I was the first one up this morning which if my memory serves me (and it may well not) is unprecedented in 38 days. After a quick breakfast we left Aquila and headed for coffee in Montagu, aiming for a decent 3G connection and a chance to catch up on some work.
We ended up at a friendly little farm stall called “˜The Orchard’ where I had a sensationally good fruit shake and, while the film crew got some more driving shots, managed to get a decent amount of writing done in the shaded, peaceful tea garden.
We arrived in Struisbaai about two hours later to find the little seaside town completely blanketed in thick, muffling fog. Struisbaai is home to the largest natural beach in the Southern Hemisphere. 14 uninterrupted kilometres of it apparently. Through the gloom I could just about see the first 40 metres so I’ll have to take the brochure’s word for it.
Down at the harbour, Jan picked up some Red Roman straight off an incoming boat and we moved on to Cape Agulhas just as the fog began to lift. In minutes it had burnt off completely and we drove the 5 or so kilometres around the bay in the suddenly glorious sunshine, en route to the southernmost tip of Africa.
Our accommodation, courtesy of SANParks, was at the desolate, beautiful, but well-appointed and comfortably furnished, Lagoon House. Completely isolated on a small peninsular some 10 kilometres from the Cape Agulhas lighthouse and within sight of the southern tip, the solid, white-washed cottage dates back to 1898 and now sleeps seven, very comfortably indeed.
The fish were delicious. Caught that day less than 20 minutes drive away by a small, local fishing boat, and braaied just a few kilometres from the bottom of Africa – this was braaing like we wish it could always be done.
Our SANParks hosts joined us for dinner and we were regaled with ghost stories while the drinks flowed. The story that stuck with me was of the Far Eastern princess, shipwrecked and somehow left behind on these shores when her surviving compatriots had departed for Cape Town, who’s bejewelled body was found washed up in the nearby lagoon, perhaps murdered by the jealous wife of her burger lover.
If the resident ghost visited that night, none of us noticed. You probably have to ghost it up quite hard to make yourself felt over two bottles of brandy, and I don’t think our eastern princess was really up to the task.
By the time we were up and at it in the morning, all thoughts of ghosts were long forgotten and it was time to start planning our penultimate day’s activities, with the prospect of heavy Cape rain threatening to mess with our early snoek-boat appointment and subsequent braai in nearby Hermanus.
