Travelogue: The Wild Coast & Coffee Bay

Jess writes:

Our final stop on the vacation agenda was to the ever-so-quiet and charming Coffee Bay. The actual roads to get there however, much like the weather conditions of the last stretch, were miserable! And by miserable, I mean both unbelievably incredible and utterly unbearable. From J-Bay, we headed towards Mthatha, ready to cover more than half of the stretch known as “The Wild Coast” in one 9-hour riding day. Luckily, there was far less rain than previously… unluckily, the roads took on a whole new meaning of “dangerous, curvy intersection ahead”. Every 10k there would be such a sign and for the majority of the trip, we gripped our seats and/or each other for fear of our lives. Okay, I’ll adjust that just slightly: I, more so than Adam, was doing most of the gripping and fearing and I would like to think that this was due more to the Mefloquin that has made me a paranoid schizophrenic than a lack of trust in the driver. Okay. Either way, it was maddeningly scary at times!!! But finally we had made it through the highest of the mountain passes and just before entering Mthatha town limits, we saw the understated sign on the side of the N2 pointing south, to Coffee Bay.

Now, I should start by saying that we had been both warned and hyped about this portion of the trek. “The road is the worst I have ever seen!” explained one traveler. “The views are some of the best in all of South Africa!” described another. Okay, well, let’s see…

Within minutes, the terrain changed from the rugged Wild Coast to a fairy-tale scape of slowly sloping green hills, trickling streams, and jagged gorges cutting through grassy lawns for as far as the eye could see. For the next 75k, we endured – as rightly described – some of the worst road conditions known to South Africa: extremely steep inclines, blind curves (and yes, some of those combined!), potholes the size of small countries, haphazard and notably hazardous patches of “construction” (read as: pavement-to-dirt-to-crumbling-pavement-again), and some of the fastest-changing weather conditions we had ever seen… “Oh look how beautiful the sun is over those hills… oh crap that looks like a massive rain storm… where the hell did this wind come from… oh, the sun is back out again…”! Eish! But along the entire trek, the scenery looked more like a backdrop for an exotic, African, Broadway show than an actual, real-life, place. Dotting the hills were bright blue, pink and yellow Xhosa rondavals with make-shift wooden fences and brightly-dressed Xhosa Gogos tending to hillside gardens. Some of these magnificent little homes were built precariously on the edge of slopes that dropped down to coves over a hundred meters below… not exactly the type of “backyard” I would want to find children playing in, but nevertheless breathtaking to see. It took some serious concentration to avoid the myriad obstacles that were also along the road (not just part of the road) – herds of stubborn cattle, flocks of trotting goats, and gaggles of geese. Then, as we got closer to Coffee Bay, we experienced the beautiful sightings of wild horses and interesting donkey breeds, some galloping along the hillsides and others, being ridden bareback by Xhosa children on their way to or from their various herds of livestock. How great!

Finally, after a two hour endeavor (yes, two yours to drive 75k!), we arrived in the town of Coffee Bay. Well, it’s not actually a town… in fact, I don’t even think you could call it a village… it’s really just the end point where the main road runs into the lower cliffs and ocean. There is only one “hotel” (think someone’s large house), two backpackers, one café, one restaurant, a small clothing hut, and an African Jahdrum store – all within a two minute walk of, well, everything else.

We unloaded at the Coffee Shack and began our whirl-wind tour of the premises with our friendly guide: “Activities here, internet is available, patio and tables, some chairs, oh and hammocks, the breakfast bar, the actual bar, our pool table, bathrooms there, dorms there, and here is your rondaval. And once you’re settled, close beach out that gate, main beach over the stream, dinner’s at 7pm, sign-up sheet here, and there’s your free Welcome Drink.” Whew! The Coffee Shack, as we soon discovered, is the equivalent of an all-inclusive, do nothing or do everything, resort of a backpacker – the best backpacker experience we’ve had in South Africa! The entire compound was nestled beneath a canopy of jungle trees and vines, with wooden patios and walkways going up, down, and around the various lounge spots – an enormous wooden table under thatch roof with a selection of board games strewn about, a stone “breakfast” nook carved into one of the foundational walls, a firepit built up alongside the bar, a dinner table under the breezy side of the main buildings eaves, lounge chairs and hammocks located wherever you pleased to nap or read, and a back lawn beyond the main buildings with a view of the rocky coastline and the cliffs. This was not a vacation spot. This was the realization of a storybook.

