Strange things in Port St Johns

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Well Arrived in Port St Johns to a hostel called Amapondo. Port St Johns is a place full of old hippies and the pace of life there is slower than a a drunk snail's. It's a really lovely little town with not much going on but is full of character - and characters! It was their holiday weekend when we were there, so lots of festivals and events were going on. I got talking to the owner of the hostel who was I think on his 10th joint of the evening, and he asked if I was a sporty type of person. Wondering how he could have known that I was, I was intrigued so told him I play the odd game of tennis and hop on the mountain bike now and again. In response he then told me there is a 21km bike ride going on as part of the weekend festivities and if I was interested then I should sign up. So went back and mentioned it to the girls - Ally, not the biggest fan of cycling refused point blank when she heard about the size of the hill that we'd have to cycle up. Helen on the other hand, keen to do something that didn't involve walking (she hurt her foot a week or so ago) was pretty keen. So I went back and told them and next morning, we got up ready for our bike ride only to discover that no-one really knew anything about it. Most people were running the race as it was actually a fun run rather than a bike ride. Anyway, we found the guy I'd spoken to the previous night, and he told us that it was on and that we needed to be taken up to this guy's house to start the race. So we hopped in the car and were taken to Don's place - this guy who looked like Father Christmas in a pair of lycra shorts!! He turned out to be such a nice guy and he and about three others do this cycle route thing every year. So we tagged along with them and cycled along passing all the fun runners! Not long in to the ride, we discoved 'The Hill' we'd been warned about. Those that did the London to Brighton Bike Ride this year will know what I'm talking about when I say it was on a scale with Ditchling Hill! I'd made a promise to myself that if I can cyle up Ditchling Hill, then I can cycle up this. Somehow I made it to the top without stopping but thought I was goig to have a heart attack doing it. I think it was on a par with the dreaded Ditchling.

The rest of our time in Port St Johns was not quite as active, but just as bizarre. We decided again that we would try the horse riding, as Sarah (Lubi) had told me it was one of the best things she did here. so booked it up and next morning went to reception, only to be told that one of the horses was in foal and had run off to give birth and that everyone was out looking for the mare, so the ride was off. Unable to believe it had happened again we decided that we were destined not to go horse riding. We were due to leave that day, but on hearing our disappoinment that we coulddn't do the rise, the guy on recpetion told us that he could gurantee we could do it the next day, so we should stay another night. As the hostel was so nice, and they did amazing pizzas too, we decided to stay on, have a pizza and do the ride in the morning. So next day, off we went to reception, to discover that they'd been unable to book us in because they couldn't get hold of the people who run it. So Mike, the hostel guy told us not to worry - we'd go up to the place and just meet them before they left for the ride. So half an hour later sitting in the back of his pickup in the middle of nowhere he stopped to talk to some African guys walking along. It turned out they were part of the horse riding staff, and they told us that we'd missed the ride... But not to worry, we could do a walk to the sea caves, see a witch doctor in one of those mud huts they live in, have a traditional lunch made by a local village lady and then take the horses back along the beach to the hostel. By this time our driver had driven off and so we didn't have much choice, Not realy in the mood to go hiking 10 miles across the hills and the beach to see some sea caves I wasn't too happy, as I just wanted to ride a damn horse!! First we were ushered in to the mud hut to sit with a witch doctor. We were told we had to put money in her pot and then ask her questions! Not really caring to see the witch doctor and having none of us having any idea what to ask we sat there for a few minutes. After a few pointless questions and listening to the guide roughly translate what she was saying we managed to escape. Next was the walk to the amazing sea caves. Before we even started walking the wind had begun to get up so that after about 15 minutes it had risen to gale force. Struggling even to stand up, let alone walk, Helen decided she didn't want to walk in this so headed back. Like and idiot I carried on with Ally and the guide. The wind got steadily worse and byt the time we reached the beach is was so strong it was like being sandblasted on the backs of our legs! We took our shoes and socks off to walk acrtoss the beach and just before the caves were some pretty nasty l;ooking rocks to negotiate. So struggling with our bags and shoes and having trouble standing up we attempted to cross the rocks. Then a huge gust of wind made me lose my footing to I put my foot down to balance and gashed my foot on a really sharp rock. So my foot now quite sore and nicely filling up with sand I wasn't too impressed to see the caves - which were just the same as the things you see on the beach in Cornwall!! We headed back to the village the only thing on my mid was to get back ther and eat some food and sort my foot out. So this time, we got our faces nicely sandblasted and hiked back to the village. We did have a delicious lunch cooked for us but by this time we really weren't in the mood for riding the horses in a gale so decided just to get a ride back to our hostel... So clearly we were not meant to ever go horse riding!

Anyway next day we gave in and decided to move on...

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