Apocalypse: Cape Town (Part 3)

The diesel engine of the recommissioned tugboat sputtered frantically as the captain struggled to make headway in what had become a boiling, seething mass of whitewater.The boat pitched and yawed wildly and passengers, cargo and crew were buffeted from side to side by the angry sea.

So focused was the captain, that he did no notice the stunning changes Robben Island itself was going through.

Water cascaded off the sides of the island like a veil as it rose higher and higher above the sea, more land birthing itself out of the ocean and increasing with size and speed at every second.

The passengers were half-mad with panic, the crew too focused on their tasks and the violence of the sea to notice what happened next. 

First two, then six, then 8 smaller islands appeared around the main mass. They contracted, moving closer to the main island and then suddenly, with surprising grace, a gigantic Ghost Crab- the fabled and mythical beast of the deep in long-forgotten Bushman stories – rose above the water.

The water suddenly calmed and the captain turned around just in time for the shadow of the crab to block out the sun. 

He turned back to the wheelhouse to escape but he needn’t have bothered. The Ghost Crab wasn’t after him or his ship. No, the Ghost Crab’s plans were much bigger. It turned and started walking towards Cape Town. 

Apocalypse: Cape Town (Part 2)

2014 – August

Jackson and Van Niekerk couldn’t have picked a less opportune time to leave their offices. As the engineers rode the lift to the Chief Engineer’s floor, the instruments measuring the Robben Island tremors became more and more frenetic, and an earthquake alarm began to sound.

The Koeburg Nuclear Power Station’s Disaster Management Team, in their office slightly removed from the main building, took no notice of the one flashing orange bulb in their bank of instruments. Their equipment showed that the tremors posed no danger to the plant or any of it’s equipment. Yet. 

On Robben Island, a tour group was just finishing their excursion and boarding the boat to take them back to Cape Town when the ground began shaking beneath their feet. 

“It’s an EARTHQUAKE!” screamed one of the American tourists.

“They don’t get earthquakes in Africa honey, this is just a tremor” this from her husband

As they spoke the tremors became more and more violent, the boat began smashing into the jetty and straining against it’s moorings- rocked by the choppy water and the increasing instability of the land

“People, keep calm! We need to get on board now!” shouted the Boat’s Captain – a 30 year veteran of the Atlantic- who almost managed to keep the panic out of his voice. 

“Now!”

The tourists surged forward as one, panicking and shoving from behind. The shaking, the waves and the screams of agonized wood became deafening as all twenty people tried to pile into the boat at the same time. 

The ground suddenly lurched upwards, causing a handful of people to pitch head-first into the boat, and the captain decided then and there that it was time to shove off. Amidst the shouts of pain and fright, ominous rumbling and crashing waves, he managed to get his crew to start the engines and turn the prow towards the Mother City. 

Unfortunately, he was too late. 

End Part 2

Apocalypse: Cape Town (Part 1)

A big thank you to @Zombie_Phil for the basic premise of this story

2014 – August

A cold wind blows, bringing somewhat apathetic yet chilled rainfall from the Atlantic into Table Bay. The mother city, Cape Town, sits nestled in between 2 oceans and Table Mountain like an aging lady of leisure languishing on her couch.

Capetonians go about their business as usual, fisherman launch their boats, vendors start setting up in Greenmarket Square, and people begin their daily commute into the city.

Officials at Koeberg Nuclear Power Station have a surprise waiting for them today – engineers responsible for monitoring the seismic activity around the station have noticed steadily increasing disturbances from the ocean floor around Robben Island, with no logical explanation.

“There are NO tectonic plates or hot spots anywhere NEAR Robben Island.” said Stephen Van Niekerk, lead Geological Engineer “This is something we should report.”

“And say what exactly?” Matthew Jackson, Head of Public Relations interjected. “There’s SOMETHING, we’re not sure what, rumbling under Robben Island, which is nowhere NEAR our station and is not even strong enough for our extra-paranoid alarm systems to register? How do you think that is going to look?”

