Fishing Stories:

In true fishing story tradition, the size, weight and quantities of the fish concerned in these stories cannot be guaranteed.

"There's a reason they call it fishing and not catching." - Anonymous

"Fishing is not a matter of life and death - it's much more important than that!" - Anonymous

"Even a bad day of fishing is better than a good day of work." - Anonymous "I only make movies to finance my fishing".  - Lee Marvin Learning to Fish in the ‘Vubu: Every fisherman has to start somewhere, and the children of Port St Johns had the perfect fishing school.  The river provided a bountiful source of delight for every young child and rewarded them richly for their cumbersome efforts.  Generations of Port St Johns children served their apprenticeships on the river. “The river at that time was still in pristine condition and teeming with fish. We started fishing at a young age using sticks with line tied to the end and a cork with about a two foot trace.  We would catch a lot of eels and small fish.  We would also have great fun catching prawns.  We would use earthworms as bait and fish in the muddy river water.  When our corks began bobbing in a certain manner we would know that there was a prawn (or two) on the end. We would lift the line slowly until the prawn’s feelers breached the surface of the water and then scoop it out using an ordinary little kiddies beach scoop net.  We would fill a bucket with prawns in no time.  I remember doing this a lot with Donovan, Joe and Tim Mcloughlan as their mother, Aunt Sybil, had a particular appetite for prawns and was always thrilled when we came home with buckets full.  The Mcloughlan brothers lived on a farm several kilometers further up the river from Undercliff.”  (Dudley Daniel) River Mouth - Port St Johns * Photo taken by and reproduced with permission from Dale Clendennen * See her Facebook page: South Africa My Best Click on photo for larger view Fishing Stories that gave Reg and Keith Daniel their Pondo names: “One morning, when fishing in the main river, Reg Daniel hooked something very big and strong. It was so big that it began pulling him out into the river. Unwilling to let go of his rod, he was battling to hold his ground.  His younger brother, Keith, grabbed Reg from behind and dug his heels in.  Suddenly, the line snapped and they both went flying backwards, landing in a heap in the mud.  Keith found himself buried in the mud under Reg and to this day, holds the name Madakisa meaning ‘the dirty one’. In time, they grew more skilled and would regularly catch bigger fish in the river and sea, keeping mom and dad well supplied, especially during the Cob and Grunter runs.  Because of all the time he spent fishing, Reg’s name is Gudlulwandle which translates to ‘walk along the edge of the sea’.”    (Notes recording the memories of his brothers, Reg and Keith Daniel, by Dudley Daniel) Cob Fishing Stories from Port St Johns: “In 1960 the cob were on the run in the Umzimvubu River mouth.  My dad* had a rowing boat and Gloria (Keightley) Daniel and I got into this to join the whole of Port St Johns on the river.  I was rowing and rowing and rowing, everyone who had a boat passed us. We were going fast to nowhere. We didn’t even get our rods wet, still rowing up stream.  We eventually made it to the Rock when the boats started passing us BACK to the river mouth. So we turned to follow them. I was rowing as fast as I could and then disaster ... one oar broke.  I moved to the front of the boat to punt home.  There was a Coloured man by the name of Nelson**.  He saw we were in trouble and he rowed out to help us.  He got to us and said “Pass your anchor over”. Well, that’s when we discovered we hadn’t even upped anchor and were dragging it along with us!  Needless to say, we were nearly crying with laughter and I was more than pissed off because we didn’t catch a fish. Some of the fish caught that year were in excess of 100lbs”.*** (Shirley Eayrs Smith) * James Eayrs, owner of the Central Bakery in the 1950's ** This may have been Napoleon, a well-known Port St Johns fisherman, ghillie, and source of other amusing stories in the town.  (See the post in October titled "Characters of Port St Johns - Napoleon the Fisherman") ** 100lbs = 45 kg "I can remember the pavement in front of the Winston Hotel being lined with cob as people waited to weigh their fish on the hotel scale.  I can also remember many successful occasions for us, fishing with our cousins Anthony and Lindsay. The first one that I ever pulled in was when I was about nine years old, fishing with Dad* and Uncle Cecil**.  Uncle Cecil had already caught a few and when he hooked another one he gave his rod to me and allowed me to fight it and land it. I will never forget the thrill, the fatigue and the relief of not losing his fish, which was a cob of around thirty pounds or more.”  (Dudley Daniel) * Willie Daniel ** Cecil Daniel Cecil Daniel looses his shark to a bigger shark: “Our uncle Cecil was a great fisherman and, at one time, fished for a living. My older brothers, Reg and Keith, remember being with him on one terrifying occasion when he was fishing for shark off Bird Rock at Third Beach. Uncle Cecil hooked into a large shark.  He played the shark for a while, and then brought it in close to the rock.  Suddenly a large, ominous dark shadow approached the shark, and with a flurry of white water and a burgeoning mass of blood, the mysterious creature bit Uncle Cecil’s shark off just below its head. That kept them out of the water for a while.” (Notes recording the memories of his brothers, Reg and Keith Daniel, by Dudley Daniel) DO YOU HAVE A GOOD FISHING STORY?  Every person who has visited the Wild Coast has an interesting fishing story.  Send your story to the email address at the top of the page for inclusion in the collection.   Give a man a fish and he has food for a day; teach him how to fish and you can get rid of him for the entire weekend". - Zenna Schaffer

