Hmm… well, that sense of thankfulness with which yesterday ended lasted about an hour this morning. Then came an unpleasant incident, which spoilt the following hour or two, though I can see the funny side now.
At any point in the last four days I might have reported that in South Africa speed limits are advisory rather than mandatory. That was my clear impression. When I picked up the hire car on Tuesday, I spent the first few hours observing the limits scrupulously… but watching everything else whizz by. As I relaxed into the driving conditions, I conformed more and more to custom as I was seeing it, and became increasingly careless of the limits. Today I find that the limits are thoroughly, drastically enforceable…
It was entirely my own fault. I was speeding – no doubt about it. And I got pulled over by a traffic cop. Perhaps SA cops are all fierce, or perhaps it’s just him, or perhaps he just got out of bed the wrong side, or (and this is what I really think) perhaps he was playing a practised game. Having flagged me down as he was not just entitled but obliged to do, he shouted at me in broken English what I took to mean, ‘I have power to arrest you. You can be arrested!’. If his intention was to scare me, he succeeded. I admit to speeding, but I wasn’t driving that recklessly and I couldn’t see how it was an arrestable offence. He demanded my driving licence and walked off with it to talk to a colleague, leaving me feeling very little and heavy-hearted. When he came back, he said, ‘Don’t worry. Not arrested. You pay the fine. 750 rand. You pay this?’. £75 more or less was a bit more than I’d have expected, but it sure felt like a relief at that point. So I said, ‘Yes, I’ll pay. But I’m not carrying that much cash.’. ‘How much you have?’, he said. I fished out my wallet and took out all the notes – it amounted to about £40. Whereupon he said, ‘You give me that’; and when I did, he said, ‘No you go. Go’. So I did. As I drove away, of course, I became more and more aware of the irregularity. No paperwork. And since when is the size of the fine determined by the amount the offender is carrying? In the end I couldn’t decide whether I’d been conned, or had actually got off lightly. Maybe both. TIA... this is Africa.
You can imagine that my mood took a while to lift. But it’s been a good day really. It’s hard
to feel sorry for yourself or weighed down by regret for very long, when the sun is shining and you’re looking out on vistas like the ones I’ve enjoyed today. It’s been another longish day behind the wheel: I’ve covered about 430 kms. First I drove the ‘waterfall route’, and then the length of Blyde River Canyon. It wasn’t arduous driving: there was something to pull over and explore every 20 kms or so. And ‘Blyde’ is Afrikaaans for ‘Joyful’ (as in ‘blythe’ presumably). So it would have been a different sort of crime to let my earlier traffic offence undermine my capacity to enjoy the moment. 
One of the early treats was ‘God’s window’, a spectacular panorama across the canyon. I found the name quite thought-provoking. It implies God’s view, God’s outlook – but also a place where we might catch a glimpse of God. It put me in mind of the Bible in that respect: it conveys, mysteriously but truly, God’s view and outlook – but also affords me glimpses of God.
Bourke’s Potholes were fun: vast eroded pits in and around the river bed.
And the Three Roundevals were worth waiting for. I hope the pictures give an idea of how extraordinary they are. This may not be The Grand Canyon. But it is staggeringly pleasing one all the same. On the return leg of the journey, down a parellel set of roads, I visited Echo Caves – a 16 km stretch of interlocking underground limestone tunnels and caverns, of which visitors are able to walk 1.2km. It was a deserted place. I was the only visitor. But there were guides standing by and I got a personal tour. It was a comically surreal experience. My guide spoke only the English she had learned as a spiel. Questions were out of the question, so to speak. I’m pretty sure she’d learned her lines parrot fashion and without much understanding. She also had a strong accent, so we walked happily along, she declaiming as if to a group of 20 an interpretation of the caves of which I only really understood a tenth part, me nodding encouragingly and smiling to indicate interest. It finished well enough: the caves were 4 km down a dirt track, and at the end of the tour my guide asked if I could give her a lift as far as the ‘tar road’. I was delighted to do it, and had the feeling that was a prepared line too!
The last part of the drive reminded me of Scotland or New Zealand. It’s fly-fishing country and the landscape is dotted with trout pools and small lakes. As the sun grew lower in the sky these caught the light and shimmered.
This evening I’ve gone upmarket. You can only have so much Formula 1 motel. So I’m doing B&B. Actually it’s lovely. Just to give you an idea of the plushness: there were fresh flower petals floating in the toilet bowl. My room is spacious and well-appointed. The towels are soft, the bed is high – and what luxury: there’s a fridge. I might yet recover that sense of bliss!
Today has been my last day in this astonishing country. I hope to visit Pretoria tomorrow morning. But in the afternoon I have to return the car to the airport and check in for my homeward flight. It's been a wonderful fortnight, but I'm ready to see my people again and to resume routines. Nearly.
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