It was time to pack up at Melkbos and move to Stellenbosch. We’d just about done the entire distance there the day before and decided not to be too nit-picky about completing every km, so we dressed in clothes (not cycle gear) and drove to the Mountain Breeze Caravan Park just outside Stellenbosch … very civilized. But not before we made a stop at the mall for a shop. Steak and chips was on the menu that night. We’d also get another opportunity to hand out four Bibles and a whole handful of booklets to the friendly petrol jockeys in Melkbos.
Assailed by another thermometer touting receptionist (Suzann just held her arm up as she came for the forehead) we finally got booked in at the campsite in the last remaining bit of pine forest between all the vineyards of the surrounding wine farms.
But then … another uh-oh … we’d forgotten to buy toilet paper and the ablutions were not equipped with that ‘white gold’. We did have a bit on a roll in the back of the vehicle and then discovered some in the cubby-hole so we thought we ought to be OK. Otherwise there was always kitchen towel. At least we had a whole roll of that. Failing that, there was also a roll of disposal dish cloths, and then of course, dirty socks … But we didn’t need to go that far and our TP lasted. It had more staying power than us because after a quick recce to Somerset West and the Strand, we quickly decided to port through rather than attempt to cycle between all those cars. And the people of the Strand and Gordon’s Bay were no less impatient than the Capetonians proper.
With that bit axed, the long ride to Gansbaai looked shorter and so we decided to take it on in one fell swoop. This left us with another day at Mountain Breeze. We should’ve been cheered with the extra rest but instead Suzann got very ‘antsy’ as the long afternoon drew on. She started complaining of claustrophobia under all the dark pines. Maybe she was just bored with the forced inactivity. We’d fried up a storm for breakfast and then washed up a storm before lunch but by the time the afternoon arrived she’d exhausted her options as chief cook and bottle washer.
Too much down time can be a curse because then one just gets enough time to start questioning what you are actually trying to do. Inevitably it leads to feeling sorry for yourself because, of course, no-one else seems to care … Just when the pity party was about to relocate inside the tent to get out of the icy evening, the lady from the caravan behind us decided to go and tap water just opposite our site. Spontaneously she began to chat and, hearing of our endeavours, began encouraging us no end. What a difference when God sends an angel in a white gown to the tap with a bucket in her hand …