Raindrops, Tantrums and Happy Tears: My Wimbledon Queue Experience

I like impromptu getaways. I like camping. I like random ideas. I like my boyfriend. I like tennis. I like "the big occasions."

What could go wrong?

It happened like this. Dan got very excited halfway through Andy Murray's Wimbledon semi final match, when it started to look like he might win. "If he makes the final, we should camp in The Queue the night before, and watch the match from Henman Hill!" he declared. It seemed like a fun idea - it combined all the aforementioned "thing that I like" and I've never been one to miss the chance to be able to say "I was there..." about a big event. The first British Wimbledon finalist in over 70 years was one such event, and if he actually won it then well... that would be really exciting.


We packed up the camping equipment on Friday night, bought crucial supplies (crisps, cookies, beer) and as soon as I finished work on Saturday we jumped on the train to Wimbledon. It was a train of contrasts - us, in our hoodies and carrying a tent, sat next to girls dressed up to the nines on their way out for a big one, carrying clutch bags and tottering on huge heels.

We arrived at Wimbledon train station and jumped on the bus to the grounds (it was empty, everyone was very sensibly going the opposite way to us, as play had finished for the day) and headed to Car Park 10 - home of The Queue (so famous it has capital letters) and also home to us for the night. We were shown to our spot by a very efficient (translation: self important) queue marshal, and pitched the tent. It looked smaller than I remembered, and the air bed only just fit, but we brushed our worries aside and tucked into the pizza we'd had delivered to the gate (very grumpy delivery many, I think he actually hated me), drank the beers we'd bought and chatted to our neighbours. It did absolutely chuck it down with rain for about 20 minutes, but all in all I felt ok... I'm British, I can camp in the rain!

I haven't mentioned the most exciting part yet... I got interviewed by the BBC! Oh yes, I am now an actual television star and have appeared on BBC news at least twice (according to my friends Kath and Gary - I haven't actually seen the clip myself as it is proving elusive online) as well as in the background of numerous interviews with the annoying group of Irish lads a few places ahead of us in The Queue who were like journo catnip and got all the airtime (I'm not bitter, honest).

The next morning, after a damp, squashed night in what is surely the worlds smallest tent (2 man my a***) we admitted defeat and got up at 5.20am (yes, that's twenty past fie in the morning, disbelievers), purchased an extortionately priced bacon sarnie each and packed up the camping gear (translation: threw the stupid, minuscule, leaky tent in the bin in a fit of tantrum). By now, the day queuers had started to arrive, as had the television cameras, but despite my quite frankly fantastic Union Jack tights, I wasn't asked for another interview and had to settle for people watching as our fellow campers reveled themselves in all of their patriotic glory. Union Jack dresses, hats, brollies and flags were everywhere, as well as one lone Roger Federer fan, who'd camped for two nights to be right at the front and was decked head to toe in RF merchadise and carrying a personalised umbrella, covered in pictures of herself with Federer, and his wife. We named her "Roger Brolly" and used her as a handy focal point for how fast the queue was moving.

Basically, it was not moving fast. It didn't move at all between 8am and 10am in fact, and as the heavens opened and my feet throbbed, I had my first "what am I doing?!" moment. By this point however, we'd made good friends with our queue mates - Harry and Caz in front, and Chi and Cat behind - and the banter kept us all going as they opened the gates and we slowly but surely inched towards the front.

A tale of 2 queuers... Dan on a high, me in a strop.

By 10.45 we were in, and joined the crowd of people doing that weird jumpy "I'm not running, honest" fast walk to Henman Hill (I refuse to call it Murray Mound - it sounds rude, and anyway - it's Henman Hill!!) to find a good spot to set down our blankets and wait for the match to start.

It was a great party-like atmosphere - jovial, friendly and high spirited, and when the sun came out and started to dry our soaking clothes, it felt worth the hours spent soggy and tired, and the sore feet, cramped legs and terrible "tent hair" endured. When Murray won the first set, I dared to believe he could go all the way...

