Warmwaterberg hot springs
14.–15. mar. 2025, Sydafrika
🌙 19 °C
Best nights sleep for a year! Parked car on a thorny camping ground under some reasonably shady Acacia trees. Hot baths are two minutes walk away. Multitudes of birds make use of the trees around us.
The 1st African-derived rock formations
15. marts 2025, Sydafrika
☁️ 28 °C
The Geological Formation of Calitzdorp and Its Environs: A Fascinating Tale from the Cretaceous Period
More fossilized dragon than rock, we passed within harpooning distance of one of my favourite geological formations. Gnarled, sinewy, pock-marked from erosion and studded with shards of quartzite pebbles. These are the hills of Calitzdorp which have seen far more interesting circumstances than any Hobbit tale! This formation occurred during the Cretaceous Period, a time when the Earth was dramatically reshaped by the forces of nature.
The Cretaceous Period: A Time of Dramatic Transformation
Around 145 million years ago, during the early Cretaceous Period, the ancient supercontinent Gondwana began to break apart. This geological event led to the separation of the landmasses that would eventually form Africa, South America, Australia, India, and Antarctica. Africa, for the first time: stood alone.
The climate during this time was warm and humid, characterized by lush vegetation and the dominance of large dinosaurs. As the Earth's crust stretched and split apart, it underwent significant changes. Violent earthquakes, torrential rains, and rock fracturing were commonplace as the planet's surface was torn apart, giving birth to new landforms. These tectonic forces were responsible for the formation of elongated basins, such as the Oudtshoorn Basin in the Eastern Klein Karoo. This basin, which extends as far west as Calitzdorp, was shaped by the deep fracture of the Earth's crust that ran from east to west along the base of the Swartberg Mountains.
The Role of Faults and River Systems
Central to the formation of the Oudtshoorn Basin was the Kango Fault, a major geological feature running along the northern margin of the basin. This fault not only caused the floor of the basin to subside but also influenced the region's river systems. Uplifted highlands, such as the Gamkasberg and Rooiberg, acted as sources for rejuvenated rivers that flowed into the basin. These rivers carried vast amounts of debris, including scree and rock fragments from the Table Mountain Sandstone and Quartzite that surrounded the Little Karoo. As these rocks tumbled from the mountains above they got rounded on their journey and reduced in size to rocks and pebbles.
As these rivers deposited their load, they gave rise to the Buffelskloof Formation—once known as the Enon Conglomerates—a crucial geological feature that marks the first truly African sediments. These sediments, laid down during the formation of the African continent, consist primarily of rounded cobbles and pebbles embedded in silica-rich gravels. Additionally, the angular rock fragments found on the surrounding slopes are known as Breccias, providing further evidence of the powerful geological forces at play.
The Formation of the Red Stone Hills
One of the most striking features of these mountains are its vivid red sediments. The red hue of the landscape is a result of hematite, an iron-rich mineral that oxidized in the warm, humid conditions of the Cretaceous. The oxidation process turned the sediments into the reddish color that is visible today. These red gravel sediments originally formed the northern margin of the Oudtshoorn Basin. Over the course of 100 million years of erosion, these sediments have been worn down, leaving behind isolated koppies (small hills) that stretch in a band from De Rust to Calitzdorp.
Weathering and erosion played a critical role in shaping the Red Stone Hills into the sleeping dragons of today. The outer crust of these sediments, which initially eroded quickly, became more resistant over time. This led to the formation of natural features such as caves, overhangs, and, most notably, the stunning Hole-in-the-Wall.
Fossils and the Challenges of Dating
Despite the absence of fossils in the Red Stone Hills themselves sure to the high energy of the system and oxygen-rich environment that is not conducive to fossil-formation, there are some notable examples of relict species that have survived since the time of the Cretaceous. These species, which have remained virtually unchanged for over 100 million years, serve as living links to the distant past. The cycad species, Encephalartos horridus, is still found in secluded valleys within the region, while an ancient fish species continues to inhabit the perennial streams near the Swartberg foothills close to Calitzdorp. These living fossils provide a glimpse into a world that existed long before the region's human inhabitants.
A Window into Earth’s Ancient Past
The geology of Calitzdorp and its surrounding regions offers a fascinating glimpse into the Earth's distant past. Nowadays, all these years later, these remnant humpbacks are home to an array of renosterveld, fynbos elements, and bulbs some of which have uniquely developed and survived on these mountains for millions of years. But what blows my mind is that the same principles of erosion and subsequent deposition of rocks are still happening today. Thus these mountains are currently being eroded and deposited for at least a third traceable cycle, and some of these rocks will be reburied for a fourth time to be re-exposed several hundred million years from now.
1) sediment washes to form some proto-mountain.
2) these are washed down and deposited as layers of Table Mountain sandstone.
3) this TMS washes down and forms the Buffelskloof conglomerate and breccia.
4) these pebbles will wash downriver to our present-day coast as sand to be consolidated one day into new rock.
I wish to thank Geoff Wyatt-Goodall for consolidating the information that formed the basis for my research into this formation. https://www.swartbergcircleroute.co.za/project/…Læs mere
Mozzie attack
15.–16. mar. 2025, Sydafrika
🌧 15 °C
After a day off traveling through the Klein Karoo and stopping off for an interview with Karoo botanist, Jan Vlok, we found ourselves
pushing through the evening to make headway before the conference on Monday near the Drakensberg. Camping near Aberdeen on a dirt road, the mozzies were out with a vengeance. Not only that but I stood on an Acacia thorn. We had the electric racquet which we call "the gun" with us, and while brushing our teeth I set about thrashing sightlessly in the dark, intermittent snaps heralding a multitude of successes!
Over the years I've found the humble zap-racquet an indispensable tool in my fight against mosquitos. I used to wait till the mozzie alighted on my face before slapping myself. Perhaps a 10 or 20% success rate, depending on how patient I am. Now, when I hear one I swish in the general direction of the sound and seem to have a higher success rate at connecting, sometimes with more than one.
Combined with the judicious use of a towel against the ceiling or walls, disturbing "chill -out zones", by smashing them or swishing with the towel, I can have a mostly mosquito free night. However by far my best acquisition had been the mosquito tent.
What is your technique for dealing with these most ungodly of nectar sucking fuckers?!Læs mere
They said we wouldn't use the winch!
17.–18. mar. 2025, Sydafrika
🌧 15 °C
Retreating to the rim of the conference venue, we setup the rooftop tent. Shereen expressed concerns that if people arrived at the chalet, that we were in their parking spot. I retorted that they could park elsewhere and that I thought it was unlikely that people were still coming, and if they were, they were likely from the conference and thus amenable to discussion. Let's just say: I was wrong.
Two hours later we were disturbed by a van dropping someone off. Then at around 11pm, a bakkie arrived. Shereen said, "Now you're going to have to talk to them, and then we're going to have to move the car". It was pouring at the time and I hoped that was not the case. Well, I was wrong.
Next moment the wheels spun. Then the car backed down the slope, then the wheels spun again... a lot! Eventually I pulled on my pants and stepped out to assist. It turns out that they thought they were in the wrong place because of our car, and were tired from a long journey from a festival, and were now thoroughly stuck.
I examined the situation and said that if he backed down and across the slope I thought he might be able to extricate himself. He did manage to get some purchase, but then embedded himself thoroughly in a dip in the wet grass. I figured there were only two possibilities left: the row rope, and THE WINCH!
