LandyTow

They say 90% of all Land Rovers manufactured are still on the road. The other 10% have reached their destination.

All Land Rovers are like women – they moan on long journeys, embarrass you in front of friends and cost you more money than you ever expected, once you’ve committed yourself to one.

Police officers shake your hand when they issue you a speeding ticket.

Landy Itiey Style

Why do most Defenders have jerry cans and gas bottles fitted?
So that the driver can make coffee while waiting for road assistance.

Landy’s have the best fuel consumption of all 4×4′s.
That’s because they are always being towed by something else.

Why do Land Rovers always drive in convoy?
They are playing ‘Who’s the Weakest Link?’

Landy Snow Job

I always wondered why they called their models, a Series 90, Defender 110 etc.
But this weekend I found out, those numbers in the model name are the top speeds.

Rumour has it that the next series Land Rover has no speedometer.
Apparently all you need to do is phone the guy in front and ask at what speed he is towing you.

Landy Speed Ace

When you drive on a toll road, you get these yellow emergency phones next to the road. Stop and look closer. On the phones there are emergency numbers: police, ambulance, doctor and Land Rover Service.

Landy Rally Job

Q: What do you find on pages 4 and 5 of the Landy’s user’s manual?
A: The train & bus schedule.

Q: What is the sport-version of a Landy?
A: When the driver wears Nike shoes.

Q: What do you call a Landy with brakes?
A: Customised.

Q: What do you have to do if your Landy gets in the way of a swarm of killer bees?
A: Stop pushing and take refuge inside the car.

Landy Retired Pink Panther

Why do the latest models have rear window demisters?
A. To keep the hands warm when pushing.

Land Rover has a special this month!!
If you buy one, you get a dog for free!! Then you do not have to walk home alone.

From the pen of Sharon Mandy.

Joe Toff

Ever since I can remember, Old Stone Joe has been a feature on what was a narrow little dirt road, which is presently known as the N4 Highway between Machadodorp and Nelspruit. His domain is at the Patatas Nek pass on the right-hand side of the road looking down the magnificently beautiful Schoeman’s Kloof.

The pass’ name is a recollection of the wagoneers who stopped for an outspan at the top of the pass to rest, feed and water the oxen after climbing out of the Lowveld. They used to cook “patatas” for their meal while the animals were resting.

Stone Joe Daddy O !

Old Stone Joe is an enormous 2.5 meter high rock that was unearthed and loosened by road builders when they constructed the original main road in the latter part of the 1920’s. He was named Joe after the man Joe Barbas who helped unearth him and has the appearance of a sculptured man who must have been recognized and saved as such. He has an enormous paunch as he gazes down at one. He was used as a fence post at one stage.

I have been a traveler on the “N4” since 1944.

From 1944 to1947 my father used to convey us to the “farm” in the “Lowveld” every second weekend. He owned a little old 2nd hand 1938 two stroke, three cylinder wooden bodied Auto Union DKW, with a 650cc. motor. It possessed enormously huge owl-eye like headlights and a tall narrow grill. It used to carry the cook/bottle washer, my father, mother, me, my little baby sister and the dog, as well as all our luggage, and lots of “things” tied to the car roof…for the “farm”.

The little vehicle invariably suffered a lacerated tyre somewhere between Machadodorp and Nelspruit, which was blamed on the accursed “Bloody Machadodorp Shale”.

Slinky Joe

Both the dog and I used to suffer from serious motion sickness, with inevitable after effects. I won’t even discuss the type of journey we used to endure through rain, mud, heat and then of course the powder fine dust that crept in everywhere amidst on going curses; especially when another vehicle passed us going in the opposite direction. If it rained the windshield wiper was a little toy like gadget that smeared instead of wiping !

However, once we reached Old Joe, who sagely observed all passers-by while his stoic presence offered comfort like a lighthouse to stricken ships, (vehicles), we reckoned that we were in the “Lowveld” proper, and that our destination was reasonably close. We could then begin to contemplate the end of the journey. I used to ask my father when we would reach the “farm”, only to be told that it was not far, but “just around the corner”. They were the longest corners that I ever endured.

