So, this is it, the end of our African Adventure. Remember when we started? We said that Africa is nothing like we thought it would be. It’s everything we hoped it would be. It is a lesson in contradictions, things you expect like Lions and Natives with spears on the road to things you don’t, like High Rise buildings, freeways and modern medicine. South Africa is developed and the Garden Route brought back memories of our first cycling days on The Pacific Coast Highway in California. The best of it all, The People, The People of The Rainbow Nation. It’s easy to fall in love with some parts of Africa. It’s hard not to fall in love with The People. We’ve met generous and caring people everywhere but so many here. Then there are PEOPLE LIKE NELSON MANDELA and KOFI ANNAN. These are Africans that you have to LOVE!

South Africa is a well developed and safe place to travel.
If it’s not on your list, put it there!

SOUTH AFRICA
Out of Africa, Into the 21st Century

April 14, 2004
12 Kilometers (Total 90 Ks for the day) I
nto Messina at 4:00 PM

The border passage on the South African side was simple. We rode up a little hill to the border building. A group of Immigration Police gathered round and pointed out the door to our ride in South Africa. Cat again went in, I stood and talked with the guys. They were astounded that we’d come through Zimbabwe let alone the 15 other countries north of here. 

The ride is pretty much desert on a narrow road. Suddenly, town, and the 21st century. It was 4:00 PM and the street was alive with shoppers. It’s Election Day and the polls are open. There is a feeling of celebration in the air. A guy on bicycle wobbled up and almost crashed into us. He pulled over and blocked the shoulder of the street and asked, “Way’re ya gwone”? He was in no condition to be cycling. We pushed past and rolled on but he caught us. I told him we were looking for a grocery store and motel. He launched into his life story. Otto is a Master Butcher and Department Manager at the Kwik Spar Market. He took charge and led the way.

Spar is through town, we kept our eyes open for a place to stay but saw none. We were surprised that they would sell wine today and surprised at the terrible selection they had. He strutted around the store slurring out our story to anyone who would listen. We passed on the wine but bought bananas, cheese, crackers and an apple. What a treat to walk through a store and find things, good things. The nice gal at the counter directed us just around the corner to the Impala Lielie Motel. Cat remembered that Wendy, our friend in Masvingo had recommended it, too.

The room was plain but large. The air conditioner was only blowing warm air. I walked down to the bar, they had a fine bottle of white wine and the manager said they’d fix the AC. The real treat was enjoying the cheese, crackers and apple with a good glass of South African wine. We are in the 21st century!

Oh yes, a super hot shower, nice towels and a very good dinner. Cat has been craving pizza. They had it, the dough was slightly undercooked but that didn’t slow her down.

9:30 PM, we’re exhausted. Our first night in South Africa and, they did fix the AC.

April 15, 2004
R & R in Musina (Messina)

Two stiff and sore bodies that slept through the night awoke late. Cat was doubly sore from her tumble yesterday. So, our first day in SA will be a day off. We’ll get our fill of Internet and stock up on our dwindling supplies. The included English breakfast was great. We both took our Monday Malaria pill and talked about how much longer we’ll have to take them.

Our first stop was Tourist Information. They have a small office just around the corner. Not much info, we did get a few brochures and a map of places we’ll pass as we ride the N1 south. The guys there knew little or nothing. They did tell us that there is an Internet Store next to the Kwik Spar Market. Rather than start the morning and possibly end the day on computers we walked on into town.

Musina, the old African city name, is a long strip of businesses. It reminded us of Mojave, California in that it has a railroad track behind the strip. There are 3 big supermarkets full of things that were impossible to get yesterday. Wow, politics do make a difference. We sought a bicycle repair shop but that’s one thing they don’t have, here. We replaced lots of grocery and toiletry items and I found a pair of sunglasses. Another discovery, they have Icys, frozen crushed ice with flavored syrup on them. Yummy, I had three!

The Internet Shop is actually a Computer Store. They sell machines, hardware and software programs. The owner, Cameron, seated us in his repair shop because the other 2 machines were in use. He explained that they hadn’t thought they’d need more than a couple of machines but business was pretty good, today. As we opened our e-mails he asked about the map on our t-shirts. Turns out that Cameron is an avid cyclist and of course wants to know everything about our voyage. He was busy repairing a computer that crashed due to program conflict. Otherwise, I think we would have spent the afternoon trading cycling stories.

Cameron, The First of Many Generous Acts

Cat went across the street and bought sandwiches. We ate while sorting out messages. After almost 3 hours we signed off and started to leave. Cameron came out of his office and suggested getting together later. We chose 6:00 PM at the Hotel, he agreed.

We’d just started a glass of wine when he knocked on the door. Voila, he brought a bottle of red. He’s spent time on our web site and figured it would go well and he was correct. The 3 of us sat on the beds and talked about riding bikes. He has been a racer but is suffering an arm and elbow problem that has temporarily halted his cycling. He has ridden the Cape Argus, the big annual Cape Town race.

About the state of the nation from his perspective, South Africa is going to be a tough place to raise and educate his children. Originally from England he feels that they’ll move back in 5 or 6 years. They have 2 daughters, his oldest is 14 but he says she acts 18 and that scares him. He wants them to attend good Universities. His description of both kids and his wife leaves no doubt that he is a proud and happy man.

Spurs Restaurant was his choice for dinner. Good food, better conversation and of course another bottle of wine. Cameron insisted on buying. This is the beginning of our “generous South African” experiences.

It was a wonderful albeit late evening.

April 16, 2004
Messina to Ingwe Ranch Motel
81 Kilometers

Up early, slight headaches hampered progress a bit. Awe the price of a late night with a great guy. The included breakfast and hot coffee helped pull us into the day.

We cycled back to Cameron’s Computer Shop for pictures and a farewell. He even took a turn around the parking lot on my bike. “Like riding a truck”, he said. Feels like a truck!

It was 9:00 AM by the time we shook hands, hugged and promised to see each other again, somewhere, sometime then pedaled away. Cameron had warned us of road construction and again, he was right. Riding was tough, narrow roadway, lots of traffic and no shoulder. In the 15 kilometers we were forced to ride on dirt several times. As if to add to the difficulty, we hit the hills, too.

Once through the construction zone the hills were gentle rollers, that wouldn’t last. After a brief stop at a truck stop, for “pies”, meat pies heated in a microwave, we pedaled up, up, up.

African Born and Bred

Another stop for soft drinks at a small store. When I took the cans back in to throw in the trash the guy at the check stand suggested that we should take a drink or food with us as a gift. I told him that we’d take his friendship. He liked the idea and shook my hand vigorously. Back outside, we decided to take a look at the wine at Jay & Ash Liquor Store. Choosing a bottle, we started talking with the older guy in the check stand. He, again, offered, actually insisted that we take a cold drink for the road. He sent a clerk for a big bottle of Lemon Drink and pressed it into my hands.

The guy next door came in, he’s Jayesh and Ash is his wife. The older guy is Uttam, his Father. After outlining our trip they told us that they are all “African, born and bred”. First and second-generation natives of Indian origins, they wanted to know about the world and our observations. Jay also told us that there is a Motel part way up the hill, about 13 kilometers from the store. “Up the hill”, those 3 words were the key to the rest of the afternoon. We left with a big bottle of cold Lemon Twist and another wonderful feeling for the Africans and their generosity.

Into the Darkness, Into the Tunnels

Ahead of us lies one hell of a hill and two tunnels. The first tunnel looked threatening and Cat decided that we should walk the bikes through. I pushed for a ride but she insisted. She was right, it was dark, noisy and traffic, cars and trucks with lights on, roared through like they were on a raceway. There are reflectors that stick out about 2 inches from the wall. Easy to see in car lights but I caught one in the dark and left a dark mark on my leg that would last for a couple of weeks. Hobbling in the darkness and pain, we finally met fresh air and sunshine.

They’re called the Hendrik Verwoerd Tunnels, yes, tunnels. The second basically the same drill except that it was tougher to get behind the guardrail. Then an even greater obstacle, at the exit the guardrail turns and attaches to the tunnel wall? The challenge, 2 tired cyclists had to lift the bikes and bags up and over. What a struggle, trying to balance them one at a time, without falling out into the speeding traffic.

Uttam and Jayesh had told us that we’d find a motel in 13 Ks. We were sure that we’d done that and more as we climbed up the steeper, ever steeper hill. Then the sign, Ingwe Ranch Motel, with an arrow pointing up a steep driveway. Pushing was so tough that I made it to the top then went back to help Cat. The place was a pleasant surprise. Our room was a cabin behind the restaurant and bar. Tom, a local, was helping take a window out for remodeling. It fell with a crash and showered the steps with huge shards of glass. Shocked, I asked and Tom assured us that he’s planned it that way.

Tom owns a business further up the hill called Doors and Frames. He has timber farms and was in logging for 25 years. His accent is intriguing. As he told us about his daughter, a musician on Cruise Ship plying the Pacific from South America to Alaska I decided that we needed him to do “You Must Be Crazy”. We already have it in Afrikaans but he explained its origins were Dutch. Funny we thought it was from German? What a nice guy Tom is.

"You Must Be Crazy," Afrikaans

A group of locals yelled and cheered over each play of a Rugby game on the big screen. Dinner was great, we were tired. No TV in room, we slept early and soundly.

