Showing posts with label George. Show all posts
Showing posts with label George. Show all posts

Tuesday, 11 January 2022

George: Beach the sheep

Uber not about

For our second day in George, we were unsure of what to do apart from being able to get anywhere from our hotel which in its somewhat bucolic setting backing onto a golf course is hardly in the centre of town as the indicator from my hotel booking suggested.

We were excited about going to Victoria Bay Beach and then the Map of Africa viewpoint and as we were informed that Uber had reached George, we presumed the ease of getting about to a fault for even when we tried for an Uber there was no indication that cars that were about 12 minutes away would ever become available for our use.

In the end, we got the hotel reception to call us a taxicab and the driver that doubled as a tour guide availed us of his services for every place we chose to visit. The weather had taken a turn for the worse by the time we left the hotel that we arrived at Victoria Bay Beach with no enthusiasm to get into the water or relax on the beach.

More hype than type

Victoria Bay Beach is essentially a private beach with a security checkpoint and chalets held in families from long ago lined down the beach mostly up for rented accommodation or short stays than as homes. Much as there is a public right of access, there is nothing special about the place and even if we chose to stay there, after two nights with its isolated setting, we’ll probably seek the greater security of proximity to civilisation. If you are a surfer, you might find this place a treat indeed.

Our cab driver then took us to the Map of Africa viewpoint in the aptly named Wilderness, down a long nondescript dirt road to where the confluence of rivers appeared to map out from our observation point the depiction of Southern Africa, it was a hard-sell to suggest this was the map of Africa even at the most extreme stretch of the imagination. I could not find online any aerial view of this to confirm that Africa was mapped out on that terrain. How anyone has for any time gotten away with that scam escapes me, but we now know better.

Sheep may safely graze

Further up the road from this viewpoint was a paragliding site but the white horses (white foamy sea waves) ridden by high winds meant there was no paragliding activity. A sign on the field however caught my attention, “Please Do Not! Chase or Hassle the Sheep.”

We saw no sheep, but that was my highlight of the day as I was left wondering, how do you hassle sheep? Yet, when I think of it as I suggested in my Instagram post on the matter, sheep are intelligent, and for one, Shaun the Sheep is nobody’s fool.

Returning to our hotel, we decided to go for a wander to get a feel of George only to find out that there were no pavements on certain roads suggesting the town is best suited for vehicles. New developments on our way back had roads named after English golf courses. We would return and hire a car to get around. Dinner with Malaka at a restaurant closed an evening of pleasant and warm friendship.

George: Feathers to the caves

George on our minds

If our trip to George had not been made so rewarding and exciting by our friend Malaka Grant, we might well have been totally unaware of why we were there as this was one trip, we did no research on before travelling. We were keen to see Malaka and she had offered to show us around.

To clear one misconception, the Garden Route is not about gardens or stately homes as one would think if visiting from the United Kingdom, and whilst George is the capital city of that region, the things to do, see, experience are miles away from George, except if you want to go trekking the Outeniqua Mountain range. The Garden Route is essentially a wine route with historically significant monuments, natural features, a cultural heritage, and activities tagged on.

George of a time

According to a cab driver that doubled as our guide George saw modern development when P. W. Botha the penultimate State President of South Africa who represented George in parliament decided a local airport was essential as the roads were poor. He died in Wilderness, near George.

However, for our first full day, we visited the Ostrich Emporium at Oudtshoorn which had a heyday as the ostrich capital of the world at the end of the 19th Century and early in the 20th Century before the advent of cars and the world wars led to decline of the industry especially when flamboyant ladies ostrich feather hats could no more be accommodated in covered automobiles.

The highly successful merchants in the trade built feather palaces on the main street of Oudtshoorn but most departed as the trade declined and South Africa aligned itself to right-wing policies.

Caves to behold

On from Oudtshoorn, we drove another 30 kilometres to the foothills of Swartberg mountains where the world heritage site of the Cango Caves presented a spectacle of natural wonder impossible to describe in full as the breath-taking awesomeness left us astonished at what we beheld.

Limestone formations of speleothems crafted over thousands to millions of years discovered and made accessible that the tour guide’s introduction to each chamber happened in the semi-dark until the lights were switched on to reveal more than the senses could take in of the views exposed. On this visit alone, unexpected and unanticipated as we knew nothing of this place until after breakfast, we could be fully satisfied with this trip.

On our return, a mist had descended on the mountain pass reducing visibility to just about 20 metres, the way the weather changes in the Garden Route around George is one that would make for a good conversation with an Englishman, I was up for it. The day was good.

Wednesday, 5 January 2022

En route to the Garden Route

To George to judge

Completely off the beaten track, at least by our own standard, we have strayed away from the ambit of Cape Town to the furthest we have ever been to George, the centre of the famed Garden Route.

Planning for the trip was a bit fraught as we first thought of driving the 5 or so hours from Cape Town, but that would have been Brian alone at the pedals, the gear stick and the steering wheel as I cannot drive and who is to say with his keen sense of direction we are not first in Johannesburg before we get to George? Not worth the risk.

We decided to fly, and the scheduled 50-minute flight lasted just 33 minutes as there are no speeding fines for flying. Though we noticed something quite distressing at the airport, a child for whatever reason was being told by his burly guardian that he would have his bones broken. We maybe should have done something, yet we hope that would not be the child’s lived reality.

What a time ago

George is everything Cape Town is not, quiet, provincial, bucolic and with a definitive colonial feel. The hotel we are staying at backs onto a golf course with the first floor being the first. As you drive in you drive past chalets all with the customary finish of chalk white paint, the windowpanes and doors finished in green.

The veranda of our room and the adjoining ones is deep with a wooden balustrade defining the balcony with a tar-brown coating, the outdoor furniture patterned in cast or wrought iron and painted white. You could feel caught in a time warp with a throwback to the 1950s or earlier.

Before it was dusk, the frogs were croaking, and you can only wonder what else we’ll hear through the night. There is a busy family atmosphere with kids milling around with abandon, not the kind of place we would have chosen with prior knowledge.

Everyone is different

Our neighbour to the left came out with a glass in hand, one leg in prosthetics and after a greeting, we engaged in conversation. His daughter, nice but acting shy might just be so in the presence of strangers. His wife later came out to take in a chair, her right arm in a long sleeve that looked like it was fully tattooed, I had to ask.

Two verandas to the right, a man stepped out to light up, I do wonder how people have not given up smoking in this pandemic. Anyway, the olfactory glands of you know who had caught a whiff of the smoke long before he had taken a puff. Some people would give canines a beating in a sniff test. I am not close by a mile. We retire to hopefully explore this region tomorrow and the day after.