Here we are — the end of our surf safari journey! Well, the beginning of the end at least. It’s not over yet. This is part five! If you’ve missed any of the other parts, definitely go check them out. If you’ve been anxiously waiting for this last piece of the puzzle, then get ready for the whirlwind that is Cape Town and the mission home!
Related:
Top 5 Surf Destinations We’ve Found While Sailing (So Far)
Cape Town
Okay, so I left you when we were rocking up to Muizenberg. Let me explain Muizenberg: it’s a beach where loads of people come to learn to surf. On its day it can be really fun, but most of the time it’s a beginner’s mush. Along the beach is a car park, and then you hit the first row of buildings — filled with restaurants, surf shops, and hostels. This is where we stayed.
Our Accommodation
Full warning: I wouldn’t recommend what we did if you’re not up for an adventure. Thankfully, we were all in! We’d just driven for several hours and were now shown our room: a set of bunks, a queen bed, and two extra mattresses. Oh, and a tiny shower in the corner of the room. Genuinely, that’s it. No toilet, that was down the hall. Thankfully, there were a couple of windows looking out over the beach, but yeah — it’s fair to say our first impressions were to laugh.
We unloaded boards and set them up in the downstairs board room, then went to the supermarket and bought something for lunch since we were starving.
The rest of day one in Cape Town consisted of driving about forty minutes over to Kommetjie, where we knew the surf comp we’d signed up for would be. We arrived to find it a decent size but packed with people wearing hoods and booties. Most of the crew were asleep in the car, and those of us who watched for a bit were just thinking, “No way.” So, not even surfing on our first day there, we drove back to our room — or, as I’ll kindly call it, our “accommodation.”
Finding More Boards
The next day we woke up determined to stay positive… even if I’d sunk through my mattress in the night and ended up sleeping on the bones of the bunk.
After some oats in the shared kitchen, we headed next door to a surf shop that had so many boards we were sure it must have something for the others. It had some — kind of — but the right sizes for the younger ones were all second-hand and very well used. Hence, we walked out with nothing.
Loading the boards on the roof, we headed off hoping to find some waves and more board shops.
We ended up surfing a spot on the other side of the peninsula called Witsands. Long story short — we absolutely froze and caught about five waves total. Archie and I couldn’t even get our fingers to go together when we paddled. It was just funny in the end.
After checking more surf stores in Kommetjie, still no luck. A few hopeful prospects, but nothing yet.
It actually took until the day before the comp to find Archie a board — one of those very used ones — because his had completely delaminated. Pip found her dream board, and on the last day we found Finn’s too!
The West Coast
The lovely owner of our accommodation offered to take us surfing on the “West Coast,” which, as we learned, wasn’t that far away. Loading the boards again, we followed him for about an hour through Cape Town traffic until it opened up onto the coast north of the city.
After checking a few spots, we found one with a single surfer out and some fun-looking peaks. Paddling out, we made it past the death-defying shore break and sat out there in freezing water with a seal playing nearby, Table Mountain looming over the city, and Robben Island a few miles offshore. What an incredible experience.
Apparently, I was the smoothest coming in through that shore break. Archie tried to surf it in, then panicked, paddled his heart out, got pounded, and washed in. Everyone on the beach lost it laughing.
The Comp
Now for the exciting bit — the whole reason we were in Cape Town: the surf competition.
I’d actually signed Archie and I up for it when we were sailing from Seychelles to Tanzania. I had no idea what the break was like, only that it was in Cape Town and the dates worked. I couldn’t wait to try competing for the first time.
It lasted three days. Archie was first up, in the U14 Boys.
We paddled down the beach to warm up before his heat, then came in as he pulled on a jersey for the first time. When the buzzer went, he paddled out with the others.
He was absolutely stoked when he came in. He’d done exactly what he said he would — catch as many waves as possible and get barreled. He ended up last place since all his waves scored under two points, but that final barrel was gold.
The next day it was my turn. I watched a few heats, paddled out for a couple of warm-up waves, and then pulled on my jersey. Excited and nervous!
The girls were super nice, and I paddled out with them when the previous heat had five minutes to go.
Fair warning: twenty minutes goes fast. I caught a few waves, got low scores, and was stuck inside for the two biggest sets. Before I knew it, the heat was over. I came out smiling though — I’d done it! My first heat ever.
I chatted with a girl from near Durban who’d been in my heat. She was super nice, and honestly, that conversation was just as great as surfing.
Results? Last place again — but not too far behind.
The next day, I was up again in the U18 Girls. Hilariously, I had the same nice girl in my heat. We talked as we paddled out. The water was so cold, even the locals were freezing.
This heat I felt more prepared. Unfortunately, there were two interferences — one not involving me, the other completely my fault. I thought I had priority but didn’t. Ouch. Lesson learned.
I caught one okay wave, but that interference cost me big. Still, I came in smiling — even if I’d just dropped in on my new friend (sorry again!).
Overall? I learned so much. Losing sucks, but I don’t plan to do it again!
The Journey Home
Waking up in our tiny room for the last time, we packed everything — new boards, wetsuits, and warm clothes — and loaded up the car.
Waving a final “Goodbye till we sail through!” to Cape Town, we hit the long straight highway north into the middle of the country. Only eight hours to go.
With Johannesburg as our final goal, we stopped for the night in a weird little town and got hit by a storm. The next morning, up early again, we found breakfast on the road.
By afternoon we were nearing Joburg. With plenty of time before our flight, we got the car washed, sorted bags, and headed for the airport.
Mum and Dad dropped us off, we checked the bags and boards, made it through customs, and then — the best part — found our way into a priority lounge. If you’ve never been in one, just know they’re amazing for long airport waits. We all showered, ate from the buffet, and finally headed for the gate.
On the plane, everyone either watched a movie, read, or slept — mostly slept. I was sick and flying with blocked sinuses (never again).
We landed at three in the morning and slogged through customs in Tanzania, exhausted. Thankfully our taxi driver was waiting and got us back to the yacht club, where we caught the boat transfer.
After leaving Happy Days on anchor for three weeks, seeing her again felt incredible. We’d made it. We were home!
Summary
Yikes, what a journey huh? And how much fun it was! I hope I’ve brought you along with me well enough — it was as awesome to write as it was to live. Thanks heaps for coming along on the adventure, and I can’t wait to share the next one! Thoughts, tips, or your own stories? Leave them in the comments!