Top of the Mountain Stories:

Port St Johns is dominated by two features - the mountains and the river.  The cliffs on either side of the river form the "gates" guarding the river gorge.  Hundreds of millions of years ago, they were massive beds of sand that eventually hardened to become the impressive cliffs we see today.

"The lofty table-topped mountains on each side of the river appears to have been cleft to its base, making the sheer sides of the wedge-shaped gap through which the Umzimvubu River flows.  These two cliffs take their names from General Thesiger and Commodore Sullivan, who arrived in Port St Johns in the 'Active' in 1878 to hoist the British flag.  Mt Thesiger is on the west bank, the same side as the village, and Mt Sullivan on the east bank.  That is the bank on the side of Lusikisiki.  From whatever angle, these forest-clad cliffs are an imposing sight as the rise on either side of the river."  (Jean Coulter, author - Remembering ... The Life, The People And The Places:  2001)

Mt Thesiger, despite its sheer cliff face which rises more than 300 meters, is the more accessible mountain of the two 'Gates'.  Its top is so flat that there is an airstrip running along its summit.  For generations, the children of the town have spent their school holidays trekking up the mountain and  entertaining themselves on the summit near the sheer drop-off.

The following stories all have Mt Thesiger (local name 'Mpembeni') as their setting.  The first story involves the airstrip at the top of the mountain being used as a training ground for an 11 year old first-time pilot.  The second story illustrates the fact that young boys should not use a 300 meter high cliff as a playground, and the third story is about a hare, a hat and a hunting trip to the top of the mountain in the dark:

Learning to fly off Mt Thesiger:
"One memory that I will never forget:  My dad, who worked for Eli Spilkin from 1976, owned a Cassna 4 seater.  I think he bought it from Eli.  I was about 11.  We arrive and land in Port St Johns.  He had some business to do.  After he finished doing what he needed to do he turns around and says 'Son, today is the day you will learn to fly.'  After a quick 30 minute crash course, and a couple of Bells whiskeys later, we were off. Him riding shotgun, and two sheets to the wind, I learned to fly.  We landed in Umtata without incident.  He was one crazy guy."
(Andrew Baillie - his dad, John, managed the Savoy and Grosvenor Hotels in Umtata)

Naughty boys on the top of the mountain, a near-tragic fall and Wilson the Hero:
"As very small boys, my brother Arthur and I would spend a lot of time with one of our greatest friends, young John Handley, who lived just up the road (in Undercliff) and was the same age as Arthur.  We would get up to a lot of mischief and eventually Aunt Molly Handley employed a local man to accompany us at all times and make sure that we behaved reasonably well.  His name was Wilson, and he was a star.  He had the patience of Job and we gave him an incredibly hard time.  We had him at his wits end trying to keep us safe and out of trouble.  We would climb trees and then be too afraid to climb down.  Wilson would have to come to the rescue.  Wilson would have to watch us like a hawk when we went down to the river, keeping us from drowning.  (This was before we learned to swim).  Wilson would get into trouble for allowing us to get our clothes full of mud.  If one of us did get hurt, Wilson would get into trouble.  If we were late for meals, Wilson would get into trouble.  Poor old Wilson, we ran him ragged.

