Sedgefield, part deux

With a few days to go before my date with the knife, there was time to do some more local exploring and atlassing.  After extensive overnight rain I woke up one morning and met this very disgruntled fellow on the way to the showers - talk about a bad hair day.

There are two places in the area where paragliders take off, Sedgefield and Map of Africa in Wilderness, so as I hadn't been there a visit was called for.  Why Map of Africa?

That's the view from one side of the launch site and this is the other, unfortunate about the haze but also a stunning place to fly from and 20 k's of beach to land if you miss.

This is Copper who decided the shelf above the headboard was an ideal spot for a snooze and used to drop in occasionally, but fled to the safety of the office as soon as the Christmas crush started getting serious - we share a mutual dislike of mini humans.

Next on the to do list was Featherbed Nature Reserve which is managed by National Parks but a private company runs the tours, which includes a cruise on a launch, a road train to the top of the Western Head, a trail back down and lunch.  During the boat trip, our guide took great delight in revealing the sad lives that the male Knysna seahorses lead.  Only found in this estuary (not actually a lagoon at all) and the one at Sedgefield, they would be in dire trouble but for captive breeding programmes.  The males have a pouch that their loving spouses fill with eggs every 31 days, so no sooner has he birthed one lot the next lot move in and he's basically "pregnant" until he croaks - and you know what we call that our hostess crowed - REVENGE.

The reason that Featherbed exists and is not covered in concrete is because the area was bought by JLB Smith, the man who identified the coelacanth.  When he died it was left to National Parks and the reason for the name may be because when sailors pulled into it's tranquil bay it was like sleeping on a ........  The "train" consisted of a Unimog tractor and three trailers, carrying around 100 people.  Low range, first gear and four-wheel drive were required to haul up the first part of the hill from the restuarant to the Smiths house.

From the top it's a 2 k stroll, mostly through indigenous forest back to the restaurant and the views.....

..........are rather spectacular.

There is an option of visiting a couple of sea caves and after walking over this land bridge it's 120 stairs down to get to........

................what looks like a giant throat complete with uvular.

Some rather interesting rock patterns revealed by erosion........

.......and what is rapidly beoming one of my favourites, a Black Oystercatcher.  These guys have made a stupendous recovery since beach driving was banned, the biggest group I've encountered consisted of 11 individuals.

Lunch was an eclectic mix of hot and cold which was consumed under the milkwoods as the weather was glorious.  It never ceases to amaze me a) how much some people eat and b) how much some people waste - gluttony of the first order.

So far I have visited four "big" trees in the massive area that is the Knysna and Tsitsikamma forest and again it is testament to mans greed that there are so few left.  Up in the Diepwalle Forest near Knysna is King George V11 tree, at about 800 years old it's one of the youngest, one wonders if man will still be around when some of it's younger relatives reach the same age.

At the height of the timber frenzy a narrow gauge railway hauled the stuff to the harbour at Knysna pulled by a little locomotive called the "Coffee Pot".  The driver regularly stopped to pick up anyone who needed a lift but one day asked a washer-woman who was carrying a load if she'd like to hop on and her reply was "No thanks I'm in a hurry".  This loco ended up in the Transnet Museum in George which became a "must do" but had to be put on hold until after the surgery.  All of which went fine though I was about as ambulatory as a nonagerian for a few days and an overnight in the hospital required a sleeping pill to replace the booze.  Ten days later I was a sprightly 80 year old and decided to do the old road from Sedgefield to George, where I was to have the stitches out.  Not such a great idea as I had to keep clutching myself when I hit potholes, some of the views were very impressive though.

Given the all clear by the surgeon, I decided to treat myself to a bit of steam nostalgia.  Located in what must have once been maintenance sheds was a monumental array of loco's, rolling stock and just about everything else you could imagine from the era.  It's enormous but after two hours my decrepit body began to give up, really need to get back when I'm over this.  I would guess there must be at least 30 loco's down the ages......

..........to the all time monster, the Class 16E Garrett, designed specifically for our narrow gauge rail system and one of the biggest and most powerful of all steam locomotives.

There's also a huge selection of old cars, buses and trucks which I still need to get to and two of the original White Train coaches, specially designed and built for the Queens' visit in 1948 ot thereabouts.  The local coaches were considered inferior because they weren't air-conditioned.

