Day 37 - The End

Tuesday, November 12

Saldanha Bay to Langebaan

10k/6mi -ish

Cool, Sunny, Windy

 

 

“Man plans. God laughs.”

 

The plan:

 

Clare Ubers to Cape Town. Anna-marie rides with our luggage to Langebaan. She arranges with Gerrit to take us in the boat across the harbor to Mykonos. The five of us walk from Mykonos to Langebaan, although there is no chaperone or map and I seem to be the only one concerned about that. The last day of walking for the pilgrimage only with people I love, and who love me back, is full of fun and easy. Once in Langebaan, I go with Hanli to Pumpkin House, Ina and Frikkie go to his brother’s, and the others spend one last night together at a guest house. Caroline comes to get me the next morning to take me to Cape Town for one last adventure and then the airport for my evening flight home. 

 

God laughing:

 

Gerrit canceled the boat ride because of the wind. He offered to transport us in his bakkie for a fee. Gabrielle told us we could use the company she hired to transport our luggage to transport us to Mykonos if we wanted. Clare and Anna-marie and Ina got mad because they thought she was telling us what to do at the last minute after expecting us to handle things ourselves. Anna-marie, who was the designated communication person, arranged to ride with the luggage. She did not plan to tell Gerrit the rest of us would ride with him until the luggage transport came.

 

The result of all of that was a lot of waiting and a lot of angry conversation about Gabrielle. And an angry conversation between me and Anna-marie. When I asked Anna-marie why she hadn’t told Gerrit we needed a ride at the beginning, since that was our plan all along, she didn’t have a good answer. I was already upset that all her communication on WhatsApp at that point was in Afrikaans. I got frustrated enough with her taking care of herself and leaving the rest of us to hang that I had to walk away from the conversation and go outside. 

 

Part of my frustration with Anna-marie was that she wasn’t really answering my questions. After I’d calmed down, and some time passed, I figured out she had told Gerrit the rest of us would ride with him earlier. She had not told him yet when to get us because she wanted to make sure the luggage transport happened first. By the time she got back to him, he’d already made other plans and so couldn’t come get us until later. If she’d been willing to trust, and let him come first, everyone could have been happy. 

 

As we waited for someone to come, Clare’s Uber or the luggage transport or Gerrit, I sat outside and forced myself to calm and breathe. Cynthia came out and asked if I was okay, but there was nothing she could do at that point. We did consider taking off and walking, but that would have meant way-finding, and ultimately taken even more time to figure out. She and Nicole hung out in their room while we waited. Ina and Frikkie hung out in theirs. When sitting got too hard, I wandered over to Ina and Frikkie, around the back yard, out to the front of the hotel. 

 

 

The luggage transport arrived first. Anna-marie came and said goodbye to us all, even though there was a chance she’d join us toward the end of the walk. When she approached me, she was smiling and a little tentative. We hugged and I released my anger, determined not to let that conflict ruin the day. We all waved her off as the car pulled away. 

 

Clare’s Uber arrived last. She stood and waved us off as Gerrit drove us away in his bakkie. Earlier that morning, in a moment of quiet when several of us were sitting in the lobby, I asked Clare if the pilgrimage had been what she was looking for. She said she wished there had been more sacred sites, like on the Camino de Santiago, to visit along the way. Her answer, offered with smiling sincerity, gobsmacked me. All that anger for all those days and miles, and she left wishing for more sacred space. 

 

In my feedback to Cape Camino two years previously, I had said something similar. I mentioned that the sacred spaces were over-promised on the website. Most of them happened on the Peninsula, which was at the end of that walk. And which wasn’t part of Clare’s walk. Cape Camino was not the ancient sacred space the Camino de Santiago was, and a couple of labyrinths, one convent, and a few Muslim shrines weren’t going to change that. What had changed for me on this walk was that I had found the sacred space inside myself. The outer manifestations of spirituality weren’t needed. Cape Camino was a perfect walk for deep inner reflection without the distraction of traditional constructs of sacredness. That would have been true even without this walk’s extreme difficulties that forced me to go much deeper than I even knew I could. Certainly much deeper than I would have chosen given the chance. 

 

 

The rest of us waited for more than half an hour until Gerrit came to fetch us. He was a lovely cheerful man who seemed truly happy to be driving us. He said the wind had turned out to be not quite as bad as he thought and that we might have been able to take the boat. None of us really needed to hear that. He talked nonstop for the entire ten-minute drive, most of which I couldn’t understand. Nicole and Ina sat in the back of his bakkie. Frikkie sat up front and Cynthia and I got the back seat. 

 

I can’t remember saying goodbye to Clare. I hope I did. I think I must have.

 

When Gerrit dropped us off at a restaurant in Mykonos, he hugged us all. For some reason, when he hugged me, he called me Blondie. We all wondered at that, where that came from and laughed. It was a nice way to end the craziness of the morning. 

 

The five of us stood in the parking lot, unsure which way to go. We knew we were to follow the coast line to Langebaan. Ina and Frikkie and I had done the walk two years ago, but with a chaperone then and starting from a different spot. They seemed confident that we could find our way on our own.

 

 

We started toward the beach and followed it until we were blocked by rocks. We climbed stairs into the main part of the resort and followed private walkways toward the next stretch of open beach. At one point we had to walk inland, into streets full of vacation homes and condos, moving in the direction of Langebaan, constantly running into dead ends. I struggled against frustration at Ina and Frikkie who had said they knew where we were going. When I challenged Ina at one point, she said she thought I would know since we had walked it together. 

