The one with the less grand canyon </strong>

12 February 2020 (day 71)

We’re up, fed, and off in the truck this morning by 5am, all with the aim of getting to and climbing Dune 45, a 170m high star dune in the Sossusvlei area of the park, in time to watch the sunrise. It’s snooze central on the drive to the dune and when we arrive we find we’re not the only people there but we are one of the first groups to arrive.

Sara obviously can’t climb a sand dune with her leg, but she’d said early on after her injury that it’s okay if I still do a few things she can’t. Today is the single day I’d been most excited about for Namibia, and although really torn because I’d wanted us to do it together, I decide to go up the dune.

Nash has advised us not to wear any shoes, to take a jumper because it’ll be cold at the top, and to step where others have already stepped. I’m not sure if this last piece of advice is to minimise the chances of stepping on a snake, scorpion or spider nesting in the sand, or if it’s because existing footprints will be more stable than stepping into fresh sand, but in any event I follow the advice as best I can, peering intently at the sand in case of anything that might bite or sting me.

The climb up the dune is absolutely exhausting. Ten weeks of being largely sedentary on the truck has taken a toll, and my heart and lungs are bursting, my legs burning, as my pace slows on the ascent. Luckily for me (and others too, I suspect), there’s a woman just ahead on the sandy ridge we’re climbing who’s either even less fit than I am or she suffers from a fear of heights. Whichever it is, she stops every few steps for maybe 10 seconds, starting up again with the encouragement of her friends who tell her she can do this. The frequent short rests are an immense relief for my ever more tired legs and lungs.

From the ground, the ridge seemed to go up in a fairly straight line to the top; on climbing, it becomes clear that the “top” we saw in the gloom from the bottom is really only the midway point, as the ridge winds around and off higher into the distance. I toy with the idea of stopping but realise I won’t be satisfied with half and keep plugging onwards.

The sun meanwhile is making its way towards the horizon, and the darkness is being replaced by dawn. Dark shadows all around reveal themselves to be more dunes around and off into the distance. I glance up every so often to see the views but mostly keep my eyes on the footprints in the sand ahead of me, occasionally slipping on the loose sand and half crouching to right myself.

View across the red dunes of Sossusvlei, Namibia

Huge red dunes as far as the eye can see, Sossusvlei Namibia

Finally I reach the top and find others sitting atop the ridge facing the direction of the sunrise. I sit down beside Jan just in time to see the sun making its way over the horizon, and we sit a while watching it rising higher in the sky and feeling it warming the sand in front of us. While it’s as beautiful as I’d imagined, I really just wish Sara was here with me.

Hanging out on Dune 45 as the sun begins to rise, Sossusvlei, Namibia

Epic sunrise from the top of Dune 45, Sossusvlei, Namibia

The view to my right of Jan, Mike, the top of Luke’s head, and dune after dune of rich red sand, Sossusvlei, Namibia

The white speck is Sam heading off to get some Instagram selfies from a different dune. Some people have too much energy!

What a place to see the sun rise! Sossusvlei, Namibia

After a while, people start making their way back down again and I decide to do the same. There are two options available: retrace my steps back down the ridge or run down the face of the dune in front of me. I choose the latter and, as carefully as I can, half run half walk down the sand, conscious that I’m not free-footing onto fresh sand and hoping Nash’s advice didn’t relate to spiders and snakes!

Dune 45 post sunrise , Sossusvlei, Namibia

After breakfast back at the truck, we head off further into the Sossusvlei, driving past a landscape filled with incredible red dunes on either side of the road. We pull up at the parking area for 4x4 transfer on to the deadvlei, and learn that frustratingly this also isn’t something Sara’s able to do because it’s a kilometre’s hike over hilly sand to get to the vlei after being dropped by the 4x4s, and another kilometre back to the vehicles before the return journey.

As before, I’m in two minds about going without Sara but eventually decide to go and jump into the 4x4. The drive from the parking area to the drop off point is across a sand road with more huge dunes all around and it’s really quite something.

The landscape we’ve all been waiting for (and mistakenly assumed that all of Namibia looked like)

We’re pointed in the direction of the deadvlei and agree a time to be back at the cars. It’s not possible to see the vlei from the start point but I head off, somewhat following others going in the same direction or returning having already been. The walk is over loose sand, generally upwards, and after the dune earlier it’s pretty knackering.

