Tag Archives: Greg Bennett

Sally Forth

It takes five days to go the 250km* to Harrismith from Westville. This is because you visit friends along the way. First, there were leaving formalities with amazing friends and supporters Petrea and Louis Lodder, who had put me up and up with me once I actually lost possession of my home 140 days after selling it. Louis made my task of getting rid of my stuff easier, as he’s a great collector and hoarder; Petrea insisted I keep some stuff, so she has a few boxes in storage.

First stop Jenny & Tabs Fyvie in the Tala valley; My luck it was Justin’s 40th and Caitlin had baked a cake! Hayley also arrived and there was a flock of very deja-vu Fyvie-Mandy-looking kids running around. What a busy happy extended family household! Tabs and Jen are hugely experienced travellers and campers, so I got a bit of Kruger Park advice and info, Kruger being one of my intended destinations. We did an inspection of their alucab camper with rooftop tent on a double-cab Landcruiser. I’ll pick their brains again when it comes to solar power, batteries and fridges.

On to the Rosetta Hotel as it was getting late. They were having a St Patricks night – lucky me again. I washed down a huge eisbein with sherry, a large Windhoek draft, a pint of guiness for Oirish luck, and a glass of house red whine – *burp* – then to bed in a huge warm room. In the morning I swallowed their substantial all-in fried breakfast. Ah, health food – I’m a big fan.

To Mandy & Carl Reitz on their farm The Bend. It was too long since I’d been there, so I drove straight past the farm gate and wandered around in the fields before phoning Kai and being told to find a church and turn there. Not the first time I’ve been given advice along those lines.

The Bend is beautifully situated on a big bend of the Tugela river with a sweeping view of the high Drakensberg from the Sentinel to Cathkin Peak. What a fantastic three days I spent there. We laughed a lot thinking of how clever and beautiful and irresistible we were in those far-off alcohol-fueled days when I was happily led astray by these bad influences. The Bend was our mecca for sex drugs n rock n roll and variations on those themes.

I did lotsa farming with Kai in my normal fashion: Sitting in the passenger seat and nodding. Kai knows better than to take farming advice from me – he has had experience of me as a temporary deputy farm manager! He drove me all over his farms and the district and we took walks in the mud – they’ve had good rains. A special sighting was a large grey mongoose – the ichneumon or Egyptian Mongoose – running into cover; too quick for my camera. Been years since I last spotted one.

Durban friends Greg & Roly Bennett had been to their old farm Oppermanskloof on the Geluksburg road to scatter their Mom’s ashes. I met them near Bergville where Roly and I had a great laugh remembering our young n clever daze; – His seconding us on the Dusi canoe marathon, doing a fine job on the first overnight stop, handing us cold beers, deckchairs and a hot meal; sheer luxury! On the second night we couldn’t find him: He had disappeared into the pub leaving us to fend for ourselves; – Water-skiing on Hazelmere dam where I dropped the tow rope as I rose out of the water behind Greg’s 220hp Yamaha outboard; The boat made a tight u-turn and came back to me. When I told them I’d pulled a muscle Roly roared with laughter and said, Swanie you couldn’t have pulled a muscle, you must have pulled a fat! Skinny bastid – he still doesn’t have calf muscles. Roly has since spent many years skippering big yachts for the rich n famous all over the high seas and the islands.

Next through Geluksburg and up Middledale Pass into the Vrystaat.

A lovely welcome from Leon & Elsa Strachan on their farm Nesshurst where again I was shown all over and fed and entertained royally. I forgot to get a pic of their beautiful big guest çottage on the banks of their dam.

I must ID that interesting plant. Then I got to Harrismith to Pierre and Erika du Plessis to stay in their lovely home. I was thoroughly spoiled by Erika, and Aletta and Paul, her two helpers. Me and Louis Nel, Erika’s 90yr-old Dad got on famously; long chats and becoming co-conspirators in stealing chocolate from Erika’s not-so-secret stash.

Yesterday I heard a scream from Aletta in the garden. I rushed out to find she’d been stung by a wasp jealously guarding his spider prey on the lawn!

