Here we are in Cape Town, with a photo of the view from Adrian and Rentia’s lovely home. We’re attempting the task of legalizing the Beagle at the Vehicle Dept. The line stretches across eight rows of the world’s most uncomfortable chairs in a fan-cooled room filled with people who thought the process would be quick. Or at least not last 2.5 hours. People range from the resigned to the mildly annoyed, to the downright hostile person who doesn’t  understand how Jim could move to the head of the line on the second day. Yes, the second day. He has a get-out-of-jail-free card, coming back after having to collect yet one more document. And then we were legal.

Back at Adrian and Rentia’s, the Beagle is getting a make-over. It could be driven off without taking the time, but having some things taken away and others added will make for smoother camping. The kitchen in particular needs help. Designed by great big Afrikaans men who likely don’t spend a lot of time in that section, and for whom chicken is just another vegetable, it was created to look good in the showroom.  A man could convince his wife to overland by showing her how neatly the coffee cups were stored – and it did look neat. We trash it heavily anyway. We know what we want, up to a point, but the only way to be sure is to go camping in it. So off we go, after a week of outfitting, down the coast.

Camping without reservations or even an idea of where we will wind up in the evening, takes a bit of getting used to. Recommendations from expert guide and South African native Adrian are a great starting point. Like any good trip though, the plan dissolves and seat-of-pants navigation takes over. Looking at the paper map we ponder what might be a good stopping spot and we wing it when we get there. This is not a situation for the challenged marriage. Not only do you have to trust the navigator and the map, you have to trust each other. There is a commitment to overlanding that goes well beyond seeing Africa. And so far, so good.