Good Times, Good People

Baz Bussing (Stops #2-3)

(The) Wilderness, April 16-19

I am tempted to make all sorts of lame jokes about being "lost" in the wilderness and describing imaginary up-close encounters with wild wooly beasts in the dark, impenetrable forest but, truthfully, Wilderness is, in fact, a "tame" little coastal village that can best be summarized with the word C.H.I.L.L.

I arrived via Baz Bus at my accommodation, the Fairy Knowe Backpackers (review to follow), in the late afternoon, and was immediately made welcome by one of its managers, Benjamin, a decidedly gregarious and witty chap with whom I grew quite fond in the days to follow. Probably because he was such an absolute joy to rib/tease!

There are a couple of nice hikes one can do around Wilderness; the first is a relatively short but extremely scenic one along an abandoned railway line which used to link Wilderness to the popular surfing hamlet, Victoria Bay. I had some company during this walk - an Indian fellow named Stanley (Say what?!?). I did not particularly care for the guy but when he asked to tag along, I just didn't have the heart to rudely deny him the pleasure of my company (cough, cough) so...yeah.

We walked the tracks dodging ghost trains and pooping sea gulls and, despite the overcast sky, I was blown away by the beauty in my surroundings. Stanley did most of the talking with me interjecting comments here and there, but I found him such a self-absorbed, socially inept bore really. Do I sound a tad bitchy? Well, what if I tell you about how I was subjected to his nearly 10-minute long diatribe about the awfulness of American customs officers? Umm, DUH dude! I (already) know it. You (clearly) know it. Hell, the whole world (since September 11th) knows it!! But, and this "but" is waaaaay bigger than Kim Kardashian's, there is not a damn thing I can do about it so can you please spare me?!

Yikes! Sorry for the rant. Back to my train trekking tale...

Perhaps the most interesting thing about this coastal walk was being invited into the cave dwelling of Clifford, a religious hippie. His "home" is indeed an actual cave to which, according to him, he was led by the literal word of God over 5 years ago. He quietly and intensely relayed his tale while sitting on an oval rug in the front parlour of his (bat) cave and I truly tried to absorb all that he was telling us but it was difficult to focus on his words as his voice was so incredibly soft, soothing and, dare I say it, effeminate. If he was not actually a homosexual, then my apologies for my faulty gaydar, but his feminine manner and incredible knack for interior cave design leads me to believe that my suspicions are correct. Unfortunately, I fear that his days squatting in that cave are numbered; all it takes is one greedy developer to swoop in. Am I right or am I right?

The other notable hike near Wilderness is the Brownhooded Kingfisher Trail (5km loop) which follows the course of the Duiwe River ending at a lovely pool and waterfall where many a hiker has been known to break out a 6-pack or picnic basket. Me? I did neither.

Before I move on to my next Bas Bus stop, I feel compelled to praise my accommodation- the Fairy Knowe Backpackers. This hostel, along with a handful of others at which I have stayed, is certain to make my Top 10 list once this RTW trip is dead and done. And the funny thing is? I am not exactly sure why! I mean its dorm was decent but not particularly exceptional (No electrical outlets in the dorm!), its showers were fairly clean but prone to uninvited critters like frogs and mosquitoes and the licensed bar on its premises had the audacity to run out of red wine on the second day I was there. So why all the love and appreciation for the Fairy Knowe?! I guess it all boils down to the people (Benjamin, you charming rascal!), the animals (a couple of cuddly cats and an awfully pugnacious puppy) and the idyllic location. It.just.was.awesome.

Knysna, April 19-21

Awwwww Knysna. Sorry to have to tell you this but there were only two things which proved memorable about Knysna-firstly, the sight of pigs foraging through the garden of my hostel as well as wandering the side streets digging up dirt. Apparently, these pigs lived in the township that lay just over the hillside but were allowed to roam freely and cause havoc in the streets without fear of being (literally) hog-tied or slaughtered.

The second memorable thing about this town was meeting two incredibly cool and down-to-earth South Africans, a brother/sister tag team named Tarryn and Matt who hailed from Durban. Tarryn had just gotten a new job working for an animal rescue centre in Knysna, or something along those lines, and her younger bro' Matt had tagged along in order to help her find a place to live and then move in her worldly belongings once the perfect place had been secured. We were all sleeping in the same dorm room at the Knysna Backpackers and got to chatting the second night. It turned into one of those comfortable conversations that are truthful, interesting and hilarious all at the same time and last into the wee hours of the night. I find it increasingly rare as I grow older and more cynical about humanity-at-large that I meet people such as this and really "click" with them, you know? And I am sure that they felt the same way based on the hugs we all exchanged the following morning when we parted ways. I guess it is reassuring to know that there are still people who can make such a positive impact upon me.

So I would like to lift my glass of wine in tribute to Tarryn and Matt and wish them all the very best that life has to offer, be it in Knysna, Durban, Zanzibar, or wherever the road may lead them. Keep it real and groovy, my friends!