Yesterday was supposed to be easy. I had only 350 kilometers, sailing on tar roads from East London to Coffee Bay. I was even looking forward to the last quarter of the way which I had been warned was in bad condition and full of potholes. It seemed to me it would be a nice break from the mundane highway. I drove slowly, through green rolling hills dotted with colorful thatched-roof houses, taking my time and stopping for photographs.

At a gas station on the way I met Yansi, who happened to own a backpackers in Coffee Bay. We chatted a bit and then parted ways. I rode on, left the N2, the national highway and started heading towards the coast into Xhosa territory. After about 50 kilometers I turned a bend in the road and came upon a large number of police vehicles stopping the traffic. Across from us on another hilltop, about 600…