After around 15 minutes of walking, I climb the last mound of sand to see the deadvlei ahead of me.

What’s that coming over the hill? It’s a deadvlei; it’s a deadvlei!

The deadvlei in Sossusvlei, a beautiful if eerie place to visit, Namibia

Many years ago, there used to be a river flowing here to a small lake in the desert, and this allowed trees and bushes to grow. At some point around a thousand years ago, a sand dune moved blocking the river’s route, and a few dry years caused the dune to grow large enough to divert the river into Sossusvlei instead.

Without water, the trees and bushes died, but because of the extreme dryness of the desert, the tree corpses remain, sticking out of what is nowadays a clay pan. It’s an eerie sight, these dead trees in the middle of the desert surrounded by huge red dunes. It’s vaguely reminiscent of the dead trees of Lake Nakuru despite the otherwise completely different surroundings.

Trying to give myself selfie antlers and not being overly successful

I spend some time wandering around admiring the trees and clay pan. It’s awe-inspiring, really beautiful, but again I just wish Sara was here with me to enjoy it. I spot Melissa and Jan nearby and head over to see them for a bit before it’s time to walk back to the vehicles for the return transfer to the truck.

Back on board, we head back in the direction of last night’s campsite where we stop for lunch and ice creams and then onwards to tonight’s campsite in Bethanie. Along the way, we see plenty of enormous social weaver nests, which are genuinely impressive both by reference to the size of the trees they’re built in and the small stature of the birds themselves.

Social weaver nest (we saw, but didn’t get the chance to photograph, MUCH larger ones)

I’m on cooking duties tonight and it’s made all the more difficult by it being very blustery, meaning we have to cover everything in tin foil to minimise the risk of sand getting into the food. There’s another really incredible Namibian sunset as we’re cooking, and even although the sunset itself is largely obscured by buildings, the vivid colours of the post-sunset rivals many of the others we’ve seen this trip.

The owner here has arranged for a special price for us to be able to upgrade and have Sara in a room after last night’s camping, and the room is very nice but hotter than the surface of the sun (probably). Despite having the door open for a couple of hours while we eat and get things sorted, it remains much hotter inside the room than out, and the fan does little to nothing to help us sleep when we eventually go to bed. It’s therefore not a night where either of us rest well.

Door to the surface of the sun (Jen is smiling because she doesn’t know this yet)

13 February 2020 (day 72)

Up this morning and groggy from poor sleep, we at least have a gentle morning of being driven by the ever capable Steve to Fish River Canyon. The canyon is acknowledged by most as the second largest in the world after the Grand Canyon in Arizona (seriously Namibia, it’s starting to feel like you’re trying a bit too hard to be AZ!), although apparently there’s also some (likely riveting) debate as to whether it’s actually technically a gorge.

It’s a few hours drive from Bethanie and when we arrive the canyon is impressive; reminiscent of the Grand Canyon but smaller (obviously) and a lot less colourful. Steve drives the truck to a viewpoint where everyone except me and Sara get off the truck to do an hour’s hike along the canyon to another viewpoint. With everyone now on foot, Steve turns us around and drives back to the ending viewpoint where we can admire the canyon, have lunch, and wait for the others to get here.

View from the viewpoint. Fun fact: the “shade” is not actually helpful in sheltering one from the ungodly heat of the sun

Fish River Canyon, Namibia. Our assessment: meh, I’ve seen bigger

Lots of these little guys kept us company while waiting for the others to arrive

Our viewpoint gives us a really good vantage point over the canyon, and we can see the many twists and turns where Fish River has carved through the rock over the years.

Steve’s come to the viewpoint from the truck with us to hang out in the shade rather than sitting in a hot metal box, and after a while Nash also arrives, bringing with him his mbira, a musical instrument with a relatively small number of metal keys. We’ve seen the instrument being played in various places, including at the ruins of Great Zimbabwe where it was housed inside a gourd. Nash mentioned to me a few weeks back in Zanzibar that he had one and was learning to play and I’ve been keen to see and try it ever since.

Nash shows me a simple melody, the first he learned to play when he got his mbira, and after a few attempts I have it down. It’s just the first few bars but it’s enough to make me want an mbira of my own. This doesn’t surprise Sara in the slightest - she knows me well.

