Don't be a pain in the whatsit: Rule #2 of 5

How’s this for keeping things in perspective ? The Orange downstream from the famous Augrabies Falls. Makes one feel really small. Keeps you humble. Which brings me to this:

DON'T EVANGELIZE about your newfound fruitarian life.
The fact that you believe that you have seen the light does not confer the right (or the obligation) upon you to bore & bludgeon anyone else into abandoning their own convictions and instantly join your crusade. They don't owe you a buy-in; Your fruitarianism is not a franchise.

OK, of course, speak your truth – if and when appropriate, with kindness and discernment. But you'd better accept that everyone else is already doing his/her best. Whatever the evidence to the contrary, we are all just doing the best we can, when we can, according to the awareness we’re holding at the time. So, leave the persuading for now - you have quite enough work to do in overcoming your own inertia.

Oh, you don't have that kind of problem ? Well, lucky you. Even so, for the rest of us ordinary (and honest) mortals:

Better to keep your eyes on your own goals – they are glorious enough, and all too often, seemingly unattainable enough. Like the Augrabies Xtreme. Look at the picture - that's the kind of terrain waiting for me. And there's the heat: it couldn't have been very far off 50 deg C when we were there, and I loved it. But I wasn't running, I wasn't carrying provisions for a week, and I didn't have to keep doing it for days on end. And then there are still the dunes...

Sounds quite mad, but people have done it. WOMEN have done it. And the woman who won the women's section last time around is now running the Atacama desert. But I don't like to think about her. She's young, she's blonde, she's an experienced ultra-athlete, and she's not a fruitarian. See what I mean ? Just absolutely NO POINT in looking at someone else's journey - it'll result in one of two things: either despair, or pride. Either way, it's a killer.

Who's the woman ? Oh, Mimi Anderson - just Google her name - goes as marvellousmimi. But I'd really rather not think about her right now ...

The Man

No, sorry - he vetoed the sheepskin pictures. But here he is - just before the start of a hair-raising trek down the Nossob valley which brought us to the TweeRivieren camp gates loooong after the justifiably annoyed ranger had locked up for the night. A map-miscalculation which I do not recommend. Must admit though, it was exciting - after all, it was a Kalahari night.

The picture is in fact quite revealing - albeit rather less so than the sheepskin pics would have been. First of all, he likes rivers & forests & cool green shady jungly places. A 40+ deg C desert is not his preferred habitat. But it is mine - which makes this the picture of a generous man. It is also the picture of someone who's breaking the law - not allowed on foot in this part of wild predator country. But then the late afternoon light was making magic out of tsamma melons and red sand...

So there you have my one-man support team for the Augrabies Xtreme: a heat-intolerant, desert-hating free spirit who excels at navigating - in the dark - through dangerous, possibly hostile territory. I rather think I might be in good hands.

Which brings us to the matter of support and community - and that serious challenge which awaits all fruitarians (see 4 problems - 1 solution). As soon as I've taken care of some heavy breathing involving a couple of dumb-bells and a pezzi ball...

Quest for the perfect avo

More than 500 kinds of avocado in the world, and what do our South African shops offer us? 4, 5 different kinds ? Fuerte, Hass, Pinkerton, couple of others ? Easiest to find – though not necessarily the cheapest – is the one that only reveals its inedible black threads & black bruises once you cut it. Show me a fruitarian who hasn’t bought a box of those…

Many, many years ago I found what I still think is the perfect avo. The size of a rugby ball – yes, literally, no exaggeration. Found them in the Lowveld – now Mpumalanga. Deep yellow buttery, nutty flesh. I have a vivid memory of an evening in the bushveld, sitting on the rocks high above the Olifants River, and eating a slice of one of these. It was my whole supper and I had trouble finishing it. Although that might have had something to do with a small drama involving red-checked underwear & a couple of bats – but that’s another story.

