Discount Hotels Rooms - A Great Solution For Minimizing Travel Budget

!±8± Discount Hotels Rooms - A Great Solution For Minimizing Travel Budget

Budget friendly discount hotels rooms are the ultimate choice for the travelers. Traveling requires huge expenditure on lodging and traveling fare. And also these are the two main expenditures which you cannot ignore. But traveling to a particular place during holiday includes lots of other interesting things to do. Visiting to attractive destinations and experiencing them is also among those exciting schedule programs of holiday tour. It will be wise enough if you save money for shopping and dinning. There are a variety of new things to shop and various cuisines of the region to taste. So, keeping in mind the over all expenditure of your travel destination you have to make a planned budget.

To remain within your budget it is advisable to opt for discount hotels rooms. Such hotel rooms are easily affordable and quite good for long term staying. The notion that discount hotels rooms are unclean and uncomfortable to stay are totally false statement. There are first class hotels that provide discount during the off seasons and to attract the visitors. Such motels of discount rates are nice and comfortable place to stay. So keep your eyes and ears widely open to know about the hotel locations and its discount prices.

Internet can be a great helper while finding discount hotels rooms for most of the time online booking offer discount price by the chain of the hotels. Make some research work on discount hotels rooms and it will definitely lead you to select among varied many discount hotels rooms. Have the greatest comfort on minimum expenditure and let your holiday be the memorable stay at one of the discount hotels room. The hotel facilities include all the basic requirements of a modern day traveler or fortunately the travelers may get more facilities than what they usually expect.

However, it will be good if you stay alert regarding booking discount hotels rooms. Only after the proper enquires one should go for such hotels because sometimes there is every possibility that you can be cheated by the false promises of facilities of such motels. Have some patience and then after confirmation of all possible information of the hotel, select the discount hotels rooms.

Take help from travel agents or discount hotels room's dealers in order to get the hotel room book in a hurried manner. So you do not require wasting precious time and energy in searching discount hotels rooms for it is available just a few clicks away.

Discount Hotels Rooms - A Great Solution For Minimizing Travel Budget

Best Buy Discount Kelty Backpacks Nike Sb Dunk High Bloody Gums This Instant

Driving the Nullarbor in a 2-door Coupe

!±8± Driving the Nullarbor in a 2-door Coupe

Friends expressed concern for Anita Ryan's safety across the Nullarbor Plain from Perth to Sydney (Australia). A single female travelling solo may be a magnet to the rugged men of the desert, they said. Anita recorded her journey for posterity, or a first-hand obituary should the worst happen.

PART ONE

Heading south from Perth, I stopped at Bunbury to swim with wild dolphins in Koombana Bay. The Dolphin Discovery Centre supplied the wetsuit, but swimming with these magnificent creatures made me forget the cold. I even forgot my own name, which was tragic seeing as I was the only company I had hereon in - apart from infinitely annoying commercial radio.

My senses still buzzing, I drove inland through the salt-bed of Lake Grace, turning south again at Lake King. Here I passed a sign welcoming me to the outback, and began to notice other drivers waving at me. It took a while to realise they weren't waving off the abundance of flies, they were simply being courteous country drivers.

After eight hours of driving since Perth, I arrived in Esperance - a town so pretty I quickly forgave it for placing its entrance through the industrial area. Fortunately I arrived in time to drive the 45-minute Pink Lake circuit to see (you guessed it) the pink lake.

The circuit runs past Australia's first wind farm at Salmon Beach, then meanders onwards past the stunning Bluehaven and Twilight Beaches. Luckily the speed limit is 60 km/h - the view is so amazing who wants to watch the road?

I took my time following it past 9 Mile Beach, 10 Mile Lagoon and 11 Mile Resort (no, I'm not joking, those really are the names of the beaches). Relaxing at Pink Lake I hung around for the sunset to see if the lake gets any pinker. It didn't.

I found accommodation easily, choosing a Bed and Breakfast a block from the jetty. For dinner I headed off to Esperance's 30-year institution: Beryl's Eats - a mobile burger van on the Jetty foreshore. Then I did what every local does... I sat between the fishermen on the jetty, ate half the burger and threw the rest to the sea-lions playing under the jetty pylons.

