Mud and such

I'm not sure where to begin....since the last post have visited Graaf-Reinet, Colesburg, and am now in Ladybrand.

Have been so ridiculously busy that I haven't had a moment to blog, to journal, or even to rest. Just yesterday our team was faced with the decision: to journal about our adventures or to create new adventures?? But, since we are a hardy (perhaps foolhardy bunch) we decided to use our few hours of free time before our big Rotary club presentation to set out on an unscheduled trip to a game park. Carol, Paul, and I decide to go while Jerry and Barb decide to stay and have a peaceful (and much needed) rest in the chalet. With the full understanding that we were confused Americans, had no international driving licences, didn't know where we were going, and so forth, a local Rotarian offered the use of her car--scratch that--she insisted we take her car. The car is (was) a lovely white leather-upholestered Mercedes, actually owned by her father-in-law. At the last moment two other South Africans decide to join us and we make our way, slowly, down the dirt road to the game park. We had a nice time viewing the scenery, spring bok, eland, kudu, ostrich, and other bok-ish type creatures. We took a lot of pictures. But the light begins to get darker and we realize we need to head back to the natuer reserve where we were staying so we could prepare for our presentation.

Unfortunately the game park is a bit, uh, undeveloped, and the roads are confusing and of course there is no map. We take a few turns in which the roads are rough and we manage to turn around, but the mud seems to be getting thicker and soupier as we plow through the velt. Paul, who I could now describe a realistic fellow, voiced the opinion that perhaps we should turn around and come back the way we came but really the road looked passable to me. As an older and wiser person now, I am happy to report that I am far too optimistic. We make our way down the road until...whhhhiiiirrr....our wheels get stuck in the mud. After endless pushing and pulling, mud to the knees, some movement of the car both forwards and back, and my first up-close-and-personal experience with a dung beetle, the reality sets in. A freezing wind is whipping up and a huge thundercloud is bearing down upon us. After a lot of skillful driving on the part of Paul and Carol and some seriously dirty pushing, we have managed to move the car halfway off of the road to a drier area off to the side but while our front two wheels are free, the back two are subsumed.

Is it necessary for me to mention that we are completely alone in this park? There is no security station or hoardes of Japanese tourists. We are WAY off the beaten path and miles outside of a town of only 12,000 people. But modern technology has snaked its fingers deep into the hert of SA--one of the Rotarians in the car has a cell phone (praise Jesus!) Being stone deaf and not knowing his own cell phone number, however, he is not a very good negotiator of services and we are told that we are to abandon the car and make our way to an abandoned air field some kilometers away. The rescue team does not want to risk getting stuck in the mud and trapped in the park overnight during the storm. The rescue team!!! But we quickly decide this is not an option--the bitingly cold wind and rain are increasing at a rapid rate, the entire route to the airfield is a muddy swamp that would have been impassable for two of our passengers, we fear leaving a borrowed Mercedes at the mercy of bandits deep in the Karoo, and--for God's sakes--we are unarmed and unexperienced foreigners surrounded by dangerous and unknown African animals! Together, we think over our options and count our money--we have over a hundred American dollars but this apparently is not enough of a persuasive bribe. After some serious negotation and multiple phone calls we finally convince some man by the name of Johannes to send out Hannes and his team. We are told it will take 30 minutes.

We continued huddling in the car and dripping mud onto the leather seats. We are seriously late for our presentation.to our hosting Rotary team. We wait 30 minutes, then 40. The minutes tick by. Finally, out of nowhere a welcoming light shines on the horizon. I can't quite express to you what I felt at the time, so I won't try. But the fact that we were saved in record time in rural SA, without spending a single American dollar and without a single injury (besides to our egos and my sense of cleanliness) felt like a miracle. The Mercedes is quickly pulled out of the muck. We happily rewarded Hannis the rescuer with Texas paraphernalia and lots of Rand. The car is absolutely trashed--covered in muddy handprints and splattered inside and out with goo. We then drove around the worst of the muck and slowly made our way back out of the park on the long long muddied roads. Needless to say, the rescue team closely followed.

After a lot of confusion about which side of the road to drive on, fear of roaming kudus, the South Africans expressing shock at the idea that all along we had no international driving license(?!), another car breaking down, and some frantic scrubbing of the fetid mud and dung in the shower, we made it to our presentation to a wide round of applause and...two local newspapermen looking for the scoop. The embarrasing tale of the Texans stranded in the mud of the Karoo may make first page, but we will be saved some dignity as the details of our exploits will only be spelled out in Afrikaans!