Day 8
Sleeping flat on the cold hard ground, I nevertheless have a surprisingly good night's sleep, only interrupted now and then by a complaining hip bone insisting that I turn around and give it a break. When I turn, I peek out of my sleeping bag to see what the stars are doing, then curl up into its warmth again. Keith also snores away softly, until it is time for our pre-dawn cup of tea.
The night is freezing - as witnessed by the frost on my sleeping bag and on our motorbikes - and a cold wind is blowing from the mountains behind us. I'm having a really hard time getting up. I reach for my soaked oats, but it is so cold it almost hurts my teeth.
Camping in Calvinia in winter is not for softies.
No wonder my feet were cold... no interest in getting up
Keith however insists I show my glamorous self
Finally the thought of the hot shower entices me from my thick bedding, and I drag it into the dawning sun to dry out while I try to warm my chilled feet. The sun does its thing and by the time I'm (almost) clean and (fairly) decent, the bivvy is dry and I can pack it away. You'd think I'd be a master packer by now, but somehow it still feels like it takes a long time to pack. I'm still very happy with my packing though, and will definitely keep this setup in future.
Finally I'm ready and layered up, and we head out to Williston in the cold morning, travelling at our economical 95 kph, Keith in front. In Williston we stop at the same restaurant we stopped at last time, and we treat ourselves to a delicious omelette and a cappuccinos. The proprietress is excited to see us again, and asks me about our trip.
Sufficiently bolstered, we head off towards Fraserburg again. At the main road, we stop and say our good byes. Keith is heading down to Prins Albert, and I'm heading to the old age home to greet my mom, who returned from the hospital during the week I was travelling. Then I'm staying over at my BIL's farm again, before trailering my bike back to Cape Town on Sunday.
Adios, Amigo
Sleeping flat on the cold hard ground, I nevertheless have a surprisingly good night's sleep, only interrupted now and then by a complaining hip bone insisting that I turn around and give it a break. When I turn, I peek out of my sleeping bag to see what the stars are doing, then curl up into its warmth again. Keith also snores away softly, until it is time for our pre-dawn cup of tea.
The night is freezing - as witnessed by the frost on my sleeping bag and on our motorbikes - and a cold wind is blowing from the mountains behind us. I'm having a really hard time getting up. I reach for my soaked oats, but it is so cold it almost hurts my teeth.
Camping in Calvinia in winter is not for softies.
No wonder my feet were cold... no interest in getting up
Keith however insists I show my glamorous self
Finally the thought of the hot shower entices me from my thick bedding, and I drag it into the dawning sun to dry out while I try to warm my chilled feet. The sun does its thing and by the time I'm (almost) clean and (fairly) decent, the bivvy is dry and I can pack it away. You'd think I'd be a master packer by now, but somehow it still feels like it takes a long time to pack. I'm still very happy with my packing though, and will definitely keep this setup in future.
Finally I'm ready and layered up, and we head out to Williston in the cold morning, travelling at our economical 95 kph, Keith in front. In Williston we stop at the same restaurant we stopped at last time, and we treat ourselves to a delicious omelette and a cappuccinos. The proprietress is excited to see us again, and asks me about our trip.
Sufficiently bolstered, we head off towards Fraserburg again. At the main road, we stop and say our good byes. Keith is heading down to Prins Albert, and I'm heading to the old age home to greet my mom, who returned from the hospital during the week I was travelling. Then I'm staying over at my BIL's farm again, before trailering my bike back to Cape Town on Sunday.
Adios, Amigo