On Day Two I awoke to breakfast served on Wedgewood china and advice to wear my hair down - "The police are young dear," my host smiled.

I set off with bouncing hair and high spirits despite having to give up my plan to travel further east along the Cape le Grande. Arguably it is Australia's most stunning coastline, but with 4WD-only access it was an invitation for disaster for my two-door coupe.

Instead I headed north to Norseman - the last town before setting forth across the Nullarbor.

Norseman is named after an old horse who crossed the Nullarbor and founded the town. The story got me to wondering if the town is therefore made up of stallions and nags.

Barely ten minutes onto the Eyre Highway that would take me approximately 1200 kilometres without having to turn a corner, I passed my first casualty. A pop-top caravan that had popped its top. It was a timely reminder that I was embarking on a serious journey and my job was to stay alive to enjoy it.

Barely two hours later I whizzed past the Belladonia roadhouse. That's when I realised the dots on the map aren't towns, but roadhouses. Thankfully for the recalcitrant traveller like me (sans jerry can and camping gear), the roadhouses are usually no more than two hours apart and have fuel and accommodation facilities. However, unfortunately for the recalcitrant traveller like me (sans drinking water) showers can cost a dollar a minute and attendants laugh at requests for fresh water.

Outnumbering roadhouses by, oh, a million to one, was road kill. This was proof positive of the road signs warning the presence of kangaroos, emus and camels. Camels? Yes, apparently so, although I didn't see any. I only saw dozens of kangaroos and emus, and needless to say treated them with enormous respect.

One emu particularly impressed me when he crossed the highway at what looked like a pedestrian crossing. I learned later that the white stripes are markers for an emergency landing strip for the Royal Flying Doctor Service. So now I was watching out for kangaroos, emus, camels and aeroplanes.

At around the halfway point of my day's driving, I hit the start of Australia's longest straight road. On the map it's called the 90 Mile Highway, but I think that's because it was built in the time of imperial measurement. Besides, "144 Kilometre Road" doesn't have the same ring to it.

Another hour on and the countryside started resembling a Leunig cartoon. A barren landscape with only a scraggy tree to break the horizon.

The road kill was now competing for space amongst an amazing array of inanimate objects such as blown tyres, half a ute, a boat rudder, and a yellow Hi-Ace converted to a message board: "Hi Pam and kids, I saw a yowie." And I thought they were only found near cash registers.

Despite the barrenness of the terrain, it is exquisitely beautiful, especially when viewed from the Madura Pass lookout another two hours on. I almost got out of the car to take a photo, but the heat outside melted my lip-gloss.

The Madura Pass marked the start of a rounded hill so long and unvarying I imagine that from the air it must look like a giant carpet snake. It stretches all the way to Eucla, 200 kilometres on.

A huge white Christians' cross overlooks the highway on approach to Eucla. After ten hours in the car, I was so delighted to see it I almost converted. I didn't, but it was a narrow escape.

Upon arriving at the biggest roadhouse on the Eyre Highway, I did some stretches to activate my leg muscles again and headed straight to the bistro for some hot food and cold beer.

A very cheerful waitress told me about the menu: "oh we have both kinds - chicken AND beef!"

"How about wine-by-the-glass?" I ask.

"Oh, the best cask wine money can buy!"

I really love their enthusiasm - we were, after all, in the middle of very harsh terrain miles from bountiful fresh water and internet connections, and these girls can still smile.

I then went to book a room, but the motel was booked out. (And it wasn't even school holidays!) I had no option but to take a rudimentary cabin in the caravan park. It was comfortable enough, but the constant stream of people flip-flopping past my door to the amenities block had me cursing the double-plugger. Just as I thought it was safe to go to sleep, at 3am, I was woken by my neighbour's alarm through the thin walls. This is not unusual, except that it was his mobile phone, and it was set to vibrate.

From then on, the sounds of travellers hitting the road filled the air, and I found it impossible to get back to sleep.

