Beauty and space

Life seems so immediate and honest here.  Somehow removed from the mindless materialism of the urban party.  I recognise of course that the feeling has a lot to do with being on holiday, but for that, for me, this is the perfect place.  I am so in love with its arresting beauty, space and emptiness people-wise.

The sunset road, heading back from Buffelsbaai.

People braaing alsongside the George Rex flats.

Earlier, Ev and Aiden warming up for a winter swim - amazingly calm sea.

Warming up afterwards with a cup of something hot on the Buff's deck

That little reminder that paradise has an edge.  It's an interesting box, has two combination padlocks, you call a hotline number, give the code for the box (both writ large on the top), and are given the combination for the locks.  Clever solution to stop wankers stealing stuff that could be life-saving.  I was trying to imagine the panic of dialling and fumbling with the locks whilst your chommie bleeds out on the beach... would require some concentration that.

The Airports Company of South Africa, no can do and Bilenky S&S couplers.

It seems to me, from a distance (though emotionally wedded) that the most revolting institutional curse of the apartheid system still blighting the post-apartheid South Africa is the education system.  It is the intergenerational pox for which there is no cure.  And its symptoms appear manyfold.  Most recently I encountered the "let's focus on the problem, try and anchor it, and abandon any attempt at the solution".

The day of my particular frustration, I also heard an advert on the radio which touted a new word - and I'm not sure if I've got it totally right (Radio 5, likely you've heard it) "Afri-can-do" or something like that - perhaps (essentially the post-apartheid version of 'n boer maak 'n plan").  Now on this I want to call partial bullshit.  I can appreciate in very real ways that the industrious of South Africa will improvise anything to arrive at a workable solution - I am a huge admirer of that skill.  But the newly institutionalized of our country's workfoce, courtesy of the apartheid education system and our failure, for whatever reason, to remedy that in its latest iteration, appear to have very little in the way of Afri-can-do.  There seems rather an attitude of Afri-won't-do.

My personal discovery of this was at the hands of the absolute wankers who work for the Airports Company of South Africa.  In short, SAA have a published baggage size restriction for bicycles.  The ACSA don't give a damn about that, they take one look at a box (nary a tape-measure in sight) and proclaim it "too big".  The staff at SAA don't challenge this (with, eventually, two notable exceptions), opting rather to accept it (fuck the customer, even the customer who has looked up the baggage restrictions, can quote them, and has relied on them in good faith in booking a trip), and work hard to find reasons to support the ACSA (instead of demanding service from their foul sub-contractor).  Some of the reasons given were outstanding:  "Your box is too big.  Yes, I can see the regulations say 200cm, but your box is 178cm".  Very worrying comment.  And "The regulaitons say 200cm, but that is because the bicycle itself can be 200cm, but the box it is in must be smaller".  These sorts of statements, for me, are the echoing voice of the apartheid education system - horribly unreformed.  A certificate that represents nothing.  It's just a certificate.  Anyway, I ended up being rescued by a guy about my age called Andries Erwee, who looked at the regulations and said, "If you drill down to the detailed regulations page, you will find that you are right about the 200, so the 178 is fine, but the max height is 100.  How big is your box?"  "104" I replied.  "OK, here is a box cutter and tape, we are going to make your box 100 high and then I am contractually obliged to load it".  Sorted.  The actual Afri-can-do right there.  Anyway, on the way back, back in OR Tambo, trying to get my new box (178 x 98) loaded, I ran into the same problem.  I'd been here before: "Can you call Dries Erwee?"  "He is day off".  And that was that.  Without him, despite being there three hours in advance of the flight time, ACSA could not be defeated, and there was suddenly insufficient Afri-can-do.  Which left me in the unsatisfactory position of being able to transport my bike and ride in any country other than my own.  That depresses me.  So it's in storage at the airport (no doubt a facility run by ACSA, gotcha!) and I can enjoy the upside of letting my fingers on my left hand start working again (bruised nerve of some sorts, too many hours on the bike, after too many years on earth) - indeed I am typing this with ten fingers again.  Instead I bought some new running shoes and I'm loving lazing through the kilometers in cool climate and clean air.  Wooohooo.  It's also meant that I've spent quality time with Gr Rose - which would have been difficult if I'd been riding everywhere (though I could have put a pillion pillow on the pannier-rack ;-).

