One final roll of the tent, one last throwing of the rucksack onto the truck and we were off to Johannesburg, not before taking a picture of the outdoor toilet and pitchfork gate. One of the better African toilets we'd encountered. Elton cooked scrambled eggs, beans, and toast for us - great grub to recover from the night before.

Going through the South African border was uneventful; we even used hand dryers in the toilets! How swish the toilets become as you move south.

Onto the truck for our final drive, we arrived in Johannesburg at about 4, but somehow failed to find the hostel for another hour as we drove slowly, but with double-checked locked doors, around the streets. There were swarms of people, not one of them white as we searched for the Backpackers' Ritz. I'm not too sure how Mum and Dad lived out here, even if it was thirty years ago!

We arrived at our compound-like hostel to the sound of electric fences and numerous bells to ring before we could actually enter, nothing like lots of security to make you feel the most nervous you've ever felt.

Elton had done us proud again by popping to the supermarket to buy food for a braai. We stoked the coals and cooked boerewors, corn-on-the-cobs, jacket potatoes, and bread rolls overlooking the Johannesburg skyline. It wasn't quite as intimidating from up there.

We were given our room keys, or rather everyone else was, as I'd not upgraded to a private room and so entered the twelve-bed dorm with the cistern in the toilet ever running. No lockers were available, so my valuables stayed in my sleeping bag, little did I know this was the taste of things to come.