Sunday, October 27
Goedverwacht to Sterkfontein
No Walking
Rainy and Windy
I awoke, well rested and cozy, to the sound of rain covering the house in waves accompanied by a strong wind. I slipped out into the kitchen to make my coffee and took it back to bed to journal. Now three weeks into the walk, my morning journaling was much deeper and more reflective. The Facebook urge wasn’t gone, but neither was it primary. Something about this morning, the comfort of being warm and dry in the midst of a storm, brought some new clarity.
From the morning’s journal: “Without the buffer of the missing two, Clare’s dislike of me is harder to ignore. It seems as though they’ve decided things about me and filter all I do and say through that. I woke up remembering this quote, ‘Be strong (brave?) enough to let others be wrong about you.’ I don’t have to, most likely can’t, change her mind. I can continue to be friendly and curious. Clare is familiar to me – could be me if I hadn’t done all my work with Pat.
A. is another story. She says she’s coming back Monday night. I really don’t like her and really struggle with the three feeling sorry for her. I’m grateful that Cynthia has shared her own discomfort. Cynthia who is unfailingly polite and kind to everyone. I can only appreciate this time without A. and pray that I have the strength (courage?) to be present for whatever happens next.
I got a small insight yesterday sitting in George’s car waiting for the others. After all the time in my room, and the long wait for 5:00 and the walk up the Slave Graveyard, and George insisting on driving so I didn’t even get to walk and then sitting in his car at the other end waiting for everyone to walk up, I got that I needed to be present in that, too. To accept the slow. Yesterday was all about slow – the walk, the afternoon, the waiting, and even then the stroll to the graveyard. It as unbelievably hard. So I breathed and calmed, got curious.”
I knew this would be another day all about slow. There would be no walking at all. We had done all of today’s activities yesterday, and the heavy rain meant not even recreational walking once we arrived at our new place. This was the first pilgrimage day of all my walks that was a true rest day. One I didn’t need or want. But I leaned into the curiosity and my commitment to acceptance, and stepped into the day.
The morning was relaxing and really pleasant. It was just the four of us, and Carol had relaxed quite a bit, so we all chatted easily during a wonderful sit-down breakfast. George was in full story-telling mode. He and Carol used to be serious hikers and outdoor people. He talked about annual camping trips to Fish River Canyon in a way that made me want to be there. It was hard to reconcile the fit and eager hikers he was describing with the softened edges of the two older people sharing the story. It reminded me that every older person was a younger person once who lived in a much different body. It’s so easy to see an older person (myself included) and assume they’ve always looked that way and had those limitations.
Even though Cynthia and I would have been happy to stay in their warm and comfortable home much longer, George wanted to get going. He was going to drive us first, and then come back and get the others, so had a good reason to end the party. Although our itinerary said we were going to a farm called Sterkfontein, George insisted we were staying at Kapteinskloof instead. That was exciting news to me.
Two years before, we’d stayed with Melanie at Kapteinskloof. It is an absolutely magical place, a haven and sanctuary that heals just by being there. We had been honored guests, with every need and want accommodated cheerfully. Melanie and I had made a strong connection, and she was one of the people I most wanted to see on this second trip. I had been disappointed to see Sterkfontein on the final itinerary. Kapteinskloof had been on the original one I received.
We rode in comfortable silence as George drove through sheets of rain that made it hard to see the road. I recognized the blueberry fields we drove through just before the entrance to Kapteinskloof. The stunning green of the yard contrasting with the fairy tale houses and the bright flowers made me feel as though I’d come home. No one came out to greet us, so Cynthia got out of the car and went in search of help.
When she came back with Melanie a few minutes later, the gray morning brightened considerably. We hugged and laughed, but then Melanie explained she was confused to see us because we were not in fact staying there. However, she was determined we’d have a good catch-up visit and invited us for coffee, promising to deliver us to Sterkfontein, which we’d driven by to get to Kapteinskloof, afterwards. Cynthia and I were thrilled, and George was happy to leave us there and to head back and collect the others.
Melanie led us into one of the guest rooms and brought coffee and cheesecake. We had the kind of visit old friends experience who have been away from each other for a long time, but feel like no time has passed. One of the things I love about Melanie is how honest and open she is about herself and her life, so talking with her means something. Finally, the coffee was done, the cheesecake was nothing but crumbs on the plates, and Melanie had work to do. We all three reluctantly got in her car and were very quickly driving up to an older much less appealing building where we were meant to spend the rest of that day and the night.
