Wandering Footsteps: Wandering the World One Step at a Time » A travel journal following a family on their overland trip around the world.

The Wild Coast

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After a journey through the desert, into historical Colonial towns, down through gorges and rivers, up over mountain passes, and into national parks and enchanted forests, Bruno and I had finally reached our goal: the beach.
We arrived on the Wild Coast of South Africa on January 31st at precisely 4pm, a mere 8 hours before the deadline I had secretly set for us.  I had been dreaming of this moment since late December, while I nursed myself back to health in Windhoek, and setting myself a date of arrival helped then, and during all those difficult desert moments.  I dreamed of the cool, humid breeze, endless beach walks, the bright colors of flowers and trees that were not lacking in water… I didn’t wish the month of January away, exactly, but I certainly had my sights set on February.
You can thus imagine my excitement and relief upon seeing that glittery turquoise water off in the distance as we approached East London.  It looked almost like a mirage created by the misty, dark blue sky.  But it wasn’t!  We had arrived!  Without thinking twice, we bypassed East London and headed straight for the first nice beach along the Wild Coast.  The large, green campsite at Buccaneers Backpackers in Chintsa West ended up being our home for 6 days, the longest we had spent anywhere since Windhoek.  As the sound of the waves just beyond our campsite soothed our traveling spirits, the pace and rhythm of life gradually slowed to a lull.  We had been traveling so quickly for so many weeks, rarely staying more than a couple days in each place, but the slow, chilled-out vibe of the beach was so intoxicating that we couldn’t have moved faster if we’d wanted to.  It was as though we were on a tropical vacation, doing not much more than taking walks on the beach, reading books, doing yoga, and watching the animals, plants, and days go by.
Buccaneers is supposedly one of the best backpackers in Southern Africa, and it didn’t disappoint us.  We parked ourselves under an old, shade-giving tree, with the jungly sand-dune just beyond.  During our week, we shared our campsite more often with pigs and monkeys than people.  There was only one bathroom, and often, a monkey was standing at the mirror doing his morning facial-cleansing routine, and I had to wait my turn.  The monkeys were on this land long before me, so I didn’t mind waiting.  One night, I fed the pigs butternut squash skins – they crunched away happily, and returned the next morning for more.  Twice, we watched the vervet monkeys leap 5 meters in the air from one tree to another, some with babies hanging on to their mommies’ stomachs!

Every morning, after a healthy breakfast of fruit, homemade muesli, yogurt, tea, coffee, and juice, we would head to the beach for a walk.  Aesthetically, Chintsa Bay was an ideal beach for me.  In the center, the Chintsa River opens up into the ocean.  If you walk to the right, you quickly encounter the rocky section of the beach, where you can explore the tidal pools and sift through shells.  If you walk to the left, you encounter nothing but soft golden backed by dense forested hills for miles.  Some mornings we would walk right – Bruno’s favorite – and some morning we walked in my favorite direction. 

