Wicked Campers Africa Blog

Andrew & Rose will be following Ghana through the world cup.

Based at Richards Bay when not travelling to match venues.

So this time last week we were somewhere over the Sahara en route from Tripoli. Now 2700k on the clock, mostly down to 3 trips between Joburg/Pretoria and Richards Bay. 2 matches down and 9 to go. Some minor damage to the vehicle, which I am going to have to try & get fixed tomorow (Tues) morning.

Warned in advance that airport would be chaotic on our arrival; but turned out the only chaotic thing about it was the Wicked Shuttle pick-up arrangements. Eventually set off towards the coast around lunchtime and made it to Wakkerstroom (approx half-way) just as darkness was falling, as planned without any major incident. R23 was closed just south of Heidelberg which involved us taking an unplanned detour including 30k or so of what turned out to be untarred road (I didn’t know — and there was no advance warning) between Vrede and Volksrust.

Wakkerstroom Country Inn overninght. Basic (no internet access?) but friendly and comfortable. Home-baked bread from the bakery next door, next morning. Rose was amazed how cold it got overnight and suddenly decided that it was a good idea that we were not going to be sleeping in the van (except in emergency) after all.

Wed morning the van only starts with something of a struggle. Rose had noticed some apparent battery overspill when we did the collection check the previous morning but neither Harvey nor I thought was anything to worry about. (Mistake # 1). Battery was obviously fairly flat — but I reckoned we had another long drive ahead of us and it should charge up fine along the way — particularly if I keep the air-con switched off. (Mistake # 2). Fill up before setting off — where I see the local garage in Wakkerstroom have a notice up saying they won’t accept R200 notes. Stocking up with cigs at the shop next door I ask whether they will accept R200 notes (no) and then whether this is general and I am going to find the same thing all over the country. Not quite sure what she says in reply but the implication was definitely ‘yes — you are going to have a problem using your R200 notes’). Well I had better get to a bank and change them for smaller denominations, I say. Not in Volksrust, you won’t, she counters. Not sure exactly what she meant, apart from presumably that Wakkerstroom itself doesn’t have a bank. And I had no intention of going back to Volksrust that day anayway.

Up to Piet Retief and on to the N2. The first of the many roadworks stops on the N2 between Piet Retief and Pongola looks like its going to be a long one so I swich off the engine. (Mistake #3). When its eventually our turn to get going again I can’t re-start it. Battery is flat as a pancake. Then I find what I really ought to have checked the previous morning (so much for how many mugs and spoons we have got etc). No tools (spanners — apart from the wheelbrace, which isn’t going to be alot of use for undoing, cleaning and re-connecting the battery terminals, no warning safety triangle, no jump leads. We eventually get a jump start from the traffic control truck and are on our way again — making a mental note not to switch the engine off again at any of the subsequent roadworks until we reach Pongola.

The range of inventory carried at AutoZone in Pongola isn’t exactly as extensive as what you get to choose from at the Kempton Park branch. So it costs me R1600 for a new battery which is the considerably more expensive version of the 2 which will fit the van (but they don’t have any of the cheaper brand in stock) plus the most exorbitant (and probably fairly useless) safety warning triangle I have ever seen (but its the only model they have in stock) plus a basic toolset which is considerably less basic than what I ideally had in mind — but its the only option they have in stock. At least I got the jump leads thrown in for free. I come to pay and find that the transaction is refused on my visa card. Never mind, it goes through OK on my MasterCard — which I only ever use as occasional back-up. While we are fitting the new battery, a kid persuades Rose to have a go with his vuvuzela. After he explains that you have to put it to the CORNER of your mouth, her effort comes out loud, but for some reason more of a high-pitched squeal than the usual blare. Back on the road again, we reach Richards Bay as darkness is falling, without further incident. The N2 after Pongola is in much better condition than on the other side, and toll free, but not desperately interesting.

Imvubu Lodage at Meerensee where we are staying, between travels, is beautiful. Authentic wooden chalets on stilts. Monkeys playing in the trees and running across the roof. Their own private beach on the Indian Ocean — which we haven’t even seen yet. Climate is somewhat cooler than in Gauteng during the height of the noon sun but vastly warmer at night — which suits Rose fine.

