I can just imagine the multitude of reasons that have caused people to erect a barrier, wall or fence over the centuries and I can think of a few us. I am also aware that there is probably valid justification for the millions of km of fences that zigzag our country. However on this journey I have become, let’s say rather peeved with all this wire and pole stuff, sometimes quite sharp to the touch and others, let’s say shocking and even on occasions I have felt a bit of vertigo creep in scaling them.

The diamond areas on the west coast started my little spat with the wire, and it has evolved. Early one morning running into the sun near Paternoster, I was suddenly stopped in my tracks as my breath was forced out of my lungs, a burning pain covered my ribs as a taught single strand of wire played chopsticks over my ribs. My forward motion was suddenly halted as the wire reached maximum stretch and flung me back in the direction I had come.

Rounding the Cape I encountered the next menace, trapped taking the wrong path from Llandudno we ran straight into a mesh fence covered with Razor wire – this is hectic stuff. Luckily there was a tree overhanging the fence and managed to pull my self clear of it, getting away with a minor butt nick, over and on we went.

There has also been the odd, sensitive or closed area, these have the really big double trouble fences, But somehow without realising it the next thing we know we are inside looking for a way out, normally with haste as we try to convince the not so understanding personnel to believe us, that we just happened to end up inside by accident.
The coastal air seems to play havoc on fencing and we are constantly tripped up by pieces of rusty discarded barbed wire as the fences are repaired and the old wire is just left to rust in the bush. But there is a new fenced area that is the most prevalent now, the conservancy or private nature reserve. Most of the coast consists of this, and the fences are more frequent and higher, some areas they are 2.5m high, fenced with Bonox fencing which has postcard size squares and you cant climb through but only over.

It was one of these fences that now lay between us and rest day, or a detour and a few hours extra before the coveted rest. There is only one way now and that’s over, so up I went. The fence was fairly old, but high. The wire was a bit rusty, but still tightly strung. Up I went block by block. Getting to the top, it was a bit scary, perched on this thin wire wobbling about 3 meters above the sandstone and thorn bushes. As I swung my leg over  to descend, the added weight was just too much for the rusty wire and down I came, all I could hear was a high pitched twang as my foot broke through each rusty strand picking up momentum, spraying bits of rust and wire all over . About 11 strands later I finally hit a solid one. This gave my body time to catch up with itself and re-launch into some crazy twisted missile trough the gaping hole in the fence and straight into a floral wreath of spring thorn flowers, but to my added delight I was stopped short from my wreath, as I hung dangling from the fence by my left leg, Braam stepped through the gap, using me as a ramp, but thanking me for being so considerate.

The rain had been relentless the rocks now really slippery, there was a slivery moist layer  glistening in the beam of my headlamp , the lichen and moss had come alive with all the moisture, oozing slippery droplets, running down the crevices and onto the rocky bed. The waves were crashing into the rocks behind me as the tide slowly returned, each set of waves reclaiming a few inches of the shoreline. The rocks were formed in weird sharp ridges running parallel to the shore, each line of rock about ½ a meter high with narrow gaps between each ridge. We were hopping from ridge to ridge trying to get around the buttress before the tide made it impossible. As in the darkness it was just too dangerous along the cliff top.

The going was slow, balancing on the sharp rocky points, getting my balance and then lurching forward to the next silhouetted ridge in the beam of my light. Tired and frustrated I nervously moved on through the darkness, just ahead was Braam struggling with the same situation. The next gap was a bit bigger, I pushed off with my back foot, swinging my body forward and lunged into the darkness,  my foot pushed out forward reaching for the next rock. As it landed, I felt a crunch under my shoe as the sharp rock edge splintered and gave way. With this my foot slid off and down the side of the rock, my full weight now transferred onto it, down I went forcing my leg into the narrow gap between the rocky spines.

