I leapt up full of energy on Day 5, ready to tackle mountains and wild bush pigs. I put on some lovely dry, clean socks which quickly absorbed all the excess water from my sodden shoes and squelched out the hut for a sumptuous breakfast of coffee and rusks against the backdrop of the most spectacular view. My enthusiasm was not even dampened by the fact that my pack was as heavy as it was the first day due to all the wet clothes ..... I had been bitten by the hiking bug and could suddenly understand why they all kept going back for more.
We set off briskly and soon encountered the Bosbou guys in their 4x4 coming to see if we were okay after our ordeal the day before. Kevin mentioned that he was so glad to see I'd overcome my frog phobia .... apparently while standing talking at the bakkie, three frogs were happily frolicking to and fro over my feet. I ran the next kilometre. First time I’d been in front of the pack. After just over an hour and not one stinking mountain, nor a single drop of sweat, we were suddenly back in civilization - at the Shell Ultra City at the Storms River bridge. What a let down. The last days walk is only 3,5 km. And there I was, finally fit enough to take on Kilimanjaro.
We stood and stared in horror at all the noisy cars and clean people. Ugh! Just as I was really beginning to appreciate being in the wild bush surrounded by musclebound sweaty, unshaven men. We were also all dressed a bit funny having thrown together our ensembles from whatever dry and relatively clean clothing we could salvage from our packs. So there was nothing for it but to head for the restaurant and order some ice cold beers.
We then drove back to Natures Valley, my, the scenery went by quickly! We all had a HOT shower and put on clean clothes we'd kept specially in the trailer and that was fabulous. All the girls then hauled out various appearance enhancing accessories which I hadn’t thought to bring since I thought I was packing for a hike, and stepped out looking gorgeous. All thirteen of us then piled into the combi and headed off to Plett to tear the town apart.
We started off at the Lookout on the beach for some lunch and a quiet beer followed by a noisy 14. As the noise levels escalated as we made up for lost beer time, Theresa hauled the management over the coals for cruelty to crayfish, Mary confessed to owning a vibrator which came as rather a surprise to her husband of twenty years, David declared his everlasting love to Carol, who he’d only just met on this hike and my dad started a rousing hiking song with brilliant lyrics ..... "Super C, Super C, Super C for energy. Up the hill, down the hill, up the hill etc. etc.". The management were very happy to see us leave as we continued our inspiring song into the carpark.
Next stop was Flashbacks where we played some pool, however after a few rounds of tequilla no one knew who was playing who or with who or whether they were stripes or solids. So everyone started giving everyone else body shots. And then things got out of hand. Luckily for Theresa, a sweet, young 21 year old from Bloemfontein carried her to Cranzgots for supper. The rest of us had to weave our way over there. I was by then incapable of reading the menu, but it didn’t matter anyway because I managed to turn my pizza upside down on the table when I took it from the waiter and when I flipped it back again it could have been anything. As long as it wasn’t a granola bar and dried banana pizza, I was happy.
It was pitch dark back at the camp and no-one had torches so we wandered around in the forest for what seemed like hours (luckily we were SO fit), with my dad intermittently bumping into trees and causing a domino effect behind him because we were all following very closely. We eventually found our way to the chalet when we spotted the immobiliser light flashing in my dad’s bakkie. Kevin insisted on sleeping in the bakkie with all the wet rucksacks and smelly shoes and socks. My first night on a soft, comfortable bed and I could have been sleeping on a bush pigs back and wouldn’t have known the difference.
But I do know that I will be back, even if its just for the after party. I have some vague memory of committing ourselves to the Otter Trail next year and I can't wait. This trail was one of the best experiences of my life, although if I look back on Day 1, I can't quite work out how I reached this conclusion ..... and I lost the bet I made on day 2, the "Never Again" one!