Thursday morning I’m up early and need to get some sort of internet access to check my mail. Last time I checked was early Tuesday morning at JNB while we were waiting to be picked up from the airport. Hotel receptionist explains how their WiFi arrangement works — I will need to give my credit card number once I connect to their hotspot. Its only R300 for 30 days which sounds eminently reasonable. But when I type in my visa card number the transaction is declined. (Not really a great surprise after the previous day. I have a good idea why this is. Same thing happened to me when I bought our match tickets 6 months ago. “We got this unusually large foreign currency transaction come through for some outfit called FWCTC somewhere in Switzerland their over-zealous fraud prevention unit told me that time. So much for Visa being the official sponsors of the World Cup!) So I tried my MasterCard instead. And that was refused as well! The hotel can’t charge the internet access to my account (or take cash for it) because its all done on-line directly between the customer and the service provider. So a lengthy phone call back to the UK later (Visa’s emergency international helpline which Fifa so helpfully provided with the tickets was a fat lot of use. All they were able to do was give me the number the UK number which I would have normally called anyway); I am eventually up & running.

The first message I pick up is that the funeral / memorial service for a colleague who passed away on the Saturday before we left UK is on Friday (tomorrow — as I read it) in Pretoria. That’s inconvenient. Shame it couldn’t have been Monday (today) instead, which would have fitted in with our travel arrangements almost perfectly. There is no way I am going to be able to drive back to Pretoria on Friday to arrive for the service at 11.00. Had intended to spend 2 full relaxing days here on the coast before starting off early Saturday morning — to Rustenburg for the England v USA late match — stopping off very briefly in Pretoria just to check in at our overnight accomodation — because we were not expecting to get back (to Pretoria) from Rustenburg after the match until maybe 1 am, or thereabouts. We only arrived here (fairly exhausted) the previous evening. Rose is already moaning about the length of the days’ travels and to get back to Pretoria for Friday morning means we would have to leave again, today (Thurs), as well as finding some further accommodation in the Joburg/Pretoria area for both Thursday and Friday nights. Rose isn’t having it. “If you go, you go on your own and leave me here”. Asking that if I went on my own — how did she imagine that she was she going to get from the coast to Pretoria for the matches on Saturday & Sunday didn’t seem to cut any ice.

I had looked at internal flights within SA months earlier when outline planning our itinerary, with particular reference to how we were going to get to Cape Town. (For either the QF or SF depending on how Ghana get on in the group stage. Plan A was for the QF in Cape Town with the SF in Durban and that was 3:1 favourite at the time. Ghana have to finish precisely 2nd in group D for plan B — SF in Cape Town — to come into effect which looked a very outside shot when I was booking up. But actually looks like a fairly strong favourite now after the 1st round of matches). And found them to be extortionately priced — particularly for the relevant specific dates — it would have cost more to fly from Joburg to Cape Town return for a specific match day than it cost for our return tickets from London to Joburg. And also not all that useful in terms of connections to R Bay. (Only fly to Jburg). So had promptly dismissed the idea of any internal flights between locations as a dead loss. But, what the hell. Decided to have another look; just in case. Got a “day return” flight from RB to OR Tambo leaving at 8am on Friday and arriving back just after 6pm for the same cost as what I had forked out to AutoZone in Pongola the previous day.

Trying to hire a small car for the day in Pretoria was a different matter. Everywhere I looked — apparently all SOLD OUT. Reckoned I could get a taxi to the service in Pretoria from OR Tambo in the morning and probably bum a lift from someone back to the airport in the afternoon if necessary.

Told Rose I would be back to RB in time to watch the opening match on TV together in the evening. For some reason I had it in mind that the SA v Mexico match was an evening (8.30) kick-off. Chatting to the guy sitting next to me on the plane the next morning; he is on his way to Soccer City for the opening ceremony and first match. So; what time does the opening ceremony start, I ask idly. 2pm. What? 5+ hours worth of it? No the match kicks off at 4 pm. I hope Rose decides to switch the TV on around lunchtime — otherwise I am going to be in trouble for having misled her on my return.

On arrival at the airport I try the car-hire desks again. Tempest say “Of course we can let you have a small car for the day. Only too delighted. We only stopped taking internet bookings because of the level of fraud going on.” Looks like its much the same story at the other car hire outfits, too.