While the bigger issues are a dilemma to solve, for the country, the immediate problem of massive bicycles can be solved by retrofitting S&S Bicycle Torque Couplers.  Slightly tough to see in the pic below - but the silver bulges in the top-tube, and just in front of the drive cog on the down-tube.

These are retrofitted, nifty little things that will allow the smiling owner to break a bike down and pack it in a single hard suitcase of approximately the size of a 700C wheel. 

I think I will be going down that road for riding capacity in places that I visit (though of course they wouldn't work with anything other than circular routes; what elese could one do with the suitcase (it's definitely not coming along for the ride).

The farm overlooking Noetzie - fantastic beyond belief - we sat here and watched whales.

On Brenton beach walking towards Buffels with Rose - perfect winter day.

Visiting grandpa George; his final port of call is in the garden of the church in Belvedere.

With Rose and Auntie Jen at the Sedgefield market.  Definite Bobbsey twins.

The journey back

I had a very cool flight back to SA from Washington.  It's an 18 hour flight - how is that possible? - it lands for a refuel (and + some, - other passengers) in Dakar (of Paris Dakar fame) in Senegal. It's an interesting place in geographic terms: the westmost point of all of Africa, and on the very edge of the great desert.  In the pic on the right you can see the haphazard gaggle of villages, tracks and dirt roads, and sweat the feel of the Sahara breathing down their collective necks.

What made the flight cool was the extraordinary quality of service of an old-time steward, whose name I regret not remembering.  It looked like he'd been working flights for a good couple of decades, but instead of finding that jading, had refined and polished his approach into one of vast warmth and expertise. I have the utmost respect for that approach to work, in particular work that the well heeled of our society might find demeaning despite being its primary beneficiaries.  It's the thankless stuff that great companies are built on, and in the absence of which many fail.  It also stood in stark contrast to the oceans of frustration that I was to experience later on at the hands of the good staff of the Airports Company of South Africa.  More about that later.

The illustrious Aeroport International Blaise Diagne.  All of it.  Not much going on in the breaking dawn.

Americana - thereafter

No explanation needed - super cool Mustang, showroom condition.  Auto-art, and Americana

This is the CFA building in Charlottesville, which was previously the Martha Jefferson hospital.

A colleague of mine was telling me that one of their colleagues was born in the exact same place in which she now works.  The standing joke is that she's gone nowhere in life; made me giggle that.

Much to smile about - in Charlottesville I found my next bike (whenever that is), the Surly Midnight Special.  It's the first time I've physically seen one (in this instance not actually for sale, owned by one of the people who work at the shop) - and it is divine.  It represents the evolutionary outcome of my cycling philosophy.

Shebeen. In the bar and restaurant in Charlottesville called "The Shebeen" watching the World Cup final.  It's one of those great moments of belonging to the human race, as literally everyone on the planet who can, watches the same thing.

With my divine friend Tom Sours, in his vast garden with his absolutely beautiful family; Victoria, Jackson and Henry.

Americana day - 3

My failing on this day was to go very light on photos, and pound away the video (which I can't really see as functional on your blog).  Video is the machine gun of light capture; you dont think too much about what you capture, you just suck it all in.  As a consequence, I have a video (very poor quality) of a black bear - but no photos :-(

Sunrise from Big Meadows Lodge - seriously beautiful morning - looking down into the valley.

Packed and ready to go - legs recovered pretty well it seemed, sore but working.

Taking a coffee break in the town of Dyke.  There were rocking chairs to sit in out front, very nice coffee experience.

Final destination, The Residence Inn in Millmont Street, Charlottesville.

Americana - day 2

 

Early morning, at the entrance to Shenandoah National Park.  There are lots of ways to describe this - the gateway to pre-lapsarian paradise (descriptively accurate) or the jaws of the green hell (by the end of the day, emotionally accurate).  It was very very beautiful, and very very hard.  10 degrees for 10 hours.

