have seen more than a century ago and I must admit, it must have been much more scenic then. Now a large area from here to the Durban harbour is taken up by factories. Amongst these, is the Toyota plant, a huge, spread out maze of massive workshops, warehouses and office buildings. However, after working my way through this labyrinthe, I reached the beach again. It was great to feel sand under my feet but this also didn’t last long, because I soon encountered one of the roughest sections of rocks that I have had to cross in a long time. Fortunately, it was not a long stretch, and after almost two hours of scrambling, climbing, and crawling, I was on sand again, a long straight, deserted beach, all the way to The Bluff, where I climbed the 398 steps to the top of this ridge that shelters most of southern Durban from the sea.
At the end of The Bluff, just before the Army Base, I was met by Wally Pelser, another friend of Andre Schutte. At the café where I waited for him, I met the owner of the shop, Babs Naidoo, who is also I minister, doing a lot of missionary work amongst the Zulu sangomas in the area. We were still chatting when Wally arrived and we only left after Rev Babs had prayed for me. It struck me again, how God brings people across my path in such unexpected places and always at times when I really need their help, even though I often don’t even realise that I have a need of their words and support. Many times I only become aware of this need AFTER the encounter. Which is all the more profound, as it reinforces the fact that God knows my needs even before I do.

Wally, his wife Tammy and their baby daughter, Madison, live in a big old house in Glenwood. He also runs his successful business from here, facilitating corporate teambuilding, conferences and running educational adventure camps and excursions for schools. It is something that I have been dreaming of for many years (the educational aspect) and I connected with Wally from the start. His passion and faith is evident in his business and also his family. I enjoyed my stay so much, that I accepted their invitation to take the next day off and spend it with them. It was to be my first off day since resuming my walk after the tick bite episode.

16/5/09
It was great to wake up early and knowing that I could lie in a bit longer, but I smelled breakfast. Wally’s friend, Berto and his wife, Marcelle, who had joined us for dinner the night before, came over again. The ladies went to town and us guys went to Ushaka, the Durban waterfront, for lunch, where we met Wally’s other friends, Jean and Morne. We took little Maddy with us. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the mood at the beach was festive, with an electric atmosphere of anticipation… the afternoon would see Kings Park hosting The Bulls against The Sharks, in the last round before the semi-finals of the Super 14 rugby tournament.
Wally and his friends are Sharks supporters. I had no loyalties towards either team, my team having been eliminated earlier in the play-offs. But let me rather not get into that. Being a Stormers supporter is like having a brother in jail… you still love him, but you just don’t talk about him in public. Even though The Sharks still had an outside chance of making the semi’s with a win and bonus points here, that would mean both teams would have to play their vital games overseas. If The Bulls win today, they would have a home semi. And we all agreed that South Africa needs to have at least one team going through to the final. The Bulls had the best chance, so when they narrowly beat The Sharks, we all agreed that it was for the better.
Rugby has to be followed by a braai. It is not a custom, it is a rule. So we had a braai. A good one, a massive hump of beef in the kettle braai. And because we are South Africans, and because we are rugby fanatics, we spent the evening reliving the game. And discussing the various possible outcomes of the semi’s and ultimately the final. And who would be chosen for the Boks in the upcoming British & Irish Lions tour. And who would end up winning the series. And reflecting on previous Lions tours, from 1893 to the present. And how impossibly expensive tickets have become. Ah, rugby is great.

17/5/09
Early on Sunday morning, Wally, Tammy and Maddy drove me back down to uShaka, where I was to start walking again. Between The Bluff and uShaka, is the massive Durban Harbour complex, through which I would not have been able to walk.
The weather was great, and the beach was almost packed with sunseekers, something that was weird for me as a Kapenaar (resident of The Cape), where our winters are cold and wet. Durban, however, is famous for its warm sea and all year round warm(ish) weather. The whole beach front exuded a holiday atmosphere and many people were dressed in light blue t-shirts and rugby jerseys. They were Bulls supporters and many of them had no tan, identifying them as visitors from the north, where it was already winter.
It was a great day for walking and I only stopped at a petrol station in Durban North for a bite to eat. Here I met Jacqui Wilkes, her son, Simon and daughter, Georgina. They insisted that I accept their invitation to stay over with them in Groutville, when I get there. That would be in about two days time. I was very thankful for the invitation because I had now entered the North Coast, another area of which I knew nothing.
I reached Umhlanga Rocks by early afternoon. As I turned down the first road into town, a car stopped next to me. The driver, Anton Muller, had seen an article about my walk. He invited me to a late take-away lunch with his family and to spend the night in their home. His wife, Rianne, and daughters, Anneri and Monique were eager to hear my story and after attending church with them, we spent the evening chatting about it, and also about our individual spiritual experiences. It was great to be able to share with such a faithful family.

18/5/09
Anton dropped me down at the beach again and I set off for Balito, where Wally had arranged accommodation for me with his friends, Johnny and Yvette Grace.
Not far from Umhlanga, as I entered Umdloti, I was stopped by three ladies in a bakkie. They had also read my article in the You magazine and wished me well. Shortly after that, I walked past a small complex on the beach front and got the smell of coffee from the restaurant upstairs. Not just plain coffee, but GOOD filter coffee. The temptation got the better of me and I pulled in. I was sitting on the balcony and as I ordered my second cup, I saw people waving from the parking area below. It was the same ladies,Zelda, Joey and Ashlyn, who had stopped me before and they came upstairs for a chat.
But Balito was still some distance away and I had to limit myself to just two mugs of coffee, as hard as it was for me.
Most of the day was quiet and easy going, but one of the most profound meetings on my journey occurred just as I came up from the beach to the parking lot where I was to meet Johnny. A middle aged man was standing at the top of the stairs, looking out across the sea. When I was a few metres away from him, he suddenly looked me straight in the eye and asked, “Why are you here?” I was slightly surprised by the strange question and laughed (I probably sounded a bit nervous), telling him the condensed version of my story. He then asked me if I were a Christian, to which I could answer with confidence, “Yes”. What he said next, completely caught me by surprise: “I’ve been waiting for you”. Then, probably because he saw my consternation, he added: “Well, not YOU, personally, of course, but I’ve been asking for a sign and I came here for an answer. You see, five years ago I was diagnosed with cancer and was told I had five years to live. Since then, I had received treatment and now the doctors say I can live longer but they don’t know how much longer. I don’t know what to do. I had budgeted for five years, that is over now and I don’t know how to deal with my extra time. I am not a believer in the sense that you Christians believe, but I do believe that there is a higher power and I have been coming to this place regularly for the past few months to meditate and try to find answers. Tell me your whole story.”
I was almost in tears when I saw the fear in his eyes and I told him of how God had heard my prayers when I called out to Him in my desparate hours and how He has been revealing Himself to me on this journey. I then asked him if I could pray for him and he said, “Yes please, I would really like that”. It was such a profound, intimate moment, as we stood there together in a deserted parking lot, praying quietly. As I looked up, he turned away with tears in his eyes, said, “Thank you. My name is Paul”, got into his car and drove off. I stood there for a few minutes, not really able to fully grasp what had just happened. I started praying again, silently, asking God for an answer. Had I done the right thing? Had I done enough? Should I have done more? Did I let Him down? Did I let Paul down? All the while I was walking on towards my meeting place with Johnny.
Johnny Grace met me at the parking area in front of the small shopping mall and immediately we hit it off. We just clicked from the moment we met and I know that our friendship will last for many years. His wife, Yvette, is just as lovely a person and his two little girls, Tineal and Jordan, are absolutely adorable!

19/5/09
With the promise of finding contacts for me further along my route, Johnny said goodbye to me and I walked down to the beach, on my way to the Wilkes family at Groutville. They were the ones whom met in Durban North a few days ago.
But today is also another big day for me, because before I reach the Umvoti river mouth, I would hit my 2000km mark.The route followed the beach for most of the day, with only a few sets of rocks around Tinley Manor and just 2km after this little village, I reached this important milestone. At my 1000km mark, my son, Philip, was with me and we could share the moment, but now I was all alone and apart from sending a text message to Yzelle and some friends, there was no celebration. So I set off again to finish the last 6km to the mouth of the Umvoti, where Simon agreed to meet me.
My welcome at the Wilkes home was more than warm. This devout family not only took me in, but urged me to spend an extra day so that I could meet some of their friends.
It turned out that they are also friends of Johnny and Yvette, who had already arranged to come over to Jaqui and John’s home to celebrate my 2000km.
The evening was spent in praise, worship and prayer. Johnny wanted me to share with them my experience in the Balito parking area. But before I could start, Jaqui said something that both baffled and reassured me. She said that she had had a vision of me after our first meeting, a few days before. In this vision, she saw me as a farm hand, sowing seeds. I was not the farmer, tending the crop, but one who sows for the farmer, then moves on. I was shocked at the clarity of her vision, but suddenly it made sense. It was not my job to save souls, I am human. Only God can save souls, my role here, is to plant the seeds through my testimony. It is then in God’s Hands to use that if and how He pleases. He has appointed some individuals to guide and support those souls on His Path, people like John and Jaqui. We all have different talents, some seemingly small, others bigger. But no one is more important than the other. I will probably never know what has since happened in Paul’s life, but I find peace, knowing that he is in God’s Hands and that I have not failed in my task, regarding him.

20/5/09
It was a lazy rest day for me. Simon took me for a drive in the old Ford Fairlane, a car that he had inherited from his grandfather and which John had resprayed in bright orange. It was a nostalgic moment for me. A friend of my dad had a similar car when I was a little boy and Dad owned its cousin, a Ford Fairmont. I remember how my dad had traded this car in for a lighter Audi 100LS, in 1974, when the price of petrol had shot up to 8 cents a litre! Those were the days.
Later in the morning, a friend of Jaqui’s came for a visit. Jo had a book of Billy Graham, called The Journey, that she gave me to read on my travels.
In the evening, we drove back towards Balito to attend their Cell meeting at Don and Viv Charles’ home. It was again, a wonderful evening of praise, worship and sharing.

21/5/09
Time to go, but it was with sadness that I bade the Wilke’s family goodbye, as Simon drove me back to the beach at the Umvoti mouth. The river was shallow and I waded through easily. I had not encountered any deep river mouths that I had to swim through, since leaving the Wild Coast. The few big rivers on the South Coast all have bridges crossing them near the sea. Now I had one big mouth ahead of me, the Tugela. In the 1800’s, the mouth was big and deep enough for relatively large ships to enter, but through agricultural irrigation, commercial damming, and maybe climate change, its flow had been diminished to such an extent that the once mighty Tugela now consists mostly of a few channels, intersected by many sanbars. And these sandbars are often covered in crocodiles. I’ve been told by many that the Tugela is the boundary between civilization and wilderness. North of the river, I need to be wary of everything: people, crocs, hippo’s, leopards, snakes and sharks. It was not reassuring, but I am determined to stay positive and to keep my faith. It has not failed me yet.
But at Zinkwazi, just before the Tugela, I was forced to make a responsible decision. Fishermen told me that there has been considerable crocodile activity in recent weeks. Viewing crocs, or even getting close to them, on land, is one thing, but swimming through a river where they are known to hunt, is stupid. That is, if you have an alternative. On the Wild Coast, I had no other way of crossing the rivers, even though I knew there were Zambezi sharks around. Here, however, the N2 runs parallel to the coast, about 8km inland. So, with sanity prevailing, I chose the longer, safer route.
Just west of the N2, on the southern bank of the river, is an adventure camp, belonging to Wally Pelser’s company, The Venture Group. It is called Seula and is managed by Wally’s parents, Willy and Lydia Pelser. They had already invited me to stay over and that solved my dilemma of getting across the Tugela. From their place, I could walk across the N2 bridge, making my way back to the coast further along.
The camp was swarming with about forty ten-year old girls, an educational weekend excursion from one of the prominent Durban primary schools. It was clear that they were having fun. Willy is one of those gentle giants, an ex-provincial rugby player, now playing grandfather, mentor, and entertainer to a new generation of city kids, coming to enjoy an adventure in the african bush. At dinner, under the huge roof of the dining shed, a sudden shriek erupted from forty young female throats, a hairraising sound on its own. The cause, is the unexpected and loud entrance of “the witchdoctor”. He is actually the old night watchman, dressed up and masked like an ancient sangoma, shouting and performing a wild dance. Within moments, the girls were singing and dancing with him, the shock forgotten. Oom Willy laughs delighted, telling me that the girls were expecting the surprise, it is a fixed feature of every dinner at Seula, one that has become a tradition, yet, everytime the witchdoctor makes his unexpected, expected appearance, the reaction is the same. Later in the evening, back in my sleeping quarters, I reflect on how much kids are missing, living sheltered lives, dictated by television and playstation. This group of girls come from wealthy homes where they would most likely have all these luxuries and probably take it for granted. Yet, could anything in their own environment get the same unabashed, extatic reaction from them, as this simple old man did tonight? I wonder.

22/5/09
I left at 10h00, much later than planned, but Wally had driven through from Durban to help prepare for a corporate group that was coming for a day of teambuilding and I decided to wait for him before I set off.
As I crossed the bridge over the Tugela, I saw my first crocodile of the journey. It was small, hardly 1,5 metre long, basking on a sandbar, about a hundred metres downstream from the bridge. It looked quite harmless at this distance, but I felt a shiver down my spine at the thought of swimming through the river with this youngster’s dad and uncles around.
My plan was to take the first road or path towards the sea, but before any sign of a turnoff, Don Charles from Balito, phoned me to say that an associate of his, Richard McKibbon, has asked if I would stay over with them at their mission station near Amatikulu. It was near the tar road and just the right distance for a day’s walk. I accepted and stuck to the N2. Walking on tar again, was quite rough and my feet soon started feeling the abrasive effects. But I made good time and reached the village well before sunset.
Richard welcomed me at the creche, which forms the main base of the community project. A few of the local young men involved in the project, sleep here, while Richard and some of the others live in a homestead of simple mud huts further up the road. I had a choice of either. I caught an instant liking of S’du and JJ, both staying at the creche, so I opted for staying over there too. After spectating at the daily soccer practice on a dusty, sloping pitch, we all went back to the creche for dinner. With no electricity in the area, cooking is done mostly on gas and woodfires, water for washing is also heated on a fire outside.
Richard is one of a very special breed of young men who have had a definite calling and are now living their lives for God. Coming from a wealthy background, with a university education and a promising career as a professional sportsman, Richard gave it all up when God showed him his calling. He now lives a spartan life, but clearly filled with an inner joy and peace that is infectuous. I felt so at home here, that I accepted their invitation to spend another day with them and attend their community meeting the next morning.

23/5/09
We got up early for a quick breakfast of maize meal porridge and then sat around chatting until it was time to go to the community meeting. JJ was telling me how he had lived as a street child in Umhlanga. He had met Richard there for the first time while the young missionary was working amongst the homeless youth in the area. He laughed, embarrassed, as he recounted the story of how their gang once ambushed Richard and beat him up, but he wouldn’t give up and kept coming back. Then JJ fell sick and ended up in hospital. That was when he made the decision to leave his life of glue sniffing and drugs behind and joined Richard at the youth centre. He is now a devout Christian and is trying to find his own calling in life. Maybe he will go back to the street kids, after all, he understands their life and has the necessary survival skills to be able to work with them, but most of all, he has a testimony to share with them, about how Jesus has made all the difference in his own life.
The community meeting is an informal, interactive session of prayer, singing and games and it was with a sense of shame that I witnessed these poor, simple people, praising the Lord with such childlike and uninhibited joy. How pretentious are we, most of the time, in our formal, judgemental churchlife, compared to their innocent spirituality.

24/5/09
Richard arranged for me to stay over with friends of his near Mntunzini, if I don’t find accommodation elsewhere. I was sticking to the tar road for now, and though the tar was rough, the terrain was easier than the deep sand along this part of the coast. And Mntunzini is right next to the N2 anyway. As I got to the toll gates at Mntunzini, a car hooter blared out at me. I looked around to see Richard, waving at me and signalling that he will wait for me at the toll plaza. He had decided to visit his friend, Leigh Eggers, on her family’s farm. So I had a lift in stead of walking the extra distance off my route. But just as I reached his bakkie, another car stopped next to me. It was Claude, owner of Nature’s Way Backpackers in town. A friend of his had seen me walking earlier and told him about me, so he decided to come and intercept me. Leigh, her mom, Joan and brother, Mark, agreed that I might have a better opportunity to share my testimony at the hostel, so I decided to accept Claude’s offer.
By the time I had checked in and got my pack in the room, Claude and his wife, Aga, had already arranged interviews with three local and regional newspapers for me. We sat around the fire, chatting and sharing until late into the night, with two half tame zebras coming right up to the fire. Claude explained that they had come from the reserve next to their backpackers, after being kicked out of the herd.

25/5/09
Claude was very keen to walk some distance with me but had some business to attend to first, so we arranged that he would meet me somewhere on the road when he had done. He dropped me back on the N2 where we met the day before and I set off towards Richards Bay.
I was really looking forward to seeing Francois and Ida Malherbe again. I had first met them in the early days of my journey, at Kleinbrak, where they were on holiday. At the time, Richards Bay still seemed very far away but now, suddenly, I was almost there. I had spoken to Francois two days ago to confirm that they were home and that he would fetch me at the N2 turnoff, as the town is quite some distance off my route.
Claude caught up to me about halfway through the day and Aga, after dropping him off, continued on to Richards Bat to do some shopping. She would pick him up again on her way back.
It was great having someone to chat to while I walked. It took my mind off the boredome of walking along a main road. Along the coast or in the bush there is always something to see or hear, but on a busy highway, the noise and smell of cars and trucks drown out most of the natural sounds and smells. Time passed quickly and before we knew it, we had covered the distance and phoned our respective lifts to pick us up. Francois arrived just a few minutes before Aga and then it was time to say goodbye.
My feet were killing me, and I was glad that tomorrow would be an off day. I still had some distance to go on tar and was worried that my feet would deteriorate to the condition they were in when I had just started in Cape Town. Even though I had been able to walk through the pain at the time, I did not want to ever relive it again. Also, Richards Bay would be the last big town for a long time and I needed to stock up on supplies before tackling Zululand.
Francois had retired recently and they were in the process of moving down to Kleinbrak, so the house was half packed up and boxes were everywhere. So much so that we stayed over at their daughter, Michelle’s, house.

