21. Kayser’s Beach to Keiskamma (Hamburg)

21. Kaiser’s Beach to Keiskamma (Hamburg)

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18 March 2022 - 19 March 2022

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at the edge of fear and providence

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[Kaiser’s Beach heading south…. Towards PE]

 

Friday: 18 March 2022

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I left Port Elizabeth just after midday with Cath in the X-Trail. It was Spring Tide again, and I was eager to walk from Kayser's Beach to Hamburg. However, I needed to cross two large rivers—Tyolomnqa and Keiskamma—both of which have deep channels and strong currents. I'd booked accommodation at a B&B in Kidds Beach, as it was the nearest place to my starting point at Kayser's Beach. Cath would drop me off and then drive the 60 km inland road to Hamburg to pick me up after the walk.

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I turned off the main road onto a small dirt track towards Kiwane Resort, hoping to get closer to the Tyolomnqa River Mouth to inspect the terrain. Unfortunately, the road led to a dead end about 2 km from the mouth of the river. I turned around and retraced my route through small villages and schools, asking a neatly dressed man for alternative directions. He replied that it wasn’t safe to visit the beach alone. I guess he had no idea that I had been doing exactly this for some time now! He was carrying a six-pack of yogurt for his child and it seemed safe to provide the lift he was asking for.

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While we drove, I asked the man about crossing the river. He confirmed that it was possible to walk through it at low tide, but only along the beach. We dropped him off where he pointed out his wife and young son. Cath and I checked into the B&B at Kidds Beach, and before sunset, we went to the local restaurant for dinner. I had my usual— a large pizza and a beer—and by 9:00 PM, I was in bed.

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Saturday: 19 March 2022

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After a peaceful night’s sleep and a morning coffee, we left Kidds Beach around 8:00 AM and drove to Kayser's Beach. It was a misty morning, the tide was going out, and the conditions were perfect for walking. The first stretch, about 4 km, was easy and mostly on the beach, with only a few rocky sections. A jogger with her dog passed me just before the Tyolomnqa River. She turned at the river, and I stopped her to ask if she could wait until I was safely on the other side. The tide was moving fast, and I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t lose my footing and risk being swept out to sea. Her name was Charmaine, from East London, and her husband was fishing on the rocks at Kayser's Beach where I had started my hike. More help from strangers. More providence. 

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I took off my walking shoes and put on sandals in case of rocks or anything sharp while wading through the river. The current at the bottom was so strong that it curled the front section of my sandals underneath and loosened the Velcro straps. Despite the struggle, I managed to wade through the river, the water reaching up to my waist, and my bag and phone stayed dry. I waved and thanked Charmaine and then stopped at nearby rocks to dry my feet and put my shoes back on. It was 10:13 AM when I snapped a photo and had an energy bar as a reward—first river challenge conquered.

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I was still sitting on the rocks when I noticed two black men emerge from the bush onto the beach, followed by a group of about ten more on the rocks further down. As I walked toward them, they all watched me until I was close enough for them to ask where I was from and where I was going. Some were wearing wetsuits, while others appeared rough and simply stared at me with what I felt were sinister gazes. For the first time in all my solo hikes, I must admit I felt a bit nervous, especially when one man asked if I had a wetsuit for him. I quickly realized I had encountered an illegal perlemoen (abalone) gang, and I remembered the warning I’d heard yesterday about the dangers of the river mouth area.

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Then, from across the rocks, I saw the exact same man I’d given a lift to the day before. He asked if I recognized him, and I confirmed that I did. He wanted to know if I was still planning to go to Hamburg, and then he simply said, "Enjoy the walk." Everyone around me turned back toward the sea and resumed their activities. About 500 meters further along, I spotted a large bag covered with netting on a rocky shelf. I walked past it, knowing I was still being watched. Nobody followed me, and I continued my walk alone for the next hour.

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During this time, many thoughts crossed my mind: Was God or an angel watching over me? What if I hadn’t met this man or given him a lift yesterday? Why did they trust me? Did my calmness and broken Xhosa help? Did they see Charmaine and her dog waiting for me to cross the river? I still don’t know.

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At 11:05 AM, I found a large tree stump washed up on the shore and decided to take a rest. The previous hour had been intense—walking quicker than usual to get away from the gang while also racing the tide to get to the next river before it became too full to cross. A thick bank of mist hung over the sea, and although it was still good walking weather, the blue sky was missing. After my rest, the long stretches of empty beach began to feel monotonous, but I knew every step brought me closer to my destination. I could see the tree-lined coastline ahead, the same path I had walked before from Bigha to Hamburg.

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Hamburg slowly came into view as heavy rain clouds started to build inland. I encountered a group of happy children swimming in shallow water and throwing sand at each other. They posed for a photo, and I gave them a packet of liquorice sweets. Not a parent or adult was in sight. I asked if they were from Hamburg, but they said they were from a village on the other side of the river. The river was too deep for them to cross, but it was only about a kilometer further down the beach. It was now 12:46 PM, and the tide was still low, just as planned.

Ten minutes later, I reached the river mouth. I put all my valuables into Tupperware, took a video, and walked upstream to find the narrowest channel. As soon as I entered the water, I realized I would need to swim to cross. Surprisingly, I found that the plastic bottles in my bag and the straps on my rucksack created enough buoyancy to float. The swim was short—about 10 to 15 meters—before I reached the other side and walked the sandy path toward a small bar where Cath was waiting at Hamburg Caravan Park.

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At 1:39 PM, I was reunited with Cath, holding the sweetest tasting 1.5-liter Black Label beer in my hand. Though I was wet, I was grateful to be safe. At 2:48 PM, we drove out of Hamburg, back home to Port Elizabeth, and took a final photo of the Keiskamma River I had just crossed an hour earlier.

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If we are always changing then everything we see is as if looking at it for the first time. And I am beginning to realise that perhaps for the first time, but also afresh, that the world might be arranged just enough for me to find a safe passage through the many rivers that might yet be waiting..

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