Lesotho, Kingdom in the Sky

On the road by 5.30am, and we started a mammoth journey from Addo up and into Lesotho. Awe-inspiring landscapes unfolded in front of us at every turn. We passed throbbing country towns - a hive of activity for just a few seconds - before the sparsely-populated plains of the north-eastern highlands beckoned once more. The sun was high in the sky and fluffy clouds sat atop strange rock formations that even the poet within couldn't deny look like large, generously nippled breasts (or maybe it was the sleep deprivation). The hours passed but boredom didn't set in - the scenery is just too inspiring.
In the late afternoon a group roared by on Harleys, leaving us for dust. This seems to be countryside made for bikers. We passed them an hour later, two bikers lying prone in the road, one bike smashed up, the rest of the group wandering aimlessly in shock. We stop but other locals had got there before us and it was obvious there was nothing we can do and that both bikers are not seriously injured - bar bruising and shock. It was a very real reminder of how a perfect day and a perfectly laid set of plans can be scuppered with a tiny twist of fate.
We arrived at border control in the late afternoon. We left a very formal South Africa and walked to the Lesotho passport control. African music pumped out of the small booth and three ladies sat around cooing at a chubby baby. They teaseed us at our pronunciation of the village we were going to - Malealea. It was the least official boarder crossing I have ever made and a fabulous welcome to the Kingdom in the Sky.
Lesotho is a fascinating country. To sum up their history the Basotho people are the last bastion of opposition to Dutch and British occupancy of Southern Africa. They spent most of the 19th century fending off the Boers under the leadership of King Moshoshoe and after a period under British rule in the late 1800's they have hung on to their independence by their nails. As it stands today the country couldn't be more different to it's neighbour. In just a few seconds at passport control we were transported back in time.
We followed one of the main highways through tiny villages, a hive of agricultural activity. Shepherds in the distinctive Basotho uniform of a blanket tied around neck, a pair of wellies and a bobble hat, herd cows along the roadsides and through the terraced fields. Tiny rondavels dot the countryside and the roads are lined with small huts or shipping containers proclaiming 'pay phone', 'HIV centre' (a reminder of Lesotho's frighteningly high infection rate) or 'professional hairdresser'.
We eventually turned off the pot-holed tarmac road and start to climb on a gravel track towards the Malealea lodge. Originally a trading post established in 1905 it was converted in the 1980's into a backpackers by a forward-thinking South African couple. They have set up an amazingly well-organised sustainable tourism venture. Locals are employed in all shapes and forms and a proportion of revenue goes towards one of the many community projects.
We arrived in time to sit and watch the sunset while the local choir performed. Fourteen voices warmed the cold night air and uplifted our weary spirits after a day on the road. They were followed by the local band, who impressed us with their exuberant dancing, singing and playing on homemade instruments. We settled into our simple rondavels and slept like babies.

Is that an elephant? No, it's a rock.

We woke at 5am the next morning and were on the road by 5.45am heading the Addo Elephant National Park. We were in the park by 9am, very excited about the hoards of cavorting elephants that awaited us. We set off, full of hope, binoculars and cameras at the ready. We saw some fantastic scrub and some fascinating rocks.
I'm not wholly convinced that the sedentary life of safari is for me.
The hours pass. A car stops a little away ahead and we catch up to peer into the bushes to see what they have seen. Oh, it's just some old trout who's dropped her kit-kat on the floor of the car. Mike screeches to a halt - "what's that over there?". "I think it's a goat Mike". "It can't be a goat, they don't have goats in here. Quick get the guide book and see if we can identify it. It's got four legs and it's beige. I think I can see horns". I squint through the binoculars. It might be a lion, then again it might be a rock. "I'm bored, can we go now?". "No, I've paid my money and I'm not leaving until we see a lion". We drive on. Suddenly we round a bend and there's no mistaking it - two elephants munch away in the bushes. We watch for a while and drive on and a fantastic sight unfolds in front of us. At a watering hole four or five zebras drink, twitching and keeping watch for predators. The two elephants we had spied in the bushes plod slowly across an open plain before they too reach the watering hole. The zebras give way to their larger placid friends. In the rear view mirror a perfectly choreographed ballet unfolds - three warthogs trot out in a perfect line, tails aloft. They head for watering hole and the elephants wait until they are about to take their first mouthful before they spray them and scare them away. Just for fun it seemed. It was amazing to watch. We celebrated with our backpackers lunch of choice - ryvita, peanut butter and an apple.
The afternoon brought thin pickings but the highlight for Mike was a buffalo carcass being pulled apart by jackals. The head was intact and the giant beast looked as though it was peacefully asleep. Alas, no lions but it was an interesting introduction to safari.