When I got to Harries, I phoned the Ford agents to book a service. Sure they said and gave me a date in 18 days time! I was amazed. They’re booked up that far ahead? Ford hold their own against Toyota here, unlike the many places where Toyota is almost the only player. My gasp and my groan earned me a special dispensation: They could squeeze me in in just 14 days!

That was a bit embarrassing as far as ‘overstaying your welcome’ goes, but Pierre and Erika were great. I relieved their torture slightly halfway thru my stay by going off on a fascinating trip to Memel for a long weekend.

~~oo0oo~~

* 250km as the vrou cries – or crow flies – a bit further if you insist on taking a meandering route and getting a bit lost ‘on the ground.’ And BTW, people who say ‘on the ground’ – what are they on?

Kosi Bay with a Boat

Kosi Bay is a special place and the campsites are superb. Good birding and great habitat. It’s an estuary system comprising of four lakes – Amanzimnyama (dark waters), Nhlange (reeds), Mpungwini (?) and Makhawulani (boundary? haste?) – the system is connected by meandering channels and fringed wetlands before it runs into the Indian Ocean via a shallow channel and estuary. A boat excursion from Lake Nhlange to Lake Makhawulani is a scenic meander on open water and through reed channels. At the mouth you can snorkel among rocks and along the mangrove banks. The rocks are exposed or covered depending on the amount of sand present at the time.

You can get to the mouth by 4X4, but if you want the full Kosi experience you really need a boat. Fortunately for us, on two of our three trips there in 2002 / 2003 good friend Greg Bennett lent us his rubber dinghy and Yamaha. The freedom this gave us, plus the knowledge of the area provided by a local guide made all the difference.

– Jessie in awe of Dad’s skill –
– to get to the mouth takes a boat ride and a walk . . .
– some walked, some caught a ride . .
– Jess was in her gymnastics phase, so I rigged up an umbrella pole trapeze for her –
– that delightful age when simple little things can be a big adventure! –

JonDinDin joined us. His RAV4 4WD was feeling intimidated by my mighty Kombi 2WD, so we kindly let it do a little work . .

– the lakes can be choppy, they can be glassy –
– freedom! We could picnic on the lake shore, or the beach at the mouth, or at Bangha Nek
– bath time for ole pint-size in the ablution block –

~~~oo0oo~~~

Our first trip was ca,1990, newly married and blissfully chidfree.

Shh – Don’t tell a soul, but when we took the kids in 2002 and 2003 I smuggled our heavy AEG microwave along and plugged it into the plugpoint in the campsite. Made warming up Tom’s bottles so much simpler!

~~oo0oo~~

Oddballs, Then and Now

It has gone wimpish! Actually Oddballs Palm Island Luxury Lodge is still a wonderful, more affordable way to see the Okavango Delta and this post must be taken with a pinch of salt; My tongue is in my cheek;

This is classic “The Good Old Days Was Better” bulldust. As my friend Greg Bennett says, ‘The older we get the better we were.’

When WE went in 1993 (‘the olden daze’) we had to take our own food! And that ain’t easy when there’s a 10kg limit on the Cessna 206’s; because one naturally has to take binoculars, a spotting scope, a tripod, a camera and books:

I exaggerate, these were Jessie’s books for her field guide course last year, but still: weight. So we took very little food. At Oddballs we bought their last potatoes and onions in the supply store, and then we pitched our tent. Not like these wimpish days when the tent is semi-permanent, pitched for you on a wooden deck with shower en-suite!! Here’s THEN and NOW:

  • – re-arranging the furniture outside our bedroom –
  • en-suite bathroom!!? -No-o!!
Yes, actually, Oddballs IS a luxury lodge!
– me in the wonderful communal showers –

Here’s Aitch snoozing inside an old Oddballs Palm Island Luxury Lodge bedroom. And the wimpish new arrangement! Aargh!

Luckily, the rest is still the same! You head out on a mokoro with a guide who really knows his patch: Our guide was Thaba Kamanakao – Delta legend.

OddballsOkavango makoro

You pitch your own tent on an island without anyone else in sight:

OddballsOkavango Squirrel Camp

And you enjoy true wilderness. When you get back, Oddballs really does seem like a Palm Island Luxury Lodge:

Oddballs (5)

There’s a bar, there’s cold beer, gin and tonic and ice. You can order a meal! And – NOWADAYS! – a double bed is made up for you, ya bleedin’ wimps!

Go there NOW! It’s amazing . .

(you can also look here)

