Wild Gravity

I don't like heights.

No, actually I hate them. Standing in high places makes me dizzy. It makes me nauseous. It makes me irritable, uncomfortable, and generally unhappy. It doesn't have to be high... the average 3rd floor balcony of any apartment block is enough to send me retreating like a French soldier.

You can imagine then, that as I stood at the top of the Bloukrans River Bridge, near Storms River, with my toes curled over the edge, looking between my feet at the bottom of the gorge 216m away, I was feeling a tad nervous.

216m? Why that's more than:

a) A 53-storey building
b) The average rushing offense for the Oakland Raiders in a season
c) 215m!

Right, pretty high. So why had I chosen to put myself in a position that would so obviously scare the Dickens out of me? Because I was bungee jumping. From the highest bungee platform on Earth.

Here's how it works: pay your 580 Rand and listen to a 5 minute pep talk. Then walk from the side of the gorge tot he platform in the center. The walkway floor is only an iron grate, so you're already fighting off demons on the way. Get to the middle, have the rope attached to your ankle by some dude, 54321 and you're flying. It's a tight, professional operation and they even have a DJ spinning tracks on the platform so you can listen to Jay-Z's phat beats while pissing your pants in anticipation.

Now I know that bungee jumping has been around for ages and that I'm not exactly conquering new ground by doing it. But have YOU ever tried? I'm not often at a loss for words, but I would have a lot of difficulty describing to you how I felt during those first few seconds of freefall. Your body responds to every sensation (the rushing air, the instantaneous vertigo, the eerie silence) by pumping adrenaline, so by the time you reach the apex of the jump and begin recoiling into a spin towards the top, your heart is beating at an unprecedented rate and you feel as if though you are the greatest person on Earth and that even Beyonce can't resist you now!

The unique thing about bungeeing at Bloukrans is that they don't lower you to the bottom - you hang upside down about 100m up, until someone rappels down, attaches you to himself, and the two of you are hoisted back to the platform. So you spend a lot of time suspended in midair.

And were those few moments of exhilaration worth having to endure the fearsome prelude? Yes. Would I do it again? Uh huh. Conquer your fears and you will be rewarded, young Grasshopper. Besides, driving with my friend Emily is far more dangerous anyway.

Step Into Liquid

Every year, the Billabong Pro Surf Tour showcases the most elite surfing talent at prime break spots around the world. In early July, the Tour makes its only stop on the African continent at South Africa's veritable Mecca of surfing: Jeffrey's Bay.

J-Bay is a small town, though what it lacks it size it makes up for in craziness. Bars, surf shops, hot women, white sand and a Hell of a lot of waves draw people from all over to the shores of J-Bay, and the fervour reaches its zenith during the Billabong event.

Well, I wish I could tell you that I showed up in time for the competition, but I was 2 days late. Could have made it, though I probably would have ended up sleeping in a dumpster because the place books up months in advance. Not to worry though, since it turned out there was a nice surprise waiting for me when I arrive. By the way, sorry Iain, I know you sleep in a dumpster every night, I'm just saying...

J-Bay has six beaches, each of which present surfers with different wave characteristics. The place is blessed with huge ocean swells and consistently high winds, and one look at the trademark surf beach Supertubes leaves you with little doubt as to white the Billabong calls here: it is the longest right-breaking wave in the world. And it is friggin massive.

So, you ask, was I out there with the big boys, strutting my stuff and breaking young girls' hearts? Nope. Hey, I know many of you think I'm crazy, but I know my limits. Supertubes would kill me: 5+ meter swells, jagged rocks, and lets not forget the friendly neighbourhood sharks. So when I arrived in J-Bay, I chose to stay on the shore.

But Kelly Slater didn't.

Slater is the 8-time world champion, undisputed king of competitive surfing. The J-Bay event may have ended, but Slated decided to stick around and practice at Supertubes before moving on to the next event. As if he needed it.

The result was that the beach was still crowded with onlookers gazing in awe as Slater tamed the waves, not so much surfing but writing poetry on the water that would have made Wordsworth sob tears of joy. As someone who has taken a keen interest in the sport of late, it was a true privilege to sit on the shore, quaff a few beers and watch this guy go. It's a little like heading down to your local football pitch only to discover that Becks or Zidane has showed up to kick the ball around.

So to Slater, I say that you are the man. And to Supertubes, I say that I will see you again someday soon. In the water.

I just need to practice on a few less life-threatening breaks first, okay?