 

 

We asked people in the neighborhoods we were walking through for help, and we eventually found our way back on the beach with a straight shot up the coastline to Langebaan. It was windy, and we were walking straight into it, so the walk was often cold and sand blasted. Still, it felt so good to be walking in the right direction without obstacle, the conditions hardly mattered. Parts of the route began to look familiar to Ina and Frikkie, but nothing rang a bell with me until we were close to Langebaan. There were stretches that were familiar to Cynthia and Nicole as well because they’d been on that part of the coast before. 

 

 

 

I worked hard to let go of my anger and frustration, and disappointment that the morning hadn’t turned out the way I’d hoped. I stayed intentionally cheerful, and walked off and on with everyone. During the stretches I walked alone, I made sure to keep everyone in sight. I loved these people and was grateful to end the pilgrimage in their company. 

 

 

When the beach led us to the far outskirts of Langebaan, sidewalks and businesses replacing dunes and waves, we spotted a coffee shop. We approached it like desert wanderers finding an oasis. The owner was warm and welcoming, friendly and open. The bathroom bright and clean. The coffee and cheesecake and carrot cake some of the best we’d had. We splurged on gelato, dessert to our dessert snack. We sat and talked and laughed, happy to have the finding-our-way part of the adventure behind us, but proud of ourselves for having found the way. 

 

I looked up in the middle of our snack to see the tiniest and fluffiest of puppies staggering out to greet us. He had escaped his enclosure. When the owner came out and saw us holding and cuddling him, she let him stay. A four-month-old silkie terrier, he apparently escaped often. He was definitely the cherry on top of the sweetest of rest stops. 

 

 

Someone said, “Isn’t that Anna-marie?’ And there she was across the street, looking for us.  We got her attention and she seemed really happy to see us again. The host of the guest house where she and Cynthia and Nicole were staying wasn’t quite ready for guests and had driven Anna-marie to the coffee shop. Cynthia had been communicating with her so she knew where we were.

 

 

Shortly after we left the coffee shop, we found ourselves back on the beach. The wind had picked up, so walking was an even bigger challenge. We all stopped and watched a seal zip around in the surf right off the beach. It was hard to tell if it was hunting or playing, but its fluidity of movement felt like dance and was mesmerizing. We turned a corner to see the ocean full of kiteboarders, all vivid colors and speed, the human version of ocean dancing we’d just witnessed with the seal. The beach itself was full of boards and sails and people in wetsuits and lessons being given. It was fun to watch the expertise – one instructor kept riding his board right up to the sand – and the freedom and the joy. I could have sat and watched forever.

 

 

After that stretch of beach, things started to look familiar. I recognized the restaurant where I had last seen Ina two years before. I recognized the poles in the water that Hanli and her friends swam from every morning. We turned into town from the beach and were glad for Anna-marie’s semi-familiarity with our route going forward.

 

Street walking is the hardest for me, and that last leg of our walk was a slog. We relied on Anna-marie’s directions and Nicole’s Google Maps. There was a lot of uphill and a lot of “I think it’s the next turn.” Because we’d started out so late, I was impatient to get to Pumpkin House and Hanli and the next chapter. I knew she was waiting for me, and had expected to arrive much sooner than we did. I was also reluctant to arrive because it meant saying goodbye. 

 

When we finally did arrive at the guest house where the others were staying, there was a flurry of activity. After the long morning of waiting and being lost and getting found, suddenly time sped up. I messaged Hanli, whose house was only a couple of blocks away. From my pack I pulled out the care package I’d started for Anna-marie to give to Faizel when she and N. started their Peninsula walk with him the next day. In addition to my Cape Camino shirts and extra snacks and paper and pens, I added my walking shoes. Even though I’d given him a new pair, I knew he’d find a home for this older pair. 

 

 

Hanli drove up, and I have a vague memory of saying goodbye to everyone, and of hugging everyone, but none of the partings felt enough. After all those days and miles together, nothing was ever going to feel like it was enough. With a final wave goodbye to the group, I followed Hanli to her car her in my stocking feet, feeling deep sadness and a soaring kind of joy at the same time. 

 

Two years before, Hanli was a host for Cape Camino. Her backpackers place, called Pumpkin House, was the last stay for the West Coast leg. She is a talented and inspired artist, her place an artist’s retreat as well as a backpackers. On that walk, Ina and Frikkie left me to go with his brother, as they did this time. I was alone with Hanli, and would be driven the next day to Cape Town to start the Peninsula leg of the walk. The leg I started with on this walk. 

 

That day with Hanli was one of the most impactful of the first pilgrimage. She spent the afternoon driving me through West Coast National Park and took such good care of me I didn’t have time to be sad about losing Ina and Frikkie. We made a strong connection over a love of travel, lives lived through extreme loss, and writer souls in common. We had been in touch a few times in the two years since, and when I knew I was coming a second time, I reached out to her. I knew she was no longer hosting, but was hoping she’d let me rent a room at Pumpkin House so we would have a chance to catch up with each other’s lives. She invited me to stay with her as her guest. The privilege of that, the kindness and generosity, was a gift that makes my heart swell even now. 

 

That my pilgrimage was bookended by the kindness of friends I’d made on the first walk felt like love and safety and affirmation.