Tired and cranky at the start of my third day, I took a gentle trip to the Old Telegraph Station 4km south of the Eucla establishment. Seeing how remote and rugged our settlers would have had it made me count my blessings, and I pointed my car east in a much better mood.

Minutes later, I stopped again. I'd reached the Western Australian and South Australian border and there were roadblocks while guards searched the cars for fruit and vegetable matter. I ate all the fruit I could then surrendered the rest, along with a Margaret River grapevine cutting that was to be a gift for my brother.

Sadly, border guards weren't forthcoming with hot coffee to accompany my breakfast, even despite fluttering eye-lashes and a threat to put my hair down.

Never mind. For the next 180 kilometres I was to be treated to the most stunning coastline I could imagine.

Innocuous "Photo Opportunity" signs dotted along the road pointed to car parks 600m towards the coast, and every single one was worth the detour.

There is no railing along the cliff edges; so be careful you don't get blown off. Furthermore, if you suffer from vertigo, go with a friend - they can hold onto you and stop you from jumping off. The water is so stunning and clear, it really entered my mind as a good thing to fly off the edge. I don't know how far down it is, but I sensibly dragged myself away before I could find out.

Two hours later I entered what I came to refer to as the "zone" - the Nullarbor Treeless Plain.

Lightly vegetated, the land is an incredible desert wilderness, its wild beauty offering an hour of spiritual space. As it melded into the National Park and then the Yalata Aboriginal Land, I was so moved I decided to create a mobile Nullarbor Disco as a gesture of gratitude. I sang the only song I know about "rain" in an effort to influence the Universe to nourish the spattering of trees, although I'm not quite sure what the trees would do if it really did start raining men.

Emerging from the "zone", I felt a real sense of loss as I encountered commercial signage advertising crafts and email. Ah, civilisation. I use the term very loosely mind you - my senses were assaulted with the sight of cleared land that looked brutalised after the untamed beauty of the desert. I didn't enjoy this section and, for the first time in this whole adventure, I felt tired while driving.

Even though I thought it was mid afternoon, I had missed a time-zone change, and it was now in fact late afternoon. Luckily, Ceduna was only another 30 minutes down the road. The time lag combined with the deflation from re-entering civilisation had taken its toll. I fell into bed after gorging on Smoky Bay oysters, and this time slept like a baby. (No, I didn't wake every two hours with a pooey nappy screaming for bosoms. I mean, I slept well.)

By my fourth day, I'd just about had enough. I was starting to suffer from Rrrrr Disease - named after the sound of the relentless hum of tyres on the road that permeates every waking thought. I took a shortcut across a desolate wasteland across the top of the Eyre Peninsula to Port Augusta, but it was a hard slog. Only one town, Kimba, made an effort to welcome tourists, reminding them that they were now "half way across Australia."

The best thing to happen to me this day, was a serendipitous diversion via the southern Flinders Ranges. After the monotony of the dead straight roads, it was delightful to be able to steer again and I vowed to never take a curvy road for granted after this. The inland road wove its way south through picturesque historic towns and via the Clare Valley wine region.

I headed straight for my favourite Clare winery, only to discover they had shut early. This disappointment triggered a weariness so profound I fell onto the grass and sooked. By now I was completely sun-smacked, road-wrecked, wave-whacked, white-lined, sign-swiped and travel thick. The thought of getting back into the car sent me into a panic, and it was only the patient coaxing of a friend by mobile phone that convinced me to get back into the saddle to drive the last hour to Adelaide, which I did, only it took me two hours including the periodic roadside rests to settle the nerves.

After mopping up my dribble, I went to bed looking for sleep. Unfortunately, the perplexing question of "Where was the rabbit proof fence?" kept me awake, until I looked it up on a map only to find it several hundred kilometres north of where I'd been driving. Ooops. Just goes to show how good I am with maps - I'm probably quite lucky to have even found Adelaide!

Even so, the fact that I'd got this far safely was enough to say a heartfelt "thank-you" to my guardian angel.

