The first week in South Africa I spent with my sister and her family. I needed to acclimate myself, overcome jet lag and plan a rudimentary cycling route for the next 5 weeks. It was a very pleasant week spent in large part reacquainting myself with Jana, Mark and Angela, and getting to know Jimmy. Most evenings were spent in their company. Mark and I played innumerable games of chess, most of which I lost.

Saturday, 17^th January

Left SFO at 6:30pm bound for London on British Airways. The flight itself was uneventful but because it was completely packed it wasn't all that pleasant. Since I don't sleep well on airplanes I always fly on the aisle row, which allows me to periodically walk, stretch and otherwise break the monotony of sitting for extended periods of time.

Sunday, 18^th January

After a 10-hour flight, arrived in London at 12:30pm. It was at this point that I realized the time blunder I had made. I had told my sister that I would be in Cape Town at 8:30am on Sunday, when in fact it wouldn't be until Monday, Cape Town time, before I would be arriving. I called my sister who had fortunately figured out my mistake. I walked around the airport for a while and then took a 4-hour nap in one of the travelers' sleeping lounges. I wish more international airport had such facilities; long haul flights and long layovers sure are more bearable this way. Left LHR at 6:35pm bound for Cape Town on British Airways.

Monday, 19^th January

After a 13-hour flight, I arrived in Cape Town at 8:30am. The sun was already bright, and not a cloud was in the sky … ah, the glorious Southern African summer. The Cape Town airport is a refreshing mixture of modern and classic. Missing are the sterile "passenger exit tunnels" and in their place are rollup stairs. Imagine that; exiting passengers being expected to walk on the tarmac in the sunshine. My sister and her husband were waiting for me as I made my way through customs. I hadn't seen her for 17 years and certainly hadn't had an adult conversation with her for at least as long. Though we'd started getting reacquainted via email about 6 months prior to our meeting, it was really nice to finally see her and Jimmy in the flesh; I had a family again.

The 10-km drive from the airport to Jana's house in Pinelands took us past the Cape Flats townships of Guguletu, Langa, Crossroads and Mitchell's Plain situated in the triangle formed by the ocean, the N2 freeway and Athlone. I have to admit that I was morbidly fascinated. As far as the eye could see spread squatter shacks, filling all available space. The government would periodically, with prior warning, "clear" these squatter camps but they would, seemingly overnight, be rebuilt and reoccupied. These camps played an active role as the nuclei of the anti-apartheid movements, and remain as reminders of the extreme challenges facing the new South Africa.

This day was the last day of the Christmas holidays and Mark and Angela were home preparing for their first day of school. This was to be Angela's last year in high school and the seniority, which came with it, added to the excitement. The last time I saw them was 4 years ago and both had grown and matured quite nicely.

I spent the rest of the day walking around in the Victoria and Alfred waterfront, a recent addition to Cape Town's tourist attractions. It boasts an aquarium featuring "the two oceans" exhibit (False Bay and Table Bay with their different water temperatures feature different ecosystems), a BMW museum, a movie theatre, a choice of trendy restaurants and of course the beautiful view of Table Mountain which, incidentally, is floodlit at night at taxpayers expense.

At dinner that night I got to know Jimmy a little better. I felt right at home in the somewhat chaotic but very relaxed environment where teasing is the norm and taking oneself too seriously is considered a character flaw and is exploited by other family members. Jimmy, an unapologetic smoker, is a guy with a wonderful sense of humor -- "Damn passive smokers; why don't they buy their own cigarettes?"

Tuesday, 20^th January

The metropolitan Cape Town train system is fairly well developed, efficient and well utilized. Although criminal activity has been reported on night trains, with a little common sense one should have no problems. Certainly, at R6 for a roundtrip first-class ticket from Pinelands to Cape Town it's the best transportation value around. Although apartheid as a governmental tool has been relegated to the ash-heap of history, economic apartheid is very much a part of every day life in South Africa. This is very much in evidence in the racial distribution of third-class train usage. I hopped on an "all third-class" train from Langa to Cape Town and counted not one other white person on the whole train.

