Nuts, bolts and me

Schoongezicht Hike

2011-08-14T20:14:00.005+02:00

Well the hike has come and gone and a great time was had and an exciting time was had by all. We left Johannesburg at about 4pm and I took a slightly wrong route and so ended up with an extra 30mins of driving going through Rustenburg and then then N4 toll route which is a hell drive in the dark. South Africans have the worst driving habits in the world and there were some really scary overtaking manouvres being performed around us.

We heard later that there were some really serious accidents later that evening one of which involved a jack-knifed truck and a car that drove into it. Thankfully we were ahead of the chaos - and no, we did not cause the chaos!

The farm consisted of an old farmhouse, two rondavels and another complex of four bedrooms and a kitchen situated alongside the farmhouse.

Shirley, Loren (our daughter) and I took a lovely six kilometre hike on the Saturday morning after breakfast. The farm is a working cattle farm and also a game farm and we saw some lovely game; impala, wildebeest, mountain buck and great bird life.

Saturday evening was dramatic. Someone running the farm had decided that safe electrical connections were not the order of the day and had rigged up a potentially lethal connection that nearly killed Shirley. She was so badly shocked that she was unconcious for about five minutes and in pain for a lot longer than that. Praise the Lord that Shirley has a strong heart otherwise she would have died with the amount of current that went through her!

This meant that on Sunday we did a short four kilometre hike instead of the long 17 km one. This allowed Loren and me to really explore our photography skills and we experimented to our hearts content amoungst some great scenery. Thank goodness for digital cameras; I can't imagine what it would have cost in the days of 35mm spools!

On the Sunday afternoon we painted and then sculptured with clay and really used our artistic skills (or lack thereof).

I'll include photos a bit later as it's getting late and time for sleep.

Thanks for reading and sharing in our experiences.

Another weekend another hike

2011-07-31T15:41:00.013+02:00

Wow, just finished a 15 km hike in 4 hours in a small game reserve not far from Johannesburg. Very dry and very dusty but stunning. Went with a friend Emlyn and about 60 other people and broken up into groups.

I must admit that this was a very hectic walk and at a fast pace and now I'm paying the price. Not only am I exhausted but my right knee is extremely painful. I'll have to get it ready though for next week when Shirley and I will be doing the Schoongezicht hike and that will be two days of walking. Come on knee get better!

Here are some pics of the wild life we saw and of the hike.

These giraffe were awesome. They watched us then ran off and much later came back around for another look at us.

Another weekend another hike

2011-07-31T15:41:00.012+02:00

Here are some pics of the wild life we saw and of the hike.

These giraffe were awesome. They watched us then ran off and much later came back around for another look at us.

Mateke Hike

2011-07-26T20:50:00.004+02:00

Mateke is a game reserve near Rooiberg and close to Thabazimbi. This is a beautiful part of the bushveld which I love to go to. The temperatures for the weekend were great with a cold minimum of around 3C and the maximum around 25C.

What a wonderful weekend hike this turned out to be. It was quite a long drive which I hitched along with friends Peter and Claudette in their vehicle. There is a fuel strike on the go and fortunately their vehicle uses diesel and so could easily make it there and back on a full tank it needed. We arrived there as the sun set on Friday and left mid-morning on Sunday.

Being winter there was not a lot of bird life although I did see a spectacular malachite kingfisher. The most fascinating thing on the hike was seeing a group of about twenty insect eating plants. They are bright scarlet and about 2 centimetres in diameter. This is the first time I have seen such plants in their natural habitat and did not know they occurred here in South Africa. They are truly amazing little plants.

The hike was an easy 13 kilometre round trip which took about 5 hours at a very leisurely pace as one of the hikers was not fit at all.

This is a place to see again and a definite must for the hot summer. The streams will be fantastic for coling off from the high summer temperatures.

New hike coming up

2011-07-16T11:32:00.003+02:00

Next weekend I'll be on a hike in Mateke. If you look at the following co-ordinates S24°17’13.63” E27°39’07.92” on Google Earth you'll see where I'll be. This area is Shirley's and my favourite place. It's in the beautiful bushveld area of South Africa and just a little west of the Waterberg Mountains which we love so very much.

Although it's winter here in the southern hemisphere this is a warm part of the country at this time of the year. Night temperatures though will plummet to around 3º Celsius from day time temperatures of about 20º C.

I'm doing some training in gym to get my fitness levels and strength up a bit but I fear I've fallen into too little too late as usual.

I'll be taking pictures which I'll post here once I've returned.

Take a hike :)

2011-03-16T18:36:00.003+02:00

Yesterday Shirley and I had no work and although thunderstorms were forecast we decided to take a hike in Mountain Sanctuary Park. Even though it's pretty close 55 kilometres as the crow flies it's a 2 hour journey to get there. The last piece of road is pretty rough and thank goodness for the Land Rover.

The forecast was correct but the thunderstorms only arrived at 5 o'clock so we had a fantastic day hiking and swimming in the crystal clear mountain streams and then Shirley painted whilst I pottered around with the camera.

We saw some huge baboons and then on the way home some amazing buffaloes.

What a great day. Wish we could do it everyday.

Australia

2010-09-12T13:03:00.003+02:00

Lats Tuesday Shirley and I arrived back after three wonderful weeks in Perth, Australia. This was my first occasion to leave Africa and what an eye opener to see how the first world live. We stayed with our friends, Paul and Debbie, and Shirley's sister Ivy. Paul and I were in the British South Africa Police together in what was once upon a time called Rhodesia. That seems like such a long time ago now.

Paul and Debbie and Ivy went out of their way to show us so much of Western Australia and there was not a day that went by without us seeing new things. It is beyond words to describe friends (and family) like this. It is a blessing that I wish everyone could experience.

There is so much to share about our experiences in Oz and wonderful photos that I'll have to take time to arrange it methodically and share here.

Until then, see you mate ;)

Bad at keeping up todate

2010-01-16T05:05:00.003+02:00

I'm definitely bad at keeping things up todate on my blog. So much has happened and there would have been so much to share, but should I make a New Year resolution and say I'll blog more? No way. New Year resolutions are seldom kept; everybody knows that.

My trip to Mozambique with Marc in July was really amazing. We stayed in some really out of the way places that tourists to Mozambique would not be going to. I love that country. I felt safe wherever I went. The officials were friendly. The people were friendly. The countryside was stunning. The food was fantastic. We travelled up to the mighty Zambezie River at Tete and then travelled south and then back north to the northern side of the Zambezi River again but this time further east crossing at Caia and then heading up to Morumbala which is not that far from Malawi in fact.

In contrast to Mozambique I hated every minute of the journey through Zimbabwe. I detested the corruption of the officials. I detested the attitude of the police at the ever-present roadblocks which are not more than 80 kilometres apart. I was saddened by the depression of the people. Mugabe and ZanupPF have destroyed the will to live in the people. There is just no joy or happiness in them. In the thirty years Mugabe has been in power he has done more than destroy a country. He has destroyed people. No wonder nobody tries to oust him. They just have lost the inner will to live.

I was arrested at one of the roadblocks! When it was aparant that they could not get a bribe from me for anything wrong with my vehicle or paperwork they trumped up some charges about it being illegal to wear camoflage in Zimbabwe and my Land Rover Owners Club hat (with embroidery on it nog al) was the offending item. A lot of talking and then against all my principles the changing hands of money led to my release. Being ex-Rhodesian and a member of the Police in those former times I did not fancy them finding this out and adding trumped up terrorism charges to the pot. I rather fancied being able to be free to return to South Africa!

