Day 65- Cape Town, South Africa

This is the end. The tour reaches Cape Point- the literal and symbolic end of the trip. A take a quick trip up to the upper cliffs of the the Point, noting the various historical reasons why it is so important. But this is one of those moments where the symbolism is so much more important than the view (although it is magnificent), or who landed where in 1765.

Then on to Cape Town. Finally a ´real city´, as some people in the group point out. Functioning ATMs, trendy clothing stores, backpacker hostels and flash hotels. It could be Europe. Well, on the surface at least.

But it´s definitely not London or Paris- the baton wielding "public safety officers" on each corner are testament to that. A taxi is the recommended conveyance for even a small trip down the main street after dark. And every few steps there is the reason- the drug dealers, the beggars, the drifters. The down-and-out and the I-dont-give-a-fuck. At the same time I am reminded why I love city life, and why I detest it. Espressos and pan-handlers. Book stores and porno theatres. Beautiful women and jeering catcalls.

A friend and I toy with the idea of climbing Table Mountain. The plan is to do it on our last day in Cape Town, and thus mark our final day of the African odyssey. But with notoriously fickle weather, we decide to take advantage of a fine day and tackle it right off.

The climb is a lot harder than I imagined. Table Mountain is 1000 metres, but it is a sheer cliff, which means that the walking track requires a 3 kilometre haul zig-zagging across the rock face, clambering over a roughly hewn path of rocks and scree. The preceding 8 weeks of far more than expected drinking and snacking (largely of the salted, packeted variety) along with overly carb-heavy, oily meals and a massive decrease in exercise levels means I am woefully out of shape. We need frequent stops on the ascent, pausing to snatch ragged strips of thin air and lean against the great rocks for cool relief.

Why did I think this was a good idea? The others took the cable car to the top. Why didn´t I? And then, the answer. Emerging into the sun I am suddenly at the top of Table Mountain. The physical pain is instantly gone and I feel insanely euphoric- Sam and I even exchange high-fives, and there may have even been a man-hug. Another view to end all views. But with something else- the satisfaction of having earned it. I feel I have marked my trip end in style.

Days 54-63: Namibia

I am starting to run out superlatives in describing this trip, but what I have seen in Namibia has been nothing short of stunning. There´s a couple of reasons why I have found it so amazing.

The first is that it has been totally unexpected- you hear nothing of Namibia as a tourist destination. Nor has it been in the news for the murderous regime of some despotic madman or tribal massacres, the kind of tragedies which are always made out to be so much worse if they happen somewhere beautiful.

So I was expecting a sort of South Africa-lite travel experience. Lots of game parks with springboks, impala and oryx. And this is true, at least in the northern part of the country. But it changes.

Fertile plains become dusty desert, stark rocksacpes and yawning canyons. Places that could just as well be on the moon.


This is a vast, timeless land- and this is the other reason why I have enjoyed it so much- because it stands in complete contrast to the other parts of Africa I visited.

In East Africa and the Serengeti- that quintessential representation of Africa- everything is about the circle of life. Although it is an ancient place- birthplace of man and all that- everything is focused on the day to day business of survival. All the life is focused on the here and now of getting through another day- animals feeding, hunting, sheltering from the midday heat, villagers harvesting crops, rival males competing for the right to be pack leader.

In Namibia, things run on a geological timescale. The sort of timescale where a river can, through the irrestible force of time, carve the world#s second largest canyon. Where 900 year old trees stand frozen in rock, blackened and dead but their roots are so strong that they stand resolute, until one day they will be swallowed by the sand. Giant, 500m high sand dunes slowly migrate across the desert, as the wind picks them up and repositions them, one grain of sand at a time.

And there is almost noone around. It´s an eerie, humbling and magnificent sight.