Make it to the service only 5 minutes late and slip quietly in at the back just as hey are finishing the opening hymn. Catholic. Never realised he had so many siblings. Strange what you don’t know about someone you have worked with (on & off) for years. Eulogies include some touching comments from some of our SA clients / customers along the lines of what a patient and dignified bloke he was.

At the reception afterwards, I tell the bereaved partner how fondly remembered he is by all who worked with him at our London office. “Well; of course he would be”, she counters. Immediate family all seem unexpectedly cheerful, in the circumstances. Not remotely religious myself but think its nice for people who have strong enough faith that they are happy about the passing of a loved one on the grounds that they truly believe he has moved on to a better place. Get several offers for our (or at least Rose’s) ticket(s) for the England v USA match on Saturday.

Afterwards; traffic in Pretoria is appalling. Everyone seems to be trying to head towards Joburg. Decide I had better not waste any time checking out our accomodation for the week-end (which I had vague ideas of doing beforehand if I had spare time before the flight back) or likely to get stuck in a traffic jam and risk missing my return flight.

On the way back to Richards Bay, the captain announces “for those who are interested — SA are leading 1-0 with around 30 minutes left to play” but we don’t get to hear the final score. On return I find that Rose had some sort of inspiration to turn the tv on and watch the match, which she enjoyed. But missed the opening ceremony, which she is a bit miffed about, but fortunately I don’t get the blame for that.

Agree that we wil pack up everything possible before going to bed tonight and be ready to leave at first light (6.30) the following morning because we are going to have an exceptionally long day / drive and will be cutting it fine for time. In the event, we don’t leave until 7.20 on Saturday morning.

I had given a lot of thought Friday evening (and early Saturday morning while waiting for Rose to get herself ready) re what route to take. Determined to avoid the Pongola – Piet Retief section of the N2, at least. But how could I know for sure that we wouldn’t encounter similar hold-ups for roadworks on other routes? Decided on the R34 and R33 to Piet Retief which turned out to be a good choice. Beautiful roads to drive through the mountains with stunning scenery. And at the few roadworks where we did have to stop, there was so little traffic on a Saturday morning that we didn’t have to wait too long for our turn. The second half of the journey to Pretoria wasn’t so great. The stretch of N2 from Piet Retief to Ermelo no better than the Piet Retief to Pongola section. And the N4 from Middelburg into Pretoria, although beautifully maintained, very expensive, in both tolls and fuel consumption.

Arrived in Pretoria just before 4 pm which was at the most optimistic end of my range of expectations. Then spent the next half-hour trying to find our accom for the night and getting lost. The written directions that I had received from the landlords and the satnav were giving me contradictory instructions. And I was trying to follow a sort of concensus / compromise between the two. Which was a mistake. Should have plumped for either one and followed that literally and completely ignored the other.

Around 4.30 we arrive at our booked accom which turns out to be a new-build housing development where the developers / agents appear to have opportunistically decided to rent out the un-sold or un-let units on a per-night basis during the world cup. The estate security guard first directs us to a different entrance at the other end of the estate. Then, when we return, having failed to gain any access there (not being “residents” with security pass combinations) and point out the estate management office immediately behind him — which is presumably where we need to check in, find out which specific unit we have been allocated, and collect our keys / security passes / combinations or whatever, for later that night — by this point we are getting so pressed for time that we are not even intending to unload our luggage from the van — just collect what we will need to gain access later and hurry on to Rustenburg. We are told that the management / agents are only on site on Saturdays from 11.00 to 2.00 pm and they won’t be back until 11.00 ‘tomorrow’. We think about trying to phone their main office and make a stink, but only briefly. Best case, they send someone out to the estate to check us in (the ’security’ guard is an old guy — its obviously not is fault and he seems as bemused as we are. He also obviously doesn’t have any authority to let us in), we are likely to have to wait maybe an hour for them to show up — which we cannot afford. From the security guy’s demeanour, the implication is that we won’t find anyone answering their main office phone this afternoon anyway. So we decide not to waste any more time here and push on to Rustenburg for the match. We are going to be spending the night in the van, after all.