Your whole stay went on one tab – tricky, hey? – but made for an awesomely relaxed and carefree feeling of luxury. Breakfast was anything from eggs and toast and bacon to youghurt and fruit and granola. Lunch and snacks were toasties and crisps. Dinners were glorious three and four-course meals of soups, salads, meat, sides and dessert. Free tea and coffee to your heart’s content and, as though it had been ordered with your beverage, plenty of sunshine, cool breezes and an almost-mandatory afternoon siesta.

Each morning we were enticed to partake in the day’s adventure – hikes to coves, to mountains, through villages, etc. – and we were luckily allowed to decline any and all offers of physical exertion due to the fact that we had “completely forgotten to even pack a good pair of walking shoes, how could we?” Shame. (He he!) So we did exactly what we intended to do each day: nothing at all. Well, almost nothing. We slept in, read our books, I wrote in my journal, we took photos of snakes as they crawled through the brush, we chatted with the kids at the Craft Corner that were making wallets out of juice cartons, and on the very rare occasion that we felt like a very short walk, we hiked up the hill to the pizzeria with gorgeous views of little Coffee Bay and the huge Wild Coast coastline. At night, we would often rally together a group of people to play “30 Seconds” – the South African version of Catchphrase. One night, with a group of more than fifteen of us, we played our little, competitive hearts out. We divided the teams up based on their language categories for the ease of guessing: Team 1 was the German, Dutch and Flemish speakers, Team 2 was the South African team with a mix of Afrikaans and English, Team 3 was a mishmash of EU-ers speaking Spanish/French/other, and Team 4 was Me, Adam, and Jackie – a new friend from Australia, that everyone dubbed “The Americans” and that we switched to “The A-Team” to rightfully include Australia! We drank slightly too much and got slightly too excited and, on more than one occasion, were jumping out of our seats to shout out clues that were only remotely related to the actual words. And even though our A-Team was at a definite disadvantage since a majority of the questions related to rugby and cricket (yeah, like I know anything there), we actually managed to win more than one of the games that night and technically took the official winning title! Go A-Team!!

As it neared Christmas, festivities went into full swing and PCVs from every corner of the southern continent were pouring in to enjoy the Coffee Shack celebrations. The largest of the events would be a full-day, Christmas Eve extravaganza, including hikes, drinks, gifts, plenty of entertainment, and tons and tons and tons of food! We spent the morning on the main beach that was, quite literally, “over the river and through the woods” from the backpacker and then hung around the Coffee Shack to greet fellow SA volunteers as they arrived for the holidays.

In the late afternoon, we all piled into the Coffee Shack vans (and a couple random guests cars as well, since there were so many of us) and drove the long, steep road up to the highest cliff on the bay. There, with free gin and tonics, oysters and mussels, we could see the whole of Coffee Bay – with its jagged cliffs and crashing waves and sandy stretches of beaches that end in misty coves and tunnels. We listened to the tide coming in, the wind in the grasses, and the not-so-distant hooves of mountain goats perched on the ledges. And as the evening approached, we sipped on our cocktails and enjoyed our hors d’oeuvres as the sun set over the ocean and lit up the sea spray in magnificent shades of pink and rose. Absolutely beautiful!

