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.