Out and About in Knysna

Happy Thanksgiving to all our dear friends and family in the US!!

Knysna is a totally charming, seaside town with something for everyone.  Eating, shopping, hiking, boating, sightseeing, zip lining, kloofing - kloofing?  A kloof is a high, rocky outcropping, and one of the more popular 'extreme' sports is abseiling down a kloof.  (The same adrenelin junkies who do this also dive off the highest bungee jump in the world.)

We've had unseasonably cold and wet weather while here and scrambled out as soon as the sun made an appearance.  One of our first destinations - the Knysna Heads, a picture postcard setting.

The open sea between the two 'heads' is a very perilous passage; nonetheless, a local businessman and timber baron, George Rex, persuaded the Crown that it should be declared an official port in the late 1700's, all the better to export the seemingly endless supply of gorgeous timber in the nearby virgin forest.

And George Rex and Knysna are inextricably linked and a bit of a mystery.  Is George Rex, the illegitimate son of an English king, or is George Rex (sometimes spelled 'Rix'), simply the clever son of a London distiller who was in the right place at the right time and, as a result, became incredibly successful?  Whichever way you lean,  George Rex is generally given credit for setting the stage for today's Knysna.

Legend . . . George Rex's purported papa was George III; his mama a commoner and a Quaker named Hannah Lightfoot.  Needless to say, this union and the three children of same didn't go over well at court.  Their marriage was annulled, and George III was subsequently married off to some European princess.  His children by Hannah were reportedly pensioned off, never to be heard from again.  The End.  Not quite.

Their oldest child, George Rex, although never acknowledged as having any royal blood, was somehow appointed to a lovely sinecure in the Cape Colony - of which Knysna is a distant part - and pensioned off at the princely sum of 1,000 British pounds a year!  What we do know, from contemporaneous accounts, is that old George's arrival in Knysna was accompanied with more pomp and circumstance and carriages and 'stuff' than anyone in this remote corner of the world had ever seen.  He never (re)married, had four children by a local black woman and, after her death, had eleven more children by one of her daughters.  Incredibly, despite all these offspring, not one survived to carry on the family name.  On his deathbed, George Rex is reputed to have said 'Never marry.  Never declare any legitimate heirs.'

Whatever the truth is, George Rex put Knysna on the map for all time, and it is now one of the 'must see' places on the Garden Route.  It's easy to see why.  The town is chock-a-block full of restaurants, nifty little shops, waterfront dining options, and drop dead views.

We're standing on the East Head; opposite us a national park, accessible only by ferry and tram (you can just make out the ribbon of track in the distance).  An all-day excursion is a ferry to the park, being hauled up the hill by tram, and then hiking down to be retrieved by the ferry.  Watching these treacherous currents, we all marvel that any ship was able to make it into the calm waters of the Knysna Lagoon.  A lot of them didn't, including the very first one which had to be towed and beached to clear the passage.  We hike down for an up close look at the harbor entrance.  Impressive!

And then back to the waterfront for something to eat and drink!

I think Chicago was the second most distant point from the Knysna waterfront (more than halfway around the globe!).
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We're here on 'Remembrance Sunday' which for you non-Brits is another time to celebrate 'Poppy Day', the official commemoration of the lives lost during World War I.  Officially, Poppy Day is recognized on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month; here in south Africa it's been moved a bit to Sunday, November 13th.  Tim and I have had our 'God' time at the local Catholic Church and are due to meet Debbie and Paul downtown.  Walking down the main drag, we see that it's been cordoned off, and there's not a vehicle in sight.  When we ask the local gendarmes what's happening, we are convinced their response is  'We're clearing the streets of squatters or Scottish.'  Huh?

It turns out we are headed right for the Remembrance Day ceremony complete with a local marching band and a group of young soldiers.

Following a short ceremony and the requisite mournful bagpipers, the marching band and troops paraded smartly up and down the main street (which was devoid of squatters and Scottish), and the ceremony was complete.

Tomorrow we're off to Oudsthoorn, the ostrich capital of South Africa!

Pliny on Elephants

If you've followed us from the first travel blog in India you know that I am fascinated by elephants.  We are in luck, as Knysna has a most wonderful elephant park just minutes out of town.  Here you can feed and socialize with them, walk into the bush with them, ride them on a safari, and even get married with them as honored guests.  We opt for the 'feed and socialize' ticket (it's a cold and blustery day) and spend a few minutes in the display prior to being called for our 11 a.m. tour.

I especially liked this poster in the waiting area and was intrigued to see when and by whom it was written.