Every roadblock was a constant search and demand for bribes. It made then trip unbearable. I was dreading the return trip which I knew had to happen. Most of the return was at night and in the rain which made travelling extremely dangerous but at least the roadblocks were a little easier to manage because the police have no torches with which to check your papers and vehicle. I did get caught for speeding which was entirely my fault. There is one section of road which is really in the middle of nowhere and the 100 km/h zone drops to 60 km/h. They always trap there. I have never been through Zimbabwe and the police haven't sat there trapping. But it was just dusk and it was raining and I thought their bed would call them more strongly than their call of duty. I was wrong!

Getting out of Zimbabwe into Mozambique was also a battle between me and a corrupt border official looking for a bribe. Marc had been cleared as had I and then I was stopped at the boom and for about fifteen minutes played cat and mouse with this official. He stated the wood, which is part of the construction of my roof rack, required a clearance certificate because there might be wood borer beetles. I told him this was surely a bit late because any beetles would have got out somewhere between Beit Bridge and Mutare and any that might be left were now headed for Mozambique which was less than 50 metres in front of me. When he insisted on a certificate I then played his game and said he should tell me where I could get one. "Ah" he said " it could take you a long time to get the certificate."

"No problem" I said. "Just tell me where"

"But it could take two or three days" he said.

"No problem" I said. "I'll visit Mutare and explore the area while I wait."

After 15 minutes of this bantering he eventually realised that I was not going to part with any money and then said I could go. Then he asked outright what did I have to give him. It took all my self-control to say only "nothing".

Mozambique arrived and saved my mind and my soul.

Mozambique here I come

2009-06-18T06:27:00.002+02:00

Well it's been ages since I've posted on this blog. I've been incredibly busy with work and going places. In April last year did a fantatic long trip to the coast of Mozambique with friends and family. Have been into the Waterberg I don't know how many times and have just been all over. Shirley's been away overseas and we're going to have a big birthday bash for her next month in Lindani Game Reserve for her big 50.

Next week I'm off to Mozambique for about 10 days to do some radio instalations with a friend, Marc, who has asked me to help him. This will entail driving through Zimbabwe and then into Mozambqiue and heading far north to Tete. I'm really looking forward to it. Makes a break from my driving training and the best part is I'm getting paid to assist him.

Shirley's also having fun and she's off to Clarens this weekend with a friend and hope she dresses warm because the nights in Clarens at this time of year are really cold.

I must not allow this blog to be neglected like I have and must post often although I won't be able to until I return from Moz.

Lesotho Part Three

2008-12-06T04:33:00.015+02:00

Well the time arrived a week later for Mike and I to head for Lesotho with a new master cylinder to fetch my beloved and stricken Land Rover. Friday night at the witching hour was when the two of us headed out from Johannesburg. It was going to be a single minded mission of drive in, repair and drive out. No sight-seeing, just stick to the job at hand.

This was going to be a long drive! Land Rovers are not comfortable vehicles at the best of times. Mike's Land Rover was made ten years before mine in 1959. It has no sides and only a canvas roof. There is no heater, no air conditioning (actually one could probably say there is a lot of air conditioning), no radio and definitely no speed. We wrapped up and headed steely (or should I say aluminiumly) south towards Kwa-Zulu Natal and then enter Lesotho via Sani Pass. The trip was uneventful and as we started to rise up through the Drakensberg Mountains towards Lesotho we encountered quite thick mist. As we rounded a bend we came across a delivery truck lying on its side with one occupant lying next to the vehicle and another walking around. We stopped to help and made sure that the injured person was kept warm and then after phoning for an ambulance continued on our way south.

Coffee was being drunk by the gallon as Mike determinedly aimed his Landy towards Sani. The steady progress (Mike travells at a constant GPS speed of 72 km/h) meant we should get to St James by Saturday afternoon if the looming clouds did not drop its load of rain and make the dirt roads we were now on slippery. The border crossing when surprisngly effortlessly. In Africa border crossings can be maddingly lengthy and frustrating. As we headed through the numerous mountain passes towards St James Lodge the clouds became heavier and lower and more threatening. My fear was that not only would the rain delay us but I would have to repair the vehicle in the pouring rain.

At three o'clock on Saturday afternoon we drove in to St James Lodge and I was rewarded with the most beautiful sight imaginable - a complete and undamaged Basil. By now one could almost reach up and touch the clouds. Mike suggested a beer. I suggested work and then a beer. I was concerned about the impending rain. Sipho greeted us warmly and then we got the repairs going with the hard-earned alcoholic refreshment dangling like a carrot before us. Exactly half an hour later the master cylinder was in place and the brakes bled. Basil had brakes again. As I started the engine to tentativley drive and test the brakes the few drops of rain started to fall.

Mike had the fire started for a braai and loaded the wood on to keep it burning through the now torrential rain. How he did this I can still only marvel at. Not only did he keep it going but managed to cook a gourmet meal on the fire of fillet steak, mielies (corn), baked potatoes and pork ribs.

Sipho advised us that the lodge had run out of water. I decided a good way to really test Basil's brakes would be to tow the trailer with water container and petrol driven pump down the mountain to the river and back. The brakes worked perfectly and at the river as much as we tried we could not get the engine to start to pump water and eventually surrended and returned up the mountain empty-handed. After the long drive and now cold driving rain there would be no hot shower.

Oh well there was plenty of Captain Morgan rum to warm the cockles of our hearts. The three of us tucked into a feast and had a fantastic evening talking and eating and drinking.

The morning dawned and the rain had not abated. I had not seen so much rain in a long time. The roads were now going to be great fun for us in the Land Rovers and we relished the thought of tackling the muddy mountain passes. This was afterall what Land Rovers were designed for. We bade farewell to Sipho and some of local children who were at the St James Mission School as we drove through and headed for the first mountain pass. As we drove I spotted a vehicle that had left the road unceremoniously and ended up halfway down the mountain. These roads are not for sissies! Not long thereafter the snow began falling. This was mind blowing for me. Snow twice in two weeks. It was October and now officially summer and it was snowing! True to form Mike and I stopped in the snow for a beer. We were at the top of one of the highest passes in Lesotho and the snow was driving down and you guessed it here comes a local sheep herder to beg. Mike was feeling very amenable and gave him a blanket and then he still has the audacity to now ask for money. The Basotho can make me lose patience!A very new South African Land Cruiser drove past and the occupants looked the these two ancient Land Rovers and two very strange looking people drinking beer in the snow and hurried on by.

We stopped for something to eat and drink at Sani Hotel and while sitting in the bar who should arrive but the Land Cruiser. Again some strange looks which makes us smile and really enjoy ourselves. For those who don't know Mike you won't know his laugh. Mike doesn't just laugh. He LAUGHS with not only a capital L but all capitals. You can hear him across the loudest and most raucus pub. Anyway time to leave and we head for Sani Pass. We go through customs and head down the snaking hairpin bends. As I round one of the hairpins I see Mike standing in the road cradling a boulder in his arms. I stop at the side and Mike wedges the boulder in front of the wheels of my Land Rover and he laughingly announces we have to have a beer and enjoy the view. So there we are looking ever like to hobos and, yes you guessed it, The Land Cruiser drives past. By now Mike and I are nearly rolling on the floor from the looks of disbelief from the Cruiser occupants. Oh well they just don't know how much fun a forty and fifty year old Land Rover can give you.

Once we reached to the bottom of the pass it was head down and Joburg bound where we arrived on Monday after sleeping over a bed and breakfast establishment in the foothills of the Drakensberg mountains.

What a trip and what a true friend. Mike epitomises the spirit of a Land Rover owner. Thanks Mike and cheers.

Lesotho; Part Two

2008-04-22T18:19:00.015+02:00

I mentioned Mount Morosi (also spelt Moorosi) in my previous post on Lesotho and here is a bit more about Chief Morosi.