By 6.30 we are on the N4 about 10k short of Rustenberg, beginning to think that maybe we are going to make it to the stadium comfortably in time for kick-off (8.30) after all. Then we hit the queue for the last toll gate. An hour later we are through the toll plaza and moving at more than walking pace again. Its our first match and although I thought we had checked out the directions as thoroughly as we could; not as thoroughly as we subsequently did (with the benefit of hindsight) for other matches. Seemed it wouldn’t have made any difference if we had known more precisely where we wanted to go, anyway, since the police were directing everyone, in single file, where THEY wanted us to go – and if we had wanted to try & get to a different ‘park & ride’ drop-off point – didn’t look as if we would have had any options.
As we get close enough to catch sight of the stadium, traffic control is getting more & more shambolic. Every other car is stopping at each turn – to seemingly argue with the police / stewards about which way they want to go. Most getting nowhere for their pains – apart from holding everyone else up. A lot of people starting to ignore the stewards’ directions (who are pointing us AWAY from the stadium) and just parking up on the verges, central reservations, everywhere. Others just stopping to let their passengers out (and holding everyone else up while they do that) before continuing where they are being pointed to (and obviously don’t really want to go). Rose is urging me to follow suit, but I am dubious. Don’t want to risk getting the van towed away for being parked illegally – and its not quite as manouvreable as most private cars – meaning that when we do spot a plausible space where we might park up on the verge, relatively safely and without blocking anyone else – someone else has nabbed it, before we get a chance. Try to be good citizens and go where the stewards tell us. “Park & Ride down there” one of them tells me – pointing further away from the stadium. We take the turn indicated – no-one following us now. No sign of any car park. Eventually give that up and make our way back to where we had got our last directions from. Told exactly the same thing again. “How FAR down there?” I ask. Not unreasonably, since we have already been down there once. He has no idea. Turns out, like 90% of the police and stewards on duty he is not local and has no better idea than we do exactly where it is that we are supposed to go. He is just telling us what someone else has told him to say. We eventually spot the ‘Park & Ride’ facility that we have apparently been directed to. Its an enormous field across the dual carriageway just a few hundred meteres from where we got our last directions – and requires us to do a u-turn almost immediately after where we were told “down there”. (nobody told us that). We do the u-turn and are OUTSIDE the car park. But we can’t get in. There only seems to be a single entrance / exit – from which is being disgorged a stream of mini-buses ferrying people to the stadium. We briefly try to make our way against the flow – but are being blared at by the minibus shuttle taxis to get out of their way – and quickly give that up. Find a spot to park on the verge – almost outside the P&R entrance/exit – which we could have done half an hour earlier.
It is dark and we have completely lost all sense of direction by now – have been directed around and around all over the place. But we can see the stadium floodlights – so know where we need to get to. Its not really too far to walk. (Maybe a mile or so). But Rose is not having any of that. Manage to flag down a shuttle bus which seems to have been sent out to pick up stragglers. He drops us off about 2/3 of the way to the stadium. We still have a 10-minute walk to the ticket-check gate. Through the first security check and inside the stadium grounds just in time to hear the national anthems – and then the whistle for the start of the game. But our tickets are for a seating block all the way around the other end of the ground from where we came in. Still making our way around and trying to persuade Rose that we don’t have time to stop for more photos outside as we hear the roar for Gerrard’s goal. (Eventually get to see that during the big-screen pre-match entertainment before the Ghana-Serbia match the next day).
Our seats are in one of the corners and way up high at the back. But we have a decent view. The crowd doesn’t seem to be segregated into USA and England sections at all. US, English, SA and misc other nationalities all mixed together, which is refreshing. England support appears to outnumber US by about 3 to 1. England are obviously superior on the pitch but not playing at all fluently. Heskey trying hard and looks one of the best players – which says a lot about the rest. Not a great performance – but England look comfortable in their 1-0 lead. Until US on a relatively rare breakaway after half an hour, ends in an apology for a shot – more like a defender’s back-pass – but somehow Green the England goalkeeper fumbles it through his hands and US have equalised. Still no real panic for England. Still obviously superior, but don’t look like scoring again before half-time.
