There are two parts to this page: the
Travel Facts section, and the
Diary section.
Key Travel Facts - Details that other overlanders might like to know
(back to
Top)
· How to use a ‘4-way stop’: all cars must stop at the junction before proceeding with priority in the same order as they arrived. Sometimes works surprisingly well, but normally doesn’t.
· Shipping Cape Town to UK: used Kenco Clearing agents and highly recommend them – helpful, well informed, competitive. Tel Carol 021 5117147 or fax 021 5117110. Cost 15,000 Rand incl paperwork, insurance and shipping in container. Expect a further 500 GBP to clear UK paperwork. Takes approx 14 days sailing time.
DIARY - How we're getting on, and what we've been up to
(back to
Top)
Nights spent sleeping in proper buildings: More. The budget is blown towards the end.
Number of punctures: None. Great roads.
Number of cock-ups: None. Have learnt from experience.
Treating ourselves: Cape Agulhas Country Lodge, complete with jacuzzi.
Slumming or Adventuring it: Blaukrans Bungee and sleeping in someone’s shed.
Having found a safe spot we pulled over to jump and shout with excitement at having arrived, and having crossed our last border. Shortly after we got back into the car and carried on.
South Africa initially felt so European: Full dual-carriageway roads with central reservations, plenty of supermarkets, and a significant proportion of white people doing ‘normal’ jobs like driving trucks or working in supermarkets. Having puzzled unsuccessfully at a few ‘four-way stops’ as to how they operated, and continuing cautiously none the wiser, we made our way to Pretoria. We found a backpackers with secure parking in a ‘cage’, though we were advised to park as far in a possible to prevent people reaching through from the street and stealing rear-lights!
JOHANESBURG
The next day we visited the Apartheid museum in Johanesburg which was excellently presented. On arrival we were randomly presented with two ‘entry tokens’ – one black, and one white. We would only be permitted to enter through our respective doors, and it was a powerful way to experience what a truly arbitrary separation it was. We were both shocked by the level of persecution and violence, whilst it was also interesting to learn about the broader history of South African labour. Leaving the museum it was easier to understand the current high-crime levels across much of South Africa.
We decided to spend a night in Harrismith since that was about as far as we could get, and we checked into a backpackers. Having understood that there was a double room available the owner led us round to the back-yard to show us the room. On our way round she popped into the garden shed to pick something up… or actually to show us our ‘room’. We were to sleep in an only slightly modified shed! The shed was actually fine, and by thinking of it more as an ‘Alpine Chalet’ we convinced ourselves that we had got a pretty good deal. We went into town to spend our first night in a Pub for quite some time.
After a walk at Giant’s Castle in the Drakensburg Mountains to see the rock art, where aside from the paintings the peculiar zulu-english commentary was equally memorable, we made our way to Moi River. Commentary was “Tall man running from kudu. Don’t know why”. You probably had to be there really. Anyway, on the way into Moi River we stopped at a Guest House where the owner kindly reduced her rates to fit our budget, and left us to one of our nicest nights. The room was lovely, and we enjoyed a braii out on our own terrace area.
DURBAN
We arrived in Durban, finding my Uncle and Aunt’s house easily enough, though we were rather disappointed to discover that Steve and Pauline still hadn’t finished the tiling in the guest suite. (Only joking!!) Pauline had promised that this would be ready at our leaving do, and it was one of the main reasons for the trip. It was great to see them, and especially nice since they had been at the send-off where Pauline exclaimed that Gina was “Such a brave girl”. Pauline reconfirmed this now.
We had a great time in Durban, which is a really lovely city. We visited some of the newer shopping centres, watched artificial surf machines, saw dad’s old elective hospital, and visited an old country club. Meeting up with Adrian and Jo, Steve Jnrs friends, we went out for some food in town (Kat-man-Du), followed by drinks (Billy the Bums) and actually stayed out past midnight (just)! Adrian gave Nigel the chance to fly his kite-surfing kit on the beach the next day, a chance to pull off some big jumps before getting dragged upside down across the beach. “I was styin’ bro”, or something like that!
Lashaka, the aquarium, was well laid out and full of fish, but the most memorable exhibit was the octopus for the Japanese family viewing it – the mum was keen to explain to the children how the octopus used its Testicles to move around. We both agreed we would love to be a fly-on-the-wall when that kid does the ‘What did you do at the weekend’ slot on Monday.