As the third set - and Federer's comeback - was underway, the heavens opened and brought me back down from my high. "Soaked through" doesn't do justice to the state of me, but nonetheless we stuck it out to the end and choked back tears as Murray gave his emotional post match interview (what stiff upper lip?!) and cheered with everyone else - a great match, 2 true sportsmen and a fantastic experience, despite it all.

So - I Was There. The Wimbledon Queue is a real unique experience that sums up British spirit and eccentrically perfectly. Despite the rain, I'm glad I went - the carnival environment and big occasion atmosphere made it all well worth it... and did I mention I got interviewed on BBC News?!*

I Was There!

*I haven't actually seen the clip :( If anyone has it to share, I would love you forever! It's basically me - glasses and a purple hat - talking about how we must be mad, and predicting Murray will lose. Ooops.

South Africa: Oudtshoorn... Cavernous Cango and Ostrich Extravaganza

Next stop on the Garden Route whistle-stop tour took my friends and I to Oudtshoorn, famous for two things – the Cango Caves, and ostriches. As it turned out, my friend Hannah is rather obsessed with ostriches, and – despite doing very little general South Africa research – had put the hours in and knew a huge amount about the various farms in the area, and what each one offered. She’d spent most of the trip up to that point excitedly telling us all about the fun that was waiting for us in Oudtshoorn so it was with great anticipation that we pulled into the car park of Highgate Ostrich Farm - the farm Hannah had painstakingly researched and decided was the best bet for all our ostrich based needs.

Unfortunately, we discovered that Highgate was closed to visitors as they’d recently suffered a terrible bout of bird flu, and most of their birds had died. Hannah was gutted (all that research for a closed farm!) and although we all laughed at the irony of it, the situation was actually really very sad – not only had all of the ostriches died, but the workers at the farm who relied upon it for jobs and income were now really struggling. We all put our hands in our pockets and bought souvenirs in the gift shop, in the hope it would help in some small way as the farm tries to get back on its feet.


Back into “Craig” (our rental car, and now part of the family) and we headed to farm number two – Cango Ostrich Farm, which had luckily escaped the bird flu outbreak, and welcomed us onto their tour. Our guide was an enthusiastic lady called Geraldine, who knew everything there is to know about ostriches, and told us gleefully that they could rip a human chest open with their toenail (note to self: don’t anger an ostrich) and that the ostriches are at their most tasty when they’re male and 1 year old, which is when they’re sent to slaughter. That explained the truck full of youngsters we’d seen being transported along the N1 highway earlier in the week, at least...

Safe trip, boys...

Following Geraldine’s talk, she showed us into the farm to introduce us to a midget ostrich (kept separate from the others, who would identify it as inferior and go for it with those legendary toenails) and her “good friend Betsy” who was happy to be petted, and gave some of the girls ostrich style “hugs.”

Hannah and Betsy enjoy a cuddle

We were also taken to the riding pen, where several guests were brave enough to ride some of the larger ostriches (not cruel at all we were told, and they do have a weight limit to protect the ostriches) and although my “try everything once” mindset saw me climb aboard one of them, I stopped short of actually going for a ride as it felt very unstable (I have NO balance) and I’d been made to remove my glasses and couldn’t see! No thanks. Jenny and Nichola did have a ride though, much to the amusement of the rest of us, as they squealed their way around the pen before being unceremoniously unseated by their birds. Before we left we were asked to help feed the ostriches - mostly by hand, but I was also treated to the chance of a “neck massage” by one beast (Geraldine’s eyes glinted when she said that) who pecked for all it was worth at a bucket Geraldine handed me before getting me to back up against the bird’s fence.

