where art collides philosoperontap

Le grand jour est arrivé as they say in some parts of the world. Not South Africa particularly although I did overhear some French tourists the other night in Hermanus. Arrivé however it has. 

Meeting Hannah for breakfast at seven thirty but I was up before six and getting sorted. Now just pottering, scribbling. I see through my bedroom window that someone is sat outside their room, taking in the early morning I guess. I hear no sounds, no monkey screeches or exotic avian vocals.  Just the loud fan in the bathroom.

The monkeys will come tonight, swinging from branch to branch as they eye up yet another lot of wildlife tourists. Trespassers in their domain. They should know that I know all the words to the King of the Swingers song from the Jungle Book movie 🙂

We have a two and a half hor flight from CPT to HDS and are being met by a driver from the Motswari Lodge. I’m expecting the hour’s drive to the lodge to be quite an experience in itself. It isn’t often I get excited about travel. I’ve been to lots of places and seen lots of interesting things. Drank in cool bars and eaten in some great restaurants. Never been on safari.

Last night’s restaurant, the Codfather in Camps Bay is a case in point. Recommended by @Andy it really came up with the goods. Great sashimi, although I’ve probably already had better wasabi on this trip and the langoustines were probably the best I’ve had.

As an aside the internet access is almost non-existent in this hotel. 100Kbps down and 1.95Megs up. No idea what we will have in the bush so it may be a while before I post again.

Ciao amigos.

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Hannah and I are sat in an emergency exit row. The extra legroom works. We have the binocs out of my carryon but at thirty eight thousand feet ain’t going to see much. I figured we might catch the occasional giraffe galloping across the plains but even giraffes are not that tall.

This flight takes across most off the length of South Africa and far to the north. The temperature inland is significantly higher than that in Cape Town. Our taxi driver was wearing a padded coat which was an amusing contrast with out own shorts and tshirts.

There is booze on offer on this flight. You have to be a bit hard core to go for any of it. We have a wilderness to explore when we arrive at the Timbavati reserve. Most of the passengers on this flight are at least as old as I am and they don’t appear to be holding back on the plonk.

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Below us the expanse of the African interior looks empty. This is probably deceptive. No signs of human habitation though. Just evidence of watercourses meandering, presumably, through valleys that would be otherwise invisible from the two dimensional perspective of thirty eight thousand feet.

Our flight is full of European looking people. Four Chinese. Pretty much everyone on their way to a game reserve I imagine. After my sparking water and beef pastrami sandwich I took the opportunity to use the forward lavatory. Smallest one you could ever be in. I discovered that I was still a contortionist at heart. I never knew.

Now the queuing has started. Those who live by the wine… It always gives me great pleasure to get the timing right on a visit to the loo on a plane, especially on a long haul overnighter. Get that timing wrong and you will be waiting ages. Get it right and you can smugly watch from your seat whilst consuming the barely edible airline breakfast.

Quite a few blokes wearing their safari kecks with removable trouser leg bottoms. I have a pair like that but will put them on before heading bushwards.

We are so far removed from the early European settlers in this place.

Effin loud insect noises squeaking all night. Then I tried switching off the bathroom light, left on for easier navigation for any overnight visits, and suddenly the noise stopped. So unsure whether the noise was an insect or a fan but I can’t see a fan in there. There is a similar noise coming from the front of the guest house – my room opens to a small terrace on the ground floor. I have my own fountain!

Hermanus is a lovely little seaside resort but lacks whales at this time of year because they have moved on. Interesting that such large mammals use the whole expanse of the oceans for their living space.

Today we head back to CPT to drop off the car having deposited our luggage at the guest house in Camps Bay en route. Between now and then lies a pleasant coastal drive with the occasional stop to see the sights and gaze at the wonder of nature. Tis another beautiful sunny day.

Took my first anti malaria pill last night before heading out.

Up early and crept out onto the balcony so as not to wake Hannah. It’s going to be a shock to the system when we get home, having to revert to a normal daily routine. Someone is setting up the loungers around our pool. Probs should get a dip in before we go. Moving on today. Franschhoek has been lovely. 