Shereen pointed out a third possibility, the use of the Maxxtrax tyre plates. We hurriedly poopoed that suggestion and I set about emptying the back to access the mechanical box that then needed taking down, but it's a f-off heavy box, but I didn't want to disturb Shereen further and so I took it down myself, straining my back slightly.
In moving the car to a better position, a stream of water unleashed from the roof like an icy torrent from heaven in a spoof movie. This single celestial stream stroking me precisely on my done. I couldn't believe my dumb luck, and I just sat there, resigned and in disbelief as the torrent continued to flow onto my head. In retrospect I could have released it and pulled it out, but I forgot how.
I then took charge of the red control, turned it on and activated the unwind button. With much straining, the car slowly emerged from the sallow and even when close to my car, still couldn't gain traction. We had to retreat further before the bakkie, I afterwards found - which was with diff-lock and traction control on, on a very gentle gradient - finally found purchase on the wet grass.
We all rejoiced at the great success and use of the winch that I had been told is typically never used on a trip and is an expensive and unnecessary accessory... yet here we were using it within the first week!
A very interesting discussion followed the next night about Shereen trusting her man, my taking exception to that sexist philosophy, and believing that we should be in this 50/50. Questioning that I was the leader, and ultimately deciding that she needs to express her concerns and provide input but leave the ultimate decision to me, with us both accepting the consequences. A philosophy i'm slightly uncomfortable with, but that's okay.Læs mere
Disturbing Interview with Biologists
19. marts 2025, Sydafrika
☁️ 13 °C
This afternoon at the South African Mountain Conference, Shereen and I held a fascinating interview with lepidopterist (butterfly guy) and explorer Julian Bayliss. Afterwards, a gathering of legendary explorers ensued including Steve Goodman (Madagascan biologist) and Carl Bruessow (climber of 47 of the 50 highest mountains of Africa). We gathered round a coffee table and explored a variety of topics. One such topic was that of tropical diseases. Julian started off this discussion showing pictures of himself with swollen lips, cheeks and ears. A result of having an anaphylactic reaction to a tick infestation acquired while bushwhacking through wherethefuckarewe grass.
Steve rejoined with a memory of seeing something wriggling in his eye. His wife then looked on aghast as a loa loa worm protruded from his eye before tucking back in behind the eye. This is the parasitic filarial nematode transmitted by deerflies of the genus Chrysops. Loiasis is the condition caused by these worms burrowing through the subcutaneous tissues. Filarial refers to the family of nematodes (roundworms) of the family Filariidae transmitted by the bites of flies that includes the disease elephantiasis that leads to a grotesque enlarging of the lymphatic nodes, and onchocerciasis, river-blindness. Amazingly, Loa loa does not live in the saliva of the fly, but rather feeds on the thoracic muscles of the fly and then migrates to the proboscis to hop inboard the mammalian host when the fly bites. It then doesn't take the easy route via the bloodstream, but migrates through subcutaneous tissue the length of the body, if necessary, to the eye. It then lays microfilariae that course around the bloodstream until they get sucked up by the fly to continue the cycle again.
Julian had another worm tale to follow. From eating fruit containing eggs of Ascaris lumbricoides, he contracted ascariasis. The eggs hatched into larvae in his intestines before migrating through his bloodstream where they lodged in his heart. Here they languished until finally breaking through his heart ventricles into his lungs. There they matured for 10–14 days before breaking through the alveolar walls of the lungs. They are then coughed up, swallowed, and return to the intestines to develop into adult worms and complete their life cycle. Or they would have, if the London doctors hadn't requested that he gestate them until such time as they could aquire adult stages for research!
A newcomer, Ara Monadjem, a rodent and bat mammologist was asked for his most severe disease. The resulting offer yielded a collective and enthusiastic set of murmurs. He had nearly died when contracting Lassa fever, a haemorrhagic disease in the Arenavirus family with symptoms similar to that of the Ebola virus that leads to general bleeding from the internal organs. It's generally received from ingesting the saliva, faeces or urine of rats (in his case possibly of the flying kind?). Delightfully, human-human spread is possible through infected bodily fluids. It is endemic to four countries we're going through: Nigeria, Liberia, Guinea and Sierra Leone. Infected individuals may be asymptomatic or experience a range of symptoms from headaches, fever, weakness, muscle aches, vomiting, hearing loss, and my favourite, bleeding from the mouth, nose or gastrointestinal tract. The antiviral drug Ribavirin is used as treatment.
Then someone who shall remain anonymous shared his image of grossly swollen testicles subsequent to a vasectomy. Normally one would stay a few days in bed, but our man was booked for a flight to Europe the next day.
Which reminded Julian of the time the lymph nodes in his neck got so swollen, 10x6cm, that apparently much bigger and it would have burst outwards.
Carl began to sit, and I asked him if he had any stories to beat that of testicular worms, at which point he suddenly remembered he had to be somewhere else. I too would have stayed for longer, but we had to be at Monks Cowl campsite by 6. Strapping the rooftop tent closed hastily on Skyla, Bean and I roared out along sinewy potholed roads to our camping spot at Monks Cowl campsite, arriving just three minutes late. The kind gatesman eventually arrived and let us in anyway. We found a beautiful knoll adjacent to a forest to setup camp and stayed there for the night to ponder my own upcoming vasectomy.Læs mere
Hot chocolate, cheese and hot air
23. marts 2025, Sydafrika
☀️ 23 °C
After a marvelous day at Monks Cowl, Shereen and I were enticed by an opportunity to taste chocolate. They had the usual stuff, but their signature choccie was a pink chocolate made from a red Brazilians bean. Never heard of this before! We ended up walking away with over R1000 ($50) worth of chocolate as presents for people.
Next door we ransacked the cheesery and again blew our load on gifts for the family. While there I discovered an airfield round the back and this beautiful RV10 graced the field. I discovered this creature of aerodynamic elegance was designed and built in Cape Town. Wonderful to see such innovation emerging from South Africa. While at the field I encountered Vincent from hotairballooningsa.co.za. Vincent is the son of an aeronaut who went up in his first balloon age 7. He's now clocked over 700 hours at the burner, surpassing than the topmost qualification of 500 hours. Two clients had pulled out, so I nabbed the opportunity to participate, aiming to keep it a surprise for Shereen. Well, I had to clear the memory sticks and charge the cameras and finished at 2.30am, whenupon I collapsed into the tent next to the exhausted form of Shereen. At 4am I awoke, and not trusting the alarm stayed awake till 4.31, when the alarm failed to go off due to the volume being turned down!
Nonetheless we made it, bleary-eyed by 5am to the airport.
Dawn was caressing the undulating horizon with her golden fingers as the form of the balloon started to bellow under the insistence of the petrol blowers. I struggled to get the camera to time-lapse, but eventually got it running. When I saw a gap I followed Vincent into the balloon with my Insta360 camera. Then I found my Pixel 9 phone most adept at capturing the unfolding crepuscal action with the propane burners answering the call to action. With a surprisingly swift inflation the balloon stood to attention, impelling the sleeping basket into the upright position. I hastily retreated to a distance with my time-lapse camera and left it running on the tripod. With the full-complement of seven guests waiting, I negotiated the corner position using the two step-holes built into the wicker basket. After a brief and humorous safety talk and lecture into landing protocol, Vincent feathered the valve handle, a jet of blue flame rose violently into the maw of the balloon, and the basket tentatively alighted from the ground.
