A 60 km saunter is no walk in the park.
Over last weekend, millions of people from around the world got together to do their bit in solving the climate crisis. There were more than 6000 events happening in 188 countries as the world united to make some noise for our struggling planet. At 09h30 on Thursday morning a very diverse group of 40 individuals set off on a 60 km walk from Blaauwberg to Darling for the Rocking the Daisies festival as part of the Global Work Party.
Rocking the Daisies, a well known music festival that just hit its five year mark, is more than just a massive party. It promotes environmental awareness and encourages the youth to have fun without harming the earth. Walking the Daisies is an entirely eco-friendly way of doing just that.
Nathan the chief co-coordinator briefed us on the goals and importance of our efforts and introduced the other guides. They explained that according to scientists, 350 parts carbon per million is the safe upper limit of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere. We are currently at 390, 80% of which come from energy usage, and will increase with industrial growth. So while we’re jetting off from one appointment to the next in our fancy rides, the earth is coughing violently. We can see her suffering in the climate change.
We were split into teams and handed representing hemp t-shirts, poprock capes (yes, full on ankle length capes) and huge colorful daisies made of cane and fabric.
The salty ocean air was chilly and moist as we started our trek on the cool soft sand along the beach. The walkers mingled excitedly, daisies held high. I met Bruno, an Argentinean social science student in an exchange program. His course brought him to Cape Town to explore social and political policies. I’m sure his reports will raise eyebrows, considering. I also met Didintle (or Didi), a hard working city girl rich with local flavour, Mary, who works in social development coordinating skill building programs in rural areas in and around South Africa and Mel, a British chick who fell in love with Cape Town after an extended holiday and who came back to build a career as a writer.
My calves throbbed by the fifth hour of digging our way up the coast. The guides made a special arrangement to avoid the road and extended the beach stretch because it was “˜prettier’. My glutes disagreed – strongly.
We passed through Koeberg Nature Reserve and parked on a grass patch for lunch, then made our way back down to continue our journey on the shoreline.
By four in the afternoon, the group was anything but social. I staggered to keep up in the tail end of the group, forcing my legs forward against the blustery weather. Didi pushed on next to me, gripping her cane daisy now waving wildly in the wind. Even the boys with capes in the A-team ahead struggled.
By 18h00 we dragged our limp sand-beaten bodies into Silverstroom campsite just off the beach. We were lulled in by the sweet acoustic tunes of Josh Grierson and the fetching smell that sang of supper.
We gobbled the variety of meat and crunchy chunks of vegetables, then huddled around the fire enjoying the warmth, the waves and The Little Kings.
We rose early on Friday morning. The fresh crisp ocean wakes you up like no cuppa can. After breakfast, we all posed for our walker debut pic then hit the road full of steam and excitement for the evening ahead.
The wind had settled and by 11h00 the clouds gave way to a sunny day. I had never been more grateful for solid ground, as was the rest. The chatter grew lively and the group seemed collected. Dave the naked botanist taught us about havae, schroffs and many other fascinating plants – the Latin names escape me. He had done the entire stretch barefoot as shoes themselves are environmentally inconsiderate – yikes.
We passed through Mamre at around 13h00 and ate lunch in the well kept little park. After cooling off for a bit we hit the stretch of tar ahead and the team marched on”¦
“¦and on”¦
“¦and on”¦
With no breeze on a cloudless day, the sun became a tad harsh. Feet tender, backs burnt but little could dampen the spirits of the climate campers. With only a few hours to go exhaustion evaporated into molecules of crazy that hung thick in the air. This was the point at which Dave was dubbed the naked botanist and continued to educate us ever so passionately about the colorful stems and flowers sprouted sporadically, wearing nothing but his beard as though it is the most natural thing in the world.
As we hit the dirt road leading to the main entrance of the festival, we could hear the music in the distance. The cars making their way to the gates hooted as they drove by. Sunburned and disheveled, we were welcomed with such warmth and support as everyone we passed congratulated us for our efforts and achievement. We were invited onto the main stage to be celebrated some more and were showered with free stuff.
The festival was amazing and was every bit the splash of colour it promised to be, but I can’t help feeling that the walkers got the best of it. For the hard-set city slickers seeking some adventure, this was an opportunity to help give voice to our once lush, fertile planet, to move from the comfort of convenience and stretch our legs, and to make friends. I felt at home all weekend because of familiar faces in every corner. Bound by the 60 km stride that tore muscles we didn’t even know we had, we all left a little wiser.