Back down at the backpacker, the staff was preparing for a feast – one that I can honestly say would rival any American Thanksgiving! In the meantime, we all gathered around for a Christmas Eve toast and enjoyed cups of chilled champagne with the use of our Coffee Shack Christmas gifts of Coffee Shack cozies! And then dinner was served – roasted turkey, glazed gammon, roast beef, butternut squash, zucchini and corn fritters, baby potatoes with honey mustard dressing, green salads, pasta salads, three bean salads, chickpea and lentil tabouli, yams, beets, apple sauce, cranberry sauce, salsa, gravy and Xhosa bread!! And then there was still dessert of Christmas Cake in brandy butter, cheesecake and fruit salad!!! Everyone piled around the various tables and seating areas, with plates overflowing and steaming, and took their first bites of Christmas supper. After a few bites of my own, I looked up and smiled at the hodgepodge of fellow travelers around us – travelers from Europe, the U.K. and Australia, ex-patriots from the states and Asia, short-term inhabitants and volunteers from all over Africa – everyone indulging in their feasts, exchanging stories and jokes, sharing bits of nostalgia about holiday traditions back home, drinking a little too much champagne, and cooling off in the nighttime breezes of a warm, Christmas Eve. This certainly wasn’t our normal Christmas, but it certainly would be one to remember!

After several more beverages, we had quite a group of English and semi-English speaking guests belting out the words (or at least the words that we thought were the words) to some of our carol favorites – Jingle Bells (with bell sound effects), Rudolph (with all the various and varying additions), Silent Night (a little too serious for our mood), Deck the Halls (the clean and the not-so-clean version), and finally, The Little Drummer Boy (we basically sucked at this one… except for the “ba-rump-a-rump-bum” parts)!! Later in the evening, the firepit was lit ablaze and the guys from Jah Drummer came down for a multi-hour drumming, jam session – the staff danced, the staffs’ kids danced, the guests danced – it was a virtual nightclub of African drums and Xhosa dance moves under the jungle canopy decorated with Christmas lights. You could feel the beating in your chest, like your heart jumping to every palm on the drum, and we just watched and watched and watched.

Finally, when the party started weaning into Christmas day, most of made our way back to our bunks for a long night of deep, deep sleep – with the smell of mosquito coils replacing images of sugarplums dancing in our head, and drying towels and swim suits where stockings should have been hung – but we slept nonetheless. Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Christmas Day was quiet, slow, and reminiscent of the carols and drumming the night before. We ate and napped and took some drives along the coast to see the sights. Afterall, before leaving Coffee Bay, we would have to see “Hole in the Wall”. A group piled into one of the Coffee Shack cars and we made our bumpy way out to the great mountain in the middle of the sea. We hiked the last kilometer along the grass and then stood on the edge of the hill, overlooking the gigantic rock formation standing strong against the crashing waves. And yes, as it is aptly called, it does have an enormous hole at its center, carved out by swirling riptides and smashing waters, so that it resembles something of an over-sized, ancient Arc du Triomphe plopped down in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Pretty cool!

Driving back down to the beaches, we enjoyed beautiful vistas of the coastline and, as before, the sight of gorgeous wild horses along the narrowest slopes of the hills. Back to Coffee Shack, we lounged on the back lawn for a Christmas Day lunch of braai, burgers, and salads and then retired under the thatch covers as an afternoon storm passed overhead and cooled the air just before evening. Just as the rain had ended, steaming bowls of butternut squash soup were served up with enormous chunks of Xhosa bread and we all reclined in lounge chairs to enjoy the hot concoction in the chilly night air… in fact, if you closed your eyes and tried hard enough, you could almost feel the outside cold and inside warmth of a Christmas night… almost. But either way, it was truly a Merry Christmas!

The next day we had to head out… leaving behind this majestic little world of trees and beach and relaxation. My eyes were drawn to the sideview mirrors as we made our way back to the main road, catching every last glimpse of this place that I could as we drove away.

And then it was gone. And we were back. And that exotic holiday getaway already seemed like a dream or distant memory. But when I think back on it… I can still smell the food, and feel the breeze, and hear the waves, and see the sun setting over the cliffs… I don’t think I will ever forget this most different of Christmases that we spent here, in Africa.