 

Our conversation took off as though no time had passed. When we arrive at Pumpkin House a few minutes later, she showed me to my room, the same one I’d had before. She had planned the rest of the day. After a quick shower I met her in the courtyard and we headed out to a restaurant overlooking the ocean for lunch. It was a favorite of hers, a beautiful place with incredible views. It was quiet, so we felt like we were in a private club, and had unlimited time and space to visit. After a scenic drive back to her place she invited me into her house for tea. 

 

She told me she had an art class in her studio that afternoon, and that I was free to do whatever I wanted during that time. As we were chatting, we were startled by a knock on her door. It was Caroline. 

 

It took me a beat to realize that she was really standing there, that afternoon, not the next morning when we’d arranged for her to get me. She had decided she wanted more time together so had arranged with Hanli to arrive early and spend the night at Pumpkin House.

 

This woman, magical and kind, generous and full of love and spirit, had just given me the biggest gift imaginable. To get to spend my last night in South Africa with two women I admired and aspired to be more like far exceeded anything I might have planned for myself. I was feeling a little like I imagine a time traveler would feel. One moment in one world, the next in a completely different one. Untethered and ungrounded. The old world full of pain and struggle, the new one so full of light and joy it was overwhelming.

 

When Hanli walked across the courtyard to her studio to teach her class, Caroline and I stayed in her living room and visited. That time gave me a chance to bring myself fully into the new space. It was also my first chance to start debriefing the walk I’d just finished, and Caroline was the perfect person for that. She’d been connected to me the whole time and knew at least some of what had happened. 

 

She was – is – also a person who listens with her heart and soul and in her expansive reception of my stories, helped me begin to process toward healing and a deeper understanding of myself and the pilgrimage. One of my favorite things about Caroline is that as good as she is at listening, she’s also open about sharing her own life. Our conversation was a balance of pilgrimage processing and catching up on equally life-changing events in Caroline’s life. 

 

Hanli had invited the headmistress of the school where she was now teaching art to join us for dinner. Bernadine was a perfect fourth to our gathering. I was reminded of the dinner earlier in the walk with Cynthia and Sheila, where the conversation went wide and deep, and fed dormant parts of me that came to life with the nourishment of it. Bernadine had created a well-respected and much in demand private school that covered a couple of city blocks from classes she’d offered in her home. She was humble and soft-spoken, even with all her success. 

 

Dinner was in Hanli’s studio, surrounded by her art, where she’d set a pretty table for us. She served us individual fish casseroles, garlic bread, and a very special salad made with garden greens including peas and fennel. Dessert was cupcakes (carrot cake, of course) from Bernadine’s daughter’s wedding of the weekend before. None of us really wanted the evening to end, but Bernadine needed to get home, so we reluctantly said goodbye to her.

 

 

We headed back to Hanli’s space for tea. On the way across the courtyard, I stopped and drank in the sunset. The soft colors and Jupiter shining alone, as it had for every night of the pilgrimage, felt like a benediction for the day and for all that was coming next. 

 

Hanli told stories of her life and travel that had us amazed and laughing. The day finally caught up with us all. Caroline was fading visibly across from me and I was dizzy with exhaustion, so we said goodnight. Even as tired as I was, I had a hard time falling asleep. Before bed, I did the final sorting of gear that shifted my focus from pilgrim to traveler. Scenes from the day kept replaying. I wondered about Shawn, whether to reach out, or release. The wind sang and rattled (and maybe laughed) outside. 

 

I pondered what would come next for me, and who I would be for what did come next: Facebook awaited, home awaited, stories awaited. 

 

 

 

Day 36 - Saldanha Bay

Monday, November 11

Jacobs Bay to Saldanha Bay

14k/8.7mi

Sunny, Breezy, Cool

 

 

Octavia and her dad came for our luggage at 8:00. They would bring back our chaperones, who would meet us at the coffee shop. While we waited, Ina and I walked the labyrinth at the front of the place. It was, like Pixieland, a little kitschy and a little neglected, but still satisfying. The highway was right next to us, and the huge sign for Pixieland, so the place did not sing sacred space. 

 

Although not standard labyrinth practice, we chatted as we walked. We talked about the labyrinth itself, noting the plants and weird artifacts lying around. We talked about life, and our fellow pilgrims, and how strange it felt to be so close to the end. We talked about what was coming the next day: boat or no boat, how we were going to find our way to Langebaan from Mykonos without directions or chaperones. 

 

 

I took several photographs in the labyrinth and not one of them showed up on my camera later. This wasn’t the first time I’d noticed that happening, but the most obvious. In the several days previous to this, I thought I’d taken pictures, but couldn’t find them at the end of the day. There were pictures of Ina and Frikkie I knew I’d taken, but when I went to share them, they weren’t there. It was strange and a little unsettling. I decided that in my fatigue I wasn’t hitting the button hard enough when I thought I was catching a moment. It’s not something I had ever experienced before, and it hasn’t happened since. 

 

All during the pilgrimage, I was ambivalent about taking as many pictures as I usually do, thinking perhaps fewer pictures would mean greater inner focus. I knew Anna-marie was taking a ton of pictures and sharing them every day, so I had access to those memories. That last week, though, I felt some urgency to get photos that only I could shoot. When that didn’t work out, I accepted the loss, wondering if it wasn’t the pilgrimage’s way of confirming that I needed to stay focused on what was right in front of me. As I’m writing these stories, and noticing fewer and fewer of my pictures available for each successive day, I’m sad for the missing pictures. Mostly because of the memory trigger each picture provides. 

 

** A little research revealed that the likely culprit for the pictures not actually being taken is dry fingers. One contributor to that is aging. Another is the environment. Mystery solved.