We spent an evening with cousin John Jnr and family Gillian, Jessica and Jason. It was good to see John after a long gap, and to meet the others. Heading back to Steve’s place late at night in his car, we had the worst car trouble yet with billows of white smoke eventually gushing from the bonnet and total loss of power. We were able to fetch Forbie to tow the Peugeot up the pretty steep hill back to their house, where we hope they have been able to sort out the problem.
Leaving Durban for East London followed a long drive. Whilst the scenery was lovely, not much was more memorable than the amusingly named town of Collywobbles.
EAST LONDON
East London was a chance for Gina to meet more of the in-laws-to-be. John and Hillary gave us a lovely welcome, and we also met Kim and Dion’s two children, Michelle and Megan, complete with plenty of energy. We enjoyed walking along Nahoon Bay and visiting Ganubie for a swim in the fresh Pacific rollers. It was also a good chance to generally relax and get to know family after a long gap!
The drive down to Storm’s River Mouth was fairly long, broken only by a stop-off at Bira Crafts to spend lots of money.
The next day’s drive towards Cape Agulhas passed by Blaukrans Bridge, site of the highest bungee in the world. Having been duped into thinking I had done this previously in New Zealand, I was keen to do the real one though the weather was terrible. We stopped off to check it out, and with the rain clearing decided to take the plunge. Groan. As first out onto the bridge for the day I was sure to check that they had first tested the kit for night-time fatigue. I was a little disappointed to find out that I was the test. The jump was as exhilarating as you would expect for a 216m free-fall, where the first bounce is actually higher than the Vic Falls bungee (there was a plethora of similar facts but that is the only one that stuck). Lots of screaming on my part, and I gave up trying to identify the café on the rock-face where Gina would be watching me in horror, poor thing. Then time for breakfast. As I said that it was a great way to start the day, Gina commented that she preferred a cup of tea. Certainly a lot cheaper.
CAPE AGULHAS – the end of a journey
Feeling invigorated we headed onto Cape Agulhas, the Southernmost point on the African Continent. We had only actually discovered this geographical oddity a week or so earlier, and with reluctance decided that the 200km detour to this cape would be necessary before hitting Cape Town. We supposed this was preferable to returning to England to perhaps find ourselves chatting in the pub one evening to someone about our drive to Cape Town. “Oh, and I suppose you passed through Cape Agulhas just to close off the continent then?” Bugger.
In fact our Guide Book commented that those driving overland from further north would probably find themselves drawn towards visiting the cape, and on this point they were right. But they had also postulated that the cape itself was in fact vastly anticlimactic, and on this point they could not have been further from the truth. In fact we immediately decided that it was our favourite place in South Africa, and I don’t think that this was solely due to the significance it held for us. The Cape was perfect: rocky and barren, protruding out from the land around it, with large crashing seas all around. The plaque reminds you that you are at “The Southernmost point on the African continent”, and that to the East lies the Indian Ocean and to the West the Atlantic. To make it perfect, there was not a Baz Bus in sight.
We shared our celebration (read “big hug with huge smiles”) with a couple out from the Peak District in England, visiting their children who had settled out here. They were interested to hear about our trip and when they heard we were to get married in July they exclaimed that if our marriage was as long and happy as theirs, then we would have lovely lives together. We took this to be a pleasant omen.
Leaving the Cape, and encouraging Gina to wipe the stupid beaming smile that had now been sitting on her face for far too long, we returned to Cape Agulhas Country Lodge. This place would normally have blown our budget for an entire month, but we were keen to make the night special and had gone in to find out about availability. As it happened only the two Honeymoon suites were available, and we were bowled over when the sympathetic manager, on hearing about our journey, reduced the rates to fit to our (stretch) budget. We settled into our lavish Jacuzzi corner-bath for well below half the normal rates.
Later the food was the best five course meal (and in fact the only five course meal) we had had since leaving Weymouth, with beautiful strips of Springbok for the main course. The wine was pretty good too, and the waiter continued to share in our joy at having completed our trip. After dinner we returned to our room to make the most of it (there was a DVD player).
ONTO CAPE TOWN
Making a leisurely (and slightly hung-over) start we continued along the coast towards Cape Town. This meant that we got to enjoy our last short stretch of dirt-track driving, an opportunity to ponder why the Kenyans (for example) cannot make their dirt-roads even half as well as the South Africans, and to pass through Gansbaai, home to Great White Shark diving and viewing. Arriving just in time for the last boat trip of the day, we had to take a rain-check when the price turned out to be a staggering 850 Rand (85GBP) per person.
