Adios Amigos, Bon voyage, Goodbye, Sala Kkuhle, Totsiens, Tata, Laat Waai Meraai The ABF

At last, we had our ducks in a row, settled accounts, repaired, fixed, maintained and reassured ourselves that we were ready to roll. All we had to do was pick up our Honey Badger, sell my car and say goodbye.

The first person on my list of goodbyes was a visit to my great friend Jurie. Jurie,  bridge friend, confidante, book club friend,  friend who loved gardening as much as I do, who taught me how to make Brandy Snaps, I seem to recall we made six dozen for an event. She supported me when I was really sad and is now living in Johannesburg. In August she arrived in Cape Town to visit her daughter enabling me to spend an afternoon with her. We laughed and cried, with her one does both, we enjoyed copious cups of tea and scones and caught up. Many of our older friends have passed away but we've got wonderful memories to rehash.  Good bye dear Jurie, I think of you every day you wise old owl. You will be missed but never forgotten.  Remember if the Honey Badger ever gets to Jo'burg I'm coming to sleep over at your house.

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To get everyone up to speed, the Honey Badger went for a new tyre system that enabled Butch to deflate/inflate the tyres quickly. For details read my previous blog. 

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En route to Blouberg Strand, Butch thought he was waved over at the weighbridge. Not our favourite place to be. I followed him in the car. I observed many hands waving, gesturing, and shaking  ofthe Traffic officer’s head and then Butch alighted the truck. With hands on his hips, head downcast, and his shoulders heaving, I realised, “here comes trouble”, but for the life of me couldn’t imagine what it could be. Even from afar, his resignation was evident. The officer pointed out another gate, shook his head and disappeared into an office. Back into the driver’s seat, Butch hauled himself and beckoned despondently that I should follow him.

Butch paid a hefty R750 fine and mislaid his wallet. Fortunately, we were able to retrieve it again. Long story. It was beginning to feel like Friday the 13th, and the ramifications of a lost wallet were just too horrific to contemplate.

While the new tyre system was being installed, we fretted about the extra weight and realised the new aluminium storage box weighed 100kg. With thinking caps on, the guys went into action. It was suggested that we replace our batteries (80 kilograms each x 4) with new, lighter, economical, but expensive  Blue Nova Lithium Iron phosphate batteries. 13V/108Ah@C10/1404Wh. To be installed in Worcester.

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Returning to Worcester suited me. We could repack the Badger and put all our excess goods and chattels into our storage unit. While there, Frederika popped in to say hi. I could’ve kissed her, but I was recovering from a bout of Swine Flu; seeing a familiar Worcester face was so lovely. She promised she would follow our journey. It was lovely to see you.

While preparations were being made, Marie and Chris kindly invited us to spend two nights with them in their lovely cottage on their farm. Just in time to witness the full flush of Marie’s Spring garden. Shaded under ancient English Oak trees, her shrubs came out in all shades of pink, salmon, red and white. While the mountain behind the packing shed went from ocher to a deep blood-orange colour, I found inner peace as only a tranquil shaded garden can give. Older people do reminisce, and we’d chat late into the night, recalling some of the fantastic adventures we four have enjoyed and hope to do in the future. Somewhere along the road, we’ll meet up again.

Once we’d done the necessary goodbyes with our friends, we trundled off to drop the Honey Badger for her new batteries. Butch sighed, shrugged and reluctantly nodded, not making eye contact, when I told him I needed retail therapy and would be going off to Woolies for our weekend supplies. Back the weight goes, he probably thought. What he takes off with the left hand is swiftly replaced by the right hand. 

During our time in limbo, my greatest regret was that I missed an opportunity to have tea with a group of my best Worcester girlfriends, one that I’m sure will come to haunt me. Sometimes, not often, all the planets align, and the unexpected happens. I’d just finished my grocery shopping and made my way to the shop entrance when I looked up. Lo and behold, there was Sarine, my dearest friend. She had, on a whim, decided to come to town "for nothing, in particular", she said. For an hour and a half, we were able to visit and have tea, and I could hug her, kiss her and say goodbye. This precious and memorable moment was like winning the jackpot.

Finally, by midmorning, we were able to shrug Worcester’s dust from our feet, eagerly stepping on the gas. I silently cheered when I engaged my indicator to turn right off the N1 to Ceres. At last, our journey into the future was starting, and our little Travel Worm was growing. (the travel worm is the black squiggle on our map, mounted in the Honey Badger, marking our progress.)

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Yzerfontein caravan park was our destination where we would meet up with Butch’s children and grandchildren. My family had already said goodbye. I think we suffer from separation anxiety and prefer a once-off send-off!

Jan-Brand, Wiloma, Anna-Louise, Ellen, Billy, Anna, Bertus and Liam duly arrived. Some settled into their accommodations while we nattered and listened to all the latest stories from the girls. Billy recounted his recent walks, guides and wonderful people he’d met. Liam was shy but soon warmed up to Bush and his Micha.

Just before lunch, a bicycle with eight saddlebags arrived. A willowy, suntanned and very fit man sat on the saddle. While this bearded person pulled off his hat (he doesn’t wear a helmet), he greeted us with the best big smile ever. Billy’s friend Hendrik had skidded to a stop in a hail of gravel!

