16/9/19
As expected, despite the beautiful bed, nice warm blankets and oh so refreshing sleep, Olivia and I were wide awake well before 7:00. As were everyone else as it turns out, so we all met up for breakfast and sat down to chill out. Unfortunately we spent this time looking out the widow directly at Table Mountain which we had planned to visit this morning, and which was covered in clouds.
For a solid hour or so, we contemplated whether to go or not as our plans up the top would in fact require a little more visibility. In the end we decided to take our chances as we knew it would eventually clear up, and we headed out to the cable cars. There we met Brenton and Kerrianne, and headed up the mountain.
I’ve jumped off a bridge and fallen out of a plane, but cable cars – along with Ferris wheels – are awful for me. We were stuffed into a very large cabin with mother 25 or so people and then we went up in the air on our cables. Not too long into the ride up we hit the layer of cloud and suddenly couldn’t see anything anymore.
Once we reached the top, it was basically nothing but clouds anywhere. We found the representative for our activity and agreed with him to wait it out an hour or so and see if the clouds would clear up. Instead, we grabbed a coffee and sneaky piece of cake, and eventually set out to venture along the top of the mountain.
We were walking well into the clouds, with visibility topping at about 15 metres ahead of us. The views over the edge promised to be beautiful, but right at this stage it was nothing but stunning clouds. We decided to do the walk around the top, although we weren’t altogether sure of which way to go since we couldn’t actually see where the paths went.
The strangest feeling was running our hand through our hair and finding it completely damp. Clouds are made of water after all right… Eventually we came to another would-be gorgeous viewpoint and just sat down to reminisce on our trip once more, in the comfort of the covered sky.
Then suddenly out of nowhere, we spotted a patch of blue sky! Then another! Waiting it out a little more, we even briefly spotted buildings all the way at the bottom. With renewed hope, we legged it back to the main building – which we could now see! – and watched the clouds rolling one after the other over the magnificent views we could now partly see.
I went back to the desk, agreed a half an hour window with the guy organising, ad ran back out to start taking pictures. By this point, it was too late for Sarah to join us due to another appointment, leaving only 4 of us to go ahead instead of the full 8 that we had originally planned for the evening before had the weather not gotten in the way. We payed our fees, left our items with Vincent, and went off to get harnessed up.
So for today’s latest idea on how to kill ourselves and end the trip on a super high, we decided to abseil down the mountain. At 1000 metres high, Table Mountain offers the highest abseiling opportunity in the world with 112m of climbing down the side of the mountain. Why I thought this would be a good idea I don’t know, but before I knew it I was climbing down rocks to reach the departure point and our guides that would help us not fall to our deaths.
The clouds were well rolling by now and the views were just as stunning as we had anticipated. Great for photos, but unfortunately it only helped remind me of just how high up we were. Walking off a mountain cliff. Backwards. Up the top of the where we had been, people had started gathering to watch us go off and had the pleasure of watching my cool composed face progressively turn more and more frightened!
Brenton and Kerrianne went down first, and I was pale as a sheet as they hovered over the edge not even grasping the rope that anchored them back to a rock. Down they went into nothingness, and the next thing I knew, I was getting attached to a rope next to Michael, who seemed oh so relaxed while the blood drained from my face.
My instructor Jordan would be the one holding the rope on the top side while I would be gripping on for dear life, more or less, on my way down. He tells me there’s a surprise for me at the bottom, and then starts telling me to lean back. Yeah, I am leaning buddy!!! But there’s a massive cliff behind me and I’m going to fall backwards and this helmet won’t do anything to help that!!
With great patience on their behalf and commitment on mine, I leaned back further and started to let a little bit of rope go through to continue to lean. Terrified of course. Once Jordan was satisfied with that, he told me to take a step back. Lunatic!! Next to me Michael was already on the edge with his heels over the ledge being all supportive to get me over, and slowly but surely I got there, gripping onto the rope with everything I had as my heels hovered over nothing.
So of course they pull out a camera and tell me to put both hands in the air. I was shaking my head in refusal, but they insisted. Up on the top I could hear people encouraging me, entertained by my clear resistance at letting go of the hands. So when I slowly and shakily raised both hands in the air for a picture, I received a round of applause from above – that’s always nice.
