our goals. Perhaps our mantra is that if we don't sweat then the rewards are somewhat dissipated. Nevertheless,
there are times when we wish the Editor would be a little easier on us.
Last Friday and Sunday, we spent many hours in Giants Castle Game Park, another wonder of the Drakensberg.
Pictures and anecdotes will follow a few days after this blog, highlighting the results from another knock-out
set of experiences. Truth be told, too many of these knock-outs and yours truly will be laying on the ground,
knocked-out.
Set out below are pictures with some verbiage which we hope will give you an idea of the fun, quirks and
generally, our way of enjoying the precious gift of life.
"I'm sure I ordered fries with that. 'Bloody humans' are good for nothing. And how come there's never
any ketchup. Who eats fries with mustard? And...this really ticks me off...the grub's always cold. Talking
of ticks...Hey, sweetheart! I need you."
As an aside: Note the effectiveness of the animal tamper proof bin.
What can I do? He's a male after all.
"The junk food epidemic is worse than I thought. When he said let's go down to MacDonalds, I thought
he meant the farm...you know Old MacDonald's."
"His mother should see him; she'd turn in her grave. Father? He never knew him, good-for-nothing
female-chasing slob."
"Hold on a minute: Hey Bobbe, throw me a crust, I just had my incisors sharpened.
Okay, where we were? What was I barking?"
The signage tickles us. We covered the windscreen wipers with bark and trash bags.
We've heard of fetishes but this takes the rubber...cake.
We wondered if it's one particular crow with issues or is this specie-wide?
Security issues in the country have no boundaries.
Fortunately, on each visit to the park we have managed to conceal our rubbers safely.
Could an animal rights extremist group try rid cars of windscreen wipers?
With crows' ingestion of rubber: Will it affect those who 'eat crow' or how 'the crow flies'?
Are there implications for the condom industry? We don't know.
Most importantly, are we losing it—one hike too many, perhaps.
Talking of signage, we missed taking a photograph on the highway while passing through the Orange Free State.
It read, "DRIVE CAREFULLY WHEN WET."
This gave us much pause for thought. Are drivers who towel-dry, after a shower or swim, excused from driving
carefully?' Should people be made to drive damp in the interests of safety? Are dirty people better drivers?
Who knows? We spend much of our time puzzled, not only lost.
We got excited when we saw the following advert: “VIEW RHINOS AND ZEBRAS ON HORSEBACK.”
Imagine that. Can’t wait to see a female rhino ride side-saddle on a horse. What a country!
The 100th sleeping position on trail captured on film.
Seriously, we have been awarded a hiking prize which is about to be confirmed,
'The Southern Hemisphere's Laziest Hiker.' We don't intend this to go to the head. We will not
rest on our laurels...hmm!...actually, we will continue to rest until we clinch a similar award
in the northern hemisphere.
We're sitting in warm Harrismith at a petrol station,
Without a chair but have a full tank of gas and anticipation;
We're headed for the renowned and breathtaking Drakensberg,
Rather than homeward bound, we're sure you've heard.
We acknowledge and give thanks to Simon and Gar,
Who inspired our ditty a long time ago from afar;
We'll end our clumsy words by wishing you the best,
And look forward to seeing you upon returning West.
We were coming down a trail after a long hike and this dung beetle was moving upwards.
Jenni wondered to where he was rolling the dung. (Wonderful way to keep the trails cleaner.)
'Let's follow him,' we suggested. We did. His wife, or these days it seems one must say 'partner', came to the door.
"How was your day, Babe?' She asked.
'Different day, same old dung,' he replied.
There's nothing humorous about the following. We understand that there will always be poor people. However,
we are appalled and disgusted when the leadership misappropriates taxpayer funds in furthering their private
lusts while so many live in squalor. Freedom for whom? The reality is ugly.
The only store we saw while passing through this town.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
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