Slowly the others arrive at the viewpoint and Melissa tells us we haven’t missed anything except walking in the insufferable heat for a view almost exactly like the one we have now. It’s good to hear, but we nonetheless decide to do the hike, or a longer version on another trip to Namibia (we’ll obviously be coming back given we have unfinished business re the things we haven’t been able to do here because of the injury).

With everyone returned, the truck heads off again for tonight’s campsite, Ai Ais. As we near it, the world around us changes to huge rocky mounds that look like something from a science fiction film. The rock, mostly shades of grey, is interspersed with bright pinks occasionally, presumably from mineral deposits, and Sara and I both stare out of the truck in awe at this landscape unlike anything either of us has seen before. Pictures do not do the strangeness of the landscape justice at all.

Silverback heading into the awesome land of rock

Unfortunately, pictures can’t truly capture the awesomeness…but, on a side note, we’re pretty sure a Rock Biter lives here

Pyornkrachzark the Rock Biter from The Neverending Story — Pyornkrachzark the Rock Biter from *The Neverending Story*

We arrive and set up the tents in, again, insufferable heat, and again I do the minimum to get the tents up while leaving the inside for later once it’s cooled down. Ai Ais has hot springs nearby which you can go down to see but not bathe in, and a swimming pool which, given the air temperature, must be bath water hot. Sara and I instead go up to the bar area for a bit of proper shade and a cider while catching up a bit on the blog before dinner.

Feels like it should read ‘place of burning water and sun’. Also, we’re pretty sure the reason pets aren’t allowed here is because the resident baboons will eat them. Lovely. — Feels like it should read ‘place of burning water **and sun**’. Also, we’re pretty sure the reason pets aren’t allowed here is because the resident baboons will eat them. Lovely.

Blogging is serious business - look at that concentration!

Sitting around after dinner, we have one of my favourite evenings of the entire trip, with most of the group sitting around talking and having a good time together. There’s been a fair bit more angst and tension within the group than I’d ever expected there would be coming into this (particularly based on my first truck which was an absolute breeze), and it’s really lovely at last to have an easy night together laughing, joking and reminiscing. I’m hopeful this is how everything will be for the last few days we have together before Cape Town.

14 February 2020 (day 73)

We leave Ai Ais and travel back out through the sci-fi landscape before returning to more typical desert on our way to Orange River. As we drive, we turn a corner and are confronted with a vineyard at the side of the road, an oasis of unexpected green in the otherwise arid landscape. This more than anything for me signals that our time in Namibia is almost at an end, with tonight our last night, and from here it’s only a few days travelling through South Africa before we get to Cape Town.

Reality check: a small section of the shantytown next to the idyllic vineyard which houses the workers

We arrive at tonight’s campsite, Felix Unite, before 12, and Nash and I head off to see whether there are any upgrades available. Camping on two consecutive nights is more challenging than camping just one night at a time, both because of Sara’s general comfort but also because of more difficult logistics around showering in communal showers etc. When we get to the reception, however, the receptionist tells us that there’s exactly one upgrade left, a family chalet, and because it’s Valentine’s Day it’s far outside of our price range. I ask if it’s at all possible for them to help us with a better price because of our circumstances, and the receptionist tells me she’ll speak to the operations manager to see if there’s anything they can do. I’m not optimistic though given v-day and there being only one room left, so start making contingency plans for us pitching up right beside the ablutions block, which would mean we’re away from the group but Sara wouldn’t repeatedly have to negotiate steps and a hill to get there.

Over an hour later, we get some good news: the ops manager has agreed to a more achievable price for us and will also arrange for transfers for Sara to the chalet and back again in the morning given she can’t walk far enough to get there in her current condition. Once again we’re a little overwhelmed by people’s kindness and generosity in helping Sara.

Our chalet is really lovely, with a double room, en suite, and twin room, all air conditioned. We also have outside space with a view over the Orange River and to South Africa on the other side.

The very un-orange Orange River, with Namibia the land on the left and South Africa the right of the river.

We get Sara set up on the bed with her leg elevated and I go down to the restaurant to see about some lunch for us. I order us each a cheeseburger and the staff kindly offer to bring the food to our chalet when it’s ready to prevent me hanging around in the heat. Back with Sara, we wait patiently and after a while two women arrive carrying our plates, cutlery, and condiments. Ravenous, I tear the cling film off the plate and take a big bite of my cheeseburger only to find it’s actually a chicken burger. Sara too has a chicken burger, and I’m not quite sure how this has happened given I’m sure they repeated my order back at me but to heck with it, a chicken burger is fine. Down the hatch it goes!