26/5/09
The Malherbes are wonderful, warm people and we share many interests, so we had hours of stimulating conversation and I felt refreshed and full of eagerness to face the challenge ahead.
But Francois and Ida had family coming to stay over and I didn’t want to impose for a second night. Fortunately, I had an alternative. Yzelle’s brother, Gerhard, had phoned me a few days earlier to say that his friend, Albert Driesch, would be happy to put me up for a night on his yacht in the marina. I phoned Albert and he came to fetch me in the afternoon.
Staying on a small yacht was a new experience but at least we were moored safely against a pier and not out on the open sea. Albert and I sat chatting for hours after dinner and when I finally bunked down, it took me a while to get used to the gentle rocking of the yacht and the sounds of fish jumping and water gently splashing against the hull. It gave me time to reflect on the people I have met on the way and how everyone seem to be, in many different ways, so similar to me. People from such varying backgrounds, cultures and beliefs. But wherever I went, I found common values and interests, to which we could relate. Maybe Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder were right after all, in their 80’s song, Ebony and Ivory, saying that “People are the same wherever you go, there is good and bad in everyone”.
Eventually I must have drifted off to sleep, with images of Albert’s photographs of Zululand on my mind. He had surveyed the area a year ago and his photo’s had given me an idea of what to expect, in terms of scenery, at least. Now I was really looking forward to it.

27/5/09
Albert dropped me off on the edge of town and I walked towards the N2, my objective for the day was to get to the KwaMbonambe area and maybe make camp away from the road, in one of the many eucalyptus plantations.
However, I hadn’t even reached the N2 before a car stopped next to me. Irma was on her way to do shopping in Richards Bay and when she heard that I was headed for KwaMbonambe, she was very excited, inviting me to stay over with her family. She would be back there around lunch time and gave me her number so that I could phone when I get there.
Walking on the tar has some advantages, there is more contact with people and I still can’t get used to how many strangers actually know about me and support my quest. One such person, is Johan, who had seen me on the road a few days earlier and then read an article about my walk in the Zululand Observer. He regularly drives between Durban and St Lucia, so when he stopped next to me now, he already had a pie and juice that he had bought in Mtubatuba, hoping that he would meet me along the way. I just can’t get over the generosity of people!
I walked into KwaMbonambe at exactely 16h00 and Irma picked me up at the police station. Their home was on a farm a few kilometres outside of town. There I met her husband, Tokkie, son, Armand, his wife, Chantelle and their baby, Edwin.
Tokkie had attended the recent Mighty Men weekend in Greytown and was very keen to talk about the miracles that he had experienced there. It was so uplifting to hear how he had left his old ways and how God has also changed his life. He was now also leading his whole family on this new Path.

28/5/09
The first part of the road between KwaMbonambe and Mtubatuba was a barefoot dream, concrete in stead of tar. This surface is much kinder to footsoles and I enjoyed the 18km of easy walking. But when the tar began again, it was the worst kind, very rough, with no shoulder to walk on when oncoming traffic approached. It was slow going and painful. The thought that I still had to walk on tar up to Sodwana, was worrying me.
But then, just before I turned into Mtubatuba, Nick, a local businessman, stopped me to ask if I had accommodation for the night. Johnny from Balito had already arranged a place with his friend, Joe Pacheco, in St Lucia, and transport from Mtubatuba with another friend, Marind Scheepers. As Nick and I were chatting, he brought my attention to a group of young men who had also stopped by the road and were walking towards us.
Can you imagine my surprise when I recognised about half of our national cricket team?!
Graeme Smith, Mark Boucher, AB De Villiers, Albie & Morne Morkel, Dale Steyn and Roelof Van Der Merwe. And they wanted to chat to me! Wow, I thought the situation was turned around and I told them as much. If I had known it was them in the minibus, I would have stopped them to have my picture with them. But now THEY wanted photo’s with ME? AB even recorded a short video interview with me on his cell phone! And they are really great guys!
The last two kilometres into Mtubatuba was quick, I was pumped up after my meeting with the Proteas. In town, I knew I had to go to Supaquick, where Marinda worked. From there we went to St Lucia, where Joe’s house is.
Joe was out of town,but he had already arranged that I have dinner at his restaurant. It was great, one of the best pizza’s I’ve ever eaten.

29/5/09
I had decided to try one more time to get permission from Isimangaliso Wetlands Park, to walk along the coast from here, but all the contacts I phoned, could not help me. By the time I had given up, it was too late to get back to Mtubatuba to continue. Marinda and Jacques had already invited me to stay over with them if I needed to spend a second night in St Lucia, so I phoned her to confirm. I had lost a day, but the rest did me a world of good.
30/5/09
Although it was Saturday, Marinda had to go to work in Mtubatuba, as she had to close off the books for month end, so I got a lift with her. Just after we arrived in Mtubatuba, I phoned Hugh, owner of Makhakhatana Lodge, to confirm that I would take his offer to overnight there. He was very disappointed, but they were not going to be there for the weekend. But he helped me much more than that, because as it happened, he was chatting to a friend of his, who was none other than the CEO of Isimangaliso. Andrew Zaloumis was unaware of my application for access through the Park, but he immediately gave me permission to proceed. Not only that, but he even invited to spend the night at his home at Mission Rocks!
Now my dilemma was to get back to St Lucia and Marinda still had to work until noon. But this was not too serious, seeing as Mission Rocks is only 14km from St Lucia. So I waited for Marinda to finish and then we drove back to St Lucia. I said goodbye to her and Jacques and then set off for Mission Rocks. The beach was deserted and beautiful, high dunes with dense vegetation cover, ran all the way up the coast above the beach, as far as the eye could see. It was such a wonderful feeling to be walking in unspoilt natural surroundings again, no other people or vehicles in sight. And sand under my feet!
I covered the distance to mission Rocks in just over two hours and Andrew, his son, Eman, daughter, Georgina and a few of her friends were waiting on the rocks for me. It was Georgie’s eleventh birthday party and up at the house it was a hive of activity with all the girls running, playing, laughing around the yard. Eman also had a friend, Nick, and the two boys had a hard time holding on to their sanity amongst all the girls.
The house is situated on top of some of the highest dunes in the area, almost 200 metres above the surrounding area, facing inland and overlooking the vast flat terrain of Lake St Lucia. The view is breathtaking and the sunset was one of the most spectacular ones I have ever seen.
The birthday party continues deep into the night and Andrew and I found refuge at the fire, talking about nature in general, our individual past experiences and what I could expect to encounter along this stretch of coastline.

31/5/09
After breakfast, Andrew and Tracy drove me and all the kids down to the beach again. Most of the kids wanted to go on the old shortwheel base landrover, but for safety sake, Andrew insisted that we split the load between two vehicles. It was a sight to see, as at Seula, how kids enjoy the simple things when taken into the bush. I am pretty sure that any one of these girls would rather sit down for dental surgery than being dropped at school in an old jeep like this. But here, in the Zululand bush, it was the biggest treat.
Down at the beach, the kids immediately engaged in reconstructing an old deserted fisherman shelter. It was just a rough frame of driftwood and the beach was full of branches and wood that had recently washed up, which they eagerly dragged closer. No fancy toys, no electronic gadgets, just a few pieces of wood and discarded rope. And the genuine fun they were having, was obvious.
They all gathered for a photograph with me and then I set off, everyone waving and shouting best wishes. My target for the day was Cape Vidal, one of the campsites in the Isimangaliso Wetlands Park. Andrew had arranged overnight facilities for me there.
I have been told that the coast starts getting really wild from here and I soon got the message in all the signs around me. The high dunes running parallel to the beach, are covered by dense dune forests and I saw game trails everywhere. Before I had gone two kilometres, I saw the first leopard tracks in the sand. They were clearly defined and fresh. The leopard had come out of the bush, jumped down a 1,5m embankment and then followed the beach for at least three kilometres before turning up into the dunes again. It was a very exciting feeling, knowing that I was walking through real wild bushveld. Bushbuck and mongoose tracks were abundant and I saw more leopard tracks twice during the day. But the most amazing creatures were the hundreds of thousands of goast crabs, running back and forth, from their holes on the beach, to the shelter of the shallow water. As far as the eye could see, was this pink line of crabs. I found them very amusing and they became my constant companions, a continuous source of interest and entertainment. I often caught myself laughing out loud at their antics.
Just as I spotted the Cape Vidal lighthouse high above me, I met a couple walking towards me. It was Dan and Trish Lecordeur, on holiday in the tranquil surrounds of Cape Vidal. It seemed that they were as interested in seeing leopard and just as amused by the crabs. We were going in different directions so I pushed on towards the camp.
Arriving at Cape Vidal, I encountered a hive of activity. It was Sunday afternoon and many of the weekend fishermen were packing up and preparing to go home. I asked the security guard where I could find Leo Frankel, with whom Andrew had arranged my campsite. As we spoke, Leo happened to come driving along. He was slightly sceptical about my mission, but very helpful and friendly, and before long, I was on my way, not to a camp site, but to one of the comfortable log cabins! On our way there, we walked past Dan and Trish’s cabin. They had, by then, returned from their walk, and shouted a dinner invitation to me. We arranged for 19h00, which gave me enough time to shower and relax on the deck of the cabin for a while. My cabin was at the far end of the complex and the bath through the bush was spectacular. Before leaving for dinner, I made sure that I had my little flashlight with me, as it would be pitch dark by the time I return.
Dan is an Anglican minister and Trish a pharmacist from Pietermaritzburg, using every opportunity to get away to the bush. This was their first visit to Cape Vidal. Dan insists on sleeping outside in his hammock, wherever they venture. He says he gets clausterphobic indoors. Trish recons it is because he snores too much. But that is why he doesn’t feel threatened by the resident leopard in the camp, he counters: “My snoring scares the wits out of them!”
Trish’s peri-peri chicken was a winner and with my sinuses scorched clear, we sat chatting until well after 10pm, before I said goodnight and walked back to my cabin. Falling asleep in these tranquil surrounds was a matter of seconds.

1/6/09
Leo had arranged with me to meet him and Selwyn Naidoo at the office at 8h00. I was surprised to see Selwyn waiting for me with a notebook and camera. He wanted to do an article for the Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife newsletter. He and Leo then presented me with an Ezemvelo anorack and with a final few words of advice, they saw me off.
I would have no water until I get to Sodwana, 68km further along the coast, so I filled my waterbottles, a mere 4,5l. That gave me 1,5l per day. Not much, but the third day would be a short one and I calculated that I should get there before noon.
The unspoilt beaches in this area are spectacular and being there all by myself, was soul enriching. The only humans I saw, was Bheki, a huge Zulu anti-poaching officer and his partner. Both carried R5 military rifles and were clearly seasoned bush men.
At Levin point, I made a simple camp on one of the lower dunes above the beach. As always, I made a point of not disturbing the environment. My needs are simple, I would sleep on the sand, make no fire and break no branches. Whatever litter I create, would go back in my bag until I find a proper rubbish bin. My philosophy is “leave no trace”. It gets dark early here in the east and by 18h30 I was in my sleeping bag, staring up at the stars and listening to the little night sounds. Life is good!

2/6/09
Before the sun rose over the Indian ocean, I was up and packed. Boiling a cup of water on my little gas cooker, I sat on the dune, watching the sunrise changing the colours of the sea from dark blue to red, to orange to turquoise. Then I went down to the beach and walked off in the still cool morning air. There was no wind, the tide was low and the sand was firm, so by the time I reached Red Sands, my planned camp for the night, it was only 14h00. It would be senseless for me to sit here all afternoon, so I kept going and just before dark I found a sheltered area amongst some bushes at the foot of the dunes. As I started unpacking my food, I heard a vehicle approaching. It was Selwyn. He was on a beach patrol and decided to see how I was doing. But he also brought me a coke, chocolate bar and 2l of water, just to be safe. Thanks Selwyn!
Again, I enjoyed a clear cool night of star gazing, until I fell asleep.

3/6/09
Another glorious sunrise greeted me as I rolled out of my sleeping bag. There was no rush to get going, as I was only 12km from Sodwana, so I just sat there on the beach, enjoying the scenery, for another half an hour.
Eventually, I got up and started towards Sodwana.
After just more than an hour of walking, I saw a 4x4 approaching. At first I thought it might be a KZN Wildlife patrol, but then it dawned on me that they do not paint their vehicles red. It turned out to be two local residents, Herman and Andre, who had gotten permission from the authorities to scout how I was progressing. It seems that Sodwana had been waiting for me! The whole primary school met us on the beach and after showering me with questions, walked the last 2km to the main beach with me. This was by far the biggest welcoming I’ve had to any town on my journey so far! By the time we arrived in Sodwane, Herman had invited me to stay over at their home, I had lunch sponsored at the Beach Kiosk and had a microlight flight arranged for the next day (a rest day to accommodate a Rapport interview with Gerhard De Bruin)
Sodwana was fast becoming my favourite community!
Herman threw som steaks on the braai, and after a geat dinner, I went to the local christian cell group meeting, where I again had the opportunity to give my testimony.
It was with a feeling of peace and gratitude that I fell asleep after a long chat with Herman, Monica and their daughter, Simone.

From 10 March 2009

2009-05-06T12:23:00.000-07:00

10 March 2009

It was just after eight when Annemie dropped the three of us at Cape St Francis Lighthouse. The sun was shining but there was a cool breeze, it was low tide and we had what seemed to be a nice long stretch of sand ahead of us. Boys were in good spirits and full of energy. It was a proud moment for me and I was thinking of how blessed I am that my two boys could participate and share a small part of this adventure. We set off at a brisk pace and I had to caution them a number of times to save their energy as we still had a long way to go for the day and that we had a number of obstacles ahead of us.

Towards the end of the bay we decided to cut across the dunes, knowing that the coast beyond the point was just behind the dune field. Amongst the dunes we spotted a few sets of otter tracks but at this time of the morning we knew that there was hardly any chance of seeing these shy, playful animals. As we crossed the last dune, the sea was almost directly below us and we realized that we reached our first obstacle sooner than expected.
The spring storms of 2008 had washed away all the sand of the beach and had left only the rounded boulders and smaller rocks below the steep dunes. For the next few kilometers we were forced to make our way slowly and carefully over and around these.
After a number of slips, stumbles and nervous laughs we eventually made it to the Port St Francis Harbour wall. As we entered the complex we came across a humorously desperate or maybe desperately humorous sign posted on the wall next to the entrance. It was quite obvious that vagrants have been leaving their mark on this otherwise pristine and up marked security estate.

Finding our way around the back of the harbour, and through the maze of little dead-end streets proved more difficult than we thought. Despite Duncan’s agility on the treacherous rocks, he ended up twisting his ankle on a perfectly smooth tar road. However, it didn’t seem too serious and soon we reached the coast again, only to be welcomed by even more rocks! We decided to take a break and before we knew it, we had made quite a dent in our supply of daily chocolate snacks. Fearing that we would deplete our whole supply in one go we decided to rather pack up and go on.

Nothing lasts forever, though and after just a few more hundred metres we reached the sandy beach of St Francis Bay. By this time the two teenage appetites required more sustenance than the Provita and cheese wedge lunch could supply, so we decided to head inland for some serious hunter-gatherer survival tactics, making a bee line straight to the rich and endless hunting grounds within the confines of the local SuperSpar. While having our lunch, consisting of an assortment of sandwiches, burgers, sausage rolls, pies, chocolates, potato chips and fruit juice, we tried to get information from the locals regarding the state of the Krom River Mouth. Various sources confirmed that the tide was very high and, at the moment, outgoing. This does not contribute to safe river crossings, so we decided to walk through the village towards the main road where we could cross the river via the bridge, about 1km upriver from the coast.

Walking along the tar was easier for the boys with their shoes than it was for me and it was a relief to descend down to the sand along the river’s edge eventually. From above
we had noticed a tidal area of flat grassy salt marsh but the sand still looked quite firm. As we walked back towards the sea on the edge of the river, we encountered various shallow channels that were only ankle deep in water but where we sank into the mud below, sometimes up to above our knees. This obviously slowed down our progress but seeing as I was walking with two half wild teenage boys, their youthful exuberance soon rubbed off on me and we spent the next hour joking, teasing and laughing until we reached dry ground again. The last few hundred metres to the beach seemed to be quite straight forward and dry. However, as I have learned so many times before, all was not what it had seemed to be.

Very soon we saw a body of water extending towards our left at right angles to where we were headed…another obstacle…a wet one. We could not see the end of this tributary and came to the conclusion that the quickest way to the other side was to make our way straight across. Duncan volunteered to test the depth and managed to walk through, but at the deepest point he had to tilt his head backwards to keep his nose above the water level. This meant that we could carry our bags above our head and would not need to wrap them up in plastic and float them through. As Philip is still a head shorter than Duncan and I, he would have to swim. Duncan volunteered to go back and bring his brother’s bag for him. By the time we had all reached the safety of the opposite bank, our laughing had reached hysterical levels.