I’ll be honest, I’m not 100% sure how I feel about the ostrich farm tourist empire. It’s obviously a big income generator for the area, which can only be a good thing. However, I felt a little uneasy about the riding aspect of the trip, and the birds were obviously well used to the neck massage and hug tricks that were wheeled out, which made me question how fair it is of us humans to train up wild animals for our own entertainment. However, you could tell that Geraldine and her colleagues truly loved the birds at the farm, and I didn’t see any mistreatment. All in all, I’m glad I went, but it’s not an experience I’ll be repeating. I’m all ostriched out!


Our next stop was the Cango Caves, one of the natural wonders of South Africa. Jenny and I decided to sign up for the tour as we wanted to be sure to experience as much as we could while there, but the others – who had all been dragged round numerous cave based attractions by their parents growing up – decided to give it a miss and headed to the restaurant for an ostrich burger. We chose the standard tour rather than the adventure one, which involved squeezing through tiny holes, shimmying along narrow passages and navigating down slippery slopes designed for people with much better balance than I. The standard tour was still fantastic though, and the caves are a spectacular sight. My amateur photos don’t really do it justice...

We’d booked to stay that night at Amber Lagoon, a remote hostel somewhere between Oudtshoorn and Calitzdorp. We'd gone for the safari tent option, as that as an accommodation type we'd yet to try, and were excited to check out the facilities. Pulling up at Amber Lagoon we were greeted by Susan, the owner. She immediately insisted we grab a beer and head to the hill, to watch the sunset. It was a good move - the scenery from the hill was amazing, and watching the beautiful sunset with a cold beer was the best way to start the evening at Amber Lagoon.


Although remote (and initially a little “The Hills Have Eyes” unnerving!) Amber Lagoon was fantastic – there’s a bar, a swimming pool, perfectly fine bathroom facilities, and Susan and her staff cooked us the most amazing dinner of ostrich meat with veggies, pasta and lentils which we enjoyed in the outdoor seating area before retiring to our tents for the night. As the only person not to have shared a bed thus far in the trip, I got put in the middle of the 3 in a bed set up in one of the tents and spent a not so comfy night between Hannah and Jen. Love them as I do, sleeping on the mattress crack in such close proximity to their sleeping faces isn’t an experience I wish to repeat anytime soon!

Cosy.

In summary, Oudsthoorn was great. I think just the 1 night was enough, and it was definitely not too much of a squeeze to do the ostrich farm and Cango Caves in 1 day. We didn’t really explore the town itself, but I didn’t feel we missed out – the evening at Amber Lagoon was much more enjoyable than a night in a town centre hostel would have been, I think. I loved my time there, and waved it a fond farewell as we headed onwards to Mossel Bay (we would make it there eventually, no thanks to my dodgy navigating...)

South Africa: Knysna... Nice-na!

My South Africa adventures continued with a 2 night stop in Knysna, which is a harbour town on the Garden Route. Our accommodation continued the ongoing theme of being totally different to any of the other placed we’d stayed during the trip so far, and we checked into the Knysna Lakeside Guest House, and our apartment – known as “The Guinea Fowl Room.” Guinea Fowl was a quaint wooden apartment on stilts, that consisted of two bedrooms, a bathroom and a mini kitchenette area. The owner, a batty but brilliant lady called Lynette, couldn’t do enough to help us settle in and we were soon feeling at home in Guinea Fowl, and doing the typical English thing of brewing up a nice cup of tea in the kitchenette!

While Nichola and Hannah slept off the excesses of the day’s bungee based excitement, Honor, Jenny and I decided to explore a little, and headed off to check out the Waterfront area. Knysna Quays is a lively place with plenty of boutique shops and restaurants looking out to the busy harbour. There’s a statue dedicated to Bondi – a bulldog belonging to a British naval ship, who got off his ship while docked in Knysna and promptly died of heatstroke! I love a random story like this, and was happy to donate a few rand to the collection box beneath Bondi’s statue, which raises funds for animal welfare charities. After a lunch of delicious sushi and a glass of beer on the waterfront, we headed back to Guinea Fowl to get ready for the evening. A friend of Hannah’s had lived in Knysna and we’d heard good things about the nightlife...

