Sunday's in Kleinzee are days that ghosts and forgotten skeletons come out to play. Our journey here was incredible.
4am on a Friday with a chill breeze and a black sky, we embarked on our epic travels to a far away dorp in the heart of our homeland South Africa.
We were meant to leave at 2. But there was goodbye coffee with the half asleep parents and Yoda escaping her voyage by hiding up the street until we gave up and left and she eventually blinked back to cuddle with my mom. She knew we wanted to take her, and it seems she knew what the next 10 hours of her life would be like. Clever cat!
It was actually quick, considering. We had good time, ahead of schedule, totally annihilating the long straights and gobsmacked at the awe and beauty of the sheer vastness of the nothing around us and the sunrise was a glimmer of salvation from the nights blackness swallowing us.
Then the colours splashed and the mountains and dry but still green valleys bounced into view. Winding roads up hills, between huge boulders, and I think we drove through a mountain at some point.
Then it went bright orange! Blue skies dotted with clouds and a burnt orange background with tufts of a blackish green.
And the gravel. Yes! The gravel! 60k's or so with orange dust flying around us, getting into our eyes and mouths and making our coke and cream soda erupt all over but I saved the day by the slow opening process.