Time was not standing still and the obstacles that we had encountered meant that we would have to start pushing to make it to Aston Bay but by late afternoon we soon noticed that the banks ahead of us was becoming too steep and overgrown to walk along it, so we took a small gravel road that seemed to be heading towards the coast, parallel to the river. The going was quite easy until we reached the last property where we encountered a high wall and two fences barring our way. At first we decided to climb the fence and make our way down the dune through dense bushes. However the dense bush turned out to be denser than we thought and after twenty minutes of crawling, climbing, falling and getting scratched, we had only progressed as many metres. At this point we came to the unanimous conclusion that backtracking might be a better idea. Back at the fence we saw that if we climb the second fence there might be an easier way down to the beach. This turned out to be a much better choice and within minutes we were back on the beach. With all the time we had lost stumbling over rocks, detouring across the bridge, waddling through the salt marsh, spluttering through the tributary and crawling through the bush it was already almost 4pm and high tide. Spring high tide around here meant that we had to walk right at the top of the beach, in the soft deep sands at the foot of the dunes. This is not conducive to fast walking and the morning’s brisk pace seemed very far in the distant past.

Eventually we could see the first houses of Paradise Beach which was a great relief although it seemed like an eternity before we finally got there. While the boys collapsed onto a bench on the beach, I phoned my uncle, Christo, to change the planned pick up rendezvous. When he arrived, we were only about 4km short of our target for the day and taking into consideration the toughness of the terrain, I was extremely proud of my two young men. We were going to spend the night at my aunt Miranda’s home in Jeffreys Bay and Christo offered to take us all out for dinner. So we all, Christo, aunt Miranda, cousin Mika, Duncan, Philip III and myself enjoyed a fun family outing at the Spur in J-Bay.

11 March 2009

I had originally planned to take a day off in Jeffreys Bay but now decided to rather split the next leg in into two half days. The boys were knackered and Duncan had some arrangements to make to get back to the Tsitsikamma as he had commitments to fulfill there. My plan was now to walk from Paradise Beach to Super Tubes in Jeffreys Bay. Again the tide was low, the beach was open and firm and walking was good. By just after nine I reached the main beach where Albie from the Hour Times, the local news paper, met me for the interview that we had scheduled the day before. As we made our acquaintance, a young man dressed in khaki came up to me and introduced himself as Guillaume. It turned out that he and his lady friend Enora were also on a long distance spiritual hike. We arranged to meet back there to chat as soon as Albie and I had finished our interview at Café Kima. The interview was informal, jovial and the cheesecake was to die for! Soon we were back at the beach to meet Guillaume and Enora and by now Albie’s journalist instincts had picked up another good story. It turns out that the French couples had set off from Cape Point a few weeks before and were headed for Jerusalem. Yes, Jerusalem the Holy City. According to them they had grown up together in an environment where religion was not practiced but that they, in his words, “both felt a burning need to experience something beyond our mundane existence”. So their mission is to find God in people. We had a very intense and uplifting conversation and I experienced, yet again, the profound presence of the Lord as He gave me the answers to their questions.

Eventually after almost two hours, the time came to bid each other fare well and go our separate ways. I do not know whether I would ever find out what the outcome of their journey would be as they do not carry any means of communication with them but I did give them my contact details and I am hoping that they would somehow let me know.

From here it was a relatively short walk to Super Tubes where I met an old friend, Tara Smith and her dad Tyronne who owned a guest house on the beach front. Christo was to meet me at Super Tubes to take me back to Aunt Miranda’s house, but as Tara was heading into town, she offered to give me a lift there. Shortly after, Christo picked me up and on our way home he bought a mountain of take away’s, which we devoured in no time. Christo, Aunt Miranda (my dad’s other sister), and I spend the evening recalling some of the old family tales while Duncan, Philip III and Mika chatted about teenager stuff. I couldn’t resist reminding Duncan not to get too cheeky with Mika, because, even though she is only a few months older than him, she is MY cousin, not his(so she is actually his AUNT)!

12 March 2009
As I had decided to rather split one day’s walk in two, in stead of taking a whole day off, I only had a short distance to do today. Duncan had commitments back in Stormsriver, so I arranged a lift back for him, with Andre, who had visited his lady, Donnay, in J’bay. Philip is on home schooling and did not have to get back home immediately, which meant that he could join me for a few more days.

We set off from Super Tubes at 2pm and at Kabeljouws River, we met another favourite uncle and aunt of mine (well, they are all favourite uncles and aunts!), Oom Gideon and Tannie Wenda, who came to say good bye.

The rest of the day was an easy walk and we made camp amongst the dunes in a hollow between two small dunes. While Philip collected some more driftwood for the fire, I started getting dinner together. We noticed some loose clouds approaching from the west, but no reason for concern. However, soon after dark, they turned black, blocking out the full moon and, within minutes, the first drops plopped down on the sand around us. Our hastily erected bivvy proved sufficient to keep us dry, but with two of us hiding under it, my space was rather cramped and I had a restless night, waking up in the early hours of the morning, stiff and sore from sleeping in the same curled up position for hours.

13 March 2009
Breaking up camp was a quick matter and after a cup of instant oats each, we were ready for the day. Soon, two other early morning walkers came into view ahead of us and subconsciously we sped up to catch them. So, without realizing it, we covered a lot of ground in a short time. Just before the mouth of the Gamtoos river, we caught up to the middle aged couple and it was only 10am.

Reaching the mouth, we saw why locals had warned us about the Gamtoos. The tide was going out and the current was flowing fast, churning up the sand and making it almost impossible to even walk in the shallow parts of the river. We decided to wait a while and let the tide run out. Low tide, and just after the turning of the tide, is always the safest and easiest time to cross a river mouth. I calculated that we had about an hour and a half to wait, so we started depleting the last of our small chocolate bars. But sson we got bored and Philip agreed to attempt the crossing anyway. We put our packs in the big plastic survival bag and waded into the current, along the longest of the sand bars. Philip was holding onto the bag, on the upstream side and I was guiding us along on the downstream side of the bag. Taking the current into consideration, we had started off about a hundred metres above the mouth, knowing that we would get dragged along by the seaward flow. The swim proved to be relatively easy and in minutes we were dragging ourselves up the steep eastern bank. It was another proud moment for me, as Philip had just successfully executed his first real river crossing! He was laughing that familiar nervous post-stress giggle that I have experienced so many times in the past, after realizing that you have just succeeded in doing something that might easily have turned out bad. It is one of those rare moments where you cannot quite make up your mind whether you are elated or scared, or just plain relieved. Those who have never experienced this sensation, would not know how it feels and how addictive it can be, but they are surely poorer for it. Sadly.

The rest of the afternoon faded into obscurity in comparison. Philip could speak of nothing else and I enjoyed sharing it with him. The only bit of excitement after that, was the slog through the dune field after popping in at the small shop in the village.

As a precaution, we built a nice, sheltered, well anchored bivvy for the night. That was just to ensure, of course, that there would be NO rain at all. And so it was. Philip collected some sand clams which I boiled and then lightly fried in the bottom of the little saucepan. Food for kings!

14 March 2009

Today would be our last day together, but it is a special day. I was only 4.4km short of my first 1000km and Philip would be there to share this special milestone with me. We both commented on how great it would have been if Duncan could also have been there.

In less than 45 minutes, we had the required distance covered and took some photographs to celebrate. I knew that 1000km was still just a fraction of the total distance of my journey, but to me, it was an achievement none the less. One down, only six to go! OUCH!

At Van Stadens Mouth, we bought some cold drinks and pushed on towards Sea View, where Philip’s mother, Renette, would meet us to take my young man home. It was an emotional parting as I said good bye to my youngest, but he left behind a proud father. I am sure that many fathers can honestly say that they are proud of their sons, but I am privileged to be able to say this, about both my sons, in this very public way, to so many people! Well done both of you, my Boyz, I am proud of you and I love you very, very much!

I still had some distance to go for the day, though, and it was already dark by the time I reached Sardinia Bay and made a hungry, dry camp in the dunes above the bathing area. The beach was deserted by the time I got there, but around 10pm, two cars arrived with some late night revelers. The comforting sound of waves breaking, was shattered by the noise of revving engines, spinning tyres and excited shrieking of drunk people. Fortunately they had no audience and they got bored of it soon. So, as noisily as they had arrived, they made their welcome exit and I could settle down to sleep.

15 March 2009

It was an early start for me, as I had an appointment with some old acquaintances from the Mountain Club of SA at Pollock Beach in PE. Rob MacGeoghegan and John Best had arranged to walk into Port Elizabeth with me and had also organized accommodation for me in the city. Deon Ferreira, photographer of Die Burger, was also there to cover my arrival in the Friendly City. John was the head of Disaster Management in 2000 and co-ordinated the rescue mission during the Stormsriver tragedy. Rob was in charge of the actual search and rescue in the Gorge. Another major role-player, Theo Meyer, was to meet us at Shark Rock Pier. Theo was the senior SA Police helicopter pilot during the rescue. It was a very happy reunion and the first time since the accident that I met John and Theo again. By the time we had passed the Humewood flea market, I started wondering where this “overnight accommodation” that they had arranged, was, but John just smiled when I asked him. Suddenly my companions took a left turn and my stomach turned. I had lived in PE long enough to know that The Paxton is amongst the smartest hotels in the Eastern Cape! My first question to John and Rob was: “Do these people know what to expect?” I had not washed in four days and had been wearing the same clothes for about six days.

However, the first thing I noticed in the foyer, was a big Welcome signboard, saying “The Paxton welcomes Mr Swart”. Wow! I experienced about the same sense of belonging as a fart in a perfume factory, but not for long. The staff didn’t blink an eye at my appearance (or aroma) and instantly made me feel welcome. Although the first comment was to go and get comfortable in my suite, get the weight off my back and … enjoy a hot bath or shower. Admittedly, I needed no second invitation and made my way up to my luxury suite.

When I came down again, about half an hour later, Rob was waiting for me and introduced me to Cornelia from Die Burger. She interviewed me for over an hour but it was more like a long casual conversation and eventually she went back to her office to write, with a promise that she would not sensationalize the events around the 2000 accident. It is very important to me that the feelings of the survivors, as well as families of those who had lost their lives, be respected.

The comfort of the hotel was so relaxing that I fell asleep early and, boy, did I sleep!

16 March 2000

As I entered the breakfast room of The Paxton, Anton, the manager, greeted me with a hearty “Good morning, did you see you made the front page?!” Yip, there it was, front page of Die Burger, and a very well written, sensitive article.

After a good, hearty breakfast, I got my stuff together and said goodbye to Anton and his very friendly and sincerely professional staff. Walking through the early morning traffic in PE reminded me of my very first day in Cape Town. Me, barefoot with shorts and a backpack, with just about everyone else off to work or business, looking rushed and stressed. It was a great feeling!

By the time I had walked through the city, most of the day’s walk was done. My destination was Blue Water Bay, just across the Swartkops River, where Jokl and Charlene Le Roux had invited me to stay over. Their hospitality exceeded the offer of a bed and dinner. I had hardly put my pack down, or my dirty clothes were in the washing machine! I was a bit self conscious, because my shorts had a tear on the back, but Charlene is a super seamstress and in no time, my worn looking shorts were as new. Jokl fried cob and I love fried cob!

17 March 2009

From Blue Water Bay, it was a short, easy walk to the Coega Harbour Project.This is a restricted security zone, as major heavy construction is still on the go, but Rob MacGeoghegan had already made a plan for me. He is involved in safety training for construction workers at the project and had arranged with the Head of Security, Marius Groenewald, to escort me through the site.

When I got to the security fence, I phoned Marius and within minutes, we were on our way through the harbour. It is a big site, VERY BIG! At the far end, Marius asked whether I would mind if he prayed for me. It was a moving moment and when we opened our eyes, they were moist.

The prayer gave me new strength and I needed all of it. The wind had picked up to gale force, the beach had no more sand left, just a jumble of loose rocks and it looked like rain.

By early afternoon I was nearing the Sundays River mouth and I was honestly in no mood for a swim. I also knew that to get back to Colchester, where I was planning to fill up my water bottles, I would have to walk back from the mouth for almost 5km. So, instead, I took a sandy jeep track up to the N2, crossed the Sundays River and turned off to Colchester.

Just as I took the turn-off, I received a message from Jokl, saying that he had accommodation in Boknes for me with relatives of a friend. Great news, the goodwill just keeps rolling in!

For the moment, though, my prospects for tonight looked less than perfect. Camping in the caravan park was not a bad idea, but it was cold, the rain clouds were getting dark and I was not really looking forward to sleeping under just a plastic sheet in a rain storm. But then, once again, I experienced God’s love and power.

A car pulled up from behind, a man’s voice asked whether I was the barefoot guy. When I said yes, he asked where I was planning to stay over. When I told him, he asked what I thought of spending the night at a game lodge, all inclusive, I think you could guess my answer. Peter en Jenny Bean are the owners of Scotia Game Reserve just outside Colchester.

Once on the reserve, Peter drove me straight to the nearest game drive vehicle, where the ranger, Nick, had just spotted two white rhino’s. Peter and I got out of his vehicle and approached on foot. It was a moment I cannot describe, being so close to these great animals.

Once on Nick’s vehicle, we continued on the drive, had sundowners (Amarula and biltong) and watched a majestic sunset. Back at the main boma, I was treated to a scrumtuous meal, including kudu potjie! Peter also introduced me to his other guests and gave me the opportunity to tell them my story. The response was overwhelming and I spent most of the rest of the evening chatting to some of the tourists, but especially to Lloyd, one of the other rangers, who is also a devout Christian and also a walker. He had walked from the Transkei to Jeffrey’s Bay with hardly any gear, some time ago because, as he put it, “God told me to”. It was a turning point in his life.This was an intense and unmistakable confirmation to me that Lloyd and I had been brought together. I knew without doubt that it was God’s message to me, that I was doing the right thing for the right reason.

Back at my suite, I enjoyed a hot shower and reflected on how effortlessly God could change our fortunes if it pleases Him. One moment I had no better prospect than camping in the rain in a caravan park and the next moment I was being treated as a welcome guest at a beautiful lodge, with dinner, shower and warm bed at my disposal. Life is a gift from God and if we live it for Him, He shows Himself as a loving, generous Father.

18 March 2009

It was still early when Nick picked us up for the morning’s pre-breakfast game drive. The lions had been spotted and we headed straight there. The animals at Scotia are truly wild, free ranging and well adapted. The lions had not been seen in days and everyone was excited at the chance to see them. And wow, what a sighting! We spent a good hour watching the two males and female lazing about. Then, a passing warthog caught their attention. The female started stalking and we tensed up in anticipation. But the warthog was moving across the wind and eventually caught a whiff of lion odor. The moment of surprise was lost to the predator and she immediately lost interest. The warthog jogged away stiffly, his mane erect. This is Africa, and it is wild. We were not in a zoo. It is also not a wildlife documentary where the hunter always gets his prey. We did not get to witness a kill. But it was a wild moment. It was a moment of awareness, our own hunter’s instincts awakened. I felt alive, I was happy. There are still places where things go on as they have for millions of years. It was good.

After a late breakfast, another ranger, Nicky, gave me a lift back to Colchester. And there I met Mari and Katrina, the two ladies I had heard about, walking from Port Nolloth to Kosi Bay. They were taking an off day in Colchester and had just come to the shop when they spotted me, put backpack and bare feet together, and got kaalvoetsolo. We had a short but warm chat but then I had to get going, it was already past noon!

I managed to make 25km in the half a day that I had left and made camp in the dunes. I had misread my map and realized that my next watering point was two days away, not one, as I had thought. So I had about 250ml of water left that had to last me until the next evening.

19 March 2009

I started early, everything full of sand. During the night, the wind had picked up and blew fine particles into my backpack, sleeping bag, ears, nostrils, eyes, hair, beard and other places best not mentioned. I was a mess, but I just had to see the day through. It was a long, miserable day, but my experience with Lloyd had strengthened my faith and I ended up laughing at my own state as I walked. I even started composing a song for Yzelle!

By late afternoon I arrived at the hiking trail hut on the Alexandria trail. My first stop was the rain water tank. My second stop was the rainwater tank, again. Amazing how tasty water can be. I had no craving for cold drinks, coffee or any other liquid. Just water. And it tasted great! It also meant that I could eat, as all my food is dehydrated trail food and without water, I also could not eat. But now all was fine again. We really need so little to get along with. A bowl of two minute noodles and a verandah to sleep under were all I needed. And I was happy. Not just OK, but HAPPY!

20 March 2009

The walk from the hut to Boknes was easy and uneventful. Louise and Hennie welcomed me as if we had known each other for years. They had retired here recently here and were enjoying the uncomplicated, simple lifestyle that they had chosen for themselves. It felt like I was with family, although I had never met them before.

21 March 2009

Louise suggested that I spend a second night with them, as Kenton-on-Sea is not far away and they could easily fetch me there. I needed no prompting and accepted. The walk there was beautiful and I met quite a few great people on the way, including Bruce, Kate and the kids, who offered me a lift across the Bushman’s River in their boat.

22 March 2009

The day’s walk started with a swim across the Kariega River. Compared to previous crossings, it was easy and quick. But the tide was coming in fast and soon after, I was walking in the soft sand, straight into a strong north-easterly wind. Port Alfred seemed very far and my progress was excruciatingly slow. But even slow days come to an end and when I reached the first houses, I phoned Hennie Marais, my newspaper contact who had arranged super accommodation at Chan Kahn’s guesthouse, River’s Edge. Hennie took me for pizza at Guido’s, on the house! Bret, the manager, was very interested in my story and then shared with us, their family’s recent experience when his brother had a near death encounter. He also confirmed that they all saw God’s hand in his brother’s recovery and that it had changed their lives for the better.

23 March 2009

On the afternoon of my rest day, I was interviewed by Hennie, for Talk of the Town, the local newspaper, as well as by David Macgregor of the Daily Dispatch of East London. They both had contacts further upthe coast and set out to contact them on my behalf. I still find it hard to believe how keen complete strangers are to assist me.