So, we continued on towards Cape Town quietly commenting on the number of high-spec road bikes headed in the same direction (on cycle carriers). Arriving in Cape Town it took about five minutes to understand that we would not find accommodation: it was the weekend of the Cape Argus cycle tour, and 38,000 cyclists (plus families, partners, pom-pom girls) had descended on Cape Town. Not one to give up, we spent a further two hours trying, and then gave up.
Further down the coast in Houte Bay we found a lovely guest house and checked in for the last phase of Gina’s holiday. It even had a swimming pool and the sea was right out the back (though the sea was now bloody Baltic!)
Our first day in Houte Bay was spent doing ‘housework’. We had decided to put this day aside to the ‘sorting Forbie’ effort, be it shipping or selling, so we set about making numerous phone-calls to prospective buyers. We didn’t actually make much solid headway, but discovered a few possible leads for later. More progress was made emptying out the bagfuls of crap that had accumulated over the journey, and hovering and wiping until the car reached a state where we felt we could show people. We were both actually rather proud of our efforts, and wondered why we hadn’t done it several months earlier!
Sunday was the Cape Arghus cycle event, so with all the surrounding roads closed we took this as a sign to spend time on the local beach which was still lovely and still Baltic. We even fitted in a boat trip to the nearby seal-island to see the (you guessed it), seals.
Fully recharged we set off the next day with a packed itinerary. First stop was Table Mountain where we had agreed to take the cable car up, then do a walk around the top to McClear’s Beacon (the highest point) before descending down Platterklip Gorge. The views were stunning, and though we could not quite appreciate the necessity for the cape to be deemed a unique “Floral Kingdom” (one of only about seven – the others are roughly continent size), we enjoyed the plateau. The walk down was slightly less pleasant, as the monotonous knee-high boulder steps began to pay their toll on our knees, and the sun’s heat kicked in. As the group ahead warned us of a puff adder that they had just seen, Gina decided that she was definitely not enjoying it.
After buying a suitcase (well three actually since it was such a good deal) we headed towards Boulders Beach to see the penguins. They were pretty cool to watch, waddling round the land and ‘flying’ gracefully through the water.
Our next trips out were to Robben Island, used as home for all kinds of ‘undesirables’ through the centuries: slaves, lepers, political and criminal prisoners, and most famously Nelson Mandela. The tour was interesting, especially since the Tour Guides are all ex-political prisoners who now work alongside their old prison warden staff. A quite amazing tribute to the goal of Reconciliation.
THE END OF A JOURNEY FOR ONE
And then it was time for Gina to go home. Well, nearly. First we went out for a superb meal at the Butcher’s Grill in Hout Bay where Gina demolished her mixed grill either to make the most of her last huge portion of meat for a while, or because it was superb!
A far-too-early start and Gina was waved off onto her flight, rather annoyingly under-weight on the baggage allowance since we had decided she was so far over. Only a few tears on Gina’s part as she was quite annoyed to break at the last moment. Adorable.
So many people rave about the ‘lone travelling experience’ that I was quite curious to try it out for a bit. I have never really done it before for more than a day or so, so although this was still a short stint of three days it would give me another taster. But first to work with another day making calls to shipping agents and following up with prospective buyers – this time with more progress, especially on the shipping front.
Heading into Cape Town’s centre, I checked into a backpackers and made myself comfortable in the dorm. Or at least dumped a towel to mark my spot (there were Germans around so I considered this a cautious move). Whilst I met up with plenty of people at the backpackers and enjoyed meeting new people, and even ventured out on a ‘party night out’ on the Thursday (St Patrick’s Day provided a good excuse) it has not swung me round to the lone-travellers outlook. Whenever I was looking at some large historic building, strolling around the Islamic Bo Kapp area, relaxing by the swimming pool, enjoying a drink at one of the street cafes, or whatever, I always felt that I would be enjoying it more if I had the company of a good mate (Gina included). Just the way I am I guess.
