Day 30 - Schaftplaas

Tuesday, November 5

Laaiplek to Schaftplaas

Boat Ride + 21k/13mi

Windy, Sunny

 

 

When I first woke up, I didn’t know where or when I was. I lay still in the cocoon of my bed until the answers drifted through. I was in Ammie and Debbie’s friends’ house. Today was my birthday. 

 

I love birthdays. Always have. Mine for sure, but only slightly more than the birthdays of the people I love. This one had already exceeded my expectations, Arni’s gifts of time and cake and awareness, and Cynthia’s more than thoughtful gifts, making it an especially special day. This day would turn out to be a complicated one, and in hindsight I can see it as the perfect metaphor for life in later years. So many joys, but always shadowed by loss and sadness. With the unexpected, whether coming from inside or out, making equilibrium an always moving target. 

 

 

Today was also Cracklin’ Rosie day. The boat would take us up the Berg River through some of the most beautiful estuary land anywhere, and drop us off at a dock, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, where we would begin our walk for the day. I loved that this was happening on my birthday, remembering, from two years before, the peace and joy of a couple of hours on the water surrounded by birds and blue sky and feeling the wind dance around us.  

 

I made my way into the living room, hoping to find coffee, but found Debbie sitting in the dark instead. She mentioned we’d be leaving in just a few minutes and apologized that we wouldn’t get the catching-up conversation I’d been looking forward to. I was disappointed. I had hoped to hear Debbie’s stories as a hospice nurse and to glean wisdom about facing death, but this was one more message from the Camino that my lesson on this walk was more immediate than that. 

 

Ammie joined us before I’d even had a chance to sit back, and we returned to their house in the dark. We had to be at the boat dock by 6:00, so there was little time to linger. Debbie asked us to leave our Camino passports with her as they hadn’t been signed the night before. She would bring them when she delivered our luggage at the end of the walk that day. I did have time for a coffee and a quick bite, and to get my pack sorted for the day.  I got birthday greetings and hugs from everyone but A. Clare’s and Anna-marie’s surprised me in their warmth and seeming sincerity. 

 

We managed to leave the house on time, despite discovering the blue booze backpack soaked and leaking on the garage floor next to our luggage, the smell of alcohol sharp in the air. It had apparently gotten knocked over hard enough to break something inside. We were all grateful the puddle hadn’t reached the other bags. Since we were all going – Debbie to bring the car back, Ammie to be our chaperone – the mess was left for her to deal with when she got back.

 

We were packed tightly into the car, but our anticipation of the boat ride ahead created a happy energy. Anna-marie and I sat together in the tiny way-back of the car, tickled that we could contort ourselves into the space. We arrived at the dock quickly, the sun just beginning to light the horizon. As we were getting out of the car and getting ready to board, Debbie discovered our food for the day had been left back at the house. 

 

 

Ammie talked to the captain, who was pretty chill about the delay. Debbie sped away while we settled ourselves onto the boat. We stayed clumped together at the back of the boat because she wanted to get a group picture before we left. The half hour wait passed fairly quickly. I spent the time enjoying the company of the small terrier who took his hosting duties seriously. 

 

During the wait we met our fellow passengers. There was the captain, Nico,  

and his wife, Wendy, and a young man who worked as crew. There were sisters, one of which was a wildlife photographer/tour operator, and the other an archaeologist. There was a young man who said he was on the boat looking for a way to create day trips for tourists. There was also a couple at the front of the boat that I didn’t meet as they stayed up there and I stayed in the back. 

 

 

When Debbie finally got back, she handed over the food, and took our picture from the shore. As she was waving us off, Wendy came out of the cabin with shots of whiskey to celebrate “the birthday girl.” Wendy thought it was Debbie’s birthday, missing that there was a second Deb in the party, and meant for us to raise our glasses to her before the boat got too far upriver. Ammie cleared up the confusion, and the glasses were redirected toward me as everyone sang Happy Birthday. 

 

Cynthia and I, after the toast, handed our full glasses to Clare and A.