PART TWO

For Part Two of this article: 'How Long to Howlong', and 'Tips for Travellers' go to http://www.goddess.com.au/Writer/Articles/Nullarbor.htm

Driving the Nullarbor in a 2-door Coupe

Bose 901 Speaker Save You Money! Prohair Extensions Reviews Cheep Cuisinart Fp14dc

California Dreaming on Highway One from San Francisco to Los Angeles

!±8± California Dreaming on Highway One from San Francisco to Los Angeles

As a teenager in the mid-sixties I was greatly inspired by the music of the Beach Boys. One balmy evening during the summer of 1964 I was stirred by the driving tempo of I Get Around by a group I'd never heard of blasting from the huge old bakelite valve-driven radio that dominated my bedroom. It was during those times when, against the British government's wishes, every teenager was tuned to Radio Caroline, broadcasting illegally from an old coaster moored somewhere out on the North Sea. I'd heard nothing like this before. It was certainly beyond the play lists of Auntie BBC and her tedious Home Service! I was hooked, not only to the vibrant, close harmonies and falsettos of the vocals but by the very images the lyrics portrayed of sun, sand, striped-shirt freedom and long=legged bikini clad girls. Flower power, love-ins, peace movements and the whole Haight-Asbury thing followed. Then, in 1969, Pirelli published their highly collectible California calendar, containing evocative close-up images by photographer Harry Peccinotti of beautiful sun tanned Californian maidens. By modern standards the photographs were very tame, more like snapshots. Nevertheless that calendar re-enforced a yearning to visit California because it seemed the best place on earth. My vision was of stunning blond California girls, a youth culture driving Chevrolet Corvette Stingrays and a wild freedom that seemed unknown to teenaged Britain.

For various reasons, ok I'll be honest ... a lack of funds, forced me to wait a decade before I managed to realize my dream and by this time LA, Carmel, Santa Monica, Santa Cruz and San Francisco had become household names through the lyrics of a continuous stream of hit songs by The Beach Boys, Eagles, Jan and Dean and The Mamas and Papas, California Dreaming really had become something of a reality. By the time I arrived in the City of Angels aboard a TWA westbound seven-forty-seven and things were every bit as I imagined. Once bitten, I was smitten and vowed to return as soon as I could. But it took more than twenty years, but with the love affair still intact, I was going back. Maybe I'd become an ageing hippie still listening to those melodic surfin' sounds that had continued to drive my mind through all of these years. Previously I'd flown from San Francisco to LA this time I was going to do things for real by driving the Pacific route between the two largest cities along California State Highway One.

Despite claims that the USA lacks culture, nobody can deny that what it does have is scenery ... huge, mind blowing scenery such as Yosemite, the Grand Canyon and Zabriski Point. California's Pacific coast similarly does not go begging. It is where nature competes with itself for superiority along rugged cliff tops that rise and fall against the might of the great ocean; mist encrusted mountains against mighty sequoia forests. The Pacific is everything the Atlantic lacks. It can be wilder, more belligerent; the breakers tend to roll higher making it, sometimes a surfer's paradise, at others a seafarer's grave. California, despite an element of confident brashness, has always appealed more for its natural untamed beauty than say the tourism evoked retirement condominiums of Florida on America's opposite coast.

Many claim that Highway One is best tackled north to south. Route One really beings at Legett where the road clings tightly to the ocean for nearly 150 salt splashed miles as it passes close to the giant redwoods at Muir Woods before becoming US 101, the Golden Gate freeway, and crossing the magnificent, often fog enshrined, bridge of the same name. Most don't bother with the first part, choosing to join the route at San Francisco and continuing at a gentile pace with a stop or two before reaching the congestion rush of greater Los Angeles. If you're in a hurry, then the 400 mile drive can comfortably be made in a day although there's little point in missing the enormous potential it offers. It's best to stop and linger a while if you can. The West Coast can be chilly, often hemmed in by coastal fogs held in by the mountains, despite this you'll still feel at one with the elements and it's best driven in an open-top sports car. I didn't but, but should have and I regret that I didn't!