For the first few minutes we hugged close to the ground, then Vincent opened the throttle and the ground receded rapidly away. Now the chocolatary complex started resembling a toy village and our car Skyla barely identifiable. A few minutes later the ground rushed up and the young apical shoots of a Eucalyptus plantation tickled The bottom of the basket. I asked Vincent if this was an advanced maneuver and he answer that it was a commonly employed maneuver known as 'air brakes'.
We bobbed up and down, Vincent periodically sending spitballs earthwards that meandered on their way down, another trick to ascertain the wind shear at various levels. Eventually, however, he radioed the men on the ground letting them know his intended landing field. As we swooped in, people huddled to various degrees in the landing position. I was more focused on capturing the moment. It was a gentle touch down for us, but the balloon grazed up against the plane trees and wedged there firmly.
After about two minutes the ground crew negotiated the fence that was mercifully unlocked, caught up to us, and we alighted, mostly ungraciously, from the basket. It turns out that it was not an advanced technique to land up against the trees, but an executive decision to avoid uncertain terrain and low fuel on the other side of the tree-line. Apparently the material is really strong and is unlikely to suffer much from it's brush with such leafy trees.
Both Shereen and I were very grateful for the opportunity and to Vincent for a trip that turned out far more fascinating and interesting than I'd anticipated. Not only that but I've been burdened with a bunch of footage to edit. Chocks away!Læs mere
Leathercraft with Wildhyde
25. marts 2025, Sydafrika
⛅ 21 °C
Shereen and I spotted a small handmade sign along the road. Shereen liked it because it had the word WILD in it. We had arrived at the home of Wildhyde. A company where proprietor Andrew still practices the artisanal craft of tanning leather by hand. All his products from incredibly cute mouse purses to a robust manly briefcase were made by his hand. It was the latter that I simply couldn't resist, it being the only one there was. It was made uniquely from a stiffer Buffalo hide and the perfect practical solution to a lack of laptop protector.
For my sisters, however, I selected two pairs of sheepskin slippers. Sister Sally @sally_may_franz is finding herself increasingly immersed in the wild where she had become a prodigious wildlife photographer so I felt a pair of veldskoen would be in order. Each pair of shoes is made by Andrew himself with carefully selected leather, softened over many months and dyed with traditional materials. What I appreciated about the veldskoene, and why I ended up buying a pair for myself, is that the leather strapping where the laces go are sufficiently far apart that the leather can stretch without fear of the shoe becoming loose due to it reaching it's limit when the leather surrounding the eyes come together. A problem I had encountered with multiple previous pairs of Veldskoen.
We left Andrew as shopaholics on High Street Kensington , having bought far more than we intended. Later we returned to inquire about botanizing in the veld above the house. Kindly, Andrew said we could set up camp in a camping area he was developing near the house. Andrew for us represented old school farm hospitality. Shereen took the opportunity to connect with his son. He was tremendously enthusiastic in showing Shereen the farm and where he played and hid, and the tree where the owls frequented.
This left little light left to find plants but what we did find excited me greatly. That evening we ended up having a hot shower from a donkey boiler. Shereen braaied sausages which we ate in hot dog rolls. The problem is that although these locally produced sausages were relatively cool on the way in, the chilli had a hell of a bite on the way out and left both of us with diarrhea the next morning. Andrew also provided an office for me to scan plants in. At 04:30, while it was still dark, Andrew was there to see us off on our way to our hot air ballooning experience. A kinder man I have seldom encountered!
Catch his products, if any are left: @wildhyde_handmadeLæs mere
Post-vasectomy trauma
27. marts 2025, Sydafrika
⛅ 22 °C
Anyone who tells you a vasectomy is a quick and pain free operation is a goddarn liar... or forgetful. It's three days on and my testicles are still retracted due to the rapidly defrosting peas encasing them. I still feel like my nuts are held in a vice-like grip, and someone is saying: "now tell me the code or else! This here pressure: this is only 20%".
Today I dared to look at "my precious" for the first time and there was an enormous purple patch. Mind you, not at the end where it is supposed to be purple, but near the base extending half-way up my disheveled shaft. Is this frostbite from having ice-blocks held on my groin perhaps?
12pm I hit the sack. But there's a certain decorum that needs to be followed through with. First I brush my teeth. Then I take a supposed antiinflammatory suppository and stick it up my fourth eye using my left hand up till the knuckle. At first I was more tentative in my insertion, but it kept backing out. You know when you're on the edge of a precipice and someone is firmly pushing you... perhaps that's how the suppository feels. It definitely drags back- in a very visceral and feltsense, traumatic memories of mum callously shoving suppositories twice the girth of this one up my nought when I was less than half the height I am today. Maybe that's the only reason I'm not gay? Thanks, Mum, you ruined my chances at being cool and creative with an awesome dress-sense!
3:30am. I've woken up. The pain is pretty intense. A 5 or 6 I would say. I fear my balls have swollen to the size of Porkie's in the pen next door. I peek. They look normal to me. Shereen thinks they look bigger than normal. I barely make it to the bog and vacate my bowels, feeling better for the strain. I embark on a bold plan. To instaneously wean myself off ice-packs. I'm talking warm-turkey, man! Shereen thinks I should follow the instructions on the pamphlet with which we were provided. I'm torn and feel to follow through with my plan of action- allowing the warmer temperature to heal the injury quicker. I consult with the Oracle; Gemini. "Typically, ice packs are used for the first 24 to 48 hours after a vasectomy to help reduce swelling and discomfort. After that, you can stop using ice packs, as the initial swelling usually begins to subside within this timeframe." That's definitely at odds to the pamphlet that says:" ice-packs 24/7 for 7 days". Isn't the 7 days implicit in the 24/7?
Thursday 6.50am. My breathing I notice is in short, crisp bursts. Altitude? Or dealing with pain that yet haunts me. Given that my scrotum is now nearly double the size after only a few hours off ice, I'm going with the latter.
10.30am Shereen is exasperated. She wants me to follow the instructions, but knows that is difficult for me to do. So as a compromise I've got a bag-o-corn pressed up against the outside of my underwear. Pain staying a constant 4. I've also discovered a bloody pool on my scrotular sac.
I've made an appointment with the clinic for tomorrow... will I survive?Læs mere
Veldstories
5. april 2025, Sydafrika
🌧 15 °C
Well, recuperation, as they don't say, has it's silver lining. In my case it's a chance to engage with outstanding work and online opportunities. My friend's dad, Pete Berman, has been an incredible role model to me during my school years. While my own father had been, rest in peace, too darn Asperger's to do anything more than watch television, with a few exceptions, Pete used to take Mark and I camping and hiking. Piketberg, Cedarberg, Gifberg, Kogelberg, Riviersonderend and many of the caves and some of the climbs became familiar to me thanks to Pete in my youth. By torchlight or firelight, a Herman Charles Bosman story would emerge. And it was to the sound of Pete's voice doing an impression of Schalk Lourens, that I would all too frequently fall asleep.
Life was simpler then, times were slower. There's a part of me that's always wanted my own children to take hiking and show the world to and read Bosman. But I also feel like I have too little time in the world to do the things I have to do. On top of that, I really struggle with the idea of making Shereen pregnant, again. And having to choose between another painful and resentful abortion, and having a child during our time exploring the continents. Thus it is with a somewhat heavy heart that I made the choice to have a vasectomy.