An adventurer Hendrik is in every way. Having cycled from his home town in Belgium, he has already been to the top of the world in Norway, then south to Turkey. His current journey started in Kenya a few months ago en route to Cape Town, where he’ll eventually find a working passage on a yacht to who knows where, he’ll be swept away by the trade winds. In Langebaan, he completed a yachting course and brushed up his knife skills during a Whale Trail hike. Sous Chef, he can now add to his list of already remarkable accomplishments.

We loved his easy smile and found his stories irresistible. We wish you well, Hendrik. May you never lose your enthusiasm, joy and lust for adventure travel. Your story motivates and inspires us. Don’t ever doubt yourself. Remember, we never regret what we’ve done, good or not so good, but we do regret what we didn’t do.

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Around our table, we enjoyed all the children, excitedly telling them of our plans and laying their fears to rest. We were grilled by two attorneys who could smell a rat a mile off. The interrogations went something like this:

“We will be ok, we’ve thought of every eventuality, and no, we’re not taking Malaria prophylactics, but we will be careful. We’ll wear white at sunset and douse ourselves in peaceful sleep.”

“Yes, we could get a mozzie net but don’t know how to attach one in the Badger. We’re fine. We’ll fix the holes in the fly screens with clear nail varnish (doesn’t work, I’ve tried.).”

“Oh, we have a fan that should work; insects don’t like the wind. No, not the pissy one, another one.”

“Yes, we’ve had every vaccination imaginable. Our medicine chest has plasters, Mercurochrome, Staal Druppels, and betadine ointment. We have prescriptions for Butch’s blood pressure tabs and eye drops.”

“Our ammunition boxes are full of food, condiments and pasta. We’ve replaced the old Engel, and the new one’s full of meat and veggies until we can stock up in Springbok.

We’ll eat tomatoes or whatever’s available when there’s no meat. We love street food and village markets, and remember, people always sell fresh veggies along the road. Butch has slaughtered and plucked a chicken, and we’ll slow-cook it. No, we won’t buy meat hanging from a tree branch. Promise. I don’t think I’ve ever had goat, but there’s always a first time.”

“We have Cook ‘n Spray, Doom, Zeb oven cleaner, pepper spray, and a zapper (if we can find the charger) should push come to shove. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry. We close up when there’re monkeys and baboons and know the havoc they can cause. Not to worry. We know the drill.”

“Yes, we have maps, guidebooks, and a GPS. No, we don’t have a satellite phone. Too expensive, but we do have a satellite SMS SOS device. It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry. We’ll read books and swap the read ones with people we come across. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. Butch has a Kindle, and I’ll download movies on my iPad.”

“When the wine runs out, there’s always water. It’s Africa, not the moon. We’ll be fine. Not to worry.”

“We’ll buy new threads on the street. Have you not seen all those bras and socks from China yet?”

“Of course, we’ll respect every country’s dress codes. I love wearing a doek, and I covered up in India.”

“No, we will not pay bribes. We’ll sit there until everyone gets bored. We have a dash cam and a Drive Moz sticker for Mozambique, and we’re sorted.”

“We will miss you very much, but you could always meet us somewhere. Where? Zanzibar. You could stay in a resort, and we’ll park the truck somewhere and take a ferry across.”

“We’ll let you know when we get there. Promise. It would be best if you got your ducks in a row. We’re on our way there! We don’t know yet, but we’ll keep you in the loop. You can follow our progress on Social Media Polar Steps blog.

Fiddlesticks, we love Social Media. See, nothing to worry about.”

“Of course, we’re very excited. We have itchy feet and can’t wait to get going. Of course, we’re sad to say goodbye, very, very sad indeed. If something unforeseen happens, we’ll make a plan and fly back.”

“We’ll be back when we’re ready for it. We’ll try to be there for Anna-Louise’s 21st.”

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Like a see-saw, our emotions went. The inevitable time to say our final goodbyes came. Thankfully we have stacks of photos to look back on. There were plenty of tears, and we became emotional in our old age.

Thank you, kiddos, for spending those precious last few hours with us. We appreciate your concerns knowing that all the questions come from a place of love and care. Butch knows you love him and wish him well on this journey. The future is unknown to all of us. We must take every opportunity to live our dreams, and we know you understand that and give your blessing unequivocally.   “See you in Zanzibar!”   I had the last touch with Ellen. We waved until they’d rounded the corner and couldn’t see us anymore, and still, we waved. Butch needed a tissue.

On Monday, Butch had an appointment with his orthopaedic surgeon, Spike Erasmus, who administered a series of injections to his “bad knee” to relieve him of the aches and pains he was experiencing. Billy went off to rendezvous with Butch and accompanied him back from Bellville, where my old car would go for her final service before being sold.

Hendrik prepared for his cycle to Blouberg. We hope you keep in touch and tell us about your exciting future adventures.

And then it was just Butch and me. At last. Silence. Quietly we pulled up our stakes, rolled in the awning and headed up the coast to Langebaan. We were mostly silent during the drive north. No matter how often it happens, how prepared we are, resilient or strong, saying goodbye to our children and grandchildren is never easy. The stone lodged in one’s throat is a hard one to swallow.

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