We also had many interesting discussions, and they were somewhat surprised of my grasp on the social and political situation in Sth Africa, given I'd only been there about 6 weeks. I guess it is partly the way I travel, and partly my nature, to not just see a place but to try and experience and understand it as well.
On the topic of experiences, my next destination, after a scenic coastal and forest drive, was the Klein Karoo and the town of Oodtshorn (Oatswarren). An area famous for Ostrich farms. Synthetic fibres has reduced the demand for feathers, but there are still a number of farms, and they have a tourism industry including the ability to go ostrich riding.
Even if I was allowed to, I wouldn't have inflicted myself on an ostrich, though I possibly could have helped by running too. However at nearly 20kg over the weight limit, even being chopped off at the knees, which many have threatened me with over the years, wouldn't have been sufficient.
It was not however why I was there, I had driven into the desert to squeeze myself through an underground letterbox in the Cango Caves.
The caves extend about 5km or more, but only the first 1.4km is open to the public. The first half of this is large and open, with a couple of huge halls, one of which has been used for underground opera. Access beyond this first part is done in small groups with a guide as there are a number of difficult sections. There is the tunnel of love, named because it hugs you from both sides, lumbago walk, requiring you to bend double, the previously mentioned post box, and the devils chimney.
The instructions for climbing the chimney, "right foot up there, push up, put your left foot over here ...", were completely useless to me. My legs were too long to get my feet up to the relevant places, so I just had to get a good hand grip and pull myself up until I reached the right places and could use the foot places for a rest. Just before I started I could tell the guide was just about to enquire if I was OK, when both feet lifted off the ground at once, to the chuckles of those still below. Good for them to laugh I thought, they don't have to arm haul themselves up a rock chimney in a pipe narrower than the width of their shoulders. Sarah, the Canadian girl who followed me could practically jog up in the space she had.
The rest of the day I spent driving up the Swartzberg Pass and through mountains, and back south over the mountains again via another path.
Can you imagine the pressure required to fold rocks like this?
I finished the day in the Sth African rock climbing mecca of Montagu. I wasn't climbing, I had no gear or climbing buddies, but the scenery was pretty cool.
I then turned south and went as far as I could without requiring a vehicle of a more marine nature, with a visit to Cape Agulhas, the southern most point of Africa.
The Cape of Good Hope gets more attention, and for the sake of a name is labelled the most south westerly point of Africa, but basically it is within day trip distance from Cape Town, and therefore easier to get to. A couple more days driving along the rugged coastline and I too had arrived in Cape Town.
I had expected to stay for about a week, with the intention of finding someone to travel through Namibia with me, both for the company and to share the fuel costs.
It turned out though that once I finally found a backpackers to check into, the first person I got talking to had plans to go to buy a bus ticket that afternoon for Windhoek and then figure out how to get around Namibia once in the capital. So I said "Well, before you do that, here is my plan" and after listing the places I wanted to visit, I had a travel buddy. I caught up with my friend Laura I'd met in Durban, and after only a day and a half I was leaving Cape Town again, and heading for Namibia.
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