We survived the night at The Ferry on Gamtoos River but the morning brought no sun with it yet. We’d pack up slowly … very slowly.
By the time we were ready to drop the ablution key and take a drive to the skip to dispose of our black rubbish bag we’d been given at check-in, the sun had begun to break through the clouds. The slightest bit of sun and the day began to heat up.
It would be the old road and the pass up Gamtoos Hill but we decided to give the cycling muscles a bit of a break after the epic ride of the day before and rather run. We started out, 3km at a turn, and it was uphill. By the time we’d reached 10km we were nearing the first onramp onto the freeway. Suzann had already had somewhat of a scare with nearly stepping on a snake in the grass on the verge (one had to keep jumping off the tar for oncoming vehicles) so we decided to stop at 13km.
We could’ve got on the bikes again but the old road that led further towards Old Cape Road and into PE was very narrow and the vegetation had encroached on the tar quite a bit in places so we didn’t think it safe to cycle. Cycling alone would be OK but we had the vehicle behind and with narrow roads, twists and turns and no place to go with the vehicle, we didn’t want to risk another Robinson Pass episode … and the road was rather busy as everyone seemed to have decided to go for a Saturday drive out of the city.
This meant that we’d arrive fairly early at our uncle and aunt’s place where we were going to stay for the night. But again, it would also mean a relaxing afternoon and evening with family and a recharge for the road to Port Alfred.
We would leave early and have to drive the freeway passed Port Elizabeth and Coega, all the way passed Sunday’s River and Colchester. This strip was blue boards and one can’t cycle roads with blue boards. We didn’t want any trouble from the cops. So we decided to head for Nanaga, where we’d buy pies and then start cycling for Port Alfred … or that was the plan.
The good Lord had other plans in mind though and we’d not make it much further than about 10km on the bicycle. The easterly wind had come up and was blowing with a vengeance. Suzann had geared down into the small ring with the lightest gears available but still was not making headway. Then of course, the wind began to gust and that’s the worst kind of wind … a gusting wind. It takes you and pushes you where it wants you … even off the road into the ‘bossies’ on the verge. Being thrown around like a ragdoll in a hurricane was not our idea of fun, neither was it anywhere near safe, so we called it a day and Hamilton the Hilux got a turn to put in the k’s to Port Alfred.
Arriving early at Medolino would afford us the opportunity of a great cup of coffee and a good chat which was far better than slogging it out against an impossible wind. Ah, Medolino … can we stay forever please …