Another display has an elephant foot with a post stating that during the great predations of these giants, their feet were taken as souvenirs and used as footstools!  I didn't know that an elephant's height is three times the circumference their foot.

How Knysna Elephant Park came into being . . . over 20 years ago, a local couple adopted two abandoned/orphaned elephants and named them Harry and Sally.  They had no idea what they were doing but were impelled to take in these two homeless, unwanted elephants.  Their care and love has been repaid many times over.  Since then, they've adopted a few more elephants, had several births, and, sadly, lost a couple.  Today this is a first class research facility which employs a number of locals, and allows folks like us to have an up close and very personal experience with elephants.

With our treat bucket (fruits and veggies) in hand, we climb on to the tram for a short ride to the open field where the herd is waiting.  Our guide instructs us as to the proper way to hand feed them.  Actually it's much like feeding a horse except that instead of the velvety muzzle scrabbling against your outstretched palm, it is the tip of their trunk sucking up treats like a vacuum.  We learn that their trunk has over 1,000 muscles and is capable of an incredible variety of actions including communicating pleasure or distress.

After they had emptied our treat buckets, the herd moved to an open grassy area where we were encouraged to touch them, stroke them and, of course, have our pictures taken with them!

Their hide is incredibly thick and tough but can detect a fly landing on it.  An adult African elephant can weigh up to 4.5 tons (yes, that's 9,000 pounds); newborns weigh around 500 pounds.

I couldn't help but wonder - why do elephants have toenails??

This big female is the grande dame of the herd and, oddly, was infertile (she also had only one tusk which is quite unusual).  Her 'sister' (on the left) has had one calf, and this elderly female is the official auntie; were anything to happen to the calf's mama, she would assume the maternal role.

Had it been a sunny, warm day I probably would have spent hours out there with them.  However, it was nasty and cold, and soon the next tour group appeared, and the elephants knew the drill - they started moving to the feeding line, awaiting the next bearers of goodie buckets.

I know there is a a school of thought that says this is artificial, staged, and the elephants are conditioned to 'perform' for visitors.  And, yes, that's probably all true but my feeling is 'so what!' They are safe, well cared for, and thoroughly loved.  This wasn't always the case.

Knysna is a charming coastal village surrounded by magnificent old growth forest that came perilously close to being eradicated.  To the early settlers, the forest seemed boundless, and the only thing that stood in the way of all that logging was, you guessed it, a herd of over 2,000 elephants.  Early loggers actually lived in hollowed out tree trunks, fitted them with barred 'doors' to protect themselves from elephants!

The Knysna forest elephants are a unique subset of African elephants and evolved with significantly larger eyes to see in the dark, dense forest.  Once logging got underway, eliminating the elephants was essential.  One elephant hunter boasted that he killed over 200 elephants on one hunt.  Now there are none left, except for the ones who live at this park.  Legend has it that there is one aged female still lurking in the woods, but she hasn't been spotted for years.  So, yes, this may be artificial but I don't give a hoot; these wondrous creatures are protected, loved, and appreciated by thousands of visitors every year, including us.  And for that I'm so very grateful!

A Township Tour and a Look at the Other South Africa

To date, almost all of our interactions have been with the 10% or less of the South African population that is white. Not what we had hoped for but not all that surprising.  However, now that we're in Knysna we have several choices for township tours.  We opt for Emzini (means 'my home' in Xhosa) which, although slightly more expensive, is renowned for its contributions to the township community.  The tour company is jointly owned by Ella and Penny who met over 14 years ago while attending the same church.

They run two tours a day, maximum nine people at a time, and Ella has enlisted the help of her son, Tandi (Xhosa for 'love'), for help as a tour guide.  It is a very popular tour, and reservations are essential.  We meet Penny at the Knysna waterfront at 10 a.m. on a gorgeous sunny day (our first in a while) and quickly fill the van and head up the hill to the township with Tandi as our guide. A little background . . .

In the early 20th century, the national government decreed, as part of their apartheid policy, that all blacks were to be resettled into townships that were within walking distance of the nearest town (there was a 'no man's land' to ensure the separation was enforced).  'Walking distance' is a stretch as the walking distance from this township into the center of Knysna, where most residents work, is several kilometers - downhill in the morning and a grueling uphill at the end of the workday. There is a jitney-type bus that costs 9 rand (about 60 cents) each way.  Monthly wages are between 1300 and 2000 rand for the average worker who works at a restaurant or guesthouse.

View from the township into Knysna.