We have a gentle afternoon and later eat dinner together with some wine outside at our cabin overlooking the river. The sunset is on the other side of the building, so our view is of a slowly darkening river and sky, still beautiful but without the drama we’ve come to expect from the evening sky.

Dining al fresco at sunset - there are worse ways to celebrate Valentine’s Day!

15 February 2020 (day 74)

We hit the road early this morning for the very short drive to the South African border. We’ve allowed a lot of time for the border crossing, which in Nash’s experience can take hours and involve x-raying all passengers’ bags to check for contraband. We’re in luck though, and after we’ve all been stamped through immigration we’re waved on without any bag searches or sniffer dogs; the whole crossing takes only around 40 minutes instead of the multiple hours expected.

Driving onwards, the landscape continues to be desert and mountains, which is far from what I expected of South Africa. A couple of hours later, we stop in Springbok, the largest town in Namaqualand in the Northern Cape, for groceries, money exchange and SIM cards. I head off to the bank, finding some others already there when I arrive, but after much kerfuffity with different banks, we’re unhappy with the rate of commission being charged and leave without any rand in hand.

Hello South Africa, our final country on this continent

Jan and I also want local SIM cards, and eventually get one each plus credit after more kerfuffity across two shops. On the way back to the truck, I slightly tentatively pick up supermarket sushi for me and Sara for lunch.

Although we’re only in Springbok for about an hour and a half, it’s enough to give a sense of South Africa being less friendly than all of the other countries we’ve been to so far. There are a lot fewer smiles to greet us, both in shops and more generally as we pass, and also less interest in where we’re from and where we’re going to. I probably wouldn’t have expected anything different if we’d have come straight here from London, but the past 10.5 weeks must have had an effect.

Back on the road, we drive onwards with only a stop for lunch (ours far surpasses our expectations of supermarket sushi!) and arrive mid afternoon at Highlanders Campsite and Lodge in Klawer. It’s insufferably hot, in the mid 40s Celsius, and the camping ground is a bit of a walk from the ladies’ facilities, so we ask about upgrading and decide to take a twin room with extremely welcome air conditioning. The general manager, who can’t have been more than late teens or early 20s at an absolute push, tells us we’re not allowed to drink anything in our room, even if we purchase it from their bar, and we absolutely must not allow anyone else to use our shower. We’re half entertained, half insulted at being treated like untrustworthy children, but assure him no one will be using our shower and take the key.

Highlanders Campsite and Lodge, South Africa

The precious room which must remain pristine

Wine bottle chandelier yet, ironically, NO DRINKS ALLOWED in the room

Standing guard to make sure no one uses our shower

Highlanders, as well as being accommodation, is a vineyard and is offering a wine tasting for our group in their bar. We head up there with Melissa, Jan, Olly, and Rich and are greeted by six bottles of red, white, rose, and sparkling wines set out for us to taste.

It’s the general manager, Johann, who’s taking us through the tasting, and he gives a bit of an overview of the two ways to taste wine: first is the formal “sight, smell, taste” approach; second is apparently the much less formal South African “just drink it” method.

We’re allowed to self pour, but given very firm instructions not to go above a certain level on our glasses, and then it’s on to the wine at last. We try Chenin blanc, pinotage, Shiraz, Trevino sweet rose, a pink sparkling wine with slightly sexist packaging (it’s for girls because girls like pink, or other such nonsense), and to finish a very tasty African Ruby made with rooibos and buchu. We’re pretty much all in agreement that the Shiraz, Chenin blanc, and African Ruby are the best on offer.

Rosé wine with a side of casual sexism 😖

We’ve had a lovely time and ask if we can eat our truck food at the bar so that all six of us can share some wine with dinner - the truck is too far and down way too many stairs for Sara to be able to go and come back up to our room later. Johann agrees that yes we can bring our food up to the bar and asks if he can eat with us as he usually eats alone and there are only two other guests here outside of our group. We agree that sounds like a good plan and five of us get up to go down to the truck to pick up our food, Sara selflessly agreeing to hold for the fort for us at the bar where there are no other people.

