Chapter 27

Anticipating the end of the flight, I sighed. This was one of those long multi-hop flights.

First, we flew Swakopmund to Lüderitz, to let Angie get all her stuff from Roland’s house. Then we flew to Windhoek. “Why?” you would ask. Well, a certain Sticky-icky little snot-nose sister needed to be with someone who was on his way to Windhoek. Yes, you guessed it. Things are going very well between Lorie and TC. I just hope that this will be good for her.

Then we flew on to a hidden-away little airfield near the town of Brits in the Northwest Province of South Africa, there to offload some cargo and the three Angels. This time I scored three kisses on my cheek, under the watchful eye of Angie.

With just a short delay, we took off again. This in itself was a good thing. There were TWO green-eyed red-haired girls on that airfield. The one guy there (Dave, I think), called them Battery-acid and Dynamite! He handles them with due caution I suppose. Now can you imagine the mayhem if Angie joined their ranks? Disaster and world domination would be on the cards. Heaven help us.

One redhead is plenty, but three together? Nope. Although Angie’s eyes shone upon finding “sisters,” she proceeded to get acquainted in the very short while it took us to refuel the DC-3, I tried to keep their interaction to a minimum. This in spite of the looks and sharp remarks by the other members of our little travel consortium.

Then it was 625 kilometres straight as the crow flies towards Margate on the KwaZulu Natal south coast, just scraping the Lesotho border near Giants Castle on the Drakensberg. Flying at 8500 feet and an indicated airspeed of 200 knots, we were an hour and a half flying time away. Now only 40 minutes remained, and I was eager to get home.

Giants Castle in the Drakensberg slipped past our right-side wingtip. From 8500 feet the huge mountain range looked blue-grey, with here and there still some winter snow glistening on the high peaks. Giants Castle, at 10875 feet at its summit, towered above the rest. Angie, Friederich and Gretah were awed by its beauty. The sheer cliffs of the Drakensberg, dropping down to the lush green countryside of KwaZulu Natal had them on the edges of their seats.

Far out in the haze on our left side, the azure blue of the Indian Ocean started to make its appearance. Just past Sunduza, Johannesburg Air Traffic Control passed us over to King Shaka International for further flight following. I requested and was granted permission to go below transition level and maintain 2000 feet. This I did to showcase the majestic Oribi Gorge with its two rivers flowing through and around the gorge.

The larger of the two, the Mzimkhulwana river, flows east to Port Shepstone. It joins up with the muddy Mzimhulu River before they both flow into the Indian Ocean. The twin rivers mouth near the north part of Port Shepstone, close by the black and white painted lighthouse, and turn the sea to muddy brown after a heavy rain. Far out to sea, one will see the muddy water turning the azure blue of the sea brown, resembling an island, yet it is a moving ocean of sea swells and breakers, rolling out along the sandy seashore.

Just by the start of the canyon, with its thousand-foot cliffs of the Oribi Gorge starting to carve into the mesa-like Oribi flats, and the sugar cane fields, there is a place called the Lake Eland Game Reserve. This reserve boasts the longest zip-line in Africa at just over one and a half kilometres in length. Okay, it’s not just one long zip-line. No, it is divided into 14 segments; the nicest one being Hell’s Gate. That takes you over the river from the one side of the gorge to the other side at a staggering 100 kilometres an hour and a height of 1000 feet! I wonder how adventurous Angie would be.

With the wind out of the south, ATC vectored me to fly straight in on runway 23. I needed just half of the 4,300 feet runway, and turned off directly onto the apron.

We were home. Due to the size of the DC-3 TP, there was no hangar available for her, so we left her on the parking apron “B,” and secured her.

Then it was on to Southbroom. Following the winding Marine Road with its lush subtropical vegetation had all in awe. Here and there between the high wild strelitzias and palm trees, the Indian Ocean flickered in and out of view. The strelitzias, especially the smaller variety, are also known by its common name; the bird of paradise flower. The drive to the penthouse took just fifteen minutes, and we were home to another surprise. For me at least, the biggest surprise of all.

Riding the elevator to the firth floor penthouse was silent and with no sensation of moving. Only the slight jolt at the top and the double doors silently sliding open, revealing the inside of the penthouse foyer.

Angie’s eyes were large pools of emerald green, taking in the sights of the penthouse open plan interior. Not far behind, Gretah and Friederich echoed Angie’s reaction. It was always a kick to me, to see the reaction of friends invited over to the penthouse with its one eighty-degree seafront view all along the unspoiled subtropical coast. Lush vegetation framed the cream-white streaked beach and azure blue breakers washed in and out along the pebble strewn beach. In the early mornings and late evenings, hundreds and thousands of pink ghost crabs roamed the sandy soil in the receding waters of the waves.

The biggest surprise for me came in the form of dinner spread across the large dining room table. Standing there dressed in his immaculate dark suit was Cookie. It was not so much of a meal spread, but more in line with finger foods to be savoured while relaxing on the deck of the penthouse.

“Anton! What a surprise. You were the last one I would have expected to see around my place,” I said, as I took his hand in mine to make him feel welcome at the penthouse.

“The pleasure will be all mine, Mister Windsor. Seeing that I am sort of, uh ... unemployed, our mutual friend and boss suggested that I busy myself within your realm of expected business,” Cookie said as he opened a bottle of semi-sweet white wine. “Adelpracht, 2013. A good year for the produce on the West Coast. I take it that Miss Angie would approve as well.”

Angie, still a little taken aback at the surroundings of the penthouse, cleared her throat. “It will be wonderful, Cookie. Please don’t be shy with the offering,” and she gave Cookie a hug.

And so started a relaxing afternoon that rolled into evening. I was once distracted as my cell phone chimed an incoming call; a call I had to take.

“Through the sands of time, the past, present and the future are interwoven into a multi-colour cloth of spectacular brilliance...”, I mused.

“You now changed to philosophy?”

“No, it’s the relaxing influence of my penthouse, my fleabag cat, and some awesome company.”

“I bet that the redhead will be some good company.”

“So, you did not call just to see if I’m home?”

“Nope! Just some feedback. It seems like old Max and his present band of newly found friends have reached some agreement.”