South Africa: Cape Town and the Garden Route by car

The first thing Cape Town does to you is make you look up. You step out of the airport, the wind hits you, and there it is on the horizon — Table Mountain, flat as a tabletop, with that famous cloth of cloud spilling over the edge. I'd seen a hundred photos. None of them prepared me for how the whole city just leans against it, like the mountain is keeping an eye on everyone.

I came for the obvious mix: a few days in the city, a road trip down the Garden Route, and a quick nod to the bush before flying home. Surf in the morning, vineyards in the afternoon, and somewhere in between the kind of landscapes that make you pull over every ten minutes. South Africa packs a lot into one trip, and it does it with the steering wheel on the right and the road on the left — so give yourself a beat to adjust.

Cape Town, mountain and ocean

I did Table Mountain the lazy way the first morning — the rotating cable car — then earned it on foot another day up Platteklip Gorge, which is exactly as steep as people warn you. Up top, you walk a ridge with the whole peninsula laid out: the city on one side, the Atlantic on the other, and Robben Island a small grey smudge in the bay. Down at sea level, I drove out to the Cape of Good Hope, where two oceans argue and the wind tries to take your hat to Antarctica.

Connectivity in and around Cape Town was honestly a non-issue — 4G held up fine in the city, along the coastal roads of Chapman's Peak, even at the lookouts. I had data the whole way, which mattered because in South Africa you lean on your maps app a lot. Just a heads-up: this is not the EU, so the roam-like-at-home rule your European plan gives you back home does not apply here. You sort out data on purpose, before you go.

« Two oceans, one mountain, and a road that keeps asking you to stop. »

The Garden Route, at car speed

Then the good part: the keys, a full tank, and the N2 heading east. The Garden Route runs roughly from Mossel Bay to Storms River, and it's a greatest-hits reel of coastline, forest and lagoon. I stopped in Wilderness for a walk along the lakes, in Knysna for oysters by the lagoon, and at Tsitsikamma where the suspension bridge swings over the river mouth and the indigenous forest feels prehistoric. Distances are friendly — most legs are an hour or two — so you drive in daylight, take the long way, and never rush.

I won't pretend the signal is flawless once you're between towns. In the villages and along the main road it was solid; on a couple of forest detours and quieter stretches it thinned out or dropped. That's normal, and frankly part of the charm — but it's why I download my offline maps the night before, screenshot my bookings, and stop trusting that a network will always be there. When it was there, it was great: I rebooked a guesthouse on the fly and sent my brother a video of a pod of dolphins off Plettenberg Bay because some things can't wait.

Vineyards and a wink at the bush

On the way back I peeled off into the Cape Winelands — Stellenbosch and Franschhoek, all whitewashed gables and oak-lined lanes — and spent an afternoon tasting wines I absolutely could not pronounce, with the designated driver staying noble and sober. If you've got the time and the budget, a few days up at Kruger (or a private reserve nearby) close the loop perfectly: dawn drives, dust, and that silence before the animals wake up. Out in the reserve the coverage gets patchier — expect dead zones between camps — so lower your expectations, enjoy being unreachable, and catch up when you're back at the lodge.

One honest word on the cities: keep your wits about you, like you would in any big city. Don't flash your phone on a quiet street, use a ride app rather than wandering at night, and stick to the busy, well-lit areas after dark. Nothing dramatic — just basic, boring common sense that lets you relax the rest of the time.

What I take away

South Africa gave me the rare combo: a city with a mountain in its lap, a coast road that rewards the slow lane, vineyards, and just enough wild to remember how big the world is. Strong signal where it counted, honest blank spots where the map goes green and empty — and that, to me, is the sign of a proper road trip.

— Yann, salt in my hair, somewhere on the coast road.