San Francisco is a beautiful city of over six million and a delicate charm of its own, especially where the palatial Victorian homes have survived a series of earthquakes. There's Lombard Street, short but steep, rising 27 degrees through a series of eight hairpins that twist and turn forcing a cars to proceed at a snail's pace. Some of the main streets reach 300 feet at Pacific Heights before dropping through amazing gradients to the Marina District below. As you top each crest you'll be transformed and in your minds-eye you are Steve McQueen playing Bullitt flooring the accelerator of that throaty Shelby-Mustang and bouncing over those bumps at breathtaking speed as you fight to tame this out-of-control beast. In reality you'll take it slow, real slow, fearing the consequences should your brakes fail! A more sober way is to take the cable car from Nob Hill to the Bay and watch the floor show performed by the driver and his agile grip man as they work together to traverse the undulating tarmac. These days the cable cars are usually packed with tourists and it can be hard to get a ride.

Once more in the real world I start my journey at Fisherman's Wharf, the trendy waterside area of good fish restaurants, a waxworks and tourist shops that compete with a fine view of the Bay. Alcatraz Island, the former penal establishment that is now a crumbling State Museum, stands formidably in turbulent waters three miles east of the Golden Gate. This, for seventeen years, was the home of Robert Stroud the infamous Bird Man but he was never the gentile ornithologist Bert Lancaster portrayed. It was also where Al Capone was finally caged up for, of all things, tax evasion.

Leaving behind the squawking sea lions feeding off restaurant scraps at one of the piers, I head south leaving the city behind, past San Francisco International Airport and some of the wealthy outlying suburbs. The car radio informs me that "It's going to be a fine day right across the whole of the Bay Area and there are no reported traffic snarl ups". That's good to hear because only weeks before floods had caused landslides that were still keeping the coast road closed until twenty miles south at Half Moon Bay. Between here and Ano Nuevo lie a number of State beaches renowned for their outstanding natural beauty. This is where the northern elephant seals and sea lions come to breed or just to wallow lazily in the sun. This was March however and the beaches were deserted.

For much of the way the route is a two-lane blacktop ... no dual carriageway, just a well maintained twin-lane tarmac highway that clings heroically around the cliff tops that tower and fall above the Ocean. I am surprised at so little traffic, most of the locals preferring to take highway 101, a faster route that meanders on an almost parallel inland course for most of the way. Better still I haven't seen a single cop. But beware, I am told they patrol from low flying helicopters (bears in the air) so I watch my speed and although I try to keep to a steady 55mph my instincts push me to go ever faster.

The highway runs via Pescadero where there is a lighthouse built in 1872, then onward to the seaside resort of Santa Cruz on the northern point of Monterey Bay. A further 28 miles south around the coast and I reach the old Spanish town and former Californian capital. Monterey, a town made famous by John Steinbeck in his novels Cannery Row and Tortilla Flat. The old sardine canneries are now long closed but the buildings have been transformed into trendy shops and restaurants. There is also an excellent aquarium. Beyond the beach, in waters stretching 110 miles out to sea is the Monterey National Marine Sanctuary, containing the largest underwater cavern anywhere in offshore US.

I didn't have sufficient time to take the 17 mile drive but if you do it starts just south at Pacific Grove, ends at Carmel and passes the world class golf courses at Pebble Beach and Spyglass Hill. Although you pay for the privilege, those that have taken the detour say that the beauty of the drive, much of it man-made, is exceptional. Instead, I remain on Highway One and head for Carmel, home of Clint Eastwood, aka Dirty Harry and the former mayor. He wasn't about. At least he wasn't driving the West Coast. The city dates back to 1770 when a Franciscan monk, Father Juniperro Serra built a mission and church. Although it fell into disrepair after being abandoned in 1834, the Mission, one of several along the coast, has been carefully restored.

South of Carmel is a truly wonderful stretch of coastline that runs almost a 100 miles below the Ventana Wilderness, part of the Los Padres National Forest. This is Big Sur, a mood-inspiring rocky, wild area of State Parks and exceptional natural beauty. I Linger for a while just listening to the breakers crashing against the rocks before continuing, crossing the Bixby Creek Bridge, once the world's longest single-arch span at 550 feet. This was built in 1932 two years after the Highway was opened at Big Sur. In 1983 storms here swept much of the highway away forcing it to close for over a year.

