19th April. I am writing this by the light of a bonfire. Earlier I watched the moon rise – so red that it looked like a forest fire until it edged above the thick forest and resolved itself into a huge swollen rust-red orb. Now it is silver and sails high above the mountain peaks. The stars of the Southern Cross seem just an arm’s length away and little clouds, edged in silver, scud across the sky.
Drummers, sitting in the shadows, have been beating out a rhythm and a young woman has just performed a poi fire dance. She twirled and swooped the flames in the dark, arcing and bending her body as though she were a puppet of the drums --her movements and the wild dance of the flames a pure extension of the music.
Night, fire and the drums of Africa. There is only the dense Tsitsikamma forest around us-- and mountains – and moonlight. Not a sign of any habitation but this -- a back packers lodge in the middle of an ancient forest which tumbles down steep valleys to the ocean.
We are the oldest guests.
Around me I hear Spanish, German and a variety of English accents. Young folk traveling around Africa – softly sharing their stories and laughing – faces lit by the bonfire, obscured by smoke. Some Canadians described their most recent adventures -- riding ostriches, exploring the vast Cango caves, braving the bungee jump from the Bloukrans Bridge (highest in the world) …..
Earlier today Nancy and I watched as miniature figures with their arms stretched wide, plunged head first into the deep chasm of the Bloukrans Gorge to bounce and swing heart-stoppingly at the end of a pale cord. (apparently, if you hesitate, you get a nudge to help you on your way – no chance to chicken out!)
We spent most of today at Storm’s River Mouth. A crystal clear day with the sky and the sea an impossible blue and the mountains as clear as I’ve ever seen them. The boardwalk along the side of a thickly forested mountain is made of recycled plastic bags and looks like planks of weathered wood. Ancient indigenous trees surround us. Calla lilies grow wild. We catch sight of dolphins arcing through the water. Waves crash high against the rocks way below us. We climb up and down steep stairs and sway across the long suspension bridge which spans Storm’s River Mouth. The narrow river has carved deep into the earth and high cliffs flank both sides. Waves rush up a pebble beach, audibly tumbling the stones to form rounded perfection in soft hues of pink and yellow and grey. Too heavy for my suitcase, too large for the windowsill in my bedroom. But planted in my memory.
We take lots of photos. Smiles of happiness are stretched on our faces.
We eat fresh calamari on the restaurant deck with the sun warming out backs and an uninterrupted view -- insanely beautiful.
And now here we are tonight at Wild Spirit backpacker’s lodge. We are here because my daughter, Julia, fell in love with the place when she first stayed here a couple of years ago. “You would love it, mum!” she kept saying. She is now doing environmental fieldwork not too far away and comes to Wild Spirit regularly. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect of a backpackers lodge or how at ease I would feel here. But now that I am here I can certainly understand why the guest book is full of travelers who planned to spend only one night here but ended up staying several. It has a hippy feel. Lots of ginger cats, prayer flags, tasty vegetarian food.
Environmentalism is a strong theme – illustrated signs about conserving water, recycling tips – there is even an art room where you can design products using recycled items. There are horses and chickens and dogs. We were warned not to leave food in our rooms if the windows were open because of monkeys and baboons. I saw a huge ugly bottomed baboon racing into the bushes chased by wildly barking dogs. There is a full bar, an excellent music system (great playlist) and free internet. The views are superb and there are meandering walks in the forest. Artistic and whimsical touches are everywhere – “Where the Wild Things Are” illustrations adorn the long communal table, my bedroom is decoratively painted vibrant orange, there are stems of delicate leaves in a small vase next to my double bed.
I can see why travelers who find this place want to stay a while. I am so glad that I will now be able to visualize Julia here. I have a hard time when loved ones are living in places I don’t know, have not seen. It makes them so much further from me. I need to know where they are to root them in my mind.
Place is so incredibly important to me.
Drummers, sitting in the shadows, have been beating out a rhythm and a young woman has just performed a poi fire dance. She twirled and swooped the flames in the dark, arcing and bending her body as though she were a puppet of the drums --her movements and the wild dance of the flames a pure extension of the music.
Night, fire and the drums of Africa. There is only the dense Tsitsikamma forest around us-- and mountains – and moonlight. Not a sign of any habitation but this -- a back packers lodge in the middle of an ancient forest which tumbles down steep valleys to the ocean.
We are the oldest guests.
Around me I hear Spanish, German and a variety of English accents. Young folk traveling around Africa – softly sharing their stories and laughing – faces lit by the bonfire, obscured by smoke. Some Canadians described their most recent adventures -- riding ostriches, exploring the vast Cango caves, braving the bungee jump from the Bloukrans Bridge (highest in the world) …..
Earlier today Nancy and I watched as miniature figures with their arms stretched wide, plunged head first into the deep chasm of the Bloukrans Gorge to bounce and swing heart-stoppingly at the end of a pale cord. (apparently, if you hesitate, you get a nudge to help you on your way – no chance to chicken out!)
We spent most of today at Storm’s River Mouth. A crystal clear day with the sky and the sea an impossible blue and the mountains as clear as I’ve ever seen them. The boardwalk along the side of a thickly forested mountain is made of recycled plastic bags and looks like planks of weathered wood. Ancient indigenous trees surround us. Calla lilies grow wild. We catch sight of dolphins arcing through the water. Waves crash high against the rocks way below us. We climb up and down steep stairs and sway across the long suspension bridge which spans Storm’s River Mouth. The narrow river has carved deep into the earth and high cliffs flank both sides. Waves rush up a pebble beach, audibly tumbling the stones to form rounded perfection in soft hues of pink and yellow and grey. Too heavy for my suitcase, too large for the windowsill in my bedroom. But planted in my memory.
 |
| Looking up Storms River from Suspension Bridge |
 |
| Has quite a sway! |
We take lots of photos. Smiles of happiness are stretched on our faces.
We eat fresh calamari on the restaurant deck with the sun warming out backs and an uninterrupted view -- insanely beautiful.
And now here we are tonight at Wild Spirit backpacker’s lodge. We are here because my daughter, Julia, fell in love with the place when she first stayed here a couple of years ago. “You would love it, mum!” she kept saying. She is now doing environmental fieldwork not too far away and comes to Wild Spirit regularly. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect of a backpackers lodge or how at ease I would feel here. But now that I am here I can certainly understand why the guest book is full of travelers who planned to spend only one night here but ended up staying several. It has a hippy feel. Lots of ginger cats, prayer flags, tasty vegetarian food.
Environmentalism is a strong theme – illustrated signs about conserving water, recycling tips – there is even an art room where you can design products using recycled items. There are horses and chickens and dogs. We were warned not to leave food in our rooms if the windows were open because of monkeys and baboons. I saw a huge ugly bottomed baboon racing into the bushes chased by wildly barking dogs. There is a full bar, an excellent music system (great playlist) and free internet. The views are superb and there are meandering walks in the forest. Artistic and whimsical touches are everywhere – “Where the Wild Things Are” illustrations adorn the long communal table, my bedroom is decoratively painted vibrant orange, there are stems of delicate leaves in a small vase next to my double bed.
I can see why travelers who find this place want to stay a while. I am so glad that I will now be able to visualize Julia here. I have a hard time when loved ones are living in places I don’t know, have not seen. It makes them so much further from me. I need to know where they are to root them in my mind.
Place is so incredibly important to me.
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