The story goes that one had to open and close “concertina” wire farm gates all the way from Nelspruit to Middelberg before the public road was proclamated.

Colgate Joe

The road was eventually upgraded to a comfortable new tarmac highway during the 1950’s by the P.C.Zaanen Company, who constructed the road all the way from Middelburg to Nelspruit. The new highway still went over Patatas Nek and followed more or less the original route. Old Stone Joe was retained as a mile-stone as he kept a dutiful eye over all travelers.

Joe Vuvuzela

After some years of just being a silhouetted fence post, Joe eventually took on a personality through the ingenuity of the late Major Claude Graham from White River, who kindly and enthusiastically used to guide groups of bored teenagers on expeditions and picnics during school holidays to decorate him. He has taken on many colourful personalities over the decades being decorated as a chef, toff, pirate, or waiter, etc. Now that the highway has been upgraded into a “super” highway, the services of Joe have been retained and he still does his duty as a sentinel landmark along the N4.

These days he has been placed on his own pedestal/cairn where tourists can stop for a picnic, or to have pictures taken. He has been adopted by various organizations who regularly commission Ghost the Cartoonist from Nelspruit to decorate him.Tourists can safely stop next to him.

To get to Sabie from the N4, turn left on to the R539 at Barclayvale. Follow the route past Sudwala to the R37. Turn left towards Lydenburg/Mashishing/Sabie and follow the sign-boards. Sabie is approximately 50km. from the N4.

By the way mind you…observe Joe carefully. He may just wink at friendly kids .

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Call our Dream Merchants at TRIPS ZA for exciting History, Wildlife, Scenic, or General Interest tours in the Panorama, Kruger, Lowveld regions or beyond. Call us on
013 764 1177.

Email us at johnt@tripsza.com

There are occasionally the more mundane problems…water pipes being broken, power failures, or TV’s, lights and geysers getting blown out by power surges when we are boiling over with a Lodge full of Guests ! Of course these would happen at the oddest of hours of the night, or over a long weekend when no Service Men are available to be called out.

We’ve even had a severe rain storm during the night – with water virtually washing half of a Lodge’s garden into a brand new swimming pool and almost destroying the one retaining wall of the pool.

There was also the comic-tragic instance, of a “lady” Guest triggering the outside perimeter alarm after 23.00hrs because she was despatched by a highly irate boyfriend to go and buy condoms from the all night Convenience Shop ! Essentials my dear, essentials !

Boomslang

However, I recently had a rather unusual experience with a very irate Guest, at a Lodge that is situated out on a farm.

While supervising the breakfast session one morning, the Gardener came to the door to ask me for a bunch of spare keys kept “somewhere” in the office. So off we went and started scratching around the big, but crammed office for the keys. After pulling open the top right-hand drawer of the desk I froze. There in the drawer lay a curled up, vivid green snake !

The helper who was assisting with the search shrieked out in panic, saying that the Owner must have left it there as a deterent to thieves ! With its bright green colour, one could have thought it to be a plastic toy snake. I had however opened that drawer just the day before for a staple remover, and knew it must be the real McCoy and most definitely not a “left-behind” toy. With my natural sense of insight into any devious behaviour, I immediately realised that it was indeed actually an unannounced Guest trying to sneak into a bit of free accommodation !

To cut a long story short and to not over-stretch the snake tail/tale, the Gardener was all ready to go and fetch a big stick to beat the Intruder to death, but I managed to ever so very gently remove the drawer out of the desk, then covered it completely with a flat cardboard box and carried it out into the nearby veld. It took quite a bit of firm coaxing with a long stick to try to dislodge a now very agitated snake out of its cosy sleeping quarters.

Boomslang

Then suddenly it sailed off and disappeared, into the nearby tall veld grass. The wily creature actually got away without paying for its overnight stay ! Whether they be Light Greens or Dark Greens, you do find Chancers like these in all the different strata of our South African Society today.

All of this just goes to prove the ancient Roman saying : there’s always something new Out of Africa !

Richard Allingham.

