South Africa – Never Ending Gap Year

I’m writing this highlights of 2018 on the verandah of Riverbend books in Balmoral, Brisbane, with a flaming red poinciana tree shading me from today’s 30 degree celsius scorcher. Summer is blasting Queensland with a vengeance. Thousands of hectares of forest burn as I sit here sipping green tea and hundreds of families face a homeless year-end holiday courtesy of climate change. Meanwhile the Australian Federal Parliament is imploding…..

Leaving the folly of national politics aside, 2018 for us has been an epic year, most memorable as the year our sons became fathers to two bonny, baby girls, one in Melbourne, Australia in March, the other in Edinburgh, Scotland in April. We’ve watched on as Cameron and Tristan fell in love with their daughters and created warm, loving families with their beautiful, strong partners.

The year kicked off with my hairiest personal challenge yet, a month-long sailing adventure (sans Stuart), pushed by Tradewinds from Cape Town, South Africa, via St Helena to Cabedelo, Brazil.

Skyelark delivered her crew of six (pictured above enjoying our first beer in Brazil) another exciting passage filled with personal challenges, beautiful sunrises, sunsets, countless flying fish, dolphins and hilarious afternoon radio quizzes with the rest of the World ARC fleet. Swimming in the seemingly bottomless azure Atlantic Ocean a thousand sea miles from land while hove to was a unique and unforgettable experience for me.

With my favourite watch buddy, Tim (above) and Skyelark at anchor at St Helena.

A bonus was the too short time I had in Cape Town before the voyage to climb Table Mountain and tour the Cape.

Life at 63 really doesn’t get better than this, hands free Tradewinds sailing!

Once on land I was blown away by wildlife experiences in the water world of the Pantanal with real life Brazilian cowboy, Paulo.

And perplexed by Rio’s completely crazy Carnaval.

Rio’s beach culture is a little different from Australia’s but cruising the bay on an SUP made me feel right at home.

Back in Spain I sampled an alternative Carnival, in Cadiz!

And revelled in some of the world’s best flamenco amongst dear friends in Jerez.

maestro Angel Muñoz

Siblings Pilar Ogalla and Juan Ogalla after his knockout show.

Sandra Carrasco and Company

Triumphant husband and wife Pilar Ogalla and Andres Peña take a rapturous curtain call.

Completely different from Skyelark, but almost as special, was our week on the grand old dame, Irene of Bridgewater, out of Oban to Scotland’s Western Isles. As well as sailing we sea kayaked, hiked to breathtaking viewpoints, celebrated Stuart’s 67th birthday, and I swam an obligatory lap of Irene in very chilly waters.

A return to Paris for Roland Garros, this time with great friends Jean Louis and Liz, followed by a seaside sojourn in Ile de Re, showed off France at its very best.

My tennis hero, Rafael Nadal.

Slightly tipsy post prandial cycle home.

Portugal treated us well too with many kilometres of walking in Sintra and along the northwest coast.

Since our Elliott family reunion in the Dordogne in June (photos below) to mark Stuart’s brother James’ 70th birthday, we’ve been working to make our newly built home on Gypsy Hill in Broken Head, New South Wales, a comfortable place for friends and family to visit.

I take my hat off to Stuart who shepherded the project through to completion despite daily trials. Reviews thus far have been positive. The first inaugural flamenco weekend nearly got blown away in a tempest, but we pushed on with an intimate indoor evening of song, dance, poetry and castenet performances. Very special. Book club friends also pronounced the cabin and house very comfortable and we plan for mire of the same in 2019.

My second Byron Writers’ Festival was enlivened by outstanding authors, principally Michelle de Kretser, who went on to win her second Miles Franklin literary award for favourite book of the year ‘The Life To Come’. I urge you to read her work. Next year’s festival is 2-4 August. Don’t miss it.

We’re also glad to have made it to Tenterfield in September for the very first Peter Allen Festival, made even more special by being hosted by friends Suzanne and Tim.

A swift trip to the UK in November for our niece, Sally’s 40th birthday weekend celebration in the seaside town of Swanage, capped off the year’s travel perfectly. The Elliotts were on fine form with many tiny people being passed from arms to arms or chased around the house.

We’ll spend year-end on The Hill with Cam and family working on our croquet and boules skills and keeping a baby Melburnian cool.

2019 trip planning is well in hand with a six-week combo of Kerala, India, and skiing in the Italian Dolomites starting early February. My clinical drug trial, testing a brand new Rheumatoid Arthritis immunotherapy, will have finished by then. Regardless of the outcome we’re all systems go for another thrilling year. Hope you can stick around for the ride!

Two full days touring in Cape Town was an ideal start to my Trans-Atlantic crossing from Cape Town to Brazil, on the 51-foot yacht, Skyelark of London.

I stayed at Victoria House in Kenilworth, a well to do suburb just south of Cape Town centre. Owner-Manager Corinne swapped her law practice in France for a chateau-style turreted mansion with extensive gardens and pool. Her equally French husband, Jean-Francois, has a hair salon in the city. My ensuite guest bedroom (one of five) was huge. The period enamel claw foot tub was tempting but Cape Town is in the grip of a dire drought, they’re predicted to run out of reservoir water some time in March this year.