The two men, arguing their respective cases, resolved to report to the Big Man for him to make the call.

While the two engineers hurried off to argue their respective cases to their boss, another section of instruments lit up. The screen displayed similar seismic disturbances to the ones Van Niekerk and Jackson were debating about, only these seemed to originate from underneath Table Mountain…

End Part 1

Masters Waterpolo – A Tale of a Drinking Tour (Part 1)

Picture the scene: Lanseria Airport – Wednesday Evening, 17h30 PM.

A lone figure enters the Wiesenhof coffee shop, clutching a Hansa Lager branded bag and a slightly nervous expression.

He takes a seat at a table and orders a draught beer, for the nerves.

One beer leads to another. He seems to be waiting for something besides a plane- but what?

Suddenly a few hulking figures emerge blinking into the light, the waiter stand up and shouts: “Boys! You made it! Let the Masters Waterpolo Tour begin!”

Needless to say, when you get drunk before you get on the plane, things can only go one way

I ended up losing my original boarding pass and five minutes before we were due to start boarding I made a rushed and somewhat stumbling jog (I don’t run) down the stairs to the check-in. The kindly gentleman there said “Lucky I remembered you from joking about having drugs in your bag”

Little did he know I wasn’t joking.

The flight itself was uneventful, apart from the whirring and clicking in my brain about how I was going to convince my team to abandon them for a romantic tete a tete once we landed. I realised that no amount of convincing in the world would sway them from taking me drinking so I came up with a cunning plan.

When we landed, I ran.

Without so much as a goodbye, I bundled into the car of my lover and we sped off into the night… romance and beer ensued.

The next morning, after a stolen breakfast and much skulking in corridors so as not to be seen, I was driven across the peninsula to Table View, and then even further to Durbanville, and a disused quarry that was to be our playing filed for the next three days.

As I was being dropped off, my lady remarked that this was the equivalent of being dropped off by your mom for the matric dance, and could result in any even heavier fine than the one already promised to me due to my ninja-bomb disappearing act the night before.

Luckily as you can see – I was literally the first person to arrive:

Eventually, after watching a bunch of really old men do a couple of warm-up laps of the quarry, my team arrived – ordered me into leopard-print boxers and proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the morning.

Our first game was against Clifton – a team in which there were 3 current Springbok players and the rest of the team were all ex-Springboks.

In comparison my team had 2 Gauteng Schools Provincial players. We lost.

We played another 2 matches and lost those too – at which time we decided to turn this tour into a drinking tour.

In part 2 I’ll try and piece together what actually happened through interviews and photographic evidence. It may take some time.

Please be patient, your views are important to us.

The Land of Milk and Honey

15 Days.

15 Days until I get on a plane with my expensive-ass last minute ticket and take the 2 hours flight down to the Mother City

I cant wait. And as much as I’m probably looking the worst I’ve looked and totally not rocking my Heidi Klum beach body, I’m going to hit the beach. HARD. Like it has angered me.

And anger is part of why I’m so excited about this holiday- over the last 2-3 weeks I’ve been in a bit of a downward spiral in terms of my general mood and personality. So my plan this holiday is to spend time with some good friends, thinking and … ahem, not thinking, if you get my drift.

That being said, I’m still going to be swimming my ass off as soon as my tattoo has healed. A couple of kays a day should do some good at least.

Whats exciting me about this holiday is not having to deal with any issues- everyone down in Cape Town is someone I’m wanting to spend time with and someone who doesnt have any issues- with me at least.

As much as I’m generally pretty happy and optimistic, this type of shit is getting to me. And for me, ‘me time’ doesnt neccessarily mean only me. And hey, a little comfort in the arms of a lithe beach nymph will probably go a little way towards my rejuvenation too.

So bring it on, I have a healthy bank balance, some fucking great friends and a whole bunch of exciting things to do- Cape Town has never looked so good

Pictured: Beach Nymph