The Amazing Race - skydiving and wine tasting

Day #3

I was driving along Route 16 with my windows wide open. Singing along with my radio distracted me long enough to forget the check that was loosely tucked up in my visor. As I approached the exit for the mall, with the speed of a “foot in mouth” comment you wish you could take back, that check shot out of the window with the wind and sailed away among the cars behind me! There was nothing I could do in that moment – I felt hopeless (and broke!).

Fast-forward many years to the skies over Cape Town, South Africa. A small, single prop plane flew nearly 9,000 feet in the cloudless sky. The plane lacked elite status, with strips of duct tape scattered about and a piece of heavy white cardboard nailed to the side opposite the door. This door, absent of any locking mechanism, rolled open and closed and constituted nearly the entire right side of the plane. “The air is a bit warmer today,” one of the men declared as he put his hand up to a gap in the metal of the ceiling.

Packed inside were six people and a pilot. Alan Chelsea and I paired with our life-saving partners composed the entire passenger list as we journeyed to 9,000ft prepared to jump into the South African air. Tucked into the front right corner of the plane was Alan’s tandem partner, with Alan sitting close in front. To their right sat my tandem partner, Jason. He looked remarkably similar to Hugh Grant’s roommate in the movie Notting Hill, but I didn’t care as long as he knew how to pull open our shute! In front of Jason, between his outstretched legs sat me, with one arm wrapped around my legs and the other gripping Chelsea’s hand. She sat next to me, pressed up against the “not so safe” door. Her tandem partner Beu, sat opposite her, periodically checking his altimeter watch. Finally, “Ok, let’s get ready!”

Let the record show that up until this point, I was ok. I was anxious and quietly terrified, but I was composed. It had all happened so fast: got out of the car, signed my life away, strapped on a harness that would hopefully keep me alive, walked to a plane that defied all logic, climbed in without so much as a second thought, and silently panicked momentarily as the plane climbed off the runway. Squeezing Chelsea’s hand, the reality had not fully sunken in yet. When Beu announced we had reached our altitude, and Chelsea began to turn her body around to be strapped to her soon to be hero, reality came rushing in like cold to your nerves. As I scooted onto Jason lap so I could be secured, I instantly began to panic. The fear increased exponentially as soon as Beu rolled open the door and moved toward the opening where the door had been seconds before. Gripping Jason’s thighs I began to declare, “I can’t do this! I can’t do this!” Even though I was not going to ask to stay in the plane or have it turn around and land, there was still that little bit of "escape" left right up until that moment when Beu announced it was time. In that second, it was official, there was no turning back.

In the same way it is nearly impossible to avert your eyes from a car wreck, I struggled to look away as Chelsea dangled over the edge of the plane on her guide’s lap. Suddenly, like the check that flew out of my car window so many years ago, Chelsea was gone! She had disappeared into the sky, and I was next.  As the insane reality of what just happened struck me in the gut, a split second passed in silence. Then, with increased despair, I began to cry (only a little!) and panic; however, despite it all, I miraculously remembered every direction previously given to me. I tucked my feet under the plane, tilted my head back into Jason’s neck, and prayed to God!

Whooosh! Just like that…I was gone!

For what felt like minutes, I shot through the blue sky, face to the ground, with the air deafening me. I forced my arms out to my side like a bird and willed my eyes open long enough to see table mountain, the waters of False Bay, and the brown and greens of the landscape below. Jason tapped my shoulder, he pulled the cord, and our bodies reversed direction. The roar of the wind silenced as if turned off by a switch. The free fall ended. There I hung on the front of a man named Jason floating thousands of feet above Cape Town in awe of the scenery that lay below me. In disbelief that the girl who has feared heights for as long as I can remember just dropped out of the sky willingly! I smiled with appreciation for life and pride for me!