April 17, 2004
Ingwe Ranch Motel to Mokopane (Louis Trichardt)
16 Kilometers

The great and plentiful breakfast fast became ballast. We dropped down the steep drive then swung back and forth in the saddles, continuing yesterdays climb. Up, up, up slow grinding pedaling then pushing. The road was lined with avocado and potato peddlers. One girl, Letia had small bags with 30 avocados for 25 Rand and a large 60 fruit bag for 40. Wow, that’s only about 8 to 10 cents each? How can they do it? (Someone later told us that often they have no cost, stolen fruits!)

Topping out, we were able to ride. Then it was a big fast down, into Mokopane. The mountain is covered with pine trees in neat rows. As we coasted into town Cat’s front shifting cable broke. About the same time my auto shifter began to act up. We limped into town and up to the door of the Tourist Info Center. It was already after 12:00 noon so we decided that it was too late to get the bikes fixed and go on. Edina was extremely helpful, she provided a town map and marked the Bicycle Shop, Hotel and Internet Shop.

Mohamed, Nonjudgmental and Generous!

Our first stop was The Cycle Center. They were busy and the lady told us that their mechanic wasn’t working so we’d have to come back on Monday. When we explained our trip she called for the owner, Mohamed. He listened then said, bring Cat’s bike in, we’ll figure out the shifting cable. He and his helper Peter struggled getting the old cable off but installing the new was a snap. What a great guy Mohamed is. We talked about tolerance, as he worked. He told of eating dinner out last week. After he was seated a family came in and sat at the next table. The waitress knew Mohamed and his family. She called him by name and when she left the guy at the next table told him that they were Jewish and asked if he minded them sitting adjacent? They got into such a warm and friendly conversation that Mohamed suggested moving the tables together. Why can’t the world and governments get along like good people do?

When they finished we took a picture in front of the shop. Mohamed, in typical South African fashion, refused to take any money. We were appreciative and slightly embarrassed. He also insisted on calling what he called the best Hotel in town, to insure that they had a room. What a wonderful human being, what a wonderful friend!

The Villa Grande is a family owned and operated place. The room is quite nice, just like the family. They don’t have a restaurant but suggested a couple. A Laundromat? Not in Mokopane. Cora, the Mom, said, “Give us your things we’ll wash them for you”. Cat asked the cost and she replied, “Oh, we’d never charge for that”. More good South African hospitality.

Starving, we shared the lineup at KFC with a soccer team. They were hungry, too. This is our first visit to a Kentucky Fried Chicken and we liked it. The food was tasty and hot. Sitting in a window seat we wolfed and watched the local comings and goings.

It was a long walk on a hot afternoon to the Internet Shop. We caught the beginning of the finishers of a 10K and half marathon as they ran back into town. Wow, it was too hot even to walk, how do they do it? They’re run was for charity, our walk was in vain. The Internet place had closed at 3:00 PM, their normal Saturday closing time? You’d think the place would be full of kids on a Saturday afternoon?

The Spar Market has an interesting sign at the front door. “Though our Security Officers try very hard Pick Pocketing is still rife, mind your purse and pockets”. We held onto our wallets as we shopped and decided to eat in instead of at the uninteresting restaurants. The lineup for fresh bread was almost a push and shove affair. Obviously they have good bread here. We ordered a barbequed chicken for 6:30 PM rather than chance that they’d still have one.

I spent the shank of the afternoon on the computer playing journal catch up. Cat scanned through the new books and maps that Edina had given us.

Back to the Spar at 6:00 PM, we bought the chicken, some cooked rice, bread sans lineup, and a can of veggies. Back at the Villa, Cora’s daughter microwaved our veggies and threw our cloths back into the dryer for another spin. *(Amazing, this is the first washer and dryer that we’ve seen in 8 months!)

We sat on the bed and picnicked while watching a movie then the news. Life is GOOD!

Sunday, April 18, 2004
Mokopane to Polokwane (Pietersburg)
107 Kilometers

The family doesn’t start serving breakfast until 8:00 AM. We had the bags packed and were ready to go then up to the serving room. A family from France, Serge, Pasqual and son Romain were the only other diners. They met while working with Air France. Cat worked with Air France in an earlier life so we had something in common. They’re headed for Kruger National Park and a safari. They live near Disney Land in Paris.

We loaded up on picnic supplies at the Spar and got a 9:45 AM start. My shifter was sticking, I had to kick start it occasionally. The road is fairly flat, long and straight with some small ups and downs. The scenery is semi arid. We’re cycling the N1, national Highway

Tropic of Cancer

The Tropic of Capricorn, unlike the Tropic of Cancer, has a monument. Well, it’s off the N1 on the old Highway. The road is full of potholes and the surface is rough. It has been neglected almost as badly as the monument. The obelisk has graffiti at the base and bullet holes up the shaft. We didn’t mind, better than nothing and it marks another giant step in our Odyssey. Tropic of Capricorn

Onward, down the old road then back onto the N1 into a small village. Homemade meat pies and Lemon Twist and we sat in the shade, leaning back on the building to eat. This drew a crowd of curious young kids. Then a couple of guys, arm in arm, swaggered up. They acted like they’d just had a 2-martini lunch. One, tall and thin the other was shorter and wearing coveralls. They were a little belligerent at first but when we gave them cards and told them of our voyage they became fast friends. In fact they began trying to provide crowd control, pushing the kids back to give us room. I finally asked them to stop. They insisted on shaking hands and it became a grip strength test. Of course I crunched down as hard as I could, they were surprised. Maybe they just humored me?

The Polokwane Pedalers

Lunch, though nourishing and tasty, wasn’t very restful. We rolled onward with 50 Ks and sundown looming ahead of us. It was already after 3:00 PM so we pedaled. Flat was good but it still took almost 3 hours to get into Polokwane (Pietersberg). Uncertain about direction we pulled up and bean studying our map. We were suddenly surrounded by cyclists, the Polokwane Pedalers. Gerhard, the founder and unofficial President took charge and offered us a place to sleep at his home. Explaining that we wanted a restful day off we graciously declined. He and Johan, his stoker on the Tandem, talked and checked the map then set our course into the center of town. They made a couple of recommendations for Hotels. They hurried for home and we for town as the sun was disappearing fast. Though we used their direction we chose The Holiday Inn. It’s central, clean has a restaurant and is close to our budget.

Margaret, our receptionist, gave us a warm welcome and a small discount. Every little but helps. We took the “No Breakfast” deal and pushed through the hallway to our room. So, we have CNN and AC. We did take advantage of their Big Buffet. Cat hates them because we always eat too much. Tonight was no exception, two huge appetites and no self-discipline. Cat even topped off with chocolate cake.

Stuffed we waddled off to bed.

April 19, 2004
Day Off in Polokwane

We called Gerhard and made a date to get together tonight with him and any other cyclists that can make it on short notice. Cat had spotted the Golden Grill across the street so we walked over to save money on breakfast. The waiter was a great guy, the food was so-so and the cost ran up due to charges for everything including coffee refills.

Our next stop was an Internet Shop. The recommended Post Net turned out to be a dud. We couldn’t get into AOL. The staff was less than helpful and we had to pay for the struggle time?

Next, a bike shop that Cameron in Musina had recommended. Babu, the owner was a nice guy with and his shop was well stocked. We bought gloves, handlebar grips and a spare Thorn proof tube. Neither he nor the nearby camping store had a headlamp to replace the one Cat left behind. Neither, either, had loose fitting cycling shorts.

Geez, this is going to get some getting used to, we found sox for Cat, CDs, even Mini CDs for the camera. That’s something we haven’t been able to buy since entering Africa. Our Visa card is smoking, burning up under the unleashed spending spree we’re enjoying since arriving in South Africa.

I went back to the H. I. to type, Cart found a different Internet Shop and spent another frustrating hour with no result. She had warned them up front about the problem yet still had to argue to get her pre-paid 30 Rand. (About $5.00 US)

Gerhard Continues SA Hospitality

Gerhard came alone, at 6:00 PM. We loaded into his orange van and visited he and his wife Teresa and their 2 young daughters. We sipped a little wine and talked cycling. They have their tandem hanging from the ceiling in the hallway. After an hour the girls needed dinner, bath and bed. Today is Grandson Timothy’s 13th birthday, we need to send an e-mail, Gerhard drove us to Charles and Antoinette’s and got them out of bed. They yawned and waited as we connected. She works with Gerhard, more SA hospitality!

We went back to the Holiday Inn and ate a late dinner, in. Packed and re-packed, we hit the sack and dreamed of Cape Town.

April 20, 2004
Polokwane to Mokopane
62 Kilometers

Early breakfast at the Holiday Inn feeding trough. (Big Breakfast Buffet) Choices, the N1 or the R101, the old road. We started on the old but soon saw that it was too narrow and more crowded that the adjacent National Highway. The wind was blowing then howling then screaming. In the height of the big blow Gerhard pulled up in his little orange van. He offered a ride but of course we had to decline.

Onward, as the skies darkened and the wind began to feel wet, then came the rain. Big drops began to pelt down on us. An off ramp led us to BJ’s Café just as the real downpour began. Sipping lemon twists we watched and waited then, like magic, the sun broke through the dark clouds. Even the wind began to moan and die. And, the best news, we set off down a long slopping run toward Mokopane. It became a picture perfect afternoon of cycling. We were in Mokopane just a few minutes after 2:00 PM.