In search of a bit of rock climbing I ventured out into the suburbs where the tourist brochure assured me that I would find an indoor rock climbing wall at the sports centre. I hoped ideally to hook up with a group who might be up for some outside climbing on table mountain, or at least to get some climbing done on the wall. Disappointingly the wall turned out to have been closed for some years, and was more of a novelty wall in a shopping mall anyway. So, instead of climb I retired to the bar to chat with someone who had expressed an interest in Forbie in the carpark (Forbie currently sports a large ‘For Sale’ sign). Josef and his mates turned out to be from Tanzania, so we had a good chat about that and I think I quite impressed them all with my grasp of Swahili. Or at least amused them. It was already quite rusty, so I made a mental note to polish it up with Gina back in England. We could while away evenings again asking for guest-houses and roast goat again. Needless to say Josef didn’t really materialise as a buyer (cash-flow problems whilst waiting for the next delivery of Tanzanite stone to come through) but we exchanged numbers in case his situation improved. I headed back to the hostel.
By Friday I was bored of cape town for a while and decided to move out along the coast in search of a beach. My original plan had been to do some windsurfing, but predictably I had now chosen the first calm day of the week. After driving out through miles of Africaans housing estates that I didn’t really fancy staying in, I discovered a Caravan Park that would do. I hadn’t stayed in a ‘Caravan Park’ in South Africa (or indeed anywhere) and it turned out to be enormous and with a good swimming pool. The town, not far away, proved a good spot for a Calamari Steak whilst enjoying the sun-set over the sea.
DAD ARRIVES.
Another early start to head out to the airport, and I was soon waving at Dad as he emerged through the Arrivals gate. The Virgin Upper Class had been escorted through twenty minutes earlier, so I knew he was on his way.
It was really good to see him, and after the excited greetings and hugs we were out to join Forbie and head out to Houte Bay, via a parcel collection in town and a pancake breakfast at the V&A Waterfront. Dad was suitably impressed by the set-up at Houte Bay, with our own swimming pool and opening out onto the sand dunes. Petra gave us a friendly welcome, and to me it felt like I had returned home.
We enjoyed the cape peninsula, visiting the penguins at Boulders Beach (who were still cute), walking around Cape of Good Hope and Cape Point (subtly different), and spending a morning at Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens. The definition of Fynbos, the apparently unique cape plant classification, is still a mystery beyond understanding that it is made up of four apparently independent and unrelated plant-types.
Food seemed to go from superb to better, as we spent each night marvelling that it could be better than the night before. We also revisited the Butcher’s Grill for another fantastic steak and discovered Chateau Libertas, a ‘hit and miss’ wine – fine, since ours was a ‘hit’.
TOUR AROUND THE WESTERN CAPE
Leaving Houte Bay, we set off to find a campsite along the coast, towards Cape Agulhas. We had planned to meet ‘Derick’ a potential buyer of Forbie, but this fell through making it look increasingly likely that we would be shipping her back. Instead we pottered along, stopping at the viewpoint to look back over Cape Town and then again for a cup of tea and scone.
Soon we were winding our way down a dirt-track in search of a camp-site that had been signed from the main road somewhere between Pearly Bay and Die Dam. We were passing through a small Africaans ‘settler-type’ village that was still established as a fishing settlement and looked largely unchanged since the sixteen-hundreds. We later read in a newspaper article that the journalist at least, agreed with us.
The camp-site was about as barren and isolated as they come, and asides from three Africaaners staying in their permanent holiday chalet we had the camp site to ourselves. Once we had persuaded the security guard to first talk to us, and then convinced him that the campsite could not possibly be ‘Full’ as he first explained, we found ourselves a plot. We think perhaps he had meant Closed.
After a freezing cold swim (well, dip) in some fairly large swell, on a beautiful beach that we had all to ourselves, we hurried back up to the campsite for a cold shower, before starting up the braii. I really thought that the days of cold showers had passed. As the coals began to settle down on the braii, the security guy arrived to fiddle with the wash blocks before announcing cheerily that there would now be hot water. We had a good braii, complete with salad, before retiring up to the roof-tent. Most exciting for Dad as he prepared to spend his first night sleeping on the roof.
We made a leisurely start, first going for another swim and then braving another cold shower, before heading off for Agulhas. We stopped off at Elim, which everyone had said was lovely, and it was. Very remote, and very colourful pretty buildings. Soon we were at Agulhas, enjoying the plaque and checking into our campsite.
