Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
tough but lovely ride there and back, green farmland and blue gum forestation as far as the
eye could see.
I loved riding through the avenues of tall swaying Eucalyptus Australatus. They are by far
my favorite trees. They invoke a memory in me, going back to when I was a young boy
growing up in an exciting Johannesburg back when you could walk down any main street
in the center of the bustling gold rich town without fear of being robbed, raped, murdered,
or shot up. One could drive out of town and, within a few miles, especially south or south-
west of Johannesburg you would find avenues of these tall, cool trees swaying majestically
as they lined the dirt roads in their regal way. They were the subject of many fine works of
art from the old oil masters.
I can just see the old, black cars, the Fords and Chevys, the Packards and Dodges with their
open dickey seats at the back, those built in the thirties, forties, and fifties, back when own-
ing a car was for life, driving stylishly and slowly along these roads. Time was just time
back then and not a commodity as it is now marketed.
These trees were brought in to South Africa by settlers and adapted so well to their new
environment that due to the similar conditions they were used too in Australia, and they
soon were flourishing beyond control. The very smell of the Eucalyptus is healthy and in-
vigorating, and as for the wood smoke it produces in a campfire, why it takes me back
again to when my mom and dad, bless them, would bundle all the kids in the old family
Austin A Forty loaded with picnic baskets, blankets, and outdoor toys. Sheila, Gavin, and I,
and maybe a friend or two, would be whisked off to the Magaliesberg mountains or some-
where out in the country where we would spend the day capering madly about in the wild
summer sun with not a care in the world. My father would gather branches and twigs of
these fragrant trees and would create a heavenly smelling fire. Mom would then spread out
the blankets on the ground and adorn them with hard boiled eggs, scones, salads, and cold
chicken that she had prepared in time for the tea that dad had made on his fire. Condensed
milk or evaporated milk was always used, and we would fall on the picnic blankets with
great appetites.
I continued to jog my six miles every other day and, after a few runs, found a suitable
course that I used for almost a year. One day when I was experimenting with different
routes, I noticed a police patrol car following discreetly behind me. I thought at first it was
a coincidence, but deliberately going down a little side street and out into the suburb, I
noticed the car shadowing me again. I used to run with big lava rocks in my hand that I
had brought from Hawaii. It suddenly dawned on me that I must look a little odd with my
bandana wrapped around my head, running with very skimpy shorts and naked torso, and
carrying two large rocks. The car eventually drew up alongside, and I smiled at the officers.
They were not very friendly and asked what I was doing. I told them that I was jogging