 

 

I settled into a spot at the back of the boat, and while people moved around me, it felt like I was alone. For a long while all of the people in my party were in the pilot house or up front. I considered getting up and joining, but the solitude was too delicious to pass up. It was me, the water zooming past, the little terrier in my lap. The air was fresh, but not cold. The sky brightening gradually, losing its pink slowly. 

 

There were birds everywhere, and that’s where I focused. Wendy would occasionally name them as we slipped by. Many I knew from before. I didn’t even try to photograph them. Between our movement and their distance, I knew the pictures would be blurry, so I opted to be fully present and to set them in my soul with my eyes. 

 

Coots. Cape Cormorants. Gray Herons. African Darters. Pelicans. Flamingos. Egrets. Several kinds of Gulls. At least two kinds of Terns. A couple of different Kingfishers, my favorite a glimpse of a Malachite Kingfisher clinging to a long grass stem, looking for all the world like a National Geographic photo. 

 

 

Ammie came back a couple of times to check on me, and to bring food. First one of Arni’s birthday cupcakes, and later one of the egg bites Debbie had prepared for our walk. Wendy came back with coffee. Cynthia wandered back and sat with the archaeologist sister and I eavesdropped on their conversation. Cynthia pulled me into it, and time passed pleasantly as we got to know each other. The little dog came and went, his warm weight on my lap a comfort, his antics a delight to watch. The other three stayed in the cabin for most of the ride. 

 

 

All too soon we pulled over at a small rickety dock that was Cracklin’ Rosie’s turnaround point. We got off, waved the boat off, took pictures, and turned toward land and the rest of our day. The first order of business was finding bushes for peeing, and once that was accomplished, we followed Ammie up the road. The walk was mostly farm roads and mostly pleasant. Cynthia and I visited for a long time, both aware that we only had one more day where it would just be the two of us.  There were a couple of stops in the shade of trees for rest and snacks. 

 

Food was sparse. The food Debbie had gone back to get was shared with everyone on the boat, so there was nothing left for us to take on the walk. We all had snacks to fall back on, but a naartjie and an energy bar, on top of the hurried and sparse breakfast, were not enough to sufficiently fuel a 20k walk. Still, none of us complained, beyond observing the absence of a packed meal. 

 

 

We stopped at a farm house to use the bathroom and were greeted warmly by the family there. Our walk took us through two places that were unpopulated, one seemed abandoned and the other simply waiting to be occupied. We went to the back of the unpopulated house looking for (and finding) water. The day had grown hot and there was no shade, so we were going through our water quickly. 

 

 

 

I had noticed that the little toe on my right foot was stinging, so I took my shoes off while we rested against the side of the house. After pouring a ton of sand out of my shoes (some of the farm roads were deep sand), and pulling my socks off, I discovered a blister. It wasn’t just a red spot or a maybe blister, but a big bubble on the side of my toe. I decided I’d deal with it when we arrived, and gingerly slipped my socks and shoes back on. I also decided to not give it any emotional energy. It was a blister, not a commentary on my ability to be a pilgrim. That felt a little like progress.

 

 

Shortly after we passed the abandoned place, there was a fork in the road. Ammie led us a short way down one path, but stopped us and called the farmer to confirm our direction. He also asked the farmer to come get A., who had decided she couldn’t walk any further. It turned out it was good he called, because we were on the wrong path. We turned around and found the other path, and waited there for a bit while Ammie took A. back to the abandoned place to wait for her ride. 

 

 

The last stretch was a slog. We were all tired, and hungry, and hot. My blistered toe complained with every step, not big pain, but annoying burning. I tried to avoid it by shifting my gait, which helped a little, but also made me more tired. 

 

 

When we finally saw the gates of Schaftplaas, the horse farm that was our stop for the day, we all got a last burst of energy. I knew that cute cabins awaited us, and comfortable front porches, and horses to visit. There was no one to let us through the locked gates. Ammie didn’t have the code, and called someone. Eventually one of the colored workers let us in and we made our way past a large event center, and a paddock, to the cabins.