One of Wilson's greatest feats took place when were were a little older.  We had climbed  up to the top of Mt Thesiger and were rolling boulders over the edge of the cliff and watching them fall down to the distant forest, about 700ft below.  There was a ledge about 30ft down and the boulders would strike the ledge and bounce out before falling the rest of the way.  John Sobey was with us that day.  He had been tenaciously trying to loosen a huge boulder, a little way back from the edge of the cliff, when it suddenly came free.  He lost control of it and it rolled down the slope straight at John Handley who was standing on the edge of the cliff watching a recently launched boulder.  John Sobey shouted a warning and John Handley instinctively jumped out of the way but, unfortunately, he also jumped over the edge of the cliff!

By some incredible stroke of luck, when he hit the ledge, about 30ft down, he stuck on it and did not bounce over.  We could see him lying on the ledge, unconscious, and thought the worst.  Wilson, in tears, as we all were, had an extremely difficult climb down to retrieve John.  He found a roundabout route on the one side of the cliff where it was not too sheer and was able to climb down to the ledge.  He crawled along the ledge until he got to John, took his shirt off, got John onto his back, and tied him on with the shirt.  He then slowly climbed back up again, with us all bawling and praying that he would make it.  He did make it and we set off for home with John still on Wilson's back.  John had not died and regained consciousness on the way home.  He suffered a concussion and plenty of bruises and scrapes.  Amazingly - no broken or fractured bones!

I think Wilson resigned soon after that and went back to his kraal to de-stress."  (Dudley Daniel)

The Hare in the Hat:
An amusing snippet about a hat and the hare in the hat:

"We used to go up Mt Thesiger to shoot hares at night.  Once we went up with a bloke by the name of Cyril Rogers, a Coloured guy who was a blockman at the Tiger Flats butchery.  We used to go up from behind Garth Lloyd's place in Tiger Flats.  Cyril always wore a hat.  That night, we had a large hare in the bright torch light.  It was sitting up looking at us and Cyril crept towards it and decided that he would throw his hat over the hare.  Well, as he threw the hat over it, the hare took off - still wearing the hat, into the darkness and down over the cliff!

I'm sure the hare survived somehow, but Cyril's hat was never seen again.  It probably got caught in a downdraft and went floating off into the abyss."  (Howard Daniel)

  

Sporting Life - Cricket & Golf Stories:

CRICKET:

"The bowler approached the wicket at a lope, a trot, and then a run. He suddenly exploded in a flurry of arms and legs, out of which flew a ball.”  - Douglas Adams, author Life, The Universe and Everything

"How can you tell your wife you are just popping out to play a match and then not come back for five days?" - Rafa Benitez, Spanish soccer player, trying to understand Test cricket

At one stage in the 1950s and early 1960’s, cricket played a pivotal role in the sporting and social life of the town.  The cricket field was behind the Post Office – a large open area that, in English country town terms, would have been called the “village green”.  This term evokes a grassy rural environment, a place for public gatherings.   In Port St Johns, the village green was also the site for the fresh fruit and vegetable market, held on Saturday mornings on the south-western side of the field near the Anglican Church. 

 

The First President of the Cricket Club was a Delville Wood Survivor:

“Fred Glazier had lost a leg at the Battle of Delville Wood in the First World War and was elected as first President of the Port St Johns Cricket Club, obviously not as a player, but he was very interested and played an important part in the formation of the Cricket Club.  He was a great fan of cricket, always there watching cricket matches.  I can picture him: an elderly gentleman with grey hair, wearing glasses and a little hat on his head, watching cricket matches, parked in his wheelchair under the big old Mtombe tree near the tennis court side of the cricket field.”  (Howard Daniel)

Building the wicket in PSJ:

“The Port St Johns cricketing experiences will remain with me until my dying days and I cherish them even more that those I experienced playing Currie Cup and International cricket in South Africa. In Port St Johns we had to build the soil/clay wicket with ant-hill soil which we got from Dad's farm, 'Retreat Farm' up on the western bank of the river beyond Isinuka.  Before every game we had to mow the grass with a mower attached to Dad's truck.” (Desmond Daniel)

'Snips' Thompson makes his final run:

Howard and Desmond Daniel recall the sad moment during a cricket match when 'Snips' Thompson passed away during a cricket match on the cricket field while playing cricket.  'Snips' owned and ran the trading store shop at Tombo.  He was batting with his son-in-law, John Wallis.  Howard and Desmond's memory of the incident is that 'Snips' faced a ball, hit it, ran up to the bowler’s end, turned around, fell over and unfortunately didn’t stand up again.  (Howard and Desmond Daniel)




