“Mayibuye iAfrika! Sing loud, Africa
We’ll be ringing the bells when you come back.
We’ll be beating the drums when you come back”
The rich, deep voice of Vusi Mahlasela fills every nook and cranny of The Fugard Theatre. Melodies wash over the 200-odd theatregoers sitting, rapt, in plush leather seats listening to one of the continent’s greatest troubadours.
It’s just another Friday night in Cape Town, but Mahlasela’s song of homecoming couldn’t be more fitting. Just two short years ago the high ceilings of The Fugard – in the ‘East City’ of central Cape Town – would have resonated with little more than the scratchings of a few vagrant pigeons.
But after lying empty for years, in February 2010 the arches of the Congregational Church hall – built in 1830 – and the historic Sacks Futeran building next door found new life as the most exciting theatre in the Mother City. Fittingly, it’s named after South Africa’s greatest playwright, Athol Fugard.
“There’s still this perception that the centre of town is a dangerous place to visit, but it’s not the case at all,” General Manager Daniel Galloway tells me earlier in the day. “It’s a case of introducing locals to a new part of the city; showing them what there is on offer. When Anthony Sher starred in ‘Broken Glass’ recently, 6000 tickets went to first-time visitors to The Fugard. With all the other great things happening around here, people are literally flooding back into this part of town.”
He’s quite right, and while The Fugard’s varied calendar of music and theatre may be attracting much of the publicity, the blocks east of Buitenkant – between Roeland and Darling Streets – are all experiencing something of a revival. From boutique bakeries and furniture design galleries, to independent bookshops and trendy nightclubs, the East City is rapidly turning into the creative hub of Cape Town.
It’s in no small part due to the efforts of the Cape Town Partnership, which has focused their efforts on rebranding this corner of Cape Town as ‘The Fringe - Cape Town’s Innovation District’.
This ambitious project, which is key to Cape Town’s bid to be named World Design Capital for 2014, aims to create an ‘urban science park’ and is modelled on similar projects in Barcelona, Toronto and London. If all goes according to plan, ‘The Fringe’ will position the buffer zone between the CBD and old District Six as a hub for design, media and tech start-up companies.
And the wave has already begun, with the historic Granary building being revamped as a new home for the über-cool Bandwidth Barn; a ‘business incubator’ aimed at helping start-ups in the ICT field. Similarly, the Cape Craft and Design Institute and the Cape Fashion Council have both moved into the area, adding to the East City’s creative credentials.
On a smaller scale, it’s exactly the thinking behind The Field Office. Hidden at the upper end of unassuming Barrack Street, this quirky initiative by trendsetting designers Pedersen + Lennard hopes to showcase products and art from local creatives… and that includes their own innovative range of flat-pack furniture. But mostly it’s intended as an ‘office away from the office’ for the local industry to network and be inspired, with artisan coffee, gourmet sandwiches and fast Internet to help things along their way.
Nurturing the local design industry and young entrepreneurs is also a key focus for Woodhead’s, a leather merchant on Caledon Street that first opened its doors in 1867.
“We’re a bit of a landmark in this area,” says Richard Harris, whose family has owned the business for the past 65 years. “Most of our business is in supplying the trade and local crafters, but we still get plenty of tourists just wandering in to take a look at the shop.”
And that’s no surprise, with Woodhead’s retaining all the charm of an old-school merchant as apron-clad clerks help customers navigate nooks and crannies piled high with the minutiae of leatherwork.It’s clear that the East City means business, but nightlife in this corner of town is also putting on its glad rags and drawing night owls away from the watering holes of the city centre. With clubs like The Assembly and Sugarhut Club, “Harrington Street has become a bit of a mini-Long Street,” says Harris. “There are almost 10 000 students staying in and around this area, so that really feeds into the young creative environment.”
The nightclubs will have to wait until after my Vusi concert though, so I head further up Harrington Street. A quick samoosa from the famous Al Haq spaza shop – nothing fancy, but as traditional as they come – keeps away the autumn chills. As the last morsels of crisp pastry disappear I hear the sound of leather on leather: a rhythmic whack-whack-whack. A pause, then whack-whack-whack again.
‘East City Boxing’, reads the sign above the nondescript doorway. The security gate clangs open and a canvas ring reveals itself.
“You here for the classes?” asks Matthew Leisching, one of the resident trainers at East City Boxing, as I stifle a laugh at the thought of me playing Rocky in the ring.
Revamped and reopened in early 2010, East City Boxing offers “old school boxing training” in a setting to match; all wood-panelled walls and sweat-stained leather. Mirrors flank one entire wall facing the ring, while brand-new punching bags, speed-balls and weights hide in the corners. Perhaps no surprise that Hollywood star Denzel Washington chose to train here while shooting a movie in the Mother City.
“We have 110 regular boxers working out here; either in the group classes that happen every day or one-on-one with the trainers,” explains Matthew, feet clad in boxing boots and ready to hop in the ring at a moment’s notice. “We also have a fight night every three months; boxers from this gym who want to fight can get in the ring, and we also fight against boxers from other gyms. They’re really popular!”
But popular barely begins to describe what is perhaps the biggest draw card to this corner of the East City, and my last stop before heading to The Fugard for the Vusi show: Charly’s Bakery.