Mari and Katrina were now on my heels and arrived later in the day. When Chan heard about them, he insisted that I phone them to invite them to stay over at his guesthouse too. They were more than thankful and we all shared in a most awesome chicken curry dinner, specially prepared by Chan’s friend Danny.

24 March 2009

Port Alfred had been good to me and it was hard to leave, but I had to keep going, so I set off from the eastern bank of the Cowie River and headed for Kleinemonde, where David and Hennie’s friend, Lloyd Gillespie offered me a place for the night. I found that Lloyd and I have a lot in common.

He is planning a similar expedition, along the same route, but starting and ending in Durban. But he would be riding horses, to raise awareness for African Horse Sickness. We immediately connected and chatted all night, through dinner with his girlfriend, Isabel and their friend Gaya, until late.

25 March 2009

By the time we reached the beach at where Lloyd was to drop me off, we had already decided that he was to walk with me up to the Fish River mouth, from where he would find his way back to Kleinemonde. I was glad to have him along and on the way we discussed our individual adventures on a more personal and spiritual level. Lloyd has had this dream for many years. He had decided to link it to the horse sickness project but has found that the formalities and other protocol, that comes with the package, seem to be getting in the way of his heart. I had been through the same and could identify with his concerns. By the time we reached the Fish, I could sense that he had more clarity on how he wants to go about his mission. It is always stimulating to connect with a soulmate, and that is what I had found in Lloyd (and quite a few other people I had met so far).

To get across the Fish, I could either walk up to the bridge on the N2, or swim through the mouth. But now a third option presented itself, in the form of Robert and his brother, Welcome. They are local subsistence fishermen and they use a small, ancient dinghy to get to the best angling spots. Without asking for remuneration, Welcome agreed to take me across and when I offered him R20, he was ecstatic. So within minutes after I had said goodbye to Lloyd, I was off again.

Just before I got to Mpekweni Sun hotel, Lloyd phoned me. He had already arranged with a friend of a friend at Mgwalana, Sydney Walters, for accommodation. The Network just keeps spreading! Syd and his wife, Susan, had also retired here and their house was nearly completed. Syd had built it all by himself and is now just adding a few minor trimmings. They are “real people”, no frills and pretences, so I immediately felt at home.

It was a relief to be in a friendly environment, because today was an emotional day for me. It was exactly nine years since The Accident.

26 March 2009

I woke up early, it was my “second birthday” today. Nine years ago, today, I was rescued out of the Stormsriver, it was the beginning of my new life.

After breakfast, Syd and Susan joined me for their morning walk. Susan turned around at an old wreck on the beach, but Syd walked with me up to Birha, a small village, consisting mostly of holiday houses. After he had turned back, I decided to take a break. A few weeks before, I had stepped in a thorn and now, for the last few days, I had been experiencing pain and throbbing just in front of my left heel. Now, as I sat, resting, I took my pocket knife and started digging. Immediately, as I pierced the thick skin, puss spurted out, like an eruption. The tip of the old thorn came out soon after. I worked some antiseptic into the cavity and stuck a plaster over it.

But I was feeling down and strangely lethargic, as if I just couldn’t get myself to put my pack on and walk again. It bothered me, because I was afraid that I might be losing my motivation. Knowing myself and easily I get bored, I realized that I could not rely on my own strength to complete this adventure. Now it also occurred to me that it would be foolish to think that I could drive myself to keep going. So I decided to take the day off to pray. There was hardly anyone around so I had enough quiet time. By late afternoon, my spirits were rising and I felt much better. Again, I was reminded that the motivation behind this mission, came from God, not from me, myself. My own strength would never be enough to succeed. I had known this from the start, but we all need some reminding, from time to time. So now, with my spiritual batteries recharged, I felt rejuvenated again and prepared my camp for the night, ready for tomorrow.

27 March 2009

The walk to Hamburg was easy enough and with my new-found strength, I reached it by mid afternoon. As I was making myself comfortable in the campsite next to the wide estuary of the Keiskamma River, Hennie Marais from Port Alfred, phoned me to ask how I was doing. Through Dave Macgregor, he had found a possible contact for me in Hamburg. But he did not have a contact number and suggested that I make enquiries at the local police station or restaurant. I knew the restaurant was within the caravan park, only a hundred metres from where I was. The first person I encountered there, was Barend Botha. Yes, of course he knew the people, but he also knew that they were away for the weekend. No problem, my camp was sheltered and I didn’t mind camping. However, Barend was not going to leave it at that. After a brief consultation with his wife, Jillian, he insisted that I stay over with them. Yet another intervention. I did not doubt God’s power anymore, but I still find it amazing.

Barend’s friend, Henk, owns a boat on the river and he offered to ferry me across the next morning. He also told me that he had been approached by two lady hikers for a lift. I knew it was Mari and Katrina. So we would meet again.

28 March 2009

By 8am, Henk and I were releasing the boat’s moorings. We were to meet the ladies further down, near the slipway and they were right on time. Henk’s boat, like himself and his dogs, is a character. Only Henk knew how to coax its engine alive and how to maneuver its simple’ modified controls.

The Ladies and I agreed to walk together for the day. My objective was Kidd’s Beach, their’s only 5km closer, at Palm Springs. We had been warned about the Chalumna river but when we got there, it was low tide and although the current was fast and strong, we managed to wade through waist deep. From there, it was a short walk to Seavale, a private security village that had a little shop. But they had no Topper biscuits, a cheap, tasty treat that I had developed a constant craving for. So I just bought a slab of chocolate and a cold drink.

At Palm Springs, Mari and Katrina turned of and I continued. Barend had arranged with his cousin, Boetie, for accommodation, but Boetie was only going to be home later in the evening. I waited for him at the tidal pools where I met Jill and Kevin. We had a long and pleasant conversation. By 8pm, Boetie phoned to say he was on his way. I saw a group of people having dinner at the restaurant, watching me. That was nothing new, but when Boetie arrived, he introduced me to them. Malcolm is the owner of Breeze Inn guesthouse, just around the corner and Boetie had quickly arranged with him to put me up. We ended up having a deep philosophical and spiritual discussion until 3am.

29 March 2009

Malcolm asked me to contact the Ladies to invite them for breakfast and they joined us on their way past. After saying good bye to Kidd’s Beach, we continued together again. On the way to Cove Rock, they reached their 1400km mark.

I had briefly met Vincent Scheffer at Colchester and he had kept contact. Now I was invited to spend the night with him and his wife, Linda. He advised me to take the R72 through East London, in stead of walking along the beach from there. A number of serious assaults have taken place there recently, including the incident where he himself, was attacked and as a result, was now blind in his one eye. I decided to take his advice. Mari and Katrina were picked up by friends where they were to spend the night.

30/31 March 2009

Vince dropped me, back at the main road, on his way to school (he is a teacher) and for the first time in a while, I was walking on tar again. Getting through East London was easy enough. But not before I had two more meaningful personal encounters on the way. As I was walking past a big car dealership in Fleet Street, someone called out to me. Antony is a car salesman and had seen a newspaper article about my walk. He gave me some apples, cold water and a great motivational chat. But, again, that was not all (it sounds like a Verimark ad), he had old friends on the Wild Coast and phoned them immediately. Now I had accommodation outside Coffee Bay too!

Further down Fleet Street, I met Jan Smit, a city councilor, who also had friends along the coast. Before I knew it, I had a contact at Kei Mouth too! Incredible!

But, like the Verimark ads, this was still not all! By the time I had reached Eastern Beach, Vince phoned to give me details of HIS friends, Dalecia and Ewie, in Gonubie. They own a guesthouse, Sandpiper, and had agreed to put me up. I was to spend two nights here, as I needed to take an off day to rest and do gear maintenance before tackling the Wild Coast.

1 April 2009

It was chilly and a slow drizzle gave the whole area a grey look. The tide was high and when the life guards at Gonubie beach advised me not to swim the mouth, I didn’t argue too much. There was a small restaurant above the beach and I sat down for a cup of coffee. The Daily Dispatch ran a very contentious article about a controversial politician’s plans to build a multi-million rand mansion in a nearby nature reserve, without regard for environmental sensitivity or building regulations, and of course, using tax payer’s money! Because I am an incurable practical joker myself, I was very aware of the date, and had great fun listening to the outraged reactions of some of the local regulars at the restaurant.

By 11am, I was happy to see that the river level had dropped considerably and I managed to wade through chest deep, with my back on my head.

By 4pm, I realized that I was not going to make it to Chintsa before dark, but as I was walking past the small settlement of Glengariff, I heard someone calling after me. Steve and Mary San Filippo had left their home in the USA to retire here, a few years ago. They were very interested in my story and Steve even made a video recording of my testimony. And then we had real Mexican food, made by Steve. What a treat!

Note to readers: Due to logistical difficulties, I will have to condense the next few weeks in this blog. It has been very difficult for me to keep it up to date and I apologise for this. But we have now devised a new plan and once I have caught up, it should be easier.

2/4/09
Belt strap of backpack broke at Chintsa, did temporary repair. Difficult, rocky terrain between Cape Henderson and Pullen’s Bay. Stayed over with Mike and Neil Arnold at Pullen’s Bay.

3/4/09
Easy walk from Haga Haga to Kei Mouth, no obstacles. Stayed over with Oom Ras and Tannie Johel Van Den Bergh, had dinner at Green Lantern.
4/4/09
Complementary breakfast at Green Lantern. Thank you, Reg, Synette and Jordan! Crossed Great Kei River per ferry, encountered first cattle on the beach (a very common phenomenon in Transkei)
Waded through Mbokotwana, Khobonqaba and Nxaxo rivers. Camped beyond Wavecrest Hotel.

5/4/09
Easy walk to Mazeppa Bay, stayed over in chalet at Mazeppa Hotel.

6/4/09
Slow, varied terrain between Mazeppa and Nqabarha river. Camped in dense bush, had rain overnight.

7/4/09
Swam Nqabarha river early in morning. Invited for breakfast with Craig and Belinda Lindhorst.
Past 1500km mark at Mendu Point.
Nearly got swept out to sea by killer current while swimming across Mbashe mouth. Got big fright because I’ve never been much of a swimmer and still have many such crossings ahead of me.
Stayed at The Haven Hotel, arranged by Lloyd Gillespie. Royal treatment. Thanks to Mike (manager) and all staff, also Scott, Leon, Lizette, Neil, David, Libby and Gavin.

8/4/09
Easy, pleasant walk in morning, but into strong wind from noon. Reached Xhora river just before high tide. No sign of ferry, waited, but eventually had to swim, AGAIN strong current but fortunately narrow mouth.
Stayed over at delightful Bulungula Community Backpackers. Met old friends Daniel and Anna, TOTAL surprise!
Thanks to Dave and Albert

9/4/09
Terrain changed from flat sand beaches to high cliffs with detours around and steep paths up and down. Awesome scenery! Swam Mpako mouth easily without backpack, as Kobus Botha offered to ferry it across on his kayak. Thanks Kobus!
Hole-in-the-Wall is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen in my life! GO VISIT IF YOU CAN!!!
Walk along 6km of gravel to Raptor’s View was taxing, but worthwhile. Spud and Delene Murray are super people! Thank you, MaXhosini! My Barefoot t-shirt is in Spud’s pub, an amazing spot!
Met Philip and ER from YOU magazine for interview.

10/4/09
Photo session back at Hole-in-the-Wall for YOU article, then short stretch to Coffee Bay, arrived in rain at Coffee Shack, one of the best backpackers on the Wild Coast. Thank you Belinda and Dave! Met Daniel and Anna AGAIN!

11/4/09
Started day with long, steep climb, endless detour around deep gorge and that set the stage for the day. Walked 26km, only made 12km progress along route.
Caught first community ferry across Mthatha mouth for R7 (it cost me R20 because ferrymen NEVER have change… and neither did I.) But thanks to Sipho who did the rowing!
Stopped at Mdumbi Backpackers for water, got bread and coffee on the house! Thanks Tony, Lusanda and Astrid!
Camped under red milkwoods on top of sand dune just before Mdumbi river. Beautiful spot!

12/4/09
Second community ferry across Mdumbi mouth in strong outgoing tide. Kiki also didn’t have change and I still had none either, so another R20 gone. (but I couldn’t wait 4 hours for the tide to go out and my attempts to wade through waist deep brought me nothing but a few mouths full of salt water)
At the Mtakatye mouth I was fortunate to meet Joe with his rubberduck, because I had run out of R20 notes.
Got strong south-westerly wind in afternoon, black rain clouds racing over me.
Found shelter under verandah of holiday house at Hluleka.
Was treated to dinner by Gerhardus and Sarina, also sandwiches and cold drink from Ivan. Thanks to you all!

13/4/09
Slow, up and down climbs to Mpande village, scenery still indescribably beautiful.
Met Henry and Rebecca on beach, took their advice to stay at Mama Winnefred’s Village Based Accommodation. Real traditional huts , food and friendly hospitality. Mama W’s sons, Anton, Sam and Allan even treated me to Xhosa lessons to improve my rudimentary vocabulary. More than just an overnight stay, a HIGHLY RECOMMENDED EXPERIENCE!

14/4/09

Same mountainous terrain as previous days. Slow going but views and lush valley forests made it worth while. Brazen Head is one of the highest points on this coast, at 239m above sea level.
Had sufficient change (changed last money at Mpande) for ferry across Umngazana river. Thanks Lewis!
Camped in small valley just past Umngazi river, feasted on fruits of num-num shrub (Carissa macrocarpa). My own food was finished four days ago.

15/4/09
Was looking forward to relatively tame Port St Johns where I could find an ATM and shops, I NEEDED FOOD!
But 5km short of PSJ, as I was walking along Second Beach, I noticed a tall figure with a grey beard, wearing only a sarong wrapped around his waist and an old leather hat. (just about all that I was wearing as well). But I immediately knew who this man was. Ben Dekker is a legend and one of my childhood movie hero’s! At 67, he has been living a simple life here for the last 28 years. Oom Ben is an eccentric, highly educated philosopher, artist, ecologist and story teller with a well of knowledge of edible and medicinal plants. And he invited me to stay over in one of his guest cottages! I wish I could have stayed longer but one night was all I could allow myself. This is one of the top highlights of my walk, so far. Thank you, Oom Ben, and go well, I’ll be back!

16/4/09
Walked to PSJ to replenish supplies and meet up with the family of my old friends, Phindile Siko and Nzuzo Nkili. Phindile’s mom, Phyllis had invited me to spend a night with them in their village, Caguba. His brother, Clifford took me there. What awesome people! Thank you, so much, everyone!

17/4/09
Clifford dropped me off in PSJ after breakfast and I caught municipal ferry across the Mzimvubu river (biggest river in the area, about 400m wide). Ferry was free but had to wait for minimum of 10 passengers.
Swam through Mntafufu mouth at high tide, camped in lapa of deserted holiday house in forest next to mangrove swamp. Millions of mosquitos!

18/4/09
Early start, coffee with Bongani at Drifters’ Trail Camp at Manteku, then on to Cutweni, camped in saddle between two hills. Hot and humid, with even more mozzies than Mntafufu!

19/4/09
Coastal cliffs and deep gorges forced me inland, up to Luputhana gorge, then back to coast. Much flatter, easier terrain from there to Lambasi Bay.
Camped next to river. Hastily had to erect shelter against rain.

20/4/09
Easy terrain but made slow progress, was feeling weak and rested often. Met Lance, Oliver and Sarah at Strandloper Falls, above Mkambathi mouth. Lance gave me coke and three packets of his special trail food mix. Thanks!
Reached Mthentu mouth (at high tide of course) late afternoon. Felt like crying, mouth very wide and it started to rain. Still very weak, no choice but to swim. Collapsed on sand bar, exhausted but still had to climb around rocky ridge to get out of river. Found deserted camp site with thatched lapa, at least I had shelter and some dry wood for fire.
Suddenly heard someone calling my name. It was Zirk, part of production company filming in area. Had heard about me from Lance, came to look for me. Will contact me shortly for possible documentary. At least some good news on this dreary day!

21/4/09
Woke up weaker and with headache, suspecting flu. Still raining but pushed on. Target for the day was Mzamba river, map showed campsite there, hoping for some decent shelter, condition not good. Mzamba was bigger than I thought, ANOTHER swim. As I reached the far bank, rain started pouring down. Headed for “camp” but found it all but destroyed, NO SHELTER! Just took time to put on fleece and rain jacket and wrap sarong around my waist. Started walking on without a plan. Could see houses far away along the coast, could only be Port Edward.
Had to go to tar road to get to bridge across Mthamvuna river into KwaZulu Natal. Entered Port Edward in pouring rain, almost dark. Wandering around streets, saw sign to Methodist Church. There was a light on! Hazel offered me shelter under verandah until their meeting was over, also brought me coffee. Then she and Wessel arranged with Andre Van Zyl to open church hall for me and offered me a room with hot shower in the complex. Hazel then went and bought me food! It was so clear how God’s Hand has lead me to the church and provided a warm dry place through these gracious people. Praise The Lord!

22/4/09
In the mean time, Yzelle and her family had started phoning friends and acquaintances, and got hold of Oom Jan and Tannie Lorraine Terblans who lived nearby. They were more than willing to put me up for another night and even do my laundry for me! Wonderful people!
But my father-in-law-to-be had more surprises for me. He had arranged a lift for me from Durban to their home in Ermelo the next day. They all wanted to see me. Another God-send.
I was still feeling sick and started suspecting that the little sore under my left arm might be a spider bite. My glands were swollen and painful, and had woken up during the night, cold but sweating profusely.
Oom Jan took me to the Port Edward taxi rank where I caught a taxi to Port Shepstone. From there, I took another taxi to Durban, then walked through city to the bus terminal to get a bus to Ridge Road where Ettienne, a friend of my Yzelle’s Dad, met me. We drove up to his home in Newcastle, Where Oom Jurie and Yzelle fetched me. She was shocked at my scrawny state (or maybe it was the beard), but overjoyed to see me. I had lost 13kg since leaving Cape Town and was now weighing only 69kg.
We had hardly walked into the Kotze’s home in Ermelo, or Yzelle and Tannie Yvonne started feeding me!
Yzelle’s uncle, Dr Koos Naude, has a medical practice in Carolina, the neighbouring town and he diagnosed the bite under my arm as a tick bite! He immediately prescribed antibiotics.

