Jen arrives at a peak, with the town of Montagu behind...and I suppose, below. Fortunately, that's not a growth
from her head.
Some think it’s a little dangerous living high in the mountains; others, like ourselves, worry more about traffic or muggers or both; while many don’t realize, if not dangerous, what might strike a person at ground level in rather modest and ordinary towns. Often, when traveling along highways, we decide to take a break, fill the car with gas or enjoy tea or a snack break. On our way from Gariep Dam, the largest in South Africa, heading toward Ficksburg, we decided to take a break and search for both relief and a refill. What’s the use of not keeping the body in balance, we say. The name Edenberg beckoned us from off the highway and we decided to give it a try. We had not heard anything about the place, ever, but thought from the signage displayed, it offered what we expected, perhaps even more—often the optimists...(continues at end)
On our return, an awfully steep section.
We enter into some serious negotiation although I was put in my place forthrightly.
Point made and taken.
A nice perspective of our position in relation to the town.
Off-trail but a rather difficult section although it may not appear as such.
A wonderful perspective of the track cut into the mountain.
Time for a quick peek until Mom shouts.
The editor carries a big stick...I wonder why.
The climbing was wonderful.
Dramatic landscapes.
A full frontal: Montagu.
We drove into the town and noticed a few low buildings, the usual type of gas-station and tearoom although they did look a little past their best. We decided to press on because often, the best of the town is deeper in, further from the highway. After traveling a while, it appeared we had misjudged a few things—the best was past in both time and place. The town went from decrepit to worse and then downright depressing. Nevertheless, we saw a sign advertising ‘coffeehouse’ and headed for it. If it wasn’t for the smile of the woman working the counter, well, standing behind the counter, I would have hit rock-bottom. I ordered a couple of hot beverages, watched as she wrote the order to herself, went into the back, did a few things because it does not take that long to pour from the urn into a cup and finally returned to re-enter on paper what she served—a rather sophisticated system of balances and checks and mostly, slow service.
While I held onto the hot cups, this was not the only liquid I had to worry about. Various pressures that had begun to build a while earlier took an impatient turn. I handed the cups to Jen, cranked the engine or it was probably me feeling cranky and sought a bathroom. Very often a bathroom is not available to a passerby but we are very comfortable in the outdoors—you could say we have gone completely green or should that be yellow or a truly healthy silver-white. Whatever the situation, we drove along the gravel pot-holed road slowly while balancing the hot cups. We noticed a building that seemed to offer the facility we sought, on its outskirts—I was becoming desperate. Unfortunately, as we rounded the corner, we realized it was a church. We knew we would need to hold back and show the proper respect.
On the other side of the building where we expected to find toilets, we were sorry to see that a funeral was in progress. Things were becoming most uncomfortable. Worse, there did not appear to be any sign of a little outhouse or building or sheltered spot, we sought. Meantime, I could not resist, either because I was thirsty or nervous, taking a few sips of coffee. While it was completely irrational, tending to exacerbate the issue, I was becoming rather erratic in my behavior. Wherever we spotted a seemingly available position (we are experienced in this art form), some person would come ambling down the road and cast his or her eyes upon us. We must have looked out of place; we certainly felt it. Finally, in desperation, we moved a bit away from the church property, did our double door open routine and I positioned myself between the doors, seizing relief before suffering possible seizures from within.
Having obtained the necessary relief, we took to the road and worked out where to stop to re-charge the phone with data. We planned a new route toward a large store in a city, part of a chain, which would add additional mileage to the journey. As we passed the ‘downtown area’ on our way back to the highway, we noticed a sign indicating the sale of data. It surprised us. We wondered if the invention of the telephone had arrived in the little town, nevermind the fact that they were selling data for the next generation of devices. We topped up the phone, felt a little foolish in asking the woman behind the counter to enter the necessary information and took off for Ficksburg, our next stop in the Free State. You never know where your needs may be satisfied.
Some days, we live under abnormal pressure, both internally and from the greater society.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
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