Later in Swellendam we settled into the campsite, saving our money for food and wine instead. It turned out to have been well worth it as we enjoyed our dinner at Koornlands Restaurant – a rustic and totally unpretentious restaurant in a very traditional building. It felt like having dinner in someone’s front room, and the food was quite amazing. We were pleased not to have opted for the six-course “Degustation” since we were both hardly able to move after only three. A true competitor to the Hungryman Challenge at Bowleaze cove, though possibly a different quality bracket.
Next stop was Franschoek, but not before stopping of at the Hot Springs near Montagu, a chance to relax in the warm pools and enjoy some sun. The drive through was wonderful, passing through the Burger and Hex River mountain passes, before re-joining the main road. Forbie failed us only briefly by failing whole-heartedly to start after parking up at one of the view points. Fortunately, being at the top of a pass we were in a good position to roll off, and ‘push start’. It would be that pesky starter motor playing up again, and now any auto-electrician or garage would be closed until Tuesday – the long Easter Weekend had just begun. Worcester proved to be too Industrial, and Villiersdorp too Dorpy (we should have seen that coming), so we ended up in Franschoek which was fine. Arriving quite late and after a hard day (we had spent hours battling it out at the Hot Springs) we checked into a lovely guest house.
Franschoek is the place for wine-tasting and vineyards, so we went off to join in the fun. Achim would be our charismatic imitation-French host to the Pierre Jourdan vineyard, as his ramble took us through the joys of vine planting, soil selection, wine tasting, and finally to sales. The talk was entertaining, punctuated with anecdotes and interesting facts (such as their ‘champagne’ is 55% Pinot Noir, yet retains a characteristic champagne colour). Achim was passionate about his wine, and it turned out that we had chosen one of the few ‘champagne’ producing vineyards. In fact, we had apparently chosen the best – “We can’t call our product Champagne, but they can’t call theirs Pierre Jourdan so it’s a bit of a stale mate.” The talk climaxed with the Sabrage ceremony, in which Achim gets to haul women from the audience to partake in removing a champagne cork with a saber. Not quite a swash-buckling as you might imagine, but entertaining nonetheless and Achim is certain to get plenty of kisses from it all.
Of course the main event of the tour is the tasting which I had believed if done properly involved a small sip then carefully spat out into a bowl. Some people had told me of tours where they had actually swallowed the wine, but these stories were normally expected to induce admiration at their debauchery. At Pierre Jourdan the set-up is such that audience peer-pressure ensures everyone finishes every glass, so by the end of the talk with the full range sampled (whites, reds, champagne, brandy and aperertifs) everyone is in a jolly mood for buying by the box-load. So we did. Actually having decided that Forbie would now be shipped back to England, and with a wedding on the horizon, this was a good opportunity to get stocked up.
The whole event had felt a little bit like a Timeshare Sales meeting (I would imagine), but it had been good fun and we had bought what we wanted. Now it was time to lounge around and sober up.
Moving on from Franschoek we headed for Stellenbosch where we spent some time wandering around and enjoying a coffee and muffin. We knew that we were in the right area since walking tours kept passing by. Stellenbosch was a pretty town, but much larger than Franschoek and we left pleased that we had not spent the night there.
CAPE TOWN
Arriving in Cape Town we headed straight for Fawlty Towers which we had pre-booked. Sadly, Fawlty Towers turned out to be everything you would expect from a Baz Bus discount hostel, and not quite what Dad and I were looking for to spend a few days relaxing in Cape Town. Picture a seedy filthy room, with “don’t give an arse” management, and a generally unpleasant ambiance and you are not far from it. We forfeited our deposit in favour for a much nicer guest house (Brenwin Guest House) just up the road where we settled into our pool-side flat. Much nicer.
Keen to enjoy our first day we headed out for Table Mountain planning on a relaxing cable-car round trip. Despite the glorious clear skies it was evidently blowing a gale on the top and the cable car wasn’t running – we headed instead for Lion’s Head, a notable mountain peak above Cape Town. Cajoling Dad up the track with myself I was slightly perturbed when we hit the ‘Chain Section’ which involved using chains and bolted-handles to pull yourself up vertical rock faces, but Dad took to the challenge and aside from one slightly hair-raising moment involving a flailing foot and help from a fellow ‘climber’ we made it to the top in style. The view over Cape Town was fantastic, and we had got far more exercise than a cable car ride.
As reward for our ‘mountaineering’ endeavours we headed straight for the luxurious Mount Nelson Hotel where we enjoyed the fabulous buffet lunch. Not many buffet lunches offer oysters and freshly barbequed steak.
