Return to Cape Town

The last leg of my journey felt like a “bringing her home” leg. There were recommendations to deviate but I stayed more of less on the direct route. The weather remained unsettled. For the first time I had my inner jacket & heated grips on (a nod towards the imminent British winter I was coming back to).

I arrived to a glorious afternoon in Cape Town so immediately headed up Table Mountain. The tourist machine is in overtime here but for good reason. The setting is stunning. You can walk up but 99% of the tourists take the slicker than slick cable car. Me included. Before you know you’re on the table top. I headed off on the round the top walk. From the busyness of the cable terminal, people thinned out as I walked. The cloud was rolling in at speed. After a time, I realised I was alone in dense cloud. I could see my feet. The rest was guesswork. I turned around conscious my preparedness boiled down to shorts & a t-shirt.  

The following morning I returned the bike. I had done just under 10K on it (excluding the 2.5K I did on the big bike). The Sertao & me had established a bond. I was sorry to see it go. Yes it had its wobbles but who doesn’t. In fact, I decided we were growing like each other (in a “like owner, like dog” way). The Sertao is an acquired taste, no looker with its big beak, a bit temperamental & unpredictable. Could be a description of me.   

After dropping the bike off (“David, you’ve been gone so long, we’ve forgotten you still had the bike”), I headed off into town. Last time in Cape Town it was blowing a gale. This time it was picture perfect. I mooched around glad (for once) not to be on a motorbike saddle, drank beer (theme...) & admired some of the best modern sculptures I have seen in the National Museum.   

The Butcher Boys