What better way to top skydiving than with a glass of wine…in fact-several glasses! Our morning was spent falling from an airplane and our afternoon would be spent touring the wineries in the heart of Stellenbosch – part of the Cape Winelands of South Africa. We spent several hours driving from one vineyard to the next sampling some of the finest wines in all of SA. The six hours we spent sitting back, relaxing, and sipping reds and whites was the icing on the cake that was our day. Green fields striped with grape vines were nestled below the Helderberg Mountains and provided some of the most incredible scenery I’ve ever seen. Many times during this day I found myself feeling the kind of contentment that declares, “I could stay like this forever.” 

Cheers!

Life is too short to drink cheap wine...

THE AMAZING RACE - Table Mountain

Day #2

The paint was a deep red. African art dressed the walls. A twin bed rested in the right corner of the cozy room and parallel to it on the left was a set of bunk beds. A modest bathroom was across the room from the beds. Tucked into each of the twin beds, with drool on their pillows, were three travelers ready to rise and continue the race… “Munna Munna, Mah Munna Mah!” Alan’s robot alarm blared and we were off!

Breakfast sandwiches and three coffees in our stomachs; waters, cameras, extra layers, and snacks (to satisfy my continuous hunger) stashed in our bags; and we were trudging up the hill to the base of Table Mountain. This 3,500 foot mountain provides a stunning backdrop to Cape Town. It overlooks the city and Table Bay and its plateau summit stretches for nearly 2 miles from side to side. Table Mountain was our Day 2 Adventure.

A text from dad that morning said, “I think I’d take the Cable Car.” Sharing this with Chelsea and Alan I commented, “My parents could do this! When they come, I’m making them hike!” Twenty minutes into our ascent up the rocky stairway that was the Platteklip Gorge I uttered these words: “My parents should take the Cable Car!”

The trail was set with rocks – small and large – that required a constant stair stepping motion tough enough to make my butt and quads wish I had taken the cable car as well!

Looking out from our place on the trail, we could see Chapman’s Peak nestled between Table Mountain and the Atlantic Ocean, the city of Cape Town stretching forever until it touched the water’s edge at the V&A Waterfront, and to our right - Devil’s Peak thrusting its rocky top towards the sky. For the second day in a row, our senses were stimulated in every way possible. The air was warm, the view was breathtaking, and the adrenaline was coursing.

After about two and half hours we reached the summit. Adding another layer, we walked around the top taking in every inch of the blue water, black and gray sandstone, and miniature buildings spread across the floor of the valley below. In the distance – plunked in the middle of the ocean – was Robben Island. This island was home to the prison where Nelson Mandela spent 18 years of his prison sentence. Cruising up to the top of Table Mountain along a narrow wire was the iconic Cable Car – or what we referred to in exhaustion as the “lazy man’s way to the top.” As the clouds rolled in covering “the table,” the temperature dropped and our stay at the top needed to end quickly! After an emergency trip to the bathroom (I hate my stomach!) and a tasty cup of hot chocolate, we began the trek down the mountain on shaky legs.

We made it to the bottom in far less time and with much less stops along the way. Turning around and looking back at our accomplishment filled us with pride. As we walked past the queue of tourists awaiting their turn in the cable car, all the sweat, tired muscles, and shivers at the top felt increasingly more worth it. Table Mountain was ours for the day – a borrowed vista upon which we stood and felt wonderfully insignificant compared to the wonders that Cape Town spread before us. 

THE AMAZING RACE BEGINS

October 15^th – October 21^st

God created the universe in 6 days. 

God has nothin' on Alan, Chelsea and me!

Day #1:

*Picked Alan up at Johannesburg International Airport – brimming with excitement as we waited. The instant he walked through the doors I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face – HOME had arrived in JoBurg! The reunion couldn’t last long – we had to gather up Alan and his bags and scramble off to Lanseria International Airport (about 30 minutes away) to catch our 12:45pm flight to Cape Town.

*Checked into Lanseria. With our footwear still on and not so much as a second glance from any guard, we crossed through security. We sat for 45 minutes before exiting the airport terminal, crossing the tarmac and boarding the bright orange plane destined to transport us two hours south to Cape Town.

