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Published: September 30th 2023
Chintsa
The Wild CoastDear All
After a wonderful safari-style experience at the lovely Kudu Ridge Game Lodge and nearby Addo Elephant Park, I bade farewell to the former's very friendly and welcoming owners, and also to a lovely Dutch couple who had just arrived the evening before. While they were driving through Addo and then leaving their rental car at Port Elizabeth Airport to fly to Durban and pick up another rental from there, I was driving this long stretch of the road trip myself. I noted that most people seem to skip this bit out, and had a feeling that this part of my trip would be a bit different - I was not wrong.
After having arrived at Kudu Ridge via a very bumpy, long and pot-holed dirt road, I was taking a sealed route back to the main N2 artery between Cape Town and Durban this time, which was a real treat! Although the distance was further, it was a much faster and smoother drive! I was heading off to my first stop off along this stretch of my journey at the Wild Coast seaside town of Chintsa, stopping off for a break at the university town of Grahamstown
Chintsa
The Wild Coast along the way.
Grahamstown is a sizeable settlement of around 140,000 people, founded in 1812 by an English army chap called John Graham as a means to secure the Cape Colony's eastern frontier against the Xhosa people. It became home not long after to a group of around 4000 British settlers who were encouraged to move from impoverished Britain at the time which was suffering economically after the Napoleonic Wars, who later became known as the 1820 Settlers, and the town grew from there. My first stop in town was just on the outskirts at the 1820 Settlers' Monument, which although rather unremarkable did have a good view at least over Grahamstown below, helping me to get my bearings a bit there. I then headed into town, to take a walk around the famous Rhodes University located there, South Africa's six oldest, parking up in the lovely, leafy campus. The place was seething with university energy, and I enjoyed a toasted cheese sandwich on the grounds watching the youthful student populace go by (and feeling a little old too...!). I felt good energy from them, and can only hope they can move on to make the next generation of
Chintsa
The Wild Coast political leaders post-Mandela much more productive and corruption-free than the current woeful lot. After these last few years back home, I have seen the utmost corruption in my own country's politics and its self-serving so-called leaders. At least UK politicians, mostly inadequate to my mind in the extreme, have the wherewithal to hide their self-serving intentions behind the "for the benefit of the people" facade, whereas South African politicians go about their corrupt business for all to blatantly see. Apparently during the c-word situation, lockdown in the country included the banning of the sale of alcohol and cigarettes, supposedly for some bizarre purpose of "stopping the spread", but it led to some shifty government contracts being made behind the curtains in both the alcohol and tobacco industry. Disgusting, and reminds me of some of the antics of our own delightful politicians. But alas I digress, and I must get back to my travels.
So after a pleasant time in Grahamstown, filling myself with hope and optimism for the next generation of educated people in the country, I hit the road again. I firstly drove through the very chaotic town of Qonce, or King William's Town, and then around endless
Mandela Portrait
Nelson Mandela Museum, Mthatha roadworks around the city of East London. I found this part of the journey tricky to drive along, as although there was a two to three lane motorway there, it never once ran straight but rather curvy and sinuous up and down the rolling hills of the region, with afore-mentioned roadworks everywhere, and crazy, chaotic urban drivers from East London.
I seem to remember reading in my trip preparation somewhere that the Great Fish River, around 35 miles to the east of Grahamstown, marked the actual boundary of European colonial expansion eastward of the Cape, as the settlers increasingly came into conflict with the local Xhosa people indigenous to the area. And sure enough, crossing the bridge over the Great Fish River, the demarcation between European-settled South Africa and Xhosa country became very clear. There were suddenly more people walking along the motorway, along with dogs and goats, a lot more minibuses being used as public transport, and urban settlements of shacks and tin roofs. It seems I had crossed the boundary into Xhosa country, the Eastern Cape proper, formerly and unofficially known as the Republic of Transkei and an African Homeland during Apartheid, the so-called Wild coast. Things
Grahamstown
From the 1820 Settlers' Monument definitely felt wilder and more offbeat from there onwards. As mentioned, negotiating the endless roadworks around East London not long after the Great Fish River, and the very windy motorway while contemplating overtaking lorries, faster cars overtaking me, and the people and the goats on the road, took all my driving concentration. After East London though, which was not a place I would have wanted to visit despite it being named after the city I currently call home, given its notorious South African urban nastiness, the driving became calmer again.
