We wake up, down a coffee, go and cycle the red route in Harkerville forest.
Back at the lodge, I jump in the plunge pool, jump in the shower and off we go to breakfast. After breakfast, work for an hour or two and we are off to Robberg Nature Reserve. At the gate, Mike has the lovely security lady in stiches with his terrible isiXhosa – which he offers unashamedly with such flair that I even I was nearly convinced. She compliments him on his perfect isiXhosa and is still laughing as we drive through the gate.
We have hiked the medium route before, so the long route it is. I start to consider that we had just mountain biked for a couple of hours and might be best to do the medium route again, but mentioning that to Mike will be a waste of time. When it comes to hiking, Mike is like a mule, he can go forever and has paid the price many times.
I was armed with a beautiful cream and white striped, fluffy beach towel, which I planned to use once we pass the beach on our enchanting hike. After 30 minutes in the scorching sun, I decide to roll the towel up at the top (like a crown) and wear the towel as a flowing turban. Mike raised an eyebrow and I declared that I am a wise man.
We got to a sign that read that, if it was after 14:00, it would be best to turn around and do the medium route. The wise man and the mule disregarded the sign and the time and soldiered on. At the point of the peninsula, the mule declared that this was the half way point. As the wise man, I doubted this very much, as the mule had never been on the hike before. I shrugged, gave a dramatic flip to my turban and started to scarper over the large boulders. My enthusiasm started to wane, but when I saw that we were expected to start rock climbing, I literarily through in the towel. For those who don’t know me, I absolutely despise heights. The mule carried the towel and I swore and complained, which later turned into whimpering. Whenever Mike said in his soothing voice: “Don’t look down darling”. I just started to whimper louder. By the time we reached the amazing beach, I was no longer talking to Sanparks nor Mike. The beach was littered with blue bottles – so I had something else to be angry about. No use for the turban today.
On the way out of Plett, Mike stopped at the Spar, bought two cans of diet coke and a packet of jelly babies for me. I am now convinced that he thinks I am five.
Passing Keurbooms beach, I declared that I was no longer sulking, asked him to stop and went to catch some waves. Feeling refreshed and no longer shaking from fear and shock, I felt starving.
I don’t think the staff at Enrico’s have ever seen two people devour a pizza like we did.
Sore, sun burnt, wind swept and tired we had a deep, un-water-restriction bath and then crawled into bed and watched TV. At one stage, Mike declared that it was the best design programme he had ever seen. I think I destroyed the magic by reminding him, that this was the first TV we have watched in three years and that his standards were not very high.
Lesson learnt today: Stay wise and don’t trust the mule’s judgement.