Thursday March 31st Honeywood Farm 10:40 PM

Although the day was spent driving uneventfully from Storms River to the Moodie Family Farm I am awfully content in my cottage bedroom without a roommate in a comfortable bed with good company right next door. This is perhaps the best and most preferable living situation yet but let me start from the beginning.

Tuesday morning we all waited around as the hired-by-roger bus showed up late by 45 minutes. We were on the road by 9 and took our first pit stop at 10 – starting what would continue to be a stop-filled ride out to Storms River, completing our journey in just less than 7 hours (granted yes, there was an hour lunch break – but still.) It was a really long drive but, miraculously I was able to sleep in a variety of contorted positions throughout much of the ride. I had a double seat and a pillow and curled into a contented sleep. The ride passed most uneventfully with a stop in Mossel Bay for lunch – a tasty (and surprisingly boneless) fish and chips on the cliff of the bay. Afterwards we had an hour or so to kill and we poked around the town without finding much of interest.

We drove through Knysna on our way to Storms River, arriving at our hostel well past 7. I had started Rayda Jacobs “Confessions of a Gambler” which I also would recommend to anyone looking for a quick entertaining novel to read – while in the beginning you may want to go gambling, I strongly advise against it.

The hostel was comfortable and well-maintained. They fed us a dinner of iceberg lettuce salad, a cooked mix of peas and pumpkin, meat stew and white rice. What was slightly frustrating was that they distributed it lunch-room style, limiting the amount you received, short changing the vegetarians. This would prove to be a developing trend throughout the meals served at the hostel.

Finding little else to do but retire to our rooms, Crystal Rebecca and I started to watch Laurel Canyon before our roommates, Meredith and Richelle made their way to their beds. Getting roughly half through, we turned it out early and slept until morning.

A breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast was scheduled for 9 and the fact that I received my food at 9:50 speaks largely of their disorganization and inefficiency – setting the tone for the morning. I was repeatedly cut in line by the more obnoxious, oblivious members of my group and didn’t have the initiative to speak up for myself. That, along with the driver’s inability to drive us anywhere other than the specific locations without getting permission from his base therefore potentially leaving those interested in hiking without a means of getting to a trail, found me one cranky girl.

Finally, amidst exasperation and frustration, Thelma Pinto (one of the professors on the trip) Rebecca and I left the hostel to distress and take a walk. Headed first in the wrong direction (towards the residential settlement) and then in another wrong direction (larger private properties) we finally stumbled (rather unknowingly) upon the entrance to the Tsitskama Nature Reserve and the start of a 22 kilometer (about 12 mile) hike “along” Storms River, to the Indian Ocean coast.

Before entering I must make mention of the creature-friend I found creeping across the road! Another chameleon, this one slightly bigger and with a much more curl-prone tail, he was albeit a bit confused why he was taken up with such enthusiasm and was, roughly 40 minutes later, replaced on an appropriate looking tree branch. My excitement will never cease over the discovery of chameleons as part of a natural outdoor environment. I love the little guys!



becca and the cham



So without knowing what to expect as the start of the trail was level, shaded and comfortable, Thelma Rebecca and I merrily chatted away, enjoying the head-clearing medicine of the great outdoors. While others in the group chose to shell out 580 R (roughly $100) to go bungee jumping off the highest bungee jumping bridge (roughly 30 meters – about 90 feet – about 9 stories I think) or ride zip lines through the tree tops of the forest, we were enjoying our soul-cleansing walk through the forest.





Little did we know the trail would take a turn for the tougher as it started ascending from the valley into the mountains and we lost the thick canopy of trees providing us with protection from the increasingly hot sun. Reaching two girls from our group who had rented mountain bikes, they assured us the lookout was a mere half an hour’s walk from them and that it was well worth it. After taking a wrong turn (resulting in an additional kilometer on our walk and a newly instilled fear of abnormally (perhaps radioactively!) large locusts)) we re-found our trail and marched on.

Let me briefly elaborate on the insect phenomenon we discovered on our walk. Now normally I can handle insects (of the non-winged variety) with a fairly level head, but there were varieties of grasshopper/locust that I will do well with never ever seeing again. One breed was twice the size of your average brown or green hopper, but with a yellow and brown striped back body, bright green and blue wings/torso and a huge antennaed head. We had apparently wandered in during their mating season because we would stumble on colonies (literally sometimes 50 – 100 per square feet) mating and hopping and buzzing and boinging.