“Take a step backwards”. And so I began the climb down, legs straight, letting only a little bit of rope go through at a time, slowly walking down the cliff and absolutely not looking down! The guys then say to take jumps, so I bounce. “Big jumps”, he says, to which I bounce a bit more and yell back that it was a big jump!
The way down felt interminable. I desperately wanted to look down to see how much further we had to go, yet knew if I did that things would end badly. I crashed into the rock a couple of time trying to walk/hop down, and continuously freaked out when I saw myself head more to the left instead of straight down the middle. Not to mention my hands were aching with the strain of gripping the rope.
112m is a long way down. It’s the height of the bungee jump I did so many weeks ago, and to climb down it is loooong (and scary). So when I heard Brenton’s voice below me, I knew it was almost coming to an end, I was almost safe. Only a few more steps and I would be on the ground once again. So I stepped and stepped.
And suddenly out of nowhere, there were no more steps, just a massive giant gaping hole. I look down to try to find the rock, and see Michael hanging mid-air zipping down slowly. With no rock because there’s no rock for the last 25 or so metres. Turns out the “surprise” at the bottom isn’t a beer or a photo session, but just finding yourself in mid-air to finish. So I did the only thing I could do of course: Aaaaaaarrrrrghhhh!!
Brenton and Kerrianne were hysterically laughing below me as I gripped on to the rope screaming bloody murder. I could feel my instructor above trying to get the rope through to get me down, but every time I released my grip on the rope slightly, I went down! The fact that my descent was entirely in my own hands – literally – made this feel even worse than the bungee jump.
Somehow I got to the bottom where another operator met me with a huge grin on his face to unharness me, while I stood petrified and shaking. The others were laughing so hard as I cursed their names, and repeatedly stared back up the ropes telling them there was a massive hole there! Under better circumstances, I might have appreciated the sedimentation, or the natural beauty of the droplets of water dripping down the cliff, but in that instant I saw nothing but the horror I had just gone through!
My hands were shaking, my arms hurt from the strain I had put on my grip to not fall, and my grip had been so tight that the rope burned my skin when I touched it. Hilarious to watch, but my face was still dreadfully pale! As Brenton mentioned, and rightfully so, if I had known about the gaping hole who knows whether I would have gone through with it. So I suppose the surprise element could be classified as a bonus…
With everyone back down on the ground, it was time to hike back up to the top of the mountain. Looks like when they asked our level of fitness before commencing this activity, it wasn’t to huge whether we could abseil or not, but rather whether we would make it back to the top! The “path” we used was little more than an occasional marker placed on one of the many rocks with had to climb over to proceed. Without the guide, I can safely say I would still be at the bottom of the abseil wandering aimlessly hoping not to get eaten by a caracal!
The winds had well and truly blown the clouds away by now though, and we could now fully appreciate the views from the mountain. Table Mountain was listed as one of the “New 7 wonders of the world”. I’m out sold on the need for a new category, but I can definitely agree it deserves its place in this list. The mountain from the bottom is stunning, and the views from the top breathtaking.
Our hike up took a decent amount of time – between the photo stops and trying not to roll an ankle on a rock and fall off the edge… – but by about 14:30 we had made it back to the top. We found Vincent waiting for us by the coffee, received our certificates for the abseil, and finally started to make our way back down the mountain.
By the time we were back at the foot of the mountain getting into a car, we were absolutely ravenous. So it was decided we would fill a second craving today: McDonald’s! 2 months of ham and salad sandwiches opens up quite the appetite for a massive Big Mac and a set of nuggets! Satisfied with our feed, we returned to our hostel to waste the last few hours before our final group dinner.
We met up just before 19:00 to make our way to dinner. Mark and Lizzy had expressed a growing need for Indian food which we were all too happy to indulge, so we had found an excellent restaurant nearby. Good food, great company and a lot of reminiscing, what more could you want?
Unfortunately all good things come to an end, and it was finally time to split up. We stood in front of the restaurant, giving goodbye speeches to the group – often interjected by another story of “remember that time when…” – and said our farewells.
And then Brenton and Kerrianne went their way and we went ours. And then Mark and Lizzy went their way, and we went ours. But the worst part was watching Michael and Vincent say their farewells, after 2 months of tent-sharing and developing the most beautiful bromance. Going to bed that night was not easy, knowing we would not all be getting on a truck tomorrow, armed with our sleeping bags ready to take on the world. And knowing soon it would be me on that plane heading out, alone.
