Day 361 / 126

Date: 8 April 2023
Sleeping location: Swallows Nest cottages, Stormsrivier, South Africa
Distance (km today/total/total Part 2): 107 / 22560 / 7723
Estimated climb (m today/total/total Part 2): 800 / 212900 / 94900
Welcome: wet
Day in three words: Feels like home

After the buffet breakfast (limited selection of “continental” items, steady bacon and eggs, rescued by home-made still-warm muffins: 7/10) we headed out west. The weather was quite cool and drizzly with a headwind, the road was busy, the scenery was fields, wind farms and litter. Dad could have stayed at home for this. We reset with good coffee and cake at a nice cafe in the town of Humansdorp, with me really hoping this wasn't the end of the exciting bit of my journey. 

After the ‘dorp we were now on a quiet road, first through empty farmland then through pine forest. After a bit of up and down we hit the Tsitsikamma plateau about 300m up and it was fairly flat, but the headwind continued at about 30kph and made progress a grind. As the day went on the low Tsitsikamma mountain range rose and stayed to our right. It was all perfectly pretty, and quite reminiscent of the UK, but the constant battle sucked the joy away. 

70km into the day we stopped at a farm stall for another reset, sandwiches and snacks (and a beer for me, for courage). By the time we set off again the drizzle had returned in earnest, the headwind was still blustering and it was kind of cold. Sheets of rain drifted across the land straight into our faces. We ploughed on, heads down, damp and counting down the remaining 35km. The only thing to break the tedium was the spectacular Storms River bridge that we crossed, 120m above a deep jagged canyon of huge craggy cliffs and columns made of Lego brick shaped rocks. All was shrouded in cloud/drizzle/gloom but it was still beautiful and dramatic. This was our sign that the end was near and we arrived in the village of Stormsrivier a bit after 5, soaked and shivering with cramped hands from the cold. Poor dad has had two days of the worst cycling I’ve experienced in months.

In reception were some complimentary sherries, so that was an instant help with recovery*. My dad had accidentally booked enough rooms to sleep about five people so I had an entire cottage to myself. Further recovery came in the form of a bath with tot of brandy and a muffin, and after that I was much more at peace with the world. We set up a drying station using chairs and a standing fan and headed out for dinner. The village was touristy and contained a microbrewery and a 60s diner, both of which seemed worth checking out, but as it happened they were part of the same establishment, possibly the only microbrewery/60s diner crossover in the world. A few beers, a burger and a picture of Marilyn Monroe that looked like Nicholas Cage in a blonde wig were a welcome end to the day. 

*And a reminder of the time Toni and I got caught in a thunderstorm way back in Germany, limped into a bierkeller in a similar state and exchanged the two word conversation “Schnapps?” “Schnapps.”

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