This one for Grandpa George - 10,000 miles away, another Hogsback.  The altitude is in feet not meters, but dont be fooled (as indeed I was when setting out) all in all this day I climbed 9,000 feet, with a 50kg bike, and the physics of that is inescapable.  For camparison, the peak of Champaigne Castle in the Drakensburg is 11,000 feet.  It was an especially NASTY day in the saddle.

This accurately sums up the day, emptying waterbottles and streaks of sunblock mixed with sweat.

Lunch, close to the highest point of the day, having come from the light coloured valley in the distance.

The Big Meadows Lodge, Room 9.  Never been so pleased to see a bed - fan too for drying washed clothes.  Big Meadows also turned out to be the end of the road for my favourite green flame go-faster cycling clothes - just too old and nasty to bother trying to preserve any longer.  

Americana - day 1

Setting out on the Washington Old Dominion Railroad trail - scenerey is gobsmacking - ferocious beauty.  Here on a bridge crossing a river, name unknown.

       

Didn't see a Joshua or Evan, but did find an Adie - I think this town is called Leesburg

In Purcelville in a diner for a late breakfast - fantastic - exactly what my whole soul was craving.

Meeting and talking to serious cycling people - a divine part of the journey - this is a carbon fibre Quest recumbent trailing wheel tricycle, built by a Dutch company called Velomobile.  This is serious hardware - much more efficient than a bicycle.  Yours for 6600 Euros.

Among my dearest friends at school were Jon Stewart and Graeme Wilson, and some of the things we had in common and lived around were bicycles and Americana, particularly music.  The cult status E-W road, Route 66 featured in many places, so it was cool to see it in the flesh, crossing over it on the A50, with a bicycle.

The area is rich with civil war history - and it's pretty dramatic stuff.  On these fields in front, also in July, but of 1863, 6000 cavalry supported by artillary clashed.  Like so much of the rest of it, it must have been carnage.

Rolling along the Shenandoah river, communities of people living with and around the river.  This photo out back of a river-side diner, ubiquitous bakkie, "tradie" box, flag.

The other side of the diner - insanely fantastic green, grass, trees, water.

The end of the day's ride, the Twi-Lite Motel in the town of Front Royal - itself a fantastic piece of Americana in every sense - visually, functionally, and as it happens run by an Indian family from Gujarat.  Perfect.

The BIG O.K.

 At various points this whole ride in America thing has seemed one of my less good ideas.  But here we are, two days to go and the blue beast is ready to fly.

Evan, when asked to take a pic of me and the box on my phone, couldn't help a little selfie first :-)
Aiden indifferent in the background - head candy, teenager.

Here's the minimal dismantling - the plan is a ten minute rebuild in the airport.

Snugly it fits.  I've had some shabby moments with lazy measuring in my life,
but this one was spot on.

Ready to roll (in cut off jammies) - 21.6kg, and under the 200cm limit.  I need to add that in my hyperperforming public holiday mode, I also stripped and cleaned a dehumidifier - just saying.

The 2018 Summer - so far cruel and clear

It has been a summer with a capital S so far - record heat in May, a regular wet June, and now the booming skies of Philippines air coming into Hong Kong from the south.  I went for a long ride yesterday morning - 72km - came back feeling wasted.  It was 31 degrees with 90 percent humidity at 4.50am.  I think Washington is going to be the same - so good practice.

Looking North-East out over Sheung Sze Wan bay.

Looking back over the bay towards Lobster Bay village and a super-low tide.  

Clearwater Bay Beach 1 on Saturday morning.  Aiden and I went for a swim, and it was fantastic; the water was gin-clear (you can see the reef in the bottom right of the photo), schools of fish, and 29 degrees.  I loved the dude fishing just inside the shark-nets; old-timer in his paddy-field hat.  By the time we'd walked home we both looked like we'd been swimming in our clothes - especially thanks to a dad's short cut (not) which turned out to be a coastal rock scramble and then a massive climb up a hill.  

Aiden and Evan - finished year 9 and 7 - Summer Holidays are here

Yep, another year of education has passed and school is out.  Summer in HK equals a winter trip to SA.  Ev is all steel smiled; everyone is raring to go.  I had to take new pics for next year's bus ID cards for them - so here they are.