There's one other aspect that I struggle with. I feel like it's taken me 47 years to find someone as kind, understanding and tolerant as Shereen. All qualities that are necessary if you are to be my partner. I've certainly come close a few times if I look back over my hallowed dating career. But there's one other rare quality: being okay with not having children. Would Shereen like children? Yes. But not with me. She says I'm too selfish.
So, instead, I provide readings of Bosman to you, not as my children, but as friends, and family. To listen to in your own time. I feel that Bosman was an environmentalist and a fighter for equality during apartheid. In his own way, he prodded the system and pointed out that the indigenous people of Africa have their own innate mental and cultural intelligence, different from that of the white man. And the white man, has his own mental and cultural stupidity and density. This kind of cultural self-deprecation was perhaps necessary to offset the predominant paradigm at the time and shortly after the rise and fall of Naziism: that the white man is the de-facto superior race. We are, where we are, culturally and technologically thanks to the predominance of this western "intelligence".
Perhaps there was wisdom, even in the 1950's, of Bosman setting his stories fifty years earlier, a time before cars roamed the roads and radio waves, whether digital or analogue, unified the world to the same technological clock.
Listen to Bosman's stories on https://open.spotify.com/show/3QQfcQz4To3ERMvT9…Læs mere
Clarens Crazy Golf and a Bean Meal
13. april 2025, Sydafrika
☀️ 21 °C
After two days at the foot of the Drakensberg, we exited Golden Gate National Park to the town of Clarens. With a quaint village feel, The Base contains an assortment of adventure sports including a horse ride, climbing wall, zipline, "quik jump" and "turbo tube" with tyres on a slippery slope. I can just hear squealing from where I'm sitting.
But it was the moerkoffie at the Mill and Bean, that Bean was drawn to. The condensed milk, a signature of this South African heritage drink was strong, but with the homemade condensed milk made by the chefs that apparently included butter, it had a dark and creamy texture with a smoky base note.
After stuffing our bellies with confectionary from the bakery, we waddled over for a round of putt-putt. This was whacky crazy golf with an Alice-in-Wonderland theme. It’s the most fun course I’ve ever done! I’ve always wanted to create an adventure putt-putt in Cape Town, so I consider this research. There were hats and holes and a long tongue that the ball slid down, and a need for many tricky shots. Well, besides research, I also need to do practise, apparently. Shereen sunk the final hole into the spout of the giant teapot before me! After that it’s voorwards to the Lesotho border!Læs mere
Our Lord and Saviour: Wyndford Farm
13. april 2025, Sydafrika
☀️ 20 °C
We were in for a grave disappointment. And Wyndford farm and holiday resort was our saviour! We approached the border with some trepidation, knowing that Shireen did not have her passport, and at the window, she was thoroughly rebuffed with an admonishment of "you must be joking!". A miserable Bean was turned away and in addition I found out that they do not have a working telephone at the border, hence having to travel there to find out that they would not let her into Lesotho.
So traveling away from the Caledonspoort borderpost, Shereen being the very picture of shrunken misery, we passed a sign for Wyndford Holiday farm. "Go back Bean", I entreated her. So we drove in up the drive and past an elderly couple, the man wearing a navy blue cardigan. This is germaine to the story, because when we arrived everything was like traveling back 43 years into the past and the photos of my childhood at Eight Bells where we occasionally holidayed.
Sited under an imposing sandstone formation looking remarkably like a tortoise, the farm's emblem, emblazoned on the multiple staff members shirts, was source of not inconsiderable friction with the traditionalists when the new owners took over last year and changed the logo from green to blue.
Anyway, we told our sob story and the woman on reception, Denys, said she can give us accommodation in a room and I said that we would rather camp so she came back with an agreeable price. Shortly thereafter, a mirthful man ran before the car, guiding us, before leaping lithely onto the back of the car. His name was Josef, and he turned out to be the proprietor of the establishment. Having setup the tent, we were just in time for tea and cookies, followed by a guided tour of the nearby hillside. Erard, our guide for the two-hour walk, provided a slew of anecdotes about the trees and bushes, including Afrikaans (vyf-ster-vuur-stok-appel), common names and the history of the farm. We found a variety of mushrooms along the way, but what particularly struck me was the similarity of the vegetation to the Cape Fynbos vegetation. Various ericoid shrubs formed the low canopy including two Erica species, Metalasia densa, Selago, Anthospermum, Passerina and Hebenstretia. The latter is a genus that I've seen on the high mountains all the way to Ethiopia and is one of my candidates for a genetic phylogeny to uncover ancient patterns of migration.
One thrilling moment was when Shereen called me back. "Look, Love", she exclaimed, pointing to the ground where all seven of us trod moments before. There, recoiled and occasionally thrusting in a threatening but ineffective posture was the cutest little snake I have ever encountered, with an orange smile. Erard declared it to be a red–lipped herald snake. After photographing and filming this ophidian delight, my first sighting of this species, we trailed back in the dusk.
After giving thanks for an enthralling walk, Shereen, who had been wanting to learn chess, and I, played on one of those enormous boards. It was a drawn out game, and after a bell rang, I called it a draw and headed back to our car... past the dinner hall. Unlike Shereen, I knew what that bell meant and that supper had been ordered, so I maneuvered her to and through the dining hall into the lounge beyond. But it was all a ruse and a wonderful surprise when I finally pulled out a chair for Shereen to sit down at.
Set in a dining hall with walls made from stone hewn from local rock, I marveled and balked at the thought of the effort to cut these stones from the rock, chisel them to the approximate dimensions, some being well over a meter in length, then haul them by cart to the house before hefting them into position underlain by homemade mortar. The meal included fresh salad, bobotie (a delicious South African curried meat dish) and a mousse-tricolore.
What followed was an appalling game of riddles. Not that the presentation was bad, but one Klever-boots Kim, a third of my age, kept guessing the answers after only a few words, exasperating both the guests and the host, who buried his head into his hands. But it was greatly amusing. We went to bed with a full heart and even more pronounced belly.Læs mere
Challenges at Wyndford Farm
14.–15. apr. 2025, Sydafrika
⛅ 21 °C
At 3:00 in the morning. the roosters from, Lesotho began a symphony in the distance. This chorus again started up at dawn but at least at this time the other birds joined in. It was around this time that I went to work and left Shereen in bed.
I envisaged us having a shower together, but Shereen had other ideas and waited till I had finished. About 2 minutes later she yells the hot water's gone, so much to her. Chagrin, one of us had a hot shower and one of us had a cold shower. We then sat down for A very decent multi-course breakfast that included cereals yogurt, fruit, toast made with locally produced jam, Maltabella sorghum porridge, an African grain, and a quiche.
Shereen worked off her breakfast with a Riverwalk and a chat with Kevin about health and well-being. I had my bi-weekly meeting with my Casabio software developers. We're at an exciting point in which we're into the third week and final week of the integration of a mapping module. This will enable a slew of functionality that has been missing for the last few years and the final step towards our minimal viable product. After this it's refinement, incremental improvement and lots of testing.
A tennis match followed lunch. It was the Bean and I versus the Squabblin' Sisters. One was a local champion at her school, do it was a tightly contested match! Additionally, due to a certain operation two and a half weeks prior which went septic, every time I took more than a few steps, I felt like someone had just taken a Nerf gun to my nethers. So I was relieved when we were called for tea and I called it a draw.