The Boom Slang or Tree Snake (Dispholidus typus )

The Boom Slang is a relatively small venomous snake which is also colour blind. The Boom Slang is known to be the only species in its genus. The name Boom Slang means “tree snake” directly translated from Afrikaans

Boomslang in a Tree

The Boom Slang is an oviparous species. The eggs have a relatively long (3 months on average) incubation period. Hatchlings are greyish with blue speckles. They attain their adult coloration after several years. Their diet includes chameleons and other arboreal lizards, frogs, and occasionally small mammals, birds and eggs from nesting birds, all of which they swallow whole. During cool weather they will hibernate for moderate periods, often curling up inside the enclosed nests of birds such as weavers.

Fangs of the Boomslang

Many members of the family Colubridae that are considered venomous are essentially harmless to humans, because they either have small venom glands, relatively weak venom, or an inefficient system for delivery of venom. However, the Boom Slang is a notable exception in that it has highly potent venom, which it delivers through large fangs that are located in the rear of the jaw. The venom of the boom slang is primarily a haemotoxin. It disables the blood clotting process and the victim may well die as a result of internal and external bleeding. Other signs and symptoms include: headache, nausea, sleepiness and mental disorders.

Boomslang Hunting

Because the venom is slow to act, symptoms may not be manifest until many hours after the bite. On the one hand, this provides time for procuring the serum, while on the other hand it may lead victims to underestimate the seriousness of the bite. Snakes of any species may sometimes fail to inject venom when they bite aptly named a “dry bite”, so after a few hours without any noticeable effects, victims of Boom slang bites may believe (wrongly) that their injury is not serious.

Adult boom slang has 1.6–8mg of venom. Various sources give figures ranging from 0.06-0.72mg/kg being sufficient to kill mice in 50% of cases, if the venom reaches a vein.

Boomslang Eye Missing Nothing

Despite all of this, the Boom Slang and other snakes are gentle creatures and will only attack when they are put in a situation they don’t want to be in. Most of the time the snake will see you before you see it and it will move away. Any snakes prerogative is to always avoid contact with humans as they are not by their nature, a conflict species. So next time you find a snake please don’t kill it, rather find some one that knows how to handle snakes safely and get the person to remove the snake for you.

Trips ZA Logo

For exciting History, Wildlife, Scenic and General Interest tours in the Panorama, Kruger, Lowveld regions or beyond call our Dream Merchants at TRIPS ZA on
013 764 1177

Email us at johnt@tripsza.com

In the Jan.2011 issue of South African Country Life there is an interesting “crit” on the new “Landy” Defender 110.

The article states: there is no cruising about in the latest Defender – it demands that you’re fully and dramatically engaged in the driving experience at all times. Everything about this vehicle feels designed to make you suffer for the privilege of being at the driving helm of such an automotive giant, but that in defence of the Defender (I’m not trying to be punny), the vehicle must be loved because it has changed so little in the past 60 years. It sounded like the best of “British” to me. I suppose some folk just dig tradition – or antiques. However we all love to indulge our passions, if we can afford to – don’t we?

As the facts were spun out in this article, simply imploring the reader to accept the idiosyncrasies or quirks of this quaint icon, which is actually rather unfashionable, or just plain eccentric, I could only but be reminded of one of my own Landy experiences, which incidentally vindicates the “crit”.

Some years ago I was involved in a regular weekend drink, eat, and laugh syndicate. What we really had in common with one another was not only a particular brand of humour, but also food, smooth dry red wine, Klippies and Coke, cheap sweet white plonk, and of course – beer. A “potjie” of delicious curry, stew or oxtail usually simmered close by during the winter months, as we determinedly mellowed to the occasion. However we did actually enjoy one another too.

One of the gang owned an ancient petrol fuelled long wheel base “Landy” station wagon, with Impala horns rakishly mounted at the front end of the bonnet above the radiator. This must have been the most decrepit worn out semblance of a rattle-trap wreck, and the most uncomfortable journey spoiler on wheels.

The owner was a fanatical “ Landy” freak. He was also a genuine British Colonial Kenyan – typically “Out of Africa”, and served with the Kenya African Rifles Regiment, and then eventually as an SAS member of the Commonwealth Anti-Terrorist Forces seconded to Malaysia.

