Day 364/ 129

Date: 11 April 2023
Sleeping location: Brenton Lake Holiday Cottages, Brenton, South Africa
Distance (km today/total/total Part 2): 49 / 22711 / 7874
Estimated climb (m today/total/total Part 2): 700 / 214400 / 96400
Daniel(le): missing
Day in three words: Seals and rails

After breakfast (Nice coffee, eggs, bacon and toast, but a group of Germans ate most of the fruit salad: 7/10) we loaded up the bikes, cycled the short but hilly distance to the Robberg Peninsula nature reserve, left the bikes there and slipped on our hiking shoes for a jaunt around. It was a nice day, sunny and cool with a strong wind blowing, and the car park was full but once we got walking it became clear there was more than enough path to go around. Robberg is a dramatic, long thin peninsula which drops almost vertically 100m to the sea on one side and slopes more gently down to it on the other. The path starts on the higher side and we walked out through a load of rocks that looked like peanut brittle, loads of small round stones bound up in sandstone, with great views on our left down to the bright blue sea far below.  

The peninsula is also home to over 5,000 Cape Fur Seals and before long we saw the first of them, frolicking below us in the surf, seemingly just for the fun of it. It did look fun. They sleep and breed in big colonies on big shelves of rock by the sea, far below the footpath so they are safe from people being idiots and trying to take a selfie with them. There were hundreds of them; they gave off a very fishy smell even 100m up and made all kinds of weird noises mainly reminiscent of Chewbacca. Many more were frolicking offshore, so many that we wondered if they were actually hunting for fish as their economy would struggle to function with such a high proportion of them just larking about.

Further round was the strange sight of lots of soft beach sand 100m above the sea. We guessed that it must have been blown up there, which gives an idea of how windy it is. It went right up to the edge of the rock and formed a sort of sand cliff, which is probably just as dangerous as it sounds, but despite signs warning people not to go close to the edge they obviously still did because people are stupid. After some more high level path we reached the end of the peninsula and descended down to sea levels. Here we could see some seals in a water close up, again frolicking (or fishing?) in the powerful waves, and it was a wonderful experience to watch them for a few minutes. The path then went back along the other side of the peninsula, along the rocky shore with big orange boulders for us to scramble over. The waves were crashing onshore and the air was filled with a mist of spray. It was very beautiful and a very fun section of hiking. 

On the way out I took a detour to the Nelson Bay Cave (dad already had his cycling shoes on and couldn’t be bothered) which was occupied by hunter gatherer tribes going back up to 125,000 years. The inhabitants all left evidence of what they’d been eating, bones and shells and such, in such volume that it stacked up in a series of layers over a metre high. This allowed archaeologists to see what was being eaten at what points, and link this up with known temperature and sea levels. It was nicely displayed and an interesting little diversion.

Back on the road we had 45km through rolling farmland, the first half on a small road and the second back on our favourite the N2. There wasn’t much going on but I did say hello to a man waiting by the side of the road, then say hello to what I am sure was the same man, also waiting by the side of the road, a few km later. Either he can run faster than two bikes or he has a doppelgänger (or twin). The N2 wasn’t as bad as it had been as we were now without a headwind and it was a bit quieter. As the landscape was rolling we/I could tuck and go on the downhills, including a big descent into Knysna, which with its tin roofed shacks and a pig on the road was Dad's first taste of non-fancy urban South Africa.

 

We needed to go shopping as the night’s cottage was self catering with no restaurants about, so I popped in whilst dad guarded the bikes. At the till was a man dressed in ordinary clothes as well as the attendant and it surprised me when he began, unprompted, to start packing the shopping into one of my two bags, so much so that I didn’t really know what to do, panicked and began packing the shopping into the other bag. We then began some kind of bizarre bag packing competition, each striving to pick and pack the best item when it came out, so in the end the packing was a total mess. In hindsight I guess he was working for tips, but I hate the “service I didn’t ask for but am expected to pay for”* so I probably wouldn’t have tipped him even if I’d realised, plus I AM THE BEST ONE AT PACKING MY SHOPPING.

Our accommodation was a long way around the bay but there was an old railway line across the water which was now shown as a footpath and allegedly suitable for bikes. This turned out to be dead wrong as over the land it was all overgrown grass, big sleepers and loose gravel and over the water it was a rickety walkway with tracks on one side, a half broken railing on the other, a lot of big gaps through to the lake and a looming sense of terror at all times. We pushed for 95% of it and briefly worried that we might be trapped on it forever before it crossed a small road and we could escape after about 3km. Brenton was very strange, a network of quiet roads and lawns with loads of giant rabbits, birds and bushbuck wandering around everywhere, apparently tame and completely fine with people. We couldn’t initially find the cottage and got split up, so wandering around after dad’s distant voice with all these animals about was like a weird fever dream. Once safely installed I cooked up a feast with the badly packed ingredients, minus one egg which had smashed because HE PACKED IT WRONG, had some red wine and watched the footy on the TV - domestic bliss.

In the visitor book for the cottage was the following handwritten note: “Dear Guest/whom it may concern. If you find a mouse, his name is Daniel. Please do not try catch him, he is harmless. He will not hurt or touch you, therefore do not hurt or touch him. He is our friend, let him be. PS we do not know he is a boy. If you find Daniel is a girl please call him Danielle” with a little drawing of a mouse. Sadly we did not find Daniel(le).

*See also, shit bands in bars/restaurants or on public transport