Beyond the clouds

'There is a jubilation at feeling like the only person in the world, cycling carefree down a cool road at dawn. It was good to be free. I felt lucky to have time to lie back on the earth watching clouds metamorphose in the sky, to watch ants enjoying my bread crumbs, to listen to the wind in the yellow grass and feel it fresh on my sweat'

(Al Humphries, excerpt from 'Moods of future joys')

I remember Dan once telling me about a day he'd spent on a bike in South America (I think it was Ecuador). He'd started at high altitude
and rolled downhill all day, passing through successive habitats and
vegetation as he got lower and lower. Ever since then I'd wanted to do something similar, today would be that day. Initially though I'd be continuing further along the edge of the Drakensberg escarpment through a town called Sabie. After this there was apparently a pretty hefty climb before the road finally veered southeast and headed downhill through eucalyptus plantations and orange groves, all the way to the city of Nelspruit in the Lowveld far below.
I was sad to have to leave my cosy igloo in Graskop. Nick and his family had been great people to stay with and I suppose I ought to admit it had been nice to spend a couple of nights in a place that reminded me a little of Europe, both in climate and appearance. Graskop was very like Switzerland/Scotland, except it had baboons. However, one of the reasons I'd come on this trip had been to experience new places and test myself and if it had all been as nice and easy as the last thirty-six hours then I guess I'd actually have been quite disappointed. Still it had been nice to be able to properly relax for a short time.

Early morning up in the mountains was magical and even better than the usual dawn. The air was crisp, cool and very still, I could easily hear the early morning birds singing, there was nobody about. In fact I don't believe I saw a soul for almost the first hour! The road gently wound along the edges of grassy mountainsides occasionally passing through stands of conifer trees and past cool bubbling streams, how amazing it would have been to pass one of these just one week ago. Riding through this landscape now it's hard to believe I'd covered the first thousand kilometres without seeing a single stretch of running water!

I started the day riding a couple of kilometres west of what you might call the true edge of the escarpment. As I travelled further south this geologic feature began to loose its starkness and as the day went on would progressively loose it's identity and eventually cease to exist altogether. For the moment, however, I was treated to frequent glimpses along wooded valleys out to the Lowveld in the east. To make these stunning views yet more stunning a cloud inversion had been laid on for me this morning. This is where you’re high enough to be above the clouds and look down on a white fluffy sea as if you’re flying in an aeroplane. If you've ever spent much time in the mountains you'll like as not have witnessed this phenomenon for yourself and will know what I mean, if you haven't... well you need to, you're really missing out.

It was still early and I was planning to have breakfast (pancakes of course) in Sabie, but first I had somewhere rather amazing to visit. The Mac Mac falls. It’s not just me that has to find a route down from this high ground and over the side of the escarpment, all the little streams and rivers I’m passing do too. So in addition to the amazing geology of the area there are some pretty fantastic water falls hereabouts as the water drops over the side and pours onto the Lowveld below.

The Mac Mac falls are one of the most famous of these. I'm not sure why this is. It’s true they're pretty high (65 metres) but they’re not the highest (there's another one at over 90 metres!). Perhaps they’re regarded as the most beautiful and if so I can see why. They’re pretty stunning. The falls begin flush to the surrounding terrain and I think it might be fairly easy to ride straight past them without ever realising they were there at all. The approach is down a small footpath signposted off the main road. Its a good thing I'd read about the falls before leaving England, I'm travelling without a guide book and I would otherwise definitely have missed the small brown sign saying 'Mac Mac'. I’m glad I didn't.

The approach from the road is along the edge of a deep gorge, this is so deep that there’s very little sound to betray the fall’s presence until the very last moment and when you do get there it seems strange that you could have made it so close before realising what you were about to see. It must have been pretty well fantastic before the days of sign posts and guidebooks, for unsuspecting visitors who would very likely have been traveling along the edge of the gorge without the prior warning I'd been party to. Whenever I see huge waterfalls I always find it quite mesmerising how peaceful the water appears above the falls, just meandering and drifting along minding it's own business seemingly completely unaware of the approaching menace even as it begins to curve down and cross the event horizon. Standing close to the top the water seemed strangely silent as it approached the edge initially seeming to fall without sound, like a fragile glass dropped from an outstretched hand, accelerating faster and faster until it finally reached the flat hard pool far below, violently shattering into a foaming white raging noise.

I was stood on the edge of a large cliff looking over the gorge with the falls at the Western end to my left. Further down, just in front of me, were hundreds of swifts screaming all around the void between the sides of the gorge, I couldn’t tell which species (unlike Europe, Africa is a bit greedy when it comes to numbers of swift species and seems not to be content to settle for just one sleek black bat-mobile style model) looking further to my right about three hundred metres away the edge of the clouds lapped the floor of the gorge like a calm sea in a sheltered inlet. This spot is one of the big attractions in this part of South Africa and I would guess is usually pretty busy, but it was only just gone seven o’clock and for now it was just me and the swifts. The joys of early morning bike rides eh!

