As a European I am used to reaching any destination in about two hours or less, except under special circumstances such as a holiday. Driving for several hours through any European country will get you quite a long way for our standards of travel, if not into a new country all together. This type of thinking is sadly lost in Africa. Although I have come to realize that there are in fact many more remote places in South Africa than where I am currently living, it still takes me 45 minutes to reach the nearest supermarket - by Western standards an unbelievably long time as we - and I mean the European "we" - are blessed with some type of 24-hour grocery store or super, mega and hyper-market around ever corner. You barely have to lift your 10-hour-work-day body out of your couch and you will already have reached the shops where, let's face it, you always end up buying things you did not really intend on buying. Out here a trip to the supermarket requires careful planning because due to a lack of personal transportation you need to be well aware of which park vehicle is going into town so you can hitch a ride. That is my situation; the regular staff is only taken into town once a month on the back of a trailer in order to do their (yes, monthly) shopping. Who can imagine only getting groceries - and anything else for that matter - only once a month?
Characteristically I am drifting off again. The point I am trying to make is that going anywhere in Africa will take some time. The previous weekend I decided it would be a good idea to take my recently acquired (rental) car for a spin to the yet-to-be-opened Mokale National Park which is situated near Kimberley - famed for its alluvial diamond deposits and man's insatiable need to dig them up, creating big unsightly holes in the process. Although this park is not open yet for the public my good friend and Klipspringer Trail-companion Marisa knew one of the students doing his practical year at Mokale and she arranged for the both of us to stay at his house in the park. With transportation and accomodation all settled we began our roadtrip early Friday morning as the weak winter sun was failing hopelessly to keep us warm. I would be driving the 600km stretch by myself - with Marisa navigating - but I was actually looking forward to it because I have missed driving a car ever since I arrived in remotest Africa. A car, any car, is truly worth its weight in gold out here due to the seemingly endless roads and generally low incomes which prohibits most people from ever owning one. Taking advantage of having a car, even briefly, is therefore an obligation.
Being on the road for six hours can take you very far in Europe. In South Africa we did not even make it out of the province. Straight roads which disappear in the distance, their end never coming any closer is what drivers face when travelling through the Northern Cape province. Those who shared this road with us seemed as astonished as we were at both the loneliness and beauty of these apparently forgotten paths. Once we encountered a decrepit looking schoolbus on the road ahead of us and as we got closer, being comfortably swamped by black exhaust fumes probably responsible for about 50% of the world's CO2 emissions, we saw that it was packed full of students, most of whom were not even able to sit down due to lack of space. Because at that time the road was taking a slow incline I was unable to pass this smoking relic from the 60's and so we became the object of much amusement from the kids at the back of the bus. At times the smokescreen lifted and we could see their laughing faces. We waved and they waved back enthusiastically. After a while I reached for my camera and Marisa took several pictures of them before I was finally able to pass the bus and return to a world of clean air.
Characteristically I am drifting off again. The point I am trying to make is that going anywhere in Africa will take some time. The previous weekend I decided it would be a good idea to take my recently acquired (rental) car for a spin to the yet-to-be-opened Mokale National Park which is situated near Kimberley - famed for its alluvial diamond deposits and man's insatiable need to dig them up, creating big unsightly holes in the process. Although this park is not open yet for the public my good friend and Klipspringer Trail-companion Marisa knew one of the students doing his practical year at Mokale and she arranged for the both of us to stay at his house in the park. With transportation and accomodation all settled we began our roadtrip early Friday morning as the weak winter sun was failing hopelessly to keep us warm. I would be driving the 600km stretch by myself - with Marisa navigating - but I was actually looking forward to it because I have missed driving a car ever since I arrived in remotest Africa. A car, any car, is truly worth its weight in gold out here due to the seemingly endless roads and generally low incomes which prohibits most people from ever owning one. Taking advantage of having a car, even briefly, is therefore an obligation.
Being on the road for six hours can take you very far in Europe. In South Africa we did not even make it out of the province. Straight roads which disappear in the distance, their end never coming any closer is what drivers face when travelling through the Northern Cape province. Those who shared this road with us seemed as astonished as we were at both the loneliness and beauty of these apparently forgotten paths. Once we encountered a decrepit looking schoolbus on the road ahead of us and as we got closer, being comfortably swamped by black exhaust fumes probably responsible for about 50% of the world's CO2 emissions, we saw that it was packed full of students, most of whom were not even able to sit down due to lack of space. Because at that time the road was taking a slow incline I was unable to pass this smoking relic from the 60's and so we became the object of much amusement from the kids at the back of the bus. At times the smokescreen lifted and we could see their laughing faces. We waved and they waved back enthusiastically. After a while I reached for my camera and Marisa took several pictures of them before I was finally able to pass the bus and return to a world of clean air.
The stretch of road between Upington - our nearest "city" - and Kimberley is by far the most lonely that I have ever driven on. During the four hours that it approximately takes to go from the one city to the other we only passed through two depressing looking villages along the way. The rest of the time we drove past massive cattle farms and forgotten nature reserves, all blending into one because it is almost impossible to tell where one farm ends and the other begins. Marisa and I figured that these villages would be a good opportunity to refill and stock up on some snacks, but as we drove through what was supposedly the centre of town I put my foot down and speeded out of there. People were walking aimlessly along the road, often swaying dangerously from whatever drink or drugs they took, skinny dogs chased a rag which was being swept up by the wind and some fat lady was selling dubiously looking grilled meat which would have scientists guessing which animal(s) it originated from. The entire place made me think that if we happened to break down not only our car would be stripped and sold but that the same would happen to us. In these towns people could vanish and nobody will ever find out what happened to them. My thoughts involutarily wandered to all those Hollywood horror movies where hapless hitchhikers and roadtrippers meet their fates at the end of a meathook in some god-forsaken village in Texas (yes, I was playing the Texas Chainsaw Massacre in my head, couldn't help it).
Fortunately none of that happened and before we knew it the familiar unchanging landscape greeted us once more. Finally we arrived on the outskirts of Kimberley in what can only be described as mild shock: we were faced with an urban landscape to which we had grown completely estranged of. Marisa is from the lively Cape area and I have lived in and visited cities in Europe for as long as I can remember, but after only a few months in the remote Augrabies Falls National Park we already experienced urban culture-shock. Neither of us was keen to explore Kimberley further...it looked daunting and unfamiliar...and after a much needed refill we drove a bit further south towards where the new park is located. One interesting anecdote as we reached Kimberley was that when I had pulled into the petrol station for a refill the attendant told me that they were out of unleaded fuel. Not being used to being confronted with a petrol shortage I stared at the poor chap for a few seconds in disbelief before asking him if he could point me towards another filling station which would have this rare liquid. Eventually the car was full of the black gold once again and our destination was at last in sight. 
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