Pssst! - Sept 22, 2008

For once in my life I was in no particular hurry as I headed out of Coffee Bay, enjoying the road less travelled as I meandered parallel to the coast in the direction of Hluleka Nature Reserve.

Imagine my surprise when I became aware of a rhythmic ‘pssst, pssst, pssst’ through the open driver’s window. Oh No, I thought. Surely not a puncture!

Stopping I confirmed my worst fears and established that I had time to drive to flat ground, choosing a village’s sports field where I could change the tyre safely at my leisure.

By the time I’d unpacked the back of the car to get to the Fortuner’s toolkit, I’d become the main event with a crowd of youngsters gathering and animatedly discussing my progress.

This would be a tyre change, and possibly a puncture repair, like they’d never seen and I congratulated myself on the foresight to pack my ARB compressor pump in its handy carrying box, along with my robust exhaust-powered airjack. Both quality items, purchased from 4x4 MegaWorld some years back, had proved invaluable in the past.

Soon a determined young man strode up confidently, assessed the scene and announced that he’d take over. “Where’s the jack,” he demanded? I pointed at the airjack and he pretended that he knew what it was, although was clearly puzzled.

His command of English rivalled my grasp of Xhosa and we had a comedy of errors as he removed the airjack connection from the exhaust each time the car was high enough to work on. Eventually we got it right, and I used two plugs to seal a gaping gash in the tread, but decided to use the spare tyre instead anyway.

Splashdown ... Braam and David hitch a ride with a Toyota Fortuner support vehicle at the end of a day of wading, swimming and paddling across numerous river mouths, some inhabited by huge sharks.

Photograph: Geoff Dalglish

All was well I thought, but the adventure was just beginning.

My helper confided that while we’d been changing the wheel one of my bags had apparently been stolen. He hadn’t seen it happen, but was clearly outraged. I couldn’t see anything missing, but asked what he suggested. “We must talk to my father,” he insisted.

We drove to a nearby hut and there was much discussion and hand-waving as the local village headman was apprised of the situation. “Wait by that horse,” I was instructed, watching with interest as the headman strode towards some nearby huts, my helper shaking his head and repeating: “He’s a thief, a thief.” He seemed quite distraught.

A few minutes later the headman returned and presented me with my toiletry bag, all its contents intact. The person who had liberated it had done a runner, but I suspected there would be harsh justice on his return.

With my helper acting as an interpreter I explained what the Miles for Smiles mission was all about, adding that crime perpetrated on tourists would drive them away, further compounding problems of local impoverishment.

All of this was explained to the nearby villagers in the local tongue, the headman exercising his traditional authority in an easy, relaxed style.

I gave them both warm handshakes, my sincere thanks and a small financial reward each, my helper pleading for me to find him a job, any job. His name is Bathanda and he’s a personable young man of integrity who can be reached on (073) 032 7195. Maybe somebody has something appropriate to offer him?

Hluleka Nature Reserve

Hluleka could be another name for heaven and is at the end of a long, dusty road devoid of any useful signposting. Fortunately it featured on my Garmin Quest’s screen, my lady ‘Samantha’ providing with a number of helpful voice prompts.

I’d hoped to book us there for the night, but the reserve was closed until November when superb wooden chalets on stilts will provide awesome sea views over a beautiful and protected bay. Like so many other places we found on the Wild Coast, it is a piece of heaven and a place I intend to return to when I have time on my side.

While we waited for David and Braam to appear over the nearest hill, we swam and lazed and counted our blessings to live in a country of such unsurpassed beauty.

Heaven on Earth

There have been so many gems along the way that have astonished and delighted us. Highlights of the past week have included visiting Hole in the Wall and getting the guided tour of Port St Johns from John Costello, owner of the Outspan Inn and co-author of a magnificent coffee-table book, Mkambati and the Wild Coast.

He insisted on taking us to the local airstrip for sundowners, treating us to an eagle’s view of the
and estuary far below our perch on towering sandstone cliffs. It is a sight never to be forgotten.

Port St Johns has attracted travellers and adventurers through the centuries with a rugged coastline rich in diversity and wilderness, a series of hiking tracks allowing today’s visitors to follow the trails of early shipwreck survivors who must have marvelled at the pristine forests, rivers and waterfalls.

The area retains much of the appeal I remember from my first visit more than 30 years ago, although the town centre is scruffy and littered, and there seems little appreciation for the incalculable value of the surrounding indigenous forests and precious biodiversity.

A popular pastime seems to be connecting with the environment via the local brand of marijuana, which is smoked openly. Whatever pushes your buttons, I guess, although I get high enough simply from the awesome beauty of this coast. It is remarkable!

Visit www.portstjohns.org.za and email tourismpsj@wildcoast.co.za

Walking on the wild side

A personal highlight this week was probably my 13km, three-and-a-half hour hike with Braam and David from Umngazi River Bungalows to Port St Johns, which gave me a taste of what they’re experiencing along the Wild Coast.

Normally I’d have allocated up to five hours for this rugged hike which includes brief forays on the beach, trekking through indigenous forest and along the hilltops with some steep ascents and descents. It is breathtaking in its beauty, although the pace was punishing for someone who sat too long in a 4x4 these past few weeks. Our two Miles for Smiles heroes tackled the climbs at much the same speed as the flat sections so I had really push myself, my lungs gasping for more oxygen while the muscles in my legs burned with the exertion.

Hey, who’s complaining? It was awesome.