6. Kowie River Mouth to Kariega River Mouth

6. Kowie River Mouth to Kariega River Mouth 

 

17 August 2011

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raw & untamed

Cath had booked a week’s accommodation at Kowies River Lodge using her timeshare points as a base to host the Humewood ladies during the annual EP vs. Border Ladies Championship at the Port Alfred Golf Club. The golf took place over the weekend of 13th & 14th August, but because a full week’s accommodation was booked, I decided to join the group and would see if the fish were biting while they played golf. The ladies left on Sunday afternoon, and Cath and I stayed alone for the rest of the week. The weather was terrible with rain and strong winds over the weekend. 

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However, the weather improved, and with it being spring tide that week, I decided to walk all along the coast towards Kasouga that Wednesday morning while Cath visited some family friends in Port Alfred. Cath agreed she would fetch me from Kasouga that afternoon. I packed my green fishing bag as a rucksack and set off from the wooden cabins near the harbour wall, walking along the beach.

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At 09:26, I started walking on the beachfront road, passing Kelly's Beach and then stepping onto the sand. I walked past the new modern holiday complex, Flame Lily Resort, and stopped to take my first photo of the day. Shortly after, I passed the “Spinning Reels” guesthouse, where we had stayed for a weekend when Carl (my youngest of my two boys) introduced us to his first wife, Courtney, and where Gen (my other son’s first wife) planned their wedding. What makes this guesthouse unique is that it is not visible from the beach as it’s hidden behind a dune. 

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From this point on not much happens… Quite quickly it was nothing but beach, sand dunes, and the vast ocean. At 10:44, I took a photo of the Glendower Monument standing tall on the hill, overlooking the sea. It was the first time I noticed this monument, even though I’d driven past it many times before. Now, I look at it every time I pass by. Funny how that happens - once noticed, something can be easily flagged again. How much exists unnoticed?

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The photos I took captured the vastness of the beaches and sand dunes—endless sky, sea, and sand. I had walked non-stop for two hours and hadn’t seen any form of life. The tide quickly lowered, and I remember feeling quite small and quite alone… I didn’t spot a bird, a footprint, or even washed-up shells or rocks. My feelings of loneliness and isolation were soon dispelled when a big, colorful coral tree washed up at my feet. I picked it up and immediately felt recharged. It felt like a gift or a reward for my effort to fulfill my dream of walking this coastline. (I still have this coral tree today!)

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Not 30 minutes later, I came across another creature—or creatures—leaving a network of snail tracks in the sand above the retreating small waves. In the distance, I could see a rocky outcrop running into the sea, followed by a blind corner. I wondered if the tide was low enough to walk on those rocks and around the “blind corner.” By 11:26, I reached the rocks, and since the tide was low, I easily crossed them. Five minutes later, I rounded the blind corner, only to find yet another stretch of beach and sand dunes as far as the eye could see.

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This repetitive view often made me remind myself that every step was a step closer to something new. The weather was perfect, and with the tide so low, walking was easy and fast. Around 12:00, I was rewarded when the skeleton of a wrecked ship came into view. I rested for a while, admiring the wreck, before noticing another “blind corner” in the distance, where another rocky outcrop jutted into the sea. At 12:04, I reached the outcrop and was pleased to find that the tide was low enough to walk across the flat, moss-covered rocks.

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At the end of this rocky point, I was greeted by a special sculpted rock that resembled a stranded fishing trawler, fossilized in stone. It was remarkable to see such a singular rock formation in the middle of kilometers of unbroken beach and sand dunes. This area is only accessible at low tide, and few people have ventured so far off the beaten track. However, my delight quickly faded as I was greeted with more of the same—sandy beach disappearing into the horizon. I started to wonder how far Kasouga still was, as the endless scenery began to wear on me.

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At 12:47, I came across another shipwreck on the beach. I recognized the small lagoon nearby as Kasouga. Despite feeling physically strong, the repetitive beach scenery and the long walk were starting to take a toll. The weather was still perfect, with no wind, and the low tide and hard sand made walking easier. I decided to push on, as I knew I wouldn’t get another opportunity to walk in such good conditions.

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By 13:40, I saw a huge house on the horizon—the first sign of development since the Glendower Tower. This was also the first time I’d seen anything besides natural terrain since I’d left Port Alfred. However, the sand started to soften, and I began leaving deep footprints behind me, feeling my strength waning. The softening sand made walking harder, and I struggled to maintain my balance on the rocks I had to cross.

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At 13:55, I finally reached the Kariega River Mouth, where I crossed a large rock formation, again made possible by the low tide. I followed the river bank and found a footpath that led up to a cottage. From there, I followed a small vehicle road for about 1 km until I reached a closed gate that led onto the N37 main road. I phoned Cath to tell her that I was on my way to Kenton-on-Sea, but would wait for her at the Kariega Bridge, where there was a cement picnic table and bench under the trees.

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At 14:45, I took my last photo of the hike at the Kariega Bridge and waited for Cath to pick me up about 30 minutes later. We then headed back to Port Alfred.