Gerhard had insisted that he would help us find a place to stay. The directions to his office were vague, next to the Nursery? We rode back and forth then back into town. A stop at the service station proved fruitful, they directed us to the side street, around behind the Nursery. He’s in charge of all City Parks and other landscaping including indoor plants in offices. His crew also builds sets for community plays and exhibits.

Sleeping in a Breeding Park?

He has booked us in at a The National Game Breeding Park? Managed by his friend Mark, they have a small motel/guest house on the property. We cycled, Gerhard drove and introduced us to Mark. At first we thought we’d be obligated to take a tour but to the contrary, the tours are separate and cost. All the animals and birds are caged and managed. They breed endangered species and care for sick and wounded animals brought I from the bush. Mark’s a great guy, a deep thinking guy. He wanted to know details of our journey and shared info on their projects. Another benefit, he let us use his computer to check Internet. Another employee, Dylan, sat a while and talked. He wants to head out some day, travel the world but not on bicycles. Swinging Spider Monkeys

Mark had suggested that we could take an adjacent room for bike parking. It is currently occupied but the couple will be leaving, soon. Mark seemed irritated that they were here carrying on an afternoon affair. We assumed that one of them was a higher-ranking government employee than he. I told him that it seemed appropriate to have an affair in the National Game Breeding Park, after all we’re just animals aren’t we?

Cat asked Gerhard what a “Ladies Bar” is. He said it was easier to show us than try to explain. He whisked us across the street to the Protea Hotel. His friend and the manager there, Neil from Wales, is a character. He joked and laughed us through a tour of the Ladies Bar. Seems the name comes from the days when they had separate bars for single men. The Ladies was reserved for women except for those married, they were allowed to be joined by their husbands. Today it is as integrated as the rest of South Africa, anyone can imbibe regardless of sex, color, creed, etc., etc.

Back at the Park, Cat wrote notes on the day’s activities while I used Mark’s computer to check e-mail. A very good deal, he allowed us the use for FREE! He sat and chatted while I read and wrote.

We walked back to the Protea for dinner. A little disappointed that Neil had gone, we weren’t at all disappointed by the meal. Though Mark had urged us to take a taxi back for our safety, we decided to walk. A warm, moonlit night and a walk without incidence, a fitting end to an otherwise blustery day.

Surprise, there were 3 guys seated in the living room area. They had taken over our garage room. Maybe employees of the Senior Official? So, the bikes will remain lashed together near the TV that held their undivided attention.

April 21, 2004
Mokopane to Modimolle
80 Kilometers

Though we had wanted to cycle to his office Gerhard insisted that we walk over? Maybe he feared theft but we wanted to get out immediately after breakfast. We met at 7:45, took a tour of his domain then he drove to the restaurant. Sort of a set menu, yet faced with a 110 Km day, not as much food as we’d have liked. However, the coffee was hot and the conversation great. Gerhard plans to visit the US someday and we hope that he’ll allow us to offer the same welcome he’s extended. We’re really getting used to this “South African” hospitality.

It was after 9:00 AM by the time we got detailed instructions about our route and bid Gerhard adieu. Funny parting with someone who was a stranger yesterday can cause an emotion rush at parting. As I always say, “The best part of our Odyssey is going into the unknown daily. The worst is saying goodbye every day”!

We set off on the old highway toward Bela Bela, the name translates to Warm Baths. Gerhard has cycled this road and says that it has plenty of room for bikes. In fact, it was a 4 lane with few cars or trucks. He had also prepared us for the hills, not mountains but a few pretty good pulls.

Lunch at a cross roads that had a Wimpy’s Burger place. Pretty good fast food, they even have table service. We sat and watched everyone get out of their cars and stare at the bikes. As we mounted up a young guy here on holiday with his family asked about our trip. We got a card into his hand before the kids drug him away toward food. The old road has more ups and downs that N1 and it narrowed abruptly at a T-junction. We began riding to the right but turned back in just a few hundred meters. The shoulder completely disappeared and the edge of paving dropped off about 15 centimeters. (6 inches)

A quick backtrack and a long up to the N1. It became apparent that we weren’t going to get to Bela Bela so we set a new course for Modimolle. Even with shortened distance it was 5:00 PM by the time we got into town. Our noses led us to the local Pizza place. They suggested a B&B called the Pink Gables Inn. Though it’s 2 Ks up, yes, up the road, it was a wonderful place.

Thelma greeted with that familiar SA Hospitality. The room is furnished in 1800s period but has a wonderful tub/shower. There’s a TV room and they receive both CNN and BBC. What a great deal, now all we had to do was figure a way to get back to a restaurant. Thelma suggested having food delivered from her favorite restaurant.

Showered and dressed in our sweats, we hovered near the TV and got our fill of great pasta and world news. More war in Iraq, the largest single loss of American lives in one day and April is shaping up to be the month with most casualties since the invasion. How will it ever end?

Peter, another guest, is a meat inspector. He’s here on business and will be working here for a month. He had no problem telling us his opinion of President Bush and it wasn’t a very positive one.

The room is cozy the bed comfy with canopy, no mosquito net needed.

April 22, 2004
Modimolle to Carousel
80 Kilometers

Thelma serves up a great breakfast. She and husband Japie have owned the place for just a few months. It’s her business but he does the landscaping. He has a day job with a company that sells irrigation equipment. They have a daughter, Carmie who is just starting to crawl. Japie has made an offer on a farm. Thelma hopes that the deal doesn’t go through, she fears farming. I told them the story about the farmer who won a million dollars. When the newspaper asked what he’d do with the money he said, “ Guess I’ll just keep on farmin’ til it’s gone”! He laughed, she didn’t. I told her that we thought she was British. That made them both laugh. They told us that neither spoke English before they bought the Inn.

They poured over the map with us, told us about road conditions ahead then conquered that the N1 would be our best bet. After a picture in front of the Inn we waved goodbyes and set off into a beautiful morning. It’s a 10 K ride back to the N1.

A car pulled past then over. The driver got out and waited for us. We approached with caution but his smile shown brighter than the morning sun. Allan owns a game ranch just ahead. He invited us to stop and spend a day there. He’s a cyclist and wanted to know everything about our ride. Today he’s going to Pretoria and invited us to stay with them at there home. We’re pretty sure that we won’t make it 130 Ks and our plan is to stop at a Casino that Japie and Thelma spotted on the map for us. We had to turn down his offer for a ride, too. You know, we must be true to our orbit, at least as true as possible.

With sun on our backs on a slight wind in our faces we rolled along at moderate speed. Flat and fast except for the tollbooths. We passed by 3 during the ride. Passed by meaning that we rolled around the booths passed the smiling attendants. They all waved and wished us well. One rushed out, we thought he would ask for money but he just wanted to caution us not to cross the sensor strips or they’d have to charge.

The Casino, A Good Bet!

Plenty of signage led us to the gates of The Carousel Casino. The gate looked like the ticket booths at Disneyland. At the gate arms a guy waved us over to the last lane. He asked if we have a reservation. The answer no brought a look of dismay to his face. He called someone then told us to wait. A few minutes passed, I approached and he told us to go off to the right and enter through the employee entrance.

We cycled along the front fence then toward another gate. The guy there motioned For us to go back and around, we were coming in the exit. Another security gate, then we leaned the bikes and Cat went into see about a room. Nobody seemed to know what we were talking about? I sidled in, keeping one eye on the bikes, and joined the conversation. We couldn’t understand what they wanted? Then a gal, Teresa, came through who spoke good English. She is with a company contracted to do the janitorial work.

Just when we thought we were getting somewhere the Security Manager approached and told us that we’d have to go back around to the main gate. The guy there had been mistaken.

Okay, we weren’t very happy but we rolled back around, through the gate as though we had a reservation and into the main doors of the Casino. (They did wave the 10 Rand fee for the discomfort, that’s about $1.75) The Hotel is pretty glitzy as a Casino Hotel should be. While checking in we met Liz, the Operations Manager. She’s heard of our problems and offered apologies. When we asked about an Internet connection she offered her computer.

Starving, we accepted then she pointed us toward the fast food court. A sandwich and soft drink filled that need then it was into the room, a shower and rest. Liz’s computer would let us in but not allow answers. After an hour of frustration we just read and saved messages for another day.

 

Casino Tour

Dinner at Giovanni’s, pizza of course. Funny, you walk down the center and the restaurant looks like it should be outside. Not a lot of people here, the Casino is pretty sparsely populated and Giovanni’s didn’t require a reservation. Interesting, they have a separate area for non-smokers behind glass. However, like most gambling joints, there were plenty of folk puffing and gambling.

Repack, then TV and shortly, sleep.

April 23, 2004
Carousel to Pretoria
65 Kilometers

Checking out, Liz surprised us by reducing our room rate by almost ½. Then, in typical South African style she hovered over our map and helped us route into Pretoria. She also forbade us to travel on the old highway. It’s too far, the shoulder is not bike friendly and there are two townships that she feels may pose a problem for us. The worst part of the plan is that we have to backtrack and you know how we feel about that. It adds 6 Ks to the ride, too.

