12 May to 26 May 2019

I got back from AfrikaBurn feeling exhausted.  I had no regrets leaving before the finale weekend. After bringing all my gear inside, I cleaned it as best I could. Everything was covered in sand, including me.

Cape Town had experienced a severe drought and was only recently recovering. Water use was still strictly limited.  I guiltily showered under a cascade of delicious hot water, a minute, or two, longer than I should have. I watched as the desert  I’d taken back with me disappeared down the drain. That night as I got into my clean comfortable bed, I couldn’t recall the last time a bed felt that good.

I still had a few weeks in South Africa. I took another few days to relax and then began thinking of touring the Garden Route.

The Garden Route is one of South Africa’s major tourist attractions. It encompasses about 300 kms (190 miles) of beautiful coastline, a range of mountains, and many small towns.

The best way to explore the Garden Route is with ones own vehicle. But driving on the left and shifting gears with my left hand was a daunting prospect. I wasn’t sure I was up for the challenge. However, options were few. The few travelers I met with the same idea were planning the same route in less than a week, I wanted twice that, and a “hop-on, hop-off” tourist bus did not offer much freedom.

Leading up to my departure I sat directly behind the Uber drivers and mentally practiced the manuevers I would be doing on my own. It helped. And like most things, the anticipation was worse than the reality. It didn’t take me long to adjust to driving on the opposite side of the road, although I kept a mantra of “Keep Left” at the ready.

Leaving Cape Town I passed the multitude of million dollar homes perched on the hills of neighborhoods like Clifton and Camps Bay. And was soon encountering Mitchell Plains, a sprawling township with shacks of corrugated tin with incongruously pretty pastel accents, sitting atop windswept dunes, visible from the road. Once again, the extreme disparity of wealth, along racial lines, was unsettling.

I continued along  the coast and a haze lifted.  The sea emerged from a palette of grays to those of brilliant blues. The rocky shoreline was dazzling.

Unsure of how my first day behind the wheel would be, I’d booked a place in Pringle Bay, only a two hour’s drive from Cape Town.
The town was barely that with a few shops and restaurants. I managed to grab lunch before a recommended spot was closing for the day.

The host of my AirBnb, Kirsten, had settled here from Germany decades ago and as of late was making her living selling her paintings. The fact that she’d only begun to paint a few years prior was particularly remarkable. Her work was decorative and easy on the eyes. I understood her success.

I looked forward to walking along the beach, but coming from Cape Town, I was wary.  But the only warning I received was to insure all windows and doors of the apartment were carefully locked before leaving home. Thieves of the human kind were not the concern. Baboons roamed the area in large numbers and although they were not known to attack anyone, they would rampage a house in search of food if given the slightest opportunity. And although extremely thorough they were anything but cautious and tidy. Kristen showed me a baboon’s hand print left from one such visit still on her wall as she described the disastrous state her apartment was in.

As a rule, I didn’t stay many places more than one night. Fortunately, there wasn’t much distance to cover  between towns so I usually had ample time to explore.

The terrain changed markedly.  Open flat expanses abutted beaches with adjoined mountains and forests. Each day offered a rush of beauty.

I largely relied on Google Maps for directions and often found myself on back, gravel roads that seemed to go on forever. Much of the land was hilly and I felt like I was driving on top of a roller coaster.  I would pass, on occasion, workers tending to huge tracts of lands. Otherwise there would be no one around for miles.

One road I took stopped dead before a wide river.  A ferry powered by the strength of three men was there to take me across.

I headed to Cape Agulhas considered to be the southernmost tip of the African mainland. I was rewarded with a climb up the lighthouse, an opportunity to see where the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet, and see the remains of the Meisho Maru shipwreck. The coast is treacherous and maps indicate the hundreds of ship wrecks that occurred here through the centuries.

I headed further east to the De Hoop Nature Reserve for a night and booked an early morning, 7 a.m. guided tour with a naturalist.  I was the only participant.  Despite the early wake up, it was a great way to begin a day.

Still Bay offered a glimpse of the independent fishermen carrying on the tradition of their forebears.

Two nights spent in a luxurious treetop with only the sound of birds was divine, but I missed the sea.

The Tsitsikamma National Park offered cabins on the sea. I got an unexpected thrill to see a whale jump from the waters. The area offered beautiful trails and some tourist attractions.

Monkey Land and Bird of Eden were perfect destinations for a rainy day.

Reportedly the Bloukrans Bridge is the third highest bungee jump in the world at 216 meters. I was satisfied to watch others take the dive and impressed with their courage.

I decided to return to Cape Town by the inland route, along Route 62. It offered a very different, but no less stunning landscape through lush and arid mountains.

The Garden Route is renowned for its vineyards. I only visited one winery where I was given two complimentary glasses of wine, in addition to the one I ordered, at lunch. Everything I tasted was delicious, but it took me a few hours to sober up. Luckily I had walked there from my B and B.

Ronnies Sex Shop is a popular tourist stop along Route 62. It began as a joke with friends of the owner when they added “Sex” to the original sign and created a popular tourist destination. It was a welcoming place to stretch my legs.

As I traveled the Garden Route, I understood its appeal. Beauty is found at every turn.

The two weeks passed quickly. I was back in Cape Town and my flight to Namibia was in two days.

To be continued…