As dawn came this morning I lay in bed listening to a choir of birds. The birdsong here is very different to home. Very exotic. In some respects I am finding it hard to get my brain around the fact that we are here, at the southern tip of the enormous landmass that is Africa.
The other difficult bit is reconciling the fact that our luxurious accommodation contrasts markedly with the wilderness out there. Ok ok we are actually in the wine country not the bush but my imagination runs wild.
The luxury bit is relatively new. My cousin William would not have seen anything like it when he landed in Cape Town in 1832. His final destination, Grahams Town, or Makhanda as it is known these days, was a long nine hundred kilometres further to the east. What a journey that would have been in 1832. Would they have had horses? I supposed there must have been a Graham.
Sat now on our balcony I can hear someone sweeping a path. He is somewhere behind the hedge that surrounds and brings privacy to the pool. The pool has four jets of water that cause ripples on the surface providing a very relaxing background noise. Elsewhere I can hear what must be a tractor busy doing tractory things somewhere on the vineyard.
Here we have views right across the valley. Franschhoek was originally founded by Hugenots fleeing religious persecution in France. Hence the name. I imagine there would have been local Africans already living here but in those days little regard was given to such facts.
During William’s time in Grahams Town there were “native” uprisings of twenty thousand men against a hundred European soldiers.
There is a Hugenot museum in the village which we might visit this morning. It’s one of those dilemmas. We’ve come all this way so we should see as much of the place as makes sense but on the other hand the surroundings of our hotel are so pleasant it is difficult to not want to spend all out time here.
The village itself is very pretty. En route to the hotel we stopped at the weekly market yesterday and I bought my first tshirt of the trip. Hannah also picked up a few bits and bobs. We will also likely eat there this evening, after an afternoon of wine tasting. When in Rome…
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Order of play based on discussions:
La Petite Ferme
Rickety Bridge
La Motte
Haute Cabriere
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Africa, a continent where only the coast is mapped. At least that was the case in the nineteenth century which doesn’t seem so long ago in the great scheme of things. Dr Livingstone died on 1 May, 1873 at Chief Chitambo’s Village near Lake Bangweulu, Zimbabwe today. Malaria and dysentery did for him. He must have forgotten to pick up some anti malaria pills before setting off. I bought a pack of thirty six for seventy odd quid. Expensivo but enough to keep the lurgi at bay for both me and Hannah whilst we are deep in the bush. Quite literally the cost of living.
I expect to avoid dysentery by drinking bottled water with an occasional sundowner to ward off anything else that might come our way.
We won’t be going anywhere near Lake Bangweulu although it would have been nice to see the place. There is a river that flows near our game lodge so I expect we will pop down there to look at the crocs and hippos that must surely abound. From a safe distance obvs. The camera zoom lens will serve us well.
I’m in two minds about the crocs. Do I really want to see one leaping out of the water and grabbing a gazelle, dragging it under and finishing it off with a death roll. It is the reality of life in the bush. Crocs have to survive as do gazelles. We have to desensitise ourselves to reality in the wilderness.
If we catch a lion bringing down a zebra then we should consider ourselves lucky. A herd of elephants will undoubtedly be walking on by watched by a leopard from his branch on a nearby tree. The water buffalo will be restless and should be avoided. Rhino and giraffe will continue with their business.
In the evenings we will gather around the fire listening to stories of the wild. Tales of yesteryear. Exploration and high adventure, sweat pouring down the back of our necks and through our clothing like rivers turned on by the intense heat of the African summer. The lethal, killer heat of relentless sun.
We are fortunate to have the airstrip next to the lodge that can fly us in and then return us to what is often referred to as civilisation although I’m not so sure that is a correct application of the term nowadays. As we land at that remote airstrip I expect the theme tune to Daktari will be playing and the roar of the jungle will grow increasingly loud.
The landrover that is waiting will drive the short distance to the lodge where we can freshen up and prepare for our first game drive. Our first sortie into the jungle where darkness will soon fall and we will become totally dependent on the knowledge of our local guides for survival.
The long haul jetliner that brought us here and will eventually take us home seems like a time lock, a capsule that is entered and removes you to a bygone age. If you let it, and why not. Yanow life would be dull if we can’t dream. The other night I dreamt I’d bought a double decker bus and was having problems with the handbrake but that is in a different story.
We are not yet at that stage of our adventure. For the moment we remain in the wine country preparing ourselves mentally for the tasting afternoon ahead.
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Interesting. As I finished writing this bit and was trying to post this we had a power outage. It’s back on but the router is taking time to reset 🙂
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Darkness is slowly descending on Franschhoek. Hannah and I are picnicing on our balcony, exterior light on. We have had a good day of wine tasting. Three wineries, one of which, Boschendal, stood out from the others. We went for the premium selection, something not on offer at the others.
It has cooled a little on our balcony so I have donned my safari jacket. It looks the part, in my mind although it may only be in my mind. We shall have an early night.