Now those were bad but slightly intriguing because of their interesting colors. The next insect will surely (and hopefully only) be in my nightmares – weighing in at a lengthy 6 – 8 inches long were terrifyingly huge locusts (oversized, malicious looking grasshoppers) with the capacity to fly on distances of 20 – 30 feet at a time, and a wing span of at least 6 inches. With heads the size of a large marble these were some horrifying creatures and I wish not to run into one again.



Also on our trip did we discover the so-called dung beetle. Perhaps the wrong name, but it was an oval, dark brown/light brown alternatingly striped bug about 3 inches long and an inch across found frequently waddling along the side of the path.

We trekked through a plantation of pine trees (in replace of where used to be indigenous forest) we finally emerged at the head of the mountain plateau at the overlook. A refreshingly beautiful sight, it was simultaneously a disappointment when, as we spotted a restaurant and road below, we found no path from where we were to where the restaurant was. Not expecting to hike as far or it to be as tough as it was; only Becca and I brought water and none of us had any food on us.



Granted the walk back was quicker, Thelma and I were not in any sort of robust 25 km hike condition and were running on empty was we embarked on our last 7 k of the hike. Realizing it was a steady incline for the last 5 k – I put my head down and willed my calves to walk on. Every time we’d rest I’d wonder if I could motivate my legs to carry me again, but it was a proud moment when we finally came through the gate a full 6 ½ hours after starting our walk that morning.

Right before the end came, we found a forest creature in a peculiar state. A tiny chameleon no bigger than an inch was dead on the path completely white except for his limbs which were black. It was sad and weird but I didn’t have the patience to ponder it for too long.

Arriving at the small (1/4 mile) stretch of commercial establishments, my body told me it wanted sugers and salts. I got an ice cream, peanuts and then had tea and scones with my hiking companions at a really nice little café. Particularly amazed I hadn’t given up and really proud of myself for having made the entire way without much complaint at all I started to realize I would be paying for my cleansing hike later that night as I felt my calves already starting to knot up.

We arrived home and I stretched out on my bed simply resting my body until the showered freed up (I’d worn my walking sandals and my feet were disgustingly dirty and odorous). Showered and rested, we finished Laurel Canyon, chatted for a long while about the idle things in life (and the prospect of my being in Geneva next year…) and drifted off to sleep.

Awaking the next morning for a breakfast of yogurt, musili (granola) and banana we packed up and left the Tube ‘N’ Axe Backpackers and headed to Plettenburg Bay to have one of the girls see a doctor about a spill she’d taken off her mountain bike the day before.

I hopped on at the internet café, and poked around the town a bit picking up snacks for the rest of the (estimated 5 hour) drive up to the Moodie’s farm outside of Heideveld. A developing phenomenon seems to be the prevalence of used bookstores coicidentally named the Book Nook as I've found a second one amidst my journeys!



It was a long drive with a nice lunch in Knysna right on the water, arriving at the Honeywood Farm at 7 pm.



Dispersing to our cottages we reconvened for a Cape Malay-inspired dinner of what appeared to be a shepard’s pie-like dish with rice and tomatoes and onions on the side. Finished off with a honey cake and pears, with vanilla custard we were well fed and returned to the slide room for a presentation of the surrounding natural wildlife by a resident park ranger. Showing some beautiful scenic photographs with the instrumental accompaniment of Jethro Tull, we were all impressed with the interesting features of the environment around us, looking forward to exploring in more thoroughly.

John you’ll he was what I would refer to as a “photography snob” because when someone asked what sort of camera he used he replied, “It doesn’t matter, it’s the photographer who matters, I can take good pictures with any camera”…. Don’t ever get like that.

We came back to our cottage (Jack’s House) and I'm snuggled under two comforters and looking forward to tonite’s sleep – the air is cold quite and clean and tomorrow promises to be interesting – I'm staving off the impending illnesses spreading throughout our group – a simple cold (coughing, nose issues, and a sore throat) and a stomach virus. It doesn’t help matters that because of the natural mineral runoff all the taps run with brown colored water. Despite the fabled antioxidant value it will prove to be a difficult task washing with and drinking this so-called colored water. Wish me luck.