After years on work-a-day Roeland Street, Charly’s has a new home. And while not all locals are happy about the exuberant paintjob on the Victorian façade of the old Castle Hotel, this iconic bakery has certainly become the colourful new heart of the East City.
Struggling actors nurse their coffee and talk about hard times, local fashionistas discuss Fendi and trends, while gawking tourists wander in as if they’ve chanced upon Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.
Which – in a way – they have, as the ‘oompaloompas’ behind the counter take your order from the array of baked goods on offer. To one side; savoury tarts and quiches made with rich butter pastry. To the other, the main event: row upon row of decadent chocolate cupcakes. And behind the counter, Charly’s famous “mucking afazing” wedding cakes are being constructed.
I grab a cupcake (OK, I couldn’t resist two) and take a seat outside with a coffee. The counter bustles with lunchtime business and the pink-and-white candy-striped cake boxes fly out the door ahead of a long weekend.
As I pull the last few crumbs of cupcake off the baking paper, it seems that Charly’s is the perfect metaphor for the East City. There’s an exciting new face to a business that has long been a stalwart of these gritty city blocks. There’s a fresh lick of paint on the walls, and new life breathed into a building that had gone to the dogs.
But vagrants still wander across the car park and a few steps from this Aladdin’s Cave of confectionery there are strip joints and soup kitchens. There’s still a grittiness here that is both the East City’s charm… and its millstone.
But the times they are certainly a’ changing, and if you want a peek at the Cape Town of tomorrow, you’d do well to take walk between the blocks east of Buitenkant Street.
SIDEBOX: Don’t Miss…
- Shop for: the best local literature at The Book Lounge on the corner of Buitenkant and Roeland. One of Cape Town’s best independent bookstores, you’ll find knowledgeable staff, comfy couches and weekly author readings here.
- Discover: the shameful history of how apartheid destroyed one of Cape Town’s most vibrant communities at the District Six Museum on Buitenkant Street. Don’t leave the Mother City without a wander through this moving museum.
- Eat at: the homely Dias Tavern on Caledon Street. The plastic chairs and fluorescent lights might not make for a romantic first date, but for a bustling atmosphere and authentic Portuguese cooking you can’ t go wrong.
First published in Indwe magazine, June 2011
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For their June 2011 issue, Horizons magazine - the in-flight magazine on BA/Comair - asked five writers to put together a list of their top 10 travel experiences in southern
Africa. I was one of the five...
Kayaking the Quirimbas:
Arabs, Portuguese and local fishermen have plied the waters of northern Mozambique for centuries, and the kayak adventure that sets off from Ibo Island Lodge is my favourite way to explore the Quirimbas Archipelago.Mornings are spent paddling between islands, with afternoons wiled away on lonely beaches or meeting the friendly local fishing families. Or perhaps birding in mangrove forests, followed by a little snorkelling on quiet reefs? Come evening, a bucket shower washes off the salt before a feast of local seafood. Then turn in for canvas ‘glamping’ beneath the boughs of a Star Chestnut Tree. What’s not to love?
www.kayakquirimbas.com
021 702 0285
Pay homage to the Arch:
No, not that sprightly chap in maroon robes. There’s spirituality of a different sort to be found in the Cederberg Wilderness Area: far and away my favourite hump of mountains in South Africa. It takes a sturdy pair of legs and decent kit – temperatures plummet in winter, so don’t go ill-prepared – but the otherworldly rock formations, endemic Cedars and perfect silence of the flat-topped Wolfberg are enough to still the thumping heart of the most stressed-out city slicker. A night spent beneath star-spangled skies and the soaring arch of this iconic rock formation is the best way to realise your true place in the universe: insignificant.
www.capenature.org.za
0861 227 362 8873
Swim the Okavango:
It took me awhile, but I eventually wore down the guides from our safari lodge [which shall remain nameless]. For four days we’d been floating above the crystal-clear waters of the Okavango Delta; above channels carved by wandering hippos and deep eddies where crocs lurk in the shadows. But I wanted to get wet, and a sundowner stop at a clear shallow pool was my chance. I swear I heard something close to permission, and I was in. Swimming. In. The. Okavango. Delta. It’s admittedly a good way to lose a limb, but what’s life without a little danger? And besides, it beats the hell out of a hotel pool.
www.botswanatourism.co.bw
+267 395 3024
Meet a turtle up north:
Turtle-spotting tours abound in northern KZN, but the Loggerheads and giant Leatherbacks that nest on the beaches of the iSimangaliso Wetland Park don’t stick to tour schedules. A sunset walk either side of low tide is the best time for tripping over turtles as they heave themselves up the sands to dig their gourd-shaped nest. Turtles have been nesting here for hundreds of thousands of years, so it’s the easiest way to meet a real-life dinosaur. If you’re lucky enough to find one, just remember to keep your distance so you don’t disturb their nesting.
www.isimangaliso.com
035 590 1633
Lonely dunes in De Hoop:
We all know whales flock to South Africa’s coastline in the springtime. Unfortunately, so do the tourists and in ‘whale season’ you can barely move in Hermanus or De Kelders for all the cetacean-spotters. But not at De Hoop Nature Reserve, an hour-and-a-bit to the east, where the aptly named Koppie Alleen is my favourite spot for some of SA’s best whale-watching all on your lonesome. You’ll need to borrow a few fingers to count all the whales cavorting in the bay, and in just a few hours you’ll have plenty of tales to swop around the braai fire at the wonderfully upgraded Opstal cottages.
