A road trip in South Africa

Me, Lindsey, two dogs, two oceans, a wedding and kilometers of empty roads, driving through a beatiful country.

One road trip

I love road trips. I think that everyone should at least in their life, make a road trip somewhere far, in a different country or continent, surrounded by the people he/she likes to spend time with.

I was never a great driver within the city limits, but once on the road I always loved the monotony of the engine and the change of scenery.

I still remember one of my favourite trips, in 2004 in America, from Los Angeles to Las Vegas and back. Yes, they look quite close on the map but once you drive through the desert, the distance seemed to be multiplied by 10.

I remember driving with the hired Cadillac with Jonny, Guy, Robert and the crazy Spanish guy David, all five of us extremely excited to go and visit the capital of sin. Then, on the way back, the excitement was replaced by the silence of the hangover, with Jonny sleeping in the back and me and David literally sitting on him.

Another great road trip was in France, in 2005, with my good Irish friend Rob, following the story that Alain Fournier left behind in the Grand Moulniere.

They all seemed such a long time ago.

So, when the occasion was right (Lindsey and I got married 1 year ago, and our two dogs were old enough to travel), and the excuse was perfect (Kirsten's wedding), I couldn't say no to Lindsey's idea to a long road trip through the central and western parts of South Africa.

After all her little sister was getting married and the last I've been to Cape Town was in 2005, on my first trip to South Africa.

Weeks before the departure, most of the people I know said that it was madness. Drive to Cape Town? And then to the Wilderness? With two dogs who have never travelled more than 30 minutes? With luggage? On a small Toyota Yaris?

But hey, I'm the kind of guy who likes to do crazy things just to brag about it or just to have a nice story to tell in years to come. So, after a consult with the dog trainer (yes, we spent the first 3 months of the year going to dog's obedience school. Bruce failed, Cucciola passed) we realized that wasn't an impossible task.

Packing the car in the evening, with the plan of leave town in the early morning, to avoid traffic, was like playing Tetris with luggage.
If the car was a game console, I would have scored many points.
The first problem happened the same night: one of the tyres was flat, and I've never checked the spare tyre since one of the many small accidents I had with the car.

So, departure was postponed by many hours. This was good, none of us was really happy to wake up at 3am and jump into a car and drive.

8 hours later and with the sun already high in the sky, Lindsey, Bruce, Cucciola, a lot luggage and I were on the way to Kimberley. The plan was to drive there, spend the night at Shari's house, and then drive then next day to Cape Town. The dogs thought that they were going to a park, and when, after an hour, they were still sitting in the car, none of them seemed too happy.

Cucciola, the female, suffers from car sickness, and spent most of the trip with her head under the passenger's seat, just like an ostrich. Bruce, instead, loves to drive as long as you stop somewhere for a walk or a run. None of them was impressed when we stopped for our first dog break somewhere outside Johannesburg, in a tiny park by a shopping mall.

After a long day of drive and too many road words, we reached Kimberley around 8pm. Shari and her two dogs greeted us in her new place, somewhere in Kimberley, and we crashed for the night.

Some hours later, in the morning, it was time to leave Kimberley and drive to Cape Town, for the longest stage of our tour. Shari joined us in the car (she was invited as well), and we somehow managed to squeeze inside the car.

Driving from Kimberley to Cape Town was probably one of my favourite moments. The road was empty, nobody drives there (only few trucks), and you could drive at 140 - 150km/h through the Karoo desert.

With the iPod blasting songs to keep everyone up, memories of my trip to Vegas, driving through a similar desert (with plenty more cars, drinks and casinos on the road) flashed into my mind. I'm a nostalgic man, I like to remember the good old times, and I accumulated plenty of them in my first 30 years.

After deploying Shari to her cousin's house, we drove to Hout Bay, where the whole Thomson Family was setting the HQ to get ready to prepare the wedding.

The whole clan was there: Stella, the grandma, David and Jenny, my father and mother in law, Jill with Curtis and obviously Kirsten and Andy.

We decided to spend the first evening, after a great fish braai made by David, taking Cucciola and Bruce to the Atlantic Ocean and the beach to let them experience for the first time in their life that strange experience that is the ocean.

You see, I've always lived far, far away from any sea. In Milan it was 200km. In London technically I wasn't too far but you wouldn't go to a beach by the Thames, would you?

