It should have been relatively painless and taken somewhere between 7 and 10 hours, however, to anyone who knows the Eastern Cape coastal route through the old Transkei, this journey took considerably longer than anticipated. It was over 12 hours and by the time we reached our destination it was closer to 14 hours on the road! It’s not something I’d do often, considering that the flying time to Port Elizabeth from Durban is little over 1 hour, if at all.
The majority of valuable driving time was taken up early on with the Transkei roads, which are not always the best and even then, you need to watch for stray cattle and bad driving. At times there is complete disregard for the law and some comfort was given when two vehicles decided to overtake our convoy of 10 vehicles, stuck behind a 22 wheeler struggling up one of the hills, on a blind rise and corner on a double solid line. They were quickly chased and pulled over by the traffic police who regularly monitor the roads for law breakers in KwaZulu-Natal, who have a zero tolerance attitude to law breakers on the road.
I had forgotten the sheer beauty of the countryside between Durban and Port Elizabeth, even though the last section of driving from (Mtata) King William’s Town through Grahamstown to PE was after dark, the sense of visual stimulation changed to a feeling of complete freedom on an open road where you felt you were on your own, without any lights showing the way. City scapes changed to coastal towns which were left behind by rolling hills which kept on climbing to where another life exists.
Up in these mountains, which were the former homelands of a past life, small towns are a hive of activity. Much of this would be missed, if it weren’t for the N2 national road passing though them. These towns, which time forgot, with the exception of a bank, have an intricate system of organised chaos, where cars have no priority. Market traders line the street, where you can even buy chickens and goats, and happily coexist with other shops. One may have expected to experience a sense of uneasiness being in such an environment, however you only feel that you’re an intrusion into their daily life.
Some people look at this life and feel a sense of responsibility to the simple way of life. Whilst I agree that there is poverty in certain instances, our western way of life which we’ve dictated to the world can sometimes cloud our judgement as to our beliefs and values as opposed to their way of life. If you look at it from a different perspective, their sense of freedom far outweighs the rigid lifestyle to which we conform
By late afternoon the mountains had made way for rolling hills, a change of crop from sugar cane to maize and rivers coloured iron meandering towards the ocean. Villages disappeared but the odd houses still dotted the landscape
After dusk it was time for urban legends about driving on the open road in South Africa. I recalled some of the stories which were told when I was younger about cars which would appear and then mysteriously disappear from the nightscape, without trace. Others which I remembered was a time warp which people experienced on the R63 road somewhere around the Robertson area. That could be explained by the town being isolated and not yet having running water. Seriously though, we were in hysterics when the urban legend came up as I flashed my brights to make out a car ahead with no rear lights. There was no reason to hang around and wait to see if there was any truth to be found!
Several calls later to Fiona at the Victorian Villa, we had decided that we’d ruined her evening and let our vivd imaginations run wild, much to our amusement. A few times I was in fits of stitches and even crying with laughter. To the songs that were sung, lyrics which were changed and loves of dreams; there are too many to remember but will be remembered with fondness.
We arrived at the Victorian Villa Guest Manor in Port Elizabeth some time after 22:00 - or 23:00, where Fiona was thankfully waiting for us. We checked in quickly, showered and fell into bed. I don’t even recall touching the pillow, only that I was swaying on my feet before climbing under the sheets.
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