Tugela Gorge – Boats & Bosoms

Fig tree campsite Kayak Tripping Tugela (5)

Bernie Garcin, Doug Retief, Dave Walker and me at Fig Tree Sandbank campsite.

Figtree campsite (see 1990 when we stayed here again - on Andre's rafting trip)  Kayak Tripping Tugela (3)

Three plastic (or “tupperware”) Perception Dancers and one Quest in 1984 and 1985 – we went both years. At the time Greg Bennett was sponsoring (and competing in) a motorised rubber duck race down the Tugela (sacrilege!!). In ’84 he had Jerome Truran as crew, in ’85 Rip Kirby.

We used Greg’s bakkie to Ngubevu.  Who fetched us at Jamieson’s Bridge?

I remember punching Bernie in the ribs with the nose of my huge Perception Quest as I joined him in an eddy just below Four Man Hole.

On one of the trips bare-breasted maidens flashed us. We saw a Landrover parked on a hill on the left bank, then saw some swimmers in the river, who ducked down as they saw us. As we passed two of the girls popped up their lily-white tits to huge approval. They were like this except the water was brown. And they had no cozzies on:

Tugela boob2

The current swept us past them, but the mammaries lingered on.

Overnight at the duck race camp the sponsors Lion Lager thought we were competitors so their beautiful beer hostesses liberally plied us with ale. OK, lager. When they ran out I rummaged in the boats and found wine papsaks we used for flotation and squeezed out the dregs. Karen the gorgeous, voluptuous newspaper reporter covering the event held out her glass and as I dispensed I gave her the patter: “A good wine. Not a great wine, but a good wine, with a delicate bouquet”. She shook her mug impatiently and said endearingly “I know fuckall about flowers, I’m in it for the alcohol” and I fell deeply in love. My kinda dreamboat lady in shape and attitude. I remember her like this:

Cleavage

Dave too, was smitten as one of the comely lager hostesses joined him in his laager and treated him to sincere sleeping bag hospitality above and beyond the call of duty, ending the session with a farewell flash of delightful décolletage as she kissed him goodbye in the morning.

She was like . .

Tugela beermaid

As we drifted downstream we sang:

The landlord had a daughter fair – parlez vous

The landlord had a daughter fair – parlez vous

The landlord had a daughter fair

Lily-white tits and golden hair

Inky Pinky parlez vous

We sang to the resident goats:
I ain’t afraid of no goats

We sang (to the tune of He Aint Heavy . . . ):

Hy’s nie swaar nie, hy’s my swaer

Ah! Those wuz the daze!

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