THE GOLF CLUB:
“To find a man's true character, play golf with him.” (P.G. Wodehouse, author and humorist)


"He missed short putts because of the uproar of the butterflies in the adjoining meadows.”  (P.G. Wodehouse, author and humorist)


 “Golf is a game whose aim is to hit a very small ball into an ever smaller hole, with weapons singularly ill-designed for the purpose.” (Winston Churchill)


 As in the case of the cricket club, the golf club also played an important part in the life of the town.  Adults played their games on the golf course while the children played their games around the club house.  Groups of nannies would accompany the parents on a golf day and would be responsible for the safety of the children while the adults played.
            Golf was mainly played on Saturdays and Sundays, and there would also be quick games played on Wednesday afternoons when the shops were closed.

“I was told that the Golf Course was established in about 1903.”  (Louis Smit)

“I won only one golf trophy while I lived in Port St Johns and that was the Trophy of Light presented by Vincent Clark.  I was playing off an 11 handicap.”  (Louis Smit)

“The Golf Club House was an important party venue.” (Louis Smit)


“At the time that Capital Radio was based in Port St Johns, (the early 1980’s) the social life was amazing, the golf club was still very active.” (Kevin Mckay)

“My dad, Andy Smit, won the Club Championship 15 times and was Club Captain for 13 consecutive years.  From 1959 to 1976 he had a score of 2 (eagle) on every hole and 4 hole-in-one’s on the Port St Johns golf course.  He was green-keeper between 1963 and 1976 with Paul Becker helping out with repairs on mowers.  Andy held the course record of 58 strokes during 1959 to 1976.”  (Louis Smit)


Layout of the Golf Course:
“Green Number 5 was nicknamed “Majuba”.  It was at the top of the golf course; if you were at the club house and teed off in a westerly direction, right up to the top of the hill.  I suppose that, because it was on top of a hill, it had been named after the Boer War Battle of Majuba Hill.  The golf course was only a par 33 for the nine holes.  A normal course is 36 for nine holes.   Because of its short distance, the course was cut to a par 33.  There wasn’t a par 5, there were only three par 3’s and the rest were 4’s.  There was a short hole from number 3, across number 2 green to a hillside, where, if you were a trick golfer you could land your ball on a bank at the top of the green and get your ball to run down the green.” (Howard Daniel)


Stories from the 19^th Hole:

 

“If you drink, don’t drive.  Don’t even putt.” (Dean Martin, singer, actor and golfing fan)






“The 19^th hole Pub was at the Winston Hotel until the Golf Club Pub was opened in 1969 and Dave Banks was the first licencee of the Pub.”  (Louis Smit)





Mike Richards and the 19^th Hole:
“Mike Richards lived in a house overlooking the golf course, near the top of the course. The tee to the 6^th green was parallel to the road, and the 6^th green was very close to the 8^th green.  Between them was a deep sandbunker.

 After one session at the 19^th hole with the other members of his four-ball, namely Paul Becker, Jack Harsand and Skip Hamilton, Mike Richards decided that he had had enough of the whiskeys, or whatever he had been drinking, and that he should get home otherwise his wife, Flo, would give him hell.  He set off to walk across the golf course back to his house.  I don’t know whether he had his clubs with him, but it was dark and Mike said goodnight to the others and left the club house to stroll home.

He should have walked down from the club house, crossed up towards the green number 8, skirted around the bunker, crossed over the green number 6, and then crossed the road to his house.

            After a while, Flo Richards stormed into the club house, angry, and obviously ready to drag Mike off home.  She demanded 'Where’s Mike?  Where’s Mike?'  The rest of his four-ball said that he had gone home a while ago and she responded by saying that he wasn’t at home.  At that point, everyone started to get a bit worried, so a search party set out to look for him.  Eventually, he was found, fast asleep in the bunker!”  (Howard Daniel)
 

Characters of Port St Johns - Napoleon the Fisherman

One of the best-known characters of Port St Johns, Napoleon (generally known as 'Nap'), was a fisherman and ghillie.  The stories about him reflect his salty sense of humour.