Shortly after East London, I took a turn off the N2, and headed the 15 miles or so towards the beginning of South Africa's Wild Coast, starting right there in my destination for the evening, the lovely town of Chintsa. I checked into an absolutely palatial BnB with a very friendly Christian owner, and had a bit of down time with a cup of tea, admiring the fantastic hilltop vistas from up there over the ocean below. I then drove down to the beach, for a fantastic walk along one of the most gorgeous stretches of beach I've ever seen. It was so wild and rugged, and I could
see where the Wild Coast got its name from. The beach was a huge expanse of white sand, backed by dunes and tree-covered hills, with ocean mist developing as the setting sun started to turn everything orange, and hardly a human footprint in sight. It was amazing! As the sun set, I filled up my tank at a single petrol pump in town, the only one for miles around it seemed, and stopped in at a local deli for a takeaway pizza for dinner. I got talking to the very friendly owner, Andre, and felt quite a connection with him. Like myself, he was a non-churchgoing Christian, and recommended a good Christian website for people like ourselves which I have since checked out and like very much. It was one of those meetings which just felt meant to be, and I felt blessed. It reminded me of the many Christians that I had met thus far in South Africa, and made me mourn at the loss of faith and tradition experienced in my own country. It feels quite frightening how quickly things are changing in the west, and I felt heartened in this country to see such good and steadfast
Grahamstown
Eastern Cape people still existing in the world today. That evening I enjoyed wine, pizza, and a lovely evening in, with my accommodation having its own electricity generator to just say no to the effects of loadshedding there - what a treat!
The next day was mostly a day of driving, which was certainly to be expected on this Road Trip, but I was quite glad at the end of the day to have gotten it done. Not only was it a long seven hours of driving in total, the roads were also terrible and by far the worst I had encountered thus far. By the evening I had crossed into the nextdoor state of KwaZulu-Natal, which seemed so very orderly in comparison, as it was back in the Western Cape. Yessir, I think the Eastern Cape is very much African by road standards, and if I wasn't driving I think I would have enjoyed the change looking out the window and observing. Between the Great Fish River and the Mtamvuna River, the latter being the state boundary heading into KwaZulu-Natal, the place was very much Africa. The rolling green grassy hills were dotted with little villages of circular huts and
conical thatch roofs - a far cry from the swishness and sophistication of the Western Cape. This would have been rather romantic and attractive, were it not for the sorry state of the roads and driving along them - it was not relaxing at all. The road was in poor condition, filled with potholes and numerous, often hidden, speed bumps whose only purpose seemed to be to chip away at a car's suspension system and do people's backs in. Often, the only way of being able to tell that there was a speed bump ahead was simply observing the vehicle in front of you slowing down and bouncing over them. I tried at all times to have someone in front of me, so I didn't need to discover these little beauties for myself. Other hazards included animals everywhere. The cows were sensible and never crossed the road, whereas the sheep, goats and dogs lacked the brain capacity to know that this was highly dangerous. I had to slow or stop numerous times to let them cross, as did other cars, and also avoid the bodies of the ones which had been hit. Then there were the people, who walked along
the road there oblivious to the 80mph traffic speeding past them mere inches away as they texted or chatted on their phones. One time I had to beep a little boy before he ran onto the road in front of me as I was going at speed, though the look both he and his mother gave me did not seem to thank me for probably saving his life. Driving through the towns was particularly hazardous, as not only were all the previous things mentioned magnified there, they were choked up and often gridlocked with traffic, with some vehicles even ignoring red lights! I later realised that since this was a Saturday, and since this is party-day in South Africa, as well as a drinking-and-driving day for an uncomfortable number of people, this most likely exacerbated the situation. In fact, aside from everything else, I think the worst thing had to be the other drivers. Not only did you have to be aware of your own driving, but also that of every single other vehicle around you. The drivers of the Eastern Cape lacked very basic education in road safety and etiquette, overtaking on corners, undertaking, stopping and turning without indicating,
and pulling out right in front of you without even being aware of what a wing or rear view mirror is for. Honestly, it was stressful, and I was very glad to have arrived as mentioned in KwaZulu-Natal, where the roads and drivers were back again to the usual standards I had come thus far to expect in South Africa.