I took things very easy for another week, then moved out of the caravan park, put the Beast in storage and headed for Knysna to overnight in the rather swish Lagoon Lodge.

The plan was to have a few nights in Cape Town before flying to Dubai on the 25th, but that fell through so I found a place in Montagu for two nights - another of those superb Karoo gems accessed though a narrow winding poort with a hole punched through solid rock at one point.  If you look closely at the ridge above and to the right of the tunnel, you may make out the walls of an old British fort.  Needless to say that the sign announcing it's presence had been altered with the "o" being given a tail to convert it to "a".

As with a lot of other Karoo towns, land owners are entitled to lei water which is delivered via covered channels to irrigate fruit trees or crops.  The water is drained from the Lei Dam situated near the town centre and hundreds of Cattle Egrets and Sacred Ibis have turned the trees around the dam into a massive nursery.

Many of the houses have been lovingly restored and are recognised as National monuments.

The last two nights were spent in this "Eco-cottage on the outskirts of Grabouw and though it was brill iantly designed and finished it was planted right behind the factory that builds them and obvoiusly used as a show house.  The factory was closed for Christmas though, so it was quiet, but almost totally devoid of birds - as was the whole pentad around the town (or should I rather say dump).  This is probably explained by the fact that it is one of the biggest fruit producing regions in the country.

Thereafter it was off to the airport, drop the bakkie with a valet service and onto a 777 for the nine hour flight to Dubai, where Sally has a lovely duplex in the massive Springs complex and what do you know, on the first morning here - it rained.

Minor hiccup

"Like a mighty king it stood above the white alder and mountain saffron, stinkwood, assagai and hard pear. As if God had planted it before the others.  Its' giant roots anchored in the ground like giant arms."  Dalene Mathees' description of her big tree in "Circles in the forest".  Though not as big as some of the others, this particular specimen in the Outeniquas was a place she visited often to "de-stress" and there is now a memorial to her and a circular trail that bears her name in perpetuity.  It would appear that there is only a single cow left in the whole Knysna forest area, so it would seem that the circles are soon to be lost forever.  I recall there being some scheme to reintroduce elephants but it seems to have been shelved, however there are a couple of circus's around that are called elephant reserves to cater for visitors.

A lot of trees in splendid bloom at present are the Cape chestnut (Calodendron capensis), never forget Hamish Campbell - who had to study both Latin and Greek when he did medicine - explaining, Calo - beautiful, dendron - tree.  Very apt.

While taking this picture I received a call from Jan, the saner of the two instuctors at the para school, who was concerned about what had gone wrong and made some suggestions as to how it could be rectified. This included more ground work and a tandem flight to get my confidence back, which I was quite happy to do. He said he would contact me when conditions were right so figuring I had time to kill I went of to do some shopping in Knysna as the local PnP doesn't carry some of the things I like.  Parking in Knysna is interesting but I found one in a quiet backstreet near this quaint little all corregated iron house, which brought back some my earliest memories of 48 Townsend Road in Bulawayo which was similarly constucted.  The memories are somewhat foggy as we left when I was four, but it was always pointed out when we were in the area and in all probability is still there.

Yes I know they're alien but there are a lot of them around here and they do put on quite a show and the sunbirds love them.  Being parked under one, as I am now, having moved site recently is a bit mucky to say the least..  Will have to settle for Eucalyptus sp. as I only know them as red gums, Richard Boon may be able to enlighten me.

No sooner had I taken this shot than the call came through, wind fair, we're flying from Sedgefield, get here as soon as you can.  What a stunning place to fly from.  Two of the other three members of the original group were also there having completed 31 of the required 35 flights so thinhgs must have been hectic, nevertheless it was a bit disappointing watching them get ready to go - that's Braam with the blue glider on the ground.  He's 58 and a boer with legs that would have made Jonah Lomu envious - should have asked him for a lift up the dunes.

Then I was hooked into the tandem with Jan, two steps and away- amazing.  Lots of lift at both ends of the ridge which felt like the elevator in the Carlton Tower and a running commentary on the hows and whys as we flew back and forth for what seemed like 20 minutes but was probably closer to 10, but by the time we landed I was still in two minds, but leaning towards having another go - but then the hiccup.

