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.
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.
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