Friday, November 8
St. Helena Bay to Paternoster
20k/12mi
Mostly Sunny, Breezy, Comfortable
Maggie was politely anxious to have us gone because she had a planned trip that she needed to leave for by 9:00. Trudy was joining her for this trip, but I didn’t learn that until later, and so was surprised when she didn’t join us. One of our two chaperones, Valerie, arrived and after the usual pics, we set out.
Ina and I walked together for a long time, and enjoyed continuing our conversations from the day before. The relief of finally having someone to share the stories of this pilgrimage with was huge, leaving me almost giddy with the lightness of it. That Ina knew Cape Camino, and we’d shared the previous pilgrimage made it even more powerful. I thought that Cynthia was likely having a similar experience with Nicole.
The group was all within sight of one another as we approached the park from which we accessed the beach from the neighborhood. There we met our second chaperone, whose name I never did learn, and another walker who was joining us just for the day. I was deeply and simply happy to be on the beach with dunes on one side, sea on the other, and Ina and Frikkie next to me. It felt like home.
It turned out to be a hard walking day. The tide, which we expected to be going out for most of the morning, seemed to be coming in instead. That meant a lot of slanted soft sand. I was grateful my blister was done, and had been careful to be generous with my Vaseline routine in the morning. There were some long stretches of easier walking, paths that were friendlier, which made the day less difficult than it might have been.
The beach was gorgeous and the ocean a comforting presence with its white noise roar and cooling breezes. We saw a baby seal, and many bok. We stopped for breaks more often than usual. Twice we nested into rocks at the edge of the sea, sheltered and enjoying our snacks facing water and sky. One stop was at Charlie Chaplin’s house. It’s a sweet little cottage sitting alone at the edge of the sea, a place we were told he visited. One of those times Ina and Frikkie shared their coffee with me, a reprise of our time walking together two years ago. That simple act brought our mutual friend Jane to mind and tears to my eyes.
Another stop was at a beach where Valerie wanted to swim. She had been encouraging us to join in her swim the entire walk to that point, but had no takers. None of us wanted to be wet and salty and sandy for the miles we had ahead of us. None of us were thrilled to be standing on the beach watching her swim. We were even less thrilled when we were told we couldn’t go ahead because the other chaperone didn’t know where we’d be turning off the beach just ahead.
This was one of the very rare legs where the chaperones made the walk harder. They didn’t communicate with each other, or coordinate the route. Valerie seemed mostly interested in bossing us around, or being smug when our choices left us in more difficult circumstances, even though she hadn’t offered guidance when we needed it. One time she and I were walking parallel to each other. I walked forward, missing the turn she took, but she waited until I’d moved quite a way farther down the beach to call to me. Another time the entire group of us was above the beach searching for a trail through the dunes. I looked down to see her walking on a flat stretch of beach, watching us struggle, shaking her head at our folly. The other chaperone was nice enough, but mostly on her phone trying to find out what to do from Valerie or making plans for after the walk.
One long stretch of beach revealed a group of young men, some clearly children, at the shore line. At first glance they seemed to be playing, but the more we watched, the clearer it became they were working. Someone in our group said they were likely poaching mussels. So many questions were raised: Why weren’t they in school? Who were they working for? How worried would they be that we were watching them? They seemed to take no notice of us at all, and we finally moved on, a little rattled and saddened by what we’d just witnessed.
When we finally found ourselves on the stretch of beach leading to the town, I spotted the red roof of a café that had been an oasis stop two years before. We’d all gathered at a table and had drinks and snacks and even met a woman who had walked pilgrimage in other places. I was looking forward to a cool drink and carrot cake, but the group was tired and only wanted to get to our hotel. I sort of got it, as we were so close, but also didn’t understand the hurry.
The hotel was older and in need of an upgrade, but comfortable enough. Its claim to fame was the Panty Bar next door, where the ceiling was festooned with hundreds of pairs of “donated” panties. Because they’d been expecting 8 people, I got to have a room to myself. A. and I would have been rooming together if she were still walking with us. I was very grateful for the space and the solitude.
