Cops, Pork, and Dead Monkey Roadkill

I have determined that our team sucks at getting to destinations. I have also determined that our team is very good at road trippin’. We left Sunday from our home at Alabanza, which is just outside of Johannesburg, South Africa. Our intentions were to do a true ATL (ask the Lord) road trip. We only knew roughly where we were going to go. Our destination we all had in mind was Gordon’s Bay, which in on the same spit of land as Cape Town, where our new friend Tom Sipling lives.

Our first destination was Durban, east of Johannesburg and not closer to Cape Town, but there we were lead to meet with a woman named Pat who works with YWAM. We slept in the industrial sized looking barn, where I think several horror movies were filmed. The place was pretty creepy at night. While there we taught 4th graders about Jesus, led a Bible Study for a group of go gos (grandma superheroes you might call them), and played with the kids at the YWAM compound. I very much enjoyed my stay in Durban and could have stayed much longer, but the call of the Wild Coast drew us south.

With Cape Town actually further away than when we began our journey, we knew we had some catching up to do. So how pray tell did we do that? By deciding to make a quick stop at Mkambati Nature Reserve, which is in the middle of nowhere. We drove in on the long dirt road in our team minivan that we have named “Sharan,” our white beauty. But Sharan was made for the glitz of the city lights and not for the rough African wild. We attempted to make it to the beach upon our arrival, which was many hours after having left the highway, and promptly got stuck in deep sand. Our best efforts to dig out our baby proved to be not much better than a good chance to play in the dirt. After an hour or so of digging with no success, we quickly prayed for a little of God’s help. Literally within a minute a man drives up in a big jeep, fully equipped with huge offroad tires and a tow rope. Just so everyone knows, this was in the middle of nowhere and we had not seen anybody but the gate attended and the lady in charge of the cabins. He quickly and easily pulled us out of deep sand and deep trouble. We stayed at the reserve that night, I slept under the most beautiful southern sky I have ever seen. I stayed up late just looking up in awe at the Milky Way and the famous Southern Cross (the southern hemisphere’s Big Dipper), with the sweet sound of the ocean crashing onto the rocky coast. Rarely have I slept with so much peace in my heart.

In the morning we went on our very own safari, driving around through fields filled with zebras, wildebeest, baboons, and elands, in search of waterfalls that fall directly into the ocean. We found ourselves on perhaps the most beautiful coast I have ever seen. The Wild Coast is duly named, as huge waves crash onto red boulders, spewing water high into the air. A pod of whales joined in on the fun, giving us a delightful show, repeatedly surfacing and spraying their mists up in joy. Once again awe filled my heart at the majesty of God’s creation.

East London was our next stop. In two days since Durban we had traveled 600 kilometers, leaving 1000 left for the next day. We felt God leading us to stay at a church. It was 6:30pm, we had no connections, and no idea where we would stay. But we stopped at a Baptist Church, and by 7pm we had our very own house all to ourselves. They just turned over the keys to us without asking any questions!

We left East London early in the morning with our sights set on Gordon’s Bay, but little did we know (okay we knew we were going to), that we would be throwing ourselves off the largest bridge in all of South Africa, and THE LARGEST BUNGEE JUMP IN THE WORLD!!! How could we pass up this opportunity? I would never let it down. So Mallorie, Mary, Michelle, and I girded up our collective loins (to each their own of course) to throw ourselves off the bridge. One by one the guys before us fell into nothingness as my stomach crept higher and higher into my throat. Two guys hold you to the edge, ready to give you a gentle but effective push if you show any regret for what you’ve just paid for. 3-2-1…nothing but the wind in my ears and the sound of my brain saying “what the hell are you doing!” could be heard as gravity ran it’s course. It was well worth it, 6 seconds of failed flying lessons, but a lifetime of dreams that are founded upon actual experience.

So 42 hours, and 1700 miles later, we have finally arrived in Gordon’s Bay. We are living in Tom Sipling’s house high up on the mountainside overlooking the bay, with the Cape of Good Hope set across the bay. We are The Church here. Acts 4:32 is taken literally. Names written on food containers don’t exist (or at least are not heeded) for the 17 people in this house. I am looking forward to some time to sit and be, to enjoy the beauty all around me and to hear God’s voice. Because come Tuesday, ol’ Sharan is taking us back to Johannesburg. Yikes!

Check out Michelle’s blog for a sweet slideshow with even more photos!!!