23/4 – 5/5/09
I am officially on sick leave but feeling MUCH better and I have also regained some of the lost weight.
But I can’t rest forever, so tomorrow I will have to start getting back to Port Edward to resume my walk.

5 March 2009

2009-04-20T07:16:00.000-07:00

Andre took me down to Stormsriver Mouth, once again, to resume my eastward journey through the Tsitsikamma. From the restaurant complex, I walked along the boardwalk, through the indigenous coastal forest, to the mouth of the Stormsriver. As I crossed the mouth by means of the 60m long suspension bridge, I marvelled at the savage beauty of the gorge. Looking north, I could see about 200m of the river calmly flowing down through its 21km course from the Tsitsikamma mountains. The last 2,2km of the river makes its way through a narrow canyon, locally known as "The Gorge". This canyon is at places as deep as 180m and its narrowest point is only 2m wide. This used to be the most popular section on the Black River Tubing route and was the part that we did most of the time. The sheer beauty of this place is spiritual and one cannot help to find yourself speechlessly staring up at the rockformations and overhanging cliffs in awe. But after rain, when the river level increased, we did the section further upriver, that we called the "Top Section" or "Sector 1,2 & 3" as it was formally classified. The Gorge was Sector 4.

On that tragic day of 25 March 2000, we indeed, we opted for the safer Top Section. The rain we had had on the night before, had pushed the river level over the cut-off for Sector 4 and as procedure required, we set off from the Old Bridge in the old Stormsriver Pass. This winding gravel road pass was build by Thomas Bain in the 19th century, following the ancient elephant migratory route.

As I sat there on the suspension bridge, looking upriver, I couldn't help replaying the events of that day, almost nine years ago. A lot has happened since, not all as sad as the accident itself. My live was changed and, I would like to believe, mostly for the better. I had decided, at the time, not to be a victim and with the grace of God, I had managed to deal with the trauma. One can never say that you're "over it", for that would be impossible for any sane person. I do not believe any of us who were directly involved, are ever meant to get over it. Bit I have been determined to make at least something good come of it. That is why this walk is so important to me.

After spending about and hour at the mouth, I said a prayer for those who had died there, their loved ones and the other survivors. Then I moved on, up the steep climb to the lookout deck at the top of the coastal plateau. From here, on a clear day, you can see all the way to the Robberg Peninsula at Plettenberg Bay, with a panoramic view of the Tsitsikamma, from Peak Formosa (the highest peak in the range) to Stormsriver Peak and Witels Peak to the east.

The 8km to Misty Mountain is very similar to the Otter Trail and makes up the first leg of the popular Dolphin Trail, a two day, three night luxury trail, that was developed specifically for those hikers who would have liked to do the Otter, but wanted something shorter and softer. And who could afford the extra cost, of course.

From Misty Mountain, I cut inland towards Blouleliesbos (Blue Lillies Bush) and then followed the gravel road to Sanddrif, where my boys were waiting for me. I spent a lovely 2 hours with Duncan and Philip at their mother's house. Duncan had to go to Badminton practice but Philip decided to accompany me for another 3km the the house of another friend of mine, Daniel Syme. Daniel had been guiding with me on the day of the accident and we spend the night around the fire, recalling the shock and fear as the flood had hit us. It was a quiet, clear evening and I decided to sleep right there next to the fire, instead of indoors.

6 March 2009

Before setting off, I popped in at Daniel's parents home accross the road. His dad, Rob, was overseas for two weeks but his mom, Carla, invited me for coffee, which became breakfast, and turned into a conversation about whether this particular dish was called Welsh "rabbit" or Welsh "rarebit". Nobody seems to be certain, not even Llewellyn, a Welsh family friend who was also visiting Daniel.

By the time I got going eventually, it was after ten in the morning and the sun was already hot. It was to be a sweltering day and the worst was yeat to come.

By the time I reached Witelsbos Forestry Station, I was ready for a break and something cold to drink, so I popped into the Forestry office to say hello to Tonie Scholtz, the forester in charge. He was very happy to give me some cold water and indulge in a long conversation. I was more than happy to spend an hour in his cool office! Tonie had been one of the local rescue co-ordinators at the scene of our accident and he and his wife Christa have been friends of my parents for more than a decade.

However, I still had another 11km of walking to do for the day, so I reluctantly said goodbye and ventured back out into the heat that was threatening to kill you if it caught you alone.

Along the ald R102, the tar was rough, patched and in places, melting in the afternoon heat. My feet were protesting and by the time I reached Manne Hardie's home on the edge of a pine plantation at Shepherd's Bush, I was happy to call it a day.

Manne has been a friend of mine for the past nine years and it was great to see him again. His home is on the property of A.C. Witcher Timbers, where he now works as plantation manager. The house itself was recently converted from a milking shed to a comfortable two bedroom cottage. We had a lot of fun and laughter, sharing some of our old stories and past experiences with some of his friends who had come over and Manne's legendary culinary skills once again had everyone munching away until the bottom of the pot was shiny!

7 March 2009

Leaving Manne's place was only temporary as the day was promising to be so hot, the he would not hear of me walking during the heat of the day. As he was on standby, he had to do regular spot-checks in the surrounding plantations (a few fires had broken out recently due to the dry, hot conditions) and would be going into the area where I was heading.

At 11am, Manne picked me up and with the cold bottle of Fanta he brought, we drove back to his home where I took a nap and relaxed for a few hours. By 4pm I was ready to go again and Manne took me back to the Oyster Bay turn-off where he had met me earlier. It was still hot but not as bad aas a few hours earlier. As it was nearly full moon, I would walk until after dark and because I had been fed royally already, making camp would be a quick and simple affair. Around here, on a gravel road amongst dairy farmers and pine plantations, there was no great scenery so I just concentrated on the sometimes rough road surface and kept going until about 8:30pm. I came to a small stand of mined pine and black wattle, where I had good shelter from the wind that had picked up since sunset, so I rolled out my sleeping bag and passed out within minutes.

8 March 2009

I was now less than 30km away from Oyster Bay and heading back to the coast again, so I set off just before 6am to take advantage of the relatively cool morning. As yesterday, the scenery was not very exciting so I put my head down and marched away to the sea. Before long I could see the sandy backs of the dunes and despite the hear of early afternoon, I made it to Oyster Bay well before 3pm.

As I arrived, three holiday makers came off the beach and struck up a conversation. Hannes and Fransien Botha were on holiday here and Hannes' brother, Viljoen, had joined them for the weekend. Before long, I was invited to lunch at their home and it wasn't until 4pm that I resumed my walk. The plan was only to get past the last houses where I hoped to find a good camping spot. I was not disappointed and the old, abandoned campsite that I found, served my purposes perfectly. There was soft grass, running water, shelter from the sea wind and a stunning view of the rough waves, breaking on the rocks.

9 March 2009

Waking up wet from the heavy early morning dew, I did not waste time breaking up camp and got going before 7am. It was promising to be yet another hot day and the terrain was fairly uneven, although not as gruelling as the tar and gravel roads of the past few days.

Along here, the coastline is very rocky but it is also a very popular fishing destination, so my walk was being made easier by the continuously winding footpath all the way behind the rocks that has been tread out by generations of fishermen.

Every few kilometers I encountered fishermen's shacks or small clusters of smarter houses, built close to the sea. These retreats are connected by a sandy road, which I decided to follow, as it was better walking and less rigorous on my feet that were still tender from the tar and gravel.

However, soon this track started moving away from the coast. I could see that it was still running more or less parallel to the sea, so I decided to keep following it.

At one stage, I encountered a game fence, running along the road to my left. Quite unexpectedly, I heard branches breaking and just managed to glimpse the reddish brown rumps of the three antilopes disappearing into the bush. Within fifty metres from there, I caught sight of them again. I moved closer stealthily and was rewarded by getting to within fifteen metres from the three very shy Nyala females. I froze in my tracks before they saw me, and when one of them did look my way, she did not seem to notice me and went back to browsing peacefully. For nearly 10 minutes I stood admiring these beautiful animals, but then they made off suddenly when a car came driving past, trailing a cloud of dust.

I started seeing cars crossing the road I was on further ahead, and suspected that there was a tar road because of the speed and the frequency of the passing vehicles. Within minutes I reached this road and realised that this must be the tar road between Cape St Francis and St Francis Bay. I could see St Francis Lighthouse off to my right.

All that remained for me today, was to call my cousin Annemie, who would fetch me. Duncan and Philip also joined me at Annemie's house in Jeffreys Bay for the night. Her sons, Muller and Devan pitched tents in the backyard, where the fur boys were planning to sleep. My uncle Gideon and aunt Wenda joined us for a braai and we all thoroughly enjoyed recounting the old childhood memories and family stories.

2 March 2009

2009-04-20T07:12:00.000-07:00

2 March 2009

It was a gloriously quiet morning when Andre picked me up at Bob and Louise’s home to take me down to Stormsriver Mouth for the start of the famous Otter Trail.

Down in the National Park, I spent some time sorting out my permit and then, as I was about to depart, I ran into some friends. Petrus, his sister Soekie, Mitchell and Benjamin were all guides who worked with my in Stormsriver. They were now employed by SANParks.

By the time I got going, the sun was high and I had a tough 13km ahead of me. It felt weird to walk with the sea on my left, but that was the concession I had to make for permission to walk the Otter: Their route ran in the opposite direction.

After a rocky 4km I reached the well-known waterfall and spend about half an hour enjoying the scenery and eating the snacks Louise had packed for me. Ngubu hut was still another 2km further and unlike conventional Otter hikers, I had to skip this overnight stop. My day would only end at the second hut, Scott. And that was another 14km further.

Apart from adapting to the change of direction, I now also had to contend rougher terrain that I had been used to. The trail was continuesly going up, then down, then up, then down. And I mean UP and DOWN! Sometimes as much as 120-140m up the steep escarpment, just to drop right down again to sea level! The path surface, too, waa rocky and uneven, testing my leg muscles and bare feet to their limits. It was slow going but the scenery was spectacular.

By just after 5pm I made it to Scott hut and decided to take a break before finding a campsite. I had promised SANParks not to sleep in the huts as they were fully booked by paying hikers.

However, before I could leave, the hikers arrived. We started chatting and soon they insisted that I share the facilities with them, so I made my sleeping spot in the Lapa, next to the fire. And just as well, for before bedtime, it started raining. I had quite a comfortable sleep under the roof, out of the rain.

3 March 2009

To get going in the morning, when I had a lonely sleep on the sand, out in the open, is quite easy. But when you are among people it is not as simple. Having company on a trip like this, and being able to share breakfast is great, so the day normally starts slowly. It was past eight by the time I left Scott hut. Like yesterday, the climbs and descends were continuous and exhausting. I had two rivers to make through, but that was simple enough. The sandy mouth of the Elandsbos river was spectacular and I took a break, just soaking up the scenery. A few hundred meters further, I passed Oakhurst hut, normally the third overnight. Now it was 14km to go to Andre hut, the last stop on the trail. After ascending the steep escarpment, the terrain become more even and the view was incredible. But, as with most hiking trails, the last short stretch to the hut was tough. I inched my way down to sea level, along probably the roughest downhill on the trail.

After 10 and a half hours of hard walking, I had reached Andre hut. But it was worth it, for as I walked into the camp, I spotted two familiar, weary looking faces. My two old friends, Chummy and Alan (Cape to Kosi), whom I had met before Stilbaai, had now also reached the same spot. It was a warm, jovial reunion. The other hikers on the trail had all had a rough day and we saw hardly anything of them, so the three of us had the Lapa to ourselves for the night.

Bedtime on this night was not an early affair, as we had many experiences to share. Our routes are more or less the same but here and there, we had opted for different local options. I would have loved to spend more time, but we were now traveling in opposite directions. They had applied for access through SANParks head office and were aloud to walk west to east. I applied locally at the Tsitsikamma National Park and had to do the trail from east to west. So our paths just crossed briefly and I had to accept that we probably would not meet again along our journeys, unless I got held up for an extended period of time, somewhere.

4 March 2009

Again, departure was put off to the last minute and after saying our farewells, I was off towards Nature’s Valley, only 9km away, but a good 4 hour’s walk. The morning passed relatively easily and, knowing the sense of humour that all hikers seem to share, I was starting to suspect there was a surprise in stall for me, somewhere towards the end of the trail. It was just too easy and no trail could end like this. And I was right!

The drop down to the beach was simple enough, but a narrow ridge cut across the beach like the scaly back of a dragon. It was only about 2om high and about as wide, but the path that went over it, was hectic! My pack is fairly wide and it bumped against the vertical rock face a few times, almost sending me over the edge, down into the sea below. I was huffing and puffing by the time I got safely down into the long beach to Nature’s Valley.

From here it was only 2km to the restaurant where I treated myself to a dagwood burger while waiting for Andre. By mid afternoon I was back in Stormsriver Village, resting my aching feet. The truly gave my feet a run for their money but I was happy that they had held out. It was reassuring to know that my soles had recovered so well since the initial tar-damage.

2009-03-01T06:27:00.000-08:00

Monday, 16 February 2009

It was time to say goodbye to Yzelle and Ma and I was not in a hurry. We got down to the beach at 9h00 and Ds Jan Heenop was also waiting to see me off. After wishing me well and leading us in a prayer, he departed and left us to say our goodbyes. It was not easy and even though I tried to keep it short, I only left half an hour later.

Probably the most profound experience of my walk, so far, then occurred. I was walking on a carpet of twigs and reeds, washed up onto the beach by the tides, while I was having another one of my conversations with God. I had just asked Him if He was still with me, because I was feeling very lonesome. Then suddenly, there was a few square metres of smooth, dry sand amongst the debris, no twigs, no stones, no shells, no footprints... just two small twigs laying across each other, in a perfect crucifix, almost in the middle of this clearing. Do you think that was an answer to my question? I do not doubt it. I picked up the twigs, put them in my pocket and went on with a song in my heart!

The beach sand was firm, so walking conditions were good, yet I didn't make fast progress. After five kilometres, I reached Geelkrans and with the tide still fairly high, the best route, according to some fishermen, was to take the sand track up to the top of the dunes and follow it for a few kilometres before coming back down to the beach. Walking behind the dune was quite easy and I covered good ground, until the track suddenly swung left, away from the sea. However, I could see what looked like a t-junction further along, so I stayed on the track, planning to take a right at the junction, which should take me in the right direction again.

However, the track turned out to be the main gravel road between Stilbaai and Gouritzriver Mouth, but it was still leading in the right direction, so I decided to keep going that way. The rough gravel surface was hard on my feet and suddenly the inflammation in my right hip started causing me pain again. But there was nothing to do but keep walking and by early evening I was all in and made a basic camp next to the road, amongst some low bushes. I had done 22 km and was not feeling strong.

Tuesday 17 February 2009

The night had been uncomfortable and I woke early, packed up and set off as soon as I had a Herbalife shake and pain tablets. I hadn't walked more than a few hundred metres when I came upon roadworks. Not the delaying type, though, but a very smooth, flat, recently graded surface that felt like marble underfoot and my spirits rose. Walking at more than 5 km per hour, I soon reached the tarred section of the road and my speed dropped to about 4,5km per hour on the rougher surface, but my muscles and joints had warmed up and I was doing well, so I pushed on for another 10 km before taking a rest.

Getting started after a 15 minute rest, was agonizing, with the stiffness returning. But within a few minutes I had warmed up again and it got easier. At least I realised that my body was getting tougher, and with the improved resilience, it was healing faster.

Before long, I reached the turnoff to Gouritz Mouth. A local motorist confirmed that there were no fishermen with boats at the mouth, and that, if I just continued as I was going, I would encounter the narrow bridge across the river within 3 km, and that would put me within reach of Vleesbaai. The rest of the afternoon was a hard march in the heat, along the tar, only to find that Vleesbaai was a closed, security development. The security guard gave me the number of a Mr Van Rensburg, who owned a small, private campsite outside the village. Mr Van Rensburg was more than happy to accommodate me at the camp for the night and even suggested that I make myself comfortable under the roof of the lapa-style kitchen area, as it looked like rain.

At the camp, I met Tara, from Jeffreys Bay, who had seen a newspaper article about my walk, and offered to share her braai meat with me. This sounded much better than cuppa'snack, so I accepted the offer. While chatting, we discovered that she had met my brother Philip in Peru, two years ago when he was part of a paddling expedition on the Amazon, and she had been on holiday there. Small world indeed!

Wednesday, 18 February 2009

It was low tide and the bay towards Danabaai and Mosselbay stretched for miles ahead of me. The sand was quite loose and walking was uncomfortable but uneventful, until I reached the end of the beach at Danabaai. From here, it was rocky, with cliffs that I couldn't pass, as the tide had come in and was blocking my way. All I could do was to go up into the village and follow the streets to the start of the St Blaize Trail, along the top of the cliffs to Mosselbay. It was beautiful, and even the very posh gholf estate blended in well with the scenery.

It was getting late and I was taking strain with the sore hip, so I phoned Jan, a cousin of a friend of Philip, who had offered me accommodation. He happened to be in Mosselbay and was quite happy to pick me up and take me to their home for the night. What I didn't realise, was that he lived in Tergniet, a village further up the coast. This meant that my next day's route would end just a short distance from his place, again! And Jan and Hannalie were eager to put me up for a second night! Things were looking up for me.