Mount Moorosi is named after a chief, who moved to the region in the 1850s, living in the cliffs around the town. He was an ally of the San and had several San wives, but made an enemy of the British in the 1870s when they captured his son as a hostage and Moorosi promptly snatched him back. British troops retaliated by attacking his stronghold in 1879, but he held out for eight months, until finally captured when the soldiers used scaling ladders on the steep cliffs, and then cut off and publicly displayed Moorosi's severed head.

He must have been a real pain in the neck for the British for them to have bothered about him for eight months. Either that or there was a question of pride involved. Feelings in those days would have been "we are the mighty British Empire and we are not going to let a bunch of savages mess us around". This, I must say, is not my point of view but one which I heard proffered during a discussion on the radio about Chief Morosi. Knowing men's pride and colonialism in those days I reckon there was probably truth in the suggestion.

The weather now started changing and there was a bit of a nip in the air as we set up camp for the night; most of us in tents and some in bungalows. The next morning saw us heading up a steep tarred pass and then onto dirt roads shortly after. The weather had really begun a turn for the worse and strong winds were now starting to blow. I felt sorry for Mike at this time because the wind was howling in one side of his landy and straight out the other. The lack of vegetation in Lesotho meant that dust or, more importantly, top soil, was having us chewing grit. The temperature was dropping due to the wind chill factor but the worst was the dust in your eyes and mouth and actually everywhere.

We were again climbing up huge passes and then descending to the depths of Lesotho only to again climb and all the while being buffetted by the wind. There is an Anglican Church mission called Christ the King which commands the most awesome view of the Senqu River doing a 180 degree turn in a canyon of magnificent proportions. To get there Marc sought out the priest and was granted permission for us to drive to the edge of the canyon. The wind was fortunately blowing up from the canyon towards us because had it been blwoing in the other direction we would have surely been blown off the precipice. The views were utterly amazing. My camera just does not do justice to the grandeur. I needed a fish eye lens, which I don't possess, to incorporate the whole vista.

We then headed off again literally eating dust as we did so. We then sought out a place to have lunch where there would be shelter from the incessant wind. We found such a place down in a river where we sought shelter from the wind but found it just as bad if not worse because it had a channel to speed up the velocity. Whilst we were driving our vehicles were breaking through the hard crust and we had to keep moving to prevent ourselves bogging down in the loose shale like gravel sands of the river. Brigid decided to walk through the river to the other side and Emlyn thought if she can walk then he can drive through. Hmmmm. Emlyn if the dry sand on the edges was bad why would it be better in the river itself? Halfway through and that's where Emlyn sank in.

Roger by now was getting anxious but Mike pulled up his shortie to pull Emlyn out. Problem was we just couldn't get him far enough from the side of the water to get any traction. Marc then brought his Defender forward towards Mike but sank right down to the axles. Roger was now really anxious about our escapades. I then went in search of some truck sides we had seen abandoned after being used as sand tracks by someone. Just as I was towing them back behind my Land Rover I started losing traction and then stalled. Basil then did his ultimate bit and refused to restart.

We now had Emlyn stuck in the river. Mike free but unable to pull Emlyn out. Marc stuck and me immobilised. Henk was on the side watching and wondering if he should venture down towards the stranded vehicles just yet or not. Marc then attached his winch to Mike who was attached to Emlyn like piggy-in-the-middle and there came Emlyn out of the river with one very wet Land Rover.

Mike then had to pull Marc out and then come over to me to give my battery a jump start. This was our so-called lunch stop which produced no food and only a long delay, lots of effort and very sand blasted legs from the sand and the wind.

We then climbed back out the river bed and onto the road and headed for a night stop. Our intended stop was never going to be reached so we decided to head towards Sehlabathebe Game Reserve and seek shelter there for the night. Marc knew of a lodge there but there was no way of knowing whether the accomodation would be full or not.

The temerature was dropping further and after quite some rigorous mountain passes we reached Sehlabathebe Game Reserve. The drive into the park was a torturous, twisting extremely narrow track with drops to the side that didn't need to be thought about. A mistake would have been disastrous. Night had fallen by the time we reached the lodge.
We found three Land Rovers already there which worried us about the accommodation. The chap in charge of the lodge however was expecting a tour group and said there would be no room for anyone else other than the tour. We suggested to him that at this time of the night no tour group would be arriving and he should let us two groups of Land Rovers use the place. We were sneaking in and taking brief baths much to his annoyance but we needed to get rid of tons of Lesotho top soil. There was no communications but Marc had international roaming on his cell phone and suggested we phone the tour group and confirm if they would actually come or not. Fortunately they too were far behind their schedule and said they would not need the place. The previous group of Land Rovers and us then shared the place and there were bodies in the bedrooms, lounge and dining room and anywhere we could find space. Much Captain Morgan was drunk that night to help ease tired muscles and build a bit of body heat. At about midnight another group of travellers arrived and bodies were shifted to make space for them too.

The park is a haunting place with wide open vistas of mountains and plateaus. Animal life is minimal and the flora exotic. They is a succulent plant that spirals either colckwise or anti-clockwise according to the sex of the plant.

Emlyn and Brigid needed to get back to Johannesburg and so Marc bid farewell to Brigid and she and Emlyn headed out early for the southern border of Lesotho at Quacha's Nek.

The rest of us bid farewell to the other Land Rover owners who warned us of a really difficult pass (Matabeng) that lay ahead for us. They had come down in and we were needing to go up it. They had told tales of how their V8 Land Rovers were on the limit of being pushed out to the edges of the precipices during the descent. We were intrepid travellers and would manage and bravely set off on a very crisp morning.

There was evidence of snow on the next pass we took. The altitudes on this pass were now in excess of 3000 metres and the Land Rovers were struggling with a huge lack of power in this rarified atmosphere.

Andy was teamed up with me and back home in safe, comfortable England he drives a Discovery automatic. I asked if he had driven series Land Rovers and until driving Mike's the previous day had actually never driven one. Mike had helped him understand the finesse of double de-clutch gear changes and I offered that he could drive mine. Having just been over a very high pass and thinking the other group had exaggerated about the pass I thought it would be perfect countryside for Andy to drive.

That was not the pass!

The other group had not exaggerated! We did not know this until Shirley came on the radio, and thinking I was the driver, warned me of an extremely tight bend. This is a series long wheel base. Aircraft carriers have a tighter turning circle than a series long wheel base. I spotted the bend and there was no time to change drivers. This was it. Andy's moment of truth had arrived. Baptism of fire and all that. I said to Andy that when I shouted turn, then he must turn for all he was worth. Series Land Rovers and Discovery Land Rovers have absolutely nothing in common in the area of steering. In fact the only thing they have in common at all is a badge that says Land Rover.

I shouted "TURN" and Andy started a very sedate turn to which I responded with another "TURN, ANDY, TURN". Too little, too late. We were up against the cliff face with three quarters of the hairpin bend still ahead of us. Andy brought the Land Rover to a stop and then it happened. All four wheels were locked but the gradient was extremely steep and we started sliding backwards on the gravel towards the precipice. There was nothing more Andy could do other than stay standing on the brakes. I was watching the precipice getting closer thinking when the best time would be to bale out and let the Land Rover go over the edge without us. Then it happened. Basil stopped. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear nothing above it. Andy's leg was shaking through fright and strain of keeping intense pressure on the brake pedal. I then got out and packed the biggest boulders I could move behind all four wheels with smaller rocks holding the boulders. Andy slowly and very gingerly released the brakes and I took over the driving seat. I think I heard Andy heave a sigh of the hugest proportions. I can't be sure my heart was still pounding from the excitement and the altitude.

