Coasting the Garden Route & a not so big tree

One of the things we like to do while travelling is stay in different types of accommodation, whether that be hostels, camping, guest houses or hotels - changing things up can present new opportunities and always gives you people from different walks of life to talk to. We arrived from our mammoth drive to Emerald Hill farm just outside a large town called East London. We rocked up in the dark, during load shedding so we didn't see a great deal of the place until the next morning when the sun had come up. The circular lodge we were staying in was rustic but with luxurious furnishings and the bed was the softest and biggest bed we had stayed in for a long while; heaven. A little wander around the farm introduced us to the resident cows who seemed quite interested in my phone, and a pig that was so excited to get a new visitor he ran backwards and forwards endlessly. Maybe he thought food was on its way?

The farm owners Mary and John not only made us feel really welcome, and gave us loads of helpful information but our John even brought us a freshly brewed coffee in the morning. Being looked after when you've been fending for yourselves in unfamiliar surroundings feels really nice.

Mary recommended a local arthouse/deli for food, which turned out to be very popular and the food was delicious. It's brilliant for us coming from the UK that even in quality estblishments, the prices are much much lower than you would pay at home, even treats feel really affordable.

East London is much like any other large town, but more interesting to us because many of the street names stood out to us. There's an Oxford Street, Bond Street, Camden Road and even a Drury Lane! And there are other places that get a nod as well such as Gatwick street, Luton Road and Strand street, but the majority of street names are taken from Nguni heritage (Swazi, Zulu or Xhosa).

We moved on down the coast to Jeffries Bay, knowing that for the next few nights we would be staying on a very prestigious marina in an apartment on the edge of the water. Don't get me wrong, we had the least desirable accommodation in that neck of the woods, but it was still spacious and comfortable and we could sit on the edge of the water and drink a glass of wine and enjoy the surroundings just like anyone else. Their was even a kayak available that Gaz took out to explore the waterways. I had this great idea that I would walk the streets and try to catch glimpses of him paddling, but after almost an hour of walking and no sight of him at all, i gave up. As I went over a bridge back near the apartment, there he was.

We spent an afternoon in St Francis Bay, which because of unpaved roads, a river estuary and no bridge, took much longer to get to than it should have. But it was a lovely small place with that real seaside feel. We made our way to the point, bought takeaway coffee from the cafe by the lighthouse and explored the coastal path and rocks. Afterwards we headed into the village and ended up with amazing seafood in a chilled bistro style eatery. Loving the seafood on this trip; I think Gaz is going to turn into a Calamari ring at this rate because I swear it's all he's eating at the mo.

We also ventured into Jeffries Bay itself, but it wasn't a great place and I felt a bit vulnerable, even down by the beach where there were more people about. We bought an ice cream from the vendor who offered to keep an eye on our car and gaz was pleasantly surprised that it was very like the white icecream he used to have as a child from his local "Savori's" in Levenshulme, Manchester. After, we walked on the sand and passed an older man who said hello to us in Afrikaans. We explained we were English and we then made small talk for a few moments before he waved us goodbye and made a point of thanking us for being so friendly to him. This really struck a chord with me. Was our willingness to stop and chat and smile so unusual to him?

To be honest staying on the marina was a tricky thing for me. I did enjoy it - who wouldn't?! But the road to the marina is flanked by a vast informal township where there are quite clearly hundreds, maybe thousands of people living in poverty, yet only 1km away there is absolute luxury for the privileged few. And despite us spending a very small amount for our accommodation (<£35 pn), we get to stay in that luxury. The huge gulf between the wealthy and the very poor weighs heavy once again.

The next leg of our journey took us along the N2, a major road that appears to skirt the edge of the coastline, but in fact only gives you glimpses of the ocean from time to time. We travelled to the town of George, halfway along the famous 330km Garden Route that stretches from Plettenberg Bay to Mossel Bay. It's a beautiful drive and is full of opportunities to visit local natural attractions and sample more fantastic seafood.

We stopped to stretch our legs at Storms River Bridge, where the main road travels over an incredible gorge. Visitors can park up and walk across the gorge on the walkway atached to the side of the bridge. It's safe and well used, but your heart rate still goes up when a big truck trundles over the bridge at speed and the metal plates you're walking on start to creak. A great FREE activity though; the views are gorgeous (no pun intended *ahem :-)).

Just past the bridge is a big tree. Ok, The Big Tree Tsitsikamma. It's of course in the Tsitsikamma National Park which is a hub for all sorts of adrenalin junkies and their corresponding activities. We paid what seemed like a lot of money to go and see the tree which I'll admit was pretty huge, but we have seen very big trees before, so it didn't wow us like it perhaps should. But the walk in the forest was nice and the little bit of exercise gave us the excuse we needed to seek out some lunch at the local village of Storms River. We stopped at a farm shop where I tried a South African dish called Bobotie which is like their version of Cottage Pie crossed with Moussaka, but much nicer. It's a curry spiced beef mince mix with an egg yoghurt baked top. Genuinely it was delicious and I would have it again in a heartbeat.

In George, in the heart of with Wilderness area and in the shadow of the Outeniqua Mountains, at the Alpine Lodge we stayed in a Poolside Chalet. This was more of a fancy shed that had seen better days, with a kids plunge pool by the front door but we aren't doing this travel fancy, so it was fine. I should have known from Butlins horror stories that anything labelled a 'Chalet' is going to be questionable. George is a big place and a great jumping off point to so many things to see and do in the area.

The Inn didn't have a restaurant so we asked about local recommendations for places to eat and were told that there were a few places up the street. I asked if it was ok to walk around at night outside the Inn grounds (8ft walls and locked gates surround the grounds) and was told that some people had walked it and the owner hadn't been told of any issues before but she didn't want to guarantee anything. On double checking, she was actually talking about a restaurant 130m away. She was definite about the distance because she said she'd measured it! And said if we didn't want to drive it should be fine.

The area seemed perfectly fine. So of course we walked. And we felt perfectly safe and didn't have any issues and didn't see anyone in the 2 minutes we were wandering along.

We were something of a novelty to the people working in the local pub. Apparently, a lot of people fly into Cape Town and even if they do venture along the Garden Route, they stay in big hotels as part of a package, so us staying at the local Inn and eating in the local pub raised their interest levels.

While in George we booked to go on the Power Van, a small motorised van on rails that takes people up into the Outeniqua Mountains on the original railway line (no longer used) that was once the only route in and out of the town over the mountain passes. It was a lovely trip and the weather was glorious which gave us some stunning views of the peaks and the coastline. We went through 7 tunnels and passed a couple of waterfalls, though they were just trickles when we were there and enjoyed the slow and steady persistence of the old power van riding the rails.

We stopped at a picnic spot high up for time to have some lunch and take some photos, before jumping back in, flipping the seats around and heading back down to the town.

An added bonus was the FREE entry to the Railway Museum. I'm not a train enthusiast, but you had to enter the museum to board the Power Van, so we were heading in anyway and we were immediately impressed by the collection of trains and carriages they have. It was a really good museum and a must for anyone remotely interested in trains or engineering. As an engineer in his working life, Gaz was in his element having a snoop round.

Our stay in George was a short one and before we knew it we were back in the car and heading West once again.