 

Once the luggage was gone, Ina, Frikkie, and I walked over to coffee shop. The others walked the labyrinth or spent some quiet time in the courtyard, and joined us later. We all had cappuccinos and ate some of our packed lunches while we waited for the chaperones. They were two young colored men, both very quiet, and neither whose name I learned. We headed out around 8:30. 

 

 

 I was looking forward to the day’s walk, one I remembered as being really beautiful and scenic. We started out on the beach. There was some soft sand walking, but by that point in the walk it barely registered as difficult to manage. Our first stop was in rocks on the edge of the surf, where Ina and Frikkie shared their coffee with me for the last time. (Those pictures didn’t turn out either.)

 

 

We stopped one more time at the end of the beach walk, just before climbing dunes up to the street. It was a particularly beautiful spot. I found myself captivated by the waves crashing against some rocks right by the shore, and while the others sat and rested, I stood and shot picture after picture, trying to catch one perfect moment. (Those pictures did turn out.) While I was shooting, I placed myself firmly there, breathing in the charged air, listening to the crashing waves, feeling the sun and the breeze. 

 

 

 

The dune climb was fun and all too short. We found ourselves in a slightly industrial setting, all pavement and barbed wire and shades of gray. I could see the green hills ahead of us, but our walk took us away from them. Sometime that morning, our chaperone leader had talked in Afrikaans (neither of the young men spoke English) about our day’s route. I recognized the Afrikaans word for snake: slang. Ina explained to me that colored people were terrified of snakes. All that to explain why we didn’t get into the hills, much like what had happened in Wittewater. I, however, did not make the connection between the chaperone’s conversation about snakes and the route we took through the suburbs of Saldanha Bay, until we were in the middle of town. 

 

 

 

At one point, as we paused on the sidewalk so the group could re-form and stay together, I looked up and saw the hills again. I realized we were walking through the urban area we’d observed from above two years before. From that perspective it looked huge and sprawling with houses crammed together. From the street all we could see was what was on either side of us, and directly in front. The pilgrims were the only white people in sight. There was concrete everywhere: our walkway, the buildings, the fences between. The ground was scrubby, even when there was grass. The drabness was lighted occasionally by murals and brightly painted shops and laundry hanging on lines. And by the people whose home we were walking through.

 

We passed many groups of young men slouching about. Families passed us as they went about the business of their lives, while we tried to walk respectfully. People were friendly, if we spoke first. Women were more responsive than men. Engaging with children opened up conversations and brought out smiles. No one spoke English. The greetings that were returned to me often ended in Tannie or Oma, both terms of respect for an older person. It felt lovely.

 

 

We arrived at our hotel quickly, around noon. From the outside, it looked like a prison or a fortress: high walls and a metal gate. It also looked a little seedy. When we were let in, the young woman who would serve as our hostess, took us to our rooms. The interior was bright and inviting, with vivid flowers everywhere and stairs going in a variety of directions. Cynthia and Nicole were put in a room, and Clare and Anna-marie in the room next to them. Their rooms were spacious and modern feeling, clean and light. Ina and Frikkie and I were led down stairs and up stairs to a separate building. We walked into what looked like a suite, with a kitchen and couches and a long table for dining. They were given the bedroom right off that space. 

 

I was feeling a little uncertain by that time. I wanted a space like the other women had gotten. Being the last to be settled worried me a bit. So, when the host took me down some steps, down a narrow hallway, farther away from everyone, I was feeling concerned, and very alone. When she opened the door to my room, I laughed and restrained myself from hugging her in gratitude. She was clearly pleased at my reaction, and told me I was there so I could be close to my friends. I had a single room, nicely appointed, with a very large window, and my very own bathroom. I hit the jackpot. 

 

During the morning’s walk, Gabrielle had been WhatsApping me. She wanted to meet with Cynthia and me once we got settled into the hotel. When I told Cynthia, she was up for it, and we agreed it would be best if we didn’t tell the others (except for Nicole). I didn’t want to hurt Ina and Frikkie’s feelings, and neither of us wanted the inevitable drama that would come from the other two. Also, as difficult as they’d made the walk, and as challenging as they’d been, we knew what it felt like to be left out, and wanted to spare them that discomfort. 

 

It was surprisingly easy to slip out the gates without anyone noticing. Gabrielle and her little dog waited for us in her car. She drove us to a hotel overlooking the water, where we sat on their deck and had tea and cheesecake. The three of us talked for more than two hours. It was a lively and positive conversation. Both Cynthia and I talked about what the pilgrimage had meant to us. We asked questions about things that had concerned us and received answers that, if not completely satisfying, smoothed edges. There was a lot of laughter, and there were tears. 

 

We talked about Clare and A. in particular: their drinking, their anger and resistance to everything Cape Camino said the pilgrimage might offer. I don’t remember if we talked about N. It seems like we should have, but her situation was so complicated, and Peggy had dealt with it mostly, so maybe we didn’t.  We were able to tell Gabrielle that comparing Cape Camino to the Camino de Santiago was not serving them well, that it set people’s expectations in a way that were doomed to disappointment. It was the one bit of feedback that was received gratefully and without deflection.