What a howler! What is Capello going to do with Green. We don’t expect to see him back out for the second half – but there he is. Maybe the manager’s hand forced by injuries to other players. Couldn’t afford to ‘waste’ another sub on the keeper.
Green partially redeems himself with one decent save in the 2nd half. As it wears on, England look less and less like scoring a winner. The US contingent in the crowd become more & more vocal and start to make themselves heard as the 2nd half wears on and it starts to look as if they might escape with an unlikely point. Crouch replaces Heskey for the last 10 minutes. A last throw of the dice. And England’s overall performance deteriorates further, as a result. A draw. A poor match.
The banter amongst the crowd has been good-natured throughout. But on our way out we almost literally bump into a drunken England lout with blood streaming from his nose. Presumably made some offensive comment which someone took exception to. And got his just desserts.
Outside the stadium there are signposts for shuttle pick-up points for 2 main ‘Park & Ride’ facilities pointing in opposite directions. We have no idea which one we had eventually parked at (by name) and have a difference of opinion regarding which direction we had approached the stadium from on the shuttle bus. Rose is adamant that she took photos of the stadium from the right-hand side of the bus, as we approached. Her argument seems to be logically sound, so despite my misgivings, I reluctantly go along with it.
No-one seems to know exactly where the shuttle bus pick-up point is supposed to be for the car park which we have opted to return to. There are no signs of any buses picking up regular punters. Only buses managing to inch their way through the throng are for press or VIPs only. Eventually a few buses manage to make their way through which appear to be taking regular supporters. But they are all already full. No-one knows where they were picking up from. Rumours start to go around that the buses are parked (and picking up from) over there, or over there. And the crowds start to follow each other around in response to each rumour; like sheep. (Stewards and police are no help whatever. They are just as bemused as everyone else). Some of the more aggressive young male groups start banging on doors of already-full-to-capacity buses. A very few manage to force their way on. The vast majority of the crowd seem to eventually give this up as a bad job and start to trudge their way on foot in the vague direction of where they think their car park is. We follow suit. We walk (with frequent stops for rests and/or futile attempts to flag down passing buses) for what seems like hours and miles. I reckon we have already walked considerably further, by the time we eventually manage to flag down a bus driver who takes pity on us, than the distance from where we parked to the stadium on the way in. Which increases my serious misgivings about whether we are anyway heading in the right direction, at all. Its a good 15-20 minute ride on the bus, once we are picked up – to the ‘main’ (R104) car park where we are dropped off. I know 100% by this time that this (miles away) is no way the place where we parked. But Rose won’t give up and insists on us searching the area where we have been dropped off; looking for the van. Eventually, I manage to persuade her to see sense. We beg another bus driver to take us back to the stadium – which he does reluctantly (he is ignoring his controller’s instructions to pack up for the night). And then another one to take us from the stadium to the correct park & ride facility – where we had parked the van outside – which turns out to be no more than a 5-minute ride in the opposite direction.
By the time we get back to the van its nearly 2 am. The fiasco regarding our intended accommodation for the night in Pretoria seems somewhat irrelevant now, because we probably would not have wanted to drive back at this hour, now, even if we had somewhere to stay the night. Find a deserted shopping mall to park up for the night. Its surprisingly not as uncomfortable in the back of the van as we had imagined. We are not properly equipped for spending the night camping out. No sleeping bags. But too exhausted to be worried too much about the cold. Neither of us sleeps much. Although Rose dozes off for a while intermittently. At dawn; head off back to civilization.