After tea I then played an even more intense game of chess with Sister Bailey, who professed to playing chess since she was four and in the school league. I on the other hand infrequently play and frequently get beaten. So I started off moving fast and confidently: a ruse meant to make her think I'm better than I am. But after three moves my brain fried and I hesitated. A few moves later she had my bishop and my king was in for a skewering with my castle. Fortunately I spotted the trap, and half an hour of tense moves later it was the endgame phase and I was up a few minor pieces and suing for a queen. Due to an impending Uno game, I called it a draw.
The Uno game was bloody brilliant, and while Shereen was working on a @casabiochronicles Instagram post, she heard our laughter from the other room. Matthew, our games master was terrific and kept shouting 'Holy Moly'. Things got heated when I started adding rules like, special cards can only be put down with the left hand, and you have to spin around. But it was when the pick-up-two and pick-up-four stack reached 24 cards that people felt very sorry for me. My face fell. 'No', I explained reaching for the stack of cards, and as I did so I placed another card on the deck. It was a pick-up-two card. 'Noooo', squealed Matthew in disbelief and rage! Thus ended another fabulous evening, and we retired to a tent. A tent that had the window left open, so our duvet and mattress were sodden at the feet.Læs mere
For the love of Lesotho
20.–23. apr. 2025, Lesotho
☀️ 3 °C
This part of the world has been calling to me for many many, did I say many moons, since I was a young girl in fact, and finally, I now better understand why. The mountains that go on endlessly, the sound of the bells on the sheep as they graze, the shepherds that sing songs loud and true for all to hear, the comfort and protection that the Seanamarena provides, the white, green, and occasional red flags on the huts along route that signal Sorghum beer, snacks or clothing for sale in people’s homes and the unmistakable chill of the wind, calling me present though every gust. From high peaks to low lows, I am brimming, feeling, and listening to this vast land, the Kingdom in the Sky, as best as I know how.Læs mere
Joburg, visas and family
23. apr. – 3. maj 2025, Sydafrika
☁️ 14 °C
Shereen grew up in Joburg, so we visited her Dad where her brother, Jonathan and Tish live. We were greeted by a throng of hound-pooches, 14 to be exact, two parrots and a wayward pussy. After the full-on greeting and the hounds settled down, we got to chatting with Jonathan and Tish. Shereen last saw her brother and father in 2018 so there was plenty to catch up on. We ended up spending two nights there, and left with gifts from Jonathan including a toolkit that I ended up using a few days later. Shereen's dad's workshop came in handy and he helped us with a plan for the tent rods that we'd been struggling with for weeks, the fuel tanks that were prohibitively in the way, uniquely designed tent pegs and a hose for our water tanks. I braved playing with (tormenting) the parrots, one of which threatened to bite me, and the other which shrieked so loudly that Tish came running thinking that the dogs were attacking it. We also played a game of arsehole. A card game that Jonathan explained to his 11 year old son, could not be uttered except in the context of the game. It was a raucous game and the positions of both president and arsehole were hotly contested!
Our next stop was Aunty Beth and Harold and her now grown cousins whom Shereen had not seen for ten years. The entire family had a rock band, so we shared in great conversations about the greats like Meatloaf.
Obligatory visitations included Shereen's mum, Jenny, who had been cautious about the prospect of seeing us. The bathroom wall was in a state of disrepair, so while the girls' shopped, I sneakily bought the hardware for fixing up the wall. Under false pretenses of having a super-long toiletry requirement, I scraped, scrubbed, rubbed and plastered the wall leaving it with a sheen of sealant. Jenny then mentioned a hoover appliance that no longer worked. With Jonathan's toolkit I sliced, spliced and tackled the loose power cables in the depths of the belly of the beast. Verifying the connection, Jenny turned off the electrical supply... or so I thought. Suddenly the beast sprang to life. I was THIS close to getting inadvertently executed by my "mother in law".
Our visit extended to Cousin Lee and hubby Jimmy, who were experts in using pharmaceuticals to attain focus for the day ahead. In particular, Jimmy had hacked his ADHD, evident in a sprawl of fish-tanks and terraria that housed exotic and native millipods; that bubbled and whirred away in his office. Using a micro dose of sleeping pills in the morning to put the distractive part of his brain to sleep, allowed Jimmy to perform mental miracles at his job. The downside: the medication has been strongly implicated in leading to early onset Alzheimers.
James Cole, Shereen's five-year old nephew with a keen curiosity of bugs was gifted with our new favorite bug-book. The second afternoon we gamboled up to Northcliffe ridge. The view was surprisingly verdant over the suburbs, and it was a treat to investigate the composition of species there. The usual Clematis rambled there, but there was a hairy species, Clematis Villosa, that I hadn't seen before, a crab spider inhabiting its hairy fruit cluster.Læs mere
Some time with the magnificent Cath!
25. apr. – 2. maj 2025, Sydafrika
🌙 15 °C
Cath lives in Johannesburg and was tempted to join us a few years back as the expeditionary doctor. Cath phoned me up for the first time in many months, and amazingly, we were traveling and at a loose end as to where to stay and were a mere 15 minutes from her new place. So fresh in fact that we got to meet the estate agents before we met Cath, and before Cath met the agents. After the meet up, Cath had to head to the hospital for work, so we ended up staying at her former lodgment and tested out the bath and shower. It was the most horrendously engineered piece of designer ware. The bath was wide with an obtusely angled, but non-curved backrest - entirely unergonomic. The designer was so cool that they felt that it was unnecessary to label the hot and cold taps. The designer decided to spray the water in a beautiful fan. Wonderful for aesthetics, but absolutely shite for retaining the heat of the water - it was luke warm by the time it reached the bath itself. Worse than that, the nozzle was recessed slightly, and angled at a considerable angle from vertical towards the unfortunate bather. Taking a hot bath necessitated using boiling water such that the bath was hot enough, but it also meant risking being burned like sliced lamb on a Lebanese rotisserie. Finally the tap was out of reach for bathers, so I was forced to perform a shrimp maneuver to attain the tap with my feet. The toilet too had both of my favorite gripes too: A rear-wall that slopes dramatically towards the incumbent and dual-flush buttons. Allow me to elaborate. 100 years ago there were water closets (designed by Mr T. Crapper himself!) that had a massive porcelain basin sitting about 2m above the toilet. This ensured sufficient water to flush away the brown demons. I've also witnessed an "inspection shelf" in Mozambique, design possibly of Portuguese origin that allows a user to inspect the quality of their turds as an indicator of health. Back in the 80's and 90's we had a handle attached to the toilet, that due to providing some leverage, allowed even the least dexterous person to flush the toilet with ease. Inside was a simple and fairly foolproof mechanism with a spherical float, and when that float reached the desired level with the water filling up, it closed the valve that delivered water to the cistern. The toilets used to flush till the cistern was empty, but due to water restrictions, the municipality suggested that people install a system that allowed people to lift the handle once the turd had been sufficiently flushed, stopping the flow of water. An excellent solution.
When I was in my early postgraduate years at the University of Cape Town, I stayed at the house of one of the Michaelis family of Michaelis Art School fame. It was an old house with no hot water, broken floorboards, but it was imminently affordable. We were told it would be just R600 for the month. By the time payment came for the month, and I'd moved in, she said that the price was ludicrous, and it was R2300 per month. This was the first time I encountered the dual flush system of a 3/4 moon embedded in a crescent moon. It was not obvious to me which was the lesser flush for urine and the greater flush for poops: was it the the thinner outer- or the bigger inner-moon. But it didn't matter because neither worked. The dust and concrete from recent renovations had thoroughly clogged up the delicate mechanism of the toilet, working their way between the moons and the surrounds, rendering our toilet flushable only by bucket. Strike one for the dual-flush toilet. Incidentally, when Anne Michaelis pushed up the prices further, I was forced to move out. I spoke to the residents some two years later. Turns out that she had pulled the same grift on them, charging them next to nothing, then charging more before the end of the month.