 

Cynthia and I both raised concerns about Faizel, our chaperone on the Peninsula. Gabrielle’s version of the truth was quite a bit different from his, and it seemed he wasn’t nearly as neglected as he’d made it sound. Cynthia raised her concerns about the community center in Wittewater, and again Gabrielle’s vision was quite a bit different from our experience. We mentioned Clare’s campaign to expose the lack of chaperone pay, which Gabrielle countered. We talked about the Gezie situation: too many people, not enough support, her anxiety and stress. Gabrielle was not sympathetic, but rather seemed to think Gezie was making too big a deal of things, 

 

Most importantly for me, I vocalized for the first time the hardship of the pilgrimage, and how I believed it was necessary for the work I needed to do. I talked about Facebook withdrawal and having to repeatedly reaffirm my commitment to accept whatever came my way and to not try to shape events to my comfort. I talked about the difficulty of going through withdrawal when I was surrounded by people indulging freely in their addictions. I talked about challenging my ego, including living with Cape Camino’s very different treatment of me on that walk. I talked about the times I thought about quitting. I talked about my gratitude for Cynthia, and the hosts, and Cape Camino. I talked about my love of the farm wives, and my concern they were being taken advantage of. 

 

Gabrielle filmed each of us sharing our pilgrimage experience. I don’t remember exactly what I said there, and I haven’t seen the film because it was posted on Facebook. What I do remember is consciously focusing on the positive while acknowledging what was difficult and painful, without blaming anyone. Listening to Cynthia talk about her pilgrimage, I was once again impressed with how articulate she was and proud to have been part of her experience. 

 

After the hotel, Gabrielle drove us to the waterfront to show us where we would go in the morning to find Gerrit and the boat that would take us across the bay to Mykonos. When she dropped us back at our hotel around 4:00 we parted with hugs and smiles. The energy was happy and empowered. 

 

I knew that I hadn’t really changed Gabrielle’s mind about anything, just as I knew I had been careful to keep my feedback without anger or blame. Our hotel conversation, hearing myself, and hearing Cynthia, helped me grasp how important everything that had happened on the pilgrimage was to whatever it was I needed to learn. Changing any of it would have meant the loss of this huge gift I was just beginning to grasp the power of. That didn’t mean I wasn’t glad to see it almost over, or that I would ever want to repeat the experience. 

 

Now I was truly oriented toward the ending of the pilgrimage and the return home. Back in my room, I packed and sorted, and pulled out the last of the gifts I’d brought to share. I walked over to Cynthia’s room and gave her my travel yoga mat. I sat at the long dining table visiting with Ina, and gave her my nautilus shell necklace, something I’d planned before I even left home. She had admired a similar necklace two years before, and I wanted to fulfill that want. Her reaction on receiving the necklace lit up the room and my heart. Anam Cara, which had been such a comforting companion for the last weeks, was going to be left with Caroline, whose care had also brought such comfort.

 

 

We all gathered at the steps into our building for some photo fun. I had observed that except for Nicole, we all had gray hair. It seemed a picture highlighting that was called for. We lined up, just the women at first, and then with some serious urging, Frikkie joined. Nicole took the pictures. We laughed and jostled as different poses were struck, united by age and hair color.

 

 

When workers came in to set the table in our space where we’d all have dinner, I added my gifts to the place settings. Each person got a card, a wooden bird, and a bandanna. Writing the cards, even to the two women I had such ambivalent feelings about, felt like forgiveness and closure and love. When everyone came in, they were pleased to see gifts. Clare even made a small speech, and seemed very sincere in her thanks. 

 

People asked where Cynthia and I had disappeared to earlier in the afternoon. We said we’d gone into town and explored a bit, that we’d had tea and cheesecake at another hotel. All true, just not complete. It was hard not to tell the rest. 

 

Part of the dinner conversation was about what would happen in the morning. Clare was going to be picked up and taken to the airport to go home. Anna-marie was still uncertain, but leaning toward riding with the luggage transport to Langebaan. The rest of us wanted to take the boat, and Anna-marie had agreed to relay that to Gerrit. There was some question still about whether the conditions would make taking a boat possible, and how we would get to the harbor to catch the boat. We decided to let things sit until the next day. 

 

We didn’t actually know who was doing luggage transport at that point, and that was a point of anger for the group. As always, the anger was focused toward Gabrielle for not communicating more clearly, for being cavalier about what we as pilgrims should be dealing with. It felt like all the frustrations of the entire walk came to a head. The confusion about luggage transport and how we were to get to Mykonos and then how we were to find our way to Langebaan tipped the balance into anger that went beyond Clare’s usual discontent. 

 

During the group discussion, I stayed mostly quiet, as had been my choice for the entire pilgrimage. I agreed with what was being said, but I also felt loyalty to Gabrielle and Cape Camino. We wouldn’t be on that walk without her vision and tenacity. Pilgrimage was about letting go of expectations and being willing to suffer for the privilege of walking and seeking inner change. Everyone was wrong, and everyone was right. 

 

Later, in conversation with Ina, I did defend Gabrielle directly. Ina was operating on what had been said at the dinner table. I pointed out that some of the things she was being held responsible for, like not securing luggage transport, hadn’t even happened. Gabrielle messaged us eventually to tell us she’d hired a driver to take our luggage to Langebaan. 

 

 

Our last pilgrim dinner was fried chicken, roasted potatoes, and roasted vegetables. Simple and satisfying. I brought out the last of my chocolate stash for dessert. Everyone left as the sunset was just beginning to color the sky. Even with the upset about all the uncertainties, everyone seemed happy at the end of dinner and a little reluctant to end the evening. I thought back to our first dinner together, and felt gratitude at the contrast. 