*After Alan’s third plane ride in 24 hours, we stuffed our suitcases into the tiny trunk of our rented Hyundai and set the GPS for Boulders Beach. Alan’s confusion with the left side of the road continued as he stifled his warnings to “get back on the right side of the road!” The scenery, completely opposite of the landscape of Johannesburg, triggered many Oos and Ahs as we traveled along the coast. One stop to see a whale playing in the harbor, and we were finally at Boulders Beach and the African Penguin Colony. The little tuxedo wearing birds were scattered along a boardwalk. They were hidden among the bushes, squeaking like Teq’s dog toys, and laying in the sand oblivious to the tourists’ eyes. With our toes in the sand, we gazed out across False Bay and admired the beauty of the mountains, boulders, and Atlantic Ocean.

*The sun began to lower in the sky. It was time to find our B&B (The House on the Hill) and we did so by way of a scenic drive called Chapman’s Peak Drive. It’s reputation for being a gorgeous span of road along the coast was completely accurate. Shades of pink, red, and orange brushed the sky, stopping at the horizon where the deep, sparkling blue water continued to color the image in our eyes. The setting sun illuminated the mountains and ledges that we drove along causing them to almost glow. It was one of those moments in time you never want to end - visually stimulating on every level. 

ALAN IS COMING!!

October 11, 2011

With tears in my eyes, excitement somewhere inside, and fear in my head I climbed the stairs at Liz’s place emerging from the basement where the rest of the crew continued watching the Super Bowl game. Alan had just arrived and it was time to see him in person after sharing my news – I would be moving to South Africa to teach! “I’m so scared Alan!” I admitted as the salt water spilled over onto my cheeks. His response instantly warmed me, “What? Are you kidding! I’m so excited! I’ve always wanted to go to South Africa!” The excitement spread across his face like a child on Christmas morning and began to reassure me. In that moment, I knew I would have at least one visitor during my two year stay. Eight months later – here he comes!

In four days I will find my way to the Johannesburg Airport and stand near the baggage claim awaiting my great friend, my running buddy, my first American visitor - Alan. In all of my life I have never lived in a place no one else has been to before and had visitors. Seeing Alan walking towards me – a piece of home in a land so far away – is sure to be nothing less than amazing!

(His arrival marks the beginning of our spring break from school. Immediately following Johannesburg Airport, Chelsea, Alan, and I will scoot over to a smaller airport where we will take off for our visit to Cape Town. Whales, penguins, Table Mountain, vineyards, shark cages, and possibly skydiving are on the agenda…stay tuned for new posts! ) 

Hitting the Roads

October 10, 2011

“I’ll never run a 10K.”

“I’ll never run a half marathon.”

“I’ll never run a full marathon.”

Over the past several years I uttered these phrases as I proudly stood on the side of the road watching Lori reach each running milestone. Be it twin competitiveness or motivation from my beautiful other half, I have successfully proved myself wrong. I have run many 10Ks, completed five half marathons, and in a year and a half trained for and ran two full marathons. Thanks to the example my favorite person in the world set for me, I have become a genuine runner.

Turning left onto William Nichol Drive at 6:45 in the morning (Monday – Friday) is like driving the wrong way in a road race. To my right (remember: I drive on the left side of the road here) sits a solid line of traffic that stretches for what seems like miles, resembling a line of ants travelling back to their nest.  Flashing by my window on the left are walkers and runners. Different than a road race, these “competitors” are not wearing a bib or after a medal. Instead, they are dressed for work – long pants, skirts, jumpsuits, etc. Every morning it takes me by surprise.

I am nearly certain that most of these men and women are residents of a local township Diepsloot. Known as one of the more dangerous townships, Diepsloot begins about 4 miles down William Nichol from where I turn left to head to school. Although its reputation is one that certainly discourages anyone from traveling through the township while the sun is sleeping – “You don’t ever go through here at night!” we were told – these people who trod along the side of the road each and every morning are not scary.

I do not lock my doors as I drive by. I leave my windows cracked open without fear that someone will smash them. In fact, I actually find myself smiling when I spot the black man with shoulder length dreads who runs with a drawstring bag on his back with the strings cinched in front of his chest – presumably containing all he needs for the day. Sitting in my car, listening to the radio and sipping my iced coffee, I hope to catch sight of the older black man who runs with his florescent yellow shirt and light colored hat. He must be nearly sixty - if not older. I wonder as I pass him by, how many years has he been running to work?

