Murphy’s Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

10-14 SEPTEMBER 2020

Thursday, 10 September, started out as a glorious, sunny day. Andre and I had breakfast with my old school friend and roommate, Leoni, at the Wimpy in Springbok. It was so lovely to see my friend and to catch up on what was going on in each other’s lives.

But when we got back to our bakkie … NOTHING! Not a squeak; no tjoing-tjoing-tjoing! NOTHING! Marius was as dead as a doornail! I phoned Leoni, who turned around to come and give us a jumpstart. We followed my industrious friend to her place of business (Makarov Scrap) to buy some firewood. After loading the wood, Marius once again showed no sign of life! Now we were seriously worried. Leoni lent Andre her bakkie to take the battery to a Willard Battery Centre in the same industrial park. They tested the battery and concluded that it was right as rain. Andre asked them to clean the terminals, which seemed to do the trick, and finally, just after 12 o’clock, we were on our way to meet the outlaws who had driven ahead to Port Nolloth to set up camp in McDougalls Bay Caravan Park.

But just as we turned left onto the R382 after Steinkopf, Oupie phoned: the caravan park in McDougalls Bay was still closed due to Covid-19! Our only option was to drive straight through to Sendelingsdrift in the Ai-Ais Richtersveld Transfrontier Park. Oupie and Oumie waited for us in the picturesque fisherman’s village of Port Nolloth, where we refuelled and feasted on fish and chips. We followed the R382 further north to Alexander Bay – a once blooming town that seems sad and lifeless now.

After Alexander Bay, we hit the gravel road eastwards along the Orange River. Oupie had assured us that this was a beautiful gravel road which we would easily be able to drive with Miss Daisy. Boy, was he wrong! Poor Miss Daisy shook and rattled on the terrible sinkplaatpad (corrugated road). And Oupie was gunning it with his off-road caravan because we had to get to the park before the gate closed at 6pm. After driving about a third of the way to Sendelingsdrift, Andre decided that enough was enough – I had to phone his parents; we were turning around! Lo and behold – no cell phone reception! I tried and tried, but when we were on top of a little hill, they were in a ditch. Finally, Andre just turned around – we were going back to Springbok! While we were getting out to check up on Miss Daisy, the outlaws had realised that we were no longer behind them and turned around to look for us.

Poor Miss Daisy was all shook up! What a shock to unlock that door and see the chaos inside: most of the cupboard doors were hanging skew; the whole kitchen cupboard unit had come loose and shifted across the floor; the fridge door had escaped from the latch and the contents of the fridge was strewn all over the floor; the floor was a mucky, muddy brown mess of chutney, tomato sauce, melted butter etc. etc. What a sad, sad sight! Weirdly, my Savannah still had the closed cap on, but all the liquid had escaped. To top it all, when Oumie went to fetch containers from their caravan to help us clean up, she misstepped and scraped her leg badly. We felt totally defeated and deflated.

Andre still wanted to return to Springbok, but dusk was setting in. Oupie tried to keep our spirits up and assured us that it wasn’t far to go, only about five more kilometres to Sendelingsdrift – yeah, right, when I checked the map, it was more like sixty! Then I recalled seeing a turn-off to a private campsite, Brandkaros, about three kilometres back. We decided to hobble back and spend the night there, if possible.

Luckily, the campsite was open, and it looked decent. We started with the big clean-up. Andre and Oupie repaired the cupboard doors as best as they could. Once everything was cleaned and packed away again, we realised that the damage was not as bad as it looked initially. To my delight, the freshly washed and sewn cushion covers miraculously did not have even a small spot on them!

While Andre got the fire going, I walked around the campsite like a lunatic with my phone in the air, searching for a cell phone signal, but to no avail. Our son wanted me to proofread an assignment for him, but I could not download it. I eventually managed to download the document in the reception office but struggled to send it back after proofreading it.

Once we were sitting around the campfire, we all began to relax again. Although Andre was still adamant that we would return to Springbok, everything was not such doom and gloom anymore after a good night’s rest. Over breakfast, Oupie put on his best Jannie Jammergat-face (feeling very sorry for himself) and launched a final plea – if we were turning back, they would turn back with us, but it would be such a shame to have come so far and then not to see the Richtersveld; and Oumie loves the Richtersveld so much that they really wanted to show it to us; and they were not getting any younger, so who knows if they would ever be able to come back there in their lifetime. How do you argue with that? Andre spoke to the helpful manager of Brandkaros who consented that we may leave Miss Daisy there for a day or two, with the provision that we will sleep over there for another night when we returned from the Richtersveld. We loaded the caravan’s cushions into the bakkie as a mattress, packed a change of clothes and our toiletries, grabbed our sleeping bags, and off we went to Sendelingsdrift. Andre had to stop on top of each small hill until I could finally find a strong enough signal to send Hannes’ assignment back to him.