At San Simeon there is a wooden pier on a rugged shale beach. I decide to stay the night at a reasonably priced motel. In the hills above the highway is Hearst Castle, a stately palace folly created from treasures imported from all over the world by newspaper magnate, William Randolph Hearst and bequeathed to the state of California in 1958. Visitors must park at the tourist center and be transported by buses up a long, winding hilltop drive to reach the surrealistic Castle. The creation reputedly cost million to build but it is very much a statement of bad taste, nevertheless it's sure to impress.

Just south of San Simeon is the artist's colony of Cambria. It is also a weekend retreat for those wishing to escape the heavy yellow smogs of LA. Next, Morro Bay where the chimneys of the PG & E power station are the singular blot on the landscape of the entire route The road turns inland here around a sand spit and causeway that leads to a huge extinct Volcano known as Morro Rock. Soon I reach the halfway point between San Francisco and LA at San Luis Obispo where there is another mission. Now highway one unites with 101 for a brief stretch until Pismo, a 20 mile stretch of wide, sandy beaches.

The beautifully kept Spanish colonial style terracotta roofed houses and picturesque clean streets of Santa Barbara make it, for me, one of the loveliest small cities anywhere. Following the earthquake in 1925, the city was rebuilt in the adobe fashion and the buildings are now preserved by law but this didn't stop nature from coming perilously close to covering some of the dwellings in mud washed down from by the floods from the surrounding hills. The high street is full of interesting shops, excellent, but expensive, restaurants and a wonderful book shop where I enjoyed a coffee and a muffin while browsing the shelves. There is a prosperous, relaxed air to Santa Barbara and I can see why the city has attracted so many Hollywood stars who have come to build their homes in the exclusive hills above the city.

The last leg of my journey takes me through Ventura and on to Santa Monica Bay. At the northern end is Malibu, where a long, wide stretch of state beach is exclusive to surfers (no swimming allowed). At Malibu Colony, another place favoured by the famous names of Hollywood, the lavish mansions line the shoreline but there is no public access to beach. In the hills above, the J Paul Getty museum claims to house some of the finest art in the world.

Santa Monica, a lively resort on the fringes of Los Angeles is the setting for Bay Watch. The city sits atop a cliff overlooking the beach and separated by a palm lined strip known as Pallisades Park. From here there are fantastic views of the Bay especially at sunset. My time however does not allow me to linger. As highway one turns inland away from the Pacific Coast cities of Venice, Marina Del Ray (where Beach Boy drummer Dennis Wilson drowned in 1983) and Long Beach before rejoining the ocean at Seal Beach, I bid a fond farewell. A short distance away my journey takes me to LAX and my flight home. As my jet climbs above the twinkling lights of Beverley Hills I reflect on my memories of this trip and in those famous words of Arnold Schwarzeineger I swear "I'll be back".

California Dreaming on Highway One from San Francisco to Los Angeles

Cheap Rocketfish Wall Mount Good Gerber Lmf Asek Coupon Bimatoprost Generic

Cape Town - A Look at Africa's Most Beautiful City

!±8± Cape Town - A Look at Africa's Most Beautiful City

As winter approaches in the northern hemisphere, summer beckons in the south. This is the time to take a few days off and follow the sun! The best place to catch the sun in the end of year holiday season is without doubt Cape Town. Cape Town's claim to being the most beautiful city in South Africa is undisputed. And seasoned travel writers readily accept the merit of Cape Town's claim that is indeed one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

The city is blessed with unrivalled gifts of nature. The mighty kilometer high flat top Table Mountain dwarfs even the most ambitious skyscrapers in the business district. The city is surrounded by glorious landscapes, stunning beaches and a bounty of unique vegetation. Where else do you have a choice of the cool Atlantic Ocean and the warmer Indian Ocean?