Photo Goodness Vol. I

Please enjoy this tasty visual appetizer from South Africa. Captions for the following:

1. Yours truly takes a breather, Buffalo Bay.

2. Through the foliage at the Delheim vineyard, Stellenbosch.

3. A Great White Shark lurks around the divers' cage, Gansbaai.

4. Lion's Head peak as seen through waterfall from Table Mountain, Cape Town.

5. George, our "wine tour" driver, Stellenbosch.

A Wine Tour Gone Awry

The town of Stellenbosch is situated in a picturesque valley, surrounded by mountains, and can be reached by an hour's train ride from Cape Town. Though it is home to one of Africa's most prestigious universities, and thus boasts a vibrant demographic of young intellectuals, the real draw of Stellenbosch comes in bottled form. For it is here that the South African wine trade has its epicentre.

The area is peppered with old-world farmhouses, where wine producers take advantage of the ideal microclimate by growing many varieties of grape, ranging from the familar Pinot Noir to the uniquely South African Pinotage. There are in excess of 150 vineyards within a 20 minute drive from Stellenbosch, making it a perfect base from which to travel about and sample the local fare.

Unfortunately for Canadians, wines from S. Africa are almost exclusively exported to Europe and the US. While it may be possible to pick up a few bottles at your local Oshawa Liquor Mart, this represents a meager fraction of the actual selection. So you can imagine my excitement when I arrived in the town with two friends on the eve of a wine tour that would offer us a glimpse into the real world of S. African wines.

Wine tours follow a simple formula: you pay 250ZNR to hop on a bus. You spend the day visiting 4 of the more famous local vineyards, sampling a few glasses of wine along the way, and then return to the hotel with that warm fuzzy feeling one gets from actually learning something while drinking booze.

Fine, sounds good. But I say, PISH POSH! 4 vineyards? I didn't fly 17000km to be satisfied with that! 150 watering holes, and you only visit 4? That's like going to a hockey game and leaving 5 minutes in.

Let me tell you how to really get it done: for 300ZNR, you hire a cab for the day, or in our case an orange-coloured VW Magikbus driven by some guy with dreadlocks who played nothing but blaring trance music. We hopped in the bus at 930AM, and embarked on a full day tour de force, hitting 9 vineyards by the time we were done.

The first stop was Avandale, where our taste buds were tantalized by the sweet and syrupy signature port. Next up was Waterford, whose resilient syrah lingered in our throats, invoking daydreams of cherry blossoms and warm velvety chocolate. We then proceeded to Simonsig, and were refreshed by the sancerre, which danced on our palettes as if to the tune of a Chopin concerto.

Well, I'm sorry to say that I can't tell you anything else. You see, I have a very low tolerance for wine, and so by the 4th vineyard I had ceased to actually taste what I was drinking. By the 6th, I began to forget the names of the vineyards, and by the 8th I had already forgotten by own name. The only reason I even am aware of visiting a 9th is because our driver, bless him, later informed us that we had done so. As evening drew near, we stumbled in to our hostel, the aptly named Stumble Inn. The last of us went to bed at 815PM.

And so, despite having spent an entire day being whisked around to some of the region's most integral vineyards, I can tell you absolutely nothing about the merits of S. African wine. Because, well, I just got too drunk.

Oh, hold up. I can tell you that the wines here come in two colours (red and white), are very easy-drinking, and most certainly contain a potent amount of alcohol.

S.N.A.F.U!!!

"Some people can't even tell the difference between a Bordeaux and a Claret." - Basil Fawlty

The Jaws of Death

At 6AM, you wake up.

At 6:30, the minibus picks you up from your hostel in Cape Town for the 2 hour journey to Gansbaai, a small seaside village on South Africa's southwestern coast.

At 9, you board a twin-engined speedboat and head out across the frigid waters to an island several miles out to sea. The boat anchors in the rolling waves.

At 10, you put on a wetsuit.

At 10:15, you climb into a 10' x 10' x 2' galvanized steel cage. Minutes later you are lowered into the water.

Why do all this, you ask?

Because the water is teeming with Great White Sharks.

Shark cage diving has become a popular activity in South Africa, and June/July are the months to do it. At this time, the sharks congregate in this small area of the Western Cape in order to breed and feed off the local seal population.

Tourists looking to jumpstart their hearts can take advantage of this predictable migration by paying a considerable sum to be lowered into the sea inside a protective cage while the sharks feed nearby. The water is chummed using tuna carcasses attached to a rope that is held by a boat crewman. The principle is simple: put the people in the water, put the food in the water, wait.

You don't have to wait long. Within minutes, a 4m Great White appears in the vicinity and begins to circle ominously around the boat. Then, in an instant, it swings its powerful tail fin and swoops in on its prey, its jaws wide open to reveal a massive array of razor teeth.

As the shark attacks, the boat crewman pulls the rope on the brings the tuna to within inches of the divers' cage. The shark dutifully changes its trajectory and charges the cage, leaving the onlookers with nothing to do but gaze in awe at the fearsome creature as it passes by.