17/9/19
Another day when I could sleep in till whatever time I want, another morning I’m wide awake at 7:00 despite the late bed time. Yep, this trip will have ruined my sleep for quite some time. I can only hope this plays in my favour when I make it back to the UK and that it will pass soon!
I got up slowly and got ready even slower, only to find out Sarah and Michael were just as awake as I was. Vincent had left earlier in the morning to go shark cage diving so would not be back until the evening. I grabbed a free breakfast very quickly and met with the two leftovers to waste our last few hours together and pack our bags. Around 9:30, Michael got word that his transfer had arrived. So we walked him out, hugged our goodbyes and waved him away.
Sarah had booked a tattoo at midday, and with no other better plans I decided I would go with her. The place the taxi dropped us at was an industrial zone, looking extremely dodgy, and I promptly scolded her for doing this journey alone the day before! But sure enough the tattoo studio was there, and 2 hours later out we walked with her new design inked on.
We then made our way directly to the V&A Waterfront where we would be catching our ferry to Robben island – the infamous prison which held political prisoners, including Nelson Mandela. We had only about half an hour to spare before we needed to go, so we ran into the first restaurant we found which offered us takeaway options, and ran back out soon after to get to the waterfront.
And that’s the story of how 2 seemingly respectable looking girls get on a ferry with other seemingly respectable looking tourists and devour the life out of a massive burger on the boat! Quite frankly, my main concern wasn’t getting myself covered in burger juice, but rather getting seasick from a freshly eaten meal!
But in the end, to our relief, we were both fine. The journey across took about 20 minutes or so, during which time we were shown the tourism office video of Cape Town, essentially detailing every single activity to do and place to visit during our stay. By the end of this video, I felt like I had seen everything necessary and might as well have just done a virtual tour of the prison rather than put myself through the tour!
Once on shore, we were split up into 2 or 3 buses to carry through the visit of the prison and of the island. I instantly hated this situation. After spending so long with such a fantastic group of people travelling in places of pretty low standard, nothing was more annoying than the self-entitled tourist dissatisfied with the most first-world problems… Not to mention I was missing my group’s laughter and whispered funny remarks in my ear.
We began with a tour of the prison given by an ex-inmate. Our guide had spent “only” 5 years in the prison out of the 30 years, and therefore would have been able to give a more intimate tour of the jail. Unfortunately ours was a much more by-the-book tour with only basic information about the jail which anyone could have given. Apparently some of the other tours got a much more personalised and personal tour, but I guess like game driving, it’s all a game of chance.
Considering how long the prison had been in use and how many prisoners came and went through the halls and cells, the place was in remarkable shape. As political prisoners, the men here were treated slightly differently to other jails. No option for parole or altering one’s sentence, but depending on their political influence and visibility, they were put into different sections, fed differently and given various privileges such us studying opportunities or outside correspondence.
The tour took us around a couple of the sections, including the section where all new arrivals spent anywhere between 3-6 months before being categorised and placed elsewhere. This part in particular included stories from prisoners which had resided there on their treatment, or their lives before imprisonment, which only went to reinforce the meaning of what their sentence really was. After all, many of the convicts were in there for little more than suggesting they may like some equality in their own country.
Further to this, we visited the cell in which Nelson Mandela spent some 17 years. Not too shabby by prison standards, but definitely not a holiday resort. Following this, he had been moved to 2 further prisons before the government finally changed its policy and all political prisoners, regardless of their sentence, were released. They chose to renovate the prison into a museum and the rest is history.
We were then put back on the bus to do a tour of the island itself. Robin island was used also to put away people who simply fit the “undesirable” category of the population, including people being banished for their skin colour or beliefs, and even housed a community of lepers. We were shown the leper cemetery and the church – the only remaining leper building on the island – where some even got married to then go on having children, despite the rules against this.
The island today is home to about 200 people, including some current staff members, ex-inmates and even the some ex-wardens. All these people live in perfect harmony now and the place even offers wedding services and a school for this community.