But Cape Town offers much more. It is reputed to be the most open-minded and relaxed city in South Africa and is one of the safest cities in Africa for visitors. Action hero Jean-Claude Van Damme visited the city in 2003 to shoot an action thriller and declared: "I love waking up in this city with the sea around me and the fresh air. The people are young with fresh and warm personalities and are friendly and it's a country full of hope."

The movie was shot in the city and around the harbour and some local funs got to see Van Damme at the waterfront. This is the same country that has produced some of the most inspiring people of our times. Desmond Tutu - the Nobel Peace Prize winner and past leader of the Anglican flock in Cape Town, for example. And of course Nelson Mandela.

Take a boat trip to Robben Island, one of the hottest destinations for overseas visitors. This is where Nelson Mandela nearly lost his sight quarrying lime during his long imprisonment. Make sure to get to the summit of Table Mountain by cable where you will enjoy some unforgettable views.

Northwards of the city center is the Victoria and Albert waterfront- a trendy shopping and entertainment complex. It is packed with art galleries, art and craft shops, restaurants, taverns, cinemas, theatres and an aquarium. It is easy to see why many beautiful people converge here. It is when in Cape Town that you will understand why Desmond Tutu named the country as the "Rainbow Nation". The peoples here have roots in the four corners of the planet and together give the city its vivid colours.

Cape Town is well connected to one of the most popular travel destinations in South Africa: the Garden Route. The Garden Route is the southern coastal area starting west of Cape Town at Swellendam and ending at Humansdorp just before Port Elizabeth. The Garden Route is probably the most scenic journey you will ever make. You encounter soaring cliffs, wide beaches, semi desert, rocky coves, rain forests, tranquil lakes and rugged mountains.

The area is good for watersports and the weather allows this year round. A visit to the wine producing regions can also be staged from Cape Town. If you are short of time, head for picturesque Stellenbosch just a 45-minute drive away.

The Garden Route tour usually starts from Cape Town with a stop at Mossel Bay. This otherwise uninspiring town is famous for its Post Office Tree, where sailors would leave letters hanging in a boot to be picked up by those headed towards the country where the letters were addressed. Then to Oudtshoorn and George, a transport hub for the area.

Afterwards, Wilderness National Park a good place for birding and canoeing on your way to the artist colony of Knysna and Plettenberg Bay. Plettenberg Bay, the "millionaires' playground" is South Africa's trendiest resort. Then to Tsitsikamma National Park known for its nature trails, giant trees and caves. A little ahead of Humansdorp is Jeffrey's Bay, reputed to have one of the world's best surfing beaches.

Water sports are big in South Africa. Whale watching and shark-cage diving (with great white sharks) is possible in the Cape area. The best time to spot these sea giants is from June to September. In the last week of September the annual Whale Festival is held at Walker Bay. Diving facilities are good in the area and wreck diving in particular is widespread around the Cape. For fishing enthusiasts, the Cape of Good Hope has one the world's richest fishing grounds.

At the confluence of the Atlantic and Indian Ocean currents is to be found large shoals of tuna and swordfish. For those brave souls seeking hair-raising adventure, there is an excellent opportunity for bungee jumping at the bridge over Blaukrans River. This has one of the world's highest drops.

There are also many beautiful golf courses in the Cape Town and Garden Route area. The best time to play is the cooler months of May to September. The President's Cup of 2003 was held at the Fancourt Hotel and Country Club at George right on the Garden Route. This event is a match play competition with the world's best international players.

The best period to visit the Cape region is over the summer months November-February. The rest of the year is usually cool, rainy and windy. Most people then find it quite challenging to engage in swimming and water sports. There is a wide range of hotels in Cape Town and the Garden Route area. Top range 5 star hotels and other rated hotels are found throughout the region.

Other accommodation options include motels, guesthouses, bed and breakfasts, farm holidays, beach cottages, holiday flats and bungalows. The Cape region is now a much sought after destination and advance booking is necessary during the summer season (October-April). With prior planning it is possible to get good value and affordable holiday stay.

Copyright © Africa Point

Cape Town - A Look at Africa's Most Beautiful City

Century Wavemaster Sale Off Rosette Quilt On Sale Corioliss Hair Dryer Buy