Wales and the whales

Our next day in Plettenburgh Bay we set off early for a walk around the Robberg nature reserve - what a walk. Again this was hiking SA style - scrambling down sheer cliffs and rock-hopping over giant boulders instead of carefully groomed paths. On this walk we had the pleasure of a huge colony of barking seals in the near distance and whales splashing out in the sunlit bay. The view from the peninsula was so amazing that I decided today was the day I needed to brave the cold and get in to the sea. We called the local kayaking centre from the top of the cliffs and booked a whale-viewing sea-kayaking experience for later in the afternoon.
We went and met Gio on the beach at 3pm and were kitted out in a deeply unflattering kit of booties, board shorts, life jackets and dry jackets. As we waited for kayaks a rather gnarly looking surfer commented "getting out and getting back in is going to be interesting". It'll be fine we thought - it didn't look that bad. Sure enough we had no problem getting out through the surf and it took just five minutes of paddling before we saw our first whales. The law here says you can only approach the whales to within 300m so we had to sit at a fair distance and watch. The most amazing thing was the noise - a loud grumbling that rippled through the water and hit you in the pit of your stomach. We watched a female and her calf wallow in the shallow water trying to evade a determined male who was trying to mate with her. She chased up and down the shallows trying to shake him off - I guess the old "not now dear, I've got a bit of a headache" doesn't cut the mustard in the whale kingdom.
After about half an hour of watching patiently our guide suddenly shouted "turn the kayaks and paddle out to sea as fast as you can" - another whale was approaching us from the side. I turned to see a giant tale flip down under water as it gained on us. Just as we started paddling, another whale popped up directly in front of us. Both whales slowly moved either side of us, eye-balling us they cruised by. We sat in electrified silence, not daring to make a sound. It was an amazing experience to eye-ball a creature from the deep.
After this, our time was up and we prepared for the paddle back in. We were both fairly relaxed after having made light work of the entry. As we started to paddle towards the shore a huge wave picked us up and we were soon heaved up and riding the wave. The kayak was digging in at the front and I was blinded by a wall of sea water, Mike paddling like mad behind me. Before we knew it, the kayak was gone and we were in a washing-machine tumble with the kayak heading in one direction, the oars in another, board shorts around our knees. We surfaced for a few seconds to see a line of pro-kayakers laughing at us before the next wave took us and we were on the spin cycle again. We limped - a bedraggled mess - up the beach, tail between our legs, as the guide and all his surf-club mates wet themselves laughing at us. To top it all off it turned out that one of the people watching was one of SA's olympic kayakers, recently returned from Beijing. We warmed up and nursed our wounded pride with a cup of hot tea.

It's Micky P time!!

Apologies in advance if you're reading this and thinking "hang on a minute, this isn't up to the usual standard of blogging that I expect".........but its my turn to keep you up to date with what's going on.

Having never been on this kind of travel before (i.e. longer than a dirty weekend), it's been quite odd for me to get used to a couple of things that are different to a normal holiday. Firstly, sticking to a budget. It's a drag, but when you're going to be on the road for a while, every penny (or rand) counts. Also, the reality is that every now and then you have to do the really dull, boring stuff like getting your washing done, getting your hair cut (I now have a personal barber - her name is Sarah, and she specializes in a number 4 all over), sorting out your finances, or just getting your phone unblocked. Most of these things and more were accomplished on the morning of our first full day in the Abalone Guest House, just outside of Plettenberg Bay. The view from the open plan top floor mainly consists of a stretch of the Indian ocean where whales and dolphins grace us with there presence. Once we got our 'chores' out of the way, we spoiled ourselves by buying a couple of steak and kidney pies from the local 'Pick & Pay' (SA's version of Tesco) and devouring them on the beach.

We then enjoyed a very dramatic walk along the coast, which tested our knowledge of local tide times, as we played Russian roulette with big waves and strong currents. Thankfully we made it back in one piece, though the walk involved some hair-raising hikes up sheer rock faces.

