It is our last full day in South Africa. Who needs an alarm clock when there are hadeha birds around? Not us. We woke at 6. We'd been told that breakfast would be served at 8 so we packed our bags and took a quick stroll around the gardens. There is a memorial to Foy's wife in the garden, which is very touching.
I have to say that if you are looking at the pics of the bedrooms on the Penny Farthing website, they seem a bit old fashioned and dreary. They actually are incredibly comfortable and much nicer than they look on the site!
Breakfast for us was cereal, papaya and toast. We haven't really been eating cooked breakfasts - which is probably just as well, given some of the evening meals we've indulged in!
Foy told us that we would be driving our own car on the tour and so with him (and our heavy case) in the back, we set off down the dirt track. We dared not to criticise it as Foy proudly told us he'd built it all himself when he was a young man. As we went over the first big bump (there are lots of them - water pipes I assume) I felt the underneath of Gordon's car scrape the ground. I was very nervous that we'd wreck his car. I think the combined weight of Roy, myself, Foy (a big man) and the suitcase was a tad too much!
Back on the main road, I breathed a sigh of relief, until a few minutes later when Foy instructed me to turn left onto another dusty, stony track! There were chips flying up everywheree. Foy advised me to stay above 60kms per hour to "even out" the road. Actually, it works. Wish I'd learned this tip earlier in our holiday!
First, we stopped at Rorke's Drift. This is the scene of the film Zulu and Foy gave us a very detailed overview (using a scale model of the area) of the battles of Isandlwana and Rorke's Drift, and also what had happened at Fugitive's Drift. We then went to the rebuilt hospital at Rorke's Drift, where Foy gave us chapter and verse of that battle and how the 100+ English fought off 4000 Zulu Warriors. Fascinating. Details here, if you want them:
http://battlefields.kzn.org.za/battlefields/about/192.xml
Next, we drove across the Buffalo River to Isandlwana Hill. This, I think, is the most poignant battlefield of all. So many men killed in such a short space of time. Standing on a slope overlooking the hill and the battlefield below it, the sense of history is incredible. And just to see all the white stones marking mass graves makes you sad, and for the pacifists among us, also a bit angry at the waste of young lives.
Foy told us the story of the battle - all 1.5 hours of it - and then we headed back to Penny Farthing where we ate a picnic lunch before heading home. We were on the road by 2.30 - well in time to reach G&M's before dark.
We'd consulted with G before we set off and he'd recommended that we should NOT take the R33 route via Greytown. We checked our maps, and realised that to go back the way we came (via Dundee and Ladysmith) would add about 100kms to the trip. Ann had warned us off the R33 too - she said "I wouldn't use it, and I live here". Foy, however, was insistent that we use it - "You'll get to see proper rural Africa, Zulu villages and farms. You'll be fine, and it is a beautiful drive". Ann's final comment on the matter: "It's ok for him to say that - he speaks fluent Zulu so if he broke down in the middle of nowhere, he'd be fine".
What did we do? We took the R33 of course. Tempted by the shorter trip, and the promise of beautiful valleys and hills. We'd asked Foy if there were gas stations along the way. Oh yes, he'd said, you can fill up at Greytown - 100kms from Penny Farthing. Roy asked me on the way back from the Battlefields how much petrol we had left. I told him a quarter tank. Foy said that would be plenty to get us to Greytown.
So, with Roy driving, we were about 10kms from the house, when he challenged me on the petrol situation. "This is nowhere near a quarter tank" he said. Hmm. "Well I'm sure it was when I looked". So now we have a problem. We are effectively in the middle of nowhere and we have insufficient petrol to take us 100kms to Greytown. We have no idea where the nearest gas station is. But we know we're about to hit a town called Pomeroy, so there was bound to be some petrol there, wasn't there?
Actually - no, there wasn't. We did find a gas station and pulled in to find a queue of trucks there. Most of them brimming with workers, hanging out of every available inch of truck! Sitting in the front of our little Mazda 3, GPS in one hand, wallet in the other, camera round my neck and with two mobile phones in my lap - I started to feel that I was the focal point of every pair of eyes within 20 metres and ever so slightly uncomfortable. Then I noticed a sign saying "Diesel". I said to Roy that this was a diesel only station and so we had to drive off. Where is the next place? According to our map it was Tugela Ferry, I couldn't work out the distance, but it's a lot nearer than Greytown. I also couldn't tell how big a place it was.
