South African Trip - "when everything turns out differently than planned"
Finally, January was here, and the long-awaited trip to South Africa had arrived. Since Walter was retired, he was asked to fly down earlier to welcome the containers with the Solarbutterfly from India. His idea was inviting Claudia to spend this time with him and travel around until the Solarbutterfly finally arrived, albeit with a delay. After a long seven hours with 36 degrees at the Cape Town harbor, the Solarbutterfly and Tesla were finally liberated from their container. The relief was palpable, a heavy weight lifted as Walter and Claudia drove to Debby's place for one last night of proper sleep before embarking on their much-anticipated tour along the scenic Garden Route to Plettenberg. Little did they know, the real adventure was just beginning, and it had nothing to do with solar-powered vehicles.
Their trusty, albeit ancient, car was already proving to be a disaster. The battery had died on them twice, leaving them stranded until, in the dead of night, they limped into a dimly lit garage. The mechanic, a gruff but efficient man, confirmed their fears: a new battery was essential. While he worked, their eyes fell upon the front left tire – dangerously worn, almost bald. Upset, Walter called the car's owner, a stream of agitated German flowing as he demanded payment via credit card for the unexpected repairs. They drove away, the new battery humming, the fresh tire a small comfort, oblivious to the true challenges that lay ahead.
The next morning, they set off, the initial stretch of the Garden Route living up to its name – lush, green, and breathtaking. But as they ventured deeper, the landscape began to change, and so did the roads. The route they were taking was actually the one initially planned for the Solarbutterfly – a thought that now sent shivers down Walter's spine. It was impossible. Thank goodness they were pre-running it; the Solarbutterfly team would need to alter their plans significantly.
The road twisted and climbed, stunning vistas giving way to increasingly treacherous terrain. The higher they ascended, the worse the road became – tight, uneven, and eventually, nothing but loose gravel. The old car, with over 150,000 kilometers on its odometer, groaned and protested with every bump and rut. The stress wasn't just on the vehicle; Walter and Claudia felt it too, their knuckles white on the steering wheel, their conversation reduced to terse warnings about potholes.
Then, with a sickening thud and a hiss, their right front tire gave out. Punctured. Again.
"What now?" Claudia whispered, her voice barely audible above the sudden silence of the engine. They were somewhere after De Vlught, heading in the general direction of Prinz Albert via Oudtshoorn and Swartbergpass, surrounded by a vast, silent wilderness. No reception. Hardly any drinking water left. The stunning scenery now felt menacing, isolating.
They knew they had to find water. Following the faint sound of rushing water, they navigated a rocky path until they reached the Keurboomsrivier. The river, though shallow, offered a lifeline. Using their portable water purification system, they eagerly refilled their bottles, the cool, clean water a blessing. Their eyes, scanning the horizon for any sign of civilization, suddenly widened. In the distance, an old Jeep stood, seemingly abandoned next to a small lake. Hope surged.
But as they got closer, the scene grew stranger. The driver's door of the Jeep was wide open, and a man lay on the ground beside it – still, lifeless. Dead. There was no one else around. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant chirping of birds.
Walter and Claudia exchanged a horrified glance. What to do? Their car was down, they had no internet connection, and now, a dead body. They looked at each other, a silent agreement passing between them. They had to get help. No keys, no purse were visible, so they decided to hotwire the car. Walter, with a surprising knack for such things from his youth, managed it. The engine sputtered to life, a rough but welcome roar.
In the middle console, amidst some old maps, they found a business card for a B&B. The logo on the card was familiar; they had seen a worn sign pointing up a hill at the last intersection before the gravel road began. It was a long shot, but their only shot. They decided to drive there, with the desperate hope of meeting someone, getting hold of a phone, and calling for help. What else could they have done?
The drive was agonizingly slow, the Jeep rattling over the uneven terrain. Finally, a farmhouse appeared, nestled amongst a cluster of trees. As they approached, four huge sheepdogs bounded towards them, barking ferociously. Walter and Claudia, remembering the dog cookies they had in their car, quickly made friends with the boisterous canines. The dogs, tails wagging, led them to the house.
The house itself was eerily quiet. No people, only horses grazing in a nearby paddock, donkeys braying softly, and chickens pecking in the yard. Relief washed over them as they found a landline phone inside. It worked! They called the police, their voices shaky as they recounted their unbelievable story. The dispatcher, clearly skeptical, double-checked their account three times, unable to believe what they were hearing.
It took three agonizing hours for the police to arrive. In the meantime, Walter and Claudia, unable to just sit, looked after the animals. They were clearly hungry and thirsty. They filled water troughs and scattered feed, feeling a strange sense of responsibility for these abandoned creatures.
When the police finally arrived, it was an entire brigade. Several vehicles, flashing lights, and a swarm of officers descended upon the quiet farm. One team immediately headed down to the lake to investigate the scene of the discovery. The other team, led by a stern-faced detective, began questioning Walter and Claudia. For hours, they recounted every detail, from the harbor chaos to the flat tire, the dead battery, and finally, the gruesome discovery. The police's first thought, it became painfully clear, was that Walter and Claudia were implicated in the murder. Their alibi was scrutinized, every detail cross-referenced. Thank goodness they could prove their presence at the harbor, with receipts and eyewitness accounts of the Solarbutterfly's extraction.
Eventually, the police found family of the dead man in Namibia who would fly in, but it would take another week. With no one else available to take care of the animals, Walter and Claudia, after consulting with the police and the brother in Namibia, agreed to stay at the guesthouse for six days, until the family's arrival. The main house was locked up for investigation, a silent testament to the tragedy that had unfolded.
It was a sad, surreal story, one they would never forget. They were immensely relieved when the six days were up and they could finally get back to Cape Town and have the best kudu steak ever!!!!” at The Hussar Grill Mouille Point near green point lighthouse, before Claudia's flight back to Switzerland was imminent. Walter's colleague was also already on his way to begin the Solarbutterfly World Tour in South Africa for the next six weeks. Their unexpected detour into a crime story was over, leaving them with a profound sense of the fragility of life and the unpredictable nature of travel.
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