The story of the missed plane
In my previous post I commented on how I missed my initial bus to Underberg. Well, this basically set the tempo for the remaining days to now.
The following countdown trails from time remaining until my flight to England at 10pm on August 28.
August 25: I had a light snack with Liz in the botanic gardens, and we wandered through gorgeous displays. It's hard to even realize you're adjacent to the massive heights of Durban. Really neat place, and their profits from the tea garden is forwarded to charity. At 2 I crawled into the van that took I and a few others to Underberg. This is where I met Peter, a green chemist from England. Peter and I ended up at the same backpackers, though we had no idea until we saw each other there. At 5, Rodolphe and the Australian Liza picked me up from Spar and to Kotso. I chose to hammock, despite frosty temps that were justified by the coolest shooting star I've seen and a brighter celestial display early morning. I shut my eyes with 72 HOURS to go.
August 26: Getting through Sani Pass and the Drakensburg Mountains (which Tolkien based his LOTR from, be jealous) and into Lesotho in good time was imperative, due mainly to my one day delay. Rodolphe and I left Kotso at 8 AM on foot toward Underberg, which intersects Sani Pass. About 8:30 we were picked up by the guide that had Peter in his passenger seat, and he carried us the remainder kilometers to Underberg. On foot again, eventually a couple picked us up. They were headed exactly where we wanted to go. Actually the only place we were sure of going- the highest bar in Africa at >2900 meters. Sani Pass is beautiful, to put the most common of words to it. Rocky cliffs and vegetation that suggests a climate that is windy and partly dry. So mainly grasses, small succulents, and low growing shrubs. The highest peaks are still speckled with snow. With 58 hours to go, Rodolphe and I had a beer from the highest bar in Africa and planned our route. Oh yeah, and Peter was there as well with his tour group! With 56 HOURS left we wished our final farewell to Peter and set out on foot down the Lesotho road. Our hopes were to catch a ride 50km to Mokhotlong. We only managed 8-exhausting-km, with a 3km hike to Sani Pass Lodge, quietly nestled on a hill (that's me politely saying in BFN) There were high hopes fluttering in my heart for SPL, which were abruptly swatted down at the absence of a single soul at the lodge. At one point the head woman came down and gave us a room, then delivered buckets of water for the toilets, cooking, and such. Rodolphe and I cooked and played my game Evolution via the light of oil lamps, struggling to move our aching legs. We each had a nice big bed to settle in, but it was too cold to sprawl over a large surface area. With 48 HOURS to go, the paraffin heaters slowly died and the high altitude cold crept in.
August 27: By 38 HOURS we had our rumps at the only exit road from the village. By 37 HOURS, a ride in the back of a pick-up to Mokhotlong. This road took us way up into the snowy peaks, about 3500 meter in elevation. Again, beautiful. Our taxi bus to Butha Buthe had almost 30 people cramped for the semi long journey north. Once in Butha Buthe we treated ourselves to Fish n' Chips then asked around about how to get to Joburg. With 30 HOURS to go we got the worst price for quality room ever in Butha Buthe. Not even a shower head or remote control for the 3 television channels. 12 HOURS: "it takes about 4 hours to get to Joburg", "The bus to the border post will leave around 10AM" These were the hopeful phrases that were given to us. We did find a taxi bus at 10 AM, but it failed to leave quickly. They only go when full, especially to this particular driver. What was the worst was that the bus only played one song with two volumes, deafening or off. With 9 HOURS to go we successfully crossed the border, got visa extensions, and plopped onto the Joburg bus. We made it! Or so we thought. Though this was a much bigger and more formal bus, the company still refused to leave without a full bus. Four hours later there were still 3 spots remaining and only 5 HOURS to catch my flight from a 4 hour ride. I attempted to calm down to Elijah Bossenbroek, but it only heightened my awareness to an increased heart rate. In near stress induced tears I went to the pay counter and asked if we could leave without the remaining folks. The woman suggested I pay the 600 Rand for their spots. I asked about taking a taxi and receiving a refund. "No refunds." "Well then what about catching a taxi?" "No, no taxi for you," she stated with her gold tooth reflecting the setting sun. On the bus there were questions I assumed were asking if I had any luck. Sitting down, I embarrassingly started to cry. Then there was some quick chatter amongst all the passengers, and within minutes the driver was on board and said if we all gave 5 Rand to cover the last passenger then he'd leave. He reduced it to 2 and started the engine. Pulling out of the terminal the final passenger arrived and boarded the bus. At roll call, my name was read as 'Mary' and Rodolphe's as 'Flogs.' Four hours to Joburg and 5 HOURS to catch my flight.
That final hour is still a fresh wound. I asked the taxi how much for a fast trip to the airport, 20 Rand. I gave him whatever was left in my pocket. They sat me in yet another taxi bus! Fortunately this driver was more attuned to my urgency, and the ride to Tambo Airport was indeed quite rapid.
Needless to say I didn't make it. And further the info desks were closing so everyone brushed me off when asked about next flights. The waitresses at the Mugg and Bean were incredibly generous to me with advice and kind words. One man I have seen twice checked on me to see if I got through the night safely, and how I was sorting my ticket issues. This morning I met two funny South Africans, and the one told me about his illegal backpacker in Cali him and his wife ran before being busted by the IRS. If only the info lady was as sympathetic...
