Horse riding in Drakensberg

I recently fulfilled a long-time dream to ride a horse in the foothills of the Drakensberg.  It's some 40 years or so since I rode regularly and the body is not what it was then, but I didn't give it a second thought. I saw the horses, read the sign and seized the day.  Arriving at the appropriate time, I was alarmed to see the state of the horse, head drooping, hip bones sticking out. But again, I wasn't looking for a racehorse, just a gentle stroll through the grasslands.

The Zulu groom, with whom I communicated in body language, indicated that my grass hat was not right and I must wear the grimy plastic hat he gave me. Oh well, what's another sweaty head! They probably wouldn't let me go without it. A flash of perfect white teeth (not from the horse) indicated that I was right.With a little assistance, I heaved myself into the saddle. It was one of those moments when I wished that I actually did have a bigger bum. The saddle had no padding and appeared to be made of hardwood. Too late to turn back now. I slid my feet into the stirrups and grasped the reins casually in one hand, making a loop to spur the horse on.  And off we went, single file along the hillside.

The scenery was breathtaking, the air like champagne.  I was riding a horse in the Drakensberg.

It soon became apparent that my horse only responded to the pace and clicking of the groom in front. We lurched involuntarily into a brief and incredibly uncomfortable trot and I thanked my lucky stars for all those riding lessons way back.  We crossed the river twice, like they do in cowboy movies, and passed through a field of grazing bulls. At the end of the field, we came to a donga and although the groom's horse went down and up, mine had aspirations to be a showjumper and leapt over the gap. Did I grip with my knees!

The scenery was breathtaking, the air like champagne.  I was riding a horse in the Drakensberg.

We rode out of the valley and up into the hills, passing a small herd of eland on the way. From the crest of the hill we could see the way ahead.  It was a wide grass road, possibly 500 metres long and the groom turned around and gave a huge smile and nodded.  Body language for: Ok, that's enough dawdling, time to
stretch their legs. And we were off!  Shades of Clint Eastwood galloping across the plains. The adrenalin was pumping as I clung on desperately with my legs, yet exhilarated as we thundered up the roadway.

The scenery was breathtaking, the air like champagne. If I didn't get off this horse soon, I would just slide out of the saddle and fall to the ground.  They could fetch me later.

As we passed other guests on the way back to the stables, I wondered if we looked as if we were born in the saddle, or just plain saddle-sore.  I couldn't get off the horse.  I had to pull my leg over with both hands, and slid onto the grass where I just lay and laughed and laughed.  I couldn't sit for 3 days and had bruised and chafed legs, but it was still the best.

The scenery was breathtaking, the air like champagne, and I've ridden a horse in the Drakensberg.  

My Dad

It's Father's Day today. In our family we don't 'celebrate' Father's Day.  Every day is Father's Day. Everyone thinks that their Dad is the best and that is true - he is the best for you.
My Dad is the best for me.  He has always been there when I've needed him, helped when I've needed help, stayed silent when he felt criticism would not be constructive, advised when asked and never judged.  He has been an example to us all throughout his life, and we have yet to discover his faults.  His interest in everything life has to offer has been passed on to his 3 daughters and at a very young 83 he is still an active member of many clubs and societies and strives to learn something new every day.  He is currently grappling with the huge source of knowledge on the internet, and I hope that he will find this letter to him as he surfs today.
Thanks, Dad, for being you.

80's flashback

Most memories of my life are triggered by music, a scent in the air, or a certain way the light falls on the mountains (I know, that's a strange one!)
I'm having an 80's flashback, sitting here watching VH1 Top 40 80's.  Stevie Wonder brings back memories of sailing along the Atlantic coast between Hout Bay and Cape Town on a variety of yachts, fishing boats and pleasure cruisers. For everything there is a season, and it was our season for sailing!
The tang of the sea air as you leave the protection of the harbour wall and head out into the open sea invigorates like nothing else.  It must be the sudden access to large quantities of ozone, combined with the swishing of the waves as the bow cuts through the swells. My favourite place to be on a boat is in the bow (I did it before TItanic!), with my face to the wind and the rise and fall of the bow as it surges forwards.  In big seas the adrenalin sure can pump, but that is the point of standing there - to put yourself in a controlled life-threatening situation for the thrill of it.  It doesn't take long to get into the rhythm of anticipating the next wave and flexing your knees to cushion the jarring.  (That's probably why I have dicky knees today - not caused through any other form of exercise!)  After a few hours of this, it is really weird to walk on dry land again. You feel as if gravity has increased 5 times.
A fishing friend tells me that he never had to worry about fitness on long sea trips, as every muscle gets exercised just to keep standing in rough seas!
Time to go sailing again.  I need something to blow my hair back.