We went through the Covid-19 checks at the park’s gate and nearly got the fright of our lives: our temperatures were sky-high! Oumie’s temperature was 39°C! This nearly caused total pandemonium. Luckily, they realised there was something wrong with the thermometer and sent us through to Sendelingsdrift.

We checked in at the informative reception building situated right on the Orange River. They tested our temperatures again, and this time we all passed.

After seeing the quaint zinc chalets on the luscious lawns next to reception, the campsite at Sendelingsdrift was seriously underwhelming – stuck on a piece of gravel no-man’s-land next to a busy, working, diamond mine. And, although I have appreciation for the aesthetic result, the ablution facilities freaked me out – it felt like I had a thousand pairs of creepy-crawly eyes staring at me through the “walls” constructed from stones between wire mesh.

We set up camp, cooked brunch over the fire and then did some exploring. We visited the Potjiespram Rest Camp, about 13km further into the Richtersveld.

The beauty of this landscape is almost surreal: dry and barren, like something from the moon or Mars, but nonetheless unmistakably beautiful.

After seeing how accessible the Orange River was close to Potjiespram, we drove back to our campsite to fetch Andre’s fishing rods. Oupie and Oumie relaxed on their camping chairs with their feet in the river, which was when Oupie’s one flip-flop decided to embark on an epic journey down the Orange River back to Alexander Bay. Stupidly, I had left my swimming costume in Miss Daisy, but that did not prevent me from splashing around in the river in my camisole and undies after an accidental slip on the moss-covered rocks. The fish in the Orange River outwitted Andre while we spent an idyllic, warm afternoon enjoying the tranquillity until the sun set over the Richtersveld.

Back at Sendelingsdrift, we became aware of the mosquitoes while we were relaxing next to the campfire. Andre and I decided to sleep in the back of our bakkie, rather than setting up the small tent that Oupie had. That turned out to be an epic mistake. Usually I would crawl into my sleeping bag and pull it over my head, but this evening was unusually warm, and it just did not cool down. The mozzies were having a field day! They even attacked Andre, who normally seems to be immune to them. Vehicles from the mine driving up and down past the campsite and dogs barking incessantly, only compounded the problem. By about 2am, I had had enough! I grabbed my pillow and jumped into the front seat of the bakkie. After lowering the backrest, I finally fell into a fitful sleep, only to be awoken shortly after that by the violent shaking of the bakkie. It felt as though Andre was jumping up and down at the back, but I was too tired to really care! It turns out that he thought he could stuff my sleeping bag and the other cushion underneath the top door of the canopy to seal off his sleeping space and then kill the few mosquitoes remaining inside. But when he turned on his torch, it looked like the Battle of Britain inside the canopy – he was totally outnumbered by the aerial attack of the enemy. The shaking I had felt, was from his hysterical laughter at the futility of his attempts.

Needless to say, we did not wake up in a good mood the next morning! Andre just wanted to go back to Miss Daisy. But once again, Oupie’s persuasive powers were too strong for him and off we went to De Hoop Rest Camp. We made a quick detour to view the Hand of God before tackling the notorious Akkedis Pass.

Normally, Oupie is a gentle, calm and composed man but when he hooks up that 4×4-caravan, he becomes Sarel van der Merwe or Carlos Sainz! Andre and I watched with trepidation as he tackled those steep inclines and sharp bends at breakneck speeds. Sometimes the caravan barely touched the ground. Andre also enjoyed the challenging drive over the pass.

De Hoop was breathtakingly beautiful! But we did not have much time to take it all in. Just as we entered the informal campsite, the road seemed to fork around some trees. Andre thought the road to the left looked a bit sandy, and steered Marius to the right, just in time to see Oupie’s Fortuner fall flat onto its chassis into the sand!

When Andre asked him if he had not seen the sand, he said, yes, he actually got stuck there before! Luckily, Marius is a beast! Andre engaged the diff-locks and Marius dug in deep to pull out the Fortuner.

Next, we had to decide where to camp. Oupie wanted to camp close to the river under a big tree, right next to that sandy spot. Andre was dubious about that, but Oupie said he could use his remote-control to manoeuvre the caravan with the electric motors attached to the wheels. We could only look on as Oupie parked the caravan about 50 metres away from the intended camping spot and started playing with the remote. You all know what they say about the difference between men and boys – the price of their toys! Well, it was not long before the caravan was buried in the sand! And shortly after that, the Fortuner followed suit! To our amazement, the Fortuner did not have diff-locks! And this time, to Andre’s dismay, Marius could not pull out the Fortuner again. Now we were also stuck!

