ore my very eyes. it's sad. monday nights will never be the same, a void has opened up in my life, a GAP on my hooded sweatshirt.As dan stood before the burning bush in his leather strops he belted at the top of his air filled lungs, 'what am i to do, oh deary me, what am i to do?. Moses led a nation, i just wanted Sopranos back on the tube.
it was a year ago that klotzy plotted, preempted the down fall of monday nights. but not only did he add the double cheese to that steers burger, he also supersized that coke and made a megalomaniac out of a packet
of freedom fries. the whale trail had our names graffitied on the pebbles we weren't allowed to nick and there we would lay tread where our tread had never been laid.we flew Kulula. it's kotch green colours gave me the heebeegeebees and i nearly blew. i clutched those faux leather seats hard and read the information card like it was my blueprint to survival. thank good
ness Kulula pay reasonable salaries cos we were on terra firma and ready to make a blitzkrieg for a wee town called infanta, just a sesame-seed coated bread stick's length from the hiking jump off point-de hoop nature reserve.our two hyundai atos rentals- jam jars on raisins made Subaru rally cars look like old lemons marching over a pedestrian crossing. these wee shoe boxes took us from pop-up book re
aders to real live whale watchers in 3 blazing hours. we made a dust storm outta the gravel roads and punished all in our wake.-sorry beatrix potterone thing the Monopoly board doesn't sell is southern african coastline, well
it didnt 20 years ago when me and my carpet-burned knees used to roll dice. why rissik street is still primo,
beats the living sheeite outta me.the whale trail begins in de hoop nature reserve, rises up steeply through the potberg mountains, where Potley was christened, plateau's a bit like a top deck chocolate bar and th
en like pamela andersons low cut top, plunges rapidly down towards the icey blue ocean and so begins to skirt along the craggy coastline. the path the 5 of us-milies, potley, leeroy klotzy and a russian bear hunter trudged upon steeply ascended the mountain range which was blanketed like an all american quilt stitched in the glamourous yellows, magentas, and flaming oranges of the majestic protea. the vultures did donuts above our heads leaving skid marks on our psyches-we weren't here to die man, we were here to harpoon ...uh i mean see whales.the treacherous
, yet beautiful coastline hasn't been defiled or violated by tuscan warts and the gangreen on the landscape that is shoppping malls. it's an oasis of unscarred earth. this was nature at its most prestine, syrupy, nice like hazel 
nut praline.we spent 5 days bashing through the fynest bos of them all-kinda western cape .i packed nice and good-tuna, beans, noodles made soft in 2 minutes, ah and you can bet your bottom dollar i didnt forget to dip an ouma-went 4 rounds with her, it was a TKO.
this was no fast food extravagance, we worked like pigs, grinded out a foot path for other travellers to scuff their boots on. short of munching and foraging on maggots and live fish- Bear Grilles you complete me-we were the ultimate survivors, cooking on flame grilling ga
s, eating without utensils, and washing our own dishes.we did it like they did it on the Discovery Channel. our story wasn't filmed- it' was in our heads man, in our heads.we drained the camels back thrice over and i was pissing triple distilled, as crystal clear as swedish absolute and as pure as morning dew. i coulda just added lime for a cool,sweet sundowner.
this was a no tolerance journey, the Hyundai Atos rented vehicles were super frugal on desert juice, and their carbon emissions low as a four calorie chocolate bar. solar power was o
ur energy. had i not crushed that poor dung beetle, i could have cashed in my carbon coupons and antarctica could have been saved.trudging at the coast the smell of the sweet sea breeze caved our nostrils in salt- we couldnt wait to hit beach and let the sea lap our limbs. Milies and I took the plunge daily, it was cold, ask my 3rd nipple.
we saw whales-, loads of 'em, bobbing, weaving, spyhopping and breaching. this was no scene from a jimmy bond flik, it was real, the real juice co
mpany real. the huge clunks of blubber bobbed in the icey waters safe from the mouths of sushi munching japs and norwegian trawlers, at least until the breeding season was over.on the march, we sucked super c's, silly sucking champions we were, till our tongues were yellow and our worries dissolved. it was the dried fruit and nuts that caught me with my pants down. it was a soil enriching experience.
its marvellous what Milo can do for you, when you got mates drooling at your feet for a taste of the good stuff. i didn't need other's Milo, cos i got high on my own supply.
we kipped in huts, bunk beds, showered under the stars. there were no sounds just the heave hoing of our lungs against our rib cages and no odours, just the sweet smell of fynbos-it was chronic.
the journey ended at the end, where the sand dunes meet the sea and a coke mac
hine greets you. we made like the swiss and roll-ed into Bredasdorp where the lady without her front teeth suggested we munch our fish and tsips at the corner cafe.it was straight outta the sea...of oil. it was so lekker. my heart thanked me by pulpitating. and with a greasy hand it was time to bid my fellow hunter-gatherers adieu, and off to Cape town i journeyed with Leeroy, pilot of
Atos 2.i crashed landed at the Haar-bingers place in sea point and that night went to a restaurant in the city called Mesopotamia, it was kurdish. i can now understand why Sadam went all bride of chucky on these people. the bird served up to me was an insight into what appears in little glass jars filled with formaldahy
de found in biology museums.cape town is always spritely and after many years Fishhoek greeted me.
what a journey it was. gotta dream, gotta see,gotta hear,gotta munch, gotta breath gotta keep walking
goo goo catchoo, its been a while since i last scrat
ched the surface. hope alls well west side, east side, state side, sea sidebe cool , stay cool
dna(my name as seen by dyslexics)
quote by unknown tag artist about scratchings on the streets of new york, 'reading has never been this much fun.'
