It all started at a New Year’s Eve concert on a farm on top of Sir Lowry’s Pass … many, many moons ago [whoa – stop that - I sound like an Indian oracle…]
Anyway – that’s where we were – my friend and I. Welcoming in the New Year in style, with a cellar cask of wine, a bonfire of smokes and hours of head-banging live bands. After two or three days (no one was counting) of jumping in the river in our clothes to get clean, and sleeping on the grass next to our car (yip – we’d gone for the evening and stayed, and stayed) we were filthy, exhausted and ready to head on home.
All the way back my friend raved about some exciting stud she had scored … which was good news, because she had just broken up with her long-term boyfriend, and I thought it was great that she’d jumped right back into the saddle, so to speak.
A bath and nap later, and my friend was itching to go and find Concert-man. Back then – before the rinderpest – there were no such things a cellphones (our funkiest techno-shit was a walkman) so all we had was the knowledge that he and his buds had headed up the coast towards J-Bay looking for some gnarly surf. No problem – only 800km of coastline to cruise …
We packed a change of underwear (seriously prepared this time), a bag of potatoes and a bottle of chutney (all the supplies we could rustle up), bummed ten bucks off my folks and another ten bucks off her gran … and off we went in her little, rusted Renault 5. Luckily we had copious amount of wine – my friend worked in the industry and the recent launch of wine in 300ml boxes meant easy transport and easy access – as well as some serious sounds on our walkman (one earphone each).
In high spirits we raced towards our destination – stopping off at every known surf spot to look out for possible sightings (although we were not altogether clear as to what vehicle they were in – but we figured we’d recognise them somehow … or her pheromones would alert her once we were in reasonable proximity).
After dark we pulled into J-Bay and slowly circled the quiet town. Nothing was open, we were seriously hungry (and starting to feel hung-over from all the cheap wine we’d fuelled our journey with) and the raw potatoes did not seem too appealing – even with chutney. We also had nowhere to sleep. I guess we had counted on finding a bunch of happy campers with a combie and tent along with Concert-Surfer-Dude.
We parked on the beach front and sneaked into the campsite across the road to use their bathrooms. After another pile of cigarettes and a few more cartons of wine, we sadly switched off our funky music and fell asleep sitting in the front seats of the car.
Blazing sun and chirpy early-morning surfer slang woke us up. Grommets surrounded our car and jeered as we peeled our faces off the plastic-backed seats, wiped trails of sleep-spit from our chins and pried open our mascara-smudged eyes. Blinking resentfully like two hibernating racoons in a spotlight, we surveyed our surroundings and realised that our quarry was nowhere in sight.
Having surreptitiously freshened up in the campsite ablution block, my friend decided that it was time to phone her ex-boyfriend. So we tracked down and old tikkie-box and she blubbed into the phone for about 15 minutes, until she was convinced that he was actually the guy for her. So we turned around and drove straight back home…
To some our quest may seem like an epic fail – but for me, it has always been one of my favourite memories, captivating that care-free, crazy time in my life.
May 27, 2011 at 4:07 pm |
There is nothing to beat a complete lack of planning. That is how I like to roll.
Spontenaity (sp??) delivers the perfect memories.
May 27, 2011 at 4:50 pm |
Absolutely – best parties ever have been spur-of-the-moment …
May 28, 2011 at 6:17 pm |
Ha ha – reminds me very much of the hitchhiking to Hermanus days!
May 29, 2011 at 11:45 pm |
OMG how fabulous!!! HUGE smile and moisty eyes at the same time! Best New Year, Best Friend and Best River action ever (although not necessarily referring to the the swimming with clothes on hygiene thing…lol). Not only were we spontaneous that New Year but if you remember we had also just done a fairly big trip from Plett/Knysna leaving behind unappreciative men – you on the back of a bike with your suitcase and me hitching a truck all the way back to Cape Town and then onto the Rock Concert for New Year. What a brilliant flashback. Also remember when leaving a few days later (the New Year thing) in Tony D panelvan, we were travelling behind a bakkie whose occupants in the back were clearly enjoying their 2nd New Year celebrations and expressed themselves in a way that encouraged Tony to use his windscreen wipers. Love it darling xxx miss you madly
May 30, 2011 at 7:05 am |
Oh word – had forgotten about the “special rain” – gross!! And you have brought back a load of other memories that I will have to put into my “blog pool”!! Love you too xxx
September 8, 2011 at 4:17 pm |
Oh this is so
stunning! I can just imagine…