Day 28 - Dwarskersbos

Sunday, November 3

Bo Huis to Dwarskersbos

22k/13.7mi

Partly Cloudy to Mostly Sunny, Comfortable

 

 

I started the day standing outside alone watching the sunrise. The air was a brisk refreshment filled with birdsong and growing light as the sun climbed over the distant hills. I didn’t take pictures or ponder the day ahead (or even the day behind). I absorbed with intention, claiming those minutes to myself, breathing in the beauty and the solitude. I claimed wonder and awe that I, a farm girl from Idaho, an old woman now, could be there in Africa with nearly a month of walking its paths behind me. 

 

 

Arni drove us to the railroad tracks, telling us we’d know our destination in Dwarskersbos when we saw our host Melodey waiting for us. A. stayed behind to wait for Arni to drive her to a spot on the beach just 10k before the town. This would be our third day of beach walking, and by then my concern about the sand was long gone. However hard this walk had been two years ago, my body seemed more than up to the task this time. 

 

We walked in two pairs, leap-frogging each other throughout the day. We did not walk together at all, and it felt like an unspoken race from the moment we said goodbye to Arni. We saw a few seals, some terns and plovers and gulls, but mostly a forever of beach and sand and dunes. 

 

Cynthia and I had been beachcombing since Elands Bay, and part of our walk involved searching the sand for treasures of rock and shell. She sought flat dark squarish stones for a remembrance she would create for her whistleblowers at the end of the walk. I sought agates that I meant to take home to Walt to polish, and had to eventually stop looking because there were so many. At one point I reached down and picked up a conglomerate of shell and stone in the shape of a heart – a rich treasure. Cynthia was standing next to me and I gave it to her to give to her daughter, sad to let it go, but knowing it needed to be a gift of the heart from mother to daughter. 

 

Cynthia and I stopped to eat in the dunes at the 10k mark, far enough ahead of the other two, we enjoyed the entire coast to ourselves. They caught up more quickly than we expected, and before we could pack up and head out ahead of them, they walked past us. There were minimal greetings as they moved ahead. 

 

 

The village of Dwarskersbos appeared in the distance, all white houses looking like a mirage, for a long time seeming to pull farther away as we walked closer. Not long after our lunch stop, and not far behind the other two, we came across barefoot prints in the sand. Because we had the beach to ourselves, we figured it had to be A. That was confirmed a bit farther along when we saw arrows in the sand and a smiley face pointed towards the village. 

 

 

Clare and Anna-marie turned off the beach to eat their lunch at a picnic table in the dunes. Cynthia and I decided to try to catch A. and get to our hosts first for a change. The sand was hard and we were fit and determined, and the distance flew behind us. We met a couple with a dog coming toward us and asked if they’d seen a woman in pink at any point. They had seen A. and not too far back. Just on the outskirts of town, we saw her turn off into a parking lot.

 

When we got close enough to know it was A. for certain, we saw her waiting by a seawall. We assumed she was resting, or lost, and decided to move forward without letting her know we’d seen her. She did not look up at us, and we assumed (probably incorrectly) that she hadn’t seen us. 

 

We found ourselves on the other side of the village with no sign of Melodey when we realized something was off. I called her and learned we were supposed to turn off in the spot where we’d seen A. The entire walk back, Cynthia and I laughed at getting caught by our own childishness. The one time we tried to beat A. at her own game, we lost bigtime. 

 

 

 

Melodey was waiting for us, standing next to a tall pole on top of which was the Cape Camino sign. We’d missed that entirely in our urgency to slip past A. She greeted us with hugs and walked us up a street to her car, in which sat Clare and Anna-marie. A. was already at the house. First to arrive, and first to choose a room. 

 

When Melodey showed us the house and the bedrooms, she said she’d been told Cynthia and I were traveling together and so would room together. She was uncomfortable and a little brusque and I assumed A. had talked to Melodey and shaped her conversation in a way that would get her what she wanted. It worked. Melodey left us saying it was now up to us to decide who slept where, that she had done her part. 

 

Anna-marie ended up with the biggest room with an en suite bathroom. A. had a large room on the other side of the bathroom from ours. Clare had the entire loft area with beds and a separate seating area to herself. Cynthia and I shared a tiny room with two twin beds and not enough room for our bags to be open or for us to move around with both in the room.

 

I wasn’t upset. I was mostly amused, and a little in awe to have been so completely caught out. I was also finally done with trying to win a game I didn’t really care about beyond the unfairness of the outcomes. I saw my ego trying so hard to make winning important, mostly so they wouldn’t win – exactly the opposite of what I was seeking on this walk. I was also concerned that the hosts were being given an impression of me that wasn’t true and that went against what the pilgrimage meant to me. 

 

While waiting for the bathroom to free up so I could shower, I went out into the kitchen to chat with Melodey. I wanted to clear the weirdness I’d felt when we first arrived. She was so lovely to talk to. The condo was hers, and she lived in a separate part, so pilgrims got the main living space to themselves. She was unloading groceries and had bought an abundance of treats for us. She loved having pilgrims, meeting people from away, supporting the bravery of our endeavor. We chatted about malva pudding, my writing, my pilgrimage. She had read my writing from the first pilgrimage and said she loved my work. That made me so happy to hear. 

 

We did laundry in Melodey’s washer, which Anna-marie had said she’d hang outside for us all. However, the three wanted to go into the village to explore, so I offered to do it instead. I had considered going with them, always happy for the adventure of shops and new sights, but decided staying put was a better choice for that day.

 

In that way a most enjoyable and relaxing afternoon unfurled. When Melodey drove the three to town, Cynthia and I talked about our plan going awry and laughed at the knowledge that spiritually we were not being given any slack. We also came to the conclusion that if we’d arrived first as we plotted for, we still would have chosen the double room. Cynthia worked at a little table looking out over the sweet and very small garden. I snacked and enjoyed cool drinks from the honor bar and journaled and read and hung the clothes on the line. Happy. 

 

Melodey popped in from time to time to check on us. Anna-marie brought us chocolate from town, a thank you for the laundry. The other two ignored us completely. Dinner was served at the dining table in the middle of the space. We had the best lasagna of the three we’d been served so far on the walk. Melodey ate with us and the dinner conversation was the usual small talk along with Clare tearing apart Cape Camino and A. cutting in with her complaints. 

 

 

After dinner, and before dessert, Melodey offered to drive us to the beach to watch the sunset. Anna-marie, Cynthia and I took her up on the offer. The four of us stood watching the light change in the cold wind, all of us searching the sand at our feet for treasures. It was a lovely time, easy and relaxed, four women enjoying sacred space together. The sunset itself was quiet and subtle, but we were rewarded a few minutes later with flames of light extending across the sky.

 

 

Melodey joined Cynthia and me at the table for the malva pudding with custard poured over. The others ate their dessert sitting in the lounge just feet from us. Anna-marie joined us after the other two went upstairs, and the four of us sat for a long time as Melodey talked about her life and her dreams. 

 

 

The day was a good reminder to me why walking pilgrimage was so important to me, and why I loved Cape Camino so much. To spend time with a regular person who opened her home to pilgrims, to learn about her life, to experience her tremendous hospitality was a gift beyond measure. Just as with the farm wives, I found Melodey to be inspiring and someone I felt privileged to have met. And the lesson I’d received, the clear reminder that I still had a way to go in my own healing, while embarrassing, was also funny. Humbling rather than humiliating.

 

 

Hafiz’ words for the day seemed particularly apt: “Embody the love of curiosity and compassion, when everything in your world insists on smallness and predictability.”