So we climbed up some hills - Roy was coasting down them and the anxiety of not knowing if we would make it to a gas station was really spoiling our enjoyment of the fantastic scenery! I was silently trying to figure out a contingency plan if we did run out of fuel in the countryside. I didn't really have one. It was not a good time for Roy to advise me that the Fuel Warning indicator light had just come on.
Eventually, I started to notice the familiar "taxis" along the route. Not many of them, but I saw at least one white minibus pull in to drop somebody off. Ah ha, here is contingency. If we break down, we'll have to stand on the road, hail a taxi, get to Greytown, buy a can of fuel and get a taxi back to the car. Hardly ideal (and would probably take HOURS) but at least there is some sort of plan there.......
As we coasted down a really big hill, we started to see signs of Tugela Ferry in the distance. Oh - good news - it was looking like a fairly big place, and not just houses - some industrial looking buildings too. Surely there would be petrol here? Down and down the hill we dropped, and then all of a sudden, we hit a traffic jam! As we crawled round a bend, the anticipation was excruciating... finally we could see the main drag of the road as it went through town, but there were no gas station signs. Not one. Oh dear. We saw cafes, restaurants, shops - surely there is petrol here? Another bend in the road, and this time, as we came off it, there it was, in all it's red and yellow glory: SHELL. Ahhhhh... BIG sigh of relief, a bit of cheering and air punching and in we drove.
This was the best petrol station I've ever seen! Not only were there goats and chickens running around all over the forecourt, but there were ladies selling fruit and veg and all kinds of stuff along the edges and all along the roadside. Roy got out. Getting out of your car at the gas station here is totally unnecessary. In fact, filling up is a great experience because somebody comes and does it all for you. And while the tank is filling, they wash all the windscreens and wing mirrors too. All for a small (R5-R7) tip. I wish we had that in Britain! But he'd decided to get out and stretch his legs and chat to the attendant. I could hear him lying. "We're very tired, we've just driven from Johannesburg", he fibbed. What was all that about? According to Roy, he felt unsafe here (well, Ann had spent a while telling us how evil Tugela Ferry was) and so he'd decided that the best defence was to get out and be friendly and also go for the sympathy vote by claiming to be on a long road trip. Whatever!
In actual fact, we were merely a curiosity in Tugela Ferry. Lots of folk wandered past and peered into the car, but then just smiled, waved and passed on by. To be the only white faces in a town which clearly gets very few tourists, did not mean that we were threatened at all - just a novelty. The attendant came round to my door to chat to me. Actually, this was a feeble attempt at getting money. She told me that she'd heard we were flying to England tomorrow (Roy must have filled her in on our travel plans). Oh, she said, she'd LOVE to fly to England, but she had no money. She didn't quite have her hand stretched out toward me but the implication was clear. Well we could always swap, I said. You have my ticket and I'll stay here? She burst out laughing and wandered off.
So, with a full tank and peace of mind we left Tugela Ferry. NOW we could enjoy the stunning surrounds of the hills and valleys. Now we could marvel at the sheer number of people walking on the roads. I think school was just out so we were waved at by dozens of happy looking kids. Now we could appreciate how interesting the landscape was, and try to spot the "hills that look like elephants" that Foy had mentioned to us.
Women carry babies on their persons wrapped in towels. Around the waist, around their back. Sometimes more than one. And many women have umbrellas up to shade their heads from the sun. We also saw some people carrying goods on their heads - first time we'd seen this in southern Africa. And women gather reeds along the road - presumably for thatching, as a lot of the houses here are thatched roofs.
It was a beautiful drive down to Pietermaritzburg, where we picked up the N3 motorway. At times, it looked and felt like England. But soon we knew we were in Africa as we saw the sun setting over the hills behind us. We drove into G&M's drive at 5.40 - good timing! Had a quick chat and then got showered and changed as we're taking G&M out for dinner tonight.
We went to La Strada - an Italian in Hillcrest, about 10 mins drive away. I drove tonight.
http://www.restaurants.co.za/details.asp?resId=3976
We shared a pizza bread with various cheeses (including Gorgonzola) on top. It was delicious. Then we all had Fillet steak (apart from Gordon who had a chicken salad) and that was also excellent. Then home, for coffee and a chat. We had a VERY late night tonight - 11pm.