Eating out here is bloody good value, and with a glass of wine at just over a pound for a very full measure, we had a ball at the local Italian restaurant.

Having bought our 'Wildcard' (a pass to all of SA's nature reserves), I was determined to maximize it, so we headed to the interestingly named Tsitsikamma NP. Very dramatic coastline - possibly the most lively I have ever seen. Unfortunately a few of the good walks have been closed thanks to a one-in-a-hundred storm that has done its best to destroy a lot of the Western Cape coastline. Nevertheless, seeing the waves crashing in with such ferocity was good enough for me.

On the way back, we passed what is proclaimed to be the 'World's highest bungy bridge'. Suffice to say I had absolutely no intention of jumping to a certain death. Sarah's legs were twitching and I sensed that she was close to notching up her second act of lunacy (she first jumped off some perilous perch when she was 19). Those of you that know me will not be surprised to hear that I stubbornly stuck to my guns and made every excuse under the sun as to why I was not going to jump, and instead looked in disbelief at the fools that fell into a valley held by an elastic band. Nutters.

The highlight of the day, and I say this with all seriousness, was a visit to Monkeyland. Now before all you environmentalists start going on about animal cruelty, these furry friends have an area the size of a small country to roam about, and have a lot of fun. Sarah's family have a thing about monkeys which resonates from her grandfather's love of all things to do with primates, so she was keen to get stuck in. We took a walk through the forest as lemurs, spider monkeys, gibbons and an array of other cheeky chappies entertained us with climbing, swinging, play-fighting and ball scratching a-plenty. Mr Aucott if you are ever in SA, you have got to check this place out.

I can't quite believe what we have managed to fit in our first 10 days or so. It's all a bit of a lovely blur. Whilst I'm writing this, Sarah is cooking us dinner, and it smells good, so I will occupy your time no longer.

Just one last thing which tickled me. Speaking to our host this evening, he asked Sarah "what's your maiden name?" Sarah replied "Nock". "That's not what I expected" says our host, "your accent is 'hot potato'". "What do you mean?" we asked inquisitively. "Posh" says our host. Apparently, he was waiting for some double-barrelled affair. Priceless!

Ostrich, hippos and dolphins in just one day

Another early start - this time to drive a few hours along R62 to Oudsthoorn - home of the Ostrich. The drive there was another little slice of perfection and we arrived at Outdsthoorn in time for the morning Ostrich show. This involved holding eggs as ostriches tried to peck their way out, holding day-old chicks, standing on ostrich eggs, feeding ostriches, stroking ostrich feathers and riding ostriches. Oh, and did I mention the ostriches? There were twenty or so people on the tour and when the guide asked for a volunteer to ride the ostrich I decided to put myself forward. They helped me up "ha, ha, ha, what jolly good fun - photo please" and I felt quite comfortable. They cover the ostrich's head so that it stays calm and stays still. But not for long. The guide took the hood off the ostrich, and before I knew it I was about 40m away on the other side of the field - I don't even remember how I got there. Terrifying. Needless to say I was the first and last volunteer to ride the ostrich. Those big furry birds sure can run. Mike could not be persuaded to give it a go. Too heavy apparently. Hmmm.
Next stop..... wait for it.... a private game reserve for lunch overlooking a watering hole. We kept waiting for someone to come and escort us off the premises - this place was seriously high class. As we sipped a cool beer and shared a starter of delicious kalamari and devoured a 300g ostrich steak, a mother and baby hippo wandered by at the other side of the lake. After lunch we got chatting to one of the staff and he showed us around the private lakeside tents. The lunch cost us the princely sum of ten pounds a head.
Later in the afternoon we arrived at tonight's accommodation - a three story beach house with a 360 degree balcony on the top deck. As we chatted to the owner on the deck more whales and a school of dolphins swam in the bay just 50m from the house. We settled down for a cup of Rooibos and a sunset.