It’s hard, at the end of the day, to make excuses for not going out for a run after seeing the same men and women trudging up the massive hills as they return from a full day’s work. Although I am not prepared to run any half or full marathons in the very near future, I have found myself remaining dedicated to the sport. Despite the effects of altitude and the insane amount of hills, I am managing to remain consistent with my running. At the risk of future embarrassment should I not follow through, I have set a goal for my second year here in Africa: to run the Two Oceans Ultra Marathon. In order to complete the 35 miles, I will need to continue conquering the elevation and overwhelming amount of hills Johannesburg has thrown in my path. I suspect that the more I bear witness to the dedication of these Diepsloot residents, I will be able to say:

“I will run 60Ks.” 

Weekend in the Bush

September 23 – 25

Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy my job, thrive in a learning environment, love interacting with my students, and feel good at the end of the day for the difference I have made. However, tell me I have a long weekend, and I will never complain! Thanks to the South African holiday Heritage Day, we were granted just that – an early release on Thursday and no school on Friday. PERFECT! 

After a three and a half hour drive, culminating with nearly 30 miles of dirt road driving, I cruised my dirty white Jetta through the gate at Madikwe Game Reserve. Beware! You have now entered Big 5 Country – the brown and yellow sign signaled the beginning of what we hoped would be a successful game viewing experience. About 10 minutes past the gate, we came across a watering hole on the side of the road. The surreal beauty of lanky giraffes, skittish impalas, and a few passive zebras surrounded us on both sides. Immediately the cameras started snapping. As the driver I was limited to my cell phone camera – why hadn’t I remembered to take my camera out of my bag?! Inside the car we remarked on the incredible reality that was our life in that moment – our innocent intrusion into the life of these gorgeous animals. Outside the car, the giraffe looked at us as if we were flies – nuisances they wished would disappear – but not dangerous enough to flee from faster than a casual stroll. The zebra barely looked up from their meal of parched grass.

Sixteen of us travelled the distance from Jo’Burg to Madikwe, which resides near the border of Botswana.  Separated in five cars, we began as a train of four, with one couple set to meet us at the park. What began as a cohesive unit quickly broke into two smaller groups as our leader, Kaitlyn, took a wrong turn! The four of us in my little Jetta stuck like glue to Sandy and Fred in their massive SUV. Marcus in his little Pugeot remained with Kaitlyn and Kurt. Thankfully, GPSs are a wonderful invention, and we all managed to reconvene at the Park Administration car park with enough time to enjoy a cold beer. Our excitement grew with the possibilities the weekend dangled in front of us as we looked at the dusty dirt roads, blowing grass the color of a lion’s mane, and the acres of bush that camouflaged nearly all of Africa’s amazing creatures. 

When all were accounted for, we put away our car keys, threw our bags into the back of an empty safari jeep, and climbed into the two other jeeps that were waiting to take us to the center of the game park – our home for the next two nights.

Mosetlha Bush Camp was an adorable camp nestled in the middle of the entire game reserve. With only two wires strung around it’s perimeter about eight feet from the ground, the camp was completely vulnerable to the African bush and all it’s inhabitants – from puff adders to spiders, elephants to giraffe. “But what about the lions – can’t they come into camp?” a friend asked. “Yup.” came in response. In fact, come to find out, the second night, while we all slept soundly, a male leopard entered and explored our camp. Had he wanted to, any one of us could have been his midnight snack. It was an uneasy, yet incredibly thrilling experience to be so exposed. As we entered camp, we were given a tour of the amenities, which despite the lack of electricity and running water, were actually quite nice. The “dining room” boasted an enormous, beautiful wooden table. It easily sat all sixteen of us with a little room to spare. We all split into pairs to share sleeping quarters. My significant other, AKA Chelsea, and I bunked together for the weekend. The cabins were cozy. Twin beds, a single table, two lanterns, and a three walls. The front and back walls were only half walls – allowing for exposure to the outdoors. Despite our susceptibility, the thing I feared most was not the lions, but rather the possibility of spiders and snakes sneaking in the nooks and crannies of our humble abode.