Kommetjie

Cotton-puff clouds scud across the sky, silver-lined by the sun, heralding the coming storm.  It will coincide with tomorrow night's total lunar eclipse. I don't know if we will see that now as heavy rain is forecast. The eclipse will bring unusually high spring tides due to the tugging of the gravitational forces of the sun and the moon. It seems that our storms coincide regularly with the full moon and the resultant huge seas create chaos along the Atlantic seaboard, breaking windows of houses close to the sea, washing vast clumps of kelp up the roads and into gardens.  Body boarders surf over the lawns of the Kom, normally 6 feet or more above the high water mark, and when the sea recedes, huge boulders are left on the lawns like glacial moraine.
I went down to the rocks this evening to see where the sea lice were.  They are the best indicators of how high the tide will come as they make sure that they are well beyond it, even crossing roads and climbing garden walls.  These fascinating creatures were still on the rocks, so the storm will probably only make landfall later tomorrow unless we are lucky and it blows itself out.
A small yacht was passing and it brought the words of John Masefield to mind:
"I must go down to the seas again
To the lonely sea and the sky
And all I ask is a tall ship
And a star to steer her by".

A bit of poetry that encompasses (sorry!) the yearning of many to escape the ratrace of life!

Kommetjie

I just have to tell you about the magnificent days we are having here in Kommetjie.  It is June in Cape Town and the weather couldn't be more perfect.  Blue skies, the lightest breeze, the sea like a mirror.  The loudest sound is the crashing of the waves at the Outer Kom.  Yesterday they were 15 - 20 foot on the reef and only the bravest surfers were out there.  As the sun goes down, a flock of Sacred Ibis pass overhead, a long V-formation stretching across the sky.  They are heading to their night-time roost in Hout Bay and tomorrow morning at first light the V will fly over my house again. leaving only the whisper of their beating wings to indicate their passing.  The robin is calling in the milkwood tree and a small flock of guineafowl have come to scratch on the front lawn.  The setting sun casts an apricot glow on the mountains of the Peninsula, the shadows changing from week to week as the sun moves northwards.  As the sun sinks into the sea, we look for that rare flash of green that can be sometimes be seen as a final salute to the day.
Soon our real winter will set in and we are expecting some mighty storms soon.  It will be time for the sea to wash up into the beachfront gardens and up the road next to my house, depositing benches in trees and kelp in the roads.  Those are also magnificent days in Kommetjie, when we look at the awesome power of nature and can't imagine that the sea will ever be calm again.  We are amongst the luckiest people on earth, we Kommetjie dwellers.

Hotel rooms - I considered sending this to the travel agent

  Have you noticed that when you book into a hotel, whether there seem to be other guests or not, your room is always the last one at the end of the passage?
  I check into my hotel just off Oxford Street, London, impressed by the facade and foyer.  After taking the lift to a mid-level floor, I follow the numbers down interminably long passageways until I reach what looked like the last broom cupboard on the right and find that it matches the number on my key.  I haven't passed a soul on the way.
  Stumbling through the door like Scott of the Antarctic, I prepare to behold my luxurious suite, which is costing me an arm and a leg, and find that Oh, no! it is the broom cupboard.  They've managed to squeeze in a double bed, two bedside cupboards, a writing desk, wardrobe, coffee table, 2 chairs, TV set, luggage rack and a fan.  A fan?  It's about 30 degrees in the room.  Throwing back about 3000 yards of green satin curtains, I observe that my airconditioner is the 3-inch gap in the sash window which is stuck.
  Further bad news - I have a magnificent view of the fire escape stairwell, giving me uninterrupted viewing into the rooms of similar unfortunates.  I can't tell if it's the building next door, or part of mine.  I close the curtains to give them privacy and turn on the fan.  Clambering back over the coffee table (there is no floor space), I lie down on the actually rather comfortable double bed and contemplate the ceiling.  It is very far away and reminds me of the Sistine Chapel, sans paintings.  The room is twice the height of the floor area, bringing new meaning to the word 'double-volume'. I could see now why it was so expensive.  They had booked me into the floor above as well.
  But wait!  A further treat is in store.  There is an en-suite bathroom to explore.  Toilet, bath with shower (Please ensure curtain is on inside of bath before turning on taps) and basin in an inviting shade of avocado green.  Enough soap and shampoo for a month, but no shelves.  The top of the toilet cistern is the only storage space.
  More excitement in the wardrobe!  A table with a tray of goodies and a kettle. Yes, inside the wardrobe.  I presume I will take this out if I want to hang any clothing inside.
The kettle can be boiled if you put in on the floor in the corner of the room, because that's where the plug is!
  And yet the hotel appeared to be almost empty.  Sound familiar?

MY FIRST BLOG

This blog has been established so that I can record events which have happened throughout my life which could be interesting,informative and occasionally amusing, particularly with regard to the people who have passed through my life, and deserve a mention for posterity.  Too many people hide their light under a bushel or believe themselves to be without any talent or boring.  This is because they have fallen prey to the conditioning of society which diminishes our ability to develop to our full and unlimited potential.  Life is for living, and it should be lived with passion and abandon, and only tempered by the proviso that what you do should cause no harm or distress to any other living being.

This blog will cover random days in my life and sometimes an event at which I was not present but am sure you will enjoy.  Names may be changed to protect the innocent but if they want their 15 minutes of fame, I'll give it to them!