 

 

I went to my room, but was feeling restless, so went back out to make tea. I found Ina also up, and so we sat with our tea and visited one last time. Part of our conversation involved me telling her that she and Frikkie should come to the States for a visit. She said they’d consider it in a way that felt more than the usual “I wish I could” response. 

 

The last words in my journal for that day: “It was a very good day and last night together. I’m at peace, feeling calm and happy, if exhausted. No word from Shawn.”          

 

 

 

 

 

Day 35 - Jacobs Bay

Sunday, November 10

Asfaal to Jacobs Bay

15k/9mi

Misty, Windy, Cold, Cloudy to Cool and Cloudy

 

 

When we gathered around Alta’s table to pack our lunches from the huge assortment of food, I asked the group in general if A. was in fact joining us for the last day. I can’t remember who responded, but I learned that she wanted to, but Cape Camino was saying no because she’d quit. They said there wasn’t a room available at the final host’s. A. was insisting she had paid and so had the right. I learned a bit later that Clare and Anna-marie had suggested she join us for the last night. It apparently wasn’t A.’s idea at all. 

 

I’d worked through most of my anger about the situation on the pages of my journal, so was more curious than anything else to see how it would all play out. It seemed that Gabrielle and A. had met their match in each other, and it wasn’t entirely clear who would come out on top. My money was on Gabrielle.

 

 

The weather turned in the night, and the day offered us a cold mist and heavy gray skies. For the first time since the Peninsula, we needed rain gear and layers. Another early start had been called and we were eager to get going because walking was the only way to warm up. Mané and Charlize were our chaperones for the day. He arrived first, Charlize quite a bit later. They had to confer because they hadn’t worked together before. It was decided we’d take Mané’s route, which was shorter and would take us through the dunes.

 

Alta walked out with us when we finally started, wanting a picture of the pilgrims under the sign for her business. When we turned the corner of the house toward the sign, we ran into a group of people who seemed focused on Cynthia. I’d seen them wandering around earlier in the morning, but didn’t give them much thought beyond noticing they were colored, something unusual for the area we were walking. 

 

They were in fact there for Cynthia: people from her work and friends and a media person there to support her work for whistleblowers. They intended to walk with her from Afsaal to Jacobs Bay. She would be interviewed and filmed. They’d made arrangements through Cape Camino and Alta, and had managed to keep the whole thing a secret. Even Cynthia’s daughter, Nicole, was kept in the dark. Their presence helped explain why Alta had kept bringing food out to the table long after we’d had more than enough.

 

In the excitement and chaos of the revelation of the surprise, the rest of us were left to our own devices. We were stuck waiting for Alta, and until the chaperones got themselves sorted out. Alta forgot she meant to take a picture with us. It was decided Charlize would stay with that group, and Mané would walk with us. He promised he could manage the different paces we’d be keeping, that Ina and Frikkie would be fine without their own chaperone.

 

We finally made our way to the road and headed down the long steep hill that we’d climbed the day before, happy to be moving. We hadn’t gone far when a car pulled up alongside. Charlize got out. After a quick conversation, Mané got in the car and it left. Charlize needed to go with us because she had to be in Jacobs Bay by a certain time. We were going to arrive much sooner than Cynthia’s group, so Mané went with them. We had nothing to say about what was happening, and went along with little fuss. Even knowing we’d likely be taking a longer route, and be going slower, didn’t matter all that much at that point. 

 

 

I walked with Ina and Frikkie for a long time. Going slow was actually appealing, especially with only two walking days left. As eager as I was to be done with the pilgrimage, I was equally reluctant to not be walking every day. One of the things I loved about being with Ina and Frikkie was the ease of moving ahead or slipping behind. We were a well-oiled walking machine together and the familiarity of it was such a pleasure. Clare and Anna-marie walked with Charlize mostly. 

 

 

We walked through pastures dotted with cows and fynbos until we reached the sea. We walked the beach for a while until we turned inland to a series of dunes. Mané had told Charlize his route, and she was trying to follow that. The problem was all the dunes looked alike and the trail kept disappearing into sand. We trudged up dunes and slid laughing down them, stopping at the tops to scout ahead. All of us were working hard, but when we finally found the beach again, we were exhilarated by our dune adventure, and proud that our bodies had handled the challenge well. 

 

 

Once on the beach again we emptied our shoes and found a place to eat. I soaked in the view: everything shades of gray, softened by the lace of waves coming into shore. It had warmed up enough we took off our coats and were comfortable in the cooler air. We didn’t linger, however, as sweat cooled and movement called. 

 

 

With Charlize’s permission, I walked ahead, enjoying that delicious freedom of no one in front of me. There was nothing but beach ahead, ocean on the right, one foot in front of the other in semi-soft sand. She caught up with me farther down the beach to ask what I thought about the choices ahead. We could continue on the beach into town, or take a road off the beach. The beach route was longer and the soft sand would continue. The road was shorter and while still sandy, much easier to navigate. Pleased to be asked, I told her we should take the road, knowing Ina and Frikkie would appreciate the break, and not unhappy to be off the sand myself.

 

I continued out front alone, promising that I’d stop and wait at a gate. The road leading to the gate started to look familiar, and when I saw the gate, I recognized the spot. We’d been here two years before, ending one of the longest and hardest walking days of that pilgrimage. I was happy today’s walk was nothing like that. 

 

 

Clare and Anna-marie arrived, and then Charlize. We settled in to wait for Ina and Frikkie. Charlize sat on a wall with me and mentioned she’d been having a hard time keeping up with me. She knew my age, so I knew I’d been a topic of conversation. She talked about her 74-year-old mom who was old and crippled. She talked about being determined to keep walking because of that. It was a sweet and validating conversation, and I was grateful then that she was our chaperone.