Sabie was not much further beyond the falls, but was at the bottom of a pretty long and steep hill. By the time I was tucking into pancakes, bananas and coffee I’d chalked up a new max speed for the journey – 75.4km/hr – on a heavily leaden bike that had been a pretty exciting tuck! The powerful one may be steady, but he ain’t slow.

Sabie is a really nice place and has a great bike shop (Cycle Junkies – get a big thumbs up from me!) I’d noticed my rear tyre was becoming a bit worn (it had taken me all the way to Edinburgh and Land’s End on top of getting me here from the Atlantic) so I’d stopped in to see if they had any spare folding slick tyres, sadly I was out of luck, but they did give me loads of advice for the road ahead and helped me book a car for tomorrow (no, I’m not planning to cheat, I’ve got a day off and have a plan to probably double or triple the length of the ‘beasties’ list – all will be revealed). One thing they did warn me about though was a massive hill just outside Sabie. Earlier in this trip I might have been pretty disheartened to hear this, but now I relished the challenge. It’s a great feeling when people tell you their local hill is really tough and there’s no way I’ll make it up with my heavy bike… and then you promptly go out and nail the bugger! Well these guys were right, their hill was pretty steep and it was pretty long, but I made it up in one go, no pushing. Another local legend bites the dust!

Unfortunately Grendel’s mother had her revenge. By the time I’d reached the top of the hill I was baking and opted to take a bottle shower to cool off. This is basically involves holding a full water bottle upside down over your head and rubbing all the water into your hair till it runs down all over your clothes soaking you to the skin (Kind of obvious I suppose). Anyway this is really not possible with a pair of sunglasses plonked on your bonce so I left these perched on top of the water bags (please note these were my little brother’s Oakleys, lent to me for the trip – you can see where this is going right?). Heading off down the road I felt very cool and refreshed, but quickly noticed how bright things appeared after my shower. Bugger! Sunnies no longer on the back of the bike! Turn around! Hopefully they’ll be easy to find. Trouble was I’d taken my time in Sabie and it was well past ten o’clock by now and there were a few cars about. I decided to ride on the wrong side of the road, hoping to persuade any approaching vehicles to cross the road and potentially save the sunnies from certain death. I saw them, a black spec about two hundred metres away, right in the middle of the carriage way… with a huge lorry about fifty metres further on! I was undone! The final tragedy of it all was that, had I stayed on the correct side of the road all would probably have been OK. The lorry had been lined up to pass its massive tyres either side of the glasses, until the driver spotted me that was and moved across the road to avoid me. Thermonuclear protection perhaps, but no match for the tyres of a juggernaut. They were completely obliterated.

I still had a lot of descending fast descending to do before I reached Nelspruit, I’d be wearing deserts and goggles the rest of the day.

The rest of the day passed quickly. I stopped off at a lovely place called the artists café, hidden away in the trees next to the tracks of a mountain railway, a couple of hundred metres to the side of the road (since leaving Graskop I’d been crossing and re-crossing a mountain rail line used to transport timber from the mountains, further adding to the impression I was riding through Switzerland). I’d almost ridden straight past the café but am glad I didn’t. It was a really lovely spot and I met a group of ladies who invited me to dinner in Witriver (just north of Nelspruit) the following evening.

From the cafe it was downhill all the way to Nelspruit about fifty kilometres away. Dropping out of the high grassy conifer landscape the air slowly thickened as I passed, first through eucalyptus plantations, massive trees which smelt amazing, then through orange plantations followed by avocados and finally just as I entered Nelspruit I spotted one of the new stadiums being built for the world cup. A great descent, pretty steep in parts and by the time I was weaving my way through the urban traffic jams of the city I’d pushed the max speed up to 78.5km/hr (that had been through the eucalyptus and a very aromatic cocoon).

After a few relaxing days in the cool mountains I was back in the heat of Africa and tomorrow I was off to find Lions!

On the grassy knoll

I woke up early in the igloo. It was still dark outside so I lit a
candle and made coffee. I was still loving the early mornings and
opened the igloo door and listened to the frogs packing up their
instruments whilst the birds tuned up for their shift. I wrote some of
the blog while waiting for my coffee to cool, the light of the candle
was more than sufficient for this since the iPhone is back lit and
this allowed me to observe the slow increase in the daylight outside.
A pair of those chunky and noisy ibis like birds I'd seen on the climb
up from Mokopane were patrolling the (very English looking) lawn
outside my door, probing the soil for worms with their long curved
beaks. I really should find out what they are so you can see what they
look like.

I met Johann(from the old shoe) for breakfast (Boboti pancakes, Mmmm)
in 'Downtown' Graskop. He does a lot of exploring by motorbike so I
took the opportunity to mine him for information and tips on types of
motorbikes and how to build them. There are seeds of a plan
germinating in my mind. He's also planning a bike trip (pedal-powered)
down the length of Sweden. I sure hope he likes looking at trees! As
far as I'm aware most of Sweden is flat and covered in forest, a bit
like a cold kalahari.