Another nice day, another easy passing through tollgates. Traffic on the N1 is light, the shoulder huge and the terrain, flat. Lunch in the sun at a PetroPort. We bought soft drinks and ate our left over Giovanni Pizza. The sun was hot, so much so that it stung a slight abrasion on my knee. As we ate a couple of guys stopped and asked where we’re headed. Mark and Bertus are cyclists. They live about 100 Ks south of Johannesburg and invited us to call when we get near and stay with them. More of that SA hospitality. Cycling to Pretoria

Our ride on the N1 intensified as we came into Pretoria. We rode along singing, “Oh we are cycling to Pretoria, Pretoria, Pretoria. Oh we are cycling to Pretoria, today”. The traffic roaring past couldn’t hear our song. Every on/off ramp was a challenge. We had to stop, wait for a break then scurry across. Our maps were a little confusing but we somehow chose the right exit and were in the city streets. Our goal is to get to Arcadia, an area of town. Cat was raised in Arcadia, California and her parents still live there.

Cycling on the streets here is thrill a minute. There’s no space on the road for bikes and no room in the minds of drivers for us, either. We were finally banished to the sidewalk, a bumpy narrow path. We found a sign for Arcadia and took a pic of Cat. There were a couple of Arcadia Hotel signs, too but we failed miserably in our attempt to find it. A big sign for the Marriott Courtyard drew us down a side street. The girl was very kind and helpful but the price for a night here is way beyond our budget. She took our map and drew a route to Hatfield, another nearby neighborhood.

Another sign that advised of a weekend special at the Protea Hotel. We found it without too much difficulty and it was a perfect match. Restaurants and Internet Cafés in abundance surround the place. We had to push up a very steep parking lot ramp to the rear door. They’re elevator was large enough to take the bikes up to the room. We made a quick trip to the Pick and Pay Supermarket next door for a bottle of wine then wasted the rest of the afternoon on the Internet.

A warm shower and dinner down the street at Greenfield’s. The service and food were wonderful. The price fit budget. We were happy cyclist campers. They even had a huge piece of carrot cake to top off with, delicious!

CNN and early to bed.

April 24, 2004
Pretoria to Johannesburg
62 Kilometers

Greenfield’s feels like home, like a very upscale Denny’s. The grabber was flapjacks. Yes, they have pancakes and maple syrup on the menu. When we saw that last night we canned plans for Egg McMuffins and knew we’d be back here. It’s been more than 18 months since we’ve had pancakes. We weren’t disappointed, this felt like a little piece of Americana. We rolled down the steep ramp and onto the street at 9:00 AM.

We faced a long up out of Pretoria. Lost then refreshed with directions from locals, we re-immerged into the thick flow of traffic on N1. This may be the most dangerous cycling we’ve tried. Each on/off ramp was a heart pounding rush. It was pull up, wait for a hole in the flow then dash. The worst was 2 lane ramps. The stream of cars and trucks seemed endless.

As we struggled up we were met with motorcade after motorcade. Most were black Mercedes speeding along behind motorcycle police, sirens screaming and red lights flashing. President Imbeki, his Cabinet and supporters headed for Pretoria and his second Inaugural.

Now the N1 went from bad to worse. Our wide shoulder lane shrunk to minimal. This is not a fun ride, its nerve racking and dangerous. We decided to go escape and turned off at the Old Johannesburg Highway. Though it is narrow, too, the traffic was minimal. The road was lined with pine trees and became a study in pedal hard up then glide down.

Lunch, we’ve cycled 40 Ks and the difficulty factor has taken most of the energy our Flapjacks had given us. Midrand is supposed to be midway between Pretoria and Joburg. Our search for food took us into a large shopping center. There on the fringe was a Pub style restaurant. Another “feels like home” experience, it reminded us of a Marie Calendars in Ventura. The waiters were more interested in checking out the bikes than serving soup. Saddling up, I dropped my helmet. It needed a patch job. Chivon at Beauty Haven, had tape and a smile. Like a broken nail, she made it whole, again.

Back onto the N1, then following directions from our friend, Cuan, (que ann) we veered off to the right on the M1. Another tollgate, this time a not so friendly gatekeeper. As we started slipping past she shouted. I turned and pushed toward her straddling the bike. The cars in line were impatient and left little room to slip through as they constantly moved, one at time, through the gate. I yelled from the shoulder that we had passed through all other gates without having to pay. She shrugged and said she’d call the Metro Police if I didn’t stop arguing and pay up. I pushed in front of a startled motorist, held up the progress of the impatient and paid. She did allow us to pay as though we were one vehicle. It was only 4 Rand (about 65 cents) but it was the principle of the thing that irritated us. I gave her our card, she glanced at it then held out her hand for the money. In a form of protest I took my sweet time digging in it out of my wallet. All I had was a 50 Rand note. She frowned, handed me the handful of change then smiled and raised the gate.

Constant and ever increasing traffic drove us off the M1 and onto a 6-lane street, Louis Botha Street in an industrial area. Industry gave up some of its corners to commercial properties as we rode up, yes, more up. A young couple, Celia and Brett pulled up, blocked a lane, and asked where we were going. She told us that they’d seen us, circled the block for a closer look then decided that they had to know. They’re familiar with Joburg and the radio tower that Cuan had told us to ride toward. They thought we were on the right track and told us to continue to Hillbrow then take a right.

Cycling in the Bronx?

We pedaled onward, slowly upward in moderate traffic when we heard a horn honking and saw Celia and Brett signaling for us to pull over. They had rethought their advice and she said, “That area is like the Bronx in New York, it’s not a good neighborhood”. Lacking any further ideas, Celia suggested we talk with the group of Police at the next corner. Then, as they prepared to drive away she invited us to stay with them when we pass through their town. It’s about 100 Ks south of Joburg. We told her we might just do that, we’d be I touch. What nice people, concerned about our welfare they have now spent more than half an hour circling and talking with us.

The crowd of Cops were involved with an arrest. The guy looked like he’d been drinking and was resisting arrest? One Policewoman listened to our questions, had another guy listen then a group that had clustered around them all agreed that we should continue to Hillbrow and turn at the Police Station about 6 Km from here. Out of options, we set off but as the neighborhood changed to commercial and residential Cat became more and more nervous. A Minibus Taxi pulled up at a light and a guy leaned out the window. He shouted at us, “What do you have in the bags”? The area was seedy and the people on the now crowded sidewalks looked like the type that might want a bicycle and some bags.

Cuan to the Rescue!

We crossed the street on the green light then pulled up on the sidewalk. A Policewoman sat eating lunch in a small café. The window was open and Cat asked her advice. She shrugged then said, “You should be careful in this place, there are some bad people, lots of good people but some bad”. That did it, tired and nervous, Cat was ready to call it a day and call Cuan. The Policewoman pointed across toward McDonalds when Cat asked for a telephone. It was Cuan to the rescue, he answered and told Cat that we should wait, he knew the place and he’d come pick us up.

After off loading the bags we just stood and watched the typical comings and goings. It’s Saturday and just like at home, there are several kids celebrating birthdays. Little faces under cardboard crowns, covered with ice dream and cake. Some were screaming with joy, others in agony.

Cuan (Que Ann) pulled through then circled back around. His classic Land Rover handled the bikes and bags. Cat had to jam into the backbench seat amidst the pile of WorldRiders equipment. What a great guy this guy Cuan is. We’d only met him for moments in back in Tanzania yet we’re already beginning to feel like family. You may recall, we met him and William, the Irishman, in Iringa. He also introduced us to Joel, AKA Masharubu, in Mbeya. We stayed in contact via e-mail and he invited us, almost insisted, that we stay with him in Joburg.

Cuan’s girl friend Debbie has only recently moved in. They hit it off and dated for 7 months. He’s never taken the plunge, several near misses but never got to the altar. She married once but just for a moment. What a beautiful couple they make, what a couple of beautiful people. We celebrated our arrival with a glass of wine, Zydeco Music then hot showers. Cuan and his Sister Juliet have owned the house for 8 years. It’s a classic that includes a separate guest room and loft rental out back.

Melville is a wonderful little neighborhood tucked into the midst of the other 5 million folks that make up Joburg. It reminds us of Noe Valley where friends Franklin and Aura live in San Francisco. We walked to the little main street and dined in one of Cuan’s favorite places. Wine, laughter and stories of life filled the evening. On the trip back home we bought muffins and sweet rolls for breakfast.

More wine and music, even some singing and dancing on the beautiful wooden floors of the dining room. Debbie and Cat did a sing along with Frank Sinatra that sounded good at the time. We decided that the video shouldn’t make these pages for obvious reasons after reviewing carefully. (Pretty bad!)

Sunday, April 25, 2004
At Home in Melville

Maybe it was the late night or just the wonderful relaxed feeling but we slept through the night and didn’t awaken until after 7:30 AM. Breakfast, fruit and great coffee. Debbie calls the cinnamon raisin rolls covered white icing “Chelsea Buns”. We just call them tasty. Soaking up CNN news as we ate added to the joy.

A trip to the huge shopping center and the very upscale Woolworth Market for dinner supplies. Cuan chose meat and we bought wine for the occasion. What a surprise, Woolworth’s has died and gone to heaven in the US. Here it is alive, well and very upscale.

Johannesburg “The Crime Capital of the World?

Cuan is completing a bid for a UN project. He went back to his computer and I hit the keys of ours, playing journal catch up. Cat walked to Spiro’s Restaurant and the Internet. Debbie decided that she should give us a guided tour of Joburg’s upscale neighborhoods. We picked up a frustrated Cat, the Internet wouldn’t work. Debbie drove and pointed to mansion after mansion. This is not the Joburg that we’ve heard or and feared. Our trip took us to Market Place, a huge mall full of small shops. African crafts, furnishings and more. I the food section Debbie bought cheese, ham and pesto. I spotted a yellow Ferrari amongst the Mercedes and BMWs, is this really Joburg, the “Crime Capital of the World?