All the while, the guy in the campsite next to our intended spot had quietly been watching us. He saw that, by this time, Andre was just a little bit stressed out! He brought Andre a glass of Oros to drink to calm him down. We then realised that we had been at school together, just a year apart. His dad (Mr van der Merwe – or Scurvy) had been one of my favourite teachers. Small world!

Andre and Johan then discussed strategy. Thankfully, he had a Toyota Land Cruiser (a proper 4×4) with which he first pulled out our Isuzu and then the Fortuner and caravan.

We, wisely, decided to camp a little bit further away from the river. We still had a spectacular view of the river. After setting up camp, Andre grabbed his fishing gear and I put on board shorts. I enjoyed floating around in the Orange River while Andre fished. It is hard to imagine a more peaceful place on Earth.

By the time the campfire was lit, all tension had disappeared. I looked on in wonder when I saw a firefly for the first time in my life. There were no mosquitoes around, therefore Andre and I decided to sleep in the back of the bakkie again. The ablutions were the same style as those in Sendelingsdrift, so I decided that my swim had cleansed me enough. When the last embers of the fire were dying, Oupie said he had a confession to make, but Andre must not get angry again: that afternoon, when his caravan got stuck the second time, he had forgotten to disengage the electric motors on the wheels, so it was no wonder that Marius struggled! We were so relaxed by this time, that we all just burst out in laughter.

We were sad to pack up and head back to Brandkaros the next morning, but we did not want to exploit the generosity of the camp manager. After braving the Akkedis Pass behind the outlaws again and seeing how many rocks Oupie hit with the caravan, it did not really surprise us when their caravan had a punctured tyre near Sendelingsdrift.

Andre quickly took care of the flat tyre.

After we exited the park, we saw a big thorn tree next to the road. It was the perfect spot for an impromptu picnic to end off our Richtersveld-adventure.

Back at Brandkaros, disaster struck again. Miss Daisy’s electricity had tripped (the reason remains a mystery) and all the meat left over in our freezer had defrosted. Then Oumie realised that their freezer was also not working any more, maybe due to a gas leak after the rough terrain. Their meat had also defrosted! There was no other remedy but to braai it all and then freeze it again. I was just so thankful that nothing was spoilt. The highlight of my day was the amazing shower that I had that evening after avoiding the ablution blocks in the Richtersveld.

The next morning, we had our coffee and rusks at the water pump station for Brandkaros farm next to the Orange River. Andre and Oupie did their best to attract a garrick or two that might have travelled that far up the river. I had more success photographing the vervet monkeys playing in the trees.

Then it was time to say goodbye to Brandkaros – our oasis! It took us almost 90 minutes to crawl the 30km back to Alexander Bay and the safety of the asphalt road. Andre got out of the bakkie and literally kissed the ground when we hit the tar again.

We enjoyed some fish and chips in Port Nolloth again before driving back to Springbok.

We noticed in wonder how fields of wildflowers grew on one side of the road whilst there was only barren, orange soil on the other side.

Back in Springbok, we realised that Murphy had not finished with us yet! When Oumie unlocked their caravan, she saw that latch on the door of their grocery cupboard had come undone, and now their floor was covered in a mucky, muddy mess of sauces and flour. As if that was not enough, their power kept on tripping. Bottles of fizzy cooldrink had leaked out in the drawer underneath their bed and the electrical wiring became wet. Our Captain Invincible (Andre) came to the rescue again and managed to sort out the problem after a bit of a struggle.

It was almost impossible to believe that we left Springbok less than 100 hours ago. So much had happened, and we had experienced so much. This adventure tested us, it tested our relationships, and it tested our equipment. But I would not have missed it for the world. The positives still outshined the negatives by a mile. And now we can only laugh at everything that went wrong. We are definitely going back with the kids!

ANDRE’S ADDENDUM:

Rugged landscapes tend to push the human emotion to its limits. Because of its beauty, but also its harshness, it takes you to the highest of highs, where you stand in absolute awe and amazement of the landscape sketched in front of you, but at the same time it takes you to the depths of despair. And so it was with the Richtersveld. Although it was breathtakingly beautiful, this will not be my lasting memory of this trip. What stood out for me was “love, friendship and comradery”. Considering the almost insurmountable exposure to Murphy’s Law that we experienced, and maybe because of that, we got even closer to one another. I understand even better how privileged I am to have had Sarina as my soulmate for 29 years and to have two loving and caring parents with whom we could share these adventures.