Anyhow – ever since that time I’ve been on the track of those avos. Needless to say: not commercially available. Then I met someone who remembered seeing the rugby-ball avos at a Lowveld wedding reception. She knew a Greek guy who used to be married to someone who had a friend who owned the farm which produced the avos. But then the Greek guy wasn’t talking to his ex anymore, so that trail went cold.

And then an internet-trawl produced this:
"Giant avocados, large enough to make three gallons of avocado soup or two pounds of guacamole, are about to go on sale in Britain. Fourteen inches in circumference and as large as a water melon, the naturally grown pears are eight times the size of a normal avocado and will feed a family of six. The monster fruit are all descended from a single, ancient tree at Devil's Cliff, a town in South Africa's Northern Province. At the time of the Dutch Settlers, the tree was discovered to produce bumper-sized avocados, probably the result of a genetic mutation."
An item in a 5-year old British newspaper. Not too useful. But still - a clue in Duiwelskloof.

Then, couple of weeks ago, I spoke to Essie Honiball – and she also remembers those exact same avos. Many years ago she had in fact propagated one of these wonder fruits, but just as her little tree was bearing its first massive fruit – not ready to pick – she had to move. They heard later that the tree had had to make way for some development.

So here is a Cry from the Heart: Is there anyone out there who can put me on the track of these gigantic avos? And to all fruitarians: please do yourself a favour & start searching. If you have in fact personally encountered these avos before, you won’t need me to tell you why; if you haven't – well, you’re just going to have to take my word for it. I'm not even going to TRY to describe the flavour.

In the mean time: some extra motivation for growing our own avos:
* In one year a single California avocado tree can absorb as much carbon as is produced by a car driven 26,000 miles.
* Two mature avocado trees can provide enough oxygen for a family of four.
* One avocado tree produces nearly 260 pounds of oxygen each year.
* A one acre avocado orchard removes up to 2.6 tons of carbon dioxide each year.

And to Karin: Of course! Wouldn't that be something: both of us on the Augrabies Xtreme. Bearing in mind that you're about half my age, I would have absolutely no hesitation in using the fact that I helped to nurse you through the measles when you were 4, to blackmail you into carrying my pack over the highest dunes !

Kyloe

Kyloe ? A kind of cow (bulls too I suppose) you'll find in the Scottish highlands (and lowlands, I suppose, if they have lowlands there, but I haven't bothered to find out). In some previous century the house began as a Scots Reverend's cow-shed (this is the short version of the story); the main front room still features the ancient feeding-trough - worn-down sections in the massive yellow-wood beam showing where the cows rubbed their heads & necks as they fed. Well, it seemed right to keep the name.

And the "Experiment" ? Well, there are a few parts to it. One of them began a few days ago, in the Sports Science Institute in Cape Town - the temple where the Fit & the Firm go to worship, and elite athletes go to be honed into something even more elite. You know about the two guys who ran the ENTIRE Great Wall of China - all 4,000+ kms of it - in one go ? Well the SSI was where they went to fine-tune their training. That should give you some idea.

And then I turn up. Dear heaven. In my please-hide-as-much-as-possible T-shirt.

A fresh young blonde takes me in hand, and - to her eternal credit - doesn't collapse in uncontrollable mirth when she discovers Why I am there. Of course I wasn't going to tell her anything. But then when I don't detect any obvious sneering & sarcasm, I lose my head, and start confessing. Suddenly she's my Friend who is going to help me to get to my goal. So she measures & prods & fills out questionnaires, & next week I'm going back to get the training schedule she's working out for me. (I'm choosing to believe that she needs a whole week to devise this schedule - NOT because of the outrageousness of the challenge, but because she is a good kid who is sincerely trying to do a thorough job.)

The challenge ? Ever heard of the Augrabies Xtreme ? Well, the fresh young blonde also hadn't heard about it before - perhaps that's why she didn't flinch at the thought of getting me ready to do the thing. But then, I didn't actually tell her the whole truth. I didn't tell her I want to do the thing on fruit. THAT is where the Challenge becomes the Experiment.

I think I'll go lie down now - suddenly feeling a bit faint.