Many forwards and backward movements with poor Andy running and packing rocks behind the wheel whilst I made a fifty-five point turn. Mike and Marc were filming this and not quite aware of the gravity of the situation were parked in the road beyond the corner. At this point there was no way I was going to try stop behind and shouted on the radio for Mike to move because there was no way I was going to stop. I think he heard the urgency and at the last minute moved off before he got the imprint of the front of a series Land Rover on the rear of his series Land Rover.

Drama was not yet finished. There was an extremely steep climb ahead and Shirley was passnger with Roger who was driving Marc's 110 Defender. Roger had chosen the wrong line by picking loose gravel instead of the firm slab of rock. Then when his forward momentum stopped he depressed the clutch and started rolling backwards with the front wheels locked and no steering which meant him sliding backwards towards the rock face. He brought it to a stop just in time. All the while Marc was filming while watching a potential disaster with his Land Rover. Roger then chose the firmer line and cruised up through the pass, followed by the rest of us. I had again been worried about stopping but kept slow forward momentum whilst Roger's knowledge of Lesotho grew.

We then made it without further mishap to St James mission where there was a guest lodge where we camped for the night under the attention and care of Sipho. The night was chilly by Africa standards but the excitement of the day had us not even aware of the cold. Captain Morgan also helps.

The next morning after a hearty breakfast we set off for the last leg of the trip in Lesotho towards Sani Pass. I was tail-end Charlie and soon got a shock when I applied brakes for the first time and found the pedal went straight to the floor. This is not a good thing to happen in Lesotho. After about ten frantic pumps I got enough pressure to roll to a stop. The same happened again. I quickly passed this on to the others over the radio. My first thought was that the intense pressure on the brakes the day before had perhaps let air in through the brake cylinders. We then decided to bleed the system only to have air bubbles pouring out through the master cylinder. None of us had seen this before and more bleeding just produced more bubbles. A few phone calls to mechanic friends back in South Africa had the problem diagnosed as master cylinder seals.

About forty kilometres away was a small town, and one one mountain pass stood between it and us. By now the brake pedal gave no pressure at all. This meant driving with absolutely no brakes at all. Could we achieve it? To say I was nervous was an understatement of the biggest proportions. I asked Shirley to travel in another Land Rover as I wanted to be the only one in my Land Rover in case things went wrong. This was going to be a case of low range first gear and crawl down the mountain. Ahead were one or two hair pin bends which concerned me as I didn't know if I could make it around in one turn or not. What if I had to stop to reverse? It was suggested Marc attach himself to me with a tow rope with me leading so that he could drag me to a stop if needed. All went well and the hair pin bends were fortunatelytaken in one manouvre. At the bottom of the pass we unhitched and I continued on my own at a very gingerly pace.

The rest of the way was typical Lesotho with many ups and downs but no more passes. My next headache was entering the town. How was I going to stop? I decided low range would be all I would use and, if need be, stall the vehicle and then restart when necessary. I managed to stop for all the herds of sheep and the many children and also smile nonchalantly at the police as I drove past.

Despite all our efforts to acquire master cylinder seals we ended up spending the better part of the day bleeding and re-bleeding ad infinitum. We tried manufacturing a seal for the end of the piston rod from a rubber tube. No luck. We hunted down the few Land Rovers in Lesotho (this is definitely Toyota country) with no one having a spare master cylinder. Even the three scrap Land Rovers we found had no master cylinder.

What to do now. Drive the rest of Lesotho without brakes. Would my heart withstand the punishment. Do the infamous Sani Pass attached to a Land Rover behind me? Leave the veicle and return in a few weekks with the right part and fix it? The latter option was chosen after much deliberation and soul searching but I didn't want to leave it in this town and return to nothing more than a shell. Vehicles can be stripped very quickly in Africa. The decision was made that we would drive back t St James and ask Sipho to look after the vehicle and Mike would bring me back in two weeks to fix it. By now we were way behind schedule and Shirley had to be back in Johannesburg for work as did Henk and Annalet so I bid farewell to Shirley as she left with the Coetzees.

Marc headed off to St James to secure some accommodation whilst Mike and Roger crawled along at my pace with me. The previous mountain pass was now looming again and so Mike hooked up behind me with a tow strap just as a safety measure, although it was not needed. We did have one interesting moment when at one of the hairpin bends I took a line that would ensure I would get through in one turn not realising that Mike would be pulled though the hairpin over the steepest section where there was actually no road. Roger's heart nearly gave up and Mike in his usually relaxed and unflappable manner merely said to Roger "we just go with the flow".

At the bottom of the pass we again unhitched and soon we were back in St James guest lodge and quite a few Captain Morgan rums were required to ease the adrenalin. The lodge gives me images of being built in Scotland in the eighteenth century with doors so low one has to duck to get in and walls about two feet thick. The water has to be fetched from the river at the bottom of the pass and driven up in a huge container on a tractor. The next morning saw us heading for the the border with one huge pass before we would see Sani Pass. Then it began snowing. With the altitudes in Lesotho it is not unusual to have snow in summer at all. This was for us well into spring and very nearly summer.

Boy oh boy, was I now happy I decided not to try the rest of the trip without brakes with this snow. Mike and I were now freezing to death with his canvas roof and no sides. Eventually we stopped and attached the sides for a small reprieve from the snow albeit not from the cold.
Andy and Roger then decided South Africans were the barmiest people they had met when we stopped in the snow to down a few beers. Mike, believe it or not, was his usual self with bare feet!

At Sani Pass we stopped to take in the scenery and to thaw out somewhat. The Lesotho border post is at the top of Sani Pass and the South African border post is at the bottom of the pass. The pass is spectacular but the hype about it did not match the degree of difficulty. I was rather disappointed. The passes in Lesotho made this look like a stroll in the park. What was impressive was seeing the pass snaking its was down in a near vertical drop. In the rain or snow I'm sure the pass would come back and bite me for saying what I've said, but in the dry there's no real sweat. Shirley, Henk and Annalet did not see the view as the mist when they went down gave visibility of less than thirty metres. This last leg was quite long but we enjoyed it. Marc headed off into the distance while Mike and I took the normal series leisurely pace back to Johannesburg arriving after twenty hours of driving.The adventure was not over yet; I still had to go back to Lesotho to retrieve my Land Rover.

Party Three: The Recovery. (To come)

Have a look here for some fun: http://youtube.com/watch?v=4Apm86FH2Uo

and here: http://youtube.com/watch?v=Tzr2uzrCgn0

Forward to the 20th century

2008-04-16T23:44:00.000+02:00

This is the 21st Century. Actually it's not. South Africa was colonised. Prospered. Developed. Built industries. Received majority rule. Hosted a world cup rugby event. Everybody thought, wow, Africa can be different.

I am writing this in complete darkness. Three times a week, for a four hour period, we are in complete and utter darkness because South Africa is unable to supply sufficient electricity to keep the lights burning. Surely in the 21st Century there is electricity? My Dad was born in 1920. They had candles when he was growing up. Their fridge contained a huge block of ice delivered regularly to them. If that's how it was in the twenties then surely I'm still part of the 20th century. Shirley and I just ate our meal by candle light. Hmmm, you might think that's part of sexy foreplay. Not so. Sexy meals and foreplay these days is with the lights on.

I had better become more in tune with Africa's huge advancement and instead of teaching people to drive cars I'll start a new profession and teach people to ride horses.

