"I never knew of a morning in Africa when I woke up that I

was not happy."

-Ernest Hemmingway

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Swaziland

After weeks of planning and failed attempts I found myself on an Intercape travel bus bound for Johannesburg. Fellow explorer Kourtney shared the seat beside me. The drive into Johannesburg took on a very characteristic American feel: paved sidewalks, multi-laned highways, overpasses, sprawling shopping centers, and developed suburbs. I quite missed the dirt roads and huts of Botswana. Downtown Joburg, however, was another matter altogether. Not under any circumstance would I want to find myself stranded in the inner city area after dark. In the handful of minutes it took us to navigate through the bus rank we were bombarded with shouts, pushy and persistent vendors, whistles, and a hip gyrating man. Lovely. Garbage littered the ground and the city smell was overpowering. A stark contrast to the rich, shiny suburbs. I now understand where Johannesburg earns its reputation as one of the most dangerous cities in the world. It was a relief to leave the chaos behind and return to the golden fields and rolling hills of rural South Africa. About an hour outside the Swaziland border we hit a truly unusual landscape. Tree farms. Row upon row of coniferous and deciduous stretching as far as the eye could see along eighty kilometers of road. Mind boggling. On one side of the highway the plateau dropped away into a picturesque valley with smoky blue mountains in the distance. We passed smoothly through the border crossing (apart from a bleeding woman in the line ahead of us) and into Swaziland under cover of darkness. Total trip time from Gaborone to Mbabane: 13 hours and one very sore bottom. We stayed overnight at the Sunset Backpackers. Very friendly staff but grossly overpriced. At first light the following morning we were at the bus rank and managed to squeeze onto a combi headed up the mountain. Our first steps into Malolotja National Park were euphoric. Rolling green hills shouldered into the horizon and a herd of white masked blesbok gamboled through the fields. We sigend in at the lodge (greeted by a very friendly, helpful staff), picked up a map, and set off. The trail cut across windy highveld, down a tree strewn slope, and into a lush rivervalley. At which point things got a bit interesting. The trail petered out, unmaintained, and we found ourselves crashing through dense underbrush and wading through long grass. We were forced to make several river crossings, and just when all seemed lost spotted a faint trail weaving up a neighboring hillside. Only a swamp, thicket, cliff, and belt of trees stood in the way. No match for our determination. We slogged through knee deep mud and nasty brambles, dragged ourselves up a crumbling incline, and literally fought tooth and nail through spiney grass, bamboo, and thorny trees. A jungle machete would have been very useful. Or bulldozer. From the state of our legs it looked as if we'd just fought off a pack of feral cats. With the sun sinking behind the hills we made it to solid ground, trekked up the path and set up camp under a friednly looking tree. Just in the nick of time. The mother of all storms was building in the distance. And our $25 tent was not in the least bit waterproof. We erected a small tarp overhead by securing it to clumps of hardy savannah grass. Barely into our first bites of dinner the storm hit. Raging winds and torrential rain. We had to hold onto the sides of the tent for dear life and squish onto a foam pad as water seeped in. On the upside, we were able to replenish our sad looking water supply by sticking bowls outside. Excellent. When the storm finally quieted we were not to be left in peace, but rather tormented by snuffling animals and a little rodent that seemed determined to make a meal of our tent. A night for the record books. We made it back to the park gates by noon the next day, taking an easy route along the highveld. Wet clothes and sleeping bags joined us on the grass for a lovely nap in the beaming sun. The main campsite was a little paradise with well maintained facilities. Hot showers available. Highly recommended. Thus, it was with great regret that we said goodbye to the friendly Swazis and their beautiful country the following morning. GREAT REGRET. A mere five minutes at the Johannesburg bus rank and I'd already been felt up and groped by a tasteless individual. Not a pleasant experience. The place was absolutely crawling with people. Thankfully we found seats on a late combi out of the city. The seats were so small I was practically sitting on top of Kourtney, but at least we were headed home. Fabulous weekend, fabulous friend, and lasting memories.
“When we reach the mountian summits we leave behind all the things that weigh heavily on our body and our spirit. We leave behind all sense of depression; we feel a new freedom, a great exhilaration of the body no less than the spirit.”    - Jan Christiaan Smuts

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