Sunday in the little Karoo

We woke up at 6am and headed off to the Bloupunt Trail, a 16km 'stroll' up a 1300m mountain and back. An early start seemed prudent.
Needless to say it was a huff and a puff to get to the top and there was lots of scrambling over rocks and climbing ladders. When we reached the summit we were rewarded with a howling gale and amazing views - awesome.
The hike back down included three detours to secluded waterfalls and meadows of gorgeous 'fynbos', that's flowers to you and me. We saw dassies (the giant rats again), and klipspringers (small deer) on the way back. We saw no-one on the entire trek and even the animals were surprised to see us. For the final hour of the trek with almost every step I disturbed a frog baking on the stones and the 'plop plop' of frogs leaping into the stream as we walked by was lovely.
We finished the day at the only restaurant in town that was open eating giant steaks and drinking some of the local red.
Another beautiful day in paradise....

Click here for photos of the first week.

Breaching, fluking, lobtailing and sailing

On Saturday we woke early and set off through a bracing dawn to Hermanus, home of all things Whale. The sun shone and the haze slowly burned away as we headed around the ocean road. I was trying desperately hard not to get my hopes up for a whale sighting and when we arrived at Hermanus I almost didn't look at the sea for fear of being disappointed. There was no need to be so cautious.
As we approached the rocks in the mouth of the bay a southern right whale was just a few metres off shore and countless other whales swam around just a few metres further out. Twenty or so early-morning whale watchers stood in silent awe as the giants of the sea skirted the shore. Twenty not-so-silent children and me exclaimed at every movement - a glimpse of a head (breaching), a flick of a tail (fluking or sailing), and then finally we were rewarded with the closest whale performing a great big belly roll right in front of us (belly-flopping - ha ha). Mike had to hang on to me for fear I'd fall in through excitement. We topped off a lovely morning by drinking lattes at a very swanky cafe on the cliffs and planning the next couple of weeks.
As if a morning of whale watching wasn't enough we found a restaurant serving giant bowls of seafood to live jazz. Neither of us can quite believe we are able to do all this on our backpackers budget.
We left Hermanus in the late afternoon and drove a quiet road inland to Montagu in the Little Karoo - a sleepy, remote farming town. The drive there was overwhelming, as we crossed each ridge another breathtaking vista unfolded in front of us. Newborn lambs skipped in the afternoon sun, birds took flight as we passed by and the greens of the countryside with the snow capped mountains behind were almost too much to believe. We met maybe two other cars on a two hour drive.
We arrived in the late afternoon to our farm stay at 'De Bos'. A Cape Dutch style farmhouse was nestled amongst pecan trees. For ten pounds a night we had two adjoining rooms and en suite bathroom in an old barn. The owner showed us around "you can play with the puppies, but don't let them into the yard as they chase the chickens. If you go round the back of the stable the peacocks are performing at the moment so don't miss that. In the end field are our ostriches - they have chicks with them at the moment so be careful about approaching them.....". Needless to say, we both melted into a little puddle on the floor - this was just too much for us after a day of perfection.

When it rains...it is bloody cold and quite irritating actually

Yesterday was a complete washout. We crawled along the N2 towards Stellenbosch, past seemingly endless townships with tarpaulin roofs providing little respite from the downpour. We stopped briefly at a tourist information centre and I sprinted in through golf ball sized raindrops to get a map. When I returned we sat in the car to look at the maps and a second later a stream or river nearby burst it's banks, rocks and undergrowth hurtled towards the car on a torrent of brown slurry and Mike had to pull a wheelspin to get out of there, and fast. I was already starting to imagine the headlines 'Ill equipped and wreckless tourists from Great Britain washed to sea during the worst storms in 50 years'. While I let my imagination run wild, Mike concentrated on getting us there safely.

Today however, the sun shone again and we set off with "Tiritiri", the world's most offbeat tour guide on a wine tour. To be honest, my wine education has not really improved. I vaguely remember something useful about Pinotage this morning before the best of the wine region disappeared in a blur of singalong guns'n'roses and endless quaffing. This was wine tasting South African style - no spit bucket, just "swallow and follow" and on to the next one. There was also a lot of cheese. Mike took the same approach to the cheese tasting as he does to a hotel buffet breakfast. He had to be forcibly removed.

We're now sitting in the youth hostel bar deciding what to do next.....drinking on seems to be the best option. Toodle pip.

Our African furry (ish) friends

Another day, another post. The result of free internet, and lots of excitement.

Today involved baboons, seals, penguins, dassies, sore bottoms, a Nissan Tiida and two horses.