I had started feeling some discomfort in the groin region a couple of months ago and was aware that something was amiss.  Eventually gathered the courage to make an appointment with one of the local GP's, very nice Afrikaner, who assured me that it wasn't cancer merely a sac of liquid that went by the grand name of a hydrocele.............and by the way you also have an inguinal hernia.  Nothing serious but he advised that both should be sorted and it would be easy enough to do it all at once.  Fine, can you recommend a surgeon, sure let's make an appointment with Dr Sunshine in George.  Sunshine, you've got to be kidding, though I said nothing.  His receptionist made the appointment and gave directions to his rooms in Gloucester Road, which took a while to twig as she pronounced it phonetically.  I was expecting someone of oriental extraction at the very least so was very surprised to be met by a distinguished, grey-headed gentleman of very South African persuasion.  I couldn't help but ask the origin of the name and though not certain, he believed it was Anglesized German, though he was born and bred locally. A bed was duly organised in the very swish George Mediclinic for the 8th December which left me a few "free days" but totally kyboshed paragliding - perhaps just as well but there's still a niggle.

So what better than to take a few days off from this hectic lifestyle and head for the hills.  Many years ago when I was writing for Country Life, I visited Prince Albert and drove over the magestic Swartberg Pass, another of Bains' masterpieces.  Near the top is a turn off to Die Hel (The Hell) and though I really wanted to drive there, my vehicle wasn't up to it.  Now I have the vehicle, let's go to Hell.  From this side the approach is through Oudtshoorn, then to the top of the pass at 1586 m (below) and soon after a turn off onto a road that carries more health warnings than a packet of fags.

For good reason, rest assured.  It was only completed in 1962 and prior to that the residents trekked in from Calitzdorp through a poort on the Gamkas River.  The road had to come from a different direction, which essentially involves four passes each worse than the last, this is looking back to number two.....

.....then forward to number four.  Look carefully at the peak right in the middle and the little squiggle of road going over the col on the right, at the top of that..............

 ...............you're faced with the decent into the valley on a road with more wiggles than a dying snake. Sani Pass eat my shorts, this is 42 k's of holy shit and a lot of the time just praying you don't meet anything coming the other way.  That little green strip down there is what attracted the farmers in the first place and most of them eked out a living until the 80's when drought finally forced them to abandon their efforts.  Cape Nature took over the area and though there are still a number of privately owned places a lot of the old houses have been beautifully renovated.

This was my home for two nights, the Andries Marais House, complete with outside bathroom on the left, four bedrooms, kitchen and most importantly a stoep, where a man can sits and thinks or sometimes jus sits.  It was abandoned in the 80's and resotred from a very sorry state in 2006.

Further down the road through the valley is Lenie Marais' House, also beautifully restored and with a little uithuis constructed entirely of wine bottles left by visitors over the years, absolutely charming.

Getting out of the valley was a lot more testing than getting in and when I stopped to take a picture of this cute little Klipspringer, I noticed a definite tremor to the hands.  The Swartberg Pass is not the best road in the world but it felt like the N3 when I finally reached it.

As it was nearing lunch time I decided to find something to eat in Prince Albert which is still as cute a little Karoo town as ever, even though half of Cape Town apparantly now lives there.  I took the longer route back to Oudtshoorn through Meiring's Poort with its' many drifts as it repeatedly crosses the river.  It gets pretty tight at Dubbeldrift with the road diving beneath a massive overhang.

Near De Rust I came across this interesting formation, wonder what it's called.

Approaching the Outeniqua Pass just outside George blankets of cloud made it look like it had been snowing, magic.

Lake Pleasant and surrounds

Was out atlassing the other morning and came across this little fellow on his fench post perch watching the world go by - specially for you darling Sally.

With Knysna just up the road, a visit to the Heads View Site was compulsory as I don't remember ever being there before.  The eastern head is liberally sprinkled with lavish homes but as the western one is Featherbed National Park it only sports a couple of buildings.  National Parks run a ferry service to access the trails on that side and if the weather ever improves I'll being doing it one day.

Knysna itself is proving more and more popular with two of the larger islands in the lagoon absolutely smothered with development and large tracts of the easten ridge have been or are being converted into golf estates - as if there aren't enough all ready, 12 according to one brochure. A road now runs right up the rdige and along the top for at least 10 k's and at the end of it is a car park to access a trail.  It was from here that you really notice how much of this once superb spot is now under concrete.

Saw this in the car park - wasn't sure whether they were trying to get rid of the learner or the car....