Izaak, a colored farm worker who would be our chaperone the next day, greeted us and showed us the space. His English was good, and I knew from Melanie that our host, Wickus, did not speak English, so I was grateful for Izaak.
The other three were already there, set up in the main part of the house with the living room and the kitchen. Whatever the space had been before, it was now the repository for the family’s castoffs. The art was strange and without anything tying it together. The furniture was threadbare. The kitchen was furnished more in camping style than home style. Cynthia and I were in a room across a covered breezeway from the main house. It was comfortable and roomy, despite clearly being used for storing old appliances and furniture. We each had our own room, but I had to go through Cynthia’s to get to the front door. The entire place was tired and barely clean, but warm and dry and perfectly fine.
We discovered fairly quickly our shower didn’t work. Someone came to try to fix it. They were unsuccessful and told us we’d have to use the shower next door. Since we hadn’t walked that day, and I didn’t want to haul my stuff outside and across the breezeway space and deal with intruding on the space of the friends, I decided to skip the shower for the day. We got settled and then went next door for food. A snack tray had been delivered.
The five of us sat in the living room enjoying the treats and the coziness, and even each other’s company. We agreed that while none of us would have chosen this day off, it was nice to be still and give our feet time to breathe and rest. Cynthia headed back to our space to work. She’d been really happy to have an entire day to catch up with her whistleblower commitments, both for the pilgrimage and for her actual job. Clare suggested a game of Skip-Bo, and invited me to join.
If there had been any other viable option beyond sitting alone in my room all day, I might have said no. It was raining too hard to go exploring. Even when the rain let up, the mud and wind made being outside unappealing. Cynthia was unavailable. So, I agreed. As the four of us sat around the kitchen table, playing round after round, I found myself relaxing and having a lot of fun. Anna-marie had found a radio and turned it to a station that played American oldies. I had found ice, and Coke, so enjoyed that while we played. Clare had her always present metal cup in which I assumed she had poured whiskey. Anna-marie had a beer. I never seemed to know what Wendy was drinking, except that it wasn’t alcohol.
Clare, clearly in charge, was a cutthroat player, and was gleeful every time she won. She did allow me a couple of re-dos as I was very rusty at the game. We played for hours, the day sliding away pleasantly. Cynthia came over and joined for a round. Eventually we needed to get up and move around. Cynthia went back to work. Wendy and Anna-marie went to look for a signal to make phone calls. Clare and I ended up in the living room having a nice long visit. We talked about travel, choosing ourselves, making changes in later life, and her boyfriend. This was the Clare who might have been my friend.
Wickus and his young daughter came over a little after 6:00 with our dinner. He set a beautifully crusted chicken pie on the table along with a very small plate of beef strips. That was it. No salad or anything green. No bread. No dessert. (I donated the one remaining chocolate bar from my stash for dessert.) The main dish was very good, and substantial, so we weren’t hungry. Just confused. He told us tomorrow’s lunch was in the fridge. All we found were six slices of bread, some old looking fake cheese, some mystery lunch meat, and bananas. There was no separate breakfast as we’d grown accustomed to. We found ourselves wishing we’d saved something from the snack tray we devoured earlier in the day. It was going to be a hungry walk tomorrow.
After dinner the five of us sat around the table chatting easily. The subject of Cape Camino was central. Cynthia talked about her own company and their commitment to uplifting, a word that at the time was included in Cape Camino’s literature. Our experience of the last couple of days made us wonder about the seriousness of their commitment to that concept. Clare, of course, was at the far end of the “they are failing” spectrum. I was farther along toward the “they have a vision” end. Still, my discomfort with the differences I was seeing between two years ago and this time was slowing growing.
I went to bed feeling rested and content with the day. The rain and wind continued their concert outside, and they were accompanied by some critter scratching in the walls of my room. I was warm and dry and satisfied, full in all the best ways. I’d had a sweet and uplifting text from Shawn earlier when the signal pulsed strong enough to grab messages (standing outside, pointed in a specific direction). The anticipation of his impending visit added to my happiness as I slid into sleep.
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