HIBISCUS COAST LINE
Going from the north coast to the east coast was heavy going, but mainly because we were getting used to our environment, and of course our gear. The scenery was something out of this world and the beaches great. The towns were so much closer to each other, in fact, virtually on top of each other, the further east we progressed. Very cute little holiday towns where nothing much happened out of season. It was excruciatingly hot and humid, but it made me feel alive and energized.
The people were amazing, but virtually everyone we met, thought that we were mad. There were even those who were becoming cross with us for not heeding to the dangers. The closer we got to the Transkei coastline, or otherwise known as the Wild Coast, more and more people were telling us about how rough and dangerous that was, and we especially met those who have hiked it before, who didn’t think we’d make it past Mzamba. What everyone failed to mention, was that there were no roads, whatsoever, or atm, or anything that someone who travels light, might be into. Anyway, scared out of our wits, we embarked on this piece of untouched heaven like aliens, popping up like mushrooms, wherever we went, which left locals mesmerized.
Tuesday, 28 August 2007
DECEMBER 2004
THE WILD COAST
Craziest thing was the fact that we had to literally drag our bicycles through sandy beaches, carry them over mountains, and swim with them through river mouths. Keep in mind that our bikes weighed anything between 70 & 80kgs, depending on the amount of water we carried at any given time. Dante and Katryn were still puppies, so they couldn’t always keep up, and wanted to remain in their baskets, which made things a little more difficult. Every day here, was a challenge, both mentally and physically. We would wake up with the breaking of a new day, push forward, and it would be dark before we stopped. The most debilitating thing to do, was check the distance traveled on the meter at the end of the day, because it was rarely anything more than 7kms. There was no cell phone signal. We ran out of cash, and had to trade cell phones, or anything worth something, in order to eat, and we ran out of water once, for 2 days. It wasn’t so much that there wasn’t any water around, but we just didn’t know where to find it, plus we were so intend on moving forward, that we forgot the basic rules of survival, and catching up dew with the tent. What was brilliant about this stretch of coastline was that after each grueling day, we could look around, and still be thankful for being where we were.
One of the reasons I love the Transkei so much, is because this was one of the truly mystical places along our way. We got stuck in the most hectic of places, and were destitute many times, but every time, out of nowhere, someone would appear, usually with a biblical name of sorts, to help us out of our predicament, only to disappear in the same mysterious way. The stretch between Mzamba and Port St Johns, is spectacular, untouched, and has an unbelievable energy. Most of our challenges were met here, especially those I set for myself. It was here that I realized that nothing is impossible. The transition in coming back to civilization was something we hadn’t anticipated. The simplicity, and ruggedness of the Transkei, weighed up against a busy East London, where electricity was something that happened with the flick of a switch, and water was available on tap. It took us a whole week to adjust to this change, and I would say this was because, once you go without something, you learn to appreciate the things you take for granted, and very few people understood this.
Craziest thing was the fact that we had to literally drag our bicycles through sandy beaches, carry them over mountains, and swim with them through river mouths. Keep in mind that our bikes weighed anything between 70 & 80kgs, depending on the amount of water we carried at any given time. Dante and Katryn were still puppies, so they couldn’t always keep up, and wanted to remain in their baskets, which made things a little more difficult. Every day here, was a challenge, both mentally and physically. We would wake up with the breaking of a new day, push forward, and it would be dark before we stopped. The most debilitating thing to do, was check the distance traveled on the meter at the end of the day, because it was rarely anything more than 7kms. There was no cell phone signal. We ran out of cash, and had to trade cell phones, or anything worth something, in order to eat, and we ran out of water once, for 2 days. It wasn’t so much that there wasn’t any water around, but we just didn’t know where to find it, plus we were so intend on moving forward, that we forgot the basic rules of survival, and catching up dew with the tent. What was brilliant about this stretch of coastline was that after each grueling day, we could look around, and still be thankful for being where we were.
One of the reasons I love the Transkei so much, is because this was one of the truly mystical places along our way. We got stuck in the most hectic of places, and were destitute many times, but every time, out of nowhere, someone would appear, usually with a biblical name of sorts, to help us out of our predicament, only to disappear in the same mysterious way. The stretch between Mzamba and Port St Johns, is spectacular, untouched, and has an unbelievable energy. Most of our challenges were met here, especially those I set for myself. It was here that I realized that nothing is impossible. The transition in coming back to civilization was something we hadn’t anticipated. The simplicity, and ruggedness of the Transkei, weighed up against a busy East London, where electricity was something that happened with the flick of a switch, and water was available on tap. It took us a whole week to adjust to this change, and I would say this was because, once you go without something, you learn to appreciate the things you take for granted, and very few people understood this.
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