As we walk down to the truck we see Nash talking to someone unfamiliar to us. We start to plate up but Nash arrives to tell us that the owner has just approached him and forbidden us from eating our food at the bar on the basis they sell food and other guests might be put out by seeing us eating food we’ve brought ourselves. No one has seen these elusive other guests (and no one does for the entire night), and we’ve no idea how the owner managed to know about our plans and find Nash before any of us has even left the bar area, but fine, we won’t eat up there and won’t be buying their wine.

I bring plates of food for me and Sara up from the truck and collect Sara to take her back to eat in our room a very short distance from the bar. Around 10 minutes later, however, there’s a knock on our door. It’s Johann. He tells us that the owner has said we can’t eat in the room because we might spill something on the bedding or furniture (which would be quite an impressive feat given we’re sat in wipe clean director-style chairs away from anything that might stain) and that we have to move outside.

I’m again completely confused about how the owner can even have known we were there (is he sitting watching and listening to the CCTV or something?) but in any event we ask to speak to the owner about this because it’s disgustingly and uncomfortably hot outside, especially for Sara in her moon boot. He’s also making her move on a broken leg unnecessarily, so we’d greatly appreciate it if an exception could be made in the circumstances. We also point out our distance from the soft furnishings and the fact we’re not actually children so don’t need to be treated as such (we don’t use those exact words), but he insists we absolutely must move (but can take the chairs we’re currently in outside). He adds that the owner isn’t available to discuss this further.

Annoyed, I move the two chairs, the stool and pillows Sara’s leg is elevated on, both plates of food, our water, and then Sara outside, and we recommence eating our tea. It’s not long though before Johann is back. Despite the owner not being available, he’s managed to speak to him, and we are allowed back into the room to eat because of Sara’s circumstances but only on condition that we agree if we spill anything we have to pay for the damage. Yes, obviously that’s fine.

Since the owner is now miraculously contactable, we ask again can we speak to him, because we’re annoyed at how poorly and patronisingly all of this has been handled, particularly when the owner was made aware by Johann when we first arrived today that Sara had a broken leg. Again though, the owner is absolutely not available to speak to us, there’s no number or email we can have to contact him directly now or later, and in fact it’s entirely outside all realms of possibility that he’ll be available to speak to us under any circumstances at any time. Coward.

For the second time, I move the two chairs, the stool and pillows Sara’s leg is elevated on, both plates of now pretty cold food, our water, and then Sara, this time back into the air conditioned inside. Against all odds, we then manage to eat our food without accidentally throwing fistfuls of vegetables in sauce at the bedding or walls.

The main take away from all of this, readers, is that if you’re looking for somewhere to stay in or near Klawer and you’d love nothing more than being treated like an untrustworthy infant, Highlanders Campsite and Lodge is for you, my friend! If instead you quite like the fact you’ve grown up and are generally allowed to exercise your autonomy and discretion, I’d look elsewhere.

16 February 2020 (day 75)

Delighted to be leaving our least favourite accommodation of the whole trip, we’re back in the truck and heading for Stellenbosch, our penultimate stop on our trip through Africa.

Midmorning we stop at a service station, the first to look very similar to the ones back home. There’s a shop selling various dried meats, and on closer examination I see that there’s something called bees biltong. I definitely thought biltong was beef and am completely confused by what function bees would have played in the process, or if it’s somehow biltong made from the meat of bees, which seems like it’d be a very labour intensive process (in any event, I thought we were trying to save the bees?!). I decide to ask. The lady behind the counter stifles a giggle as she explains to me that, no, there are no bees involved directly or tangentially in the making of the biltong. It’s that the word “bees” means cow in Afrikaans.

No bees were harmed in the making of this biltong

Slightly disappointed with this run-of-the-mill explanation, I buy some anyway to supplement our lunch, and find back on the truck that Jan too has some. He’s sitting opposite me today and has started tucking into his straight away. I ask how it is, and he responds, “It’s like an angel peeing on my tongue”.

“I’m sorry, it’s what?” Sara and I burst out laughing at the unexpected idiom. Jan asks incredulously, “Isn’t that a saying in English? It’s what we say in Dutch when something tastes really good.”

“But why would an angel peeing on your tongue be something you’d want? Surely there are better tasting things than that!” Jan tries to explain that it’s because angels are such lovely creatures. Of course, sure, but I still don’t want one peeing on my tongue!

