The Nitty Gritty Of Getting The Ball Rolling.

September 19, 2022 Posted in The Honey Badger Diaries / Musings

In life, taking the first step is often the hardest; that was evident this weekend as I watched my granddaughter, Miss Maeva, take her first wobbly steps and reluctantly let go of her dad’s fingers. She’s been crawling for months, and we all expected her to bounce up onto the soft, round balls of her feet in no time. Her legs were strong, her body willing and able, and we were sure she was mentally ready. Yet on the floor, she stayed. Precious little mite. She might’ve known, deep down, that once she’s up, there’s no going back.

Precisely where we are now with our Great African Adventure, we have accomplished much, and many of our plans have been executed seamlessly, like dominoes toppling, each event perfectly synchronised to fall and tip the next. Yet we feel a sense of limbo, reminding us that change can be both challenging and hopeful.

It took a mindset shift and a positive outlook to get us back on track. In a moment of clarity, we realised our odyssey had begun when Butch collected the first pile of bubble wrap, storage boxes, packing tape, and marker pens, and we started sorting through our possessions. Five piles. Honey Badger, Onrus, Storage, Charity and gifts. After weeks of piling boxes that blocked our entrance hall, the movers arrived. With heavy hearts, we said goodbye to friends and turned a new leaf. That was the first leg of our journey, marking the beginning of a new chapter in our lives.

We spent the weeks in Onrus enjoying the first warm flushes of spring. On our bikes, we explored new territory as we clocked up the kilometres. Every other day, we pounded the pavements and paths, enjoying crisp, sunny mornings on the cliff path, and always rewarding ourselves with a coffee at Davie's Pool or, on special days, an ice cream from the Pink Kombi. On special evenings, we celebrated on the beach with a basket of cheese and biscuits. Although we enjoyed it, we knew more was in store for us before "real retirement" set in.

My girlfriends offered me a seat at their Bridge table on a few occasions, a treat worth a thousand words and one I could grow accustomed to! Friends from far and wide made special trips to Hermanus to visit, share a meal with us, and ask about our plans. Some worried about our safety, many admired our sense of adventure, and a few promised to meet us along the way. We hope they do. Special friends (hartsvriendinne) who need no invitation popped in on a whim to say hi and brought a smile with them. They're the ones who encourage us.

Unexpectedly, a mini family reunion came up when Butch's sister Lorraine and her best friend Wynanda, en route to Namaqualand, detoured to spend four nights with us in Cape Town. We realised it was special when a nephew and a niece phoned to say they would be joining us, too. Butch used Authentic Travel (more about them in my next blog) to book a beautifully restored Victorian semi-detached house in Green Point, where we stayed for the weekend. How special to share experiences with three of my five siblings, along with nephews and nieces. Liam thought Gogo Lolli was the bee's knees.

We returned to Onrus to continue packing, with a camera full of wonderful memories of The Fat Butcher in Stellenbosch, Kirstenbosch Gardens, walks to try to spot penguins at Boulders, and lunch at the iconic Harbour Cafe in Kalk Bay. We had plenty of photo opportunities on our coastal drive. We marvelled at the construction of our passes and the roads hugging the mountains. Our days were chock-a-block with activities, and we recorded them all—thanks to the wonders of modern technology.

The days accelerated, and soon the inevitable drew nearer. We were wined and dined by friends, celebrating our escapades with enthusiasm yet sad to wave them goodbye. The most poignant moment was saying goodbye to my parents, who never begrudged us this opportunity and unreservedly egged us on to live our dreams, knowing that unfulfilled dreams often lead to recriminations. As my Mum always says, “No one has ever died regretting what they did. Rather, they regret the things they didn’t do. Do not look back.”

We were privileged to witness the first World Championship Body Boarding competition in Onrus, which drew both crowds and competitors. Rumour has it that the event was a roaring success, and many foreign competitors hailed Onrus as the perfect venue for the competition. I agree.

We packed a few of our favourite things in Onrus, cleaned up, dusted, washed the windows, and tidied the garden with Eric, my right-hand man. After tilling and toiling in our patch for close to 17 years, it was hard to say goodbye to him and his family. The garage took ten weeks to declutter! Never again will I hoard another thing. My mantra is “less is more!” This will be tested tomorrow as we sort and reduce the load on the Honey Badger. Butch lit the fire and braaied his last delicious steak. Finally, I drew the curtains and lowered the blinds, knowing our cottage would pass to like-minded new owners who would love her as we did.

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The third leg of our journey was to Green Point, where we completed the business end. Wills, powers of attorney, vehicle licences, and our annual TV licence have been dealt with. We’ve had a barrage of jabs for Rabies, Yellow fever, Cholera, Hepatitis A & B, and, of course, all our COVID vaccines. With punctured arms, we’ll set forth on our inoculated merry way.

Our friend Ben Burger, a diesel specialist, serviced the Honey Badger in Worcester. Butch has installed an inflation system attached to the wheels, so he no longer needs to crawl under the truck to connect bits to the valves. Behind my seat, a compressor has been fitted to inflate and deflate the tyres with the flick of a switch, forming a Central Inflation/deflation system. Ettienne Gautier engineered the system and its installation. Unfortunately, a process that should’ve taken a few days to complete was scuppered by Eskom’s untimely stage 6 load shedding.

Jasper Hewitt of Bushwakka 4X4 Trailers and Off-road Campers in Worcester serviced the Honey Badger by adding a large aluminium storage unit to the cab roof. We plan to store all our seldom-used items, such as diving equipment and winter woollies, in it. His professional team expertly completed all other minor repairs and additions.

With me bringing up the rear, we set off for Melkbosstrand, where the truck would park for the duration of the tyre system installation. As usual, we were pulled off at the weighbridge, and Butch duly inched forward, unperturbed, to be weighed.

Behind him, I could see the traffic official’s emphatic head shake. Butch alighted from the truck, peered at the scales, shook his head and scratched his forehead. This was not going to plan. After a lengthy back-and-forth, the Badger was fired up and escorted to the yard. I followed, perplexed.

The Honey Badger had gained 240 kg, and protocol requires us to shed the excess weight and dispose of it without compromising the weight of the vehicle transporting the goods. While Butch dealt with the fine and paperwork, I let out the 180 litres of water we were carrying.

Our braai wood was swiftly disposed of and carted off by another driver of a once-heavy vehicle, and a few baskets were dispatched to our car.

In the excitement, Butch mislaid his wallet, adding to the already nerve-wracking situation. Fortunately, he stayed calm and, after some searching, found it. The thought of replacing his driving licence, ID documents, and credit and debit cards might’ve been the last straw.

Everyone agreed the timing was spot on, giving us ample time to adjust our weight before we entered uncharted territory. I couldn’t agree more.

On Wednesday, we will replace our lead-acid deep-cycle batteries with new, lightweight, efficient, cost-effective Lithium-ION batteries, reducing our weight by approximately 80kg. We will reduce the contents of the Badger; this will be quite an exercise. Neither of us is a light traveller.

We’ll collect our bicycles from storage, hitch them, and then fill our water and fuel tanks. Finally, we’ll weigh the truck in Worcester and set off on our fourth leg, marking the official start of our trek.

The past three months have been an exercise in resilience, with our patience, mental fortitude, frustrations, humour and relationships profoundly tested. Like the weight of water, it looks smooth, cool and life-giving, but in reality, it’s heavy. The butterfly has stirred the air.

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Tomorrow morning, we’ll say our last farewells to Bertus, Anna, and little Liam, my new best friend, companion, and joy. I hear him calling excitedly, “Butch, Butch,” as he hurries in from nursery school.