www.dehoopcollection.co.za
Relive the battles:
Call us the Rainbow Nation all you like; but South Africa’s history is pockmarked with bloody battles. Anglo-Boer, Anglo Zulu… the list goes on. While most history buffs flock to the killing fields of Isandlwana, my favourite is the forlorn Spioenkop on the Drakensberg side of the N3. The hillside is dotted with graves of the soldiers – Anglo and Boer – that fell here on the morning of 24 January 1900 and Omri Nene, our guide from Three Tree Hill, brings the pointless battle beautifully to life. On this lonely hill, it’s hard not to remember the words of Nobel laureate Albert Schweitzer: “The soldiers’ graves are the greatest preachers of peace.”
www.threetreehill.co.za
036 448 1171
Walk the Otter Trail:
Those who’ve tackled The Otter (its name is always spoken in caps) will nod knowingly when the talk of the trail comes up around the braai. With forty-two kilometres of aching uphill and knee jarring downs, and half a dozen river crossings, it’s a tough old so-and-so of a walk. But all that sweat is not without reward. Like Scott hut and its loo-with-a-view, and Oakhurst hut rattling to the pounding swells; the pods of dolphins in morning light; and cliff top vistas shared by you and just 11 fellow hikers. The Otter is the real Garden Route: rough, raw and breathtaking in more ways than one.
www.sanparks.org
044 302 5600
Sea the Cape:
"The most stately thing, and the fairest Cape we saw in the whole circumference of the world." Sir Francis Drake was right… Cape Point truly is a “most stately” thing, and all the more so when seen from the seas that rush around the southern tip of the Cape Peninsula. Take the fast-boat from quaint Simon’s Town (itself worth a visit) with the affable Dave Hurwitz and you’ll be beneath the towering cliffs in under half-an-hour. There are no tour buses out here, no flag-carrying guides and no marauding baboons. It’s the only way to really experience the fairest Cape.
www.boatcompany.co.za
083 257 7760
Wild horses of the Namib:
Some say the German Schutztruppe left them behind after World War I. Others will swear they came from Baron Hansheinrich von Wolf’s desert stud farm south of Maltahöhe. Yet others will suggest they were shipwrecked near the Orange River and simply wandered north into the desert. Wherever they may have come from, the herds of wild horses that wander out of the Namib dunes to drink thirstily at the Garub waterhole are one of southern Africa’s most humbling animal attractions. It’s an unforgettable piece of Namibian magic on the lonely B4 that runs from Aus to Luderitz.
www.namibiatourism.com.na
011 702 9602
Sunset at Cape Columbine:
Everybody has their favourite sunset spot – Clifton 4th or Camps Bay are the usual culprits. They’re both a little crowded for me, but happily you rarely a jostle for a seat on the granite boulders of Cape Columbine. Hit the R27 north to Paternoster, continue through town to the Cape Columbine Nature Reserve, pitch your tent at Tietiesbaai (no really, that’s what it’s called) and then wander up the hill behind you with your favourite tipple. Settle in below the sweep of Cape Columbine lighthouse, the first to greet ships arriving from Europe, and watch the sun fall into the Atlantic. Just another bloody perfect day in Africa.
www.capewestcoast.org
022 433 8505
Published in Horizons magazine; June 2011
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In Prague, it pays to get up with the sun. To leave your hotel when the night porter is still snoozing behind his desk, and the bakery vans are rumbling down quiet cobbled streets. Walking shoes on your feet and a bag with a guidebook and water are about all you’ll need. Summer in the heart of continental Europe is filled with balmy days and blue skies, and the byways of Bohemia are beckoning.
There are few tourists sharing my view from beneath the walls of Prague Castle this spring morning, and it feels like I have the city of 'City of 100 Spires’ all to myself. I start counting the stone towers poking out of the morning mists, and quickly realise I’ll need over 500 fingers to tally them all.
Modern-day Prague is actually made up of four distinct – and previously separate – towns that were united in 1784. Dominating the skyline above the Vltava River is Hradčany, the famed castle district where I find myself gazing out over the slumbering city. From here, the lanes of this historic corner wander down to Malá Strana; the Lesser District which hugs the left bank of the sinuous river.
Linking the two banks of the Vltava are 12 bridges, including the impressive 14th century Charles Bridge… but more on that later. The sun is just beginning to burn away the mist, revealing the winding lanes of ancient Staré Město and wide boulevards of the Nové Město, the New Town; a whippersnapper at a mere 600 years old.
The day is warming up and the lines of tourists are starting to wind their way up the steep cobbles of Nerudova Street, so I shoulder my bag and wander up to the ticket office of Prague Castle; far and away the city’s most popular attraction. There are ‘long’ and ‘short’ visit tickets (R140/R100), but I’m a little short on time so opt for cheaper access to just a few of the highlights.
And as highlights go, the Gothic spires of St. Vitus Cathedral – the heart of Prague Castle – are jaw-droppingly, neck-craningly impressive. Without even stepping through the cathedral’s striking doors, it’s impossible not to be awed by the intricate stonework, imposing columns and threatening gargoyles. There has been a church on this spot for over 1000 years, and the six centuries of cathedral construction only finished up in 1929. Just in time, it seems, to start the restoration work that is a permanent feature of historic sights in Europe.
