Trans the Kei & Over the Uzumvubu: Pt. II

This is the second part of this story. If you missed part 1 you can read it here.

It was 11AM by the time we reached Grahamstown. We’d hoofed it hard all morning and were ready for a break. We stopped for a draught beer and a pizza at the infamous Rat and Parrot. I was too hungry to take any photos. We met up with the second half of our contingent during this time, adding another four members to our cross-country crew.

Ye age-olde institution. DISCLAIMER: This is not my pic. I pulled it from TripAdvisor.

I don’t really remember the trip from Grahamstown to Cintsa because I was python by the combination of beer and Pizza beers at the Rat. Steve and Salty manned the wheel while I shifted in and out of consciousness. I remember waking up on a bumpy dirt road to the Buccaneers Backpackers. We got settled in and went to meet up with the rest of our homies.

We’d been joined by James, Nina, Sabrina and Sue. We all headed down to the beach with a guitar and a few six packs. We were met with a pristine sunshine coast beach: on the edge of the Transkei, welcoming us to our adventure.

I only took two photos, because things got increasingly messy after I took them.

Next thing I knew, it was the next morning and was time for the real Transkei experience. Before arriving at Mdumbi, you’re treated to a leaisurely drive through velvety fields of grass that carpet the rolling hills. When the Indian Ocean pops into view, it’s a visual orgasm where blue meets green. This is something you get used to on the Transkei route, but never take for granted. The raw beauty of undeveloped land meeting sea is one of the great treasures of the Wild Coast.

Where the grass meets the sand <3

We arrived at the Backpackers, which was a simple but super-comfortable set-up. We pitched our tents and milled about for a bit: soaking up our new surroundings.

Salty bared his bum for the sake of a good picture.

But we’d come for sand, sea and sun. So we headed down the winding dirt road towards the beach. Each corner offered more breathtaking views of Mdumbi.

There's a view you can lose yourself in.

Other people were few and far between, it felt like we had the whole place to ourselves.

Take me back. Please.

Spilling across the golden sand and into the ocean was the Mdumbi River. It was lined with high hills, thick forest and mystical mangroves. We discovered that there was a kayaking facility at the backpackers and didn’t hesitate to take a tour up river, winding through the valley and admiring the plethora of bird and animal life.

Those hobbit feet of mine caught some good sun on this day.

It was probably around this time that the mythos of Bear Shark reared its ugly head. I believe it was Salty that first uttered the name, planting the idea deep in the back of everybody's minds. From here on out, every time a toe was dipped into the water, or a suggestion of swimming was made, there was a hushed whisper of omnipotent Bear Shark and his ever-present evil. We can only imagine the physical manifestation of Bear Shark, but this is the best that google can give us.

I'm not sure what dark soul conjured these imaginings up, but they're certainly on a par with what we were thinking....

En route back to the kayak base, our guide took us into the Mangrove island where we rested for a bit. It was a good opportunity for a group pic (of everyone except me).

After all this time, I've forgotten the name of our delightful guide (this was before I started taking a notebook with me wherever I go).

Before we left the mangroves, our guide caught us two MASSIVE red crabs, which we cooked up for lunch that afternoon. In retrospect this was very irresponsible tourism that I regret very much. It’s no good pillaging the natural resources of a mangrove forest for a small snack. It makes me feel only slightly better that I know better today.

RIP.

It was a hazy five days spent at Mdumbi. If you hadn’t realized this already, there was a fair amount of drinking going down on this trip. On our last night at the Backpackers, we polished off the last of our alcoholic resources that were supposed to last us another week or so. Lucky for us, we had a stop off in Umtata (worst town in the world) where we could stock up on supplies.

We had another reason for stopping in Umtata. During the time that my car had been parked at the backpackers, the front-right tyre had been very slowly losing air. When it came time to leave, it was flat as a tack. Our savior came in the form of a friendly neighboring camper (whose name eludes me). He removed the tyre, pumped it up and searched for a leak. Alas, he couldn’t find it, so he concluded it would be very small and we would probably make it to Umtata without having to get on our spare wheel.

His estimations were right. We got there just fine and had the tyre fixed for R13. We were so happy to have the problem sorted that we threw a few Black Labels in as payment for the plug.

We then descended back into the Wild Coast. We stopped several times en route to our next campsite to admire the rural views.

These views scream Transkei for me. I've been in love with them since I first visited in the early 90's.

We followed the Mboyti River all the way down to the ocean, where our campsite lay. We had another five days to kill here. The surroundings were even more spectacular than Mdumbi, and we did our best to soak it all in before we had to resume our journey eastwards.

To Be Continued...

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