 “Napoleon was a Coloured fisherman who lived to the ripe old age of about 90.”
(Louis Smit)

“Has anyone told you of the Coloured man who many years ago used to sell bait on the old Port St Johns jetty?  I am told that a ship had come into the harbour and the jetty was packed with people.  The bait man was shouting in English and Afrikaans ‘Bait ... aas ... bait ... aas ... bait ... aas!’ when a lady near him said ‘Siss, your bait stinks’.

The bait man replied ‘Jus like your aas ... bait ... aas ... bait!’” (Shirley Eayrs Smith)

“I think that Nap’s surname was Lawrence.”  (Howard Daniel)

Napoleon smells fish:
“One day Napoleon was walking past the veranda of the Needles Hotel with his fishing rods over his shoulder when a visitor from the Transvaal, who was sitting on the veranda, asked him 'Why are you going fishing today?' and Nap replied 'I can jus' smell them, there's fish out there today.'  (Howard Daniel)

Nap’s Cousin is drowned at the River Mouth near Paul’s Cove:

“Evan Hope-Bailey and Peter Sobey had bought a skiboat and were going to do skiboating on a commercial basis in Port St Johns.  One day they were going out to sea very close to Paul’s Cove, below the Lighthouse, because that was where the channel was at the time.  They had one of Nap’s cousins on board, probably as the ghillie, when the boat was overturned and unfortunately Nap’s cousin was drowned.  This was in about 1953 or 1954.”  (Howard Daniel)

Napoleon is Stranded:

Napoleon was a ghillie in the town and, on this occasion, was commissioned by a visitor who had come down from Jo’burg.  The visitor was told that Napoleon was the best ghillie in the town, so he employed Napoleon for a couple of days and was very happy with his help while fishing.  At the end of his employment, he gave Nap a cheque in payment.  It was made out to Napoleon.  Before the visitor left the town, he told Nap that he was to take the cheque to the bank to get the money.  Well, there was only one bank in the town, the Standard Bank, so Nap went off to the Standard Bank to cash his cheque.

If you can visualise the bank, there isn’t much space from the front door to the teller’s counter, and in those days there was a division down the bank so that the whites went to the left-hand side and the non-whites to the right.  The bank manager’s name was Mike Richards, a short, bald-headed man.  Mike had worked for the Standard Bank elsewhere, but wanted to retire in Port St Johns, so managed to arrange it that he would spend his last years before retirement working in the bank in Port St Johns.
 

            On the day that Nap decided to go to the bank to cash his cheque, it was a hot Saturday morning during the holiday season.  Now Nap enjoyed having drinks at the 'Needles Hotel' on Saturday afternoons.  The bank was full and Nap arrived, hot and thirsty, eager to get his money and go off to the 'Needles'.  The non-white queue stretched out of the door.  On duty inside the bank was a new young teller who had recently arrived in the town to work in the bank. 

            The young teller was working very slowly and carefully.  Nap stood patiently in line, waiting for his turn, but was becoming steadily more and more thirsty as the time passed.  When he finally reached the counter, he handed over the cheque.  The teller looked at the cheque and said that it was a crossed cheque and that Nap would have to deposit the cheque into his bank account.  Nap said that he didn’t have a bank account and just wanted the money.  The teller insisted that he had to deposit the cheque to get the money.  This went on for a while, with Nap becoming hotter and hotter under the collar, and the young teller firmly sticking to his story that the cheque had to be deposited.  The lines were growing on both sides of the bank as more and more customers were waiting to be helped.  The conversation became louder and louder, and the customers on both sides of the partition started pushing and shoving.  Nap refused to back down:  he wanted his money, and he wanted it right away!

            The bank manager’s office was off to the left hand side of the bank, and Mike Richards must have heard things becoming more and more heated inside the bank, so he opened his door and walked out into the foyer.  Nap saw Mike and called over to him 'I jus' want my money and this man won’t give it to me!'  Mike, of course, knew Nap, so called him into his office.  Mike knew that the visitor had a safe account, so he sorted it all out by opening an account for Nap, cashed the cheque and Nap walked out of the manger's office with the cash in his hands.