After showers, Cynthia, Nicole, and I wandered through town. Clare and Anna-marie had gone earlier. Ina and Frikkie were resting. We found the harbor with a beautiful little shopping center that I remembered from before. We stopped in a couple of shops, then sat outside at a cat themed restaurant and enjoyed drinks and snacks. On our way back out of the shopping center we passed a gelato stand. Nicole bought us cones. We chatted happily with the young woman serving us in her brightly colored clothes and bright presence.
Once back at the hotel, we saw Clare and Anna-marie sitting in the lobby, which consisted of a lumpy sunken-in couch and two chairs. They told us how to access Wi-Fi, where to get our passports stamped, and that dinner would be served in the dining room at 6:00. Our menu was chicken strips and chips (fries), and our packed lunches would be brought to us then as well. It was a friendly jokey encounter, and I was aware how much easier those two were with A. gone.
I went to my room, got my legs up the wall and rested and read for a while. Then I went in search of Ina and Frikkie. We chatted then headed to the restaurant for dinner. It was decided we’d eat inside because the wind had turned cold. We were shown to a separate room where tables were pulled together for us. Everyone else slowly trickled in, and we ordered drinks. I had not brought money with me, thinking everything was covered. The drinks were not covered, but Frikkie paid for my diet Coke, which was really sweet.
Our meals took a really long time to come, and when they did finally arrive, Clare demanded to know where our salads were. She insisted salad had been promised and she wanted it to be served. The server, and then a manager person, said they didn’t know anything about a salad, and eventually Clare begrudgingly let go of it. So much for easier.
The food was surprisingly good, a kid’s meal that satisfied. We even got ice cream with chocolate sauce for pudding. When they delivered our packed meals at the end, we were all thrilled at the bounty of them: toasties, peeled hard-boiled eggs, yogurt, juice, candy bars and apples.
During the wait for our dinner to be served, we talked about our last day’s walk. When I walked two years before, our route had taken us through an industrial area that was safe but ugly and not pleasant walking. Cape Camino’s solution was for pilgrims to take a short boat ride across the bay to a resort called Mykonos and then walk from there into Langebaan, the final stop of that leg.
I had eagerly anticipated the boat ride from the planning stages of the pilgrimage. We were expected to make arrangements on our own with the boatman, Gerrit, and it seemed reasonable that we’d do that as a group. It also made sense to me that either Ina or Clare or Anna-marie be the people to make contact because they spoke Afrikaans, Gerrit’s primary language. Anna-marie messaged him and he called her right back. We got the cost (R350/person), and learned he could only take 5 people at a time. It was a 20-minute trip, so two trips weren’t a big deal, or he might have access to a second boat. Also, the wind might be a problem, in which case we’d all need to be shuttled to Mykonos.
Anna-marie said she and Clare might shuttle regardless, neither of them eager to take the boat. The rest of us were excited about the boat. I was grateful that I wasn’t alone in my desire for the boat, because I wasn’t willing to challenge Clare on my own. She kept wanting to know why we couldn’t walk, what was wrong with the route, who cared if it wasn’t pretty. She added that to her very long list of grievances against Cape Camino. Anna-marie messaged Gerrit again and told him at least 5 of us would want his services on Monday morning.
When I settled into bed that night, luxuriating in the space and quiet, enjoying a last cup of rooibos, I thought about the fact that there were only four walking days left, and five until I was headed home. I was both reluctant to lose the pilgrim rhythms and freedom, and so ready to have this particular pilgrimage behind me. I wasn’t sure I’d learned what I came to learn, or if any transformation at all had happened. I wasn’t as excited to get back on Facebook as I thought I’d be, but was looking forward to reconnecting with all the people I’d been away from the last long month.
I didn’t expect anything huge to be revealed in the next few days, but was determined to be as fully in them as I could manage. I’ll admit there was a small part of me that still hoped for some big magic that might make sense of how hard I’d found the whole walk. A big ta-da. A ray of light from the heavens moment. I breathed gratitude for Ina and Frikkie, for Cynthia and Nicole, for my strong body. I prayed I’d find the lessons in my time with, and forgiveness for, Clare and Anna-marie and A.
I curled around Hafiz’ words in the dark of my 33rd room in a row, and let sleep come.
“You are an exquisite temple for a magnificent being who yearns to be known, loved, charted. Explore the vastness of your soul’s dimension. Treasure awaits.”
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