After breakfast I went in search of the Mopane worm. I'd heard this is
something one should try around these parts. In fact I think I
probably first passed into the region they're eaten in as far back as
the Okavango, but had forgotten to look for the beasts. I eventually
found someone who was prepared to sell me some, most people I asked
were more than a little surprised at my request. I'd kind of expected
these worms would be the sort of thing tourists would all be after and
hence quite easy to track down, but it seems not. Perhaps they're
still a little obscure and people don't know about them yet, to be
honest I can't remember where it was I first heard about them. I don't
really know all that much about mopane worms. I think they're a type
of silk worm, so look like a big maggot about the length of an index
finger and thick as a thumb. The ones I got hold of were dried and
were a very dark colour with spots down their flanks and little black
shiny heads.

...and just in case any of you are still wondering... aye thats right
they's fae the eatin! Mmm! Crunchy, dry as a Jacobs cracker, tasting
of bark with a hint of bacon. Not unpleasant, but not exactly what I'd
call particularly tasty. I'm not sure you'd really want them as your
staple diet. Don't worry, I've brought a kilo of them back so you can
all try one! No need for anyone to miss out!

In the afternoon the owner of the igloo, Nick van der Merwe, Dave's
stunt double. Dr Harvenparpikkie kindly offered to show me the view
from Gods Window which I'd missed as a consequence of yesterday's
night ride. He knew loads about the local plants, among other things
pointing out Koral trees, which are quite thin spindly things often
growing with their branches intertwined among other trees and would
probably go unnoticed were it not for their vivid scarlet flowers
which stick out from the surrounding greenery.

The final part of the climb up to God's Window was through a cloud
forest (though it wasn't actually cloudy today) and this was a bit of
a highlight for me. Cloud forests are a bit like rainforests except
they generally exist at higher altitudes and instead of being watered
by self-produced rain (as rainforests are) they get a lot of their
water, rather unsuprisingly from clouds. There's a cloud forest
section of the Princess of Wales conservatory at Kew, which has always
been one of my favourites so to be able to walk through a real one was
a bit of a treat. The most striking thing about this vegetation are
the small plants growing on other plants. They're everywhere (this is
most certainly not a desert!) the high moisture content of the air
means many of these plants have evolved to hang their roots down from
whichever branch they happen to be growing on and amazingly are able
to collect enough liquid to maintain transpiration through this
technique.

There were of course numerous bird sounds and even daylight frog calls
(I think). The bird Nick really wanted to point out to me was the
Scarlet Winged Sparrow. Apparently these are quite rare, but unusually
common in this area and a bit of a source of local pride. Though
they're called sparrows they're actually more like blackbird/starling
size and certainly behave like mischevious starlings. At first glance,
hopping about on the ground they look pretty dull, a kind of black/
brown colour, but it's when they take to the air that their full glory
is displayed with vivid red flight-feathers suddenly flashing into
view. The other bird, which I didn't see, as it's migratory and I was
here at the wrong time of year, is the blue swallow. This bird really
is well known in this area and Nick told me he'd put up several
travellers who came with the expressed purpose just to see this wee
creature. I can't of course describe it first hand, but I'm
confidently informed that the blue swallow is blue and looks like a
swallow.

We had a braai in the evening (Dave, I'm not sure they do lasagne down
here, but if they do I'm sure Nicks is great!) and ate lots of marula
nuts (and of course lots of meat). It had been an excellent relaxed
day off and I was sad I couldn't stay longer, Graskop is a really nice
place. I do envy those travellers who just make a plan to head off
somewhere, but have no timetable so when they find a nice spot are
able to just hang about as long as they like until they feel the urge
to move on once more. I guess that's the only way to really get to
know somewhere properly and it takes a lot of time. It may come as a
bit of a surprise that I'm now almost beginning to feel a bit like I'm
moving too fast. I know I'm going to be travelling almost a month and
a bike is a great way to see many of the things one misses by driving,
but I am after all crossing a continent so there will inevitably be
things I have to miss and places I'll want to stay longer than I'm able.

One more night in the igloo then back on the road. Tomorrow I'll be
heading south to the city of Nelspruit in the hot lowveld. The hard
deck is set over a kilometer below my current position... so plenty of
downhill and plenty of speed!

Baboons on the road

Luckily they always ran. Not sure what i'd have done if they decided to stand and fight. A dominant male Baboon has bigger canines than a Lion!

High mountain grassland

This is high on the escarpment, which drops away steeply to the lowveld, about a kilometer to the right of this shot. You can see the road to Graskop in the distance. I think you'll agree this is a nice change after three weeks of desert?

Hornbill

As requested Jon, here's looking at you. This is a Southern Yellow Billed Hornbill (back at the Rhinos). I see these all the time walking along by the side of the road.

Final resting place of an intrepid Dorey

The set for this christmas' Wallace and Gromit film?