Our foursome gathered round the table in the kitchen and enjoyed great sandwiches. Then Debbie left for an afternoon at here office as Cuan and I returned to the keyboards. Cat went back to Spiro’s only to continue the self-torture, the machine refused to recognize AOL?

A Lamb and Boerewors Braai

Debbie brought a glow of joy into the room when she returned at 8:00 PM. Cuan and I tuned out the computers and he fired up the Braai. (Barbeque) Debbie whipped out some wonderful salad and sweet potatoes. Cuan turned the coil of Boerewors sausage (Beef Sausage) and the lamb chops until they were cooked to perfection. Chilly though it was we sat at the patio table in our sweats and jackets and enjoyed the food and each other.

 

		Scary Mines

The party moved inside, we listened to Shawn, Cuan’s brother-in-law’s CD. He’s an internationally known guitarist and his vocals range through 4 octaves. Eventually the girls faded while Cuan and I watched, “When We Were Kings”, a wonderful documentary about Mohamed Ali’s Rumble in the Jungle with George Foreman, a boxing match held in Angola, Africa.

April 26, 2004
Business Day in Joburg

A cool coffee and toast morning. Debbie’s off to work, Cuan drove us to his Travel Agent Jan’s office to pay for and pick up our tickets to Victoria Falls. Our second stop was a Bike Store recommended by friends of Cuan. We took the bike there for a checkup. Since our old shoes have disintegrated we were happy to see a big selection of sizes and styles. We also bought shorts, leg and arm warmers, a heavy inner tube and mirrors. We are having the techs install the mirrors and new pedals as well as check the brakes and wheels.

On the way back we sat at Cuan’s favorite sidewalk table at Spiro’s and had lunch. Cat tried to get on AOL and failed again. During lunch most of the other patrons stop, shake hands and talk with Cuan. One group was worried and taking a guy to the Doctor. He has been feeling ill and almost passed out here. Cuan drove to the Post Office and we mailed the pictures from Malawi, Mozambique and Zimbabwe.

A call to FedEx confirmed that they are holding our package for ransom at the Airport. They won’t deliver unless we pay more than $300 US because the package contains our new camera. That’s half the price of the camera? We decided to stop on the way back in from “The Falls” because it’s a 240 Rand taxi ride out and back.

Debbie came in and we were soon on the way to “Supper” at her friend, Laureen’s home. Surprise, it was really a Supper Party, in celebration of tomorrows Freedom Day. Plenty of free flowing wine and conversation. About 20 friends stood talking in the living room, den, around the Braai and the pool. These Africans are typical Yuppies. The talk politics, business and social topics. Though we were sort of fringe because we knew none, they were all nice and did chat with us.

The Braai wasn’t loaded up until 10:00 PM. Food was very good, dessert was scrumptious. Ice cream, brownies, a rich pudding, fruit, cheese and green figs. Needless to say, all this led to another late night.

April 27, 2004
Flight to “The Falls”
Freedom Day in SA

Late to bed, early to rise, yawn. A quick packing of our borrowed suitcase, muffins and coffee then Cuan drove us past Jan’s home to pick up our air tickets then onto the airport. More of that SA hospitality, it’s a long drive against fairly heavy holiday traffic.

Had just enough time to check e-mails at a very fast but pretty expensive Internet Shop. Spent 30 minutes and cleaned up most back messages. Almost had to run to get in line for boarding. I sat next to Graham, a cattle rancher and tobacco farmer from Zambia. He and his family have been shopping in Joburg. They feel badly for Zimbabwe farmers but he agrees that there was a lopsided land issue and that the farmers all too often flaunted their wealth. Nice guy, nice family. The flight was smooth, the food good and best of all, we got back on the ground safely. (That’s my idea of a successful flight, takes off and lands safely!)

Chuckie (Chookee), from Bushtracks Africa, was holding a sign with our name among 3. She led us to a van, we joined the others and were whisked off to The Zambezi Sun Hotel. She did a light commentary describing the non-descript scenery and the town of Livingstone. It’s pretty touristy but that has some value. Three young guys played drums and sang African songs in honor of our arrival. The Hotel looks like it should be in Scottsdale, Arizona.

The room doesn’t have a view of The Falls, in fact none of the rooms do. We can see the cloud of spray and hear the roar but any view is hidden behind trees. I suggested that they should clear some but was rebuffed by the gal at the front desk, “This is a National Park, removing trees is against the law”. We also learned that we’ve chosen the worst time of the year to be here. It’s high water season, in fact this year it’s flood season. They say that there’s more water falling over than has in over 30 years. Native Africans call it Mosi-oa-Tunya, The Smoke That Thunders”. So, we can see the smoke and hear the thunder.

A walk to the view and some other nearby areas then back to the room and a few minutes of relaxation. We blew our plan to see the sunset but got back to the in time to realize that sunset isn’t very dramatic. Oh well, we’ll catch it and all the other sights tomorrow.

Dinner was to be the Big Buffet until we looked over the faire and cost. There is another restaurant, inside the Casino called Squires. Casual, and good food for a price closer to our budget. Pizza lured us in and it was good. As we finished the Chef/Manager came to our table to make sure that we were happy. He asked about the maps on our jackets and after outlining our story he insisted on giving us a Don Pedro. It’s an ice cream and whiskey thing and it’s GREAT!

April 28, 2004
Big Day at Vic Falls

A Three Baboon Day

I was in the shower, Cat wanted fresh air but when she opened the slider she got a big surprise. Two cute Baboons sitting on the deck rail made a dash into the room. As Cat screamed they ran directly to the coffee set up, stealing all the packets of dry cream and sugar. Her screams put them on the run. They clutched the packets and jumped to a nearby tree limb. Sitting there, calmly opening the packages, they had a banquet. Obviously this isn’t their first raid, they knew where to go and what to grab. It almost looked like they had smiles on their faces as they licked the packets. Once she got the glass slider closed they moved back and perched on the rail again, waiting for another opportunity.

Our included breakfast is a huge buffet served at pools edge. As we approached a big, burley Baboon dropped from the roof and grabbed handfuls of food from the table of two startled ladies. The staff yelled and feigned throwing things but the old fellow took his time climbing back up a vine to the roof. What a start and thrill for the ladies. And, our second Baboon breakfast raid of the morning.

A couple at the table next to us opened conversation. Really nice people, Peter and Wally are from Hamburg, Germany but have lived all over the world. Peter worked with Mercedes Benz then the EU for 8 years after retiring. They’ve lived here in Zambia, Ghana in Africa, as well as Sri Lanka, New Guinea, Libya and Iran.

Cat threw our rain ponchos into the bag as almost an after thought. Once we neared the falls we were glad to have them. In fact there was a small stand renting them to fellow falls viewers. Walking down one of the trails that leads to the precipice and river below was like walking in a monsoon downpour. Even with ponchos we feared getting our camera wet. Our shoes and shorts got soaked so we squished back to drier ground.

The walk toward the Zimbabwe side passes dozens of booths full of woodcarvings and other souvenirs. Crossing the border includes a crossing of the Victoria Falls Bridge that was built in 1905. It shakes like an earthquake when the big trucks rumble by. They only allow one vehicle at a time onto it. The bridge is a favorite bungee jumping spot, too. One guy had already jumped as we rounded the corner. We did watch as he dangled and bobbed, head down, waiting for the crew to reach him and haul him back up. The jump would be terrible, in our minds, but the rescue after is even more awful looking. Cat saw the guy finally climb over the rail. She asked and he did the thumbs up, “Fantastic”, he said. He’s probably think that we’re crazier than he if he knew of our trip.

 

		Smoking Thunder

Our hope is that they’ll allow us to come around for the Zim side view since our Visas are still valid though only for single entry. Most of the other people walking to or from the border had umbrellas. The spray drifting over was so thick that we had to put our ponchos back on. There’s absolutely no view from the road, or at the Zimbabwe border. The Immigration Police were friendly but firm, we could re-enter if we pay $30 US each. We did our best sales presentation but failed. Our walk back through the Smoke, near the Thunder, was again without view.

French Road Warrior

Our walk back led to a meeting with another “Road Warrior”. Christophe, from France, has been cycling from France for 5 months. He came on many of the same road as we’ve traveled. His pack only contains a bedroll. He lives off the road and sleeps with families, in their yards or houses. His favorite place to spend a night is schools, which brought back memories of our night in the Russian School. He’s had constant diarrhea, amebic dysentery and malaria, 3 times. Too tough for us, but what a nice guy.

 

Road Warrior	The Falls

Our walk to the footbridge crossing was another soaking. The spray was so thick that we couldn’t see at times. Sloshing, we climbed back up and warned others about the impending storm below. We followed the sun and began to dry out.

A few pictures with the statuary on the grounds then lunch at a small walk up café near the Casino. We had a so-so sandwich but the best of it was, another Big Baboon raid. Sitting, eating in the sun, we were completely relaxed when suddenly out of nowhere or off the roof, another huge male baboon dropped down and began stripping food from the table nest to us. I jumped up and threatened but he ignored. The woman screamed and still he continued to fill his hands with food. The staff rushed out and sent him flying back up despite handfuls of food. Once over the shock, the woman and her son got a good laugh from the incident.