Why not? Our northern neighbour from whom I've been in exile for the past twenty-eight years has shown true African democracy. Hold an election. Let the people vote. That's democracy isn't it. But wait! Do the people vote for the opposition? It can't be! We've got people so scared they daren't vote for anyone other than the dictatorship. What happened to all the votes from all those dead people? You mean the people still don't want us? But we've made sure there aren't any whites owning farms. We've stopped the western capatalist economy whereby people produced goods for payment. We;ve increased inflation to 1000% per month. Don't the people know anything. I mean even South Africa's president knows. He alone has the guts to stand against world opinion and admit there isn't a crisis in his northern neighbour.

So I'll just put my watch back eigthy years and enjoy life.

The End: Cape Town

2008-04-15T04:25:00.000+02:00

Well my Mom has gone full circle. She started life eigthy-three years ago in Touws River some hundred or so kilometres outside Cape Town, spent the majority of her youth in Cape Town, and last weekend took her last trip to Cape Town where she was finally laid to rest.

My eigthy-eight year old Dad and I flew to Cape Town to bury my Mom's ashes in her family's grave. My Dad has been anxious for this to happen but, for a number of reasons, it took a couple of months to be realised.

I know he feels better about it now and I must say until writing this blog I was rather cold to the whole thing. It's just that my duties have managed to make feelings take second place. I can now see his urgency but I still believe when you are that age with very little to do you forget that life doesn't stand still for others.

Shirley asked me if I have closure now to which I replied that I don't believe in this closure thing. Closure comes when a person dies and you know they are dead. It's a realisation. Too much emphasis is put on all this psychiatric come psychological nonsense. Take a hold of your own feelings and deal with it. But enough. This is not about that but about Phyllis Emily Moss, nee Hoggan.

Rest in peace, Mom.

Aquatic cellphones

2008-03-30T22:14:00.006+02:00

When we arrived at Mountain Sanctuary Park the wardens told us that they were sad to inform us that there had been petty theft of late and should take care of our valuables. This was sad news indeed because we had never worried about really locking things in the past when leaving camp on hikes. Oh well, what the heck, there is crime everywhere so out in the mountains is no different. We were not about to let that spoil our long weekend camping.

What a great weekend it was too. Our whole family was there, Kirk and his girlfriend, Diane; Steven and his wife Chantal; and Loren and her husband Paulo. There were sounds of laughter and joking well into the night and on one occasion a quite noisy game of hot coal tennis. I couldn't believe it. Steven and Paulo playing tennis with their bare hands with coals from the fire. By this time Shirley and I were in bed when we were awoken by their antics. Paulo couldn't stop saying all weekend that it had been a long time since he was last sent to bed!

Because of the theft warnings I decided that instead of leaving my brand new cellphone in camp I would carry it with on our hike, so I promptly put it in its pouch on my swimming costume waistband. Now the great thing with Mountain Sanctuary Park is that whilst hiking there are beautifully clear rivers to cool off in. I always love this because it revives you for the next leg of the hike. Today was no different and after wallowing in the crystal clear water for the second time Loren looked at me horrified and cried out that I was wearing my cellphone. Steven and Paulo promptly grabbed the phone from me shouting that we must get the battery out quick. By now the phone was dripping water from out of every conceivable orifice.

I must admit to being quite downhearted because this was one of the new generation phones with Windows mobile and an inbuilt GPS. With all this technology I was not confident that drying the phone out was going to revive it. On the way back to camp water was still dripping out of the speaker hole. The phone was placed in the sun on the dashboard of Loren's car and left for two days. I was scheming ways to make a claim from insurance without blatantly admitting that I swam with the phone; things along the line of we were camping and as you know there was a lot of rain (which there really had been) and the phone got wet etc.

When it was suggested that the phone must surely be dry and that I should try it I shrugged and said it was a pointless exercise and that they could mantle it. There really should be a word like mantle, I mean if you dismantle something surely you must be able to mantle it when putting it back together. Anyway Steven and Paulo took up the challenge of re-assembling the phone, switched it on and words fail me as to how I felt when I saw the screen light up and then proceed through the Windows start up phases. Although I had backed-up information before I left home I was dreading having to transfer the information over to my old PDA which I had been using before getting my new all-in-one phone. The relief in now not having to do this was akin to winning the Lotto. Well maybe not that akin but you know what I mean.

I wonder if I could claim costs and submit an invoice for advertising if I mention the type of cellphone? Well anyway even if I can't I'll tell you the make just in case you too want to swim with your phone or drop it in the toilet like I've heard many people have done. It's a ..... wait for it ...... drum roll please ........ HTC P3300.

I'm now going to be lazy and attach a whole bunch of photos of the weekend and not really say much about them. In fact I'm not going to say anything about them I'm just going to attach them and you can look and enjoy and hopefully be very envious of where we were this last long weekend.

Next adventure.

2008-03-25T00:33:00.000+02:00

The next adventure is now well into preparation and I know that everyone who's going is very excited; I know that I certainly am.

Let me tell you more about it while I'm lying in my sleeping bag in my tent in the Magaliesburg Mountains. It's just gone five o'clock in the morning and so it's far too early to get up and brew a good cup of tea. I'm sure the other campers would not appreciate the inevitable clanging that accompanies the removal of steel pots from the steel ammunition boxes I store them in. The Magaliesburg Mountains are a low range of mountains not far from Johannesburg and is a firm favourite with hikers and climbers alike. We are spending the Easter weekend here with our whole family and their respective partners.

Rain is in the forecast with a cold front expected on Sunday. At the moment the rain is desperately trying to come but just can't seem to. There have been about half a dozen of the finest drops barely making a sound as they ever so gently touch the tent. I can hear one or two other restless souls stirring so very soon I'm going to have the kettle on. Actually now that I come to think of it I'm a complete and utter twit. I don't need a noisy pot. Our campsite has an electrical plug point and we brought our electric kettle.

This is the life; the birds are chirping to each other and apart from that there are the silent sounds of the bush. For those of you who know the African bush, then you will also know the sound of the ubiquitous turtle dove making his rolling type call. That is one sound one seems to hear all around Africa. At the moment a thrush is making himself heard above all the other birds.

Shirley has awoken, so soon we'll be off on a walk to help build an appetite for a breakfast of grilled bacon and eggs.

I suppose you're asking yourself when is this blooming idiot going to say where he's going. Well the destination is Mozambique. If you're reading this outside Africa you'e probably now asking where the dickens is Mozambique. If you look at an atlas it's just there to the right of South Africa. Mozambique suffered the ravages of a war of independence from being governed by Portugal. When this finished there was another period of about twenty-five years of civil war. Mozambique is still hamstrung by these wars but is now beginning to recover and tourism is helping to bolster the economy.

There will be the same crowd of Land Rover owners that went to Lesotho last September and one family extra driving in a brand spanking new Defender. We will be accompanied by our son Steven and his wife Chantal and also our daughter Loren.

The route will be through the middle of the Kruger National Park (KNP) crossing into Mozambique at the new border post, Giryondo, which will take us into the new Transfrontier Park. Our final destination is Ponta Zavora on the coast. There is a smallish reef where we can snorkel and beautiful white beaches to lie on and do as little as possible. Mike will be on a diving trip at Ponta Douro in the extreme south of Mozambique and will drive north and join us on about the Tuesday.

We've opted for a less difficult route than we originally wanted in order to be able to spend less time driving and to have more time to chill and enjoy the area. We were also concerned that the Limpopo River, like all African rivers is very seasonal, would still be too high too ford. If so a lot of time would be wasted on the resulting detour south.

It's exactly one month to go and I can already taste the freshly baked Portuguese style bread and succulent peri-peri prawns.

Fifty

2008-03-02T05:40:00.000+02:00

It's coming up pretty soon and until now, four days to go I'd never given it any relevance. All of a sudden it seems a turning point of some sort. Exactly what I'm not too sure. Maybe one is meant to feel old or something but I don't. All I do want to do is shed a few kilos. I do find myself a bit sluggish lately because I' heavier than I really want to be.