It's not entirely clear what people were supposed to do for housing back then, but until Nelson Mandela's release from prison and his subsequent rise to national power in the early 1990's, these were at best shanty towns - at worst, totally unfit for human habitation.  The most famous township in South Africa, and one that became known worldwide as ground zero of the apartheid resistance movement, was Soweto, just outside Johannesburg.

One of the sweeping reforms Mr. Mandela instituted was the Reconstruction and Redevelopment Program (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reconstruction_and_Development_Programme) which mandated that every black South African citizen was entitled to a safe, clean home complete with running water, power, and sewer lines.  Now, over 20 years on, the government continues to try and make good on this promise.  Given that the population of South Africa is around 55 million people and approximately 80% of them are black (9% are colored and the remaining white, Indian and Asian), to say this is a daunting proposition is a gross understatement.  Some cities are doing better than others; things in Cape Town are less than encouraging http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2016/09/south-africa-housing-crisis-remnant-apartheid-160929094237631.html

But here in Knysna, it seems to be working and working rather well.  There are row upon row of newly-constructed brick dwellings, all with the same size plot of land, all identical in shape and layout - two bedrooms, kitchen/common room and indoor bathroom (about 40sq meters in all).

We learn from Tandi that this is a multi-step process:  first comes the installation of temporary dwellings (small wooden structures); next is moving the occupants into the temporary dwellings and razing the old shanties.  Once the new home is completed, the family is moved from the temporary structure into their new home.  The temporary dwellings are then relocated to the next rehousing area, and the process is repeated.

We see all three types of housing on our tour.  The terraced plots on the left above are awaiting new construction.  Between 25,000 and 30,000 people live in this township which is comprised of a number of neighborhoods (including one Rasta 'hood which is weed central and worships Haile Selassie).  The township is self-governed; each neighborhood (about 20 or so) has a council representative who reports to the mayor and together they are responsible for the whole township.

Most blacks live in townships; they were forced to until the end of apartheid.  With end of this abhorrent policy, this was their community, this was their world, this was the only way of life they had ever known.  Many blacks who have been successful have stayed in the townships, built rather grand homes complete with garages!  A few blacks have moved 'into town' but no whites live in townships.  And, interestingly, another group, known as 'coloureds' (mixed race) have their own townships; they do not live in black townships.

A township is pretty much a self-contained economic unit.  We pass hairdressers, tiny grocery stores, take-away food stands, and ad hoc taxi services.  We stop at a 'mend and make shoes' shop, owned by a very dynamic and articulate young man (Joe De Cobbler) who emigrated from Nigeria years ago, married a South African woman and they now operate this shop out of a shipping container.

This enterprising lady was barbecuing chicken feet which we are told is a favorite snack.  In the background is one of 'the big five' township animals - the other four are dogs, pigs, goats and horses.

The highlight of our tour was a visit to a pre-school center where we were surrounded by smiling, happy little ones.  They serenaded us with several choruses of 'If You're Happy and You Know It'.

Emzini tours operates 'safe houses' for people who are the victims of domestic abuse.  Currently, they have two - one has four young women who are studying for admission to university; the other houses several women and their children.  Alcohol abuse is a big problem here, and attempts to start AA have been unsuccessful.  There are three primary schools and two high schools; education is free but parents must purchase school uniforms (used and free are available).  In addition, there is an immaculate and inviting library and a fire house.

We pass several churches which Tandi tells us are well-attended and supported.  He hastens to add that many of the African traditions are alive and well and coexist with Christianity.  One of them is the ancient rite of circumcision.  At the age of 18, a young man is circumcised and immediately sent into the bush with the admonition that he is not to drink any water for a week. Before departing, he gives away all his clothes, is dressed entirely in white, and given the blessing of the community elders.  At week's end, he returns to the community where he is welcomed with a lavish celebration of his manhood along with a whole new set of clothes. Any young man who chooses not to undergo this ritual is forever banned or treated as 'less than' by the community.  It's pretty much a 'must do'.

Our last stop is for tea and cookies while being serenaded by Tandi and four others, three of whom provide drumming accompaniment.  Their voices blend seamlessly, effortlessly, fill the room and overflow into the yard and down the street.  Absolutely beautiful!

We also get a brief language lesson in Xhosa which includes the unique clicks made at the back of the throat and produce a surprisingly strong and unique sound.  Finally, we get a turn at drumming, complete with a lesson.