Hitting the bottom a shudder went through my body as I felt my jaw smack closed and this burning sensation as my teeth sunk into my tongue and then the salty taste of fresh blood. The excruciating pain raced up my leg sending explosive pulses from a twisted foot now squashed between the rocks and trapped. Exploding in salvoes in my head and with this came vivid images of absolute destruction of my foot and the numbing realization of what if! It felt as if my toes were folded over each other. Braam hearing the shout turned and came to my assistance. We first tried to pull my leg out, but the foot was well jammed. Braam then managed to get his hiking pole under my shoe and leaver it straight that I could untie my running shoe. We then jointly pulled on my leg and managed to pry it out of my shoe and again with the use of the hiking pole we levered the shoe out of the crevasse. I feel if I had in any way over balanced, I would have snapped my ankle
After a break letting my foot dangle in the ice cold sea, and the throbbing became bearable I slowly put my shoe back on and hobbled off into the night                

It’s been over six weeks on the road, weeks that have just evaporated along with the km of coastline. Although its winter, we have not escaped the harsh African sun, there is the winter reminder, a constant peppering of rain and the undertone of cold that seems to creep into our bones. A journey that has been physical and mentally draining in many ways, but I know the difficult part starts now as our bodies tire. If there is one thing that I take from this journey to date it’s the people of the shore line. Because of this trip I have been drawn into many a community, many a home and had a peek into the lives of fellow South Africans I would normally not have met.

Its heart warming to see what lies at the core of our country. There is a solid rock foundation of caring giving concerned people , networks of society that go unnoticed, just churning away making sure that those around them are looked after. Day after day, giving of their time, un-thanked and unpaid but in the interest of their fellow countrymen.
Children that I have met along the coast, out there fundraising for us, helping make our journey count. Elderly folk who hardly get by on their meagre earnings, but still, contributing, communities standing together and contributing.  
 It gives me such hope and inspiration to see this, that no matter how the odds are stacked there is such possitivity out there and a willingness to make it better. I can’t hide from the fact that there is a massive amount to be done and not all is going well, that I have experienced first hand as well.

I really feel that there is a slow steady cohesion of people of all walks of life, finding a common cause to make this country a better place
I believe that each one of us can make a small difference and collectively we can change a lot. – “To all of you unsung heroes, thank you!”    
 
Positivism is not just living for today, but thinking about and looking forward to what tomorrow has to offer.           

It’s been a relentless build of day after day hammering away at the km’s. The weeks have now become months and I can feel that my body is taking longer to recover. The terrain has also become less hospitable, from flat coastline to rolling hills and now ruggered cliff tops and deep eroded valleys. Coastal tracks have become narrow paths hugging the sides of cliffs, drops of a few hundred meters fall away below you, small game scurrying in the bush has been replaced by gulls and rock pigeons flying next to you. Some areas have become so overgrown with vegetation or others torn apart by massive storm erosion that we have been forced to follow the roads on some days.

Descending into Natures Valley, one feels transcended in time as you become enveloped in the ancient indigenous forest, yellowwoods hundreds of years old , standing proud with tufts of beard moss hanging in its branches. Creepers cascade from tree tops tens of meters into the forest below. Imagine the centuries that have passed and the changes that have gone on around as these giant trees have slowly pushed skywards and now stand tall surveying the forest below.
The sun was just climbing above the horizon, elbowing its way through the clouds as we walked the beach to cross the mouth of the Sout River. Stripping we waded through the tidal channel and up the steep rock face at the end of the Otter trail, a challenge to be completed by nightfall.

The trail consists of mountain after mountain interlinked by deep valleys, carefully hidden under the canopy of the indigenous forest. Soft velvet green landscape to the eye, but scratch under that surface and a rocky rollercoaster unfolds to which there is no turning back... With no time to wait for the correct tide to do our river crossings swimming was the only way. The longer the day dragged the steeper the mountains became and with this, every last bit of beauty seemed to be wrung out of the day, the drips of beauty then turned into rain. Down it came. Initially just a light patter on the canopy above, a soothing sound as we toiled on in the humidity. The leaves above seemed to no longer be able to hold out, finally bending under the weight of the water and through it came, torrents of rain soaking us to the bone, hour after hour we pushed on through the black mud as the rain just seemed to endlessly fall as the forest came alive with the deafening sound of rain frogs croaking as the marked there territory, looking for a mate.

The drone of the rain on leaves then changed slightly as a gentle breeze slowly wound its way through the undergrowth, just enough to blow the trapped heat from between the layers of clothing and the chill set in. Slippery under foot, steep rocky slopes, tired legs and then the fading light, what more could one ask for – we then lost the trail.