Scaffolding aside, the lines are quickly forming outside the Cathedral so I leave the tour-groups behind and wander into the other corners of the historic castle precinct: St. George’s Basilica is another 1000-year old church worth a visit for its stunning murals, the Royal Palace was once home to the Bohemian kings that ruled here, the Vladislav Hall is the largest ever built in the Flamboyant Gothic style, and a walk down the Golden Lane is a wander back through time to when these colourful cottages were filled with goldsmiths and artists. The writer Franz Kafka – one of Prague’s most famous sons, who was born across the river in the Old Town – once lived at #22.
The castle is bordered to the north by wonderful parkland, but I meander through the streets of Malá Strana to one of the city’s best viewpoints: Petrin Hill.
Most tourists come here for a trip up the oh-so-cheesy observation tower that’s an Eiffel look-alike, but the real beauty of Petrin is the shady walkways that criss-cross this pleasant network of parks.
The paths of Petrin are a welcome respite from the tourist-laden stone streets, and a quiet bench delivers lovely vistas of the old town and the river. If you’re in the mood for a morning jog, this is the place to come.
A day of pounding the pavements is likely to be more than enough exercise though, and Prague is certainly a city made for walking. Public squares abound, traffic is relatively light and the distances so short it’s simply not worth taking the trams that rattle their way along narrow streets.
A funicular railway runs from Petrin Hill down to Ujezd, and then it’s a short walk back into the maze of medieval lanes along the river. The Museum Kampa art gallery has an excellent collection of Central European modern art, and there’s always a worthwhile temporary exhibition on the go.
But you’ll find art almost everywhere you look in Prague. Public art adorns city rooftops and the Vltava River, small galleries abound and intricate stone carvings decorate the grandiose skyline that makes Prague so irresistible to architecture buffs.
And perhaps nowhere in the city is the devotion to public art as dramatic as the famous Charles Bridge. Built in the 14th century, its character has evolved through the ages as power changed hands, but this UNESCO World Heritage Site still ranks as one of the world’s most romantic spots. Just try and get there early, or out of season, to avoid the thronging crowds.
Thirty statues line both sides of the Bridge, and although the controversial restoration work that obscures some of them is set to continue until 2020 it’s not hard to admire the mix of religious and regal statues towering above. Don’t miss the bronze of St. John Nepomuk that you’ll find slap-bang in the middle of the bridge. The statue marks the exact spot where John was thrown into the river to his death for disagreeing with King Wenceslas IV… descendant of the presumably-kinder ‘good king’ Wenceslas of the Christmas carol.
There’s remarkable detail to be discovered in each of the 30 statues, but the bridge is equally splendid from afar, and the benches on the eastern riverbank are the best place to admire it from.
After giving my feet another rest (those cobbles can be hard work on the ankles) it’s headlong back into the happy throng of early-summer tourists. Narrow Karlova street leads from the Bridge straight into the heart and soul of Prague: the dramatic Old Town Square. Or Staromĕstské Námestí if you feel like practising your Slavic.
But it won’t just be Czech that you’ll hear in the (overpriced, I’m warning you) pavement cafés that crowd the edges of the square. The layer cake of European architecture that characterises one of Europe’s greatest town squares makes this tourist central, and from daunting Gothic to florid baroque and playful rococo this is perhaps the only place in Europe where you can skim through architectural time as you circumnavigate the square.
Touristey though it may be, keep an eye on your watch for the changing of the hour. This is your cue to congregate at the impressive Astronomical Clock that dominates the southern side of the square. Cogs and dials mark the movement of the planets and hours, while a tableau of apostles dance with death in a moving pantomime. Dating back over 600 years, it’s a feat of engineering so wondrous it's said that the craftsman who built it was blinded after completing the clock, so that he could never build a replica.
Macabre make-believe, perhaps, but amidst the Gothic alleys of old Prague it feels like the city’s chequered history is alive and well.
And it’s a history easily explored in the city’s excellent museums. There are museums to Art Nouveau painters and, of course, Franz Kafka, but if you visit only one make sure it is the moving Jewish Museum in the Old Town.
Ironically, the museum’s massive collection of Jewish art and literature was assembled by the Nazis, pillaged from displaced communities and assembled in 1942 as the ‘Museum of the Extinguished Race’. Today, this complex of four ornate synagogues celebrates the rich Jewish culture of Eastern Europe, and is perhaps proof that ill intentions can be turned to good. On your way out, take a stroll through the haunting Jewish cemetery, with its jumble of 12 000 tombstones lying askew.
All that walking is bound to make you hungry, but avoid the expensive cafés on the Old Town Square and head into the New Town to eat with the locals. For a light bite, kavárny (coffee shops) are ideal for a quick coffee and pastry, or stop in at the affordable jídelna self-service cafeterias.
For a true Czech experience though, you can’t miss a meal at U Medvídků, a 600-year-old traditional beer-hall in the heart of Nové Město. Over the years the wood-panelled room has been a brewery, beer-hall and even the first cabaret in Prague.