I recall on my first visit to San Jose in CA I was sitting around the pool chatting to the pool attendant who asked me where I was from. “UK” I say. “Is that near London?” Was his response. I won’t insult the guy setting up below my balcony by asking him  if he knows where the UK is 🙂

The pool guy here has a tried and tested system for setting up. First he puts on the padded lounger covers. Then each lounger gets a towel which he systematically lays out, folds and rolls up neatly to be positioned tidily in place.

His final act has been to switch on the water jets that create nice ripples on the surface of the water, picking up the odd stray leaf on the way and disposing it tidily behind a bush.

Hermanus will bring sea air but no whales as it is not the right time of year. I daresay if we went out on a boat they could find some interesting marine life to look at but suspect we won’t have enough time for that.

Our journey to Hermanus is going to take longer than it should as the Franschhoek pass that climbs high above the hotel is closed for repair work during the working day. Not only will our route be less scenic but it will add anything between thirty and sixty minutes to the journey time. Problems problems.

Hermanus is the one place, apart from last night in Franschhoek, where we have no specific dinner plans. I’m at the point where a doner kebab will do. The local Greek restaurant in the village was closed last night. At least the kitchen was. The place had a nice enough bar but there were people smoking ciggies in the room which didn’t really make for a pleasant environment.

We are officially into our second week in Africa. Fly home a week today. The main event, the herds of rampaging wildebeest etc has yet to happen and to some extent our one night in Hermanus and then Camps Bay are just fillers, albe they very nice and part of a must see itinerary around the Cape of Good Hope.

It’s a great name, Cape of Good Hope. Presumably describes how seafarers felt when rounding the land mass hundreds of years ago. I almost feel like bursting spontaneously into joyous sea shanties when I think of it.

Gotta go – showertime.

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Saw a huge baboon crossing the lawn in front of where we were sat for breakfast. Hannah had leaked along right next to it totally oblivious to its presence. Didn’t get the camera out quickly enough to catch a pic.

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So we have moved on from the wine country and are now ensconced in Hermanus. The Hermanus Boutique Guest House is around fifteen minutes walk from the main drag but there seems to be a v cool bar called Ficks on the beach opposite innit. I think we can start there and may not even get any further. 

Checked in with  THG who has just got home from visiting family. The weather has been terrible apaz. It has been universally lovely here.

I’m gonna dig out my binocs to take to the bar. Not much hope of seeing a whale but ya never know.

We are two days away from heading to the bush and today we will be taking out first malaria pill.

As dawn came this morning I lay in bed listening to a choir of birds. The birdsong here is very different to home. Very exotic. In some respects I am finding it hard to get my brain around the fact that we are here, at the southern tip of the enormous landmass that is Africa.

The other difficult bit is reconciling the fact that our luxurious accommodation contrasts markedly with the wilderness out there. Ok ok we are actually in the wine country not the bush but my imagination runs wild. 

The luxury bit is relatively new. My cousin William would not have seen anything like it when he landed in Cape Town in 1832. His final destination, Grahams Town, or Makhanda as it is known these days, was a long nine hundred kilometres further to the east. What a journey that would have been in 1832. Would they have had horses? I supposed there must have been a Graham.

Sat now on our balcony I can hear someone sweeping a path. He is somewhere behind the hedge that surrounds and brings privacy to the pool. The pool has four jets of water that cause ripples on the surface providing a very relaxing background noise. Elsewhere I can hear what must be a tractor busy doing tractory things somewhere on the vineyard.

Here we have views right across the valley. Franschhoek was originally founded by Hugenots fleeing religious persecution in France. Hence the name. I imagine there would have been local Africans already living here but in those days little regard was given to such facts. 

During William’s time in Grahams Town there were “native” uprisings of twenty thousand men against a hundred European soldiers.

There is a Hugenot museum in the village which we might visit this morning. It’s one of those dilemmas. We’ve come all this way so we should see as much of the place as makes sense but on the other hand the surroundings of our hotel are so pleasant it is difficult to not want to spend all out time here.