Bondi. Obviously a dude.

All dressed up with somewhere to go, we headed back to the Waterfront, and treated ourselves to a lovely dinner at  the Drydock restaurant I tried springbok, and enjoyed eating it almost as much as I’d enjoyed watching them leap around in the Kwantu reserve a few days previously. One word: yum.

After our feast we stopped off at a bar for a new flavour Brutal Fruits (the hunt was on to try all flavours of the new-found alcopop before we left SA!) and then to a “club” recommended by the waiter at Drydock – a place called The Lounge, which I can only describe as a... unique experience. I never thought I’d be able to say I danced to trance mixes of Adele and Goyte songs while my friends got increasingly hyper due to the large amounts of luminous green drinks they’d consumed, but I can now – thank you, The Lounge.

The next morning - on a come down from the Brutals and the green beverages, and treated to our first proper day of sunshine since we’d arrived in South Africa - we decided to hit the beach. Nearby Brenton-on-Sea came recommended by Honor’s guidebook, so we piled into the car and headed off. It was a winding route along cliff paths and we couldn’t resist stopping off en route to admire the amazing views and pose for some fantastically cheesy jumping photos (the best kind of photo IMHO).

Brenton-on-Sea was a lovely beach – very pretty and clean, and not at all busy despite the beautifully warm weather which we’d expected to draw in the crowds. We settled down in the ideal spot for our group – close enough to some rocks that Honor and I (the pale faced, factor 50 lovers) could hide in the shade, but with perfect ray catching opportunities for sun loving Jenny, Nichola and Hannah (who was “going for the burn” despite our pale faced offers of factor 50 and warnings of skin cancer, sun burn and the like...) – and enjoyed a relaxing afternoon of paddling, ice-cream eating and general relaxing. Lovely.

That evening Honor, Jenny and I had booked tickets for a sunset boat cruise to the Knysna Heads – sandstone rocks protruding into the sea protecting the lagoon that makes up Knysna Waterfront. It was a lovely, relaxing way to spend the early evening and we really enjoyed watching a beautiful sunset with a glass of champagne. Personally, I regretted ordering the oysters we’d decided to try – local Knysna speciality they may be, but if you ask me, they’re disgusting. Oysters – tick. Never again though...

Me at The Heads. I'm smiling because I haven't tried the oysters yet..

Back ashore, we met up with the landlubbers for another lovely meal on The Waterfront before settling down for our last night in Guinea Fowl. It was an early start the next day, and onwards to Oudtshoorn...

South Africa: Storms River, Tsitsikamma and Bloukrans: Hippy Paradise and Adventure Hell!

As part of my whistle-stop tour of South Africa, I spent 2 nights in Storms River. It’s a tiny town, but popular with backpackers as it’s a hub of adventure activities and close to the beautiful Tsitsikamma National Park. Now, I’m no adventure junkie... I’m unfit, and I wear thick glasses which I don’t like to risk losing in a river, or off a cliff. My idea of fun is exploring new places at my own pace and NOT wearing a harness of any sort. However, the other girls (there were 5 of us in total) were keen on some adrenalin activities and I liked the idea or seeing the national park and going for some leisurely strolls in the beautiful scenery.


We arrived at Dijembe Backpackers around lunchtime and were immediately excited by what we found. The hostel has a rustic, homely set up with hammocks, a campfire, an outdoor kitchen area and horses grazing in the garden. There’s also a hot tub on the roof, although as it rained pretty much the entire time we were there we couldn’t take advantage! We dumped our bags and grabbed a drink from the bar... it was at this point, enjoying a cold drink and swinging on a hammock with friends that the little voice in my ear which says “you’re travelling – you should try everything...” persuaded me it was a good idea to sign up for zip wiring that afternoon.


