Final Taste

It is hard to believe that it has been over a month since we closed camp for the winter and tied down anything that was liable to blow away in the dreaded Santa Ana winds. Despite a few days seeming to go on forever, the month has passed relatively speedily, probably due to the various interjections which have broken it up.

The brothers enjoying a longboard session/

To begin we had a couple of visitors in camp. Two brothers who where cycling from San Francisco to Cabo San Lucas with their surfboards, seeking out the perfect waves. They stopped by the camp for a few nights to stock up on food and water before moving on down the coast. I enjoyed having the guys here and it was great to chat to them about their journey and breaking down perceptions of how dangerous the trip was. I relished in the contrast that America still has a travel advisory out against people travelling to Baja, Mexico while the guys were telling me how much easier it had been travelling in Mexico where everyone went out of their way to help and accommodate them apposed to in America where most people treated them like bums. After a couple days sharing waves and even a windsurfing lesson they managed to negotiate a lift in a fishing boat down the coast, once again proving the willingness of the locals to help out where they can.

All closed up. 

A few days after the boys left Kevin, Joey and Tim were back in camp to pick up some gear and to put the finishing touches on the winter shutdown. We put a new roof on the board room from which I am still finding tar spots on various parts of my body and boarded up the exposed areas of camp, leaving it looking somewhat deserted. I took the opportunity to get a lift back to the States with Joey to get my last fix of civilisation for the year. He was kind enough to let me tag along to a weekend away in Lake Havasu, Arizona. While the place was completely dead, they assured me that during season it is the place to be with massive boat parties and scantly clad twenty somethings soaking up the sun. The sun did not make an appearance for us so instead we soaked up the beer in the local bar whilst entertaining the lonely barman with pearls of whiskey wisdom.

With my tan beginning to fade it was time to head back west and pop in at Palm Springs for a couple of days to visit a few friends who were also passing through. I couldn't help but feel that it, like so many other American cities, is a place to check off any extended stay list. Strip malls and cookie cutter neighbourhoods just don't do it for me, if I am going to live in a city it is going to be one where things are on top of each other and I can at least walk to my local pub. Stopping in Palm Springs did afford me the opportunity to catch the train to San Diego which is something I have been itching to do since arriving in the States almost 5 months ago. Okay so it was a bus to Fullerton and then a train but it still made for a scenic journey and gave me just a small taste of what it would be like to explore the States by rail. As I have mentioned before, rail is my most preferred method of travel and I find there to be something extra alluring about American train travel, maybe it is the culture of train-hopping manifesting itself in a more elegant form. For the most part the train hugs the coast, passing by the houses of the movies and the beaches The Beach Boys sang about, stirring up notions of California dreaming and making it a must on anyone visiting the areas itinerary.

I had only intended to stop in San Diego a couple of nights but found myself staying a little longer as I covered the extremities of the city in search of a new laptop power adaptor. The traversing of the city provided a snapshot into the "dirtier" side of America which at times had me had me pondering how a country can be so involved in everyone else's affairs when it has so many issues to sort out itself? This created a bit of a conflict inside me as that part so wanted to run away from the mask of consumerist behaviour back to the solitude of Punta San Carlos while another part enjoyed the bustle, the conversations and the coffee shops. Which leaves me contemplating how I can model a life that allows me to dip in and out of these two personalities as I please?

When the time came to leave San Diego there were difficult goodbyes to say and new ideas and perceptions to mull over on the trip south. So early Sunday morning I trudged, sleepy eyed over the border to get on a bus which would take me to El Rosario where I had arranged to have someone meet me and take me the next two hours to camp. The journey was an easy one, the bus was comfy, come to think of it so comfy that I slept most of the way, and my lift was there as arranged though it certainly affirmed that if I am going to be staying in Mexico, I need to learn Spanish. Fortunately Joey introduced me to www.duolingo.com, which I would recommend to anyone trying to learn a language. I feel I have learnt more Spanish in the week I have been back than I learnt Swedish in the 6 months of living there.

It seems as if in the couple of weeks away winter decided to move in. The days seem far shorter with sunrise around 6 and sunset around 5, nothing like winter in Sweden mind, and there is a definite nip in the air. The wind was scarce for the first few days, but I caught the back end of a good swell and managed to get a few SUPing and surfing sessions in. I have enjoyed both sports, hell I am enjoying becoming a more rounded waterman but it is the surfing that has surprised me. I could go into a whole monologue as to what it is like being out there in the water alone or what surfing means to me but I recently read a post from a friend which sums read far me eloquently than my words. So instead I'll leave you with the link and the words: It really does take only one wave to make it all worth it.