But I digress. This bathroom at Cath's, as I said, had it all. The back of the toilet sloped down at an unnecessarily shallow angle. I think the idea is that the power of the water is meant to flush off the crap better if it's at a shallower angle. The problem is, it frequently doesn't. So then - after flushing - the bog brush needs to be grabbed: a device that always freaks me out slightly. But by the time you've found out the flush doesn't work, you then need to wait for it to restore enough water to flush off both the brush and the residual bits that now inhabit the bowl. But one is always too impatient the first time, so then you have to flush a third time. What a waste of time, effort and water! The solution - make the back sloped directly down, or even backwards. That way no feculence besmirches its porcelain patina.
But we had a delightful time, and soon, Cath, Shereen and I roared off to Loskop Dam to look for Hermannia medusae (Loskop means lost head, and the medusa had her head chopped off, so it's a pun on that). Only collected by Marinda Koekemoer, it's a species that I've hunted at Loskop dam twice for now, and we didn't end up finding it. Crossing over the bridge, we did see a young croc basking in the sun on a rock, a mere 15m from us. I was under the impression that crocs stuck to calmer waters, but how wrong I was. The night before, camped out under a full moon by the rivers edge, I was going to take a dip, but Shereen spotted a croc in the water about 5m from where I was going to swim. Crazy close! But I did, on my cycle with Cath, encounter three young motocross bikers. I managed to get my first ride on a motocross bike, and it was super fun. I'm super keen to get my Starke Varg, which is the world's best mass-produced electric motocross bike; and it's made by Swedish designers in Portugal. Loskop Dam was phenomenally impressive. Even more so because it was in full-spate.
On the way back from the dam I came across a thick pipe lying on the ground across both lanes. It was oddly patchy and more so, as I was about to ride over it - it moved! I realized immediately it was a snake, leapt off my bicycle, fumbled for my phone, snapped a picture, and moved to grab it. Cath, who at this point had pulled up, had a look of horror on her face. "What are you doing?!" she gasped. Without answering, I reached down and grabbed the snake by the tail. I did not however grab it strongly enough and the snake rapidly retracted its tale and dove into the bush. It was an African rock python that I estimate to be about 5m long and about 20cm in diameter.
Thanks so much to Cath: doctor to my septic vasectomy, bath buddy, bank loaner for my electron microscope, cycling partner and friend, who has been unstinting in her kindness towards me.Læs mere
Visa Rant
7. maj 2025, Sydafrika
☀️ 22 °C
Between visits to those whom love us in JHB, we made incursions to the depths of Pretoria to various embassies.
The US embassy was very austere. We queued outside, meeting several farmers who were taking advantage of Trump's invitation for Afrikaners to work in the US. A security officer lightened us of our phones and after body scans we were herded towards a waiting area outside a manicured and unimaginative gardenscape. After a few minutes more we were led into the inner sanctum, where the volume seldom exceeded 40db: library volume. A snaking queue led to several cubicles separated by thickened bullet-proof glass with electronic speakers facilitating communication.
I could see that Shereen was appalled by neatly dressed adults accompanying two equally manicured children. "I know you're triggered by those adults, what's happening, Shereen?” "What do you notice?" "That they are paying attention to the children and holding their hands?" "No, don't you see that the children have no independence? They are not spoken to at their level. They are not explained what is happening. They are just pushed from one place to the next. They are dressed by the parents, and the little one is carried by dad, not given a chance to walk on his own. So many children are not treated as citizens of the world, they are not spoken to with respect and are not part of conversations about what it's like to be at an embassy. That's why we have adults who can't make decisions for themselves as they haven't been able to practice since they were tiny."
The person in the queue before us was not granted her visa, and the man behind the microphone said in a matter-of-fact way, that she would find the reasons why in the provided document. "Next". We stepped up to the window, confidence and friendliness hopefully masking the concern we felt on the inside. This was the same patriarchal relationship that society has perpetuated since before innumerable Jews stood before Nazi officials, holding out their documents with their life or internment hanging in the balance. After a few minutes of examining documents, asking probing about our occupation, route and funding, and a reminder that on the tourist visa we could not earn money, we were told that our visa request had been approved.
At this moment I posed the question, can I in addition apply for a business visa? "Please refer to the website for visa requirements". Sorry, I don't quite understand, I rejoined, with an accompanied dig in the ribs from Shereen and an attendant scowl, "can I or can I not receive a separate business visa?". "Yes, he gruffly responded". We turned away with our document of acceptance in hand and with instructions that we could collect the passport in two weeks’ time. "If we don't get that visa, it's because of you and your endless questions!".
The Republic of Congo embassy we reached with two minutes to spare. To our consternation, no one appeared at the gate upon pressing the buzzer. Forward ten minutes, a delivery man having arrived in the meantime, and finally a well-dressed man in a suit opened the gate. We were allowed to pay $50 for a visa along with R2000 for expediting the visas from 10 down to two days. We had to pay in cash, so stopped at an ATM conveniently close to an ice-cream shop. I bought decadent ice-creams for ourselves, then got two for the consulate staff. When we returned with our sweet treat (bribe), they took it without much more than an acknowledgement, then we left. But Shereen wanted to confirm that we didn't need DHL, so returned to find the two in high spirits and visibly excited by the prospect of tucking into their ice-cream.
Two days later we went to pick up our documents and concatenate that with the Liberian embassy application. We got there in good time, but the embassy was under refurbishment, so we were given the phone number of the diplomat, and he said he would be across shortly which became worryingly longly. He finally strode in two hours later and led the way across the rubble to his office. We got off on the wrong foot, literally, as his first question to us was why were we barefoot? I answered humorously that I didn't have shoes, but my humour fell flat. Strike one. After an inquisition that would have left the Spanish inquisitors propping up their eyelids, we were granted our visa and because we had paid an extra R350 per visa to expedite it, he said we could pick it up in two days’ time - a public holiday. Other than sending him Shereen's proof of bank account, we were one step nearer.
I successfully negotiated with Shereen that she pick up the passports from the Congolese embassy, while I went to scope out the requirements for the embassy of the DRC. I found out that you need a letter of invitation and a hotel booking. So we booked online with a "free cancellation" hotel and requested a letter of invitation.
When we went in, there were hordes of Congolese passing in and out of the strictly controlled turnstyle. A man with glasses had a bouncer-like vibe, and arbitrarily seemed to let people in. We were directed to the counter and asked about our requirements. I said transit on the 30th of November. Hang on, she said, and called another man. After a few minutes of discussion in French, she said that was okay, but where is our letter of invitation. I showed her the hotel booking, but she said we needed an invitation.