I wish I’d had more time to chill in Kenilworth, I felt safe walking to the local restaurants at night and Corinne’s vegan breakfasts were epic. But I was on a mission.

Aldo, co-owner of Green Cape Tours was both driver and guide for my long-planned expeditions. Another of Skyelark’s crew for the crossing, Tim, a fit, easygoing chap from the UK, joined me.

On the first day Aldo drove us almost completely around the Cape and into the Nature Reserve. Aldo is of Italian heritage with deep roots in South Africa. First stop was Simon’s Town, 35k south of Cape Town on the eastern sweep of the Cape, with its palm trees, historic harbour and attractive period architecture. A group of kids were in the midst of a stand up paddle board lesson on the beach.

Then it was on to Cape Point via a windswept, white sand beach on the west where wild emus pecked through grasses.

Queues to enter the park can back up kilometres so Aldo was keen to get us there as early as possible. An orderly line had already formed to have photos taken behind the sign reading ‘Cape of Good Hope, the most south westerly point of the African Continent’.

We obediently waited our turn.

A fifteen minute climb up to the point brought us to Cape Lighthouse with panoramic coastal views. This is the spot so many sailors have strained their eyes to see. I imagined myself out there in the wild blue yonder under sail on the majestic Atlantic Ocean just two days hence. Felt surreal.

Leaving the Reserve we dropped down to Boulder Beach on the southern edge of Simon’s Town to see its healthy colony of African Penguins. I could have watched these little creatures all day. They have such big personalities for such tiny birds and no fear of humans. They are still on the endangered species list, but since trawler fishing was dramatically reduced in False Bay the penguins numbers have bounced back.

A quick lunch stop in Kalk Bay and it was on to Muizenberg, the surfing mecca, and thence to Hout Bay for gelati for the boys.

The M6 road on the western side of the Cape reminded me of the Amalfi Coast. A spectacular, narrow road with passing bays in places, built into the side of sheer cliff face, it is constantly crumbling. Signs at both ends warn that you are driving it at your own risk. I’m glad to have done it once but won’t be in a hurry to repeat it.

Llandudno looks like a pretty beachside enclave, much less built up than Camps Bay or Clifton where large, expensive, concrete houses with huge view windows sit in serried rows facing west. This is where the moneyed come to relax and play.

On the second day Aldo, Tim and I tackled a hike to the top of Table Mountain starting in Kirstenbosch (botanical gardens). The Gardens alone are well worth visiting (65 rand entry) but we couldn’t tarry, the longer we took to reach the top the hotter it would be.

The trail Aldo chose for us begins as Skeleton’s Gorge (Aldo didn’t know why it was called that but I can guess). The first hour and a half is under canopy, continuously climbing. The path is well maintained except for a section above a tiny waterfall where a large tree has come down and walkers are forced to clamber up rocks. A dousing in the waterfall cooled me off nicely!

Seven step ladders help hikers navigate another section above the waterfall.

The final hour and a half up along Smuts Track to the moonscape of the highest point, Maclear’s Beacon at 1808 metres, is mostly in full sun with masses of colourful wildflowers and panoramic views.

From here it’s an easy stroll along the top via some cliff edges to the upper cable car station and an extensive cafe-restaurant terrace. Time taken 4 hours, but that route can be done in three. We celebrated by rehydrating with fresh orange juice and water.

Tim in green shirt and Aldo in blue.

We’d hiked Table Mountain on January 4, one of the busiest days of the year. After the quiet and beauty of the trail, passing just a few people, the beer drinking, ice cream eating madding crowds around the cable car station were a shock to the senses.

By the time we joined the queue waiting to take the cable car down it was winding back down the path we’d just come. Despite the hour wait to catch the cable car the expedition was well worth it. Tim reminded me it is one of the world’s Seven Natural Wonders and justifiably so.

Cable car tickets are sold online and crowd control is pretty good considering we were tourists from all over the world. I don’t recommend walking both ways, your knees and quads will be very unhappy next day.

Aldo kindly drove Tim and me to collect our bags from our separate accommodation and deposited us at the V & A Marina where Skyelark, our home for the next month, was berthed.

Here she is with co-skipper Em on deck and next door Sandvita’s crew member mending their sail.

The V & A is a popular upmarket accommodation, food, shopping and entertainment complex on the waterfront. Every few metres I came across different buskers; a gospel choir, a male step group, musicians and inevitably a statue man. This one was in the middle of an embrace with a friend. His silver paint rubbed off on her face. They were both oblivious.

I had a final chilled beer in the food court with a super spicy Thai green curry. It would be my last alcohol until St Helena. Not a boat rule, one drink a day is the quota set by Dan, the skipper. I just figure this is a good opportunity to eat well and avoid alcohol. I will need all my wits about me!

When I strolled back to the boat a seal had taken possession of a finger pontoon next to ours. He’s fat and relaxed and looks right at home, like he’s channelling zen vibes. A good totem for me at exactly that moment.