Day 34-36 Border Crossing/Springbok/Tulbagh & Welcomed by Whales

Day 34-35  Border Crossing/Springbok/Tulbagh

I should say so!!!!

It so closely resembles the crossing from Sonora, Mexico, into Arizona, USA it’s scary.  You have grown accustomed to the stark dryness, to the Third-World roads without shoulders, to the emptiness, to people with little more than the smiles they wear.  And then.  Then you cross an artificial line, in this case it’s an actual physical border, the Orange River, you go through some form-filling and a couple wave-throughs, and boom! 

So very Arizona!

Green bursts out on both sides of your highway, which has just as suddenly improved, guard rails, bold lines, shoulders, rest stops with more than just a waste receptacle, gas stations convenient, people, agriculture, lushness, signage, a sense of organization that didn’t quite exist behind you. 

And, at the same time, a constriction.  A sense that there are more rules to follow on this side.  A loss of the sense of complete freedom somehow.  The trade-off between natural and man-made.  Don’t get me wrong, South Africa is not Manhattan, but is far more developed, “emerging,” than its cousin to the north, Namibia. 

We had forgotten how fantastically stunning the mountains between Springbok and the border were.  And, the town itself, which we had dismissed on the way north as just a tiny crossroads burg, (dorpie, in Afrikaans) with nothing to offer, somehow seems metropolitan.  It has fast foods, we eat at Nando’s, a chicken place.  It has sirens at night.  It has traffic signals (robots). 

We sleep at Annie’s Cottages, a cutesy-over-the-top-with-frills-and-antiques bed and breakfast.  Perfect for our one night’s needs. 

To Tulbagh.

We chose this historic, preserved town for our final sleepover due to its quaintness factor and proximity to two other towns we need to visit before we slide on down to our coast…and our own bed. 

Kerk Straat, Tulbagh

We stay at the Tulbagh Hotel and are given the annex across the main road, which suits us fine, being the only guests in the huge old Cape Dutch house (1823) and having the courtyard to ourselves.  A walk around town is in order and we stretch our legs going all the way down Main St. and then back on the second street, Church St., the one with all the preserved and restored houses.  Many of them have become cafes or self-catering rentals, but they are a glimpse into what the town in its heyday, the early 1800’s, before cars and cell phone shops, may have been. 

Back at the room, we break out the Old Buck gin and take our last toast of the Road Trip in the sunny courtyard.  Wondrously, decadently idyllic.  Drinks downed, I start to notice the buttery late afternoon light and decide to re-trace our walk with the camera this time. 

I snap a few shots, probably the same ones I took last time we were here, 6 or 8 years ago.  But that’s okay, it’s process, not product.  At the end of the street, I run into a group of seven or so laughing, joking teenage boys.  One of them is wearing a sweatshirt with the University of Arizona trademarked logo “A” covering its entire front. 

Hey, do you know about your shirt? I ask him. 

Menhir?  He answers in Afrikaans.  Sir? 

I show him my baseball cap, which conveniently bears the same “A” and explain the coincidence and ask for some photos of the two of us.  The boys are meeting their first American in person, they tell me!  They LOVE American movies.  Are all the girls so beautiful in America?  We like to smoke ganja, do you?

Dinner in the spacious rough-timbered dining room of the hotel, fireplace blazing.   The cold feels pretty refreshing after weeks over 100F (38 C). 

Day 36  Welcomed by Whales

Waking just 4 hours from home, we head out through unbelievable farm country that nestles between mountain ranges.  Our first stop today is in Wellington, home to Jorgensen’s Distillery. 

In an attempt to re-calibrate the Ginometer, we NEED to procure some first quality gin.  Roger is there to greet us and, suddenly, all is well.  He leads us into the barn/lab/factory/storehouse where the magic takes place and explains that he not only can supply us with some of his botanical spirits, but that he has developed three new varieties:  Rooibos (a sipping gin), Hibiscus (blush pink in color), and Jasmine (with the color of wooded Chardonnay).  Naturally, we purchase one of each, cuz you never know when you may be stranded. 

Lunch in wine country

Next destination is Rawsonville, further into agriculture lands, primarily grapes.  We are picking up cases of wine for our buddies, Reinhard and Sandra, for their guesthouse, Crayfish Lodge.  Six cases at the first winery, ten at the next, and an offer we couldn’t refuse from the attractive hostess behind the tasting counter, to give a few of their newest varietals a sip.  Yum.  The new wooded Chenin Blanc is to die for, so, yes, we can squeeze it in, we’ll take a case for ourselves, as well. 

Fellow patrons at lunch-note matching hair and undies!

Now, it’s just a couple more hours to 6, Ingang Straat. 

After making our wine delivery and a few toasts to everyone’s health, we roll down the driveway and into La Casa Wixted.  Welcoming us home were at least nine whales, just below the deck, happy to see us safely back. 

Unload. 

Kick back. 

Aaaaaahhh.