Well here goes. Shoulde one make resolutions when one turns fifty, like one does at New Year? Well who cares, I'm going to do it anyway. This will be the second recently and of the two, probably the less important. Well this is it.

Lose 15 kilogrammes.

Oh my goodness. What am I saying? I've been trying to do that for in excess of a year with the only result being an INCREASE.

So what must I do differently? Exercise. That's it. Exercise. As much a I would like to believe that driving a series Land Rover is exercise, it just isn't. The gym is going to see more of me. Well right now I suppose everyone is seeing more of me. Well hopefully they'll all be seeing less of me.

He goes then. Fifty (almost) and trimmer. Can I start after today's bacon and eggs? No? But it's Sunday......

The other important resolution I hear you asking. Improving my relationship with God. He's taken a backseat recently and now He'll be in the driving seat again.

Janis Joplin asked God for a Mercedes Benz. Perhaps he'll help me by taking away rather than giving.

Sleepless nights and blogging

2008-03-02T05:36:00.000+02:00

Two o'clock am. What is it about this very unmagical time? It is becoming almost predictable that I'm going to be awake. Does age do it? Doubt it because Shirley is just one year younger and blissfully sleeps on whilst I suffer this affliction of staring into the dark.

Fortunately it's summer and so being awake at this unearthly hour is not unbearable. What does really irritate me are the mosquitoes buzzing annoyingly around my ears just outside the mosquito net. One would think that by now that would have given up all hope of having a meal. Must give them full marks for persistence and zero marks for intelligence.

I now have something to do in these insomniacal hours and that is to keep my blog up to date, something I've severely neglected these past months. If I get out of bed Shirley awakes and I feel bad when she is forced to have a bad day because of me. However, thanks to my daughter, Loren, I now have a new mobile phone that connects through wi-fi to our internet and I can lie here in bed and blog. The story of getting this phone is the subject of a future blog so I'll merely say my lifestyle has been changed somewhat by it. Never thought I would say that about a phone!

I think I should get some e-books downloaded onto the phone so I can do some midnight reading without disturbing Shirley's slumber. Hmm. I think that'll be a project for this weekend. It'll be a good chance to catch up on some classics because they are available free.

The mosquito has not relented and is now in serious danger of being the target of some Doom spray. The only problem with that being the cat who also shares the bed will screech out of here as if I were out to annihilate her.

Well goodnight all I am going to drop off hopefully whilst I do some mental planning for our upcoming adventure to Mozambique.

Lesotho part one

2007-12-01T19:55:00.001+02:00

So after Roger and Andy arrived in South Africa and enjoyed a few cold beers and a few sightseeing episodes and a trip to Pilanesberg with Marc it was on to Lesotho. The trip would be comprised of Shirley and I in our 1969 series IIa 109 ; Mike in his 1959 series II 88"; Marc and Brigid in their new Defender 110 Tdi (Kalahari); Emlyn in his Defender 110 V8; Henk and Annalette in their Discovery.

Mike and Shirley and I decided to leave a day early because in our vehicles it's great to enjoy the scenery along the way. We made it to Ladybrand (just outside Lesotho) that evening and after struggling to find accommodation we were lucky in finding a quaint guest house which was fully occupied with Harley Davidson riders who made our rooms available by them sharing rooms.

The next day saw us trying to help one of the Harley guys effect a minor repair on one of the bikes.

Today saw us all meeting up at Malealea, a campsite near Maseru, the capital of Lesotho. Here we all chilled out and enjoyed a braai and a few sundowners and really got to know each other. Our journey was to be travelling Southwest and then through the southern parts of Lesotho and exiting through the eastern border at Sani Pass.

This was the beginning of an adventure of a lifetime. Marc and Brigid were the only ones who had toured Lesotho before and we were all looking forward to tackling the mountains in earnest. I must admit to being a bit apprehensive because Basil (our Landy) tends to overheat on long uphills so I wasn't sure what would happen to our progress. As it turned out I had no need to fear as all went well in that department.

Plans were made but Marc warned us about being adaptable to change when driving in Lesotho (and for the rest of Africa for that matter). This was prudent advice because we indeed had to change plans due to underestimating the time it would take to travel planned distances and due to a breakdown more of which will be mentioned later. Our second night was planned to be at a village near Mphaki where we would ask the local headman for permission to camp.

The trip would be a bit rushed as there was a long way to go and the roads in Lesotho do not lend themselves to being driven fast. Tarmac was limited to about five percent of our trip and the only level ground was on a bridge crossing a river. We picked up a guide named Jerry to help with finding places to camp and to help with the interpretation. He was truly a great guy and it was a boon to have him along.

We were now experiencing passes up to altitudes of 2800 metres and then dropping down into river valleys of about 1600 metres and then immediately climbing back up again. Lesotho seems to be just climbing and dropping and climbing and dropping. The scenery is spectacular although the area is completely overgrazed. The highest passes which were still to come would peak at about 3400 metres.

All the vehicles were behaving wonderfully and we were all having a really wonderful time. Drivers and passengers were swopping vehicles and chatting and also conversing over the two way radios.

We were now discovering the term "pop ups". No matter where you drive children and often adults will pop up from the most obscure places and ask for sweets and money. We had heard incidents of refusals being met with stones being thrown at the vehicles. This has been widely reported on by many travellers through Lesotho and responses from the Lesotho government has been that they are trying to educate the people about the harmful effects this practise is having on tourism. We were travelling in the southern part of Lesotho and reports are that the people in the north are more prone to doing this as there are more travellers there than in the south. We only had one incident where something was thrown and that was a plastic cooldrink bottle. This whole begging for sweets syndrome has been promoted through people throwing sweets out to children and has entrenched the idea that white people have wealth and they, the local inhabitants, have nothing and also in a rural areas where dental treatment is greatly lacking this induces further problems. It also instills a concept of why work for anything when we can beg for it.

But enough of the moral talk and back to the journey. This day also saw us crossing the Senqu River which is the start of the mighty Orange River. We found ourselves getting worried about directions and then finding we were on the right track after all. Time was getting short and we were looking for a short cut that would entail fording a river thereby cutting out about 40 kilometres which relates to probably a little more than an hour travel time. Often language is a problem but we came across a young lady pushing a wheelbarrow up a hill loaded with a large gas cylinder. She told us how to find the river and we asked if she thought we would be able to cross the river. She thoughtfully surveyed the two Defenders, two series Land Rovers and the one Discovery and then said she thought they would all make it except for that one, pointing at Henk's Discovery. Needless to say we were all rolling around on the floor in laughter much to the non-amusement of Henk. The river crossing proved to be extremely mild and two wheel drive vehicles frequently use the crossing.

Shortly after the crossing we wound our way up a mountain pass with some extreme gradients only to turn around and make the descent and spend the night at Mount Morosi. This area was named after King Morosi who had defied the British forces way back in the eighteen hundreds by holing up in the mountain and was able to repel attack after attack. After a very lengthy time I think the siege ended in suicide of everyone. I will research and post on this again later. That saw the end of an adventurous day with picnic lunches on the side of the road and river crossing and some pretty hairy mountain passes but the best was still to come.

Boring life? Not I.

2007-11-29T19:13:00.001+02:00

I was reading my blog and realised that if anyone were to read this they would think I existed in a terribly boring life. Nothing could be further from the truth however. Why did I think this? Probably because I don't put anything into this blog. To those few who have read it then I offer my humble apologies.

So what am I going to do about it. Firstly I am going to try and make people jealous by writing about our past trips and our hopefully many future trips, money allowing, that are due to happen next year.