The village itself is very pretty. En route to the hotel we stopped at the weekly market yesterday and I bought my first tshirt of the trip. Hannah also picked up a few bits and bobs. We will also likely eat there this evening, after an afternoon of wine tasting. When in Rome…

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Order of play based on discussions:

La Petite Ferme

Rickety Bridge

La Motte

Haute Cabriere

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Africa, a continent where only the coast is mapped. At least that was the case in the nineteenth century which doesn’t seem so long ago in the great scheme of things. Dr Livingstone died on 1 May, 1873 at Chief Chitambo’s Village near Lake Bangweulu, Zimbabwe today. Malaria and dysentery did for him. He must have forgotten to pick up some anti malaria pills before setting off. I bought a pack of thirty six for seventy odd quid. Expensivo but enough to keep the lurgi at bay for both me and Hannah whilst we are deep in the bush. Quite literally the cost of living.

I expect to avoid dysentery by drinking bottled water with an occasional sundowner to ward off anything else that might come our way.

We won’t be going anywhere near Lake Bangweulu although it would have been nice to see the place. There is a river that flows near our game lodge so I expect we will pop down there to look at the crocs and hippos that must surely abound. From a safe distance obvs. The camera zoom lens will serve us well.

I’m in two minds about the crocs. Do I really want to see one leaping out of the water and grabbing a gazelle, dragging it under and finishing it off with a death roll. It is the reality of life in the bush. Crocs have to survive as do gazelles. We have to desensitise ourselves to reality in the wilderness. 

If we catch a lion bringing down a zebra then we should consider ourselves lucky. A herd of elephants will undoubtedly be walking on by watched by a leopard from his branch on a nearby tree. The water buffalo will be restless and should be avoided. Rhino and giraffe will continue with their business.

In the evenings we will gather around the fire listening to stories of the wild. Tales of yesteryear. Exploration and high adventure, sweat pouring down the back of our necks and  through our clothing like rivers turned on by the intense heat of the African summer. The lethal, killer heat of relentless sun.

We are fortunate to have the airstrip next to the lodge that can fly us in and then return us to what is often referred to as civilisation although I’m not so sure that is a correct application of the term nowadays. As we land at that remote airstrip I expect the theme tune to Daktari will be playing and the roar of the jungle will grow increasingly loud.

The landrover that is waiting will drive the short distance to the lodge where we can freshen up and prepare for our first game drive. Our first sortie into the jungle where darkness will soon fall and we will become totally dependent on the knowledge of our local guides for survival.

The long haul jetliner that brought us here and will eventually take us home seems like a time lock, a capsule that is entered and removes you to a bygone age. If you let it, and why not. Yanow life would be dull if we can’t dream. The other night I dreamt I’d bought a double decker bus and was having problems with the handbrake but that is in a different story.

We are not yet at that stage of our adventure. For the moment we remain in the wine country preparing ourselves mentally for the tasting afternoon ahead.

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Interesting. As I finished writing this bit and was trying to post this we had a power outage. It’s back on but the router is taking time to reset 🙂

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Darkness is slowly descending on Franschhoek. Hannah and I are picnicing on our balcony, exterior light on. We have had a good day of wine tasting. Three wineries, one of which, Boschendal, stood out from the others. We went for the premium selection, something not on offer at the others.

It has cooled a little on our balcony so I have donned my safari jacket. It looks the part, in my mind although it may only be in my mind. We shall have an early night.

I am given to understand that today is Sunday. The Queen Vic Hotel has served us well but it is time to move on. On this day we relocate our centre of operations to Franschhoek and the wine country. 

Met a refugee called Jean Terry from the DRC last night. He has been here twenty years and works as a barman in a Waterfront restaurant. Had a nice chat with him.  While we were chatting his seventy two year old mum called him on WhatsApp to tell him his auntie living in Joburg had just died. V sad. It visibly affected him and he understandably cut his evening short.  He Ubered it home.

The Scottish Bar ended up not being a particular rugby venue although the game  was on all the screens and a few rugby watchers did turn up. They were mostly normal tourist punters though and the rugby commentary was replaced by a DJ thumping out his playlist. 

After the game, which we lost in the end by one point despite having scored more tries, Hannah and I strolled to the harbour’s edge and then turned for home. Another long day in the bag.

Today we have to pop in to the DHL office to send a bag on to our Joburg hotel before we set off for La Petite Ferme where we will be staying two nights. More in due course, I daresay.

A good final day in Cape Town. Retail in the morning in which advantage was taken of the lower prices here in the Cape compared with home. Don’t particularly do retail.