Can I just say something here? HOLY SHIT. This is not a fish, this is a prehistoric monster. Never in my life have I been witness to such an incredible force of nature as this. The cage may be made of steel, but as you stare into the glassy, sinister black eyes of the Great White, you can't help but think that you are truly at its mercy. Out here, the shark is king, and you are only a snack.

Like most activities that involve human/animal interaction, shark cage diving does have its nay-sayers. Thing is, the outcry is not over the safety of the shark, but instead with the possibility that you are teaching the shark to associate humans with food by placing tourists in shark feeding areas. Surfing is already a dangerous pastime in S. Africa, and shark attack incidents are increasing in number. I personally cannot attest to whether shark cage diving is the cause of this, though to be quite honest I felt as if the sharks were focused only on eating the chum and paid little mind to the warm bodies in the cage.

But fear not, surfers! I'm sure it's only a matter of a few generations before humans mettle enough with the delicate ocean ecosystems to sufficiently eradicate these beasts from existence. This despite the fact that sharks have been patrolling these waters for millions of years. Ha ha! Humans win again! Screw you, ocean life!

Africa???

When I was 17, I decided that I would one day follow in the footsteps of my adventurous parents and spend a few years of my reckless youth wandering the Earth.

So... 10 years, an engineering degree, a full-time job, several ex-girlfriends, many fingers of scotch and the kitchen sink later, here I am. Cape Town, South Africa.

I'm surprised I was able to afford it, really. What with the gambling addiction, the many illegitimate children and my penchant for lighting cigars with $100 bills, every penny needed pinching. Fortunately, traveling in Africa doesn't require one to be Warren Buffet.

First impressions? Well, I'd say that CT looks a lot like San Francisco for its ritzy waterfront. And Rio de Janeiro, for its bizarre topography. And Toronto, for its bohemian sidestreets. What it does NOT look like, is Africa.

Not that I expected there to be lions wandering the streets and a bunch of black guys with bone necklaces dancing around a roaring fire in the center of town. And believe me, CT has no lack of interesting things to do. A 2-hour vertical slog up to the summit of Table Mountain affords a brilliant view of the city, as well as the nearby landscape all the way from Robben Island (where Mandela was imprisoned) to the lighthouse at the Cape of Good Hope. In nearby Camp's Bay, you can side in a seaside bar and drink Castle Lagers and watch the sun set over the turbulent sea. The town offers everything from mountain climbing to barhopping, and tourism thrives here as people descend on the place to get a taste of African culture without having to worry about their safety - for Cape Town, I'll hazard, is more secure than Rome.

Of course, there are ample opportunities to endanger yourself if you so wish. I suggest ditching the ordinary taxicab in favour of a ride in a minibus taxi - for a few cents, you jump in the back of a rickety old VW wagon, sit down amongst the dodgy patrons, and hold on tight while you are whisked to your destination at insane speeds by a driver who couldn't be older than 15. Of course, the Lonely Planet all but forbids using minibuses as a means of transportation, but who are THEY to tell YOU what to do? You just have to say NO, GUIDEBOOK! SHUT UP, GUIDEBOOK! Then close your eyes and get on.

Sometimes you find the adventures, and sometimes they find you. Though my first few days in Africa have been decidedly un-African, they've also been a Hell of a good time.

Worth the 10 years? Stay tuned.

En Route

Hey! Do you recall that time you met a really sweet girl at a club in Rio de Janeiro, then didn't see her for 5 months, then flew from Canada to Amsterdam to go visit her, only to find out that she was even more wonderful than you had imagined?

No?

Well I won't forget when this happened to me.

Please meet Isis.

Obrigado muito, querida! Quero dizer que acho que seu Holandês é muito bom!

My brief stopover in Europe has been a pleasant one. I spent the first few days in London, staying with my friend Roger and his family (read: not paying for accomodation) and visiting my favourite hangouts: the RAF Museum at Hendon, the food gallery at Harrod's in Knightsbridge, the Camden Market, and of course the Big Ben.

After that I headed to Amsterdam to visit the above Carioca, which was a significant change from my previous trips to the place, because I discovered that apparently there is something to this beautiful city beyond the limits of the Red Light District. Like Dutch people! Imagine my shock!

Spending time in Amsterdam with someone who lives there allows you to shed the false pretense that the city exists solely as a place where 19-year-old British kids go to get baked. Isis and I traveled around in style on our old-school bicycles, meandering the local backstreets and soaking up the peaceful and yet dazzlingly electric atmosphere in what has to be one of Europe's most marvellous cities. I also had the opportunity to visit my Dutch friend Ashok, whom I also met and partied with in Brazil. He made me eat fries and mayo. To my arteries: Sorry, but I really enjoyed it.

That's it that's all for now. Tomorrow it's off to South Africa, and I can only imagine what adventures are in store for me there.

I hope they serve fries and mayo.