Today though, it is simply an authentic Bohemian restaurant and beer-hall that draws crowds of locals and tourists each day for its pints of Czech Budweiser (a far cry from the American copy-cat) and well-priced local dishes. Czech cuisine is heavy on the pork and potatoes, but you’ll quickly burn it all off walking the streets!
Fortified with a plate of traditional prazská hovezí pecene (Prague stuffed roast beef) and a glass of Pilsn, the rest of the city awaits.
Upmarket shopping in Paris Street, or admiring the bullet-pocked walls of the National Museum? Embrace your inner-tourist with a knock-off classical concert in one of the city’s churches, or wander up tree-lined Wenceslas Square? Or perhaps just relax in the peaceful gardens of Church of Our Lady of Snows?
Whichever you choose, Prague has shufffled off its grey overcoat of Communism, and is welcoming tourists with open arms. But with so much to fill your days you’d do well, as I say, to rise with the sun in Prague.
Smart traveller
- There are no direct flights from South Africa to Prague, but the city is easily accessible via hubs such as London Heathrow or Frankfurt, served daily from SA by British Airways and Lufthansa.
- Spring and early summer are the best times to visit Prague, before the tourist-hordes descend in August or the snows blanket the city in winter.
- South African passport-holders require a Schengen visa to visit the Czech Republic. Contact the Embassy of the Czech Republic in Pretoria on 012-4312380, or visit www.mzv.cz/pretoria. Visit www.czechtourism.com to plan your visit.
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The muezzin is calling in the last days of Ramadan. His summons to prayer wafts across Ibo Island, echoing down faded streets lined with crumbling ruins. Trees grow through doorways and roots inhabit rooms once home to Portuguese traders.
Time on Ibo, adrift in the Quirimbas Archipelago in far northern Mozambique, seems to have stopped somewhere in the 1970s; in the early days of independence when foreigners fled, or were forced, from the country. Pack up and go in 24 hours, they were told, leaving behind lives and livelihoods.
“Allah hu akhbar!”
The muezzin’s call jolts me back to the present. The hurried evictions of the 1970s are a distant memory now; one of many stitches in the turbulent tapestry of Ibo’s history. The island’s mosques are a reminder of the days when Arab merchants controlled these waters. They arrived with Islam and ambergris, sailing home on the trade winds with gold, ivory and – occasionally – slaves.
The Portuguese were here too. Forcing the Arabs from the island, they entrenched their position with the Fort of São João Batista. The cannons are long silent, but the thick white-washed walls of the star-shaped fort still guard one of the island’s treasures.
Ibo is famous for its silversmiths, a craft said to date back over 800 years to the first Muslim traders. On the cool flagstones of the Fort a dozen jewellers patiently fashion molten silver into delicate bands, while in the old kitchen a wizened artisan uses a makeshift bellows to heat the small furnace, melting raw silver.
The fine filigree jewellery was originally made from colonial-era Portuguese coins, melted down and refashioned into the delicate bracelets, rings and necklaces. Today, the silver is flown in from South Africa; a touch less romantic, perhaps, but the quality of work is still outstanding.
This taste of living history is what draws most visitors to Ibo. It’s an island that steers clear of the stereotypical beach holiday of sun, sea and sand. You’ll find those here, certainly, but also a peek into the island’s rich history and daily life in the Quirimbas.
Ibo Island Lodge’s 14 en-suite bedrooms, housed in the old governor’s residence with its thick walls of coral bricks, are exquisite. Restored to their former glory they’re filled with rustic wooden furniture either imported from India, as the Portuguese would have done, or handcrafted on the island. Cool screed floors spill out onto private terraces with views of the dense mangrove forests. Dhows are moored safely on the mud flats, waiting patiently for the tide to return.
Except I’ll be leaving all of this behind.
It was nice while it lasted, but our small group of travellers wasn’t here to savour languid days at the lodge. We had following seas and fibreglass kayaks in our future. Dome tents and deserted islands. Starlit nights and coral reefs.
For travellers who can’t bear to sit still on holiday the new kayak adventure on offer at Ibo Island Lodge is ideal. You spend a few days on Ibo shaking off the city malaise and enjoying the lodge’s home comforts, before setting off into the blue horizon.
We’re up early to catch the tide; our sleek sea kayaks are lined up on a nearby sand spit. Guests at the lodge use this idyllic beach – only exposed at low tide – for lazy days under sun umbrellas, but we stand on it staring wistfully across the waters, our destination somewhere out there in the haze.
“We sometimes have to change where we paddle depending on the weather,” explains Harris Mupedzi, the head guide from Ibo Island Lodge who’ll be leading us north. “But the weather is perfect for us today, a nice gentle wind from the south, so we’ll head for Ulumbwa.”
That would be the village of Ulumbwa over on the mainland, some eight kilometres away. With the wind behind us it’s a fairly easy paddle that shouldn’t take more than four hours. The tropical sun is already warming up the day though, so we take to the kayaks. A few swift strokes and the crystal waters off the sandbank drop away into the deep. Below us lie fifty-odd metres of ocean, a deep channel where whales and dolphins are often seen.
Some distant splashes catch my eye, but otherwise we are alone on the water. The rhythmic rise and fall of our paddles the only sound to break the conversation that ebbs and flows with the swell. Open crossings are a watery meditation where your mind wanders easily as your shoulders find their stride.