It must be Chinese new year as the Waterfront was being themed appropriately. We should be in the heart of the action tonight having booked a table in Mitchell’s Scottish Bar for the rugby. The enemy camp 🙂It’s a good job we booked as the Waterfront is rammed.

Chilled by the pool for a bit after an extremely long lunch with Andrew Owens and his daughter Sadie. Another hot day so no rush. I had ribs. There were two size choices so I asked our waiter Prince what the difference was. He said the small one was only small so I went for the big one, natch. Never seen so many ribs and they were huge. Couldn’t finish them all which was a bit embarrassing considering the poverty in these parts. We took a doggy bag which Andrew was going to donate to a suitable candidate.

All ye who enter the Cape of Good Hope abandon all hope of a mobile data connection. The Cape is a wild and desolate place with a tollbooth at its entrance and a good tarmac road all the way to the Point. Looking down on the wild Atlantic you could imagine early explorers making their way around to the East and the riches of the distant and exotic Orient.

We snacked and rehydrated at the cafe and bought some souvenirs, the first of the trip as we were unsure as to luggage weight on next week’s flight back from the game reserve. Our concierge Llewellyn Lewis (yes) had earlier ascertained that we could use the DHL office nearby to post a bag to our Joburg Hotel for collection after the trip into the bush. We have no weight issues on the long haul flight home.

The day has been full of thrills. We picked up our hire car at ten ish, bypassing the long queue due to our Avis Preferred membership, and were also upgraded to an SUV. Superdooper. Some sort of Hyundai, fwiw. Hyundai Venue I’m told. Took me most of the day to get used to the indicator being on the right. People must have thought it odd that my windscreen wipers came on every time we hit a junction.

First stop was Boulders Beach and the penguins. They were great. V cute. We sat in the caff looking out of the big open picture window and took in the scene. Then down to the beach for a dip. I just paddled but Han took full advantage of the lovely little bay and swam around for a bit. I’m not v good in the sun really and certainly wouldn’t have been particularly comfortable after a salt water bath.

We continued to Cape Point and passed many reminders that baboons were wild animals and should not be fed. We looked hard for them and had given up when, on our way home the traffic was stopped by two lots of mothers and babies, one in the middle of the road and one sat on a fence post, or stone or summat. Result.

Then back in Cape Town I have to say I was quite impressive negotiating the traffic. Just as we were turning right into the hotel complex a convoy of black security cars turned in just before us. I said “I bet they are going to our hotel – must be something kicking off”. It was Dricus du Plessis who you will know as the world middleweight UFC (kick boxing) champion. You couldn’t make it up.

Sat now in the bar near him and his entourage. The funny thing is how much security he has brought with him. You’d a thought he could take care of himself 🙂

All in all a highly successful day in Africa. Next up, dinner at Gold, a must do disher out of local nosh.

PS I find my life to continue to be surreal

Sat in bed tapping away. Could sit outside on the balcony but it’s cosy enough here. Had a good nights kip after our first day in Africa. We were tired from the journey and hit the hay at a sensible time. Not jet lag.

The only downside to the two hour time difference between here and home is that the Liverpool Chelski game didn’t kick off until ten fifteen pee em local time so I missed it. Sounds like it was a good game. Certainly a great result for the reds, again.

We have an action packed day ahead of us with a ride up the cable car to the top of Table Mountain this morning and a trip to Robben Island this afternoon. Robben Island is a four hour excursion so quite a longun. It’s a must do visit though.

Yesterday we spent the afternoon at the Waterfront which is where the hotel is. It’s a v convenient spot located in a collection of buildings that include the old Harbourmaster’s House. They still have the ball signal on the roof that told ships whether the tide was in or out. Doubt the tide makes any difference these days.

I’ve looked for a map that depicts Cape Town in 1832 to see where my cousin William Davies would have landed but no immediate luck online. There is a museum somewhere and will see if they have anything. It would have certainly been a lot smaller in those days. Tiny.

Took in a visit to the diamond museum which was fascinating. The whole tour was a build up to try and sell you diamonds but we were ok with that as it was v informative. You got to hold rings worth hundreds of thousands of pounds. Our guide Nadia  told us that roughly thirty percent of punters taking the tour ended up buying a diamond. I didn’t buy one 🙂

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Table Mountain was special. Stunning actually. The views were such that you could just sit up there all day looking. The city of Cape Town was 3,500 feet below us. Same height as Y Wyddfa in Eryri.