As were leaving, the man behind the counter called us aside. "What's the problem?" he asked? We need to get a letter of invitation and they said we can't expedite the visa. "You can get the visa later today, and we will do the letter too. R1000, R1000 and R750 each for the letter. So you bring R3500 in cash. Given my reticence to spend a further two weeks in Joburg, I griped with Shereen about not knowing anyone who could give us a letter of invitation in the DRC. Wait, what about Tresor, my old software developer, I think he's from the DRC. When I phoned he was on lunch, but said he would write the letter. An hour later I had it in hand, and felt a certain measure of glee at denying the diplomatic scoundrel his R1500 for a duplicated letter. He had the last laugh though. We waited the entire day by the embassy. When Shereen at the end of the day climbed into the car with the visa, she looked at it - something I likely wouldn't have done. "They've got the dates wrong!", she exclaimed. I sent her back in and he said it would be ready by 11am because the person who could sign it had left. Shereen followed up at the designated time, but only received the passport at 2pm. A day and a half, and R7500 later we were able to leave Joburg. Bearing in mind that most countries charge 50 USD for a visa, even the base rate of R2000 for a visa is extortion and probably indicative of things to come. How do they justify this visa cost?!
With public holidays and weekends coinciding with our visa applications, by expediting all three visas, we had probably gained an extra three weeks. But it had cost us R5500 for the three visas. In addition, the R4500 in petrol turned into R15 000. I was thinking the $50 visa fees are expensive, but if this continues, we'll be poverty stricken before we reach the equator!
Alas we are finally on our way!Læs mere
Lentswe la Baratani - Botswana
9.–12. maj 2025, Botswana
☀️ 16 °C
Ahhhhhh, we have arrived in Botswana. What a pleasure to be here. First stop, Gaborone to spend some time with Professor Dlamini. The Prof and I went off to enjoy the most abundant breakfast known to humankind, while the Bean stayed behind to have a video call with the children in the Sunbirds Class, where she used to teach at Mulberry Tree. Needless to say, when we saw Shereen again an hour or so later, she was overflowing with love, smiles, and appreciation after seeing those she cares for so dearly.
After our hearts and bellies were nourished, we headed to town for some shopping and then decided that Otse Hill would be our next destination visit. And what a choice that was. Also known as Lentswe la Baratani or the ‘Lovers’ Hill” it carries a legend about two young lovers who were refused permission to marry. Despondent and in protest they went up the hill, never to return after their families disapproved of their seeing each other. Legend also has it that the two are now ancestors and do not allow anyone to climb the hill or that if one goes up the hill they will disappear. The hill is considered sacred, and historically Batswana would neither climb the hill nor point to it. From the villagers’ perspective, it will be shocking to doubt the enormous powers the hill possesses; hence climbing it is considered distasteful, disrespectful, and dreadful.
We camped at the foot of the hill by night, and by day visited the waterfall and surrounds botanizing and delighting in the creatures, vegetation, and caves we explored. Before heading out on our adventure, however, we were sure to leave offerings to the ancestors and gifts for those beings that hold this land sacred.
We came across many people who frequented this sacred hill coming to prey, baptize, make offerings, collect medicine, and connect with their ancestors. We happened upon Elliot and Phillip on Friday evening, traveling on rough terrain in a small Mazda, to get to the foot of the hill. Their car went as far as it could, and so we offered them a lift the rest of the way. Elliot sat up front with Shereen and me, while Phillip stood on the back bumper of Skyla, holding onto the roof rack while we navigated the tricky road. After arrival, we greeted them and they were off to prey and spend the night communing with the ancestors. By sunrise, we welcomed them back with delicious hot chocolate, biscuits, grapes, citrus, and yogurt. What a magnificent way to be introduced to Botswana, its people, the land, and this sacred site. Phillip and Elliot shared stories with us and told us about the success of their evening prayers and how their gifts have been well received by the ancestors. These men looked content, tired, and immensely peaceful.
Before departing Lentswe la Baratani, the Bean and I went on a cleaning expedition and were able to fill 3 bags of plastic waste, foil, fabric, beer and milk cartons, glass bottles, burnt tins, and other items left on the hill. This is our way of showing reverence, respect and appreciation for the beautiful land we inhabit and get to enjoy.Læs mere
Our time in the Land of the Tswana
11.–17. maj 2025, Botswana
☀️ 29 °C
Both David and I were intrigued by the traditional medicine stalls we drove past through Botswana on rote to Nata. Obviously we stopped, met with a Inyanga and his apprentice and got a better understanding of what Muti was on offer. Powders, roots, bulbs, seed pots, teas, infusions, ointments and nature talismans were available. After a short consultation with the medicine man, we purchased a drink to be taken over two days, three times a day to clean out our digestive and urinary systems. We both finished our muti as prescribed and experienced a very gentle “service” indeed.
Part of our exploration joyfully included tasting some local cuisine, and we fortunate to find street vendors with huge pots hiding tasty and filling delights. Shangi’s Kitchen and Snack-Zone kitchen were amongst our favorites.
In the moments that arise when we are not off botanizing, documenting, scanning and being mesmerized by mother nature, we are resting, removing thorns from happy feet, frolicking with fellow travelers and grabbing a paddle enjoying Nata River by canoe. Eselbe Camp Backpackers thank you for being spectacular, we will see you again dear Rupert, for a delicious meal and to share many more stories together.Læs mere
Houses of stone
16.–19. maj 2025, Zimbabwe
☀️ 25 °C
We have arrived in the Zimbabwe, aka “houses of stone”. Wild camping has been easy in this astonishing vast country and we have been spoiled for choice with many nooks, crannies and dirt roads that lead to exquisite landscapes. The eye candy in the form of plant, animal and insect life has been remarkable to experience, from late night scorpion hunting, to finding creepy crawlies on the side of the road where we took comfort breaks, we were in what felt like constant awe calling to one other to come and look at what the other had found.
Out first stop was the the Victoria Falls National Park, the waters were full, abundant and soaked us thoroughly from our head to our toes, despite our puny little poncho’s. She certainly was showing off and did so superbly! What a sight, her rumbling sound and the freshness of her droplets! We were wet, happy humans thereafter and heard her raw as we fell asleep that evening.
The road we travelled from Victoria Falls to Bulawayo took us three days. Thankfully it is impossible to get speeding fines in these parts, instead this road calls for superior pot hole dodging skills, patience and even affords you time to meet and socialise with other avid travellers.
Our dear Skyla developed a new squeak, the piston in the back break would not release, and how fortuitous that we managed to find Zee’s. Zee not only had a tyre tool service, but also…………………….yep, you guessed it, a take away corner. So after attending to a quick fix allowing us to get to Bulawayo to find a spare part, Mr Nibbles (David) chose us Mazondo and Sadza to sustain our endlessly hungry bellies. This dish is considered a delicacy and is known for its unique flavour and textures. My first time ever eating cow trotters and I can honestly say I will need to further develop my palate to really appreciate these again.Læs mere
Discovering the Khami Ruins
20. maj 2025, Zimbabwe
☀️ 25 °C
While at Victoria Falls, David and I took a quick picture of a display showing some interesting sites to visit across Zimbabwe, and what a treat it was to discover this gem.
Starting our journey at the site museum, we were able to learn more about this remarkable place. We were grateful to have met Knowledge who spent many hours with us as our guide. We greatly appreciated his patience, gentle nature, enthusiasm, and storytelling abilities; this is where our love affair with Zimbabwe was further fuelled.
These Ruins are an extensive complex of stonewalled sites that lies just west of Bulawayo. The stonewalls were symbols of prestige, wealth, and power as opposed to defence or protection as I originally thought. The largest of the ruins was the home of the King and his family.