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Romantic Rail

Monday - 06/05/2013

Since I had a couple of hours to spare before the train to Victoria Falls was to depart and I didn't have a cent of viable currency on me, I took the opportunity to take a brief stroll into Bulawayo city center to see if I could find an ATM or even an exchange. My search was short lived as the sun would shortly dip beyond the dirty horizon and I was not yet comfortable with my Africa travels to be walking around at night looking like a pawn shop with all my belongings on me. I gave in to fact that I would be going hungry for the night and returned to the station platform where I collapsed on bench.

Platform Entertainment

I couldn't have been sitting there longer than a few minutes when a fella dumped his bags next to me and asked if I would mind them while he went to the loo. Whilst he was gone I started to ponder the question, "If someone trusts you, should you trust them?" Upon his return he sank down next to me and we struck up a conversation. He was a wire artist and was heading to the Falls since there was better business there due to all the tourists. Our topics ranged from the political state of Zimbabwe, him stating that the best thing for the country would be change, to how he learnt his trade and the fact that there was even an association of wire artists in South Africa. Once we had exhausted topics he took his leave to make his way to platform 4 where our train was being prepared, leaving me contemplating my question and wondering what would have happened if I had left my bags in his care.

The waiting game

A short while later I decided to join the trickle of passengers passing me by on their way to platform 4. Reaching the end of the platform I walked smack into the middle of a still standing stampede waiting to find their seat on the 19:30 to Victoria Falls. Stuck in the middle of this herd I rather enjoyed the jovial nature of my fellow passengers and shared a few brief interactions with them, most of them amused at my hefty load. Around 8pm the station guard gave the okay and the fidgety stampede broke loose down the platform while I stood and let them fight for the best seats. As the dust cleared with the fresh evening breeze I found my carriage and dropped my bags before introducing myself to the travelers in my neighboring cabin.

My Cabin

Will and Debora were working at a mission together in Zimbabwe, Will from England was spending 2 months in Zim as a doctor and Debora from the Netherlands had been at the mission for 3 months. Friendship was solidified with a peanut butter sandwich and discussions of our travel experiences, after which I retired to my cabin, fortunate to have it to myself though at the same time lonely in not be able to share the experience with someone close. 

The journey itself was fantastic and I encourage anyone who finds themselves in Zimbabwe with time on their hands to jump aboard and enjoy the romance of rail travel. I was in 1st class sleeper which cost $12 and consisted of a single cabin with two beds, the lower which converts from a seat and the upper which folds down when needed. There is also 2nd class sleeper at $10 which has an extra two beds per cabin. Beds are sold on an individual basis, so if you want to ensure you have the cabin to yourself you should book all the beds or you can take your chances as I did. Shortly after we left Bulawayo, delayed by about an hour, the guard came around asking if we needed blankets and linen. I had my sleeping bag with me which was perfectly cosy at this time of year. I've traveled by train enough to know the one thing that always soils the experience is the toilet, since I had not entrusted my fellow passenger earlier on in the evening with my bags I had to make a visit early on in our journey. I found the toilet in clean order, though since it is of the long drop type, I can only assume that as the journey wore on its state would not hold up to western ideals. 

Spotless

An invitation to join the sleepers club.

The train made a number of stops through the night, these appeared to be at random points, possibly requested by passengers but this just added to the novelty of the journey. With each stop the train would blow its horn to signal it was on the move again, at some point during the evening I stopped noticing these and enjoyed a good night's rest. I deliberately slept with the blind open so that I would be woken by the sunrise, which I think was around 6am. As the world outside stirred to life I was the only one on the inside moving about and so stumbled down the empty hallway to inspect how bad the toilet had become overnight. To my surprise it was once again spotless, so much so that I had to grab my camera to capture some proof. The morning light made the last few hours of the journey magical as most passengers, including me, couldn't help but poke their heads out to let the soft warmth bathe their skin as a fresh breeze washed the sleep from their eyes and the majestic landscape passed by with the click clack of the train.

We arrived at an iconic Victoria Falls station around 8:30am the following morning feeling as if were the lords and ladies of a colonial past about to enjoy the grandeur of high tea overlooking the falls. It was a brief feeling of wealth which was snatched away from us as we found ourselves at shoestring backpackers.

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