A few evenings ago I was enjoying a sundowner and a snack when this guy dropped in for a visit.  I initially thought he was just using the guy rope as a convenient perch, as drongos still hunt, but it soon became clear that he was begging. Feeling like a bit of a wally (they are insectiverous you know) I chucked a small bit of chip, which he flew out and nabbed before it hit the ground, then rapidly polished it off.  He/she was soon joined but the mate and both of them were scarfing chips quite happily.  Needless to say as soon as the camera came out they got shy and scarpered and I only managed catch this one later when it settled for a few milliseconds.

Seem to recall mentioning the Montagu Pass over the Outeniquas (apparently Khoi for "land of plenty") so decide to drive up it as there were still a few days before the course started.  It really is most impressive though there are a couple of places that would prove very interesting if you met another vehicle.  Among the many flowers were these larger than normal lobelias, commonly known as 'Ladies slippers'.

The road crosses the Keur River - not sure what keur, or choice if I remember my schoolboy Afrikaans, was required, but as with most of the rivers around here the water is stained tea colour with tannins.

Near the top of the pass the road goes under then over the railway line that used to be home to the Outeniqua Choo Tjoe, which appears to no longer exist - a great pity

Between Knysna and Sedgefield is a turn-off to Brenton-on-sea which vaguely rang a bell so I decided to investigate.  The road goes up and over the ridge that ends in the western Head, so there's a rather splendid view of the lagoon on one side..........

..............and Buffel's Baai on the other.

It was only as I was driving out that the penny dropped when I saw a sign for the Brenton Blue Butterfly Reserve but you need permission to get in and it was getting late, so I decided to contact Steve Woodhall. He provided me with the name and number of Dave Edge, the Brenton Blue custodian.  What a charming fellow, but it turns out that these things are ultra-fussy and only fly between 12 noon and 2 pm on sunny days, which are a bit of a rarity in these parts at present.  We eventually managed to hook up which was when I learned EXACTLY how fussy these critters are.  Dave retired to Brenton 22 years ago and was instrumental in saving the butterfly from extinction when the only place they chose to live in was being developed - you may remember 50:50 and Carte Blanche doing pieces on it.  These programs put the developer in such a bad light that he was not selling plots and they got him to agree to a morotoriam on the sale of 13 sites while the Lepidopterist Society tried to raise enough to buy them.  They got to around 900 grand when the government stepped in and agreed to foot the bill, so that money was put in a trust and is still used to finance maintenance.  As not much was known about the breeding cycle, Dave regisstered to do a PhD and started delving.  For a start they feed on a plant (Indigofera erecta) that has two growth forms of which it prefers the one that only occurs in this 4 hectare patch.  After the second instar it moves underground to feed on the rootstock and starts producing a "honey" which a particular species of ant, that........is this getting repetitive..........only occurs here.  The ants take the larva into their colony and feed it until it pupates.  When it emerges it no longer has the wherewithall to satisfy the ants and if it doesn't gap it pronto, it gets eaten.  There are only two hatchings per year a shorter one in October/November and a slightly longer one in February.  So I was extremely lucky to see a male and two females and thanks to Steve so can you.

This is the female, which I did get to see very well and they are fairly big for a blue, at around 30 mm, not much of a butterfly though and according to Dave's meticulous counts, between 80 and 180 emerge per hatching. The prognosis looks good for now so it may last a few more years!

Went down to the beach for sundowners the other night and guess what, straight into the sea - so just where does the west coast start? Cape Augulus I guess.

And the paragliding?  Not so good.  It started out very much like the army with lots of "hurry up and wait" and after lugging 15 kgs of kit up a 30 m dune it felt even more like it.  By the time I got up there the wind was howling so it was grand old Duke of York time and we marched down again, then up this monster to get back to the vehicle.  I thought I was traning for the Royal Marines.

This was all repeated the next day and she expected us to do it 8 times in one morning - I made two.  I was shaking so much when I took off that I barely noticed leaving the ground and landed on my arse about 5 seconds later.  On the second flight I did a face plant about 200 m from where I was supposed to land and after being admonished my confidence was destroyed, so I quit.  Talk about being forced to run when you feel incapable of walking.  So now I'm looking for an old fart school that will appreciate that I'm 65 not 30.

So it was back to quieter pastimes like taking a 150 k drive down to Gouritzmond to find a Pacific Golden Plover, my first lifer since going to Mozambique in December last year.  Very obliging it was too.