So where do I start? Well let's start with our recent Lesotho trip. Lesotho? You ask where is Lesotho. Well if you live in Africa you'll know exactly where Lesotho is. For those that might be reading this beyond the Dark Continent then Lesotho is a small, mountainous, landlocked country surrounded by South Africa. Dust off the old school atlas and if it's new enough it'll show Lesotho; if it's not (and now you'll be giving your age away) then if you see a country called Basotholand it's one and the same.

Why did we go to Lesotho? An adventure was desperately needed and we wanted to give some visiting Poms something they would remember for a long time. Visiting Poms? Let me explain. There is a Land Rover internet forum ( http://www.landrovernet.com ) which I subscribe to and there are a number of South Africans,especially around Johannesburg, that are also on the forum. Well in one of our Gauteng chapter pub meets Marc's partner, girlfriend, extremely long term relationship lover, etc (Brigid) suggested we get some Poms out here to experience what Land Rovers really do. An idea was readily born amidst the murky depths of George's Gold Diggers bar. Marc then hastily goes onto the forum and invites any one willing, to fly to South Africa and we will give them a time of their life. All they need is the cost of a return airfare and spending money. True to form many say how they would love to come but unfortunately it falls over their dog's birthday or they have heard that someone their parents once knew thirty years ago has an ingrown toe nail and are about to lose it and it means they can't now get out here to accept the offer.

However two upstanding members of the British forum accept the challenge; Roger Whittle and Andy Deaves. Both scout masters I hasten to add. Two people who love adventure and are not afraid to admit it. Do people try to talk them out of it? Most definitely. How can you just go to Africa they are asked? You don't even know these people. Maybe there was a belief that we are starving in Africa and were encouraging well padded Poms to come out so that we could throw them in a cooking pot and eat them. Might have worked in Roger's case but definitely not enough meat on Andy.The Father Christmas looking chap is Roger and the one pretending to drink mampoer is Andy.

So two hearty fellows buy their tickets and arrive in Africa. That is how the Lesotho trip came to be.

Now I must hasten to add there is nothing strange about Andy and Roger. Why do I say this? Because they are not represented in my previous blog about strange people.

More on the Lesotho adventure soon.

People are strange.

2007-11-14T19:50:00.001+02:00

People are strange. Maybe people say that about me. However, I really believe that people from Africa are very much less strange than those from other places in the world. We used to be friends with people from a particular section of England. We met another couple from the same area. I thought the first couple were different. I definitely think the second couple are different. According to statistics one hundred percent of people from that part of the world are different. Different from what? Well, from us. I suppose some would rather say eccentric. Great people but I suppose when people are different from us we consider them strange.

What do I mean by strange. Well it's hard to quantify without being labelled as extreme or unpolitcally correct or maybe just downright rude. Just believe me when I say Poms are a strange breed. I'm glad we're here and they are there and we just see each other occasionally. It's all relative I suppose. People from England probably look at us here in Africa and think, what strange people they are. They eat raw meat and drink too much!

No, it's not my un-amiable personality coming through. We have friends in Australia who came and stayed with us for quite a long period this year and they had their daughter and future (maybe) son-in-law with. Were they strange? No way. But then again, except for the children (a term which is hard to use because they are in fact adults) they were born in Africa. They eat decently. They don't have this aversion for anything that is not bland, unexciting food.

Paul and Debbie and two of their other adults, or do I mean children, are visiting again next year and I'm looking forward to it. We can have a conversation without having to translate English to English, and indeed we can have a conversation where more than one party actually does the talking.

Ah well, I suppose it takes all sorts to make up a pack of liquorice all sorts. People probably talk about me and say, if they're being very polite and untruthful, what a strange character. Out of earshot they would probably say a lot worse things about me.

Pass the liquorice all sorts please.

Training courses

2007-10-19T19:03:00.000+02:00

Well, I've just completed four days of training to become a assessor in terms of SAQA, NQF, IDETP, and who knows what other letters of the alphabet. This outcomes based training in theory is great but in reality it is a flop. Why? Because just in one small aspect alone, if I assess you to be not yet competent (euphemistic way of saying you FAILED) I must be able to back up my decision if the learner appeals. Therefore I can see the vast majority of assessors merely competising (Africa loves to make verbs of words that have no verb) learners merely to get their assessor money quick and not have to be bothered with appeals; especially because there is no extra pay for going through the appeal process.

Why did I do this course? Because the Land Rover Owners Club needs assessors as very soon 'off-road driving licences' will be required to use one's four wheel drive vehicle where it was intended to be used. Not a bad idea I hear many of you saying; environmental impact, bunny huggers, green peace and all that. I agree. Yes, I agree. However, and here I should have used capital letters on the HOWEVER, and that is like every new law which South Africa seems intent on threatening us with (more of a Police State than it ever was during the heady days of the conservative apartheid era, there has to be enforcement. Who I ask with tears in my eyes is going to enforce me going off-road? Are we going to have traffic cops on scramblers and quads and Range Rovers (they wouldn't settle for anything less than big, black Range Rovers so they can look like government bigwigs), now not hiding behind bushes, but actually driving from one bush to another.

Anyway back to the training. If I see how much content the trainer ( whoops, f.a.c.i.l.t.a.t.or.) left out then I can only say I'm glad for her she doesn't get paid according to how much she actually taught us. Short cuts like it was going out of fashion. Glad I was not paying for the course. There will be some pretty poor assessing going on out there based on the content of that course. But surely I must be wrong SAQA and NQF and IDTEP or what ever says it met a standard. How can I say this? Well I have Shirley's knowledge and experience to compare it with. It's a daily part of life at home here with all the GIMT and NAMPAK and CIDA going on.

What is it with the world today that everything must be capital letters? What if we started to TYPE IN ONLY CAPITAL LETTERS, WOULD gimt AND saqa AND nqf SUDDENLY GO SMALL?

Let me enjoy my Landy before petrol gets so expensive I won't have to worry about the new proposes laws. On a lighter note will an off-road enforcement officer be known as a bush pig?

Travelling in Southern Africa

2007-08-26T21:02:00.000+02:00

I really feel that I could travel continuously and explore Southern and Central Africa. I will have to investigate how to earn money while I'm not there to run the business. Is there any business that falls into that category? I suppose not, because that's too easy and as they saying goes "money don't come easy". I'll have to write a blues song about my money woes. I can't even buy a Lotto ticket and hope to win the money to reach my dream thanks to the ineptness of our government ministers. I mean how hopeless do you have to be to mess up a simple thing like a Lotto tender. But I suppose there were too many fat cats in both tendering companies and they are all crying about the process of awarding the tender.

But alas I digress. Where would I like to go first. Tough question Kevo. I reckon a couple of weeks through the Karoo and then up into the Richtersveld. The Karoo really appeals to me with its sheer barren expanse of scrub stretching beyond each horizon in all directions. I would stop in at the small towns and have a couple of beers in the local hotel pub and watch and talk to the local populace; try out the local tea rooms with home-made scones and tarts; wander through the town absorbing the way people live and how the pace of life is in these rural back-waters. Houses with corrugated iron roofs, stark white walls and wooden gates. Harsh sun beating down and sending up shimmering heat waves off the one tar road in the town. The type of heat that during the middle of the day wants to crush you and squeeze you from all sides, making a person listless and ready to seek out the cool shade. But even in the shade there is no escape from the heat, it's just that the sun doesn't directly bake you; you just bake anyway, just a bit slower. When the evening comes the smell of those home cooked lamb-based meals mingle with the scents that are always present in the rural areas. Scents that can now be smelled because the air is so clear. When the first evening star appears there is the first felling of coolness. Then sitting in the hotel dining-room with the large overhead fans slowly turning and barely making a ripple of movement. Hearing the waiters clonking on the pine floors, the scraping of chairs and then the sound of music emanating from the depths of the hotel. Sakkie-sakkie music, which out here just seems appropriate. Hmm, I do believe that must become a reality. Maybe go and pop in and spend a couple of days with Kobie and Alec at Ganna Kraal and take those breathtaking early morning walks before sunrise before the household stirs, with their Labradors keen to join in and ever eager to go further and further. Yep, that's going to become real.