Even in Poland, in Poznan, I was hour away from that cold piece of sea that is the Baltic.

So the excitement wasn't just with the dogs. I was quite happy too. Bruce and Cucciola ran into the water and only moments later they realized that it was moving, it was cold and it was too salty to drink. The look on their faces was one of those priceless moments. Lindsey and I tried to go knee high in the water, but the Atlantic was truly freezing. Still, the surroundings around us (the little towns, the bay, and the mountains) were breathtaking, for someone not used to it like me.

Two souls

After a good night of sleep, it was time to pack up our bags and move to Rieebek Wes, the location of the wedding, 80km north of Cape Town. The dogs (all four of them, Kirsten's Lucky and Dub and our two) travelled in another car while we collected the flowers.

The day was fantastic, no sign of clouds in the sky and the long drive to the countryside part of the Western Cape, far from the Ocean but still on the nice side of the mountains, where wineries keep popping along the roads, was relaxing enough, with Lindsey driving. I was just holding the precious flowers and decorations for the wedding in the back of the car. No pressure.

The farm chosen by the future Sprawsons was incredibly nice. I didn't even look at the brochure or the pictures months ago, all they told was that they were getting married in a barn.
So in my mind I imagined some strange and hilbilly-ish place on the mountain where dodgy Afrikaners would squeeze us in a small and smelly place, surrounded by cows and pigs.

Luckily I was wrong (and this happened a lot during the trip).

I don't remember much of my own wedding's preparation. Probably because I wasn't there. While the Thomsons were checking up the arrangements made by the professionals, I was in a drinking and swimming in a pool with my overseas friends. So when I volunteered myself to help out with the preparation I was expecting to just sit around, sip some local wine, and spend 10 minutes helping with the decorations.

The Thomsons literally took over the place. Everything was arranged by Kirsten's close and extended family (like her cousins Debbie and Bronwyn and her auntie Della), who arranged flowers, banters, tables while trying to get ready for a wedding.

After spending some time hiding with Curtis, to avoid girlie duties (you know, I hate flowers), we decided that maybe it was time to help a little. I spent some time setting up the camera (I brought all my kit to film the special event) and then just doing the bits and bops, like taking care of my way too excited dogs.

The camera was ready, the lights in the barn were ready, and almost everyone was there (Andy's family arrived maybe 1 hour before the ceremony, to keep it exciting): it was time to start.

Andy arrived with his brother (who was playing the guitar), and the door at the bottom of the barn opened to let the bridesmaids in: Bronwyn, Nicola (Andy's sister), Lindsey and Jill. Then it was Kirsten's time to walk the aisle with her father David (who just 1 year and 1 day before walk another aisle with another daughter). She looked wonderful, and you could see Andy's face finally relaxing and letting the tension fly far, far away.

The special guests at the ceremony were Lucky and Dub, Andy and Kirsten's dogs, who were decorated for the occasion and brought the rings with them.

The ceremony was probably the quickest I've ever seen (15 minutes top), and I must say that I really liked it this way: short and sweet. No too many songs, no too much preaching, just the usual words and a nice exchange of vows (I wasn't really listening, I was too focused on framing it, but Lindsey told me the vows were cute).
Since I was filming, I didn't take many pictures, but you can check the official pictures in the link at the bottom of this page.

After the usual session of photos, it was time for me to swap the cameraman's hat for the master of ceremonies' hat (yes, I'm a multi task man, you can hire me for your wedding, all I need is a ticket, some cash and free food and booze).

The reception was outside, and the weather was perfect for the occasion. Very hot to start with (when everyone was still in the cold barn) and gradually turning to a pleasant 25 degrees, while everyone was eating. The food was great, and the speeches (David, Andy's brother and Andy) fitted the occasion.

Andy then got the acoustic guitar and sang Adam Sandler's I want to grow old with you (here's the link to the original video, from the Wedding Singer's movie).

Then, it was time to party. Back in the barn, converted now from a church to a disco, we plugged my iPod and Andy's computer and danced the night away.

Few hours later, it was time to go to sleep, and in the silence of the valley, the only thing you could hear was the dogs barking (Cucciola apparently doesn't really like people with a different colour of skin).

