I got a message as I rolled out of the extremely comfortable bed, in the rather plush hotel we managed to bag ourselves in Cape Town.
The message was from my legs.
It said “YOU RAN 35, COUNT ‘EM, 35 HOT AND HILLY MILES YESTERDAY!!””
I sat down again.
After Nicky’s enforced lay off from training and her late decision to run the equally hilly and hot half marathon, she too was fully aware of the previous days efforts.
Luckily we hadn’t planned a really early start to get to a bus tour which was undoubtedly going to involve lots of hiking……
Oh hang on…..
A lovely early breakfast (the hotel was, er, well posh I’m telling you, look forward to a ‘reverse snobbery’ blog…) and then an Uber. Oh, we became masters of the Uber on this trip after the first proper taxi we got in shook the dust out of our purse….. we didn’t really walk anywhere, apparently it’s not advisable to stroll around Cape Town’s suburbs looking like a tourist!
Once aboard the lovely air conditioned bus we were treated to a ride packed with astonishing views (of both oceans as the day went on) and fascinating facts delivered with eloquence and wit by our guide. We were lucky to have a proud Cape Townian, Fred, as our pack leader for the day. Witty, charming, informed and informative and he knew when to leave quiet gaps to help us absorb the enormity and astonishing beauty of this amazing place.
Arriving at Cape Point, I’m sure I heard Nicky mumble her encouraging mantra “On Man the **** up!” as I hobbled down the stairs of the bus and gulped at the track winding up to the lighthouse…….
After a coffee sat literally between two oceans, we set off for the lighthouse. As I’ve regularly pointed out, we’re not massively ‘people’ people. But we sucked it up and waited our turn for the best photograph points. What a place.
From there we tracked back down to join Fred. “Right,” said Fred – “we’re going to trek down there” pointing at the amazing looking trail leading down to Cape Of Good Hope. My quads were REALLY pleased to see that it was a downhill trek.
Ouch, oooo, ow, ahhhh, as we marched on. I felt a little humbled as we struggled to keep up with our Captain Enthusiastic leader once he’d let on that he too had completed the 35 miles of the Two Oceans Marathon the previous day.
He is a mere child though. And I did beat him. (just saying). But then he did successfully photobomb our selfies (see above!)
Another popular photo opportunity at Africa’s most South Westerly point, although most had arrived there by driving, we took our shots and just breathed in the fabulous fresh Atlantic breeze and marvelled at the seals and other wild life on show.
The famous Boulders Bay was our next stop. A beautiful little cove which was packed with penguins. And people. Slightly surreal seeing such a mass of these ridiculously cute, flightless birds in the wild, whilst standing on a boardwalk, as if in a zoo, with about a million people!
But cute? Don’t even start………
Taking the mountain road back before a blast along the freeway to the city we managed to bag the front seats……….
Yet another incredible day of adventure and discovery shared. We garbled and giggled our way through another fabulous meal, like naughty street kids who’d snuck into a public school dinner!
The enormous and ridiculously comfortable mattress accepted our exhausted souls into a deep slumber, ready for the next day’s adventure……………
Hang on tight for the next instalment and don’t forget the first two episodes of The Cape Town Chronicles…
So, it is with some trepidation that I commence typing a little piece I scribbled on the overnight flight home. During which I repeatedly thought to myself, how DO people sleep on airplanes?!?
Three Little Birds courtesy of these cool guys 
Jogging in the early morning sun 
Art? 
“Ya Mon…. Boat trip today??” 
Nicky will be looking to gate crash international group photos this year too!
Nicky claims (without any foundation, I hasten to add) that I am prone to being more ‘high brow’ in my book choice. We actually both enjoy being entertained and challenged and are as happy to be lightly titillated by a read as we are to have our beliefs, or realities suspended.
I guess sometimes our heroes really ARE ghosts. We’ve all lost people too early, before they had chance to realise their own dreams and potentials. Equally, I imagine we’ve all drawn inspiration from those lost to us and, maybe, felt the urge to push a little bit harder to realise OUR dreams and find OUR capabilities whilst we are still blessed with the good fortune of health to do so.
Grief top-trumps is a game I find objectionable, the idea that there is a scale of tragedy worthy of different levels of sympathy is, quite frankly, unsavoury at best. And whilst I’m airing my gggrrrrs, what is this social media phenomenon of being asked to ‘prove’ you care by ‘liking’ or ‘sharing’ somebody else’s story? I don’t need to prove I’ve read all of your post in order to care. And yes I DO know how tragic cancer can be. Believe me. I know. tragic, cruel, relentless, indiscriminate, debilitating, destructive, painful and despicable. Yup.
It’s a breath of fresh air to read some books. The Road To Sparta by Dean Karnazes…. Now, I don’t know how many losses or tragedies have befallen the Karnazes family but I do know that he tragically lost his sister just as she turned 18 (the details of which are covered in his first book). This latest tome is a journey into his family history (him being of Greek parentage) and deep into the history of the Greek nation and the people therein.
Packing Our Trunks 