Scared to be someone else

I've been putting away the thought of some blogging for a while now and I don't know why. Maybe it's a routine thing, maybe it's the fact that I'm sitting at a PC again. Whatever it is, it doesn't feel as good as writing a letter, something that's personal. Blogging is like being a self-important mediocre attention-grabbing media-whore. Whatever that is. GAH! I'm so mediocre! :P

2 months away from the norm though. 2 months away from routine and stress and the same old-thinking. 2 months has given me time to re-evaluate what's important, what's missing and maybe even what's wrong and needs to be righted.

Destination: Cape Town and Relaxation

I was deliberating over the drive down to Cape Town, until I finally packed enough equipment that would make Ashanti embarrased and bundled it all into the Wagoon. The trip down was much easier than I first thought, being off-peak and in two stages.

I got into Kimberley at midnight, and decided to check out the local pub. What strange enthusiasm I had for mingling with complete strangers quickly subsided when I saw I was the only snow-white amongst the seven-hundred dwarves. I played the disillusioned tourist as I turned for the door. A quick tour of the Casino and I felt my eyelids droop, 1AM was looming and watching old people robotically fill machines with coins was taxing.

Not-so-early the next morning I got up for some run-down scrambled eggs and toast. Then I fired up the Scoob and nailed the remaining 8+ hours of driving. It always feels like I'm driving home when I head into Cape Town. Mom, Patrick and Mike have a house they can call a home too, it's got awesome views of the mountains surrounding Franshoek and Stellenbosch.

A week in Cape Town turned into two, after a timing mix-up with my hosts in Middelburg, but I wasn't complaining. :)

I spent a few days agonising over the intended trip and route choice. I could slip along the coast (after avoiding getting stoned by the locals on the N2) and take a sharp left at George. Or, I could motor up the N1 till Colesburg and then take the semi-civilised N9 down to Middelburg. So I took the prize behind door number 3, the regional roads. Mike suggested I head to Worcester then take the road-less-travelled to Montagu, Barrydale, Oudtshoorn etc. A suggestion which proved priceless.

When I left Cape Town at midday, it was raining. (The rain didn't let up until I got to Graaff-Reniet.) Overcast and drizzling, perfect conditions for my silver steed. Colours saturated by the grey light. A phonecall which turned out to be a job offer, another good omen. Then I slipped out of the next valley and was humbled by view. I was out in the middle of nowhere, a nowhere more beautiful than I had first imagined. A nowhere where I was just myself and no-one else. I wept and drove through the tears. Men can do two things at the same time.

The Swartberge kept me in awe, on a twisting towards Montagu like the snake that had been here before. Montagu is very pretty, I'm sorry I didn't stop over and take it in. Winelands, orchards in the first sprout of the season and more rain. Dips and rises, corners and fast straights. Sometimes the clouds would be just high enough, high enough to see the towering peaks overshadowing us puny humans as we muddled on on our conquest of the valley. A wet Oudtshoorn came and went and soon the sun was setting. On one particular bend, the sun was setting over a vast empty dam. It looked lunar-ish and lifeless peeking into the empty bowels of the Beervlei dam. I kicked myself for not stopping and taking a photo or three, but my destination was calling. Soon it was pitch black outside and still pock-marks of rain splattered on the windshield. Here I was, in the heart of the dry Karoo, and it was raining.

Graaff-Reniet passed by after I emptied my own bowels at the first fuel-stop I could find. "100km to Middelburg." I say to myself while trying to sing along to Live. "70 now. Lootsberg Pass, corners, yummy. Wrrrrrrp, no tsssh. 30. 20. 15. Argh. 10. Lights! I've made it! Wow, that's a lot of lights, this place must be civilised!" Your first greeting by Middelburg is a massive RDP development, cheap housing for the new masses in town. I had visions of spending my nights in a hut, visions which both scared and excited me. The town centre was typically small with all the basic ammenities, but it was lacking one thing I wasn't keen on finding: Stress. I quickly found my hosts street and made my way down it's wide berth. Some poor people, some rich. Rich or not, it would be my home for a while. In the end, I found number 28 and it turned out just right. Fear departed.

There's something to be said about meeting someone you don't know for the first time, especially when you're to spend time together. When I figure it out, I'll tell you. Anyway, I met Bradley, his wife Lee-Anne and a local friend: Darlene. Happy crowd. Awkwardness subsided after I managed to clean out the car, it must have looked like I was moving in!

That night I fell asleep on the small bed, the exhausting trip and pent-up expectation had taken it's toll.

Stuck in the Middelburg of nowhere

Middelburg, for the geography enthusiasts, is a lonely Great-Karoo town stuck halfway between Colesburg and Graaff-Reniet in the Eastern Cape, with Cradock (The hometown of Cow_Art) a stone's throw away too. Contrary to expectations, the town is nestled in a hilly area of the Karoo in what is prime stock-farming land. The town is also in the heart of Blue Crane country, one of the reasons I was here. (I'll let you figure out the other reasons.) The town features as many liquor stores as churches (and there quite a few liquor stores) plus all your basics including a library, Spar and various other retail outlets.

The average day for the first week was riding shotgun whilst Bradley and I investigated farmer sightings of the elegant birds. We saw 38 Cranes in the first 3 days. We'd also spend time pouring over maps of the area matching GPS coordinates of sightings to farm names and stand numbers. Which turned out to be too easy, I love map-work! Bradley, in my opinion, is more a diplomat for conservation than a ranger. His work is wide-ranged and far-reaching. This was most evident when we took a day-trip out past Noupoort to visit one of the farm schools. Here, Bradley gave a brief presentation on Crane Conservation to the wide-eyed pupils, followed by a puppet show, something some of the poor kids had never seen before. What is a child without imagination?

After-hours, I was on permanent dishes and tea-making duty, I felt I had to pull my weight where I could. Darlene visited often, which was good, I think things would have been a bit too weird if it was just the three of us, plus Darlene was bubbly and fun :) I also took up reading with a renewed vigour. I finished a novel and a number of short stories by Roald Dahl and Peter F. Hamilton. I was reintroduced to local TV, mesmerised by the Heartlines series and watching 50/50 stirred many memories. On some of the off days, I'd get on my bike and explore Middelburg.

Mountain Biking is a great way to get around. I saw plenty of Karoo Robins west of town, and even interrupted a Jackal Buzzard from it's fresh pigeon kill. The second time I went out on the bike, I cycled through the local township, gettting some amazed stares and shouts of excitement from the kids wandering in the streets. It must have been really weird to see this white-legged-freak go through the ghetto on a race-worthy mountain bike. I smiled and waved where I could, trying to shrug off my predisposed fears. I dreamt of sharing a beer or three with some of the locals too. My biggest concern was using the right greeting. isiZulu and Sesotho wouldn't cut it, I didn't know any Xhosa and saying something in Afrikaans would probably get me stoned, so I resorted to "Hello". My second trip through the same township, I stopped off at the soccer pitch to watch a local game for a bit. The score was 0-0, which became 1-0 when the team facing me conceded a goal. Probably distracted. :D My bike had endless punctures when I took the rough routes over Dubbeltjie country, so I stuck to the car-trails where I could. I felt alive!

At times I felt like I was in the way, especially from Lee-Anne's perspective. I got the idea that she didn't really have any influence in the decision to take on a volunteer for conservation work, and was therefore put out by the whole thing. Husband and Wife weren't exactly in love anyway. It just got uncomfortable.

Enough for now. Expect more later.