After our walk, we would often do some sort of activity.  One morning, we canoed up the Chintsa River, past the grasslands, turning around only when the river dried up.  A few times, we walked across the river to Chintsa East for a bit of grocery shopping and a piece of heavenly carrot cake.  Another morning, we headed to the once-monthly Sunday Market, called Tea in the Trees.  I really enjoyed this market, because it had gourmet bread and cheeses, beeswax candles, and delicious natural body lotion.  There was also a free concert on their stage, which was quaintly constructed in the forest, with tree stumps as seats.  On this morning, a group of 12 young local children performed Western classical and African traditional music on woodwinds and marimbas.  They are part of the Keiskamma Trust, an organization that supports talented children of HIV-positive parents in getting a decent music education.
During the lazy afternoons of our lazy beach days, we read, did yoga on the beach, and cooked simple vegetarian meals.  A game of cards or a bit of star-gazing rounded off our days.
The pace of our days, relaxing.  The goal of our days, simplicity. 
I could have stayed here for a lot longer, but the curiosity which comes with the possibility of discovering new and wonderful places pushed us onwards to Dwesa Nature Reserve, 100km up the coast.  This may seem like a quick-and-easy drive, but there is no coastal road in the Wild Coast, as the coast is just that – wild.  It is filled with indigenous forests, red-rocked cliffs, and lumpy, creviced hills.  We were forced to head back to the main highway, before exiting onto the very bumpy gravel roads that wind through the aforementioned hills on their way to the ocean.  It had rained recently, so there were deep tire marks of dried mud to bump over.  And there were very stubborn (or very brave) cows all over the road, holding firm and not moving, thereby forcing us to weave around them. Our final 45km took 3 hours.
Thankfully, the scenery was interesting.  We were driving through Xhosa territory, or the Transkei, as it was called during the 1950s Homelands camping of the Apartheid regime.  A large portion of ethnic Xhosa people were resettled here, and here they remain, on communal tribal lands.  The Xhosa are one of the most influential ethnic groups in South Africa (Nelson Mandela, whose autobiography, Long Road to Freedom, I am currently reading, is a Xhosa).  The Xhosa’s language is filled with those “click” sounds that people often associate with African languages – even the word “Xhosa” is pronounced with a click instead of the “Xh”.  They are a fairly traditional society, often living in simple round or rectangular one-roomed homes, collecting rainwater in large green plastic tanks, and herding cattle, sheep, and goats.  As I scanned the landscape, the first thing that jumped out at me was the bright colors of the homes – violet, salmon, turquoise, even neon orange, green and pink!  According to Mandela’s book, families often painted their houses brightly in order to differentiate their otherwise uniform homes from those of their neighbors’.  The next thing that jumped out at me was that many of the people had some sort of whitish paste rubbed onto their faces.  I do not know the reason for it – sun protection or cultural – but it gave them a dark underworld-type look.
And the final thing that really jumped out at me was just how many people there were!  I don’t know if this was more shocking because Bruno and I had traveled through very unpopulated areas, but I stared at the amount of people walking alongside the road and the quantity of houses in sheer disbelief.  The land is surely seeing the effects of this overpopulation, for the indigenous forests which once covered these hills have been devastated.  The cattle have staked their claim over the hillside as well as the roads in Xhosaland.
I understand that the livelihood of the Xhosa people depends largely on these cattle, but it was distressing to see the cattle grazing within the boundaries of the Dwesa Nature Reserve.  The point of a reserve is to put away land, to rescue it from the grips of civilization and to preserve it, in its original state, for generations to come.  This was not the case at Dwesa.  We enjoyed our two nights there, as we got to walk along deserted beaches (well, deserted except for the leopard footprints we saw!) and do some bush camping, but it was evident that the priorities of those in charge of the reserve were not on straight.  The only pamphlet at the reception was one announcing best and worst times to fish, and the types of fish available along the coast of the reserve.
And so we headed back onto the dirt roads of the Wild Coast, through Xhosa land again, and further up the coast, to Coffee Bay.  This place has long been popular with backpackers, and I could unfortunately see the negative effects we tourists have had on the place.  From the minute we drove into Coffee Bay, we could feel the bad vibe.  We checked out the campsites in our guide book, and all of them reeked of the drug-trance scene.  Thankfully, there was a caravan park on the other side of town that was beautifully located in the only remnants of indigenous forest in the area.  Stunning to camp in, but OH the mosquitoes!  I come from New Brunswick, and therefore have a high mosquito-tolerance, but this was unbearable!  From dawn until dusk, and dusk until dawn, mosquitoes, mosquitoes, mosquitoes!  At night, I dreamed of mosquitoes, I could hear them buzzing around my ears, and I swatted at real (and imaginary) ones in vain all night.  During the day, I invented reasons to be inside the camper, and I even suggested a minibus ride to the supermarket, 14km away, in order to be away from the mosquitoes!  Those of you who have taken a minibus in Africa know that to suggest a ride in one means that the alternative is very, very bad.  For these are harrowing rides, driven by maniacal, suicidal drivers in disintegrating, broken down vans.  Since I am writing this blog, it means that we made it back in one piece, and it was actually a fun cultural experience to sit, crammed like sardines, in the van, listening to the Xhosa clicks being yelled into your ear from people who know no low-volume when they speak, as the driver whizzes over the windy, potholed, cow-filled roads.  Poor Bruno, who was the brunt of my ill-conceived plans.
We didn’t stay in Coffee Bay long, but we did stay long enough to visit the infamous “Hole in the Wall”. 10km down the coast from Coffee Bay, this cliff has been so eroded by waves crashing onto it for thousands of years that there is a giant hole in the center of the cliff, large enough for a small boat to pass through!   It was an absolutely beautiful sight to behold, especially as it was surrounded by a stunning beach with all those essential Wild Coast elements – red cliffs, blue water with large white waves, a river flowing into the sea, and dense indigenous forest all around.
To get to Hole in the Wall, Bruno and I opted to walk rather than drive.  There is a famous hiking trail all along the Wild Coast, and ever since I had read about, I’d been trying to find an occasion to do at least a small part of it.  Thankfully, we didn’t set out to do more, for, as it was, I was almost biting off more than I could chew!  This 20km walk (there and back) was an up-and-down journey, over those lumpy hills that I mentioned are everywhere in the Transkei.  By the end of the walk, my legs were shaking and my sweaty face was blotchy and red.  Good thing I don’t have a fear or heights, because the “walking trail” was often really the path the mountain goats had carved in the grass on the edge of the cliff overlooking the Indian Ocean! 

