FROM Champagne Castle to the Hluhluwe Game Reserve was the longest leg of our entire journey. Leaving as late as we did, we were really going to have to motor.
By the time we got to Mooi River, it was already obvious that we were not going to get to Hluhluwe before the gate closed for the night.
I located a public telephone, scraped off sufficient grime to enable me to ascertain which end was which and found, to my surprise, that it worked.
In no time at all, I was chatting to a very pleasant woman at the Natal Parks Board, who assured me that Hluhluwe would be notified by radio and that we would be met at the gate. “But please,” she said, “try not to be too late.”
South Africa had – and still has – what was possibly the world’s highest speed limit – 120km/h. Even at that speed on a good road we were going to find it difficult to reach our destination before dark, but I took a deep breath and put my foot down.
Batting down the highway between Pietermaritzburg and Durban, the car produced a sudden, ominous ‘clunk’ and the water temperature needle jumped into the red.
Obviously the fan belt had decided to part company with the rest of the vehicle. Now I may be a duffer with clutches, but I can cope with fan belts, so I was not unduly worried, until I opened the bonnet and found that the fan belt was still there.
Then I panicked. I pushed and pulled all the bits which were not too hot to touch, belaboured the rest of the machine with a spanner and admitted defeat. We drank ginger beers at the roadside, topped up the radiator with water and went on our way. We spent the next 5 000km watching the temperature gauge and listening for clunks, but the gremlin never came back.
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