We drove around for some time, reaching the point with the best view of Table Mountain back on the mainland. The island is several kilometres away from Cape Town, but the city and especially its impressive mountains are very visible. Prisoners sent to work in the quarries or outdoors were served this view as a reminder of where they were really, though some chose to look at the mountain as inspiration and hope.
A few photo stops later, we returned to the ferry terminal and back to the waterfront. We returned to the hostel where we met up with Vincent who had finished his shark diving as well. No great white sharks though, disappointing for him. None of us were in the mood to face the outside world again however, so we decided to order some delivery food and enjoyed it in the comfort of Sarah’s room. Last night to go!
18/9/19
Unfortunately for Olivia and I, the third night in our dorm was not to be as calm and easy as the first 2 had been. One girl checked in after midnight to the dorm, the other whom we had met earlier in the day returned around 3:00, full lights on of course. Add to that several loud group of late-night talkers staying up outside our window, we weren’t too impressed.
Wide awake well before 7:00 once again, I grabbed all of my stuff from the room and did the final reorganising of the bag outside in the entrance hall. To my utter disbelief, it all somehow fit in the big bag, which looked like a tightly wound sausage, ready to explode at the first mistreatment. But it fits and that’s all that matters!
The 3 of us left behind grabbed some breakfast, and then headed outside to meet our tour guide. Sarah would be leaving in a couple of hours and therefore we had to say our goodbyes out by the gate before heading to our van with Caitlin who had booked the same tour. And so our magnificent group of 8 was now down to 2 remaining.
We drove around Cape Town picking up several couples along the way, and then finally started leaving the city. Our destination today: Cape Point, or more precisely the Cape of Good Hope. This is the most southwestern point of Africa,and the dangerous cape which many explorers – including Vasco de Gama – had to navigate around to reach the East.
Ahead of us was one of the most fantastic tours I have ever seen and made me envious: a Harley Davidson tour. These guys were doing the same route as us more or less, but so much breezier. Those without a license rode on the back of the Harley bikers of Cape Town who wore microphones no doubt to provide tourist information along the way, while those with licenses followed behind on their own. In retrospect, I only wish we had known of this tour before, because we definitely would not have been in a van in this case!
We stopped several times on our way down the coast to take some pictures of the phenomenal coastline. The mountain ranges are stunning all the way down, and when you pair up giant boulders with crashing waves on a beach, you get postcard worthy shots, well worth the brief stops. Something I had never seen before and yet makes so much sense were the shark spotters at the top of the mountain with super binoculars to see sharks. To avoid killing dolphins and seals, they had to remove their shark nets and now rely on an alarm system given by these spotters to warn surfers to get out of the water.
Finally just before 10:00, we stopped at a ferry landing which offered brief 30-40 minute cruises to the fur seal colony on the island just off the shoreline. Caitlin from New Zealand gets plenty enough seals when she wants, and Vincent would be snorkelling with these very seals tomorrow morning. As for myself, I’ve seen, smelled, fed and kissed plenty of seals in my life and didn’t need to spend the money here.
So the 3 of us stayed ashore and visited the craft markets on offer. Many times I had to remind myself it was completely physically impossible for me to fit anything else into my bag, no matter how much I wanted the carved ostrich egg! We picked up some coffees, enjoyed the ambient fishy seal scent for about half an hour, and once the others had returned, off we were again!
Our guide provided a lot of very interesting information and history of the cape and of South Africa as a whole. I had known the situation before Nelson Mandela had been bad, but hearing the details from a local put things into perspective once again. We drove past different sectors and communities which had once been segregated and restricted through the separation laws in place at the time.
Our drive took us past an ostrich farm before we reached the front gate of the Cape Point National Park. The national park covers a number of routes and trails on the cape, culminating of course with the very southern point. We drove round looking at the vegetation and looking out for animals, which were scarce unfortunately. But within about a half hour, we had made it to Cape Point.
This part is at the foot of a hill on which the original lighthouse of the cape is placed. Unfortunately for them, as demonstrated by today’s weather, it turns out the lighthouse placement was of poor choice as it often gets covered in low clouds. And if we could barely see the lighthouse from our position at its foot, ships approaching had no hope of course, so they had to build a newer lighthouse lower down.
