top of page

Sardine Run Travel Update – STUCK, FLOODING & GIRAFFES

  • Writer: Animal Ocean
    Animal Ocean
  • Jul 31
  • 3 min read

Major flooding has hit the Wild Coast. Johann—the owner of Mdumbi Backpackers—has been sending us photos of submerged bridges along the R61 and the road to Mdumbi. Access is completely cut off for now, so we’ve got no choice but to wait it out. Frustrating, yes—but arriving safely takes priority.

ree

I woke in a mild panic, convinced we were running late. On Sardine Run trips, we’re normally on the road by 4 a.m. But today was different. Snow was forecast, roads were uncertain, and we needed updated info before committing. Then we found out a truck had crashed just outside Cradock, blocking the main exit. So we waited.


With nowhere to go, we slowed things down and found comfort in True Living Old Karoo Bistro. The boerewors was incredible. The owner, Albert, was full of stories—rambling proudly about his prize-winning chicken sosaties and skilpadjies (which Danny Jegels hilariously misheard as “tortoises on a stick”). A brief moment of horror followed until we explained it’s just liver wrapped in fat, not some tragic kebabed reptile.


Eventually, we jiggled the boats out of the driveway and hit the road—or tried to. Endless stop-and-go delays from roadworks kept us crawling, and then the realisation hit: all routes to Mdumbi were flooded. After much Googling, debating and dead-ends, we booked a night at Ndaba Guest House in Queenstown (now officially called Komani). We’d have to wait it out.

Bags down, cameras out. “Where can we go burn some megapixels?” asked Samantha Sivewright


A quick search pointed us to Lawrence de Lange Nature Reserve, just outside Komani. Rumour had it there were rhinos and giraffes—worth a shot.


We unhooked the boat, loaded into the car, and drove into the hills on a cold, grey afternoon with low expectations. R50 per car to enter, and a R50 guidebook on offer (despite the R30 sign at the office). The entrepreneurial staff refused to let me browse it first, so I passed. Classic.


We took the high road—a sketchy mountain pass slick with rain. Sightings were few and far: fallow deer, red hartebeest, but nothing near the road. No megapixels burned. We looped back toward the gate and tried the second route. That’s when it all changed.

Suddenly—giraffes. Dani, barely able to form words, spluttered:

“That very long-necked thing!” (choking slightly from sheer excitement).

One giraffe strolled toward us—curious, cautious, with a physique that looked like someone added a few extra knees. Then more appeared. A whole herd, with tiny calves, mixed with zebra.


Sam spotted a calf and nailed the mood: “Oh God, there’s another baby giraffe. What the f*** is happening right now?”


Shutters went wild. Megapixels flew. Libby Richardson climbed onto the roof for a better view. Every angle captured. The reserve turned out to be unexpectedly rich with life and light—giraffes in golden grass, zebra moving between thier legs, and everything closer than expected.


We ticked off birds too—Cape buntings, bokmakieries, streaky-headed seedeaters, and a grab bag of suburban species. One black wildebeest let us in close. Odd creatures—mohawked noses, white whiskers, blonde tails, sloped backs. Their high-pitched squeals don’t match their frame. Endemic to South Africa, they’re the weird cousins of the blue wildebeest you see in Kruger or the Serengeti. More punk rock than plains game.


So for now, we’re back at the guest house—ticking boxes, sorting photos, and waiting. As soon as there's a safe route to Mdumbi, we’ll take it. Until then, we stay dry, stay patient, and try to enjoy the calm before the Sardine Run chaos begins.


 
 
 

Comments


Copyright © Animal Ocean. All rights reserved. Seal Snorkeling – 41 Victoria Ave, Hout Bay, Cape Town, South Africa.

  • Facebook
  • Instagram
bottom of page