Fire issue

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We drove down to the cottage yesterday afternoon, for a few days R&R.

Before we set off, I did note that there was a bit of a fire just south of Bredasdorp, but we weren’t quite aware of what was coming.

Even from Caledon, we could see the fire burning about 60km away.

And the scenes in Bredasdorp were even more dramatic – but I can’t show you yet (see below) – before we drive within a few hundred metres of the blaze:

The problem is this. The internet cables through to (6000 miles from) civilisation run along this road, and they’ve been damaged.

So we’re running very low on bandwidth, and that’s why I’m writing this post last night (if you’re reading it today), just in case the damage gets worse.

Incidentally, the fire has now closed the road back to Cape Town as well, so I’m guessing that the power lines to us – which run along the side of that road – are in danger too.

Never a dull moment.

But maybe some dark ones.

If anything, the pain is getting worse

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A surprise double header for our 5-a-side team on Tuesday night. We literally found out about the second game just as we were heading onto the pitch for the first game. And while we love playing football, a double header is never great when you are a) old and… well… that’s about it, really.

We are the oldest team in the league by some distance. Some of the guys we play against weren’t even born when our team was founded, and I’d wager that I was older than each of the opposition’s dads in our second game.

But we played well. The first game was a really tight affair. It finished 7-8, and we were incredibly unlucky not to get something out of it.

Something other than getting completely knackered, that is.

I had a family thing I needed to get to. The Chilean had a restaurant to go and manage. At least several of our players would like to have gone and drunk some beer.

But no.

It was straight onto the other court and straight back into battle.

Dead on our feet, we somehow, bewilderingly managed to get to 3-0 up at half time. But then, playing into the blinding sun and the (actually rather pleasant) breeze, their comeback came back. Before too long, it was 3-3 and the momentum was only heading one way.

Courage, belief, attitude and an unwillingness to concede again kicked in. It was all automatic: there was absolutely nothing left in our respective tanks. But we threw ourselves in front of every shot, dragged every last ounce of energy to block a run; we left everything out there.

And we got a goal just before the end.

4-3, and our first win since September (it’s complicated, ok?). And it could not be sweeter. We struggled off the pitch to a cold beer. We staggered off to our respective destinations. And then yesterday morning, we reminisced on just how good it felt to win, and just how completely broken we all were when we woke up.

Imagine my dismay then, when I awoke this morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and then tried to get out of bed. Oh my deity.

If anything, the pain is getting worse.

I’m suddenly dreading tomorrow.

Quota Ostrich

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I have a feeling that the afternoon and evening are going to run away from me (not literally – that would be weird), and so I thought I’d pop up a quick Quota Photo.

This one was taken in the car park of one of the places I stayed up in Limpopo when I was taking photos there last March.

Ostrich in a car park?
I know, I know, its serious.

Sorry.

The acacia tree made for a nice frame for this male ostrich’s head. His comedic goon expression does the rest quite nicely.

When I was younger, growing up in Sheffield, we generally didn’t have ostriches wandering around the car parks. Perhaps a pigeon, sometimes a squirrel, but nothing really this big or daft looking.

Not to say this is the usual thing here in SA either. Although your chances of spotting a wild baboon or ostrich in a parking area are probably here than in Broomhill.

But despite the rather larger wildlife, you’re still perfectly safe.

As long as it chooses not to kick you to death with its terrifying dinosaur feet, of course.

CPD

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Continuing Professional Development?

No: Chapman’s Peak Drive.

We had a bit of a walk on the beach on one side of the peninsula today, before scooting through Sun Valley (which was both sunny and a valley) to the other side for a spot of lunch. We could have come back over the mountain, but because Ke Dezemba (I know, but the spirit remains for the moment), we went around it instead.

Chapman’s Peak Drive has won all sorts of awards for being a beautiful, scenic road, and while I 100% understand where these awards committees are coming from, it really needs to be noted that the beauty of Chapman’s Peak Drive is from Chapman’s Peak Drive, and actually not Chapman’s Peak Drive.

Now just over 100 years old, Chapman’s Peak Drive remains an incredible bit of engineering. Stuck into the granite cliff of… well… Chapman’s Peak, there are 114 bends in 9.6km of road, which begins at 38m AMSL and peaks (lol) at 161m.

It’s an incredible bit of road to drive on, and the views are equally amazing:

This one is a 24MP pano that I knocked up earlier today with almost 2 minutes of effort. Almost.

But that’s the view from the road. If you look at the actual road, it’s a real scar across the Cape landscape. You can see it – or rather not miss it – it on the right hand side of my image above, or if you prefer a borrowed aerial shot from a bit further south:

It has wrecked the mountain a bit. Chapman is presumably turning in his grave.

Of course, none of this was a problem back in the 1910s and 20s, but I’d wager that you’d never get away with building this sort of thing today.

And equally of course, you can’t say that it’s ugly to look at.

That would be against The Rules.

Chapman’s Peak Drive is sacrosanct, flawless and infallible. Just like Stephen Fry. (Although.)

But “Stunning to look from, unpleasant to look at” isn’t a category in any tourism awards, so we have to keep saying that it’s beautiful.

Which the view from it, is.