It's a strange, strange world we live in, Master Jack

2007-07-23T01:20:00.000+02:00

These were the words from a nineteen seventies song by the Four Jacks and a Jill. I think they sum up the feelings of probably every generation from Adam until now. The Lord says (in Ecclesiastes?) that there is nothing new. Do I believe the Bible tells the truth. You bet. Why? Because it has actually been proven true so many times. No this is not about God and whether he exists or not, but I do hope if you don't believe in God then one day you will. What it is about is how thoughts progress I suppose. How did I come to blog about war or murder in my previous post? Shirley and I spoke briefly about it because of the statement in the news that Vlok and Co. were going to be prosecuted for trying to bump off Frank Chikane. That then led me to start thinking about my days in the Rhodesian war. What progressed from there was viewing archive material about Rhodesia and the B.S.A.P. and amongst other things, inevitably for me, Land Rovers. But for a change I don't want to talk about Land Rovers. What I noticed in this period of searching the internet about Rhodesia was where many Rhodesians are today. And I began to wonder why are they where they are. Why am I where I am?

On an Emmaus walk I heard the statement that if you have no idea who you are the world will tell you who you are. This I heard later in life than I wished I'd heard it. Especially when it comes to the extension of this and that is if you have no idea where you want to be then the world will tell you where it wants you to be. For many years I've not wanted to be in Johannesburg. But because I've allowed myself to be here, here I am.

I take my hat off to those who are where they want to be. Fortunately in life we can often rectify mistakes. However to anyone younger than me who might be reading my ramblings then take life with both hands, give it a good shake and know what you want from it. Never be dictated to by the world. Lead rather than be led. Follow your dreams; and indeed make sure you have dreams.

Circumstances will to a certain extent be instrumental in foiling plans but they can be overcome. Sometimes it takes time, but never give up. For a while I gave up. But no longer. Maybe age makes you realise time is getting short to achieve what needs to be achieved, but nonetheless we need to go for it. When I left the secure employment for the world of self-employment I decided that I was, at 39, young enough to make a change and too old not to. I did not want to look back on my life and say I wish I had taken the plunge and I wonder whether it would have worked. I would rather be able to, as now, say I'm glad I tried. Has it been all roses? Well, yes frankly. This year has been difficult but it has taught me some lessons.

So in one way I am where I want to be, that is self-employed. Okay I chose a profession that is not the most high paid but I enjoy it. But I need to realise another part of my dream that I have always been too scared to do and that is to move. Now it is even more difficult to do and that is because my children live here.

So to answer the question I posed earlier. Why am I where I am? Well briefly because I was too scared to take the plunge and move. Why are my children here in Johannesburg? Also because I was complacent. Just think they could have been somewhere more agreeable.

This now leads me onto another thought and that is what would they be doing now had I taken the plunge and moved from Johannesburg, but I won't go down that route for a while.

But I must add a concept that makes my reasoning about why I'm where I am more difficult to put into context and that is God's plan for our lives. Does he care where we are? You better believe it. Am I here because it's God's plan? Not necessarily, because I haven't always followed a righteous life and make plans often without consulting Him, so therefore His plan might be for me to be on an idyllic island in Fiji. Maybe His plan for me is just to worship Him no matter where I am. This is also another thought process now and one which I don't have the theological know how to answer. I suppose it's back to the drawing board or I suppose I should rather say back to the Bible, and seek God, to find the answer to this one. Aaaargh! Stop blogging now Kevin before I find too many things to have to sort out.

Hmmmm. It is indeed a strange, strange world. Or maybe it's just me.

Is it war? Is it murder?

2007-07-17T06:29:00.000+02:00

When is it war and when is it murder? There is an area which overlaps the two. Defining the two is not always going to be easy. Why am I asking this? Recently reported on the news is that the State has decided to prosecute Vlok and van der Merwe for attempted murder of Chikane. When was this? During the time that S.A. was at war against the ANC. The ANC were laying bombs and killing civilians. The S.A. government were trying to prevent this and known ANC activists were targeted. Was the ANC guiltless because they were trying to overthrow a corrupt government? Surely then the S.A. government was guiltless because they were resisting their downfall. They saw themselves as the democratic government of the day, notwithstanding how we might feel about apartheid now.

This is a different scenario to genocide with the likes of Charles Taylor of Liberia and many others, some in Bosnia and surrounding countries. I am not Chikane so I might have a different feeling about the matter if I were him. But then I would have been on the other side of the government. Did I fight for S.A.? No, however I have fought for Rhodesia and I wonder to what lengths I would have gone, in similar circumstances, had I needed to.

Sure, one can say arrest and charge and take the matter to court. In war this is not always an option. People are killed in war. Kill or be killed. Did I ever try to arrest the terrorists we were fighting? Our orders, and it was accepted as such, was that you go out an engage the enemy and kill them. Any that survive you bring back. We were never told to bring them back and try not kill any. Only in special operations, that elite forces like Selous Scouts and the SAS were engaged in, were expected to bring in enemy officers for intelligence purposes. The foot soldier? Kill them.

Do I approve of Vlok and van der Merwe. That is neither here nor there. I think that when you are being patriotic to your country a person will go to great lengths to protect it and guerilla warfare unfortunately has ill-defined labels as who is the enemy. That is why guerilla warfare is engaged in; to make it difficult to find the enemy. Which means the opposing side, in this case the S.A. government, has to try and decide and identify the enemy and do what enemies do in war; kill.

That's why I hate war. When will there ever be peace. Definitley not until the Lord arrives that's for sure.

First off.

2007-07-01T21:08:00.000+02:00

This is a new phase in my life. That is speaking out ideas, maybe even feelings and putting them out in the open. Why? Well I could be described as showing the world only what I want them to see but I think it is more of speak out when you have something of relevance to say. I dread having people around me who speak just for the sake of speaking because they constantly need people to notice they are there. I have a dog like that. She is probably the most vocal dog I have ever come across. The world needs to know when she is out (well that is her impression). In reality the neighbourhood actually doesn't need to know. Some people are the same. Here I am and you are going to hear me all the time whether you like it or not; whether what I say is relevant to anybody or not, and you have to constantly hear my opinions. The nice thing about a blog is that if you don't want to read someone's opinion on something you merely close it and read something else. Cool hey!

Do you want to read an opinion I have? Well not yet because what I am actually doing is merely introducing myself and how I see this going. It might, over time, change and then I become so obsessed with it that I become verbose and opinionated and begin to be the person I described in my first paragraph as disliking immensely. But then again maybe I don't. If you want to find out whether I do or not then you will need to read post after post after post after post after......

Whoa. Dr Jekyll is coming out already or is it Mr Hyde who is coming out already? I can never remember who changes into whom. In this ridiculously politically correct world it will probably have to be Dr Jekyll and Ms Hyde so that there is gender equality in who he changes into and then when he is Ms Hyde he is bi-sexual so that there is no offence to lesbians and when he is Dr Jekyll he is homosexual so that section is okay with it. But wait! He will also have to change colour somewhere along the line. How about green so The Hulk doesn't feel ostracised? But then maybe even poor old The-Hulk has to be PC and is now She-Hulk

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