Thursday, 19 February 2009

Hannelie dropped me in Mosselbay just after 8h00 and I set off at a decent pace. To get around the harbour, I had to walk along the streets, but to my joy, I found the tar to be pleasantly smooth, so with a bit of a spring in my limp, I soon reached Diaz beach, from where I was back on sand. It was turning into a good day and with gathering rain clouds, the heat also disappeared and made my walk even more pleasant. At the mouth of the Kleinbrak river, I waded through about waist deep. As I reached the bank, I saw a gentleman approaching me from a nearby house. He introduced himself as Francois Malherbe and invited me home for lunch. Arriving there, his wife, Ida, had a plate of scrumptious sandwiches and fruit waiting! They were on holiday here, but lived in Richardsbay, up the Kwazulu-Natal coast. That is also on my route and he gave me some useful information about the area, but also invited me to stay over with them when I get there!

After spending more than an hour with Francous, Ida and their friend Gerrie (also a keen barefooter), I had to get moving, so off I went, with a full stomach and a smile on my face. God is good! Life is good!

Just after 5pm, I was at the Grootbrak river mouth, where Jan, Hannelie and little Jan-Hendrik soon arrived to pick me up. I had a good day's walk... maybe too good, because before long my hip was so stiff and sore, that I could hardly get out of the car when we got home. After a hot shower I was feeling better, though.

Friday, 20 February 2009

Fro Grootbrak it was a very pleasant, short stretch of beach to Glentana, but from there, I decided to head up the road to the N2 highway to George and hopefully all the way to Victoria Bay. The hill from Glentana was steep, long and winding and by the time I had reached the top, I was ready for a break. On the way, I had been wondering what had made me decide to take this longer route, on tar, to top it all. As you know by now, I have come to detest tar roads.

Just as I was about to take the offramp onto the highway, a lady in a bakkie stopped me and asked where I was walking to. When I told her, she said that her husband would like to meet me and invited me for coffee at their house, just across the road. Hester and Wouter Brand were two refreshingly energetic people who love travelling all over Africa by motorcycle. In fact, Wouter is the founder of Tracks for Africa, a GPS mapping programme. He questioned me intensively about my GPS and then enquired about my camera. When I told him that I was using my cellphone's basic camera, since my camera's zoom had packed up, he grunted disapprovingly, saying that on a trip like this, I need a descent camera. He got up, went into the house and came back, holding out a camera to me. He had recently bought himself a fancy new camera and said that his previous camera was just gathering dust in the cupboard and that it means more to him, giving it to me, than having it just lay there for nothing. I was flabbergasted! And now I also knew why I had taken the long route up to the highway! Yet again, God has lead me to great people like Wouter and Hester. Thank you, Wouter!

I could have stayed there in the garden with them all day but I still had some way to go for the day, so I thanked them and got going again.

But this was not the only piece of good fortune to come my way on this day. Just before George, a car pulled up next to me. It was Sandra Van Eeden from Plettenberg Bay and she invited me to stay over when I got there. And, before driving off, she gave me a bottle of cold water and a packet of biltong!

By the time I reached the outskirts of George, my hip felt ready to fold under me and I was not in a place where I could safely camp. But just then, Jan phoned again. They were concerned about my condition and suggested I spend the weekend with them to recover and rest! How is that for goodwill!? Not long after, he was there, picked me up and took me back to Tergniet again.

The weekend was great, they had invited a group of friends over for a spitbraai on Saturday and by sunset the lamb was grilling well, the aroma filling the air and teasing the tastebuds. It was great to be welcomed by people whom I had never met before, and who had now become close and beloved friends.

On Sunday morning, we went to church, and Dr Van Zyl, the local minister had assured me that I would be most welcome to attand the service barefoot. He was also keen to let me give my testimony befor the congregation. Just like at Stilbaai, the response and support of the Rhebok congregation, was overwhelming!

Monday, 23 February 2009

It was hard to part with my new friends, but the walk to Wildernis was not a long one and my hip had responded well to the rest. Just before Victoria Bay, I took the old, unused railway track that lead through a series of short tunnels and over the Kaaimans river bridge, to Wildernis. It was a most picturesque route and although the railwayline was not the best surface to walk on, I enjoyed the scenery so much, that I hardly noticed the distance. As I was about to enter the last tunnel before Wildernis, I came upon a strange, magical cave, right by the tracks. It apparently used to be a restaurant when the train still ran, but now the owner had given Clifford and some friends permission to live there. The whole place was decorated with shells, driftwood and pieces of art that they had fashioned out of bits an pieces found along the coast. I had a leasurely cup of coffee with Clifford before moving on to the beach at Wildernis.

The tide was coming in and I did not get far before I was faced, yet again, by cliffs rising straight up out of the sea. I had been told about this spot and knew that it was only passable at low tide. But my day was done anyway and I phoned Chris Leggatt, who was to be my host for the evening. Chris is the owner of Eden Adventures and we had met a number of times before.

The evening with Chris, his wife Louise and the boys, Julian and Luke (sorry, EAGLE!), was thoroughly enjoyable and I had a good night's rest in their home right on the banks of the Touw river.

Tuesday, 24 February 2009

Chris dropped me where I had finished the day before and this time, an hour before low tide, getting past the cliffs was a breeze. I was only going as far as Sedgefield, because by then it would be high tide again and the now familiar cliff scenario would be repeating itself just beyond the river mouth there. Rounding the beautiful Gericke's Point, I came within sight og my destination, but, first, I had an appointment with Dave Jones. Dave is a retired teacher, ex chairman of the Southern Cape section of the Mountain Club of SA, and currently a correspondent for the local newspaper. Chris had phoned ahead and Dave was waiting for me on the beach. After the interview, which was conducted over lunch at his home, he took me back and I soon reached the river mouth. It was getting chilly, a few drops of rain had fallen and the outgoing tide was creating a strong current flowing towards the sea. All in all, the swim across the river was not looking inviting and I was trying my best to find excuses to delay it is long as I can. But in the end, there was no other choice and after wrapping my pack in my slightly damaged and leaking plastic cover, I swam across. It was easy enough after all but my bag got a bit damp. I didn't have long to wait for Jessica, a friend of my old friend Kate, who was to take me into Knysna. Kate had offered me the use of her flat in Knysna while she was away and Jessica had volunteered to shuttle me back and forth. I was starting to feel quite guilty about all the royal treatment I was getting along the way, but consoled myself with the sobering thought that I have more than enough hardships waiting for me later on in the journey...

Wednesday, 25 February 2009

After an early night, I woke up refreshed and got my things read. Jessica picked me up and drove me back to Sedgefield where the low tide was only ninety minutes away and the beach was wide and open. Today I had to do 23 km in five hours to be in time for my NSRI pick-up at Brenton-on-Sea. Kate had arranged withe the guys at Station 12 to provide me with safe passage across the treacherous and notorious Knysna Heads. I arrived at Brenton at the same time as the rubberduck came into view. It came racing through the surf and skidded to a halt on the sand in front of me. Grant and Andrew introduced themselves to me and explained the procedure from there. I put my bag in the duck and we turned it to face the sea again, waiting for a suitably calm spell to launch into the surf again. But first we were hit by two big "dumpers", that left us, and my pack, thoroughly drenched! However, when we got going, the highly agile little craft, masterfully handled by Grant, dodged and played cat-and-mouse with the breakers until we found a gap to shoot through and meet up with Graeme, Mark and Declan in the bigger semi-rigid inlatable, behind the waves. I transferred over onto the bigger duck and we took to the open sea to get the right angle at which to enter the channel between the Eastern and Western Heads. Arriving safely at their base on the eastern side,we discovered that my highly prized walking stick had somehow fallen overboard. These Sea Rescue guys are always up for a new challenge, and despite my assurances that it was just a stick, after all, Graeme (the Station 12 Commander), explained that it would be a good excercise for his guys to find and retrieve it. If they can find a walking stick, they can find a person floating in the sea. And lo and behold, Andrew and Grant found it!
Thank you guys, you are just the best! To the seafarers around Knysna, I would like to say: You cannot ask for better guys to come to your aid if you are ever in need!

From the NSRI, it was still a long 8 km to the top of the hill at Pezula Resort where I ended my day. Again, Jessica, who is employed at the resort, shuttled me back to Kate's flat.

Thursday. 26 February 2009

Jessica was not available to take me to my starting point, but another friend of Kate, Carmen, had offered to drive me to the Noetsie road, where my walk would begin. From here to Plettenberg Bay, I had 28 km of tar road ahead of me and the heat soon made itself felt. Amongst the forests and plantations along the road, the humidity was high and I was sweating profusely! But apart from the tar, the walking was smooth and without incident. A quick lunch stop at Harkerville, followed by a refreshment stop at The Heath, a delightful coffee shoppe/ furniture showroom/ craftshop, saw me entering Plettenberg Bay and reaching the Van Eeden residence before 5pm. Sandra, Pieter, the twins Jacques and Pierre, with their sister Donna, made me feel most at home and the braai by Pieter was a feast of steak, pork and lamb! Thank you thank you!

Friday, 27 February 2009

I was planning to walk to Natures Valley but first I had some business at the bank in Plet, and I had to get to a camping store to buy a new survival bag, as my old one had torn even further during the swim across the mouth at Sedgefield. By the time I was done in town, it was past 10am and I walked as fast as I could towards Keurbooms Village. But even though I was there by 2pm, the tide was already rising and I was too late to make it around the point towards Nature's Valley. All I could do, was to phone my friends, Bob and Louise Reed in Stormsriver. The weekend was to be another rest at Stormsriver, before taking on the world famous Otter Trail. Because of the trail logistics, I am required to do the trail from the Tsitsikamma National Park, towards Nature's Valley, which is in the opposite direction of my route. But in the end this does not make much of a difference, as the area covered, is still the same.

In Stormsriver Village, where I had lived for a number of years, before and after the river accident, many old friends welcomed me back with support, love and encouragement. It was so good to be back amongst people who knew me and what this journey means to me. Seeing my old colleagues at Stormsriver, was like being with family again. It was here that my adventure career had started, where I learnt what true commitment and community upliftment meant. My former employer and mentor, Ashley Wentworth, is still, after all these years, the passionate job creator and force behind the upliftment of local communities that I had known back then. This man was like a father to many of us and still is, to the new generation of guides, and also to many others in the local community. For everything you have done for me, Ash, and the example that you have set, I salute you!

2009-02-15T05:11:00.001-08:00

Tuesday, 3 February 2009

A few drops of rain had fallen during the night but I was snug and dry in the little cave. The ankle that had given me trouble the previous day, was also better after a voltaren tablet that I had taken before bedtime.

I started early and there were no fisherman around. Like the day before, the first ten kilometres or so were easy along a firm, sandy beach. And again, the marine birds entertained me with their antics. Especially the black oyster catchers were very interesting to observe. These birds, until recently endangered, nest high up along the beaches, just at the foot of the first dunes. Their habitat has been disturbed by coastal developments, indiscriminate 4x4 driving and various other human activities over the years. Fortunately, new legislation and growing awareness have helped to save many nesting sites. Oyster catchers are territorial, with many pairs occupying these long beaches, each patrolling their own section of a few hundred metres. As I pass through these territories, I could clearly observe the breeding pairs, and their reaction to my presence. At first, just as I entered their zone, either of the pair, or both, would complain loudly, flying above and over me, then one would normally land ahead of me, while the other would take up position towards the dune, closer to the well camouflaged hollow in the sand, which serve as the nest. It would, however, never give the nest's position away by squatting on it or circling around it, but would run parallel to me, just a few metres ahead. The one nearer to the water, would make sure that I was focussed on following it, rather than the nest guard. In my case, I walk along the shore anyway, so I never pose any threat to them. After a while, as they realise that I am about to exit their territory and enter that of the next pair, the guard by the dune would turn and face back towards my rear, until I have passed its position. Then it would fly back while the one closest to me would make its escape, flying towards my right, and circling back over the shallow waves. And virtually at that same moment, the next pair, whose territory I have now entered, will start the whole procedure over again. It kept me occupied for many hours, watching these beautiful birds and trying to predict, by their actions, when the moment would come that they would let me pass... or hand me over to the next shift, to keep an eye on my intrusion through Oystercatcher Land.

As always, the easy long beach also came to an end and was replaced, like previous times, by rough, rocky areas and dim footpaths through the low, dense coastal vegetation known as fynbos. The going got tough, my feet felt the pressure of sharp rocks, broken shells and thorns. But I knew that I only had about ten kilometres of this to endure before I get would reach Brandfontein and its huge dune field. From there, it would be beachwalking up to Suiderstrand, just eight kilometres from Cape Agulhas, the southern tip of Africa. But for today, I was planning to find a suitable, sandy hollow with, hopefully some protection from the wind, to make camp for the night. It looked like rain again and the wind was quite strong. High above the beach, behind some dense shrubs, I found such a place, where I pitched my bivvy and hit the sack early. I watched the sunset, but my last memory of the day was of a dusk sky, so I must have fallen asleep before it was even completely dark. I was that tired.

Wednesday, 4 February 2009

By the time I awoke, it was hardly light. I watched the sun rise over the dunes to the east and realised that this would be my last sunrise over land, for quite some time. Today, unless something untowards happens, I would reach Agulhas and from here on, the sun would rise over the Indian Ocean. So I gathered up my things and set off, down to the beach. Right at that spot, below the dunes, is a little spring, that cuts a small stream through the sand. The water is good to drink. It is very good to drink. I filled my waterbottles, scooping mugs full out of the shallow rivulet and pouring it into my cans. It was a good start to what turned out to be a blessed day.

I hadn't walked far when I ran out of beack... Well, technically, I guess the beach was still there, but it wasn't sand anymore. Instead, I was walking on a surface made up of loose, egg sized pebbles. Walking on this was extremely uncomfortable, it was rough on the soles and the loose nature of the pebbles meant that I would sink ankle deep into it, thus putting a lot of strain on my ankles and calf muscles. Soon, the pebble size increased to tennis ball proportions... This was worse. To add to this, the slope along the coast here, is quite steep, so I kept gradually sliding down to the water's edge, then forcing my way up again, and so on and so on.

But this, too, would pass and before I knew it, I came upon the most beautifull natural tidal pool, almost a perfect circle. To the sea side, is a rocky reef, breaking the momentum of the waves and on the land side, a crescent beach (of SAND), rounded off this idillic, almost tropical island-like setting. It was just before ten in the morning and I decided to have a break an just take in some more of the beauty of this scene. A group of sand plovers played on the sand, chasing each other, their thin little legs moving so fast that it was just a blur underneath the tiny puffs of feathers.

Eventually, it was time to move on and I covered the short distance to Suiderstrand in a matter of minutes. This little resort village has hardly any permanent residents (at least, that was my impression) and most properties were locked up, no soul in sight. From here it took me just over an hour to Cape Agulhas. After the anti-climax I have experienced at Cape Point, I had decided not to make too much of preset milestones, so when I arrived here, I set up my camera on the cairn of stones in front of the official plaque denoting the southern tip of Africa, took a photo of myself and put my pack back on. However, a few tourists had arrived and started asking me questions about what I was doing. Fifteen minutes later I was on the road again and decided to treat myself to a lunch made up of solid food. The type you actually have to chew before swallowing. For the last few days I have been living on Herbalife shakes, water and cup'o soup. I wasn't hungry, I just missed chewing! So the first restaurant I encountered, was Suidpunt Potpouri, where I ordered a cold coke and a toasted sandwich. As I relaxed on the stoep (patio), I fell into conversation with two locals. What I didn't know, was that the owner of the establishment was just inside the door and heard what I was telling the other patrons. After paying my bill, I stayed on, finishing the last of my coke. Before I could leave, however, the waitress, Saroghe, brought my money back, saying that her employer, Desiree Kleynhans, was giving me the meal on the house! Thank you, so much, Desiree! And for the contribution to the "road-fund". Next time when you visit Agulhas, pop in at Suidpunt Potpouri, the food is great, the service friendly and the shop has millions of lovely memento's and crafts. And the people are WONDERFUL!

Agulhas was not my destination for the day, so I set off again with a satisfied tummy and a new confirmation of the goodness of the people of my country. Struisbaai is not far from Agulhas, in fact, when you travel by road, you hardly notice the divide between these two villages. But along the beachfront, I still had a good eight kilometres of walking to the Struisbaai harbour, where I was to meet Frederik and Nelmarie Neethling, my hosts for the night. I had never met them before but they invited me anyway.

At the harbour cafeteria, I had a number of separate but concurrent conversations with some locals and tourists. It was sometimes hard to give the right answer to the right question to the right person in the right language at the right time, but we managed and they were all very patient with me and each other.

When Nelmarie arrived, we still had to wait for Frederik to return from the sea. They run Awesome Charters, and Frederik had been out at sea all day with some guests, hopeful for something to catch. When we eventually got to their house, Frederik and his crew still had to clean and service the boat, but I was shown to my room immediately and minutes later had a great cup of coffee in my hand.

While we were admiring some merino mutton chops and boerewors on the braai, we found out that my late dad had taught Nelmarie history from grade 8-10, at Uniondale, while I was only in grade 1&2. So we had a good long chat about the old days in Uniondale, and all the old characters that we could still remember.

All too soon it was time for bed and the end of a really memorable day here at the south end of my continent.

Thursday, 5 February 2009

The weather forecast told Frederik that they would not be going out to sea for at least three days. That same forecast told me that I would be walking almost straight into a 55km/h south-easterly. So I was eager to get going early, before the wind picked up. However, at the harbour, after another oversized breakfast, we ran into Dr Riaan Smit, the local physician. He was not going to let me go easily, asking me a string of questions about my knee, general health and water consumption. Then we just had to go to his surgery so that he could introduce me to his staff and patients! Eventually, after making me promise to increase my water intake to at least four litres per day, he released me and Nelmarie rushed me back to the harbour.