 

Earlier in the walk, I had decided I wasn’t going to tip Charlize because I was irritated she didn’t know the route and had spent no time with me at all. After our conversation I reconsidered my decision. I groaned at myself a little that my judgmental self had nearly cost me the gift of connection, and a chance at generosity. 

 

 

When Ina and Frikkie arrived, happy and in good spirits, we went around the gate and proceeded along the side of the road toward our destination. Our first stop was a coffee shop called the Bean & Leaf, which I remembered vividly from before. Our backpackers was just a short walk through a field from the coffee shop and it was early, only 10:30, so we settled in for drinks and snacks. 

 

The place was busy and had a happy energy. It felt good to just sit among people and enjoy the buzz of conversation and caffeine. Ina and Frikkie had a long chat with a couple sitting next to us, filling them in on our pilgrimage. The owner kept checking on us to make sure we had everything we needed. Alta joined us. She was luggage transport and would wait to take Mané back. Charlize left right after we arrived, but made a point to come say goodbye and get a hug before. I tipped her. 

 

We headed out together toward the backpackers lodging that we could see across the field. Clare and Anna-marie went ahead when Ina, Frikkie, and I were stopped by a women named Gerda. She had been our host two years before and just happened to see us walk by. She was thrilled to see Ina and Frikkie, and barely acknowledged me. I was accustomed by then to people remembering my friends much more than me. 

 

Not being included in the conversation made it easier for me to continue on my own. When I arrived at on the other side of the field, I saw signs for Pixieland and a high wall with a gate. I was confused at first, unclear where the backpackers was. I caught sight of Anna-marie’s back moving into Pixieland. Alta was sitting in her car in the parking lot. So, I knew I was in the right place. I waited for Ina and Frikkie to catch up and we walked through the high wall together.

 

We spotted a beautiful young colored woman in a bright orange dress walking with Clare and Anna-marie. When we caught up to them, they announced they were taking one of the double rooms, and I would be sharing the triple with Cynthia and Nicole. Shades of A. at Schaftplaas. It made sense I’d be with my friend and her daughter, but being ordered rankled still. 

 

Ina and Frikkie would have their own double on the same side of the property as Clare and Anna-marie. Octavia, our host, walked me across the lawn in the opposite direction to show me my room. It was tucked in a corner, other rooms close by. There was a glamping tent on the other side. The room itself held three bunkbeds with just enough space for a small table by each. I took the bed by the door so Cynthia and Nicole could be across from each other. 

 

When I asked Octavia about the bathroom and showers, she said they were up by the entrance. I almost laughed, because of course. However, she pointed to the tent on the other side of some bushes from our room and told me I could use that bathroom if I wanted. No one was using the glamping tent that night. That felt like the biggest gift I could have hoped for. Later when I explored the place and scouted out the showers, I found them dark and small and gross. When I used the bathroom by the glamping tent, I discovered it had its own shower.

 

I went to the office to ask Octavia if I might use that shower. She was on the phone, and it didn’t take long before I realized she was talking to Gabrielle. Apparently, our dinner plans for the evening had been changed. We were originally supposed to eat at the Bean & Leaf, but they were closed on Sunday nights (something I thought Cape Camino should have already known). Arrangements had been made for us to have dinner in a private home a mile or so away. Octavia was trying to get Gabrielle to arrange transportation. I heard Gabrielle say that we were walkers and we could walk. Octavia looked at me apologetically, and I just smiled. She gave me permission to use the shower without hesitation. 

 

After my stop at the office, on my way to the shower, I saw Ina and Alta sitting at an outside bar chatting. Ina called me over, so I joined them. It was fun to be three old ladies from very different worlds talking about life. Alta was crocheting a sweater with the most beautiful blue doily-thin yarn, patiently waiting for Mané to arrive. Ina left. I stayed, in no hurry to go anywhere, enjoying getting to know and better appreciate Alta. 

 

That morning, I had decided not to leave my customary gift and note behind on my bed. The only times on the walk so far that I hadn’t left the thank you token were places I had no contact with the host at all. There weren’t many. I was annoyed about the previous day’s trip to town without me, about the bathroom situation, about her not talking to me once the entire time I was there. 

 

Talking to Alta in the courtyard that afternoon I realized how badly I’d misread her. She was shy and quiet, and not comfortable with English at all. She was a fairly new host and not yet settled into the role. But she loved hosting, and feeding people. She cared deeply. I was both embarrassed and grateful. The memory of my experience with Charlize was still very fresh, and this felt like an opportunity to rewrite a story. 

 

I went to my room, wrote a card, pulled out the small wooden bald eagle that was my offering, and went back to Alta. I explained I had not done this earlier, without telling her my whole character-building conflict, and that I was glad I had the chance to do it then. She was pleased, and asked me to sign the bottom of the bird. We hugged goodbye when I left to take my shower. 

 

That shower was one of my favorite experiences of the day. While private, surrounded by a wooden fence, it was open-air. The floor and surround were stone, the water hot, the pressure solid. It was a Swiss Family Robinson moment, one I enjoyed thoroughly. The story of how I’d been given the gift of this space made being there all the sweeter. 

 

Clare and Anna-marie complained to Octavia about the bunk beds in their room. They got what they asked for and were still not happy. She moved them into a room with two single beds. A. would have been proud of them. I felt a little righteous smugness at not caring (much), and at how my situation turned out without creating conflict.

