Port St. Johns

The road to Port St. Johns is beautiful, although scattered with the odd pot hole, herd boy or Nguni cattle wondering around, it is a driver's paradise with awesome curves & bends undulating through the scenery.  The Allroad's performance was exquisite, I was actually disappointed the driving had ended once we arrived.  

Port St. Johns on the Wild Coast is a curious place and reminds me of the old 80's TV show Island of the Golden Monkeys (I think that is what it was called?).  It is a real backpackers nirvana with laid back surfers, dread-locked travellers, graffiti, lonely dogs in the street, ganga and a sense of 'Hey bru, I can check the surf from my hammock man!' while you sip milky tea from a chipped, enameled tin cup.  I wish we could've stayed longer to soak it in all in, but to be honest we weren't in the same frame of mind and had to press on.

On the way out the following morning we did check out the bay and, despite the litter and general derelict appearance of the countryside, this place has true potential.