 

There we found A. lounging in a chair on one of the porches. She announced to the group that she had done us all a favor by upgrading her lodging so she would be in a cabin while the rest of us would be in the stables. Confusion followed. I was tired enough that I couldn’t really focus on, or understand, what was happening, beyond the fact that Clare took control. This was a time I was grateful for her. Eventually another colored worker came and told us we were to stay in a newly converted stable back by the gate we’d come through. She led us back the way we’d come, around the event center and down a dirt road. 

 

There we found the stable, converted, but just barely. There were bunk beds, but nothing for making tea. There were no chairs or tables, and there was nothing comfortable for sitting outside. The inside of the building was dark and airless, with no wifi. And worst of all, the bathroom was in a separate building so far away it made the situation at Fork West seem luxurious. 

 

Of course, Clare was the first to say no, but the rest of us were quick to echo her. The worker told us she had been told we could pay extra to upgrade to the cabins. She said that Cape Camino had approved the change, which seemed to confirm what had felt true the entire walk. They were doing whatever they could to save money, regardless of what that meant for pilgrims who were trusting them to provide reasonable accommodations. 

 

The worker led us back to the cabins. We decided together that we were going to stay in the cabins and let Cape Camino sort things out later. We also agreed that none of us were going to pay a penny extra for our stay. This time the appearance of the row of attached cabins with low walls separating the porches felt like an oasis. 

 

The doors were locked, and it appeared the host had been told of our decision because A. was upset that she’d been moved from her original place so we would all be together. When the host finally appeared, she apologized, although none of us were sure what she was apologizing for. She unlocked the doors of the three adjacent cabins that would be ours. 

 

The first cabin was the largest, with two beds downstairs. Clare and Anna-marie claimed it quickly. The second cabin was smaller, with one bed downstairs and one bed up a very steep staircase. And the third cabin was a single. 

 

 

Clare and Anna-marie were in their cabin exploring. Ammie, who had been with us the whole time as he waited for Debbie to come get him (and to bring our luggage and passports), sat in a chair on the porch of the middle room. Cynthia and I stood in the yard in front of the cabins, unsettled, exhausted, and unsure what to do next. A. walked by us, having claimed the single room, and told us that we were to take the remaining double room. 

 

I snapped. I turned and faced her and told her firmly and angrily that she did not get to tell Cynthia and me where we slept. She responded just as firmly and angrily, asking if one of us wanted to sleep with her, answering her own question before I could think of a reply. She turned and walked away. We were aware of Ammie sitting quietly, absorbing it all, and Cynthia and I apologized to him, sorry he had to witness the drama. 

 

We went into our cabin to figure out our sleeping situation. Cynthia offered to take the upstairs, to risk the very steep staircase, so I wouldn’t have to deal with it in the night. We couldn’t shower because our luggage hadn’t arrived, so we made tea, found rusks, and went to sit on the porch. I didn’t know where A. was at this point, I assumed with the other two. Shortly after, Anna-marie came over to ask if we’d gotten things sorted, probably to get our side of the story A. had told them. 

 

Cynthia then had her turn at snapping. She was visibly upset and on the verge of tears as she told Anna-marie how very not sorted she was. She talked about being ignored by them the entire walk, about how hard she’d tried to connect with everyone including A., about the unfairness of A. always getting in first and getting first choice of rooms. I listened, proud of my friend, and sad I hadn’t known the depth of her own pain as we’d walked together the last weeks. Anna-marie, who always wanted to smooth things over, seemed shaken by Cynthia’s revelations. 

 

When she left us drinking our tea with Ammie on our porch, Anna-marie apparently found A. and told her she couldn’t keep claiming the best room for herself. I don’t know what else was said, but A. got upset and went down to the converted stable we’d just decided we couldn’t stay in. 

 

Debbie finally arrived with our luggage. I don’t know how much she knew of what had happened that afternoon (Ammie had been on the phone with her off and on the whole time), but there was a coolness to her greeting of us. There were still hugs, but I felt a shift.