We get to Stellenbosch in time for lunch, and as we’re driving through the town on the way to the hostel Sara and I are disappointed to see our very first McDonald’s in Africa. We’d been hoping to get all the way to Cape Town without seeing any. Bad form, Stellenbosch.

For the first time, Sara and I aren’t going to stay with the group. The hostel only has mixed dorms, and with Sara’s leg and reduced mobility, it’ll be hard for her to have adequate privacy getting changed and showered. Instead I’ve found us an Airbnb nearby and we hop in a taxi to take us over. On arrival, the place is really lovely, with a double room, twin room, completely accessible shower, kitchen and living room, all spotlessly clean. It’s a pleasant surprise: we’ve never used Airbnb before because of horror stories about things going wrong so we were pretty hesitant about booking one.

Our first Airbnb - it’s like being in a treehouse

I end up coordinating arrangements for a group of us to go on a wine tour tomorrow. With a few options for different tours on the table, Olly, Melissa, Nahiko and Jan decide to join me and Sara at one with a company recommended by our Airbnb host called Wine Flies, which specialises in off-the-beaten-track vineyards and food pairings. Rich, Ryan and Taylor decide instead to go with a different company.

I call Wine Flies and book the six of us in. A couple of hours later, Rich changes his mind and wants to join us. I call Wine Flies and confirm he can be added, they send out revised payment and booking information, and I let everyone know. Then Ryan and Taylor change their minds and ask if they too can change plans and join us. So it’s back on the phone to Wine Flies (“Er, hi it’s me again, can I please change the booking one more time? This is the last time, I promise!”) and another round of emails. Luckily the lady on the other end of the phone seems to have a high tolerance for kerfuffity!

For dinner, we get a taxi to Bossa Cafe, a place our Airbnb host advised does pretty much the best burgers in Stellenbosch. We then proceed not to have any burgers but instead to have a meal of starters. The nachos, jalapeño poppers and wings arrive and it is much too much food (again). We don’t learn.

17 February 2020 (day 76)

It’s wine tasting day (woo!). Wine Flies collect me and Sara from our Airbnb around 8.30am and we meet Lord V, our driver and guide for the day. After collecting the others, we head for Villiers, the first wine cellar, and stop at some of the vines on the route in.

Lord V gives us some background on wine and the local wine industry. Apparently wine was discovered around 8,000 years ago by a woman (woo!) by accident (lesser woo!), and vines were first imported to South Africa by Europeans in the 17th Century. There are now 170 wine estates in Stellenbosch itself with 450 within 2 hours of Cape Town. It sounds like somewhere I’d be happy living.

Lord V giving’ us the lowdown on grape growin’

We’re about to have our first tasting of the day. This can also be known as the “Before” photo

Inside Villiers, Lord V is our taste master (a term I’ve most likely just made up) and he gives us an overview of how to taste wine. It’s more detailed than the one given at Highlanders, with not three stages but five. Lord V’s five S’s approach to tasting is:

Sight - looking for the colour, clarity etc to help determine the depth of flavour (the lighter the colour, the lighter the flavour).
Swill - around the glass to help it breathe and bring out the aromas. Lord V also suggests that while we could classily swirl the wine around the glass to help it breathe, we could equally put our palm over the top of the glass and just give it a good shake instead! I imagine this would go down well in restaurants, although what you’re then supposed to do with your now-wet-with-wine palm aside from lick it I’m not sure. Mmm wine palm.
Smell - because most taste is in the nose.
Sip - take a good mouthful, not a dainty shy one, and ignore the first sip as your palate will be adjusting.
Savour - a good wine will stay on the taste palate for a long time.

With that behind us, we crack into the wines around the various wine estates. Over the day, we hit Villiers Wines, Mitre’s Edge, Middelvlei, Usaana and Lovane Wine Estates (luckily we take photos of pretty much every bottle we try - we wouldn’t otherwise be able to remember where we went after tasting 25 wines over the course of the day!).

Of particular note is Mitre’s Edge where the tasting takes place in the wine maker Lola’s house (woo, female wine maker!), the wines we try are paired with cheeses, and the quality is really quite something. They are so good, in fact, that Melissa, Olly and we each buy a bottle of their Malbec despite it not being part of the tasting because it’s so highly regarded, purely on the basis of how incredible their other wines were. We also buy a bottle of the vineyard’s signature red, Sholto, which is our favourite of the wines we do get to sample. Wines for our upcoming week in Cape Town = sorted!

