The N1 from Jo’burg to Cape Town is monotonous. Boring, in fact. We like to travel on the alternate routes, stopping at farm stalls and interesting small towns and villages. This time was different in many respects, and while I sat drifting in and out of a vegetative state many thoughts flitted through my mind.
It had been a long and tiring year. My project in Botswana had me away from home for long spells, rising at 03:20 am on a Monday morning to fly out on the 6:30 flight to Gaborone, and if there were no delays, returning home again at about 7:30 pm on Friday evenings. Fortunately, there were times in between where I was able to work from the office in Bryanston.
Due to our schedules we did not have the luxury of the usual run-up to a holiday: planning (not that we ever do much of that!), cleaning and preparing Ufudu, buying supplies, packing, dreaming over a glass of wine, etc. etc. Whatever needed doing was done by Roger in my absence. He drove to Silver Creek Gorge on Thursday after work, returning home with Ufudu on Friday morning, while I worked until Friday evening. We packed on Saturday morning and left our complex at about 3 pm on Saturday afternoon, 29th November.
First on our list for the next few days: deliver Jonathan’s Hobie. It was sourced from Durban and delivered to the Vaal Dam where Roger collected it a few days prior to our departure. Next, we had arranged to have some work done to Ufudu at the AC Motorhomes factory in Brackenfell. While that was being done we would visit friends and family in and around Cape Town using Debbie’s car (kindly on loan to us). Once we had Ufudu back we would head up the coast to Herolds Bay for Joe’s farewell (more about Joe later).
It wasn’t long before Roger began to have droopy eyelids. We were hoping to overnight in Bloemfontein and were close to Kroonstad when he asked me to take over drive duty while he takes a nap. I had no sooner taken over when the wind started picking up. It had been blowing all day but now suddenly reached speeds of about 35 knots (Roger’s lingo and estimate, not mine).
Roger was resting at the back when I noticed a very dark, brown ‘wall’ of dust approaching. I called to get his attention over the noise of the truck and the wind. He says he could not hear what I was saying but my tone prompted him to react immediately and in no time he was next to me, ready for action. The next moment we were in the midst of an unbelievably strong wind/dust storm, with debris swirling around and me holding on to the steering wheel with all my might. Then there was a lull and the next minute I had to exercise control in the opposite direction. At first I thought we had a flat tyre but in fact we had driven through a tornado and were now exiting the opposite side.
Then there was rain, with squalls that once again had me clinging to the steering wheel. Next thing we noticed a commotion ahead and passed an 18-wheeler that had been blown over by the wind; he was carrying a load of mattresses and clearly did not have enough weight to remain grounded. Scary.
As soon as the storm passed and it was safe to pull over Roger took over again and I could recover from the adrenaline… What an experience!
We reached Bloemfontein at about 8 pm and after supper and a bottle of wine at John Dory’s we found a camping spot at Reyneke’s Camp Ground. What a lovely surprise: each campsite had its own ablution!
We had a much needed good night’s sleep despite the traffic noise and the occasional passing train.