As we move farther away from the mountains,, the highlands gradually give way to green rolling hills stretching out by the thousands down to the coastline. We once again venture down gravel roads and dirt tracks snaking up and down the slopes, cutting deep into pine and eucalyptus forests out of a fairy tale by the Grimm brothers. It wouldn’t surprise us that much if Hansel and Gretel were to peep out from among the trees, or perhaps Red Riding Hood – even though in this part of the world she would have to get to grips with a lion rather than an evil wolf. And it’s not Granny ‘s hut that we happen upon in the thick of the wood, but a quite remarkable waterfall, Qunu Fall, a ribbon of water cascading down a hair-raising chasm. Then it’s black to civilization, so to speak. We will spend the weekend in Howick, a small town laying at slightly above 1,000 m. We are getting close to the sea. It’s a quiet little place with a population of about 20,000, that only comes alive over the weekend, when tourists flock down from the big cities. Yet finding a restaurant is a challenge, even on a Saturday night. Dinner at 7, as the kitchen closes shortly afterwards. And it’s steak as usual, a very tasty one, then it’s bedtime. Adventure sure is an exhausting business.