We're both struck by the lack of animosity or bitterness at the abysmal treatment of blacks over the years. Tandi looks at us and says matter-of-factly - 'We're a forgiving people.  Carrying anger in your heart harms you far more than the one you're angry with.'  I couldn't imagine a better thought on which to end this most remarkable day.

Thank you Emzini Tours - Penny, Ella, Tandi - and everyone who so graciously welcomed us into their lives today!

http://www.emzinitours.co.za/

Exotic Birds, A Big Duh 'Big Tree', and a Surprise Meeting of the Neighbors

The Crags is definitely a tourist stop and boasts Monkey Land, Birds of Eden, and a Snake Sanctuary.  Okay, that last one got our attention and we ask our host, Toni, about snakes.  She calmly responds that, 'yes, we have them' but quickly assures us they don't come inside and, for the most part, are not to be feared.  For the most part??? Think we'll stick with birds for our wildlife outing!

Turns out to be a wonderful choice and we spend a delightful couple of hours on a gorgeous sunny day in a huge bird sanctuary with the most colorful birds we're ever seen.  This beauty greets us as soon as we walk through the plastic curtain entrance (no air-lock entry here).  Try as I might to identify this in our 'Identification Guide' I was unsuccessful.  Dubbed him the 'welcome bird'.

Not long after we meet our first golden pheasant - an absolute beauty!

This sanctuary is so well-designed; the birds are everywhere.  There are feeding stations all along the elevated walkways, and the birds are so habituated to people it's like we're not even there.

We saw a number of these - I checked off a Livingston toluca (think I got it right) - and they were quite happy to pose.  This sanctuary was built in 2005 at a cost of 9 million rand and used unskilled workers from the local township of Kurland (a township is an entirely black community, and the workers then had skills that they were able to use in the construction industry).  The sanctuary covers 2.1 hectares and is home to over 200 species of birds.

The original covering was supported by a mesh netting which weighed 80 tons.  A few years later, fearing the weight of the netting was stressing the supporting beams, the original covering was replaced with one made out of stainless steel weighing a mere 8 tons.  A shot of one of those beams and what our ID guide tells us is a von der Decken's hornbill - a male since he has a yellow beak tip and black cutting edge.

Many of these birds were actually abandoned domestic pets - parrots and such - that people no longer wanted or couldn't care for (think of the African grey that can live for upwards of 80 years and frequently pines away if their owner dies or can no longer care for them).  We couldn't help but think this determined fellow was once domesticated.  He seemed to be making a bid for going home with Paul by repeatedly trying to untie his shoelaces!

Another toluca. . . 

A green-napped lorikeet at a feeding station . . . 

And then the water birds which were a visual delight.  A scarlet ibis seemed to be posing for us.

The extravagantly-colored Mandarin duck.

A flamingo who appears to be doing the Narcissus thing . . .

And a great grey heron.

One of the suspension bridges over the tropical regions below.

And the last, but perhaps the most fun, observation was this nesting tree within feet of the waterside cafe where we ended our visit with coffee and a sweet.  We watched the parent birds dealing with what were obviously two adolescents.  One of teens actually took off while we were there, made it to the water's edge and then looked longingly back at the nesting tree as if to say 'what do I do now?'

Our other nature excursion was on the Titsitkamma National Park trail - a short hike to 'the Big Tree'. When we got there, the four of us looked at each other and went 'well duh'.  Yes, it's old, kinda big, not identified as to type, and after you've seen really big trees in the California redwood forest, this was a big ho hum.  What do you think?

The real treat was still in store.  Headed up the narrow country road to our charming cottage in the woods, Paul abruptly brakes, and the four of us are positively gobsmacked.  For a second or two, we are so stunned we can't believe what we are seeing:  a baboon family group!  Yes, this is a rural setting, but it is not a game park.  There are several lodgings close together, a number of private homes, a horse facility, and a lot of people just out and about, walking their dogs, and doing stuff that country people do. 

And these fellow primates are just out, lounging about, doing what baboons do (no dog walking).

A couple of young ones hangin' in the branches of a tree . . . 

And this big fella makes his way across the road right in front of us!!

Absolutely amazing!!!

I'll close this post with a bird-related item; there were several of these on our cottage porch, and the birds loved them. 

This has to be the most ingenious bird feeder we've ever seen.  Definitely having a go at making one of these when we get home.

Jackass Penguins, Not So Scary Bridges, and the Highest Bungee Jump in the World!

From Addo we're off to The Crags, our first stop on The Garden Route, so named for its spectacular scenery, lush vegetation, and dramatic views of the Indian Ocean.  It's astonishing how quickly the terrain and vegetation morph from high, dusty, barren desert into lush, green, old-growth forest!