The slightly disturbing news is that they reckon Table Mountain will have eroded away, in ten million years time. Maybe someone got their sums wrong 🙂

Looking down on Cape Town it was easy to picture William Davies’ boat arriving in 1932. The city was a lot smaller then, obvs and the shore much nearer the mountain. Much land reclamation has been undertaken since, apaz. You can imagine their excitement after taking a whole year to get there. The other amazing thing to consider is that the Davies had a long journey to Grahamstown to make after arriving. It’s maybe five or six hours by car on modern roads. Weeks worth of walking for them in 1832. Maybe they had horses. Cape Town really was a gateway to Africa in those days. A daunting prospect with the unknown vastness of the interior before them.

The other thing to consider is the vast cultural difference the Davieses had to overcome.

The Queen Mary 2 is still in town. End point of a Southampton to Cape Town cruise. Fifteen out of twenty one days at sea wtf?!

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The excursion to Robben Island was very thought provoking.

African Adventure

In January 1832 the Reverend William Davies with his wife Sarah and young two year old son set off from Deptford on the Barque Eclipse, destination Cape Town. William was a self funded Baptist missionary, responding to a plea from the first wave of settlers for ministers of religion.

The Eclipse foundered in a storm in the Cap Verde Islands.  The child drowned and Sarah gave birth to twins on the beach, one of which died. I have an eyewitness account of the shipwreck!!  It took two months for the Davieses to be rescued and they returned to London whereupon they set out again reaching Cape Town in December that year.

William was my cousin, nephew of my 4G grandfather Daniel Davies and was one of the first Baptist missionaries to venture forth in Africa. Lurgi abounded and he only lived a few years after he got there but I have extracts of his letters home to the Baptist Magazine describing their lot. His wife predeceased him but they had a number of children who survived, one of whom married a famous South African pioneer whose name escapes me but who became the subject of a play in the modern era.

Things are very different in 2024. Hannah and I have a very comfortable overnight flight from London landing in Cape Town just under twelve hours later. There is only a two hour time zone difference so we anticipate being able to hit the ground running. A driver is meeting us off the plane and we plan to spend our first day exploring the Waterfront around the hotel.

What a difference. Twelve hours drinking champagne and sleeping in a comfortable ish bed (well at least it will be horizontal) versus twelve months of seasickness, shipwreck, peril and poor food. At least with a journey time of twelve months they would definitely not have noticed the time zone change 🙂

This is the last in the cycle of dad and lad trips in which I take one offspring on a journey of exploration and discovery. Just me and them. On this occasion it isn’t a dad and lad trip but dad and daughter. 

William Davies settled in Grahamstown but unfortunately we won’t have time to visit there as it is too far to the east. We plan to spend most of our time in Cape Town, the wineries and part of the Garden Route before heading north to the bush and adventure. I bring with me anti-malaria tablets and three different kinds of insect repellent including the trusty Avon Skin So Soft.

I expect to bring home lots of photos and videos. I have approx 160GB of SD card capacity for the camera and a long zoom lens. Also binocs.

A car is picking us up from the Park Lane Hilton at 3pm to take us to the airport. In the meantime I am sat in my suite on the 24th floor looking out over Hyde Park. Joggers and cyclists abound as do the long queues of traffic on Park Lane. Who’d want to be a commuter driving into London?! Our Tom is meeting me for brekkie at oh eight thirty.

My plan at some point today was to spend some time in the Tate Modern but I may well just chill in the hotel. The suite is great as is the exec lounge.

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Spent some time sat in reception after arranging a 3pm checkout. It’s quite nice watching the world go by. Lots of accents to be heard around me. Many Americuns as you might imagine. 

Then on my way down to the lounge from my room there was an old couple in the lift. He had thinning hair and reached into his back pocket for a comb to tidy up the front a bit. I didn’t notice any difference 🙂

Another, younger guy was smartly suited and smelled of aftershave. I am wearing my safari jacket which I noted was clocked by the besuited younger guy. Unlikely he thought I looked particularly cool. That will lose me sleep!  Mind you the jacket is not something I normally wear other than when on safari. In fact I’ve only just bought it. It is fleece lined and is serving as a jumper when in the UK. Versatility is its middle name. Safari Versatility Jacket.