(-)12 HOURS
The following countdown trails from time remaining until my flight to England at 10pm on August 28.
August 25: I had a light snack with Liz in the botanic gardens, and we wandered through gorgeous displays. It's hard to even realize you're adjacent to the massive heights of Durban. Really neat place, and their profits from the tea garden is forwarded to charity. At 2 I crawled into the van that took I and a few others to Underberg. This is where I met Peter, a green chemist from England. Peter and I ended up at the same backpackers, though we had no idea until we saw each other there. At 5, Rodolphe and the Australian Liza picked me up from Spar and to Kotso. I chose to hammock, despite frosty temps that were justified by the coolest shooting star I've seen and a brighter celestial display early morning. I shut my eyes with 72 HOURS to go.
August 26: Getting through Sani Pass and the Drakensburg Mountains (which Tolkien based his LOTR from, be jealous) and into Lesotho in good time was imperative, due mainly to my one day delay. Rodolphe and I left Kotso at 8 AM on foot toward Underberg, which intersects Sani Pass. About 8:30 we were picked up by the guide that had Peter in his passenger seat, and he carried us the remainder kilometers to Underberg. On foot again, eventually a couple picked us up. They were headed exactly where we wanted to go. Actually the only place we were sure of going- the highest bar in Africa at >2900 meters. Sani Pass is beautiful, to put the most common of words to it. Rocky cliffs and vegetation that suggests a climate that is windy and partly dry. So mainly grasses, small succulents, and low growing shrubs. The highest peaks are still speckled with snow. With 58 hours to go, Rodolphe and I had a beer from the highest bar in Africa and planned our route. Oh yeah, and Peter was there as well with his tour group! With 56 HOURS left we wished our final farewell to Peter and set out on foot down the Lesotho road. Our hopes were to catch a ride 50km to Mokhotlong. We only managed 8-exhausting-km, with a 3km hike to Sani Pass Lodge, quietly nestled on a hill (that's me politely saying in BFN) There were high hopes fluttering in my heart for SPL, which were abruptly swatted down at the absence of a single soul at the lodge. At one point the head woman came down and gave us a room, then delivered buckets of water for the toilets, cooking, and such. Rodolphe and I cooked and played my game Evolution via the light of oil lamps, struggling to move our aching legs. We each had a nice big bed to settle in, but it was too cold to sprawl over a large surface area. With 48 HOURS to go, the paraffin heaters slowly died and the high altitude cold crept in.
August 27: By 38 HOURS we had our rumps at the only exit road from the village. By 37 HOURS, a ride in the back of a pick-up to Mokhotlong. This road took us way up into the snowy peaks, about 3500 meter in elevation. Again, beautiful. Our taxi bus to Butha Buthe had almost 30 people cramped for the semi long journey north. Once in Butha Buthe we treated ourselves to Fish n' Chips then asked around about how to get to Joburg. With 30 HOURS to go we got the worst price for quality room ever in Butha Buthe. Not even a shower head or remote control for the 3 television channels. 12 HOURS: "it takes about 4 hours to get to Joburg", "The bus to the border post will leave around 10AM" These were the hopeful phrases that were given to us. We did find a taxi bus at 10 AM, but it failed to leave quickly. They only go when full, especially to this particular driver. What was the worst was that the bus only played one song with two volumes, deafening or off. With 9 HOURS to go we successfully crossed the border, got visa extensions, and plopped onto the Joburg bus. We made it! Or so we thought. Though this was a much bigger and more formal bus, the company still refused to leave without a full bus. Four hours later there were still 3 spots remaining and only 5 HOURS to catch my flight from a 4 hour ride. I attempted to calm down to Elijah Bossenbroek, but it only heightened my awareness to an increased heart rate. In near stress induced tears I went to the pay counter and asked if we could leave without the remaining folks. The woman suggested I pay the 600 Rand for their spots. I asked about taking a taxi and receiving a refund. "No refunds." "Well then what about catching a taxi?" "No, no taxi for you," she stated with her gold tooth reflecting the setting sun. On the bus there were questions I assumed were asking if I had any luck. Sitting down, I embarrassingly started to cry. Then there was some quick chatter amongst all the passengers, and within minutes the driver was on board and said if we all gave 5 Rand to cover the last passenger then he'd leave. He reduced it to 2 and started the engine. Pulling out of the terminal the final passenger arrived and boarded the bus. At roll call, my name was read as 'Mary' and Rodolphe's as 'Flogs.' Four hours to Joburg and 5 HOURS to catch my flight.
That final hour is still a fresh wound. I asked the taxi how much for a fast trip to the airport, 20 Rand. I gave him whatever was left in my pocket. They sat me in yet another taxi bus! Fortunately this driver was more attuned to my urgency, and the ride to Tambo Airport was indeed quite rapid.
Needless to say I didn't make it. And further the info desks were closing so everyone brushed me off when asked about next flights. The waitresses at the Mugg and Bean were incredibly generous to me with advice and kind words. One man I have seen twice checked on me to see if I got through the night safely, and how I was sorting my ticket issues. This morning I met two funny South Africans, and the one told me about his illegal backpacker in Cali him and his wife ran before being busted by the IRS. If only the info lady was as sympathetic...
(-)12 HOURS
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