~~~oo0oo~~~

Tugela Gorgeous – Boats and Bosoms

Bernie Garcin (Bernie and the Jets), Doug Retief (Doug the Thief), Dave Walker (Lang Dawid) and me at Fig Tree Sandbank campsite, one of KwaZulu Natal’s most beautiful spots.

Three plastic (or ‘tupperware’) Perception Dancers and one Quest in 1984 and 1985 – we went both years. In those early days old-timers would still mock plastics – roto-moulded plastic kayaks – saying ‘tupperware keeps turkeys fresh’ but we knew their toughness, and the joy of not having to schlep fibreglass patch kits along, so we just smiled!

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 get to Ngubevu.  Who fetched us at Jamieson’s Bridge?

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
– she was like –

Four-man Hole was soon after that and I crowded into a Bernie-occupied eddy straight after the drop and punched the nose of my Quest into his ribs. Being Bernie he didn’t even wince, but I knew it had hurt.

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 (remember the days when they wrote stuff on paper?) covering the event for The Natal Mercury 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. She was like . .

Cleavage
– she was like –

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.

Tugela beermaid
– she was like –

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 swa-a-aer

.

Ah! Those wuz the daze!

~~oo0oo~~

We stayed at Figtree Beach Camp again a few years later.

This should actually be on my pre-marriage blog vrystaatconfessions.com

Hy’s nie swaar nie, hy’s my swa-a-aer – he ain’t heavy, he’s my bro-in-law

An Idea Was Born

From: pete swanepoel home
Sent: 16 December 2014
To: Allie Peter; Greg Bennett; Doug Retief;
Subject: Deepdale – Hella Hella

Hey Allie, Greg & Doug
I just posted this story about an Umko trip with Bernie Jamludi The Jet.
Thought you might like to check it out:

Cheers – Pete
PS: I’m licenced to scribble:

poetic bullshit licence.jpg

~~~oo0oo~~~

Hi Pete

Great, and a very personal story to be shared with the “old boys”.

Pete, I have now worked out what you MUST do and that is start putting together an anecdotal account of the famous canoe stories from way back then. We would have to do a chapter on the Tarka Canoe Club and some of the other trips, the Whisky canyon episode etc. etc.

You will have to be the scribe and we can then get the fellows together with a small supply of cold tea in order to refresh memories — remember ‘n man praat altyd die waarheid na ‘n paar doppe !!

Allie