            By now, a crowd had gathered in the bank, all waiting to see how this would end.  As he walked out of Mike’s office, Nap called out to the crowd while waving the money in his hands ’The problem wit' ‘jis town, we only has one bank, so now I’s stranded wit' 'da Standard!” (Howard Daniel)

Second Beach Memories:

These memories of holidays and days on Second Beach are told by Tabankulu resident and regular holidaymaker to Port St Johns, Allan Moncur:

“I was born in Tabankulu in 1949 and my dad would drive us down to Port St Johns for holidays in our Oldsmobile.  We would stay at the 'Resthaven', owned by Shumi Goss.  We would go for a swim at Second Beach which had a hell of a hill on the way to it. Some vehicles would need to reverse up it as the petrol ran back in the tank and could not be pumped to the engine. At Second Beach was a restaurant and you could hire belly-boards made out of plywood, brightly painted, and there were also deckchairs and umbrellas. The meals there were great as well.  Later Second Beach had municipal huts built for hire but 'Resthaven' was still our spot.

Years later, on 16th December I would drive from Tabankulu and meet with a young bunch from Port St Johns. Can't remember their names, but we would be at the beach then go back to various homes. One was near the police station, another up the hill towards the airstrip. Funny enough, no alcohol was needed for a great day.

One time a surfer from our 16th December group was riding the waves at Second Beach when he came in at one hell of a speed. We asked him what was up. He said he had just seen a shark’s fin near him that made the water turn brown and that was enough reason to move!

 Another time we were watching two guys trying to paddle out to sea and they were getting washed towards the rocks on the left of the beach. Then they disappeared from sight and later one of them came running along the beach to tell us his mate was in trouble around the corner. We scrambled for ropes and ran over the hill to where he was. Fortunately he was washed out onto the rocks."

 
“Second Beach - my mom would rouse us her daughters for early-morning swims at Second Beach.  Gorgeous!  Even went for moonlight swims, although not in deep water, ever alert to dangers!"   (Ethel Clarke Donaldson)

"My dad was born there.  They lived at Second Beach.  He used to walk to school in the village from a tender age.  There was a 'test hill' on the way to Second Beach which was so steep that all the cars used to have to reverse up."  (Peter Turner)

A lazy day at Second Beach, Port St Johns.  Photo

from My Port St Johns Weekend of Discovery by Glen Vincent

Characters of Port St Johns - Tom Egling

A self-styled traffic cop, Tom Egling was in actual fact an ex-public prosecutor.  In his retirement, he decided to do something about the generally haphazard parking style adopted by Port St Johns residents.

“He was an ex-prosecutor.  He decided to start giving out fines to people for the way they were parking in the town.  Everyone was shocked when he gave his wife, Thelma, a parking ticket for parking badly in front of the bakery!”  (Gloria Keightley Daniel)

As a reaction to the above snippet about Tom Egling, Kevin Daniel has this amusing memory of Tom:

“I had to laugh when reading about Tom Egling, and seem to remember waving to him as he roared past on his scooter, and him waving back with his foot, not wanting to let go of the handle bars.” (Kevin Daniel)

“As a child, I truly believed that Tom Egling was a traffic policeman with sole power over us riding our bicycles.  We had to do a ‘bicycle driving test’ in front of him.  The ‘test’ entailed demonstrating that we could balance properly, knew how to use the brakes, and how to use arm gestures when turning left or right.  He even checked that the bicycle bell was working!  Looking back, I now realise that the ‘test’ had been arranged between our parents and Tom in an attempt to make us road-wise whilst on our bikes, but Constable Egling took it all very seriously and was suitably strict and officious during the 'test'. 
I remember having a deep-seated fear of him, in case I did the wrong thing while on the road, and constantly kept an eye open for him to appear on his scooter if I made a small bicycle-driving mistake!  I don’t know what I thought would happen to my precious blue bicycle with the basket on the front to carry my dog, but there must have been a worry that Constable Tom Egling would arrive promptly at the slightest traffic misdemeanour and confiscate my bicycle – dog and all! (Natalie Daniel Erasmus)

Tom Egling, the scooter, a dog, mbanga-mbanga and illicit liquor:

This hilarious incident involves our local Constable Tom Egling being chased off his scooter by a dog and becoming closely attached to lots of smelly weeds!

Picture the trading store at Undercliff:  directly across the road from it on the river bank was the old house that at various times belonged to Joseph Chiazzari, ‘Old Man’ Hacking, and ‘S.S’ Harrison.  At the time of writing (2013), it is the 'Spotted Grunter Resort'.   The amusing story is re-told here by Howard Daniel, who witnessed the event.  Constable Tom Egling probably didn’t see the incident as amusing at the time, but the events of the story would do well in a black-and-white slapstick comedy movie.