A tender boat shadows in case any paddlers tire, but with a following breeze it’s easy enough to rest when we like, pushed onwards – like the Arab traders before us – by the soft trade winds.
Our support dhow has already set sail, plodding its way north piled high with our dome tents and camp crew. While you may work up a sweat paddling from A to B, that’s about the only hard work you’ll have to do on this trip. The dhow crew sail ahead, set up camp, prepare meals and provide a welcome bucket shower at the end of each day.
As our keels scrape the sand at Ulumbwa, situated at the mouth of a mangrove-fringed river, we leave the crew to set up camp and wander off to explore the local village.
It’s a simple place, where chickens and goats scratch in the sand beneath the boughs of majestic Common Star Chestnuts. Following us always is a gaggle of local kids, ‘mzungu’ the only word I can pick out of their cheerful chatter of local Kimwani.
Palm trees whisper sweet nothings at the water’s edge, where fishermen check their bait before a night at sea. They grin enthusiastically as they show off their tiny dug-out canoes; “Bom peixe! Bom peixe!”
I wish them ‘good fishing’ and wander off back towards our beach camp.
The camp, though rustic, leaves little to be desired. Dome tents with camp-cots provide a comfortable night’s sleep, with a bowl of steaming hot water greeting us each dawn. A large gazebo shades our dinner table, while the canvas screen around the bucket shower leaves a head-sized gap just big enough for ablutions with a view.
We have views aplenty on the next day’s paddle across to Mogundula. Except we’re all feeling a little lazy, so we take advantage of the dhow’s rooftop deck and hitch a ride. We use the strengthening breeze as an excuse, but honestly it’s simply too good an opportunity to pass up. The lateen sail draws us gently to the north as we wave to local fishermen, stop mid-channel for a swim and try our luck with a lure out the back.
After a few hours at sea an island emerges from the haze… Mogundula, where we’ll spend our last two nights.
The island is uninhabited, but by no means deserted. Most mornings a gaggle of local women arrive by dhow, buckets in hand and spears at the ready to harvest what they can from the exposed coral reefs. These seas are officially a marine park, but still provide a livelihood for the villages that line the mainland.
Our days are spent in more leisurely pursuits; snorkelling the coral bommies that fringe the island, meandering along paths through coastal forest, swimming off the sand spit that juts out to the south or simply soaking up the postcard views of the Quirimbas.
This is a kayak adventure where your hand is squarely on the tiller; where your days move to local rhythms, waking with the sun and lulled to sleep by the sea.
Harris and the skipper deal with the tides… all you need do is decide how busy you want to be. Paddle the long crossings, or relax to the creak of the dhow. A busy afternoon fishing and snorkelling, or pull a chair up to the water’s edge and watch the world go by.
The camp kitchen keeps busy all day though, with freshly baked bread and plates of rich prawn curry, piri-piri squid and grilled crayfish for dinner. Like the trip as a whole, it’s rustic yet indulgent. The only star rating you’ll find will be in the night sky above… and that’s exactly why adventurous travellers will love it.
Need to know
- For more information on Ibo Island Lodge and the kayak adventures, visit www.kayakquirimbas.com This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it or call 021 702 0285.
- South African passport-holders do not require a visa for Mozambique.
- Northern Mozambique is a malarial-area. Consult your travel doctor three weeks before travel for appropriate prophylactics.
First published in Indwe magazine; May 2011
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“You’re doing what?” my friends would ask incredulously – usually accompanied by a look reserved for the slow-witted – when I told them I was going surfing in England. “Better take an extra wetsuit,” they’d chortle, not helping my mental image of a surfer entombed in frost like prehistoric leftovers from the last Ice Age.
And who can blame them, I suppose. In a country more famous for drizzly days whiled away in cosy pubs, the thought of spending hours in the sea is not high on the to-do list for most people visiting the United Kingdom.
Perhaps they were right, I wondered, as my First Great Western train pulled into Newquay Station on a gloomy Sunday afternoon. It looked ‘distinctly autumnal’, as the forecasters on the Beeb seemed to be fond of saying. Five hours out of London, and about 20 from my front door in Cape Town, I’d finally made it to what is widely regarded as the home of English surfing.
Facing the full brunt of swells rolling in off the Atlantic, the myriad coves and dozens of beaches in and around Newquay offer a surf spot for almost all conditions. It may not have the legendary point-break of J-Bay or the warm tropical waters of Indonesia, but when the swell plays ball the breaks at Fistral Beach can fire.
Well, at least that’s what I was told.
Looking down on the beach from my room in the Carnmarth Hotel all I can see is a choppy mess dotted with day-trippers determined to spend the drizzly day on the beach. With a full day of surfing ahead of me the next day, I decide to stay on dry land and take a wander into town.
Like so many English seaside towns, Newquay has a split personality. On the high street it’s all flashing amusement arcades and discount stores touting 2-for-£1 specials. Low on charm but easy on the budget, it’s no wonder the town has gained an unwelcome reputation as a post-school party-spot. The Plettenberg Bay of Cornwall.
But wander beyond the high street and you’ll find that Newquay, like most of England’s towns, quietly guards its quaint corners. It began life as a fishing village, and so the harbour is a good place to start exploring.