The next morning, before everyone went back home, we had a gigantic breakfast together and then we said goodbye to the newly married couple who left to go to Paternoster, somewhere by the sea in the Western Cape (I think).

Lindsey and I were assigned to stay at the Sprawsons' cottage, house sitting their dogs. For me, after days of travelling around, it was a nice occasion to finally do some work and relax for a week.

I was so wrong.

Three legs

I've had animals for most of my life. When Segugio, our family dog, died back in the early 90's, I couldn't stand to have another one. It was too painful when he died while I was on holiday.

We had a cat for 10 years, Pulce, who fought all his life and killed and raped in the whole neighbourhood... it made me so proud!, and while I was in the army, my sister basically replaced me with a new dog, Bart, who still lives and prosper in Italy (he's now 10 years, Pulce, unfortunately, died after 12 years, in 2005, trying probably to kill a car).

Then I moved to London. I had Rob, Jack Daniels, an internet connection, football and not much else. I didn't need anything else, I thought. Maybe a place bigger than 40 square meters. Maybe a bidet. But at the time, I was happy with what I had.
Then, moving to South Africa, and suddenly owning a big house, and being married, I felt like I needed a dog to keep me company during those long days at the office. Lindsey was keen too and so we got ourselves two puppies that grew quite quickly, surviving any kind of disease and problems due to the initial malnutrition they had when they were abandoned.

Living with dogs is an experience that everyone should try. Yes, they piss everywhere at first, and their poo is either too liquid to scoop or too smelly to face. They also eat, fart, and bark in random succession during the course of the day (and night). And don't forget the insanely expensive veterinary bills!

But their unconditional love forms a bond with the owner that is difficult to experience in any other relationship.

So our trip to Cape Town with Bruce and Cucciola was a risk. We just wanted to have some memories that in the future we could share with our friends, family and kids. Everything was fine until the day after the wedding. Then, suddenly, on a Monday morning, the whole experience almost turned sour.

Lindsey and I were sitting at Kirsten's home. I was finally connected on internet and all I need was some credit on my phone to be able to finish some works that required my urgent attention. So with Bruce house sick (there wasn't much garden around the house to run freely with Cucciola) and bored, it was a nice chance to take him for a walk to relax a little. As soon as I left the house, Cucciola started crying and crying. Lindsey even phoned while I was crossing the road, noticing how desperate to get out she was.

So I crossed the road. And at the local Caltex, I asked for the location of the closest cash point. Then, for some reason that still today I can't explain, Bruce freaked out. Maybe was the smell of the petrol station, or the strange local accent used by the colored guy who was talking to me. Bruce backtracked, managed to get his head out of the collar, leaving me with a limp leash, and crossed the road. In the middle of the traffic. Just when the lights turned green.

It's strange how something that happened in probably 10 seconds, replays in your head like it was really 10 minutes long. I remember thinking "Fuck, I need to do something" and then "Fuck, that car is not going to stop" and "Fuck, that car just hit my dog" before I moved. Bruce was already screaming in pain, but luckily the car was just off the light and its speed wasn't too bad. I stepped on the lane, and Bruce, jumping on three legs, decided to run back home, and crossed the next lane. Again.

This time my brain finally stopped thinking (when you swear in your mind it takes forever to actually react) and I crossed with him, trying to grab him.
And so another car saw me, and slowed down. Bruce crossed the road and jumped his way home, ale 300 meters of it, and I was hit on my hip, or my big ass. No time to swear again, and here I am running behind a dog still too quick for me and thinking "I'm so unfit".

Two people tried to stop him but he managed to avoid them. And finally he ended his run at Kirsten's door (which was only two corners away, dogs have a great sense of orientation apparently). I shouted at Lindsey, who was at the phone with her mum, and we took a bruised, scared and bloody dog to the vet.

Few hours later he was out from the hospital, with a big bandage of his leg but in decent condition, considered what just happened.

My ass got the worse, it was painful for few days.

Suddenly the whole week changed. Bruce got used quite quickly to the cast, and all we had to do was taking precautions when walking him in parks on in wet grass. I guess that since he was alive and just annoyed by that white thing surrounding his left front leg, everything was almost ok for Lindsey and me.