Rich trying to bring back the Top Gun look and a very proud owner of delicious wine

At Middelvlei, we stop for a lunch put on by the wine estate, but prior to that Lord V leads us into the the wine making operation to show us how grapes are turned into glorious red (and white, and pink) nectar. After seeing the huge tanks and grape squashing machines (for want of a better term), we’re taken into a cellar filled with barrels and shown the “wine thief”, which is a sort of pipette to enable you to withdraw and test the wine in a barrel. Lord V lets us loose on the barrel with the wine thief and I do my best to get into character…

We’ve drank wine straight from the bottle before but drinking straight from the barrel is definitely upping our game

After lunch on the patio accompanied by more wine (because of course), we head onwards spotting zebras, sable antelope, and wildebeest at a watering hole on the drive. The music in the van is absolutely top notch and I applaud Lord V’s taste in music, with some Beatles, Rolling Stones, Sugarman (if you haven’t seen the documentary Searching for Sugarman, go watch it now), and Toto amongst others providing the tunes taking us across the wine region. Yes Lord V. Big yes.

You know what goes well with lunch? Wine!

There’s another tasting in the wine maker’s house after lunch at one of the wine estates where we didn’t catch the name at the time but the bottles confirm was called Usana. In this one, each wine is named after an event in their great grandfather’s life as an homage to him. Most importantly however is the fact they make orange wine here, something we’ve never heard of and didn’t know existed! Apparently it’s quite popular in South Africa. Who knew! (Probably the South Africans, in fairness). The wines here are served with some biltong and dried kudu, not necessarily something I needed straight after lunch, but then we all know need and want aren’t necessarily always aligned. The bonus for this stop is we have two adorable doggies to fawn over.

Here comes the meat (in the bowls, we’re not objectifying Lord V)

The last place we visit, Lovane Boutique Wine Estate, has wine tastings paired with scoffalicious chocolates which pleases me greatly. I like chocolate. The wine is good too.

All in all it’s been a really fantastic day, with excellent wine, great company, outstanding musical selections, and informative information (the very best kind). Having not seen Nash all day, and knowing how much he enjoys Africa by Toto (i.e. not at all), we send him a series of videos of us singing as badly as we can when it comes on in the car so he knows we’ve missed him. We’re a good bunch of eggs (or should it be a good hatch of eggs? A good laying? Thoughts welcome).

The “After” photo: Melissa looks fine but she’s French so I guess that makes sense

18 February 2020 (day 77)

It’s finally here, our very last day on the truck after 11 weeks! I can’t believe how quickly it’s flown and with heavy hearts Sara and I make our way to the truck from our Airbnb for our final short trip from Stellenbosch to Cape Town.

We’re so lucky to have had these two men as our fearless leaders throughout our African adventure

The atmosphere on the truck is the best it’s been in a while, with music playing on the stereo and much laughter and joking along the way. It’s less than an hour until we arrive in Cape Town at our hostel, Ashanti Lodge, virtually at the foot of Table Mountain. Sara and I will be in Cape Town for six nights in total before flying out and our travels through Africa are done. I don’t feel at all ready to be finished.

Getting everything off the truck is a bit of a task. Sara and I have accumulated quite a lot of stuff over 11 weeks, although thankfully Stefan and Jamila left a duffel bag for us when they departed at Vic Falls so we have somewhere to put some of it at least. After carting everything into the hostel from the truck, I then find that our room is actually in another building entirely a good few minutes walk away. My heart sinks at the idea of carrying all this stuff, many many bags and boxes, all the way there, but then rises again when it turns out one of the staff members is going to drive us and all of our stuff there and help us unload into our room. Phew!

All the stuff that doesn’t fit in our 66 and 70 litre backpacks - note this is after everything has been consolidated into fewer bags!

With this done, I make my way back over to the main hostel just in time to get a phone call from a wheelchair hire company telling me they’ve just arrived outside our building, so straight back up the hill I go. I’m getting my exercise in today! The wheelchair is exactly what we need to make things achievable for Sara while we’re in Cape Town, and it’s in excellent condition, slightly surprisingly given it’s only costing us just over £30 for six full days.