~~~oo0oo~~~

Well, ex-Chairman Allie Peter started a small seed growing; in March 2015 ex-Chairman Charles Mason and I sat down to write the Umko 50 years book. We finished it just before the fiftieth Umko in March 2016, where Rob Davey handed out 300 copies to all who took part in that memorable race.

~~~oo0oo~~~

Fokkop Deluxe

Greg phones: Hey, my son Steve is down from doing research near Kruger Park, can you test his eyes? No prob.

We test, I order specs. Steve is leaving tomorrow early, so I arrange to fetch the specs at the lab and connect with Greg that evening.

I leave work early.

Holy shit! My battery is flat. Flatter than flat. Left the lights on. My big china carguard Dronk Jan Kleynhans from Harrismith “didn’t notice they were on”. He looks after a grand total of about six cars on the roof of our centre, and sits right behind mine. Was snoring his fukken head off I spose!

I check with the BP garage attached to the shopping centre: Can’t help. I check with Battery Centre: Can’t help. I phone the AA. Coming.

I phone the lab: I’ll be late. “No problem, my uncle goes to the funeral parlour downstairs and sits there till 7pm“. Maybe drinking blue top till he feels he can face the wife? “I’ll leave them with him”.

The guardian angel from AA arrives – Automobile Association, altho’ I could have used the other one too. He needs two batteries to kickstart the diesel, then “Hey, you test eyes? I got troublems with my bifocal, no good can you help?“

Get to the lab, but don’t want to switch off, and even I can’t leave the key in the ignition with the engine running while I go in. Not that I wouldn’t, but I feel that would be just TOO embarrassing to explain if the bakkie got whipped. YOU DID WHAT? WHERE? UMHLATUZANA? YOU DOOS!

While I juggle nearer to the funeral parlour door, an ou shuffles up “Buy some DVD’s very good DVD’s. They play, I won’ sell you DVD’s that don’ play, I won’ lie to you“. No thanks. “Hey Larney I’m telling you they good DVD’s! Check: New movies Bollywood this Bollywood that, even white ous movie, one I got“.

No I don’t want, really. He drops the sales pitch and asks “Who you looking for larney?” Terence’s uncle in the funeral parlour. “I know that hou, I’ll go and tell him” Hey thanks.

Comes back with a package with Pete Swanepoel written on it. Thanks a ton. I’m off.

I phone Greg: He says, Come to Mo’s Noodles, I’ll buy you supper. Great idea. I arrange Cecelia to look after the brats.

Halfway thru supper I realise I have forgotten the whole reason for the meeting: Left the specs at home in my briefcase out of which I had grabbed my wallet! FUCK! Turns out it’s no problem, Steve is no longer leaving early, he’s leaving after lunch. Fine.

Next morning I check the specs. A woman’s plastic frame with +2,00’s. Steve’s is a men’s metal frame with +0,75’s. Thank goodness I had forgotten them and didn’t haul them out in the restaurant!

Steve’s were now at work, having taken the usual delivery instead of this flurried, nonsensical ‘special delivery’.

I fetch them and FINALLY deliver them to Greg before lunchtime.

Yussis! WHAT a fokkop. Almost military in its fokkopedness.

~~~oo0oo~~~

50. That’s fifty. Five zero. FIFTY! Eish!

Aitch doesn’t mess around. Suddenly a big marquee was pitched on the front lawn. What’s that for? I ask. We’re having a party, says me wife. Oh. OK. So tip-toe’ing discreetly past my half century mark is not going to happen?

Nope.

So I help the guys lay down a dance floor; and I carry chairs. And I carry chairs. Do we need so many chairs? I ask. Carry chairs, I’m told.

Then a minibus arrives and musical instruments are carried out – a trombone, a saxophone and a guitar – and one of the guys looks familiar. Big, braces, white hair. Mario!? I say / ask in amazement. Yes, says he in an Italian accent. What are you doing here? I ask, onnosel-y. He just smiles. I spose he’s used to that.

Mario Montereggi! When he’s not marshaling his Big Band, he runs a trio, Music Unlimited, for small events: Him on trombone, a guitarist and a saxophonist.

– Mario Montereggi’s trio –

WOW!! Aitch certainly does NOT mess around!

The theme was Africa, but Brauer thought it was Out of Africa, and of course he took it literally. You know how he is . .

– Aitch put it all together – she was much younger’n me –
– the sax player charmed the kids –
– especially TomTom –

Instead of a solemn speech full of half a century of carefully censored praise . .

– Terry and Pete exaggerating –

Terry and Pete sang a song full of scurrilous exaggerations – and duped the rest of the mense into singing the chorus! Everyone knows Billy Joel’s Piano Man tune . .

– Brauerr song PFS 50th –
– hoodwinking everyone into singing along! –
– lucky to have my folks, 77 and 83 present –

Then Jonathan and Aitch said some words and I had to correct everyone and put them straight.

– after Jon and Aitch spoke I had to leap up to defend my reputation –
– good peeps gathered –
– PFS 50th –

~~~oo0oo~~~

onnosel – not clever; dof

mense – good people