The “Wild” Coast

(225 kms)

S 31° 37’ 21” – E 29°32’ 73”

I left Uvongo at 7.45am, with a strong on-shore wind buffeting me. It had been a very emotional farewell, my parents wanting me to at least spend Christmas with them… I rode past Ramsgate, Marina Beach and San Lameer, on to Port Edward, before crossing the bridge over the Mtamvuma River which used to be the border of the old Transkei. With the wind playing havoc, I motored on past the Wild Coast Sun, before turning inland for Bizana, where I refueled. Despite it being a Sunday, Bizana was crowded with pedestrians and vehicles, reminiscent of market day in Lagos! Scant respect was paid to traffic, as people crossed and re-crossed the main road, carrying all manner of goods for sale to the passing buses and taxis. This was a taste of what was to come once I crossed into Zambia and traveled further north…

From there the road took me past Flagstaff (another Market day in full swing!) and on to Lusikisiki, where I stopped to buy the Sunday Times and a soda. Just before this, I nearly had my first “off”, when a pick-up crossed the road without apparently noticing me motoring towards him. I smoked the back tyre trying to avoid him, having tramped down on the back brake as well as letting the ABS do it’s thing… I stopped with my front wheel on the very edge of a deep concrete culvert… This little incident helped focus me, as up until then I had been enjoying the scenery of rolling green hills and neat settlements which dotted the hillsides…

The last stretch from Lusikisiki to Port St Johns wound and twisted it’s way through beautiful countryside, which after a short while I had to ignore, as the road surface was quite bad in many places and I had to keep my wits about me to avoid leaving the road on one of the many hairpin bends which litter this section. I would have liked to ride this road again, without a line of four taxis behind me, all trying desperately to overtake me in places where Schumacher wouldn’t have dared!!

I saw the sign to the lodge which Volke had arranged for me to stay at, but rode past it and into the little town of Port St Johns, to see what it was all about….Answer: Not much!! I did however see a KFC, which elevated this little hamlet ever so slightly in my estimations… I tried to send an “Update SMS” to those who were following my intrepid adventures, but was advised that there had been no signal here for a few days. I rode back towards the lodge and met with Don Southey, who I vaguely remember from some distant past. I was offered a place to pitch my tent, OR, a bed in one of the rooms attached to the main house, which was being used by a guy who worked as a barman at one of the other lodges. Naturally, being the great outdoorsman that I am, I settled for the room in the house without any qualms… whatsoever!! Besides…it looked like rain…

The Jetty River Lodge is situated on the northern bank of the Mzimvubu River, just before you cross the Pondoland Bridge. It has a swimming pool, which I made immediate use of, and a few wooden bungalows scattered between huge indigenous trees. From what I could tell, there were many rooms attached to a central area. The rooms were rented out to people who then congregated on the wide verandah facing the river, to enjoy their self-catered-for meals. And drinks…lots of them… This was a “party place”…!

By late afternoon, there was still no cell phone signal, and after having a quiet nap, I decided to ride out onto the plateau on the road to Mthatha, to see if I could get a signal. After about 30 kms, I managed to find a lay-by, where I tried again and successfully made contact with the outside world…

The Jetty River Lodge, Port St Johns

At about 6.00pm, “mission communicate” completed, I headed back to town to rustle up something to eat. I stopped at the “NEWS” Restaurant (North, East, West, and South…go figure!) and ordered a burger, chased down with a litre of Coke… I was clearly thirsty! While I was waiting for the food to be prepared, thunder and lightning made it clear that BIG rain was on the way. Once I had been served, I wolfed the meal down, one eye on my plate (to avoid chewing on geckos that periodically dropped down onto the table from the ceiling above me) and the other on the dark storm clouds blowing towards us from the west…

By the time I had paid the bill, kitted up and got the bike started, it was pitch dark, and drizzling lightly…Great stuff! Working my way past crawling buses and mobile disco’s (taxis), I quickly made my way back inland to the turnoff to Lusikisiki, crossed the Pondoland Bridge, and turned right down the dirt track which leads to the lodge…

The heavens opened just as I parked the bike on the little verandah outside the room I would be sharing with the “barman who works in town somewhere”… I had not met my “room-mate” as yet, but judging from the size of the underpants drying in the bathroom, he must be at least seven foot tall, and probably weighed in at roughly 200kg’s by my reckoning… Should be interesting, I thought to myself…!!

With thunder booming outside, and rain nailing the tin roof above me, I settled down to await the arrival of my mysterious room-mate… Not knowing which of the four beds he used placed me in a bit of a quandary… I chose the bed closest to the door, purely for tactical reasons… If I had to do a “runner” I didn’t want any furniture getting in my way!!

Dusk at the “N.E.W.S.”, calm before the storm…

Turned out, I needn’t have worried. “Stewart” finally arrived back at the room, introduced himself and then invited me to join the “gang” for a drink and a game of poker. Two tables had been set up in the dining area just off the verandah, and a rather serious Poker School was in session by the time I had made my way around to the front of the house. I counted 18 players, mostly Americans, who were either working in various lodges in the area, or were volunteers assisting Luke with projects to uplift the community… Some of them looked as though they had come straight from the swamps of Louisiana, hillbilly country… Tattoos and piercings adorned nearly every man-jack of them… (And woman-jack!) I made a mental note not to mess with any of them, especially the women, whose use of the coarser words of the English language easily matched that of the men…

Next to many of the players, lay their “stash”…pure Transkei Gold… and between hands, many a joint was rolled and passed around. I watched as one of the players, holding a pair of Jacks, with another one showing on the table, and the two River Cards still unsighted, throw in his hand in apparent disgust!! I knew then that Poker and Pot were not an intelligent mix… To prove my point, the hand was won with two pairs; fives and sevens… The player who had discarded the Jacks did not bat an eyelid! Clearly he had been at his stash since mid-afternoon… I would have loved to get a photo of this gathering, but I realized it would have caused a mini riot, as there was enough contraband on the tables to see us all in prison for what might have been a very long time….

At 1.00am, I carefully made my way back to my room, plugged my I-pod into my ears and drifted off to sleep to the sounds of Enigma.

The Spotted Grunter resort, across the Umzimvubu River and The Jetty…

The “Big Fella” gets a look in….

© 2008 TBMH