The downtown train station is located about 4 blocks from the historical Castle, my first stop. The Castle, a five pointed stone fortress dating back to the 1700s, has had military significance throughout Cape Town history, though with new South Africa's relaxation of offensive military tensions it is now more of a historical curiosity than anything else. Directly east of the Castle is the Grand Parade, a former military parade ground now used as a downtown parking lot. It was while walking across this ground that I almost got mugged. Temporarily neglecting to pay attention to my surroundings, and particularly to the group of young teenage males loitering around the statue in the center of the Parade, I ended up walking straight towards this group. Three of them immediately surrounded me and attempted to "befriend" me, a move my sleepy mind finally recognized as a prelude to a mugging. Fortunately, I managed to escape the encirclement without harm and hurriedly moved away from the Parade.

The St. George's mall and adjoining squares are mandatory stops on any walking tour of Cape Town. Lunch was spent sucking down a few Castle lagers and watching the world go by. Continuing northwest one passes through Bo-Kaap, the historical "Malay" quarter of Cape Town, originally settled by descendants of Moslem slaves. The term Malay is however a misnomer and was mistakenly used to describe all Cape Moslems; these peoples' ancestors originated in Indonesia and southern India, not Malaysia. Continuing up to Kloofnek one passed through the charming districts of Gardens and Tamboeskloof. From Kloofnek, which forms the saddle between Table Mountain and Lion's head, one walks northeast toward Signal Hill. Though only 300m high, it offers a good view of Green Point and Sea Point to the west, and downtown Cape Town to the east.

Wednesday, 21^st January

In the morning I removed my trusty bike from its box and reassembled it. I was amazed that despite the appearance of the box, the bike was quite unharmed. From Pinelands, it’s about 4 miles to downtown Cape Town along Voortrekker Rd., a rather busy, narrow surface street lined with car dealerships and industrial warehouses. I was initially a little nervous about riding on the left side of the road. I’d learned to drive in the US and given that I’ve been riding/driving for 16 years now, on the right hand side of the road, I was concerned that the wiring of my reflexes would cause an inappropriate reaction in an emergency. I was surprised however that after about an hour I was quite comfortable riding on the left, and looking over my right shoulder became quite natural.

From downtown I rode up along Buitengracht St. and up Kloofnek, which on a bike seemed a lot steeper than when I walked up it the day before. From the top of Kloofnek, a quick descent takes one into Camp’s Bay. Camp’s Bay is on the Atlantic Ocean side of the Peninsula and consequently the water is quite cold. However, it is one of the prettiest bays near Cape Town and that combined with it’s proximity to the downtown business district explains the concentration of expensive houses. From here one also has a beautiful view of the backside of Table Mountain and Lion’s Head, and the Twelve Apostles stretching south.

The road south of Camp’s Bay winds along the narrow, coastal strip between water and mountains, which rise rapidly out of the ocean. US riders familiar with California HWY 1 between Carmel and Big Sur can draw a mental picture similar to this road. The ocean is blue and deep and inviting. About 6 miles south is the town a Hout Bay, a fishing village and former center of the timber industry. From Hout Bay I turned east and climbed up to Constantia Neck, a saddle in the ridge extending from the southern end of Table Mountain to Chapman’s Peak. A quick descent takes one into Constantia and eventually to Plumstead, which was my goal for today.

When my family immigrated to South Africa in 1970, my parents bought a house in Plumstead and I wanted to reacquaint myself with the neighborhood where I grew up. It wasn’t hard to orient myself and find my old middle and high schools. My old house was just a short distance from there, but when I turned down what should have been a familiar street nothing was familiar. The new owners of the houses had obviously done remodeling and wall building, but the most profound impact on me was that everything seemed smaller and the street narrower. I don’t know what the clinical term for this phenomenon is but I’m sure it can simply be explained by the observer having grown.

From Plumstead, a series of connecting, busy roads takes one back to Pinelands. Since I was riding in rush hour traffic, I was the only one moving. Passing the Newlands public swimming pool brought back a lot of happy memories from my childhood. I had spent many a summer weekend there, diving off the high diving board into the 15-foot deep pool and generally doing what young boys do on warm summer days with not a care in the world.

That evening, I cooked for the family. This turned out quite well; Mark helped and Jana was happy that she didn’t have to cook. Later I called up an old school buddy of mine, Trevor, who also lives in Pinelands. I had coffee with him but since he was in the middle of taking exams and had a newborn at home, he unfortunately couldn’t spend more time with me.

Thursday, 22^nd January

The Cape Town train station is a busy and exciting place. Beside the obvious function, it plays the role of indoor shopping mall and outside flea market. Connected to the station is the Sanlam Golden Acre, a huge underground shopping mall. However, shopping was not on my mind today; I was planning to climb Lion’s Head. Climbing Lion’s Head takes very little preparation and is one of those outings one can do spontaneously. The peak is at 600m and from Kloofnek to the top is about 3 miles. It seemed so easy that I didn’t bother to put on proper walking shoes and hiked in my sandals instead, something I would regret later that evening when two huge blisters developed on my right foot.