My lift companions were all resident on the 24th floor – expensivo . Now I’m sat in the window of the lounge looking out at Park Lane. There is coffee, there are croissants and the world continues to go by. I note that there is a huge pile of rubbish bags in the central reservation of Park Lane. V unsightly. It is a v dull day in London Town.

A member of staff is making her way around the lounge with a cordless vacuum cleaner strapped to her back. Very compact and tidy. The lounge has gradually emptied.

Behind me there is a meeting going on with someone from Hilton and a marketing agency. The Hilton guy has chosen them to do some work and is talking non stop. On the other side of the lounge a woman has been sat quietly on her own. She has a book on the table in front of her and is doing something with her phone. She has been smiling.

All the things you see when you have time on your hands. Can’t be bothered to do any work. The Hilton marketing guy is getting a bit boring. It’s been quite a one way conversation. Lots of corporate speak. I’m sorry I’ve sat where I’m sat but it does give me a good perspective on Park Lane.

Just realised the pile of rubbish is actually a bunch of tents crowded together. No sign of any movement. Life is not very equal is it? The most expensive property on the Monopoly board occupied by the poorest people. Makes you pause to think.

A few years ago THG and I were en route to the Intercontinental on Hyde Park for a weekend jaunt. Our journey down coincided with the migration of one million members of various unions to a rally in Hyde Park to protest about some government policy or other. Pay freezes I suspect.

A couple of observations sprang to mind. Firstly quite a few of the protesters against pay freezes had first class tickets. Don’t blame em. Secondly we thought it was v surreal that the room in our five star luxury hotel looked out over the park where the protesters were congregating. Let them eat cake.

It was quite similar when we went down for the protest against Brexshit. We were staying in the Trafalgar Hotel. It took us hours to walk the mile or two from Hyde Park to Trafalgar Square at which point we decided it made more sense to retreat to the hotel’s rooftop bar and drink cold beer and cocktails. There was no way we could get anywhere near where the speeches were in Westminster anyway.

This trip has been a year in the planning. Somewhat surreal (I find myself using this word more and more) that the day of departure is finally here. T0 and no longer counting. Just waiting. Two and a half hours until Han arrives and we head to LGW. 

Trying to imagine what William and Sarah Davies went through in their planning and preparations for their trip. A massive upheaval for them but supported by a high degree of religious commitment. A knowledge that they were doing the right thing.

I have the Last Will and Testament of William’s dad David Davies. He was the Rector (or curate – this is not clear as yet) of the established Church in Llandysul. His eldest son, John Phillip had effectively been written out of the will and most of the dosh left to William. At the time of the writing of the will JP had become a Baptist and established himself as a renowned speaker on the circuit in Wales. The father was not to know that William would follow in JP’s dissenting footsteps. David’s two brothers would also leave the church, one (my 4G Grandfather Daniel) as a Baptist and the other a Unitarian.

I haven’t got any further back in my family tree research than Daniel but I sense that the fact that David was an Anglican minister must mean there is more info in an archive somewhere. All three brothers must have had some sort of education. Their area in West Wales was the centre of the religious revival of the time. Carmarthenshire, Cardiganshire and Pembrokeshire.

There were lots of variations on Christianity, or at least the interpretation of the whole subject. Did Jesus die just to save those who believed in him or the whole of mankind. As a non believer I’d go for the latter but my vote probs doesn’t count. It seems daft that these differences were enough to divide people. Suspect they didn’t go as far as a punchup 🙂

The marketing meeting has broken up. They all have calls to make 🙂Unfortunately the Hilton guy looks as if he is going to make the call from where he is sat in the lounge. Another one way conversation. At least his voice is not too loud or irritating. Talking about the Conrad in Cairo and then the one in Istanbul, as you do.

I’ve moved back to my room which is a calm haven looking out onto the park. Banging out a bit of ABBA. Reasonably good speakers on the macbook pro fair play. Han is about to arrive, an hour earlier than plan. I think this’ll do for the day. I’m now moving into adventure mode.

Ngibambe kamuva.