Small fishing boats lie tied up along the quayside, where lobster nets are piled high until the spring tides subside. At low tide, the boats are marooned on the harbour sands and you can walk across the edge of the bay to the excellent seaside restaurant at Tolcarne Beach.
On the cliffs above the harbour, The Fort Inn is a great place to enjoy a pint of Cornish-brewed St. Austell’s ale; the terrace offering fine views out over the Bay. Down a few cobbled streets, the cosy Red Lion is also worth a visit; a low-ceilinged local hang-out where the TV in the corner plays surf movies on a loop.
Wandering up Headland Road it’s hard to ignore the huge granite cross at the top of the hill. An all-too-common sight in English towns, the cross is a memorial to locals killed in battle since World War I. With over 100 names listed for the Great War, it’s hard to imagine how the loss of young men must have devastated the small town nearly a century ago.
Down the hill towards Towan Head I notice two whitewashed stone buildings. Known as the Huer’s Huts, the oldest dates back to medieval times and were home to fish-spotters who’d scan the waters of Newquay Bay and alert the local fishermen when shoals of pilchard came close inshore. It’s a system that works just as well for the ‘trek fishermen’ of the Cape.
Another white building on the Head is home to the old lifeboat station. With its treacherous shore you’ll find lifeboats dotted all along the Cornish coastline. Perched on a cliff above Newquay Bay, the Towan Head station was once infamous for having the steepest slipway in all of the British Isles.
The steep cliffs that wrecked countless ships have been put to more playful use in recent years though, with the advent of ‘coasteering’. Clambering along rocky shorelines, swimming across calm inlets and leaping off high cliffs is all part of the fun in what has become a popular activity in sea-obsessed Newquay.
I’d rather be on the cliff than leaping off it though, so I stick to the gravelly path leading back towards Fistral. Off to my left, the historic Headland Hotel rises out of the grassy hills, almost unchanged since it was first built in 1897 at the height of the Victorian love-affair with ‘taking the air’ at the seaside.
It’s here that I meet Ben Ridding and Gemma Harris the next morning. From a cosy office in a corner of The Headland they run what has to be the happiest surf outfit in Cornwall; Surfing is Therapy.
Both experienced lifeguards and surfers, Surfing is Therapy sprang to life on a surf-trip to Costa Rica when it dawned on the couple that they could turn their passion into a profession.
And their enthusiasm for the sport, and the region, is infectious. Despite the patchy ceiling of grey cloud we’re wetsuited up and raring to go in no time. From the hotel it’s a two-minute walk down to Fistral Beach, where the wind has died and the swell is dishing up some reasonable two-foot breakers; a little sloppy, but certainly a wave or two on offer.
There are only two of us braving the water today, but even in the high season Surfing is Therapy pride themselves on not being a sausage-machine surf school.
“We only take small groups for surf lessons, with no more than 10 people at a time,” says Gemma. “Otherwise you just can’t give people enough attention to get them up and surfing.”
Private lessons are also available, along with our full-day ‘surfari’ exploring the area’s best breaks. After two hours in the water, and with the tide dropping, we decide to hit the road. From up on the hillside the view is spectacular, with coves and headlands giving the coastline the serrated edge of a postage stamp.
“Some of the bays can have nasty rips, especially on low-to-mid tides,” warns Gemma as we drive through Newquay to our next stop. “If you’re surfing on your own it’s a good idea to ask the locals or the lifeguards about any currents.”
There were no currents at our next stop, Mawgan Porth – ‘porth’ is Cornish for ‘beach’ – but the waves were breaking heavily as we stood and weighed up our options. With a mischievous smile and extreme (misplaced?) faith in my surfing abilities Gemma jogged confidently into the breakers. With my street-cred at stake there nothing I could do, but follow.
In retrospect, perhaps not one of my best judgement calls.
While the Cornish beach breaks are usually kind to beginners, when they’re dumping like Mawgan Porth only experienced surfers need apply. I ran, I paddled, I got dragged along the bottom like a tin can behind a car of randy newly-weds. To cut a long story short, the final score was Wave 1 – Richard 0.
When the late-afternoon waves rolled back into the sunset we decided to call it a day… time for a pint at one of Newquay’s beachfront bars, perhaps followed by dinner at Jamie Oliver’s restaurant ‘Fifteen’. Salty, sandy and shattered... just another perfect day on the surf breaks of Cornwall.
Travel advisory
- British Airways flies daily from Johannesburg and Cape Town to London. Visit www.ba.com
 .
- First Great Western railways operate a number of daily high-speed services from London Paddington to Cornwall. Visit www.firstgreatwestern.co.uk.
- For more information on Cornwall and Newquay go to www.visitcornwall.co.uk.
- You can book surf lessons, surf tours, accommodation and a range of other activities through Surfing is Therapy. Call 0944 1637 851517 or visit www.surfingistherapy.com. Half- and full-day ‘surfaris’ £30 & £50pp.
First published in the Sunday Times, May 2011 |
The green lightning is crackling beneath my feet as a thunderbolt tears open the Maputaland sky. It’s spring low tide and the warm waves wash over my feet, while the full moon is hiding behind the thick clouds scudding ahead of the south wind. Luminous phosphorescence fizzes across the rocks as the Loggerhead battles to find her way back out to sea. On the beach, our small group of turtle-tourists watches anxiously.