Before I could think better of it we were back in the car and on the way to the Tsitsikamma Falls Adventure centre, and I was signing a disclaimer form which told me I might die or get seriously maimed. “Don’t worry, they always say that... just don’t read it,” my friend Jenny “reassuringly” told me as I nervously stepped into my harness and asked the guide to ensure it was on nice and tightly. The zip wire track we would be tackling took us through trees and mountains, over the river and waterfalls. It was a really beautiful setting, although when I was whizzing from side to side clinging on for dear life I didn’t get much chance to admire it! I did actually really enjoy the experience though, and was glad I’d stepped out of my comfort zone to give it a try. Zip Wiring? Check!

Wheeeee!

Next up we decided to drive over to the National Park, and check out the Storms River suspension bridge, which we’d heard was also a must see and offered very beautiful views. By this point the rain had stopped so it was the ideal opportunity to admire the park before the inevitable rain set in once again. We decided on the 1km trek to the bridge, and set off – strolling past the South African mammals klip dassie, which looked to me like giant guinea pigs and scurried off every time we got close or tried to take a picture of them. The park is indeed very beautiful, and when we made it to the bridge we were able to see far out into the ocean from the lookout point, and pose for numerous photos (I like a good photo!) before taking a leisurely stroll back to the car and back to the hostel. For the more adventurous (and fitter!) out there, there are longer trekking paths around the park - you’re provided with a map at the entrance and the paths are very easy to follow. There are also braii (barbeque) areas and picnic benches and it’s a lovely spot to spend a day if you have more time than we did.

At the bridge

Dinner at Dijembe was a home cooked stew and homemade bread. We’d pre-ordered our share earlier and paid a very reasonable price for huge helpings (including seconds) of the delicious meal which we ate round the campfire, laughing and drinking with the other travellers staying at the hostel. It’s a great hostel, with a really chilled out, hippy style vibe and I really reccomend it if you’re heading to Storms River. Breakfast is included, as well as tea and coffee making facilities, and there’s internet and a pool table as well as the staff being happy to help you organise activities – horse riding and tubing are popular, as well as the zip wiring I tried!

Honor, Jenny and Nichola at Dijembe

We left Dijembe after 2 nights, and we were back in our rental car and off to the (in)famous Bloukrans Bridge, which has the world’s highest bungee. Only Nichola wanted to jump, but I decided to sign up as her “bungee buddy” and go on the bridge with her for moral support... conquering my fear of heights at the same time. That was also a spur of the moment decision, and I was seriously regretting it when I saw the metal mesh floor of the walkway to the main bridge – with a clear view hundreds of feet down. I clung to the rail as I gingerly stepped onto the walkway, and one step at a time, eyes dead ahead, singing “This Little Light Of Mine” (my happy song!) and with encouraging words from Nichola, I made it to the jump point (thankfully, a solid concrete floor) without crying, throwing up, or sinking to the floor and refusing to move. If you’re an adrenalin junkie reading this, you won’t appreciate what a big deal that was for me, but it was a huge “fear conquering” moment and I was very proud of myself!

Nichola photographed the see-through floor - argh!!

My milestone passed, it was time to concentrate on my friend, and as the lightest jumper Nichola had to go first. She was harnessed up, and as she approached the edge of the bridge, 4 of her fellow jumpers spontaneously burst into song – Hakuna Matata from The Lion King was a great choice and before I could blink, Nic had dived off the bridge to whoops and cheers from everyone. Knowing what a huge achievement it was for her (and after the stress of my own challenge!) I couldn’t help but burst into tears! I got big hugs from the singing jumpers (I love how experiences like that instantly bring people together) and had composed myself enough by the time Nic had been winched back up to give her a high five and congratulatory hug, before we could relax and encourage the rest of the jumpers.

There she goes!!

Jumps over, we navigated back across the walkway (not as terrifying the second time, but still not fun for me!) and headed to the bar to meet the rest of our group and get ourselves a celebratory Brutal Fruits, our newfound drink of choice in South Africa. Then it was onto the next stage of our South African adventures, and we headed onwards to Knysna...