Today was going to be mostly beach walking, with the exception of the last five kilometres or so, to Waenhuiskrans (aka Arniston). The sand stretched out ahead of me around the wide bay, as far as I could see. I had a few things to look out for...Firstly, the wreck of the Maggie, a wool carrier that had ran aground near the Heuningnes river mouth, but which was rarely visible, unless the wind had uncovered it. I missed that one, it would take a few days to blow away enough sand to reveal the buried wreck. What I couldn't miss, was the river mouth. It was fourteen kilometres from Struisbaai and I covered the distance in just over two hours, not bad going at all! But the sand was firm, the tide was low and the wind had held off almost all of the way... so far. The tide was coming in fast now and although I could still wade through the river mouth, I had to carry my pack on my head. As if on que, the wind gusted into action just as I emerged from the water. I got an instant sandblasting and the fine sand clung to my wet shorts and body. It wasn't very funny. Here, at the bend in the bay, I turned straight into the howling, sandswirling wind. All I could do was to put my head down and slog through it.

I was making slow but steady progress and calculated that I would have just enough time for a visit to the world famous cave and get to a sheltered spot from where I could conduct my weekly 17h15 telephonic interwiew with Johan Els of Radiopulpit. As I reached the parking area on the Arniston side of the cave, a guy got out of his bakkie and approached me. It was Deon Meyer, another name whose face I had never seen before. Deon is a scientist who works at the OTB missile testing range, just beyond Arniston. Due to the nature of their work, the testing range is a highly restricted area and beyond my wildest dreams, friends and friends of friends have jumped in to help, leading to not only permission, but a really enthusiastic support from OTB management. A special thanks to Abrie, Willem, Deon, Judith and Elisna for their help.

Deon was to be my escort through the OTB property the next day and he had suggested that I spend the night with him and his family in Bredasdorp, near Arniston. We still had time to get to his home before my radio interview, so we departed immediately. In Bredasdorp, I just sat down with a cup of coffee when Johan Els phoned for the interwiew. These interviews are always uplifting and strengthen my faith even more. Everytime after the conclusion of this interview, as always before, the calls and text messages started streaming in, from listeners who phoned to give me support. It is amazing how much goodwill is being passed on to me.

At dinner, Deon's wife, Sonja, who teaches at the local high school, asked if I would be willing to do a short presentation to the school's teaching staff and pupils in the morning. Before I could really think about it, I said yes, so there I was, just gotten myself into my first job as motivational speaker! OUCH!

Friday, 6 February 2009

At 7h30, we were at the school, teachers giving me curious looks. Can't say I blame them, with me walking into the staff room of a very respectable school, with no shoes on! But Sonja had spoken to the principal and once he had announced and introduced me, everyone relaxed and started showing interest. It went very well and even though I didn't speak long, I could sense that some of what I said, had sunk in, at least.

And then we were off again to Arniston. Deon and I had hardly arrived, when the OTB contingent arrived to see us off and wish us well. Abrie just wanted to see what my feet looked like, Willem wanted to see that we get off safely, Elisna wanted to take photo's for the OTB Newsletter and Judith really wished she could join the walk. But eventually Deon and I managed to tear ourselves away and got started. The coastline from here to the Breede river mouth is spectacular with flat-topped limestone cliffs jutting out into the sea, interspersed with long stretches of flat sandy beaches. The limestone reacts chimically with water and this creates the most intricate and amazing formations.

Apart from the scenery, the day was extra special, because Deon and I hit it off from the start, both being passionate hikers, nature lovers and fathers who share the same dreams for our kids (and concerns about their future). He had served on the SANAE base in Antarctica when he was younger, had taught at Paarl Boys' High while I was at school in Paarl Gymnasium (for those who don't know, these two schools have a relationship that can be compared to that between George W Bush and Osama Bin Laden). But we were being quite mature about the whole rivalry thing, I must add. As we chatted, we were tking in the scenery, breathing in the salt air and bowing our heads into the wind... wind is always present at the coast. Time flew and before we realised it, we had reached the historic village of Skipskop, now a ghost town. In the 80's it was the subject of a "forced removal" of the fisher folk who had lived there and is still today, mentioned along with District Six. Anyway, let us not get into politics.

One of the conditions of my access grant, was that we would not overnight on OTB land, so we pushed on until we reached the fence. From here, it was Western Cape Nature Conservation property, the very popular De Hoop Nature Reserve. We camped right on the boundry and had to make do with instant soup, cooked on my little gas primus. And then it started raining lightly too. We both crawled into our sleeping bags and covered ourselves with my canvas sheet. It was a relatively uncomfortable night and I remember waking up, lying on my left side, to find that Deon was on his right side. Our faces were literally two centimetres apart. So here we were, two hardcore, adventurous, macho hikers... too close for comfort! So I turned around quietly and fell asleep. However, we are both big boys and at our age, quite secure about our manhood, so that, when I told him in the morning, we had a good chuckle about it.

Saturday, 7 February 2009

Dawn was gray and cool, low tide, no wind and absolutely perfect hiking conditions. After the night we had, we were eager to get started so without wasting time, we got started. Our target was Koppie-Alleen in De Hoop. Judith would drive Deon's bakkie there, from where they would return to Bredasdorp. Deon's wife, Sonja and their kids, Jana and Marno, were in Caledon at their annual Interschools Athletics meeting, so Judith had volunteered to do the shuttling. That would also give her the chance to walk towards us and meet us along the way. She is also a very keen hiker and getting the opportunity to walk in such a beautiful area, she would not pass up on it. We met her after an hour's walk and just more than an hour later, we were at Koppie-Alleen.

At this stage, I had been offered accommodation by the Tourism wing of De Hoop, but final permission to hike through the reserve, had to come from the Chief Park Warden. He was off duty and we had been unable to reach him. In other words, I was in the reserve illegally, and I have even entered the area through an illegal route. I needed someone's permission to be here and I needed it soon. The only contact person I had in the park, was Sonja Chadwick, head of the Tourism department. She was also off duty for the weekend but kindly volunteered to help. In the meantime, she referred me to her second-in-charge, Sebastian, whom she had already briefed on my situation. Deon suggested we go to De Hoop's main camp at Die Opstal, where Sebastian would receive us.

After meeting Sebastian, Deon and the ladies said their farewells and headed back to Bredasdorp. Yet again, I had made friends that I had to say goodbye to after such a very short time together. It was sad, but I have a feeling that Deon and his family would see me again in the future. Thank you! Thank you!

Sebastian wasted no time. Within minutes, I was in a quaint bungalow overlooking a beautiful lake, with an open-air shower to match! After freshening up, I headed back to the main compound for lunch (on the house!) The staff here, are all great, real people. Not the impersonal, polished little clones we so often find in the tourism trade (no offence!). George, Tony, Aalwyn, Alicia and Fazlin all chatted and treated me like a VIP! A special word of thanks to all of you at Die Opstal! Sonja, you have an assistant and staff of note. Hou so aan!

Sunday, 8 February 2009

In the meantime, Sebastian had contacted the Conservation second-in-charge, Andre, who was standing in for the Chief Warden over the weekend. Andre understood my problem and was more than willing to assist me. After taking me to see an ex-colleague of mine, Thulani Silence Ndlovu, who now works there as a ranger, he took me back to the trail and advised me of the best way to get to Infanta, my destination for Sunday night. Actually, I was hoping to reach Witsand, only one kilometre beyond Infanta, but between these two villages, was the mouth of the Breede river. And the nearest crossing was an oldfashioned pont, still in daily use and excellent condition, but thirty kilometres upstream!

The walk to Infanta was long and hard, with rough, dusty gravel roads and a hot sun beating down on me. It was not my most enjoyable day and when I eventually reached the village, I found that there were hardly any people around, late on a Sunday afternoon. And even fewer boat owners. All I could do was to walk upstream along the bank until I could find a boat. The prospect of swimming a kilometre wide river mouth in an outgoing tide, was not one I enjoyed. I am a hiker, not really a noted swimmer. To top it all, just more than a week earlier, researchers had found a four metre long Zambezi shark five kilometres upstream in this very same river. A Zambezi shark is known in other parts of the world as the bull shark. One of the most notorious man eaters ever. They are also well known for their ability to survive in fresh water, hence the behaviour of swimming up river mouths! I wasn't going to swim across a river mouth just to end up in a shark mouth! No way!

So I just walked on. Eventually, I saw life at one of the riverfront homes. But they were clearly packing up after the weekend, their boat already on its trailer. However, Neil knew that his neighbour, Eben is a permanent resident. Also, we could see that Eben's boat was still in the water. Neil phoned Eben. Eben said I must come up to their place and when they go to fetch their boat, they will first ferry me across. Prayers were answered yet again! At that stage I was all in and needed some good news. Thank you Neil, Eben Sr, Eben Jr and their wives! Eben Jr first had to paddle his canoe out to the boat, straight into the wind that had now swung west. It seems that wherever you go, when you were most influenced by wind, it would blow against you. Or are we just more focussed on the negative, and don't take notice of all those times when the winds are in our favour?

The boatride itself was a piece of cake for these experienced rivermen and within minutes I was chauferred into the tiny harbour at the hotel on the Witsand side of the river. Suddenly I had energy again, so I decided to use the remaining few hours of daylight to walk as far as I could get. In Witsand, I found a payphone. My cellphone's battery was almost flat. I had no small change. So I sent Yzelle a text message with the number of the payphone. A few seconds later the phone rang, I could hear her voice and have a conversation with her for the first time in days. It was so good to speak to her! From here on it would be at least two days to Stilbaai where my mom lives, with no power to charge my phone inbetween.

I walked on, determined to get at least as far as the camp that Philip and I used on our hike along this piece of the coast in December 2008 (see photo gallery - Witsand to Stilbaai). My camera had konked out on me on the night that Deon and I camped at De Hoop, so I have no new photo's since then. And with my phone being flat, I couldn't use its camera either.

Well, eventually, just after 19h00, I found our old campsite and had a quick meal of instant soup and Herbalife shake. Then I passed out and slept right through to Monday morning.

Monday, 9 February 2009

Now, with Stilbaai almost in my sights, I was eager to make some good distance. Yesterday's hard slog at least gave me thirty-one kilometres. To make Stilbaai by Tuesday night, I had to do more than thirty per day for the next two days again. I knew the route and the terrain from the previous hike. There are good pieces of hiker-friendly beaches, but Tuesday would be a test.

On Sunday night a gentleman on the beach had told me of two other guys walking from Cape Point to Kosi bay, whom he had met here earlier on Sunday. This was the second time I had heard the rumor of other hikers. In Gansbaai I was told they were a week ahead of me. I was getting curious. As I went up the dune path to Moodie se Put, I noticed shoe prints but thought it was fishermen. Later, these tracks seemed to follow my route, and ignored the popular fishing spots. I started to suspect that they might belong to these mysterious two hikers. I was right. As I walked up to Puntjie, after swimming the Duivenhoks river and ripping my waterproof survival bag, two ladies, Rika and Rina, confirmed that these two gentlemen had passed there just earlier the same morning. Now, only hours separated us and I became determined to meet them before Stilbaai. In Stilbaai, I plan to take some time out with my mom, brother Philip and Yzelle. It will be months before I see any of them again.

The rest of Monday went by without incident and by early evening I made camp on a wooden deck above the beach, thirt-four kilometres from where I had started in the morning. It was far enough for one day.

Tuesday, 10 February 2009

It was barely light when I started packing up, my body stiff and sore, from a hard walk the day before, but also from sleeping on a hard wooden surface. It was cool and the tide was low. I only had three kilometres of beach left to Blombos. From there... well, I was nervous about the following ten kilometres. When I had walked this route in December with my son, we had had a rough time along this piece of rocky coast. Forewarned is fore-armed, yes, but anticipation can also mess with yor mind and to be honest, I was not looking forward to this day's leg of the walk. However, it serves no purpose worrying about it and as I have said before, if I ever thought this adventure would be easy, it would not be worth doing. So I braced myself and set off.

And then just as I rounded Odendaalspunt, I saw them. The two other hikers. They were packing up their camp and didn't see me approach until I greeted them from a few yards away. I must have been an unexpected sight because they seemed a bit puzzled at my appearance. But after making the introductions, they recognised me from an article in the Cape Times that they had seen earlier. They were obviously great guys and the type of characters that I like associating with. It seemed the most natural thing to join up for the day's walk, so I waited for them to pack up.

Chummy and Alan had started off from Cape Point on exactly the same day that I had left the Castle. More about their background can be found on their website, www.cape2kosi.com so I won't go in too deep about that.

But having two great guys to share this tough leg with, gave me a better feeling abouth the day ahead. Our first two kilometres took us two hours, scrambling along unstable sandstone cliffs, climbing up, over and under rocks... all in all, not the easiest of times. But with the added cameraderie, we made it through the worst and reached Jongensfontein in just over seven hours (fifteen kilometres). At the Drie Pikkewyne Supermarket (Three Penguins), we bought the cold cokes and chocolates that we had fantasized about while we walked. On top of this, we discovered SOFT SERVES! WITH FLAKES! We must have looked like three little boys at the carnival, the way we tucked into those ice cream cones.

It was almost 15h00 when we started our last stretch of the day to Stilbaai. The route was clear and not technical at all, but we only reached my mom's house in town, at 19h15. My phone was completely dead by now and she was only expecting me. And only the next day. Imagine the surprise (or shock) when three grizzly, tanned faces peered over her garden wall and asked for a place to sleep. But Ma was up for anything, as always. She quickly whipped updinner for us, while we took turns in the shower. There wasn't enough beds for everyone, but nobody complained. Sleeping on the ground was par for the course and after a shower and a good meal, with a real roof over your head, nobody was in any mood to complain.

Wednesday, 11 February 2009

My brother and I took Chummy and Alan to town for some supplies and then dropped them off again at the start of their day's hike. We said our goodbyes with the knowledge that we might well meet up again soon. Their daily target was set at twenty kilometres per day and mine at thirty. So even with my five days of rest, if all went according to plan, I should catch up again and I am so looking forward to that day! U GO, GUYS!!!

Thursday, 12 February 2009

Yzelle arrived from Cape Town by 10h00. We had a lovely relaxing day and I got my feet and calves well and truly massaged. Ma has a scale. I tested it. It told me seventy-three kilograms. My weight before leaving Cape Town was eighty-two. It doesn't take an Einstein to calculate the nine kilo weight loss in three weeks. Yzelle was not happy when she found out that I had been taking my Herbalife in half portions. It wasn't intentional, I just got the measurements wrong. What can I say, I'm just a guy! We sort of get lost with things like that. But now I know, TWO scoops at a time! And as a SUPPLEMENT, not a meal replacement, coz I need to maintain my weightn not lose it. Chummy had lost eight kilo's, Alan seven. But we were all FEELING fit!

Friday, 13 February 2009

It was time for my brother, Philip, to return to Cape Town. His girlfriend, Shana would be arriving back from overseas soon. They too, don't see each other regularly, he being a paramedic in Guinnee and she working for Qatar Airways! We sad good bye but he left me his GPS. Now THAT would make life easier, when it comes to adding up the distances covered during the day. No more measuring on a map and then converting according to the scale. DANKIE BOET, GENIET DIE VAKANSIE MET SHANA IN MALAWIE!

Saturday, 14 February 2009

Yzelle and I had Valantine's Day together. Neither of us is into the whole Valentine hooha, but we did buy each other a card, only to find that we had both chosen the exact same one!

Sunday, 15 February 2009

The local minister at Ma's congregation was very enthusiastic when he heard that I would like to share my story with the congregation. It fitted in perfectly with the sermon that he had started preparing a week earlier already. We both agreed that it was God's will that we had met. Dominee Jan Heenop saw no problem with me coming into the church barefoot and after sharing my story in both services, I was astounded by the support of the people of Stilbaai. We even had visitors at Ma's house in the afternoon. To Jan and the people of Stilbaai, a heartfelt THANK YOU SO MUCH! I will be leaving tomorrow morning but the experience I had here, will stay with me forever.

So, tomorrow morning I say good bye to Yzelle and Ma. I will not see either of them for quite a few months, at least. But I love you both, always.

2009-02-14T11:40:00.000-08:00

Monday, 2 February 2009

After a way too big breakfast by Maryann, Yzelle and I returned to Pearly Beach where I was to start a new week's walk. Before I set off, some pictures had to be taken of my new Herbalife t-shirt. Yzelle had registered as a Herbalife distributor in order to bring in some funds, seeing as the big corporate companies were not exactly banging down the door to sponsor my walk. I am using various Herbalife products, sponsored by Hansie and Anita Louw, to supplement my diet and prevent me from melting away completely (Thank you, Hansie and Anita!). This range of health products are suitable for just about everybody, whether you want to lose weight, build mass, maintain a good healthy lifestyle or just to have the neccessary energy to cope with a hectic schedule. Any Herbalife orders placed with Yzelle, will help to fund this walk.

With the photo session done, we said our good byes and I tackled the walk with new determination. It is wonderful what a weekend's rest can do. From pearly Beach, the beach stretches eastwards for kilometres, where I could just enjoy my surrounds without having to concentrate on where I was treading. Cape cormorants, white breasted cormorants, hartlaub's gulls, kelp gulls, various species of terns and black oyster catchers were plentiful and I only missed the whales, which had already started their migration southward a few weeks ago. The first half of the day was very easy and I did about sixteen kilometres before stopping for lunch at a mysteriously deserted and dilapidated holiday resort. The buildings seemed to be of relatively modern design but the windows and doors were broken (some altogether missing), the lawns unkempt and rubbish blowing in the wind. It was almost spooky. And then, to top it all, a neat young man in a formal suit and tie (minus the jacket) walked down the road, past the complex and on towards the tidal swimming pool. He barely turned to greet me before disappearing around the bend. I had not heard a vehicle approaching, I did not see any signs of a house anywhere around and I never saw him return. But at least I know he was real, because he had left clear footprints. I do not believe in goasts but I know goasts do not leave tracks. OK, maybe that sounds contradictory. Anyway, I know he was just a normal man. But what he was doing there will remain a mystery to me and it was time for me to move on, so I packed up and made some tracks of my own.