First stop, Cape St. Francis, the site of a penguin rehabilitation and rescue center and our first view of the Indian Ocean.

The African Penguin is distinctive for its chest markings which are a unique fingerprint for every single penguin; no two are alike.  There are about 30 permanent residents of the center, all considered too infirm to be released back into the wild.

They are also known as the jackass penguin for the braying noise they make when communicating.  Thanks to overfishing and habitat destruction, their numbers have decreased to the point where they are now on the endangered species list.

The sanctuary is located directly off a very rocky coastline that includes this impressive lighthouse, circa late-1880's, that still appears to be a functioning warning beacon.

Once tucked into our charming cottage hideaway at The Crags, we're off to Nature's Valley, a gorgeous beach with stunning surroundings and almost no visitors. These sign boards tell of the fossils of ancient creatures found here ('Fossil Jurassic Park') as well as the marine life, including several species of whale which make their way past here twice a year. Another board also specifies the exact number and size of fish that may be taken from the adjacent estuarine waters on a daily basis.

No surfers in sight, but we did spot a couple of very hardy folk who were swimming! Not these two, however.

This is gorgeous, dramatic scenery, reminiscent for us of Hawaii.

One of the 'must see/must do' excursions is the Storms River Mouth and the hike to the suspension bridges!  There's just a bit of devilment in Deb's eyes as she observes the expressions on our faces when she casually observes 'It's a 4km hike to the bridges (and 4km back).'  What she fails to include is that it's uphill both ways!!  Oh well, there's always the challenge of her and Paul having to retrieve us somewhere mid-trek.

I'm delighted to report that a) we didn't expire or collapse on the up or back trek; b) it was spectacularly worthwhile and c) (drum roll please) I've taken another step in overcoming my fear of heights!

There are actually three suspension bridges, and seen from above they are very impressive.  There is a BIG notice saying that no more than 25 people are allowed on the bridge at one time, and my only slightly-terrified brain is asking 'What size people are you talking here? 10 children and 15 average size adults or 25 people topping the scales at 300 lbs each.'  It appears that the latter capacity is far from being reached so we venture out . . .

Miracle of miracles, we are the only two people on this second bridge when Paul snaps this shot!

And then there's Deb - the casual, oh-so-cool, bridge crosser!  Interesting trick of the eye - the bridge looks like is's almost resting on the water when, in fact, it's many meters above it.

View from the other side:  just to prove we actually went all the way across!

And my 'Ive now overcome my fear of heights on two continents grin'!

Paul is rewarded for his stellar photo-documentation by a close-up of his 'must see' animal once we make it back to stable ground - the dassie.  Never heard of it?  Neither had we but he is quick to inform us that this wee creature has more in common with the elephant than any other mammal.  Huh?  The male dassie, like the male elephant, has internal testicles - who knew??

It's a terribly cute and cuddly looking fellow who isn't the least bit shy (looks like he hasn't missed too many meals either).

Storm's River Mouth has the most spectacular campground and a dazzling abundance of this rugged, coastal scenery.

Just one more stop on our way back to the cottage, this one at the world's highest bungee jump - the bridge over the Bloukrans River!  And, no, even with my new found confidence, defying my fear of heights on jiggly bridges, this isn't even on my radar (there isn't radar big enough to get me to do this!)

This is a heavily-trafficked bridge and right in the middle you can just make out two darker areas. That's where the jumpers are instructed, suited up, led to the edge of the platform and told to 'Jump!'  (If it were me, they'd have to slug me and push me over the edge!).  Oh and did I mention that you have to walk from right where we're standing - about 1 km - out to the jump site on a covered walkway within feet of the bridge traffic!!

We know this because we meet a jumper-in-waiting, a young man from Calcutta who is all smiles awaiting his escort out to the bridge.

The official photographer lets us peek through his telephoto lens and we watch as the young man goes off the edge.  Again, I am delighted to report that he not only survived the jump but pronounced it 'awesome'.  The jumper appears to drop and drop and drop (far more than the advertised 213 meters). On the second bounce a retriever person is lowered swiftly to the jumper, grabs him or her, rights them (you jump head first), and a winch brings them both quickly back up.  Record number of jumps in one day by one person: 102.  Heaviest jumper: a 400 lb Argentinian man (they had to improvise two cords/harnesses).  Oldest person to jump: a 96 year-old man.  How often they change out the jumper cables - whenever they break!  Tim's joke :)

This qualifies as a totally 'top day'!!