Two Nights In Strandfontein A Reflection

I’ve been to Strandfontein twice before and enjoyed myself thoroughly on both occasions. Once with dear friends from the UK who were our frequent travelling companions during the summer months when they were Swallows to our shores.

On the last trip, we wild-camped for a night in the picnic area on the beachfront. That was exciting, with an element of danger. Would we be allowed to stay, or would the law turn up and shoo us away? They didn’t. We slept like lambs.

We stayed at the Horse Shoe Campsite and spent two nights there. Two nights is my preferred minimum duration of a stay, and it gives us time to relax after a long drive. The following day we would explore on foot or our bicycles, and then I (she who suffers from FOMO) needed to do some exploring with my real camera and not with the point-and-shoot iPhone. Although very convenient, I prefer the quality of DSLR photography.

The  Horses Shoe Campsite is situated a few hundred yards from the beach, has an unsurpassed view of the ocean, is large and offers a few options, e.g. we had our own ablutions. We felt safe, and there weren’t many campers. The only sound we heard was the crashing of the waves rolling onto the shoreline.  While waiting for my laundry tub to fill up with water for my rinse I did spot some pretty flowers between the cracks. Sometimes we need to focus our attention away from the big picture and see the small things

It was a perfect Saturday afternoon, hot, sunny and wind-free. A beach day. This would be our second or third “summer’s day”. Wearing a bather wasn’t an option for me yet. Digging it out of my swollen cupboard would be a challenge I wasn’t emotionally ready for yet, but I slipped into my Mr Price flip-flops and went slap-slap down to the beach.

Hundreds of weekenders and day-trippers were having a fabulous time on the beach. The picnic area on the embankment was covered in a patchwork of blankets, deck chairs, and cooler boxes, spilling with delicious drinks, salads and snacks. The festive air stirred summer feelings and immediately put a spring in my step. I couldn’t wait to put my feet into the icy west coast waters.

Children built sand castles and kicked rugby balls, and bigger boys played cricket—the sound of a ball striking willow echoing. One little boy was so excited he shouted, “aunty, it’s so lekker you should swim too!” while he spluttered, rubbing his fists into his eyes to dry them. A little jumping Jack covered in goose bumps, his blue lips chattering. Adorable. His excitement was palpable.

The walk back to the campsite would, for someone not keen to walk, be an uphill and could account for the lack of visitors while the campsite adjacent to the beach was chock-a-block.

On my return, I did a recce of the facilities and found them wanting. I think the general ablutions were out of order, very neglected indeed.

We didn’t go for our usual ride or walk on Sunday morning. Instead, I did some tidying and general housekeeping. We were starting to find our feet in the Honey Badger. A few unnecessary items were disposed of, and some loose storage boxes were emptied, making our space livable again. A cluttered small area can lead to injuries and tempers flaring.

Happy sounds from the beach soon had me flinging on my hat and loading my camera. I would spend a few hours on the beach walking while my laundry dried in the gentle breeze.

The coast is magnificent, with changing landscapes around every cove. The rocky cliffs, boulders, and beaches ranging from fine sand, shiny pebbles or boulders jutting into the sky. I turned after a 7km walk. Although much of the walk was solitary, I was never completely alone and felt safe being a  solo walker.

I collect things on walks, feathers, bones, rocks, and small ocean debris; those are my momentos. When we packed up our lives, I had to discard kilograms of my memory keepers. Although extremely difficult, I’m forcing myself to look, touch and smell but not to pocket anything! I love a flat, smooth pebble that fits snugly into my palm or gripped, my index finger encircling the stone. It's weight, size and smoothness determining how it will skip and skim over water. On leaving the beach, I emptied my pockets of a few stones. Old habits die hard.

Living in close quarters has its challenges. We have to adapt and share living and personal space. Butch and I, although we’ve lived together for twenty years very comfortably, have had to adjust our use of space. Everything, personal, emotional or straightforward, like a sock, must have its place. I recall the poster in our Domestic Science class, “A place for everything and everything in its place.”

Being creatures of habit and routine, we’ve had to compromise, adjust and learn new tricks of co-habitation. Not always easy. Opposites attract, but I have always maintained that the more couples have in common, the easier it is to live together and get along. We have much in common, but our personalities are entirely different. I’ve got a lot of Italian, Gipsy and Irish blood pumping in my veins. My mouth rules before my brain can catch up. Butch is a lawyer, and I rest my case!

While walking on the beach, I pondered these questions and realised I must adapt but not doubt myself; I must believe in my convictions, be authentic, and be decerning. Sometimes I must/can step away and recognise the circumstances surrounding events and dismiss, step back and reserve my opinion. We all have bad hair days, but my bad hair day can’t rub off to become someone else’s indaba. Taking responsibility, being respectful, considerate, accommodating and thoughtful. We must change old, bad habits and not be too pedantic or set in our ways. Old dogs must learn new tricks to grow. 

We will survive this journey together. We are doing well, but we need to be more forgiving, sympathetic and compassionate of ourselves and each other at times. We all deserve a heartfelt “sorry”! Gilly knows.

The ozone of the ocean did us well, and we were ready to resume  our journey north. Groenrivier in the Namaqua National Park was our next destination.If I ever have the opportunity to visit Strandfontein I would prefer the caravan park closest to the beach.