On the way, I did stop off in one place, partly to break up the journey, but also to pay homage to the man who grew up there, the famous Son of the Xhosa, the very Nelson Mandela himself. He was born in an Eastern Cape village called Mvezo, but the nearby regional city of Mthatha is where the Nelson Mandela Museum is located. I enjoyed a very good and informative hour or so there, learning more about the great man himself, and continuing to admire him, along with another hero of mine, FW de Klerk, for having driven South Africa out of the potential civil war that was brewing throughout the 1980s and 1990s. I originally felt pleased to have found a parking space bang in front of the museum entrance, but towards the end of my visit
I heard great revvings of engines outside and a loud clammer of people. It didn't feel too friendly, so I made ready to leave, only to see around fifty or so huge Harley Davidsons parked up and filling the whole street outside, completely surrounding my car!
Their owners were listening to a speaker in front of the museum, and they were evidently there for a visit too, though catching words of the speaker talking about "tearing down statues" did nothing to calm the nerves of my white skin in this very African town. My parked car was indeed hemmed in by these large rowdy types, and I was beginning to feel actually quite worried. I didn't feel comfortable with the biker atmosphere, in the middle of this very African town where I stood out like a sore thumb, and now I couldn't leave the place! One of the bikers I spoke to about it didn't seem interested and warned me not to touch a biker's bike. Fortunately I spoke to some very friendly museum security guards who managed to liaise with some of the bikers to move some of the bikes around. I still wouldn't have been able to
do the necessary 20-point reversing out turn that was needed, worried I would knock one of the bikes over and create a scene. So again very fortunately, one of the security guards took my keys and performed some amazing manoeuvers to get my baby out of there.
When my car was finally free, I nearly hugged the man, I was so relieved. My initial plan was to get some lunch at the nearby shopping mall across the road, with Steers, Nando's and Spurs signs all a-calling, but after this episode I just wanted to leave Mthatha, and to be honest the Eastern Cape. I did have a packed takeaway sandwich from the good man at the Chintsa deli from the evening before to keep me going, so decided to just plough on with my journey and get the heck out of there.
As mentioned, as soon as I crossed the Mtamvuna River into KwaZulu-Natal, the road atmosphere instantly changed before my eyes and I felt back to normality again, breathing a sigh of relief as I went. There were no people walking on the road, no animals, pot-holes or speed bumps, and the street signs and markings were
abundantly clear again once more. As also mentioned, if I wasn't driving through the Eastern Cape myself, I think I would have enjoyed my travels there much more, as I had previously done on so many occasions while allowing others to drive me in similar conditions in numerous other African countries. For now, and as mentioned so many times as it felt so good, I was really glad to be there in this new, more developed state, and was really looking forward very much to my travels and further explorations there.
That evening I checked into a cosy cottage-style BnB in the coastal town of Port Edward marking the boundary between the Wild Coast to the west, and the much more developed coast of KwaZulu-Natal and the Durban suburbs to the east. The cottage was attached to the house of a friendly lady on large grassy grounds filled with all manner of animal-life including dogs, ducks, geese, and I was told some peacocks, with views just about over the Indian Ocean below. I did have a bit of time before checking in to check out the coastline below, but as the evening was coming in thick and fast, this
My Accommodation
Chintsa, The Wild Coast was just a quick glance, and I put aside my explorations of KwaZulu-Natal until the next day.
And of course, more on that in my next one. Until then, thanks for reading, and all the very best for now!
Alex
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D MJ Binkley
Dave and Merry Jo Binkley
The Wild Coast
So much beauty! Stunning photo.