At last! On the road with no plans. That’s how I planned it, but actually it didn’t turn out that way in the end.
When D-day arrived the Universe (who I’m not speaking to btw) messaged to say that I needed to hot foot it to George asap because a friend needed energetic, background support while she navigated a personal challenge. I’d had it in my head to go to this amazing campsite alongside a lagoon in Plett and do some body boarding, so George was on the way anyway. It just meant less aimless, slow drifting.
I packed my new car-home to the brim and set-off for the N2 via my storage unit, which still had space for a box or two and my favourite guitar (I’ll tell you why I call her my favourite in a later blog). I’d booked a glamping tent 3 hours away near Swellendam. I was sorted. So far so good. But it was Friday and it was 2pm and it was Cape Town. And there I sat. Going nowhere. Traffic overcooked jam. Solidly stuck.
Then Google (who I’m not talking to btw) suggested I go back via my old cottage (2 hours old at that stage) and take the back route. “Clever!”, I thought. But no, it was Google, and I’d forgotten how sneaky and keen to annihilate me Google has always been. I thought that the shacks were fairly well built in their standard tin. I’m not an expert, but they seemed ok. And so many of them along this long, long pot-holed road that is obviously the preferred route of those lazy crows!
I began to suspect that the Universe was letting me know that, even though I am theoretically unhomed, I still have comfortable middle-class options. I did wonder for a moment if it would be my very last message and if it would in any case be redundant. I didn’t say anything though, because as I said before, I’m not talking to the Universe.
By the time I found my way back to the N1 I’d cancelled my glamping booking (according to Booking.com) because it was actually a camping option (according to the campsite owner) and too far away to get there in time. It was now 5pm and I had nowhere to stay for the night. There I was sitting in Food Lovers’ parking lot wondering where to go now. Not a great start to an epic adventure. Day 1 and already it was all the shape of a pear!
I wasn’t overly worried though, because I have a tribe of wonderfully kind, generous and pragmatic sister-friends who had all offered me some kind of shelter for the night, if I needed it. Fortunately I managed to find a spot in the Breede Valley at Klipkrans, a campsite that I’ve always wanted to stay at. I arrived as the sun was setting and I was so happy. I had a beautiful, grassy campsite alongside the Breede river. I was home. At last. Or again. I wasn’t sure. I’d driven for hours and managed to make it all of 35km from my old brick tent.
It was strangely comforting though to be in the same area with the familiar sounds and smells and to watch the same character of sunset over familiar mountain shapes. It was a gentle introduction to what is, in many ways, a very nerve-wracking decision to journey untethered, with all of my possessions in storage and nowhere physical to call home. My friend Lou reframed it as possibly not untethered but perhaps just me on a very, very long retractable puppy leash. I like that. I felt protected and safe that night, and almost opened a dialogue with the Universe, but I’m not being lured back in unless I’m sure that things have changed.
It was a quiet evening with only the sounds of the ducks getting ready for bed, fading into the melodic warble of the Nightjar and eventually the ringing of silence in my ears. But not before I was transported into a surreal Disney scene that made me glad I hadn’t yet gobbled the shroomy chocolates that I’d been saving for my trip. My roadtrip that is.
But that story will have to wait. When I yawn, my eyes close and I can’t type so… it has to be night night for now.