I went back to the room and worked on these journal pages, Cat walked. She explored the riverbank up stream to The Royal Livingstone, the adjacent Hotel. It’s the upscale place but she says she likes the Z. Sun better. The buildings are white and Colonial looking. The restaurant is chic and expensive looking. A deck juts right out into the swollen Zambezi River. She was intrigued with a herd of zebra grazing on the lawn.

Our CNN News is all Iraqi and all bad. April is now a record for single month casualties of American troops. More than 100 have been killed and deaths since 3/20/03 have now surpassed 700. Yes, more than 700 19 year old boys and girls have now gone back home in body bags. What were you thinking George W.? We couldn’t stand the blood and guts so switch to a horror movie.

Dinner again at Squires. No Chef, no Don Pedro but the same good food and service.

One more dose of CNN and Iraq then bed.

April 29, 2004
Victoria Falls to Joburg

A beautiful rainbow greeted us when we pulled the drapes back. It hung in the mist, the smoke above the thunder. Our scavenger friends, the Baboons and Monkeys were nowhere to be seen. We enjoyed another huge breakfast, they missed that, too.

Packed and ready for the flight back to SA we took a walk. Cat was guide, up river to the Royal Livingstone Hotel. The Zebra grazing on the lawn were tame enough for us to walk up to and have a picture taken. Back at the Zam Sun we chased down the couple from Germany, Peter and Wally, and got a picture of them as they were leaving. We also met a couple, Brian and Mildred, from Georgia, USA. Fun for us to talk with. He’s a Doctor and an avid cyclist.

The boys in the African greeting band were playing welcome music to new arrivals. I got a picture and video of them. Dressed in native garb, one who hasn’t traveled as extensively as we have might think that they live in mud huts and hunt lion with their spears. They’ve just been playing together for only 3 months, they all just got out of school so this is like a summer job. Nice guys, Clever, Lufasi, Stanley and Franco. Fun to talk with, fun to watch.

Our Bushtracks Africa van rolled away form the Falls at 11:30 AM. Chuckie had a card with her e-mail address for us. She says that she has thought about our travels and agreed that we “Must Be Crazy”. The van made a special stop for one of the passengers, Olivier, who takes pictures of Post Offices and Mail Boxes all over the world, for a friend.

The Airport was hot and stuffy. Beyond my dislike for flight, the AC on board cooled my sweaty palms. Another great flight, it took off and it landed and as I’ve said before, that’s a GOOD flight. We were on the ground at 3:15 PM, retrieved bags and caught a cab.

Less Than Civil Servants!

First stop, the DHL Office. The manager there fond our paperwork and sent us back down the road to the Customs Office. The clock on the wall there read 3 minutes before 4:00 and the sign told us that they close at 4:00. We thought we’d just made it when dozen or so people, most women, in white shirts came down the hallway. We asked who we should see and the lead lady told us with a smile that they were closed. I objected and pointed to the clock. Several chuckled as she said, “Sorry but we’re closed, come back tomorrow”. W couldn’t believe it and there was no room to negotiate, they were headed out the door? When we told them that we’d have to pay a Taxi 240 Rand ($37 US) to get back out here they just shrugged and walked on away.

In deference to other workers, Joseph our cab driver was a gem. He came with us into DHL and expedited their service. He tried to get the Customs employees to help us, to no avail. He also wasted no time getting us back to Cuan and Debbie’s place. It was rush hour yet he seemed to know short cuts and less used streets. We were at the gate by 5:30.

Debbie’s working late this evening, Cuan has us lined up for dinner with friends, Ken, Angela and their daughter Robin. Not only nice people, Ken and Angela have toured a lot of Africa on bicycles. Dinner was another treat, as was the South African hospitality. Cuan talked with Robin while we traded cycling stories. They brought their bikes out and we got a picture next to their pool. Another wonderful meal and fantastic evening.

April 30, 2004
A Day With Cuan and Debbie

Cuan cooked breakfast, pancake and bacon, our second I less than a week. We told him we could get used to this kind of service. He called a Taxi Company he uses and cut a deal, to the airport and back for 200 Rand. This is less than half when compared to the normal faire. Our driver was a nervous Afrikaner, he talked to himself and other drivers. He had little patience with other, especially the taxi van drivers. He says that they get away with murder, the way they drive. At one point, as we waited for a stoplight to change he pointed out a woman standing, begging. She was weather beaten, her skin was leathery looking. He let his prejudice slip through the thin veil he maintains and said, “Look at her, she used to be white, now she’s one of them”. He was referring to the blacks also begging near her.

A South African Observation

Unlike Zimbabwe, the whites here make up a larger portion of the population, about 15 % compared to 3% there. Another distinct difference, there are white people in every economic level here. We noted that Gerhard was a middle-income guy and this woman was proof that there are also poor whites here. These are just 2 examples, we’ve seen many more. The key is that in Zimbabwe we found a few middle level folks but most whites had money and the things that money buys. This observation is in no way a scientific survey merely our feeling based on what we saw. If you want exact statistics go to www.Google.com.

Our trepidations were groundless this time around. We walked right into the Customs Office, up to a window and pushed our papers under the glass. The Officer looked at them then asked, “Are you leaving South Africa soon”. We told him of our trip then he asked, “Will you take the camera with you when you leave”? He signed and stamped the papers as soon as we answered, yes. So, it cost $35 for the taxi but we did save the more than $300 we were told last week. With clearance in hand we sipped over to DHL and they immediately released our package.

We had the Taxi driver drop us at the Bike Shop. Another interesting trait, he talks as though he knows the streets of Joburg by heart. Somehow in his heart he lost the direction but we were able to find a landmark building and get him to take the turn. He continued to expound upon how the street was marked improperly even as we paid and he began to drive away.

The bikes were ready, the clothing and shoes in bags. The bill was BIG but the items were sorely needed. Cuan pulled up and helped us load into his classic Rover.

Back in Melville, it was like Christmas. The only disappointment, they had sent new jackets, we need cycling jerseys, ours are faded and thread bare. Awe well, there are bound to be little mistakes when doing business at this distance, by e-mail. The camera is fantastic. It has a 10X telephoto lens and many of the features are similar to our other camera including the battery. The big difference, it uses a Memory Stick rather than Mini CD. The included Stick is only 32mb. (We will find later that this will only take 15 photos.) Charlie was able to find an extra that is 256mb, that’s actually larger space than the CDs. It’ll take some getting used to but should give us some great photos.

Cuan has completed his report and says he needs a haircut. The 3 of us walked down to the main. Cat dropped off at Spiro’s for a last shot at e-mail. We went around the corner, I decided to get my head buzzed again, too. In short time we were both looking freshly shorn. Cat was nowhere to be seen at Spiro’s. We took Cuan’s favorite table on the sidewalk and waited. *A bit of bad news, one of Cuan’s friends told him that the guy who was sick when we were here last week was sent home from the Doctors and told to prepare to die. He has advanced AIDS and there is no treatment available.

Cat came up, she’d found another Internet Shop and it worked fine. She reported that to the Spiro staff but none of them know how to adjust their machine. Lunch was better than the Internet service. It’s fun to watch Cuan hold court as we ate. He really knows everyone who comes in.

He walked back home, then to the new Internet Shop and spent a couple of hours working through the messages. Back at the house, we readied a package for mailing home then walked to the Post Office.

Dinner out at The Local Grill, Melville. A fun place, great food and wine, too. Debbie took the new camera for a ride. She even took a close up picture of my ear. We had so much fun, sharing details of our lives and travels. The wine flowed freely. Steaks were cooked to our specific order and followed by wonderful lemon meringue pie. Full of food and fun, we waddled back home. Gosh it’s good to be with good friends.

May 1, 2004
On The Road, Again!
Johannesburg to Parys 24 Ks in Cuan’s Rover, 75 Kilometers

Geez, parting is sorrow and not so sweet. We pulled the sheets off the bed in our cozy guest room and left them on the washing machine. Bags packed we took them to the garage then enjoyed coffee and toast with Cuan and Debbie. It’s doesn’t seem possible that strangers just a few days ago can feel so close as we prepared to go.

Cuan refused to let us cycle through Johannesburg, we didn’t think it would be that difficult but he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. Not wanting to bite the hand that fed us, we quietly agreed. I wanted pictures of the house and our guest room. The camera somehow glitched. (Not the new camera, the older one.) It began to try to “repair data” then the ugly news flashed onto the led screen, “Disk Error”. I tried two more times but both failed. Cat was anxious to get going, we have a long ride ahead and it’s getting late. Debbie needs to get going to work too. I gave up and switched to the new camera to get one last pic of the happy couple. Hugs, a moment of heavy emotion then she was off to work and we to our continued adventure.

Cuan gave us another guided tour of Joburg. We cruised through downtown but were disappointed to find the Nelson Mandela Bridge closed. We knew that the meaning of Gauteng, the Sotho name of the area means “Place of Gold”. Cuan pointed out large yellow hills all around town. These are tailings from the gold mines. They’ve worked them for more than 100 years. There’s a bar and restaurant in one of the old mineshafts, Cuan says that it’s ½ a kilometer underground.

 

Family

Parting, That Damn Sweet Sorrow

Our only disappointments here are that the trip back to the airport robbed us of the time to visit the Apartheid Museum or Soweto, the township where the struggle to end Apartheid was born. Now, Cuan and Cat were pushing to get going. He has to get back to his home office and we need to hit the road.