 

The backpackers was very funky and weird. The courtyard held lots of kitschy statues and places to sit and was nicely landscaped. There was an entrance from the courtyard into Pixieland, which Cape Camino had promoted as a spiritual site. There was a lot of shade, and except for the occasional family wandering through to go to Pixieland, we had it to ourselves. 

 

Octavia had pointed out the kitchen building on her way to show me my room. When I checked it out later, I discovered there was an electric kettle for making hot water, and a few mugs, but little else. No coffee or milk or tea. I walked back to the shopping center that held Bean & Leaf to a small market I’d seen close by. All I really needed was milk because I had coffee sachets and rooibos in my gear. I found milk, and chocolate and snacks and Coke.

 

I was settled at a table in the courtyard with my drink and goodies and my journal when Cynthia’s group arrived a couple of hours after we did. I was happy to show Cynthia and Nicole to our room where I’d put chocolate on their pillows, and share our special secret bathroom. After a while, Cynthia came out and joined me in the courtyard. It was so nice to hear about her day, to know what it meant to her, and just to be in her company. I had missed her on the walk. 

 

 

Clare and Anna-marie came out and wanted to explore Pixieland. Ina and I joined them and had the best time wandering the weird little displays of fairies, pixies, and other small magical beings. We took pictures, and pointed out various weirdnesses to each other, and giggled like kids. The place was shabby and tired-feeling, but clearly someone had put a lot of thought and energy into it. While it didn’t feel spiritual at all, we were glad for the experience. 

 

During the course of the day, there was drama on the WhatsApp group, and in side conversations, around our last day. A. was insisting she be allowed to stay. The original guest house turned out to be the wrong one. The correct one only had room for Cynthia and Nicole, and Anna-marie. (Ina and Frikkie had plans to stay with Frikkie’s brother, and I was staying at Pumpkin House with Hanli.) Not only was there not room for A., but there was also not room for Clare. She had never been scheduled to stay that night, but hadn’t understood that when she got her itinerary. She was not happy, and decided she’d leave a day early rather than try to find a bed for that last night. That changed the entire transport to Cape Town, which I’d already backed out of, but which now left Anna-marie on her own to find her way there. We were also still trying to figure out the boat situation.

 

It felt sticky and messy and also not a surprising end to this particular adventure. None of it really involved me, beyond a small sense of satisfaction that there might be some karmic justice at work. 

 

We gathered to walk to dinner together. Three of us walked through the field toward the street that would lead us to our destination. Two of us walked on the street parallel to the field. We met up where they intersected and stayed together for the rest of the walk. We had an address and a Google maps link and Frikkie was leading. I tried to use the navigation on my phone, but the lag made it less than useful. We missed our first turn, made the next one, wandered the neighborhood a bit, and finally arrived on time. 

 

We couldn’t figure out how to get to the front door through the fence, and were happy when a young man came out to fetch us. We walked into a beautiful home, light and airy, and met our host, Gerda. She was very welcoming, and introduced us to a gentleman, not as her husband but as her partner in this business. She offered dinners like ours to tourists, a chance to have a local meal in a local home. 

 

 

There was some confusion at first. Gerda was expecting 10 people and had been told we had to eat early and fast because people needed to catch a flight. Apparently, Gabrielle had thought three of Cynthia’s companions were going to join us, but they had left for the airport long before we walked over for dinner. Gerda was relieved there was no longer a time crunch, and a little frustrated that she’d prepared food for more people than necessary. 

 

We settled around the beautifully set table, with the extra settings and chairs removed. Menus for the dinner were at our places. There was a lot of wine, and the food was abundant and delicious. She explained each thing as it was served. We were in awe of the meal and the setting, grateful for the special treatment we were receiving. Nicole, who hadn’t been feeling well earlier, was looking decidedly uncomfortable across from me at the table. I was impressed by her calm stoicism and care not to draw attention to herself. 

 

When dinner was done, the gentleman offered to drive us back as it was getting dark and cold. Ina and Frikkie, and Clare and Anna-marie wanted to walk. I decided to ride back with Cynthia and Nicole. When we went out to get in the car, we noticed the two couples striding off in opposite directions, and laughed. The gentleman drove us home by way of an overlook to the sunset and talked amiably the whole time about life in Jacobs Bay. It was a pleasant end to the day, and I was grateful for one more African sunset.

 

When we arrived at the backpackers before the walkers, we discovered the door locked. I called the number and had to wait for someone to unlock it remotely. While we were waiting, my phone rang. It was someone wanting to know when we were leaving in the morning. Anna-marie had told us our luggage needed to be ready at 8:00, and our walk would start at 9:00. I was happy that I had the information to share, even though I had no idea why I was being asked. 

 

We brought all the next day’s lunches with us in the car and took them to our room. I was already in bed, and Cynthia and Nicole were getting ready for bed when Clare and Anna-marie came knocking. They wanted to get their food right then, even though there would be a ton of time in the morning. It took a while for them to sort through everything and take what they wanted. It took us a while after to get settled back in.

 

The last thing I remember was hearing the soft murmurings of a mother and daughter whose relationship I felt privileged to witness. Two more walking days, three days until home. I was feeling weirdly strong, and impervious to the toxicity and drama that was the backdrop to the entire pilgrimage. It wasn’t about me. I could get through the remaining time calmly and with integrity. Magical thinking hadn’t proved helpful in the previous weeks. It wasn’t going to at the end either.