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Published: January 29th 2018
On of the things on my SA bucket list was and is something called the Bavianskloof, Baboon valley, one of the SA epitomes and must do and what not.
So of course I wanted to do it, after a hearty breakfast at my humble abode I threw my long right leg over the saddle and set forth towards this most famous of places.
Did I call ahead and check if it was still there?
Nope, who steal a whole nature reserve, well no one stole it but it was closed due to land slides caused by heavy rain, I am cursed, i know it.
Well nothing much to do about it so I headed back to the coast, having learned my lesson I have bough a map, a paper map, over which I pour every evening.
I know something that the GPS did not know I did not heed its beeps but set forth on a quite good gravel road over the mountains, eventually I ened up in Plettenberg Bay or as the cool ones say, Plett.
The gravel ride was nice, I saw one car and a bakkie, SA for pick-up so I would
probably have ended up dead in a ditch had something happened, nice roads to be on but a bit unsafe due to the small amount of people who actually travel on these roads.
Once in Plett I got a fairly decent room, some fairly decent wine and a so so chicken.
Plettis to hip for me, surfers, so the next morning I took off to Port Alfred, in Port A I went to a hotel and got quoted a price for room, checked booking.com and got the same room quite a lot cheaper, bastards. So I booked it on the net and went back in and told them that I'd already booked it, the look on their faces was funny.
I was going to get down by the river to get some liquid fermented painkillers for my behind when I spotted the word bistro on a rather dilapidated building on the other side of the road, I trotted over and got a glass of anaestethics and agreed with the owner after having interrogated him about the menu that we'd see each other in the evening.
Excellent salad, fresh asparagus ,cashew nuts and ,and with a peach
dressing and a freshly line caught fish cooked just right, some wine with your food monsieur.
Fuckin' right bring hither the fermented grape juices with all speed my good man, the Cape Brandy was not half bad.
So now I've three really good meals in SA, let's keep up the good work out there, and it's cheap compared to home, yihaaaa!
The next day I put next destination into the GPS and after a while I realised that the thing has some ideas of it's own and whoever made the software should not only be flogged but also be infested with the fleas of a thousand camels and his/ her arms shrink so that he/she can't scratch.
You have to get "Tracks4Africa they said, it's very good they said, what a crock of shite.
It can not find it's way out of a bucket, major destinations, yes but that's it.
So having made a good part of my sightseeing trip I was rather worse for wear and just wanted to get a room, having had enough.
The next metropolis was Mthatha, a run of the mill town with a boutique hotel.
don't know the difference between a boutique hotel and a normal run of the mill one, it had a parking with a big mother of a gate, when you have a bike and don't want to remove your luggage bag every day and has heard all the rumours about African shit-hole countries, it's a clear case of rather safe than sorry.
I was probably the only gay, no I mean white guy in this village.
Fish for dinner ,again, and two beers and I'm gone, to sleep that is what I did, no nubile African girls for me!
And how would i smuggle her in anyway?
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