A swift morning pack up commences in the rain. I don’t feel apathetic towards it in the slightest, rather energised. That being said I spend roughly 50% of the time watching the waves; big, stormy and peeling down the point. They finally capture my attention enough to suit up and head out.
I get bullied by the ocean, there’s no other way to describe it. Perfect waves wrap down the inside of the point, just out of reach. A formidable current claws at my heels, only just allowing me to make some distance up the point before pulling me back the moment I take a rest. There weren’t any waves to write home about, energy levels dip substantially and I call it.
A delightful 4x4 trip takes us to Membene, a recommendation that was too good to turn down. Glamorous chalets nestled in the dense coastal bush with interlinking boardwalks. It’s a cross between the Kruger, Cape Point and the Knysna forrest. We settle into a fantastically setup campsite and I promptly have a sleep.
A run takes us on the tour. Weaving forrest pathways set us up for a dune ridge line board walk that indicates the restaurant and chalets. We cut back via the inland lake. A small crocodile runs for the water and we run for our lives.
I kick Julian’s cocky ass in a game of chess to redeem myself after the savage loss yesterday. We eat a chicken and piece of hake that cost as much as the camping.