Sara safely in chair, and our masses of stuff halfway to being organised, it’s time to take her to an appointment with an orthopaedic specialist, which has been arranged for Sara by our London physio’s Cape Town physio friend with whom Sara has an appointment later this week.

Google Maps shows that the Mediclinic is five minutes walk from our guesthouse so I decide to push her rather than get an Uber. This is an error. It’s five minutes walk for an able bodied person uphill; it’s more like 15 minutes hard pushing, with Sara having to get out of the chair and hobble across roads because there are no drop curbs at pedestrian crossings (!) before we finally get to the clinic. We find the specialist’s office and wait to be seen - thankfully they’re running a bit behind so our slight tardiness goes unnoticed.

The consultant assesses Sara’s leg and remaining symptoms and wants to do an MRI to rule out a syndesmotic injury. Apparently fractures like Sara’s can actually be a secondary injury caused by a more serious injury in the ankle, with the syndesmosis injury going unnoticed by medical professionals due to the much more obvious leg fracture. If the MRI does show a syndesmosis injury in Sara’s ankle, it will require surgery and put an end to our travels.

I take Sara to the imaging department and ask about her getting an MRI but, disaster, there are no appointments until midweek next week! My face falls as I say that we’re only here for a few days and will be leaving the continent on Monday. “Let me see what I can do,” the woman tells me and goes off to make some calls. A few minutes later, she puts down the phone, gives a thumbs up and with a big smile says, “How much do you like me now?” Lucky for us, they’re managing to squeeze Sara in straight away and she goes off with a nurse for the MRI while I sit and wait in the reception area.

Any MRI I’ve ever had (and anyone who knows me even remotely knows this is a fairly regular occurrence due to my propensity for injuring myself) has been maybe 20-30 minutes max. Sara however is gone for much much longer, and I assume they’re perhaps waiting for someone with an appointment to be a little late to slot Sara in. Eventually Sara returns; the MRI actually has taken all this time because her leg kept spasming, and this resulted in blurry images that needed to be retaken.

We go back to the consultant’s office but he’s now finished for the day so we won’t be able to get the results immediately, which is a bit disappointing and means we’ll have a trip-viability question mark hanging over us until someone calls. As we’re waiting in reception for a taxi to collect us though, the consultant sees us as he’s leaving and says he’ll try to call Sara tomorrow when he’s back at the clinic to let us know the outcome.

It’s now mid afternoon and we haven’t eaten since breakfast, so we get an Uber to Sushi Box on Kloof Street for a late lunch and then head into a shopping centre down the road to look for some thank you cards for Steve and Nash. Cape Town, or Kloof Street at least, has absolutely nothing remotely of the type we’re looking for. We search pharmacies, book stores, supermarkets, and a trendy store selling wicker baskets and beetroot noodles but no greeting cards. Without any other option, we decide to get creative and make do with the cards in Woolworths. A couple of slight modifications and they’ll be perfect…

This evening there’s a group dinner to celebrate trip completion, and we’re last to arrive at Da Vinci’s where everyone is seated and waiting for us. The restaurant sells frozen margaritas and it seems rude not to try them. We order a pitcher to help with menu perusal and decision making. After much debate, I’m swung by Nash’s praise of the ribs here and order those, while Sara goes for pizza, and I’m more than pleased with my decision when the ribs arrive covered in delicious barbecue sauce (*drool*).

Best chore group EVER (aka the real A-Team)

It’s a really lovely final dinner together, and a bit emotional saying goodbye to people, even though we’ll probably see at least some of them over the next few days before everyone starts flying out. It feels so surreal that we’re actually here, that 11 weeks of overlanding is over. The time has absolutely flown by and neither of us feels ready to leave the truck. Even with Sara’s injury, this trip has been spectacular, the trip of a lifetime, and so much more than I ever expected it to be. I can’t believe how much we’ve been able to do and see. With new places, people, and experiences every single day, we haven’t had time to reflect and process things (which makes me glad we’re doing this travel diary / blog to help remember everything). Without question though, if the truck were continuing onwards from here, we’d jump at the chance to stay on board and keep going.

Absolute Africa’s Absolute Safari Nairobi to Cape Town trip 4 December 2019 to 18 February 2020 - you’ve been everything.
🇰🇪 🇺🇬 🇷🇼 🇹🇿 🇲🇼 🇿🇲 🇿🇼 🇧🇼 🇳🇦 🇿🇦