SHIPPPING TIME
Soon it was time to send Forbie back to England, so having loaded ourselves up with the appropriate amount of cash we headed off for the depot. We had decided to use Kenco Clearing and Shipping agents as Carol was always helpful and patient on the phone, as well as well-informed. We highly recommend them. Arriving at their offices I was amazed to find the same couple we had camped with in Arusha, Tanzania. Having the same model of Landcruiser, we had taken a photo which dad had recognised. They were shipping in a few weeks. The paperwork was completed quickly enough, and soon we were heading down to the port from their depot.
We scraped through our customs inspection with mountains of champagne tucked away in various nooks and crannies (those coming to our wedding will be able to sample the contraband), and drove on into the container with just 2cm clearance in the height. Perfect.
In jubilation of such a smooth shipping experience, I went for a run with dad along to sea point where we ended up going for a swim in the sea-water swimming pool. It was lovely, but the spontaneity of it made for a cold wet bus ride home.
TOWNSHIP TOUR
I was keen to do a township tour to see what the townships were really like, and to get a feel for life inside, but at the same time I found myself cringing slightly at the thought of becoming yet another tourist to be mini-bussed around the sites. Still, we decided to go.
Rather than feeling like Michael Palin as I often had done previously, I now felt more like Prince Charles as we were chauffeured around the township. Probably helped by the couple accompanying us who were out from England to Help in a township near Port Elizabeth for three months. They had no idea what they would be doing, but saw this as a good introduction and were very clear that they “would not be working too hard”. They were particularly good at providing the appropriately patronizing observations and encouragement that you might expect: “Ooooh gosh. Isn’t that lovely. You really are good at that aren’t you”, and so on. Dad and I stifled giggles in the background.
Our first visit was to Golden who had previously been working in the mines near Johanesburg. His wife had been extremely (and understandably) concerned about his safety and encouraged him to leave work and to move down to a township in the cape, where they now were. It had been very difficult for them to find work, and then one night Golden had a dream that he was surrounded by flowers. Now, his wife told him to stop dreaming and to get work, but when Golden had the same dream the following night he felt he had to act. Golden now makes all kinds of flowers from old soft drink cans, selling them to shops at the trendy V&A Waterfront, who then sell them on to tourists. The local kids help collect the cans, which Golden buys off them, so it even helps to keep the township clean.
In fact, inside the township is remarkably developed and quite different to what I had been expecting based on views from the passing motorway. The roads are mostly tarred, all the dwellings have toilets, electricity and running water, and the core facilities are good: shops, supermarkets, eateries, swimming pools, magistrate courts and bars.
Next stop was at Rosie to visit the Kitchen. Rosie is a single mother who has previously been forced to re-start her life after a fire in a neighbour’s shack spread to hers, burning it to the ground. She saved her children, but still bears the scars. Inspired to do something about all of the children in the township who struggle to get food, Rosie worked with the Catholic Church to set up a communal kitchen from her shack. Rosie now feeds about two-hundred children every morning, who are bought to school via her house. The children are asked to pay 30c. (about 3p) for each meal, but any contribution is accepted, and if children are unable to make contributions then the Catholic Church will try to help out with a coupon system. Rosie then uses the proceeds to buy food for the next day. Her inspirational work has encouraged similar women to start running kitchens, and there are now over fifty around the Cape Town area.
Vicky, disillusioned by the number of tourists passing by on the way from the airport into Cape Town has set up her own Bed and Breakfast (“South Africa’s smallest hotel”) so that people can now stay in the township. It has been a big success, and more have now started up.
The visit was great in that for me it was like stepping back to the ‘rest of africa’. The township was so much more like the life we had seen further North – the conditions were basic, but people were friendly, the kids loved playing, we felt safe, and people made the best of what they had. Admittedly a positive spin was put on the whole trip, and the townships are not without their problems, but it was refreshing to see how strong the communities are and some of the positive stories to come out of those lives.
I was not surprised to learn that in the four years our guide has been running these tours, at a rate of two-per-day, that only three white south-africans have been on them with him.
Our last day in Cape Town, and my last day in Africa, was spent at the Sea Point salt-water swimming pool burning off some energy before the flight home. It had been a fantastic trip – the best thing we have ever done – and it felt very strange for it all to be coming to an end.