Despite the difficulty of the walk (for me, that is – Bruno was a mountain goat in his past life!), it was well worthwhile.  Besides the satisfaction of successfully completing a challenge and the greater beauty of seeing the Hole in the Wall after a 3-hour hike (rather than a 20 minute drive), the journey itself was beautiful and interesting.  From the top of the hills, we could see far off into the ocean and the distant hills.  We saw a group of dolphins surfing in the waves.  And we got to walk through the Xhosa villages, thereby getting an even closer look into village life than on our drives.  At times, we were followed by young children, who pointed the way and offered us smiles and “thumbs-ups”.  At other times, we were harassed by teenage boys offering to be our guidse or begging for spare change.  Always, we were stared at by the adults whose homes we passed, and always, we stared back, smiling and saying hello (in English, of course – saying it in Xhosa probably involves a click or two and my mouth just can’t wrap its tongue around that!)
We left Coffee bay yesterday, and drove through Mthatha (Mandela territory) on our way to Port St. John.  This is likely our last stop in the Wild Coast before we head onwards to Zululand (the other influential, and even more infamous, ethnic group of South Africa).  Right now, we’re just outside of town, catching up on laundry, emails, vehicle maintenance, and blogging of course.  I am looking out onto a river backed by those now-familiar red-rocked, foresty cliffs – not too shabby for a place to do a bit of work!  Tomorrow, we will head into Port St. John.  Maybe we’ll stay a few days.  Word is there are a few waterfalls, a walking trail, and a nature reserve to explore, not to mention a river and an ocean. 

I have been so fortunate to be able to explore the natural and cultural beauty of the Wild Coast, as many before me have done.  But my time here, in the first touristy region that Bruno and I have seen together, has reminded me to be a mindful tourist.  Too often, tourists give the wrong impression to local communities.  We are often seen only as rich, promiscuous, drug-and-alcohol-addicted white people, and that’s because that’s the face we give off when we travel.  We indulge in partying, because – hey – we’re on holiday.  And then we give money for no reason to the locals, because – hey – they are poor and we feel bad.  But this creates tourist communities filled with locals begging, selling drugs, and often harassing or becoming aggressive, and that is not the type of place I want to be a part of.  If I am to continue being a tourist, I want to make sure to be a responsible one, dispersing my money to people and organizations who work hard and honestly, and helping to recreate the image of a tourist into one who is respectful of the local environment and the customs of the local people.

 
 
 

  • moveebuff - Hi Brittany…just read your blog which was very descriptive and it sounds like your still having an amazing adventure….lucky you!!! The best part was seeing a picture of you and Bruno! Finally I can put a face on the name. xoReplyCancel

  • Anonymous - Very interesting blog Brittany .Great photos. Loved to hear about Mandela. I will also be reading that book..Happy that you also include the wildlife in your blog. (With such respect)
    MurielleReplyCancel

  • Ryan - Well written. Thanks 🙂ReplyCancel