It was a little after 10:00 AM when we got our equipment out of the Rover. The final hug of the day was a tough one. You’d think that we’d be used to saying goodbye by now? Handshakes, bear hugs then moments of uneasy silence. Cuan turned and walked away, out of our life for now but we’ve given he and Debbie honorary family membership. We’re sure that we’ll see them again. We both had big lumps in our throats as he drove away.

The ground was scattered with bags, I decided that we should check the fit of the new pedals. They are hard to clip in, adjusting didn’t seem to work, but I couldn’t seem to move it. We decided to ride them for a while and see how they feel. Both of us were dancing around, Cat went searching for a toilet. I danced and adjusted the brakes. The mechanics had the brakes clamped down but didn’t true the wheels so they were dragging. No toilet, I stood behind a big street light post then Cat popped a squat there. (We heard a girl in a movie say that she needed to “Pop a Squat”, we loved it.)

There were 3 guys sort of hovering around nearby. They had small birds in cages? Probably caught them and are trying to sell them. We worried that they might also deal in bicycle parts. They drifted off just as I got the bikes back on their wheels. It was now 11:00 and we were off.

The guys at the tollgate just waved to us as we rolled out around the sensor strips. The neighborhood there is definitely a township. Small shacks with corrugated tin roofs. We’d not ridden 2 kilometers when I had a problem. My shifting belt tangled up on the gears and broke. That is a first in more than 23,000 kilometers. (14,200 miles) It requires pulling most of the bags back off, removing the rear wheel then putting it all back together. The locals sat in chairs off to the side of the road watching with interest.

Back up and rolling but not for long. Cat felt that her front wheel was wobbly. Flat was what it was. The bike shop had switched front wheels. Mine was the one without a puncture resistant tube and she’d picked up a nail. More removal of bags, a change of tubes to one of our heavy duties, then finally we were rolling south. Hectic was a good descriptive for our first morning back.

The road is flat and weather is optimal, sunny but cool. Tall grass or grains line the route. Late lunch at 55 kilometers, Meat pies at a BP Service Station. We asked a local farmer how far it is to Parys and he told said, “Ask my wife there in our Bakkie”. (They call pickup trucks Bakkie’s but pronounce it Bucky here.) They had a typical husband/wife discussion and decided that it was 20 Ks. When Cat sighed he said, “Why not just come over and stay with us”?

Geez, more of that wonderful SA hospitality! We appreciated the offer and told them so but if we fail to get to Parys we won’t be able to make the distance to the next town, tomorrow. It is pretty sparsely populated out here on the prairie. Leaning against the wall we gulped down our pies and soft drinks. We’re so late that Cat’s beginning to fear darkness.

While we’re dealing with pronunciations, Parys and Paris as in France, sound almost the same. The S As say Parees in a slightly different accent than the French. They’ve a few things designed to remind you of Paris, France like a tiny Eiffel Tower and French Flags flying here and there. So, it’s possible, here, to jump into your Bakkie and go to Parys. No need to take a plane and fly all day.

The 20 Ks was on old road, no shoulder and quite a bit of traffic. Probably heading home from work? Most were kind and pulled wide giving us room. A few little ups and downs but fairly fast cycling and we were in Parys well ahead of sunset.

Louie To The RESCUE

First stop, a grocery store. The clerk, Louie, was beyond personable. We asked for wine and he said, “That’s in my Liquor Store, across the street”. He led us across and asked where we were going as we walked. Inside the store he helped us choose a bottle, we grabbed 2 since tomorrow is Sunday and all Liquor Stores are closed. AS we came to the check stand the gal saw already checking out her register. Louie told us that Liquor Laws require them to close at 5:00 PM on Saturdays. It was 5:10 PM, we were in trouble and facing a wineless weekend. Louie said told us to bring the wine through. I didn’t want to cause him any problems and told him so. He said, “I can’t sell you wine but don’t worry, I’m giving it to you”.

Man, we’re getting to really like this SA Hospitality thing. We stood and talked, Louie’s family came here from Madeira when he was 5 years old. He’s Portuguese and proud of it. He’s also proud to tell us that he not only owns the Market and Liquor Store, he owns the Spurs Restaurant, too. A confident and successful young guy. He pointed out the Hotel, it’s above Spurs. Surprisingly, he doesn’t own the Hotel.

It was tough finding the entry to the Palm Court Hotel. We were pleasantly surprised when we the guy inside pressed the buzzer and opened the security door. The price was right and the place is classic. It’s more than 100 years old and has recently been renovated. The only problem from our perspective is the stairs. Our room, one with a shower for Cat, is up, across and then down several stairways. The owner made room for the bikes in a closet. We only carried our cloths and the computer but that’s still 2 trips up, over, and back.

A hot shower in a claw foot tub. The shower curtain is sort of suspended and seems to be falling down. It did leak but the floor is designed to take the water. A glass of wine thanks to Louie and dinner at Louie’s Spurs restaurant, a pretty good life.

The only thing missing was CNN or BBC. We had to rough it with SABC and E Channels. They tend to mix languages and most of the news is local, as it should be.

Sunday, May 2, 2004
Parys to Kroonstad
101 Kilometers

Breakfast was included and pretty darn good, too. We were able to trade off the Boerewors Sausage for extra bacon. The sausage is too dry and spicy for us. It comes back to haunt as you ride. The taste isn’t any better, to us, the second time around than it was going down.

Our early start was slowed by a desire to get a picture of Louie. We cycled to the Market and asked the guy in the checkout stand if Louie was in. “No but he be ear in few minutes”, he responded in a blend of Afrikaner/Portuguese. We waited for 20 minutes then I asked again and told him that we just wanted to get a picture of him. He picked up the phone and called then said, “Eee be ear in 10 minutes”. I asked if he and Louie were related, his chest seemed to swell as he said, “Yeees, eees may Son-in-Law, married my daughter”. Who wouldn’t be proud to have a Son-in-Law like Louie?

It was fun talking and getting to know Louie just a little. He doesn’t spend all his time working, just most of it. His hobby is Drag Racing. He has a car and says he spends too much time and money with it but obviously loves it. Probably driven to win just like in his businesses.

Meet Louie

Rather than backtrack, Louie told us that the old road would be a good ride and we’d save 20 kilometers. That made the decision easy. A woman honked then rolled her window down and asked where we were going. She was so full of questions that Cat finally told her we had to get moving. It’s only 10:15 but she’s already thinking about sunset.

Narrow, no shoulder and a busy flow of cars had us wondering if we’d made the right decision? Then, we reached rolling countryside and traffic was replaced by small ups and downs. At 14 Ks we found a small store. Cat loaded up on lunch food while I stood the guard. The road widened a bit and the surface improved. We sat in the sun at 1:00 and picnicked.

The scenery is strictly grassland, brown grassland this time of year. It reminds us of South Dakota grazing land. Cattle are scattered in small herds trying to find sustenance in the dry stubble.

 

		South Dakota
		Kroonstad 73

It was 5:00 PM when we rolled into Kroonstaad. Signs advertising the Arcadia B&B lured us along until we saw Hotel Hacienda. It’s looks were a turn off, concrete block in pinks and gray that betray it’s age. However, it is here and the Arcadia is still and unknown. We tried to ask about the Arcadia at the nearby Service Station but couldn’t get passed the language gap. So it was the age dated Hacienda.

Cat told them that she wanted a shower but the double rooms only have baths. The thought of taking the bikes to the room was another stumbling block. I was asking how to get to the Arcadia B&B when they decided that we could stay in the old section that hasn’t been rehabbed and they’d give us a key to a single room where we could shower. Awe, the old adage, “All things are possible, just ask”. Well it was ASK then THREATEN that got the job done, here.

We took turns going down to our other room for showers then went to dinner. The service was good but then we were the only people in the restaurant. The food was great. For dessert, carrot cake, perfect!

May 3, 2004
Kroonstaad to Winburg
101 Kilometers

The day started cold, breakfast in the restaurant next to the pool. A little kid walked through one of the sliding doors. The kid was okay, but the window was gone and the wind knew it. Even sitting at the farthest table from the flapping drape was cold. The food was warm, we wolfed it down.

I stopped at the Service Station to give a guy we met last night one of our cards. We spoke different languages but communicated just fine. He is the kind of person that you feel you know just by looking in their eyes. A firm handshake and we were on our way with a new friend in our lives.

The cold continued through the entire day. We slipped our arm and leg warmers on and kept them on. Kroonstaad is much larger than we thought. Cycling through was tougher than we thought it would be due to thick traffic and narrow streets. Asking our way, we found Sweet ‘n’ Salty, a candy store with Internet connection. I want to check because we’re hoping that Don and Betty the couple who owned The Golden Spider Web back in Zimbabwe have sent us a message. We hope to meet them in Bloemfontein.

The couple that own the place, Frans and Chantelle, asked about the map on our jackets. Once they heard the story they wanted a picture. I took one of them then he had us pose with the bikes. He feels that the local newspaper will like to hear of us. We told him that we usually don’t try to get press and have learned that it’s not easy to do. By the way, no message from Don and Betty.

Here we were again, after 10:00 AM and headed out into an unknown 100 kilometers. Cat made a great decision, we pulled up at Pick and Pay for some lunch things. It was a long pull up out of town and the traffic was dense. Once we broke free of city the road flattened somewhat and the flow of traffic diminished. It was so desolate that at times we wished there was a little more traffic.