“The piece of land immediately to the bridge side of the Harrison’s house was an overgrown area covered by lots of mbanga-mbanga,  a wild, stinky weed that grows into a thick shrub, as well as white ‘Pith Trees’ and banana trees.  Next door to the Undercliff shop lived Tommy and Molly Handley.  Tommy was the owner of Tommy’s Garage, and at the time of this story, also owned a collie dog.

Constable Tom Egling lived further up beyond the bridge in the Tiger Flats area, and every morning, used to ride a Vesper scooter to get to work in town.  He worked for the SA Police and also acted as prosecutor for the state.  He was a veteran of World War II and possibly suffered from shellshock, but had a brilliant mind, very literate and well-read.  His parents were from Engcobo.

On this particular morning, Tom Egling was on his scooter and driving to town.  Uncle Tommy’s collie dog happened to be sitting in the sun at the gate to their house opposite the mbanga-mbanga field when Tom Egling came past.  The collie dog saw him coming, and it took off, chasing him and barking. Tom Egling took evasive action, and disappeared down into the mbanga-mbangas and bananas with the dog behind, barking at him!

 All you could see was one scooter and one Tom Egling down into the weeds and bananas!  He was unhurt, but the local Pondos all stood around watching and laughing.  He was known to them as ‘Jogimbalara’ (which means “to search for the illicit alcohol brewing stills”.  This name came from the fact that Tom Egling, as a police constable, was responsible for searching and clearing illegal stills in the forest that were used for brewing the ga-vin).  As a result, they thought he deserved being chased into the stinky weeds and bananas by a collie dog! 

 

Daisy gets a fright on the way to school:

The children who lived outside of the village of Port St Johns had to use inventive ways to get to school every day.  This tale involves a donkey cart pulled by a nervous mule, a brave cart driver, and three boys who had the ride of their lives!  It is told by Howard Daniel.

“My uncle Willie built a donkey cart with two disselbooms.  It was pulled by a mule, Daisy.  I think Daisy originally belonged to my dad (Sam), who either gave it or sold it to Uncle Willie, who built the cart.  The idea was that they would leave Isinuka in the morning with Baainet driving the cart.  My cousins, Reg and Keith, would be sitting on a seat lower down behind the driver who had the reins.  They would pick me up at the gate of my house in Undercliff and we would all go to school together. 

            One morning, when we were between Undercliff and town, close to the area called ‘White Rocks’, a grader started up and it backfired, letting off a sudden loud noise just as the donkey cart passed.  Well …. Daisy, being a very skittish mule, took off! 

            Baainet tried to control her, but she was bolting hell for leather, and wouldn’t be slowed down. The three of us in the back of the cart thought that this was great fun!  The wheels were whirring, the dust was flying.  The road into town wasn’t tarred at that stage, so there was dust everywhere.

Eventually Baainet had to try to stop the mule somehow, so next thing, he jumped off the cart onto Daisy’s back, cowboy-style, just like you see them doing in the movies, and held her round her neck, trying to cover her eyes or turn her head so that she would stop.  He managed to get her to slow down by the time we got into town, but we made it to school in record time that day with a panting mule and a Baainet with his eyes as wide as saucers.  Poor old Baainet:  he had been threatened that if anything happened to us on the way to school, he would be held responsible, but we didn’t see any danger in it.

            I mentioned this incident about Daisy the mule bolting us to school to Reg not too long ago, and he remembered it too.  I vividly remember it, even though it happened in 1947 or 1948.”  

   

A civet in a tree causes a disturbance:

An amusing tale from his childhood told by Dudley Daniel, youngest son of Willie Daniel of Undercliff.

"One occasion when Mom and Dad were out, one of dad’s employees came to the house to report that a wildcat (a civet) was attempting to get at the fowls in their run. My older brother Arthur took dad’s revolver, a box of bullets and a torch and we headed for the run where we could hear the chickens cackling and clucking in distress. There was a huge old willow tree growing near the run and after shining the torch around in the tree we finally picked up the reflective eyes of the wildcat. I was manning the torch and Arthur did the shooting.