 

Included in the luggage was the freshly washed and dried blue backpack, full of booze. I heard Debbie apologize to Clare for the broken bottle and tell her she’d replaced it. On top of everything else she had to think about and do that day, she bought alcohol for those women.

 

She and Ammie said goodbye to the four of us, and took A.’s suitcase down to the stable. Ammie came back a short time later. He’d forgotten his pack on our porch. I asked if A. was okay. He said she wasn’t, but that he’d told her to think about things before she acted. Like she was thinking of leaving. 

 

 

After showers and laundry and settling, Cynthia and I sat on our side of the short wall separating the cabins, and Clare and Anna-marie sat on their side of the wall.  We talked for a long time about the A. situation, about Cape Camino’s part in the afternoon, about how we were feeling. A couple of horses wandered by, providing comic relief, especially as one came up behind Anna-marie and nearly knocked her over in greeting. It was by far the best and most connected conversation we’d had then entire walk.

 

Clare went down to check on A. and to ask her to come up to have dinner with us. A. refused, but later sent the worker who had helped us earlier up to get her wine and take it back down to her. 

 

Cynthia and I had decided we were staying put in our little two-bed cabin. The single was A.’s regardless of the situation. I did go over and take the rusks from the kitchenette for the morning because we’d eaten all the ones in the other cabins.

 

Sometime during the settling in process, we discovered our pilgrim passports were missing. I messaged Ammie, and learned Debbie had left them at their house in her rush to clean up the alcohol, get our luggage loaded, and get herself to work. She said she’d bring them to Schaftplaas the next day to get them stamped, and then take them to Hopefield, our next stop, and give them to us there. That seemed pretty complicated, especially since she was working on top of hosting, so we agreed she should bring them whenever it worked best for her. We would figure something out without them, and by that time the passports didn’t matter as much as they had in the beginning. Plus Clare had chosen not to get hers stamped at all the entire walk. 

 

When I messaged that information to Debbie, she didn’t respond. Neither did she respond when I thanked her for the sweet little book she’d made for me for my birthday. That on top of her slight coolness before, made me a little concerned about what she thought she knew about our situation with A. And I knew that A. would have laid on the victim aspect of her experience as thickly as she could manage.

 

Dinner finally arrived at 6:00, carried to us on a tray by a white woman we hadn’t met yet. We ate together at the table on Clare and Anna-marie’s porch. The roasted chicken, roasted potatoes, rice, pumpkin, and gravy were not hot, but we didn’t care. The food was delicious and nothing was left at the end. We felt bad that A. wasn’t eating, but were also glad to have her portion. I pulled out the KitKat bars I’d bought shopping with Ammie the day before for pudding.

 

 

Once back in our cabin, Cynthia and I both messaged Gabrielle. Cynthia told her exactly what had happened not only that day, but throughout the entire walk with A. She never did receive a response to that message. I reached out to ask if Gabrielle, who lives in Hopefield, would be able to meet with us when we were there the next day. Visiting her in her home two years previously had been a highlight. I made sure the message was light and friendly. Despite everything, I liked her a lot, admired her spirit and was in awe of her power and passion. That is still very much true. 

 

Gabrielle knew we were coming, and I’d been a little surprised she didn’t reach out first. She did respond to my message quickly, informing me she was headed to Cape Town on business the next day, but that she might delay her departure to see me. She said she wanted to meet Cynthia as well. She did not mention Clare or Anna-marie, but did confirm that A. had quit the Camino.

 

When we finally settled into our beds for the night, I remembered it was still my birthday. In the drama of the day, that had seemed far away and not important. I reveled in the messages awaiting me, from Walt and my brothers and friends from home and friends from the Camino. I had decided not to go on Facebook to check birthday greetings there, choosing to wait until I got to the end of the pilgrimage to return to social media. It was a surprisingly easy decision. One of the messages was from Arni, who confirmed that the hosts had been notified that A. was leaving the Camino. And so I received, although at no small cost, perhaps the best birthday gift I could have hoped for: the last week of my pilgrimage free of A.’s drama.