The week in the cottage was slow, and mostly was a routine after another: wake up, take the dogs for wee, take the dogs for a walk, back home, breakfast, work, lunch, work, take the dogs for a walk, get a take away dinner and go to bed, surrounded by 4 furry friends, until the next day. One evening we decided to go out and watch Marley and me... a dog movie (very well done by the way)
Strange to say, it was quite relaxing. I've even managed to meet my old friend Dermot, from my London days! (he got married, had a kid and now took a year off to travel around the world with the family. Great plan)

The next Sunday Kirsten and Andy were back (thankfully their honeymoon was only a week long!) and after spending the last day with them with another huge breakfast - Andy and I already look quite pregnant - , we said goodbye to the one week old married couple and, with Bruce and Cucciola in the car, we started another leg of our long trip.

This time the destination was Wilderness, near George, on the Indian Ocean.

Four days on the Indian Ocean

I never spent much time on the southern coasts of South Africa, and neither did Lindsey. We spent a lot of time in researching the ideal place that would allow us to stay with our dogs, possibly by the sea, and we found the perfect match in the Mes Amis guest house. Still, while driving from Cape Town to Wilderness, via some mountain and some sections of the Garden Route, we had some doubts. With Bruce in a cast that wasn't allow to get wet, would we still enjoy a hotel on the beach? Would we still be able to walk by the sea, with our dogs, and generally relax, as we planned?

We had a lot of questions that filled our long stage of the trip (around 6 hours to get there!), but we were literally blown away by the place and the owners. Gerhard, the owner of Mes Amis, moved here from Germany many years ago. He decided to adapt the big house on the ocean to a guest house, and the final outcome was spectacular.

Luckily the place wasn't literally on the sea, but on a small cliff with access to the private beach via a long, wooden staircase.

They gave us a room at the end of the building, with a garden so our dogs could stay there, isolated from other guests. The room was very comfortable and so were the bed, and the only noise you could hear were the waves constantly breaking on the beach below. We arrived there around 10pm, very tired, and after a quick tour of the house (an honesty bar with cheap prices and snacks was available in the common area) we literally collapsed on the bed.

The next morning, after a fantastic breakfast, we took our dogs on the beach, after tying a plastic bag around Bruce's injured leg. He still wasn't allowed to run freely on the beach, but at least he enjoyed the walks with us. The whole beach was stretching for kilometres, but the amount of tourists was limited (the Easter break was behind the corner) and so we could enjoy it all for ourselves. Swimming was a bit difficult, for someone like me who generally swims only in pools and lakes, but nonetheless was nice to dip in an ocean warmer than the Atlantic.

We tried to do as much as possible, but with two dogs with us we soon realized that most of the attractions, included the entry to the national park, were forbidden. We drove on the nearby mountains to visit the Map of Africa, a curious natural formation that reminds the southern section of the Africa's continent. Almost all the restaurants didn't allow dogs, but we found some places that let us stay there with two grumpy and racist dogs (by now they just wanted to go home).

It was relaxing. Sure, I still had to do some work at night and during the napping time, but it was worth it.

The final night Gerhard provided us with a gigantic and delicious steak and a small barbecue. We sat by the pool with Cucciola and Bruce sleeping on the deck chair, and enjoyed our final meal in Mes Amis.

Then, it was time to start our long journey back home. We said goodbye to the place and the owners, hoping to come back some other time, and started our long drive through the small Karoo e and the exceptional Swartberg pass. Driving through the long pass, in a sunny day, surrounded by such old rock formation, in a deep narrow valley, was probably the best moment of my driving sessions.

The pass was quite long but it was literally mesmerizing. You don't find many countries in the world where you can drive through a pass and meet monkeys roaming freely around you. Like some sort of Switzerland with an African climate.

We reached Kimberley, for our Shari-stop many hours later, and after a good night or rest (thank to Shari who also cooked a delicious roast), we left to face our final leg: Kimberly - Johannesburg.

On the way to Johannesburg, after spending our final cash on drinks and food, we managed to get to the toll gate and be forced to drive back 50km because they wouldn't accept any card, debit or credit, to pay the tollgate fee. Lindsey at that moment had to replace me as a driver because I was so incredibly upset with the local idiot attendant at the station that I was very close to commit murder. The girl didn't even try to swipe my card and when I asked to talk with the supervisor just closed her little window and disappeared, leaving me with no other choice than reverse through ha queue of few cars in the same situation and a very angry truck.