He was selected to escort Princess Margaret of Great Britain during a visit with her sister Princess Elizabeth to the famous Treetops Hotel in Kenya during the early 50’s. He was sent with his company to attend the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth in England, as a representative of the Kenya African Rifles.

He was also the chief (I hung them six at a time) hangman in Kenya during the Mau-Mau rebellion, and reputedly hunted terrorists in the jungles on the slopes of Mount Kenya. He actually shot to death Komathe, the notorious Mau-Mau warlord, (or so the legend maintains.)

He was of course a most entertaining raconteur, dressed in a sarong (and nothing else) around his middle, with a floppy hat on his head….Tourists simply loved to party with him.

One weekend on a sweltering Sunday, it was suddenly mooted that we load the usual picnic trappings into the “old lady”, and head into the forest behind Sabie, to a breezy mountain spot to picnic, with a good view of the beautiful Sabie Valley below us.

After bouncing around, in 3^rd gear low ratio, suddenly the engine died. At that stage, none of us was really in any state to be able to sensibly diagnose what had convinced the “old cow” to become temperamental. We decided to carry on without a care in the world. The owner proclaimed that his “faithful old lady” would just never let him down. After all with a “Landy”, things couldn’t be that serious.

At this stage the battery had become too tired to swing the engine, and so we decided to assist the “old lady” to roll along and get the engine to turn. It was of course to no avail, as “old ladies” just don’t roll. Eventually however, we did manage to land her in a ditch – backwards. By this time the ice, the beers, and the Coke were all consumed, and we were wondering what to do next.

Eventually one of the brighter sparks decided to have a “tinker”, to try and find out what was actually wrong, only to discover that the distributor had disintegrated -  from the inside; which of course meant that we were facing a different kind of challenge. Here we were, illegally on a remote forest mountain track, on a Sunday afternoon, where nobody knew about us, with not even a remote chance of a helping hand. In the meantime, the afternoon shadows were growing longer and longer as the day began to fade. It then dawned on us that we were actually in a bit of a pickle.

I had luckily brought my cell phone with me on the trip, and after racking my brains managed to remember a friend’s number. I called him – he answered ! He responded to our “frantic” call for help !

As passionate as the “Landy” owner’s love of “old ladies” was, just so passionate was our saviour’s love of Unimogs, and…German culture. Well, of course the inevitable teasing and sledging soon got under way.

Eventually we managed to hitch the “old lady” to the Unimog and started towing. What amused me was that the  “Landy” could not even free-wheel down the steepest incline – the handbrake off I promise – and had to be towed the whole way home.

The owner and his wife lived in a forest company village with a number of other families nearby, and all the neighbours who had heard about the demise of the “old lady”, had come out to jeer/cheer the rescue attempt. Everyone knew of the eternal and interminable but passionate affair between the owner and his dearly beloved.

The owner’s acute embarrassment at having to be rescued and unceremoniously dragged home by a Unimog was most obvious; he displayed the brightest, pinkest hue around his jowls, in startling contrast to his ash grey mop of hair. He was of course the perfect study of the stiff upper lip Colonial Duke who could never be seen to flinch even in the face of the greatest adversity, as he studiously guided the “old lady” home.

On reflection I do believe it was the “Landy” that brought the best of British out of him. It must have been eternally stalking his psyche, and needed air by demanding attention through the association of something familiarly and superiorly British. Unfortunately he was of a dying breed, and there are fewer and fewer original Colonials left.

With all the excitement, the safe arrival was of course an excuse for another celebration. More booze was procured forthwith; a fire was lit in the boma; another one in the griddle; and it wasn’t long before the tantalizing aroma of sizzling flesh lured even the most reticent of neighbours out for the evening, and even though some of us had to work on the morrow, the party extended into the early hours.

A group of revelers was sitting on a bench near the boma fire, when the legs suddenly collapsed, and the whole gang landed on their backs in the grass awash with their drinks !

I guess the best of British will always bounce awkwardly and traditionally along with a stiff upper lip in a “Landy”.