Ventersburg is the halfway point of today’s ride. It’s also little more than a crossroads but both sides of N1 are lined with Service Stations, Mini Marts and a few fast food places. We chose Speers, what we consider an upscale fast food place. Our order of burgers and fries was taken at the counter then delivered to the table by Mabel. She’s out going in almost a happy go lucky way. She joked about our jackets then became so interested that when we finished eating I asked her to pose for a picture. She insisted on coming out front with the bikes. Then, she chose to pose on board Cat’s bike. She’s the kind of people that make these days, this trip, memorable!

The afternoon was a series of ups and downs through fields of brown. The sun was trying to slip away as we entered Winburg. It was ask, ask, ask time and our first ask was a young girl. She pointed ahead and indicated that we should go ahead then to the right. We started off when the young boy, her brother J C caught us on his bike. He called out, “Follow me”, and raced off down the street. We had a hard time keeping up but did roll up to the door of the Winburg Guesthouse close behind him. It was definitely dusk and we were definitely cold and tired.

Jock checked us in. When Cat asked how many people live here he said, 2,500. We both thought it looked bigger and she told him so. Then he astounded us by saying, “Well there are about 30,000 blacks living here, too”. He added that some of them are out of work as the mine laid off 1,500 today. Not like a prejudiced statement, not with malice, just a statement. He doesn’t seem to think the way that we do. He’s still talking talk and thinking thoughts that were the norm here, before 1994. Some things die, hard!

The place, like Jock’s thinking, is age dated. Our room is large and has a shower. Too bad, it has 3 single beds. Well, after todays ride it won’t make much difference. The owner’s Sister-in-Law served dinner. The owner is a local farmer, his brother and wife have just begun running the place. He bought the Hotel down the street that’s been closed for several years. They’re re-building it and will soon have two places here. The Brother-in-Law is a cowboy. He has lived in Texas and loves Country Music. He has a huge collection of C&W CDs. The food was less than good, pasta like we’ve never seen pasta before. Sort of a catsup sauce on over cooked spaghetti. To top it off, it was cold. Nice people but they have a long way to go in learning the Hospitality Profession.

We caught a movie in the room while huddled under all the blankets. Yes, no heat. They have an electric heater but no place to plug it in.

May 4, 2004
Winburg to Bloemfontein
115 Kilometers

A cold night followed by a cold day. Huddling under the weight of the pile of covers had us sweating while our noses were freezing. Breakfast was almost as uninteresting as dinner had been. The Cowboy and wife were cordial. When they asked how the food was we just smiled and nodded. Hopefully they’ll get some help in the food service business. A gal, Petro, seated across from us, introduced herself. She lives in Cape Town and is here with the Health Ministry, checking the hospital facility. She invited us to call when we get in and they, she and her husband, will give us a tour of the Cape. More hospitality.

The ride again is little ups and downs in grassy prairie. There are trees in some of the riverbeds but most of the scenery is grazing land and small herds of cattle. We’d picked up some meat and cheese in Winburg but the bakery hadn’t delivered bread yet. There is absolutely nothing in terms of stores, service stations or any other services along the road. We slipped past the tollgate un-noticed on the way out of town. The bread we bought two days ago was hard but better than none. We lunched under an underpass. At first we sat in the sun but its rays began to burn our faces. It’s great fun to get honks and waves from truck drivers now familiar with us.

 

		Sunflower Harvest

The afternoon passed quickly, maybe due to the friendly motorists passing, honking, waving, flashing their lights and giving us the thumbs up? At last, at 15 Ks out we came upon a Service Station/Mini Market. Even the cold afternoon hadn’t taken our appetite for ice cream away. As we stood licking the cones several people gathered round and talked with us about travel, the world and George Bush. His ratings may be up at home but they’re in the basement here?

It was dusk as we rolled into Bloemfontein. A group of cyclists ending a day ride, maybe a club, passed and waved from across the road. We’ve seen so few that it was a memorable moment. We almost thought of chasing them to get ideas for places to stay. The friendly Holiday Inn sign lit up as the sun sank out of sight. Our concern about the price of a room disappeared when the nice lady informed us that they were fully booked. They were busy checking others in but she took time to call another Hotel. They too had no vacancy. She tried another then another with the same result. We were beginning to panic when she said, “Bring your things in, we’ll make room for you”. Bless her and the Holiday Inn. It is cold, dark and foreboding looking outside. She couldn’t guarantee that we could stay tomorrow but at least we were at home for the night.

They don’t have an elevator and our room, the only room available in town as far as we know, is on the second floor. We got the bikes to the bottom of the stairs and stood staring at the obstacle. I asked the young guy out front to help. He took one look and said, “You must keep these in our luggage room.” Now that sounded like a good plan.

We’ll take tomorrow off and may have to move anyway.

During the process I met a guy, Abbey who asked what we were doing with bicycles in the Hotel. He works and travels with a firm called Eskom. As we talked and I told him of our web site he volunteered to do, “You Must Be Crazy” in his native tongue, Sesotho or South Sotho.

Mpeg 035 “You Must Be Crazy”, Sesotho

There’s nothing like a HOT SHOWER after a cold days ride. The restaurant here is called MacRib. They have a great buffet spread. The room filled I with giant guys as we loaded our plates. They’re Rugby Players, here for a tournament. So, that’s the reason the town’s booked? A mountain of food, at least as much as any of the huge guys ate, ice cream for dessert then, off to bed.

May 5, 2004
Day of Rest in Bloemfontein

Trying to escape the Hotel atmosphere and cost of breakfast, we went searching. A big sign on the sidewalk tugged at us. Everything it promised may have been true except the part that said, “Open”. The young guy who greeted us cheerfully said, “Sit down, have some coffee, the chef will start cooking in 30 minutes”. We were now becoming too hungry to wait and I never drink coffee before eating my fruit. Couldn’t get out of sequence you know. Then, across the street we stumbled upon a homey looking place. The waitress, Melize, made us feel at home, too. And then came the best part, waffles. Waffles with maple syrup and bananas, wow, delicious.

As we were having our second cup of coffee Clive came over and opened a conversation. He and his wife Denine own the place. They’ve just opened it a month ago. He’s been farming but lost interest and sold the farm. The restaurant is Denine’s baby, he is dreaming of starting a “Quick Lube” place. You know, where you drive in and they change the oil, lube and check the water, tire pressure etc. Maybe even a car wash. He say’s that there are none here. Sounds like the farmer will make a good entrepreneur? Actually aren’t farmers the epitome of the entrepreneurial spirit?

One of our goals for today is to have Cat’s ears checked. Her hearing is diminished to that point that she can’t hear low sounds including trucks bearing down on us. Clive took it upon himself to guide the two cycling Yanks. The Medical Clinic we’d heard of at the Hotel turned out to be the Emergency Room of the Hospital. We shook hands and wished Clive well in his new endeavors then entered the corridors of Medicine. It was the same process, checking in, as any hospital we’d been in, any where in the world. Once the paperwork was out of the way we were seated and waited.

The facility is very modern. The Doctor, a woman, took one look and confirmed my suspicions, earwax. She turned the operation over to a nurse who brought the tray of warm water and wicked looking syringe in. I raised the camera and she said, “Pictures of employees and equipment of the Hospital are prohibited”. Though it didn’t make sense I did sneak one of Cat and the syringe. (Strange rule, eh? Fist time we’ve heard that one?) Both ears flushed clean and a prescription for drops, we were out the door for 200 Rand, less that $40 in less than 40 minutes.

The Internet shop in the Big Mall didn’t speak AOL. I went back to the room and our keyboard, Cat found another at The Waterfront, a shopping center on a lagoon. She cranked out 3:45 of reading and writing messages.

Dinner in the downstairs diner, again. Tonight they had a veggie buffet. Cat went for that, I stuck with lamb and the trimmings. CNN for dessert then sleep, sleep, sleep.

May 6, 2004
Day Off in Bloemfontein

Now that we’re back in Big Mac territory we’ve talked about breakfasting there. In my single days I used to get and Egg McMuffin with juice and coffee. I’d have the juice with the egg and 1 side of the muffin then put jam on the other and drink my coffee. You know, that thing I have about the order of food thing.

The budget idea was blown from the start. The picture of the breakfast deal had a cup juice included. The clerk said that we could have juice or coffee but not both. I couldn’t believe it, the picture had all the items and the sign said that coffee was included. He insisted and persisted until Cat stepped in. She hates conflict this early in the morning. I hate wrong, even if the wrong is not a very big deal.

So, we ordered the deal and paid extra for the coffee. I was as steamed as the coffee. (McDonalds serves hot coffee, remember the 105-degree lawsuit, where the woman took a sip, burned her lip and dropped the cup into her lap? How could you forget a million dollar award? Only in California”!) I don’t give up easily, a guy oozing with authority came in then took paperwork and sat at a table in the patio. I took my argument to him. Yes, he was the manager and yes the picture does lead you to believe that the juice is included, Big Mac knows it’s misleading and they’re changing the picture later this week. So, we had an explanation but no offer to vindicate?

I couldn’t leave it at that so I pointed out the picture they portray as the original McDonald’s in Indiana or somewhere. I pointed it out and told him that I used to drive through the ORIGINAL McDonald’s in San Bernardino, California. He squirmed under the pressure of two incorrect signs in one morning but said he’d look into it. It was obvious that he didn’t believe me but then, who cares. I know whether he and all the other Big Mac’ers do or not. I think Cat was a little embarrassed.

Still hungry we stopped at a nice looking Coffee place and had muffins and real lattes. When added together the costs and found that we could’ve had the big buffet or bre