The walls are not bonded and the individual blocks are balanced on each other without cement. The stones used to build the walls were quarried from the local granite using fire to heat the rock followed by rapid cooling. The blocks were then shaped using cobble hammers to create standardised small stone “bricks”.
Yet another complex that was fascinating to me was the “passage platform”, which was built less linearly, with walls that were curvaceous and rounded. This area was dedicated to the women who would gather in this space to give birth, menstruate, and perform rites of passage ceremonies together. There were also midwives, medicine women, and elders who spent most of their time there ensuring that women who needed support could go there and be helped. WOW! Needless to say, the men continued, while I spent some time in the passage platform feeling deeply grateful for how magnificent it is for me to be woman!Læs mere
The Natural History Museum of Zimbabwe
24.–26. maj 2025, Zimbabwe
☀️ 18 °C
The Natural History Museum of Zimbabwe was one spot we could not get enough of, spending two days taking in all that was on offer. Starting in the herbarium, of course, Shereen and I spent many happy hours curating the Hermannia genus and leaving this area of the herbarium pristinely ordered.
With so many incredible displays to see and knowledge to glean, we will have to visit again when time is on our side. Exhibits included the invertebrate gallery, paleontology, geology, and a spectacular showcase of fauna, comprising large and small mammals, amphibians, reptiles, fish, and birds. Visual treats in this section included the second largest ever mounted African elephant, a Dodo egg, and one of the first ever caught Coelacanth – a pre-historic fish species. Let us not forget the beautiful development of man exhibit, comprising of ancient rock art and the progression of Stone Age and Iron Age history right up to the more modern colonial experience. What a rich history Zimbabwe has.
With great appreciation to Moira Fitzpatrick, the Director of this remarkable space, for your time and abundance, allowing us access to the Herbarium and facilitating our time there.Læs mere
All things Harare!
28. maj – 4. jun. 2025, Zimbabwe
☁️ 21 °C
Our time in Harare was nourishing for both our bodies and our spirits. We are replenished and ready to continue our adventure to the eastern highlands of Zimbabwe.
Delightfully, Casabio Chronicles visited their first school, The Mutendi Montessori Day School where Mr D and his compliment of staff were welcoming, professional, curious, and shared with us their warmth and care. On Thursday, Shereen spent the morning within the 3-6 environment observing and connecting with the guides and children in that class. As part of school visits, we leave some material for the children to work with to further nurture their interest and appreciation for Botany. To this end, we were sure to leave a magnifying glass, hand lens, plant press, and sewing supplies for the children to use to mount their herbarium specimens on cardboard. The guides were so excited to receive these items and could hardly wait to put them on the shelf the following week. FriYAY morning saw David presenting to all ages of the school (2 – 15-year-olds) his passion for all things plants, weaving together many threads that could be later elaborated on by the teachers. The best way to spend a morning or two!
The Tree Society to Harare came together on Friday afternoon showing spectacular support for a talk David gave entitled “Up-close and Personal”. Obviously, David was on top form doing what he loves and thrilled the attendees with some of his more recent pictures taken on the journey thus far and showcased Casabio’s latest developments. Merriment was had by all; great botanical conversations were shared and witnessing the deep sense of community that this Society embodies was just beautiful. We greatly appreciate the generous donations that the members made to Casabio Chronicles and those funds we utilized to repair our dear Skyla, fill up with diesel, and attend to our solar panel palaver! Tada, we have a very happy Skyla as a result and are can confidently report that she is fit for journeying again!
What would a visit to Harare be without some Jui Jitsu? Most fortuitous for Shereen indeed, Coach Steve (from SBG Cape Town) was in Harare to help Lewis prepare for his upcoming MMA fight. It has been years since Shereen saw and trained with Lewis, who while in Cape Town was one of SBG’s die-hard students, making it to many if not all classes weekly. Lewis Mataya is now the head coach at Zimbabwe MMA & Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu SBG ATG and a spectacular human being who deserves EVERYTHING that comes his way, you are a big, beautiful, smiley, happy heart indeed! Love you to the moon and back Lewis bear, thank you for being such an inspiration to me and my long, long, long stay away/train relationship with Jui Jitsu. Coach Steve, what timing we have hey, seeing you in Harare. When we get back home to CT, I will not pay for classes and stay away, but come and play rather, I greatly appreciate how you teach this art and despite myself, always go away feeling like I can roll! I had such a great time seeing you again. Thank you for all that you are, and for the many ways you show your care!
The name Harare means, “he who does not sleep”, and can I say that one of the things we did exceptionally well here is sleep, thanks to the love, hospitality, joy, and care of our gracious hosts Mark and Linda Hyde. Your astounding, bottomless capacity to have us in your home and extend your courtesy to us is unparalleled. Thank you for showing us how, should we get the privilege in the future to support weary travellers, exactly how to do it with grace. Deeply Grateful to you both, may you continue to stay well and be blessed!Læs mere
The land of plenty and mystery.
2.–6. jun. 2025, Zimbabwe
☀️ 12 °C
Just do it, just find your way to this part of the world at least once in your life. The place where thought has no choice but to stop due to the utter elegant beauty of the landscape. Our time here was spent meeting the old wise ones, connecting with the conservation crew at Nyanga National Park, and soaking up as much as we could of the botanical delights, scenery, crisp mountain air, and unfathomable grace of the Eastern Highlands.Læs mere
Boa tarde Mozambique, we have arrived!
7.–13. jun. 2025, Mozambique
⛅ 25 °C
First stop, Gorongosa. After meeting the research team and having a tour of the infamous E.O. Wilson Laboratory, Marc and Piotr kindly arranged for us to accompany two students completing their masters in various areas of study, to a part of the mountain that was safely accessible. Due to political unrest and our timing, we were unable to successfully arrange an expedition to the top of the Mountain but greatly appreciate that we were able to explore the rainforest, and were awe struck by the phenomenal work that takes place at Mount Gorongosa and its contribution to both the local and scientific community alike.Læs mere
Mount Mabu and all the marvellous mud.
14.–17. jun. 2025, Mozambique
☁️ 23 °C
We can categorically say that we have thoroughly tested ALL of the equipment that Skyla has on board. Happily, the jack, puncture repair kit, compressor, tow rope, winch, max tracks, shovel, and walkie-talkies proved invaluable as we negotiated our way from the Lugela District to the base of Mabu. The route had been blessed with plentiful rainfall for days before us leaving, and the drizzle contained on the day we left. Dirt roads + rain = a marvellous mud mosh pit of fun and 16 hours of opportunities to get unstuck and help out the other car we were travelling with to pull through. Oh how well we all slept, finally arriving at 4:30 am, originally assuming the entire trip would have taken a mere three hours.
David and Dan studied together at UCT and had a fabulous time reconnecting. Dan is part of the Justicia Ambiental team that runs various projects at Mount Mabu, this time around they will be building two additional classrooms at the local school and upskilling the farmers on various ways to further make use of the crops that grow so abundantly in this area. It was such a pleasure to assist them to get some needed equipment to the site and mud mosh with them. Wishing you great success as your building project progresses.
David was man down with Giardia for a few days, so alas, rest and recuperation took precedence over exploration. Thankfully we had a healthy supply of Flagyl and The Naked Botanist was back to his usual antics as we left Mabu to drive to Malawi.Læs mere
RejsendeYay .. lucky you both have leather feet 👣 🙃😂
RejsendeGood start
Rejsende
This is a Rad photo of you two.