It’s been a tiring night for this ancient traveller. She’s hauled her unwieldy bulk above the high water mark and painstakingly dug her bell-shaped nest from the warm KwaZulu-Natal sand. Her eggs – up to 150 at a time – have been laid, and the nest carefully disguised to confuse the honey badgers and civet cats that will soon come in search of an easy meal.
Although she won’t be here to see it, in 60 days’ time her eggs will hatch and a new generation of turtles will take their chances with the ocean, emerging from the safety of their nest to scan the horizon for the telltale white glow of breaking waves. Ghost crabs and sea birds will pick off the stragglers, and just a handful will grow old enough to return to this beach to lay their own eggs.
It’s a scene that’s changed little in the last twenty million years, and with lightning in the sky and these dinosaurs on the beach it’s as exhilarating as any Big
Five game drive.
We’ve lucked out on spotting the enormous Leatherback turtles tonight, but with two more days on this stretch of KwaZulu-Natal coastline we’ll certainly be back.
Nesting turtles are one of the main draw cards of this northeast corner of South Africa, but it’s a stretch of sand that draws divers, families and simple get-away-from-it-allers in equal measure. Rustic campsites, national park chalets and community lodges dot the coastal forests of the iSimangaliso Wetland Park, but if you want to fall asleep to the rustle of the ocean there’s only one place you should head for.
Thonga Beach Lodge is one of the few lodges on this stretch of coastline with a sea view, and enjoys kilometres of pristine might-as-well-be-private beach to boot. A partnership between
tourism operator Isibindi Africa and the local Mabibi community (who own 51% of the business), it’s a good example of eco-tourism directly benefitting the people who call the area home.
Thonga has just 12 thatched chalets hidden away in the dune forest, and although few enjoy a sea view all offer private balconies and a never-ending soundtrack of birdsong emanating from the surrounding woodlands.
Lavender Feverberry, Coastal Silver Oak and Dune Jackalberry all grow with their toes in the sand, creating a paradise for twitchers. Purple-crested Touracos, Green Twinspots and Natal Robins all call these woods home. Thick-tailed Bushbabies and rare Samango monkeys are also found here, but it’s only the cheeky Vervets that make their presence felt, raiding what they can from our breakfast tables.
On a sundowner walk from the beach and up into the forest the eco-warrior in me smiles at the fact that it’s almost impossible to spot the lodge from any viewpoint. Just a few thatched roofs peek above the coastal forest that carpets the dunes, and the unwary are even warned not to walk straight past the lodge when returning home from a romantic moonlit walk!
Those golden sands are pretty hard to resist, but if – like me – you find it hard to sit still there’s a great array of activities on offer. A board near the bar lists what’s happening when, and it’s as simple as signing up and throwing on your board shorts!
Unsurprisingly, days at Thonga revolve around being out on the water… and what water it is. For a hypothermic Capetonian the prospect of diving in water warmer than 20°C immediately brings a smile to my face!
And at an hour’s boat ride north of Sodwana Bay, it’s no surprise that the diving around Thonga is superb.
There are just four main reefs to explore, but you’re guaranteed to have them all to yourself. The coral is in good nick, the visibility is usually well above 15-metres and the relatively shallow reefs (few are below 18-metres) make it a relaxed place to dive and a good spot to learn. It’s common to see loggerhead turtles, manta rays and dolphins underwater, and although it sounds impossible, we missed two whales by a whisker… I never would’ve thought it’d be so easy to hide a humpback! For non-divers, the shallow reefs also offer good snorkelling and there’s a sheltered reef just off the beach at Mabibi Point.
Whether you’re a bubble-blower or not, the Ocean Experience is a must. This watery ‘safari’ in the lodge’s powerful rigid-inflatable gets the blood pumping with an adrenalin-charged launch through the breakers, before zooming out past the backline in search of whales, dolphins and turtles. If you’re lucky, a curious whale shark might just stop by to investigate.
If you need to wash off all that salt, you can also join an excursion to nearby Lake Sibaya. The largest body of freshwater in southern Africa, the fact that it’s home to hippos and crocodiles shouldn’t put you off enjoying the daily kayak trips. While the guides will steer you well clear of any toothy residents, keep your eyes on the sky for Sibaya’s 279 bird species, including the rare Palm-nut Vulture and Pel’s Fishing Owl.
The Lake is about an hour’s drive from the beach, and the journey takes you through the heart of the local Mabibi community. While organised community visits are conducted daily, we simply asked our driver to point out the local landmarks on the way through. The new church under construction, the brightly-painted junior school, the chief’s house, the village veggie patches, his own house and cattle… it’s a refreshingly authentic way to experience the rhythm of local life in the hillsides behind the beach.
We return from our Sibaya sundowners to a candlelit dinner on the deck. The food at Thonga is unfailingly superb, with three-course dinners rounding off a busy day in the great outdoors.
But our day isn’t over yet… we’ve got a date with a Leatherback.
Turtle-drives on the beach are strictly controlled, and we have a narrow window around low tide – tonight it’s around midnight – to take our chances. Warmed by dinner and excited at the prospect of meeting the world’s largest sea turtle on terra firma, we wrap up warm and hop onto our trusty Land Cruiser. The beaches of Maputaland are waiting…
First published in Shape magazine, May 2011
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