We were left here with plenty of time to enjoy, so the 3 of us decided for some dumb reason to walk up to the lighthouse – despite the perfectly operational funicular. It might not work well because of the clouds, but they definitely picked their hill correctly for a high vantage point! It took us a good 20 minutes to make it to the top, kicking up a ice sweat along the way.
And it was so worth the climb. The lighthouse has a beautiful view looking out to the bay and over the Cape of Good Hope further down. At least I assume it does. All we got was cloud, cloud and more cloud. With a nice strong, moist wind just for good measure. So we didn’t stick around the top very long and made our way back down to the parking lot.
We had several lunch options here and threw ourselves on a couple of pizzas before briefly walking around the souvenir shop. We had had the option of walking down from Cape Point along a coastal path to the Cape of Good Hope further down, but felt that we just didn’t have enough time to make it there by foot. And also that we had walked, climbed and hiked more than enough on this tour and didn’t absolutely need the extra bit here.
At 14:00, we hopped back onto the van and drove down to the Cape of Good Hope directly. A beautiful sight overlooking the cliff side awaited us there, and we almost regretted missing out on the walk if only for the views – no clouds down the bottom! We took our pictures and went on our way back to the entrance gate of the park and further up the other side of the coast.
Our next stop was Boulder’s Bay, home to a colony of African Penguins. These adorable little flightless birds are about the size of fairy penguins, maybe a little smaller, and are endangered. Penguins normally prefer the very cold temperatures of the Antarctic regions, but these African penguins have gotten used to the warmer wether of the Cape and thrive as much as possible here.
We walked around the boardwalk areas watching the small birds waddle their way around the beach. The wind was brutal down here, and brought sand with it making it feel like razors on our faces and bringing back my favourite crunchy feeling! Here we ran into a few of our other tour members by coincidence, who were busy making their way in reverse to us, and had the chance for one last goodbye before heading back to the van, leaving the penguins and friends behind.
The final stop for this small day-tour were the Kirstenbosch National Botanical Gardens, supposedly the 7th most beautiful in the world. With the stunning view over the back of Table Mountain, this is a well-deserved title. However none of us were all that interested in botanical gardens, and instead started y hitting up the cafe where I tour guide had said we would find scones with jam and cream.
10 minutes later, disappointed at the complete lack of scones, off we went into the gardens. We walked around only a little bit until I saw the sign for the treetop walkway, which I had seen images of in the video on the ferry yesterday. We decided to go check it out and found the rest of the group there as well, so we rejoined them and finished the walk all together.
We were dropped off at our hostel at 18:00, where Vincent and I said our goodbyes to Caitlin and the remaining members of our tour. Although we had been invited to dinner with whomever was left, I felt it was safer to stay around the accommodation rather than stress out over dinner and have to return in a hurry to pick up my bags and head to the airport.
Vincent stayed behind also, and instead we hit up the hostel bar/restaurant for a last beer together. Eventually however, it was time for me to pick up my stuff and make my way to the airport. Vincent walked me out, we said our final goodbye as well, and I drove off leaving him as the sole survivor of our amazing eight-some.
And so ends the most incredible and emotional experience of my lifetime. Over 58 days of touring this massive continent, more than 12,500km travelled overland, and a good 3,000 photos to sort through upon my return. As I sit in transit in Nairobi airport awaiting my next flight, I can hear the announcements for places that now bring so many memories: Dar Es Salaam, Livingstone, Zanzibar, Cape Town. Where once upon a time these names meant little more than a dot on a map, today I fight the urge to just get on any of these flights and go right back to it all.
And so much has changed, in what feels like only the space of a heartbeat. I have made friendships that will last a lifetime, my already inexistent fashion sense has died once and for all, my foundation no longer matches my skin tone, I can’t fathom looking at a ham and salad sandwich – or a tent for that matter! – for a long time, I will forever be picking sand out of my pockets and I look at every bush on the side of the road assessing whether I could pee behind it or not!
More than that, my perspective on life in general has changed. Yes, you should finish your plate because there are children in Africa with no food. But oh my are those children full of joy with what little they have! And that in itself should be inspiration enough to see the bigger picture. I’m no philosopher, but to end this diary on a thought for the future: with the right attitude, something as simple as waving at someone and getting a wave back can bring joy and adventure to your day. So cherish the little things!
Elodie's Travel Diary 