Within a few hundred metres, the flat beach disappeared as suddenly as my enigmatic visitor and was replaced by rough, rocky terrain which slowed me down considerably. Not much later, I reached the first houses of the Buffeljags fishing village. Because the dim footpath lead through the fence and across the yard of the first home, I approached the owner to ask permission to enter his property. My parents did teach me some manners, at least. He was more than accommodating, smiling and telling me that he had seen me in Gansbaai a few days earlier. His huge black dog og dudious parentage, however, took it upon himself to defend his territory against this intruder and very nearly got a piece of shin (mine!) for lunch. To anyone watching from a distance, my high steps and staff-swinging moves might have looked like a strange pagan dance. I could already see the movie, Kevin Kostner playing me, "Dances with Dogs".

After Buffeljags, I left the gravel road and followed a short footpath to the beack. Another beautifully deserted, unspoilt, wide stretch of firm sand, all the way to Quinn Point lighthouse. As I reached the beach, I saw my first poacher! Around this part of the world, poachers are after only one thing... ABILONE! In recent times, this once abundent shellfish has become all the rave in Oriental restaurants and is in such demand that it sells for up to ZAR 1000,00 per kilogram on the black market. With a relatively high unemployment rate in this part of the Western Cape, poaching has become a way of life for many. And with up to ZAR 200,00 per kilogram being paid to the diver himself, I guess we who have food on the table cannot blame them. But abilone has become threatened! Locally, abilone is known as "perlemoen" and poachers as "perlies". Just about everyone knows who the perlies are, but the police cannot do anything to them unless they catch them with the abilone actually on their person, making law enforcement very difficult. I have lived around here long enough to know that these poacher will not hesitate to even shoot if they feel threatened and the best way to stay safe, is just to pretend not to have seen them. So I walked past without a glance in his direction. I was here to walk and spread the Gospel, not to play vigilante.

The going got tough from the lighthouse, where I had to make my way through a densely overgrown dune field, just to reach the coastline again. At high tide, these last seven kilometres to Die Dam (The Dam) where I was to spend the night, was an agonizing crawl over rocks and boulders, between the sea and steeply sloping dunes. To add to my frustration, What seemed like one bay, with the houses of Die Dam just a few hundred metres away, turned out to be a series of small bays. Everytime I got to what I thought must now surely be "the point", there was another "point" up ahead. And so on, and so on, until I finally reached the little cluster of holiday homes. I knew of a small hidden cave above the coast, so I slithered into its shelter moments before the sun disappeared over the horizon, tired and glad to be able to take off my pack.

2009-02-01T07:15:00.001-08:00

Day 9 - 23 January 2009

Early on Friday morning, Nikki and Nickey dropped me off at Steenbras river again. From here, it was only 17 kilometres to Rooiels, where I was planning to spend the night, so I decided to take it easy on the tar along Clarence Drive. This is a most scenic pass down the eastern side of False Bay, winding its way along the coast, sometimes almost at sea level, and elsewhere high up, overlooking all of this beautiful bay that has caused ancient seafarers so much trouble. Even in more recent years, this stretch of coastline has seen its share of tragedies. The crosses, plaques and small monuments, erected in memory of fishermen who have been washed off the rocks, others drowned while swimming or diving, or cars that have crashed through the barriers and tumbled down into the sea.

However, on this beautiful morning, I was able to rejoice in the pure beauty of the view around me. On my left, the mountains rose up steeply from the roadside. To my right, it was al sea, I could see the whole of the Cape Peninsula, where I had walked just a few days before.

All of a sudden, I saw movement in the water below me, it was a seal, slamming an octopus on the surface, to tear smaller, chewable chunks off the big meal it has caught. While I was standing, staring at this little, very special spectacle, another, bigger splash caught my eye. It was a humpback whale! One of the last left along the coast for the current season. Most of its fellow migrants have already left for the freezing waters of Antarctica.

It was starting to get hot again and so I decided to increase my speed to avoid spending too much time on boiling tar. I have had more than enough of hot tar surfaces. In fact, I have become quite the expert on tar! If you think I exaggerate, please forgive me, but I believe that I can gauge the temperature of the tar to within two degrees centigrade... Just by the smell!

Just before the road started its descent to Rooiels, I was surprised by Tania, an old friend and ex colleague, almost running me down in an attempt to stop her car next to me! I waited at the next viewpoint while she found a turning spot. We didn't have a lot of time to catch up on news, because she was already almost late for her flight to Johannesburg, but she didn't leave before making sure that I accepted her invitation to stay over with her and her mother in Kleinmond, when I get there. The last kilometre to Rooiels was downhill and I made it in good time.

What do you get when twin brothers from Sea Point become chefs, join a rock band, and then start a restaurant in Rooiels? You get... Something Els! Really, that is the name of their restaurant. Zee and Adrian van Zyl were to be my hosts for the evening and put me up in a very comfortable flatlet above the restaurant and invited me to dinner... ON THE HOUSE! While browsing through their very innovative menu, Zee introduced me to one of their local regulars, an Austrian gentleman by the name of Adolf, who has been living in South Africa for thirty six years. Even though Adolf joked about my brainless scheme, he did it with genuine humor and I could take no offence. He later even insisted on paying for my meal and gave me a "small donation towards the roadfund". Thank you Adolf!
Back to the menu: As I was now on the adventure of a lifetime, it was just fitting to be adventurous in my choice of main course, so I went for CROCODILE AND PRAWNS IN A THAI CURRY! And, Boy, I was not disappointed! I won't try to discribe it, but when next you are near Rooiels, pop in and try it! Zee and Adrian are genuine guys who take their food (and their patrons) seriously. Adrian even gave me a loaf of his home baked bread to take along the next morning!

Day 10 - 24 January 2009

I had hardly started walking on Saturday morning, when I took the wrong turnoff and would have ended up back in front of Something Els, had a lady called Sandra not asked why I was going that way. She had recognised me from the papers and realised that the road I was walking on, would soon make a U-turn, so she suggested that I walk with her, as she was going in the right direction. We started chatting and she told me she was hunting rockjumpers, a special species of bird that is very sought after amongst birdwatchers, and which tend to frequent a certain area just outside the village. Just a few hundred metres on, we met up with some other birders who had just found a rockjumper. But Sandra first wanted to take some photos of me.
So after saying our goodbyes, I was off on my own again, on this very rough gravel track, towards Pringle Bay. It was only eight kilometres from Rooiels to Pringle Bay, but the gravel was killing my tender feet, so that this short distance, that would normally take me no more than two hours, ended up in a five and a half hour crawl-swear-limp-swear-stumble-swear-hop-swear-sitdown-swear epic!
On the beach in Pringle Bay, I received a call from Albert, a reporter from the Sunday Times. I had met him on the beach in Kommetjie a few days earlier and he was interested in my story. Albert told me that he had picked up a photographer and was en route to catch me for an exclusive in the Sunday Times Leisure Section, for the 8th of February edition. I took that as a sign to stop and rest right there on the beach! An hour later he arrived and with a small shock of recognition, I realised that his photographer, Ruwan, was the same guy who photographed me for the Sunday Times in St George's Hospital, Port Elizabeth, in March 2000, just after the Stormsriver accident! He recognized me too and the photo shoot that followed turned into an hour long back-and-forth, this-way-and-that-way, just-one-more-shot, and-another-last-one, oh-no-I-spoiled-that-one, have-to-do-it-again, fun afternoon on the beach with lots of people casting curious glances at us.
By the time the interview was over, it was nearly time for Yzelle to arrive, so I phoned her to say I will be waiting right there at Pringle Bay. Tomorrow is my first rest day since the start of the walk and we were going to spend a short weekend camping at Palmiet near Kleinmond. Soon Yzelle and I would not be able to see each other at all, so we have decided to spend as much of my off time, together, as possible.

Day 12 - 26 January 2009

Yzelle dropped me off at Pringle bay again on Monday morning. She headed back to Cape town and I set off towards Kleinmond, via Bettys Bay. It was cool and after a day of rest, my feet were feeling much better, so the gravelroad past the Hangklip Hotel, was not much of an obstacle. What did stop me in my tracks, however, was a boom gate a few kilometres on. The sign read Seafarm Nature Reserve - Private property - No Entry! Well, what now? I have learnt that the best thing to do in a case like this, is to sit down, have a drink of water and PRAY! I was tempted to trespass. I did not want to tresspass. Actually, I wanted to tresspass, but I didn't want to get caught. As it turned out, I wouldn't need to tresspass. The next moment, a bakkie stopped next to me and a guy in uniform got out to open the gate. I approached him and introduced myself. He was Frank Douglass (with two esses) and Frank was the warden in charge. And Frank liked what I was doing. And so, after a long chat, he left to go and do his conservation work and I had permission to pass without having to trespass!

The gravel soon ended where the well known Hangklip dunes had started claiming back their territory, so I had a short walk through a natural dune field, down to the beach towards Stony Point. Here I had another one of those surprising, very inspiring meetings, with complete strangers. This time, A German couple who had been staying in South Africa for six months and were due to return to their home country at the end of February. Martin was so impressed with our people here in SA, and everyone's hospitality and friendliness, that he wanted to thank everyone by contributing something small towards my effort. All they had with them at the time, were three bananas, a packet of multivitamins and a tube of foot ointment. But that made my day! The bananas were most welcome for I had not eaten breakfast, but as so many times before, it was the gesture of goodwill and generosity that touched me most. I am trying to get photographs of these people who contribute to my daily wellbeing, but every time, I am so overwhelmed, that, by the time I remember, they have gone on their way and were out of sight!

The rest of my day went well, with cool, overcast weather, the beach sand and smooth road surfaces, making the going easy. At just before six in the evening, I was walking down the main street of Kleinmond, when a small bakkie stopped across the road and a gentleman ran towards me with a bottle of juice. With a handshake and a "Keep walking, Son, we are praying for you!", he ran back to his bakkie and went off. I was, once again, humbled and rejuvinated! It was only another two blocks to the Vet's surgery where my friend Tania worked.

Day 13 - 27 January 2009

After a good night's rest, feet treated with Arnica Ice, Tania dropped me off where I finished the day before. Again, like yesterday, the weather was overcast and cool, with the prospect of a very long beach walk, which suited me just perfectly! The best thing was the texture of the sand at Kleinmond, it was firm enough to walk comfortably, but soft enough to cushion the impact of my slowly healing feet. Barefoot hiker's paradise! It was quiet along this stretch of coastline and I progressed well. Tania had told me about the enigmatic wild marsh horses of Kleinmond and I dearly wanted to catch a glimpse of them on the way.

About seven kilometres down the beach, I met a gentleman, Sarel, returning from his morning walk. As usual, he was carrying two large rubbish bags, picking up litter along the way. I was really impressed and thankful for individuals like Sarel, who still cared about our environment. He didn't throw the rubbish on the beach, he didn't need to clean up other people's mess, he wasn't getting paid to do it. No, he just liked a clean beach and took it on himself to get his hands dirty and do what he believed was neccessary. To Sarel, and all those peolple like him, a big HATS OFF! Thank you, Oom Sarel!

But Oom Sarel had more in store for me. He knew where the wild horses were. In fact, he had just passed their grazing area and had spotted nine of them. With his directions, I sped up to still catch them there. As I went through the gap between the dunes he indicated, I saw them! Four, standing knee deep in the water of the marsh. Careful not to frighten them, I slowly moved closer. They seemed completely at ease, looking up every now and again, but not showing any sign of alarm. I started taking photo's as I approached, not wanting risk getting nothing, if they did run off unexpectedly. But to my surprise, I managed to get to within twenty metres from them, counting thirteen horses in total, including a young foal of less than a year old. My day had been made and I was extatic.

One concern remained, however. The lagune at Meer-en-See was an unknown factor. I have been warned that the mouth was open and could be flowing wide, deep and strong. It was then that I remembered Shafieq, my new plumber friend from Strandfontein. And I had his number. So, on the phone to the plumber to solve my water problem. As it turns out, Shafieq had just spent the weekend at his house there and, as it befits any good fisherman, he had been down on the beach most of the weekend. He assured me that the mouth was shallow, narrow and not flowing too strong. It was a relief, because I am a hiker, but not much of a swimmer! Arriving at the edge, I put my pack down and waded through just to make sure. The sand was saturated with water and had the consistancy of quicksand. Returning for my pack, I started the fifty metre crossing with confidence. However, with the added weight of the backpack, I just sank right down into the sand. In places, the water was only ankle deep, but I plunged so deep into the sand, that my shorts got soaked! Fortunately, where the water was deeper, the sand was more sturdy and within fifteen minutes, I was out on the opposite bank, with a dry backpack and only slightly out of breath.

The last stretch of beach to Hawston went quickly. I met only one person there, Tyronne, who was taking out sand clams in the receding tide. He warned me not to take the coastal paths to Onrus, because that is where the Tik-junkies hang out and they had dogs that they set on anyone who passes by. So I followed him through the streets of Hawston to the main road to Hermanus.

It was rush hour in Hermanus and I was happy to, for once, be able to walk faster than the cars were driving. Looking at the frustrated, angry faces of the commutors, I was very glad to be on foot. By 18h15 I reached the Old Harbour in central Hermanus, my objective for the day. As agreed, Tania arrived shortly after that and we got pizza for dinner before driving back to Kleinmond where I spent the second night with her and her mom. Thanks Ladies!

Day 14 - 28 January 2009

By 9h00 Tania had me back at the Old Harbour and I was off on the Cliff Path past the front of Hermanus towards Voelklip beach, where my friend Brummer met me to accompany me all the way to De Kelders. Brummer is also a keen and experienced hiker. Like me, he prefers hiking in wild places in stead of along formal hiking trails. We chatted up a storm and before we realised, it was lunchtime and Brummer showed me the quaint little cave dwelling, in a single, freestanding rock in the middle of the beach at Sopiesklip, that was inhabited by a recluse many years ago.

The rest of the way to De Plaat at De Kelders, flew by and by 16h30, we reached the parking area of Walker Bay Nature Reserve, where Brummer was picked up by our other friend, Nzuzo, and taken back to fetch his car in Hermanus. The last stretch to my son, Duncan's flat, was just two kilometres. Along the way, I met another old friend, Sharlene, and she treated me to two slices of cake ... It was her birthday!

Dinner was at the Buitesteen Pub, with Duncan, and a bunch of friends from Gansbaai (Yzelle and I lived in De Kelders before the move to Cape Town). Present were Duncan, Brummer, Susan (who donated my backpack), Mark, Rudolph, Belinda, Florentina, Stephanie, Bennie, William and Wesley. Thank you for being there, all of you!

Day 15 - 29 January 2009

I had a meeting with Francois and Hardus at the Gansbaai Herald, so I set off into town. But, being seen as a local, I got stopped every few metres by residents who wanted to chat and encourage me. The interview with the newspapermen went very well (Francois was the first to publish an article about my walk, in November 2008 already). But getting through Gansbaai took me almost five hours! And I still had to walk to Danger Point Lighthouse and back to Kleinbaai. On the way I met another ex colleague, Phindile, who had taken clients on a tour to the lighthouse. He was so happy to see me that he stopped his vehicle right in the middle of the road to greet me. Fortunately it was a quiet road.

At 17h15, I had another telephonic interview with Johan Els of Radio Pulpit. It was a very emotional experience and, like the week before, the interview was followed by a flood of phonecalls and text messages from listeners, wishing me well and quoting bible texts in support.

I was in Kleinbaai and did not have to walk any further for the day. Uncle Thomas fetched me there and took me to their place, where I spent a wonderful evening with him and his dear wife, Mary-Ann.

Day16 - 30 January 2009

It was Friday, and I have decided to take the weekend off. The plan, from the start, was to take each Sunday off, but I had walked through my first Sunday, at Cape Point. My feet were getting better by the day and a weekend of rest would do them good. Yzelle was coming through again for the weekend and she was going to meet me in Pearly Beach in the afternoon.

I was psyched up for the day's walk and set off at a fast pace. Today I was going to break through the 300 kilometre mark and I was in a great mood. Two years prior, I had walked from Agulhas to Gansbaai, so I was familiar with this stretch of coastline. It was a sandy beach almost all the way to Pearly Beach, with just a short distance of pebbles and rocks. By 15h00 I was in Pearly Beach and feeling great. I think the prospect of a bonus day off with Yzelle just made it so much more enjoyable!

At the Pearly Beach Resort, a lady from Germany reversed her big 4x4 bakkie into Yzelle's car, leaving a barely noticable scratch on the front bumper. She was in a state of shock, apologising profusely. Despite our protests, she insisted on paying for damages and we eventually we managed to convince her that R1 000 was way too much, but we couldn't get away with accepting less than R500! She just wouldn't let us go without accepting the money. So, that meant that our campsite for the weekend was paid for! Yet another assurance that God gives us what we need when we least expect it, in ways that we could never imagine!

The weekend was great, we spent quality time together and had Sunday lunch with Uncle Thomas and Maryann, who invited us to also spend the night with them. So now I have just spent my whole Sunday afternoon bringing my diary up to date for you guys. At an age where I probably should have taken an afternoon nap!

Thank you for your incredible support! We really do appreciate it more than you could ever imagine.

Jaco Kaalvoet

2009-01-27T12:56:00.000-08:00

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!

45km down, only 6405 to go!

2009-01-16T13:28:00.000-08:00

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,

The night before Kaalvoetsolo - What has happened up to now.

2009-01-14T12:21:00.000-08:00

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