Although I remained pretty grimy all weekend, there were shower fascilities in camp. They consisted of a fenced off area complete with a shower stall, as well as a bathroom (a raised hole in the ground with a toilet seat on top). The shower was a steel bucket rigged to a pulley system, with a spout built into the bottom. If you desired to shower, you first must fill a bucket with water, pass it through the donkey boiler (real name!) to heat it, and then carry it to the shower stall. Next, you would pour the water into the steel bucket and then control the output with a lever attached to the spout. Quite frankly, I regret that I cannot say I experienced this.

At 4:00pm we gathered our layers (the nights get chilly), cameras, hopes and scrambled into the two Land Rover Jeeps, eight in each, ready for our first of four game drives. My guide’s name was Johnny – without so much as a smile, he placed his shotgun into its place on the dashboard, started up the jeep, and away we went.  Immediately, we were met with the chatter of the radio – filled with mentions of animal sightings (mostly spoken in Afrikaans). It felt as though we were on a mission – a level of intensity settled on our jeep – but in a way that made our hearts race and smiles increase with excitement for what was possible. Suddenly, Johnny stopped the jeep and hopped out. Where was he going?! He bent down and pointed to a fresh paw print in the dirt – lions! In that large paw print, possibility grew!

 

The other jeep had pulled off onto the side of a trail we were on. Johnny, clearly establishing himself as the more take charge of the two guides, pulled off the trail as well, but continued to drive through the bush a ways until he stopped and pointed. Ahead, hidden slightly behind the trees, but in clear enough view, were three or four Cape Buffalo. Again, they stared back at us with our flashing cameras and excited whispers, as if we were pesky, uninvited guests. In the way a woman might flip her hair and turn away, the buffalo took one last look at us and then meandered on their way – out of sight. Now, all I need to see to complete my Big 5 sightings was a lion. Game on!

The writer in me could sit here and recount every moment of that first and the next three game drives; however, my words could never do justice to the sights, sounds, and rushes of emotion I experienced. In the same way the photographer in me exerted so much energy to capture the perfect shots, every ounce of me wants to make you feel the emotions of my life this weekend: the pristine beauty of grazing zebra, the quirky habits of a warthog, the unique sounds of 30 elephant splashing and playing at a watering hole while the sun sets behind them. Mostly, I wish for you to comprehend how grateful I am to have these opportunities to exist side by side with the animals of Africa – the animals I once saw in National Geographic and dreamed (but dismissed the possibility) of connecting with in their natural habitat.

Hearing the snort of a rhino as he sleeps cuddled up next to his mate, the rustle of the grass as a wild dog shifts its weight, the trumpet of an elephant as she threatens to charge our jeep for disturbing her family in the middle of their evening stroll, or the menacing growl of two lions as they warn off a hyena who is about to steal their fresh kill under the cover of darkness reminded me how beautiful life is.

Our final game drive began with loads of hope. After the successful sighting of lions and angry elephants the night before, we all desired a finale of Independence Day proportions. The sun was rising in a cloudless sky, the chill of the morning hung in the air, and we all were huddled in our jeeps wrapped in blankets with cameras ready. Johnny, unfortunately still lacking a personality, spotted fresh lion tracks immediately. We were on the hunt. Four hours later – we completed the hunt without a single sighting of lions. It was difficult not to be weighted down with disappointment; however, I worked hard to see the day for what it was: a new kind of game experience – tracking! For those of you who have seen the TV show LOST, I felt like John Locke! In an attempt to remain positive, I look back on that failure of a game drive as a chance to say I have tracked lions!

Many times as I was sitting on the raised seats in the back of the green Land Rover with nothing but air between me and the splendors of the Bush, I found myself asking you all back home: “So what did you do this weekend?” In response to no one, I would say: “Oh nice. Me? I camped with the wilds of Africa.”