Trying to shoot a wildcat high up in a tree at night with a revolver when you cannot see the gun sights is an almost impossible task but Arthur just kept on shooting, maybe hoping for a lucky shot. We had almost run out of ammunition when our older cousin Howard, who lived nearby, arrived with an impi of his men and armed with a shotgun. He had heard the continuous gunfire and feared that we might be under some form of attack. When we explained the situation he killed the cat with one shot and, after quietly informing us of his opinion of our dubious level of intelligence and comparing us, unfavourably, to the baboons that had begun barking up in the mountain, probably awoken by the gunshots, he left. I don’t think being called out on a wild goose chase endeared us to him to a great extent."

Kevin Daniel is left behind on the 'Vubu sandbar:

Louis Smit, son of Andy Smit, proprietor of Whittaker’s Store, tells an amusing story of an escapade out to sea and coming back through the river mouth.  This story is told here verbatim, as this is part of its appeal.  The words in italics should be read in Afrikaans. 

“Dave Banks, my brother-in-law, had a boat and we went out to sea to do some fishing. Kevin (Daniel) and I went out, with Dave as the skipper.  It was high tide when we went out through the river mouth but we didn’t catch anything, hell, so we decided to go back; the sharks were taking all our bait.  We got back to the river mouth, but it was low tide by then, but we got stuck on a sand bank in the middle of the blerrie mouth, hey.  Kevin and myself were overboard, pushing the boat off the sandbar, Dave was driving the boat when he suddenly reached deeper water and shouted ‘Jump on!’ I got on but God, we left Kevin behind – in that shark-infested blerrie Umzimvubu!  Poor Kevin! I was shouting ‘Dave, Dave, stop!’ Kevin just about walked across the water to get to the boat hey!!  You don’t want to be left behind in that water.

            Kevin and I talked about it just recently when I saw him.  It happened in 1981, and he said to me just the other day ‘Do you remember that time I got left behind by the ski boat?’

We refused to go out to sea with Dave again after that.  He got other poephols to go out to sea with him.  Dave wasn't the best skipper!"

Same incident but a completely different memory.  This is Kevin's response to the story:

"Louis Smit seems to have conveniently forgotten earlier that day out at sea when yours truly was dispatched to the front of the boat to throw the anchor out. We were sitting an Easterly chop, short, sharp and frequent waves making things very uncomfortable. I reached into the hatch, and pulled out a massive bunch-up of anchor rope. I managed to unravel enough to tie onto another boat instead of dropping anchor, and on that crazy sea, our boat would drift to one side, then it would snap around and drift the other way.  As the boat did this, it sent me off into the sea, still clutching the bunch of remaining rope. That was a frightening experience, and the rope held me alongside the boat, and both Dave and Louis both rushed to the side to pull me back in, and nearly capsized the boat. 

The boat up ahead undid the rope and we headed back to the shallow river mouth, where the second disaster took place in that chocolate brown water. (That's why Dave couldn't see the sandbank).  The boat lay on one side, Louis conveniently on the lower side, which is why he got back on so quickly.  I was hanging off the other side, feet not even touching at times. 

That didn't stop us crewing out to sea, but both of us either had a golfing commitment or the surf was pumping whenever Dave suggested we go deep sea fishing again with him. Dave eventually sold the boat."

Memories:

“I have kept all those memories alive and told my kids (all six of them) how one day I would take them back to Port St Johns to see how growing up should be.” 
(Pierre Malan, son of Lorrie Malan, who owned and ran the Central Bakery in the 1960's and 1970's)

Sunrise over the River Mouth, Port St Johns 2013 * Photo taken by and reproduced with permission from Dale Clendennen. See her Facebook page: South Africa My Best

"I often think of those days in Port St Johns, how carefree they were.  We LIVED, had fun, were happy, and all with no booze or drugs.  I do hope lots of people will contact you and that we can read the stories of those days." (Shirley Eayrs Smith, daughter of James Eayrs, baker in the 1950's)

 

“I have on numerous occasions wanted to document my early experiences of growing up in Port St Johns, playing cricket in the town, my boarding school experience, living on Retreat Farm up on the west bank of the river, and the beautiful memories of the simple basic things that I did with my little friends, the children of 'Pikinin', the manager on Dad's farm.  I had intentions collecting my memories, but never got around to doing so.  This is the inspiration to do it."  (Desmond Daniel, ex-Port St Johns resident and national cricketer)

Sunrise over the River Mouth, Port St Johns 2013 * Photo taken by and reproduced with permission from Dale Clendennen.  See her Facebook page: South Africa My Best