Consider trying the Wicked campsite in Joburg Sunday morning. Feeling somewhat grimy and badly in need of hot showers. (Anything hot; really). But Rose is adamant that we go directly to Pretoria – where we have another match, this afternoon. No detours via Johannesburg. At least we manage to get some hot food from a 24-hour KFC. Now we have time to kill. The earliest check-in time for our guest-house for tonight (NOT the same place as last night) is 12.00 mid-day. After last night’s mis-haps – we go to the other extreme and spend a couple of hours checking out the routes around between to and from the Loftus Versfeld stadium and the Park & Ride facility from all angles. It makes a difference that we are doing this in daylight this morning – unlike last night. And I also know central Pretoria, vaguely, having been here several times before, but not for many years. The SatNav (GPS) is not much help in the city centre — because it keeps insisting on trying to take us down roads which have been closed off.

At least its a warm sunny morning. Around 11 – we phone the guest house to ask whether (although earliest official check-in time isn’t until 12) we might check in early; to shower & change etc – since we have been out all night. No. We can check in at 12.00 – but rooms won’t be available until 2.00 pm. That’s the way it goes. Yesterday, by 2.00 pm, the agents/management for our supposed accommodation had already packed up and disappeared for the day by 2.00 pm (and we were still some 200km away). Today – we can’t get our room before 2.00! That’s going to be tricky. Based on last night’s experience; we have decided that in future we need to be at the stadium 2 hours before kick-off – which is at 4 pm today. And we don’t know what the traffic is going to be like getting from the guest-house back to the stadium. Decide that is going to be cutting it too fine and so agree that we will check-in late, after the match.

After doing a reconnoitre to establish exactly where the guest house is for later reference – north of the city, apparently only approachable (according to the GPS) via a small toll on the N1 – head back into town and use the facilities at another shopping mall to change. Full change of outfit for Rose. I change my T-shirt. With hindsight, probably ought to have changed socks as well – which are fairly rank, by now.

Since we don’t have anything much else to do, after changing, make our way at leisurely pace to the stadium. The organisation in Pretoria (Tshwane) is as efficient as it was shambolic the previous night at Rustenburg. Although it probably also helped no end both that it was daylight; we knew exactly where we wanted to go, having checked it out beforehand; and most of all that we were one of the first to arrive, rather than one of the last. Our seats today are almost at the front pitch-side – in the section which you would normally expect to be standing-only terracing — particularly at a Rugby ground. Strange-looking old-fashioned stadium, Loftus, in contrast to all the other grounds we visit. I have been here before (to a pop concert – UB40) on a client’s corporate ‘do’; and don’t remember it being so quirkily antique – but that was 15 years ago or thereabouts. We will get wet if it rains. But there is no chance of that. Its a lovely warm sunny Sunday afternoon. As the ground gradually fills up its obvious that the Serbians are going to be vastly outnumbered. They have a few small groups of ridiculously exuberant fans. But there seem to be hordes of Ghanaians. And a large percentage of local Pretorians, who are all supporting Ghana. Vuvuzelas are rampant. Everybody is enjoying themselves. Although someone should maybe tell them that the Mexican wave is now at least 40 years old (Mexico 1970) and not really very original or clever any more.

I am surprised to see the half-Ghanaian Tottenham reject Kevin-Prince Boateng make Ghana’s starting 11, ahead of Sulley Muntari. To be honest; I was surprised that he even made the 23-man squad. May well not have done, but for Essien’s injury. But the coach must have seen something from him in training and he plays like a man inspired. Man of the match by some distance. Serbia are a classy outfit and play some decent stuff – but Ghana have a strong defence and midfield. The longer the match goes on, the more self-belief and confidence the Ghanaians seem to gain and by the second half are certainly looking the better team. But their Achilles heel — don’t look likely to score, in a million years. Then; a cross – only one or two at the far side of the box to aim for – and not looking particularly likely to amount to anything much. But the Serbian centre-back gets himself badly positioned (maybe the ball swerves in the wind?) and when he realises that he is not going to be able to reach it to head away, inexplicably(?) reaches up and palms it. I’m sure it must be a penalty. It was blatant. But no immediate appeals from the Ghana players . Everyone seems to be doing a double-take. Referee runs over to consult with his linesman on the far side. And runs back holding / patting his arm signalling hand-ball and penalty. The Serb defender argues vehemently. Can’t understand why. Maybe he is claiming that he heard whistle – or linesman had flag up for off-side. Whatever; its a penalty and Asamoah Gyan crashes it into the top of the net; Shearer-like, no subtlelty or placement, just power.

Cue pandemonium in the crowd. Ghanaians are going mad. Players are really nervous for the last 5 minutes, kicking it anywhere. Serbia seemed to play better since they were down to 10-men than they did with 11. But Ghana hold out for a 1-0 win. More celebrations. Everybody is dancing. Even Rose is dancing on the way out of the ground – which she swore should have been impossible given how sore her feet were from the night before. Ghanaians know how to celebrate. Seems much more fun supporting Ghana than England.

Just as efficient organisation on the way out of the ground as on the way in; and we are back at our guesthouse in time to switch on for kick-off of Germany v Australia; the other match in ‘our’ group. 30 minutes in, with Germany already 2-0 up and murdering the Aussies, I crash out.