All but the last half-mile is easy walking. The last 100 vertical meters of the mountain is typical of the Cape Town geology - vertical granite and sandstone cliffs. The trail winds around the head and finally challenges the hiker with a couple of "technical" pitches assisted by chains. The top offers a panoramic view of Cape Town, with the Twelve Apostles and Hout Bay to the south, Table Mountain and downtown Cape Town to the east, the harbor, Table Bay and Robben Island to the north, and Camps Bay and Clifton to the west. The air was still and warm, not a cloud was in the sky and the ocean was a deep azure. It was a perfect place to take a nap.

On the train back to Pinelands, I overheard a couple of coloreds speaking in the distinctive Kaap-Afrikaans dialect. The conversation is quick, animated and the accent and vocabulary humorous. And can these people curse. As Jimmy later told me, "You haven’t been kaked out until you’ve been kaked out by a colored."

Friday, 23^rd January

The day dawned under a cloud cover, and rain started falling on me halfway into a bike ride to Cape Town. I spent the rest of the morning in an espresso bar on the St. George’s mall, watching the street vendors on Kerk Plein. By the time I got back home, Angela and Mark had returned from school and I spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV with Angela. The SABC broadcasts on 4 channels, and the programming seems to consist primarily of talk and game shows and soap-operas. There is an additional pay channel that broadcasts American sitcoms. Imagine that, having to PAY for the crap one seems most evenings on US TV.

Saturday, 24^th February

After breakfast Jana, Jimmy, Mark and I threw our mountain bikes into the "combi" and drove out to Paarl. There we were joined by Jimmy’s friend Gert and his son Deon. Deon had just finished his studies at Stellenbosch University, and both he and his dad were good cyclists.

We started our ride near the university in Stellenbosch and rode into the hills above the town. From there we enjoyed an abbreviated tour of the wine country, ending up in the Franschhoek Forest Preserve. This turned out to be somewhat of a misnomer since the forests in the preserve were really eucalyptus and pine plantations and clear-cut sections were interspersed with mature ones. Nevertheless it was a rewarding mountain bike ride with a refreshing dip in a cool river half way.
 
 

Homemade mussel stew was on the menu for dinner, so after lunch we headed out to Blouwberg Strand. Blouwberg Strand is famous for being the site of the most photographed view of Table Mountain and Table Bay. It’s also very windy.

Sunday, 25^th February

Jana, Jimmy and Mark are members of the Western Province Pedal Power Association that organizes club rides every weekend. The actual organizers are usual charity organizations which get the bulk of the entrance fees. The WPPPA is famous for organizing the "Argus Cycle Tour of Cape Town", a 110km event which typically draws 30,000 riders from around the world. It’s a timed event and one’s "Argus time" determines one’s club standing and starting position on the year’s weekend club rides.

Unlike US club sponsored century rides, where the goal is to complete the distance, eat and have a good time, the WPPPA rides are shorter events – typically 60-70km – and the goal is to "ride like hell". The latter doesn’t really match my riding style. When we arrived at the start of the Stellenbosch Medallion Mushroom ride that morning I wasn’t planning on beating anyone’s time and was instead intending on riding gently and taking in the beautiful wine country scenery. However, it wasn’t long before I was sprinting out the saddle uphill, tucking in for screaming descents and joining others in pace lines. The last 15 kms I spent in a huge peleton of "elite" riders. The pack must have been moving at 25-30 MPH and I was having a trouble keeping from "spinning out" since the gearing on my mountain bike wasn’t meant for high speeds.

This was my first experience with a fast moving peleton and it was quite exhilarating. Initially I wasn’t accepted and someone actually tried to bump me out of the pack. I nevertheless hung on and was grudgingly accepted after it became apparent that this "stubborn twit on a mountain bike" could and would keep up with the pack which was constantly accelerating in order to "drop" the stragglers. Riding, with mere inches separating ones handlebars from those of ones neighbor, at 25 MPH makes one really aware of ones bike-handling skills. The slightest mistake could bring down the whole pack.

I finished the 69km ride in 1 hour and 58 minutes, and spent the rest of the day "vegging" with Jana and Jimmy.

Copyright 1998, Radek Aster