Cape Town

Cape Town

Our arrival into South Africa, with the exception of a 4am luggage turn out at customs, was uneventful. We broke the trip into two twelve-hour legs with a 2 day stop in Uppington. While there, we were lucky enough to be invited to our host's uncle's farm to catch zebras. Our input was simply to ride in the back of the pick-up. Fine, we thought, but what they failed to tell us was that the pick-up would be travelling at up to 70mph across farm plains to assist with the herding. The end result for us being an hour-long white-knuckle ride standing in the back of the pick up, hanging onto the roll bar for dear life.

We were now getting more than a little excited about the bike's impending arrival in Cape Town. We booked into the Zebra Crossing backpacker hostel, a small place about 5 minutes from the bars and cafes of Long Street, and 20 minutes walk from the water front - a fashionable complex of shops and restaurants with a growing residential presence, all centred around the Victoria and Alfred working docks. We had to wait another week for the bike to be unshipped, but I didn't think we would be short of amusement.

It'll come as no surprise that the first tour we went on was wine tasting. Ferdinand had taken great care of us on our last visit but was currently indisposed as a contestant on South African Big Brother, so Raymond, his counterpart, lead us into the wine-tasting abyss. Along with seven others we sniffed, inspected, sampled and quaffed our way through four vineyards and countless wines. Needless to say the "spittoon" saw very little action, unlike the paracetamol the next morning!

A trip to Robben Island gave us a brief insight into the lives of those imprisoned here by the Apartheid regime. Remarkably all the guides are former prisoners, their stories told without a hint of bitterness, a testament to the inner strength of the men and women who spent so many years of their lives incarcerated from their homes and families. What with Table Mountain, an endless choice of beaches filled with 'beautiful people', a wide selection of cafes and bars and a ludicrously favourable exchange rate, it doesn't take much to have good time in Cape Town (or to get a hangover!).

When we did finally get the bike, we went straight off, through the cosmopolitan area of Camp's Bay and it's stunning, fast-winding coast road. We then took a ride along the twisty Kloof Nek road that runs through the forest surrounding Table Mountain. It was good to be back on the bike.

We choose a good time of year to visit South Africa. A little rain has fallen providing spectacular electrical storms and turning the countryside into a blanket of green and blossom. With enough sun to make shorts and T-shirts normal daily attire, the climate suites us to the ground.

Copper hat dive

We visited the Cape Town aquarium which was advertising not only shark dives but copper hat shark dives. Now, having dived with 'Raggie Tooth' sharks in Aliwel Shoal a few years back, aquarium dives have always failed to fire me up, but the copper hat experience was something I'd always fancied.

On the day I was introduced to Daryl who'd be looking after me. He took me up to the roof and the open-air tops of the larger shark tanks. He explained the procedure, pointed out the industrial pulley and cradle that would be used to lower me into the tank.

I was helped into the heavy-duty cotton dry suit. The rubber mounted brass shoulder plate was screwed down. Next the 9 kilo boots were attached followed by 7 kilo weights, front and back, to the shoulder plate.

I thought I'd be a bit nervous by now but I wasn't, little did I know…

The 8 kilo helmet caused the voices outside to become muffled, but still clearly understandable. Daryl tested the two-way radio and turned on the air. I could hear it quietly hissing directly above my head, He briefly turned up the pressure, the blast obscuring all other sounds from outside. Then he attached the face plate, my eardrums feeling the pressure change, as he screwed it on. The first twinge of anxiety made its presence felt, I was now totally reliant on outside assistance. The spanner tightening the face plate was turning directly in front of my eyes and did nothing to appease the uneasy feeling. With the sun beating down and the cooling Atlantic breeze now shut out, I was starting to overheat.

I stood, and as I'd been instructed, clumped my way to the cradle and backed in. Although an open frame, the cradle supports touched my shoulders and heightened the already simmering claustrophobia. I was aware that my breathing was now in gasps, a tingling sensation in my scalp and the tightening muscles in my temple preceded the wave of panic that crashed through me, pressing my torso and making my head spin, I was sure I didn't have enough air. "DARYL, I NEED MORE AIR", the fear in my raised voice obvious. Lucy leaned into view "Are you Ok?", I just nodded. Daryl swiftly moved towards the air, the inlet hiss got louder but did little to calm me.

I was now freaked enough to want out. "I've got to get out" I thought. "Bollocks, no, deal with it", thinking to my pot-holing training, I told myself, "concentrate on something". I looked at my hands "concentrate on them, they're outside the suit". Odd it might sound, but it worked. The vice grip around my chest lifted, my tense shoulders and back began to relax, my face muscles eased as the panic flooded back out.

Daryl gave me the OK sign, which I returned.

The air now puffing up the arms of my suit made me look more like the Michelin man than a diver, very reassuring all the same. I turned my head to look out of the starboard porthole, the silhouette of an eight-foot 'raggie tooth' below me doing nothing to squash my desire to get in the cool aquamarine water. I don't deal with the heat very well. The sweat trickling down my cheek reminded me of this. Cooling off was now my number one desire.

The winch started lowering me, as my feet and legs went into the water, the cool pressure gripped them, my initial trepidation now replaced with excitement.

"How are you doing?" barked Daryl through the two-way.

"Ok" I replied as I completely submerged and continued to the bottom of the tank.

The cradle bumped gently to a halt and I stepped out. The weight of my attire made every move slow and restrained. I turned to the glass-viewing wall and was greeted by three little faces, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. They turned for assurance from their parents, who were equally bemused by the antics of the copper hatted loony in the shark tank.

Photographs

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