Let's start with the horses. Fuelled by an excellent dinner of crocodile carpaccio and ostrich steaks last night we got up at 6am and hit the road in our new wheels. I had heard about a beach ride just south of Cape Town that I just had to do - white sand and a spectacular backdrop. Mike has never ridden before but he was up for it so we booked a two hour ride first thing this morning. Thanks to the awful weather of the previous few days we were the only people to have booked and we had a private ride on 'Roxxy' and 'Fritz' on an almost deserted beach. The sun shone, the sand twinkled and we were allowed to let rip. Our guide from Imhoff Farm was excellent - she gave Mike so much confidence and by the end of the first hour we were allowed to go off for a canter (I was allowed to go on ahead and the canter turned into a gallop - all I could do was shout 'whoop whoop', with my heart in my mouth, as the beach disappeared under Roxxy's hooves). Mike loved it and we're looking into a 2-day trek in Lesotho the week after next.

Next we headed to Cape Point and went for a lovely walk through the national park where we bumped into snakes, dassies (strange giant-rat creatures with no tails who are related to elephants) and lizards along the trail. We trekked down to a deserted beach. 250 steep steps down and then a scramble down a near-vertical sand dune to get onto a beautiful powder-soft beach. Just as we got to the foot of the cliffs a seal plopped up the beach and settled in for a sunbathe - we were able to get within just a few feet of him and we sat and watched for a while. Next stop - via a slight delay on the road as a family of baboons cavorted by - was the penguins at Boulders Beach. What a lovely day.

Sometimes it rains in Africa

When I pictured Cape Town, I imagined white sandy beaches, bikinis and flips flops, water sports and sunshine. OK, so it's spring, but the guide books said mid-high 20's and slightly changeable weather. Instead we've had to drag the hats and gloves out of the bottom of our packs, dig out the rain coats and enjoy an interesting climate that combines the wetness of Wales and the changeable nature of say Cornwall (rain one minute, sun the next and wind that would freeze the proverbial extremities off a brass monkey).

Would this damp our enthusiasm? Not a chance.

Yesterday we took a township tour. Interesting to learn about the history of the townships and to see how vast they are, but the tour felt quite sanitised. One excellent aspect of the tour was that the guide Njongo was from a township and he had been sponsored through college to train as a guide. He sang for us in the car on the way down to the townships which was beautiful. The highlight for everyone was a visit to a day care centre. 25 or so angelic children sitting in a circle singing softly with a matronly teacher beaming at them. She said something to them in the amazing clicking language of the townships and the next thing we knew we were mobbed. It was like a scene from Gulliver's Travels. Mike's bag was trampled to the ground and he had three tiny people on his head and one wrapped around each thigh before you could say "click click". I felt teeny hands grabbing at my camera, my hair, my belt and before I knew it the kids were actually climbing me. It was hilarious. After our mauling session the kids sang for us - it was totally charming.

In the afternoon we planned to climb Table Mountain or Robbin Island - both were closed because of the weather. Today we awoke again hoping to do the same - again high winds. So we hooked up with two other travellers and decide to climb up and down the mountain. Zero visibility from the top and we were soaked to the skin, but lots of fun nevertheless and from half way up we got a great view of Cape Town.

Tomorrow brings a trip around the Cape Peninsula and horse riding..... the shark diving is TBC.

Oh Vee count - 0 (not a chance it would survive this rain!)

Oh Vee, Oh My

A tent. It's not really that much of a big deal is it? A few sheets of nylon, a zip to get in, a couple of sturdy pegs, some poles, and voila! A home to call your own. This is why rather than opt for the North Face Super-Snail, All-weather RX2107 I opted for the little known, brand 'Oh Vee'. No-one has ever heard of it. The Oh Vee website is under construction. It sells - brand new - on ebay for less than £50 and it has a spec that rivals the best on the market. Curiosity gets the better of me. I just have to have it.
We set it up in the living room for a test run. The poles seem to be suffering from a rare form of osteoporosis, the pegs are made of lead and the tent itself really has to be seen to be believed. It's wonky. A large label proclaims 'Made in China' to those lucky enough to make it inside.
I give it two sleeps, Mike reckons 'at least' twenty. So, we have decided that for each night the Oh Vee accommodates us, we will donate £1 to my friend Boo's charity - the Lepaura Clinic, part of Lewa Wildlife Conservancy in Kenya. Watch this space. The Oh Vee Sleepathon begins next week...
http://www.ohvee.co.uk/