COLUMN: ESMA MARNEWICK

Can you travel with a baby? Of course you can. The question is whether you’ll actually enjoy your holiday! Esma Marnewick remembers a few trying trips.

“When your kids outgrow the carrier, the real test of parenthood begins: to get them to walk a far-ish distance on their own. It took kilometres of coaxing, motivating, begging and blackmailing.”

Travelling with an infant brings many challenges. Feeding is one of them. A deserted filling station in Keetmanshoop, a back street in Vanrhynsdorp, a farm road near Malmesbury… These are just some of the unusual places I’ve had to breastfeed. And then there’s the extra luggage: nappies, burp cloths, bibs, baby carrier, bottles, ointments, dummies and – most important of all – the blankie.

New parents generally fall somewhere along a spectrum. At one end of the spectrum, you get the couples who disappear from the social scene when their baby arrives – they only leave the house to visit Granny and Grandpa. On the other end you get people like my husband Tobie and I, who think that a baby should fit in with your life, not the other way around.

We’re not alone. There are lots of people who travel with their children and most of them make it look so easy. I have a friend who has been on two overseas trips with her young daughters, and I saw a guy on Instagram who took his two-year-old on a month-long camping trip in the Canadian Rockies. The toddler paddled on blue lakes and slept in a sleeping bag, in a tent. Too cute! But of course her dad never posted the photos where she was screaming at the top of her lungs because she wanted a pink marshmallow when there were only white ones left…

We travelled to Namibia when our firstborn, Emilie, was only two months old.

Emilie was a good sleeper. Our method was to rock her to sleep by

We made it through the first light in town, the one just after the bridge. But the second one was also red. Bella woke and cried for the next hour straight. After that journey, I wanted my blankie.

bouncing on a big pilates ball. After 10 minutes, she’d be fast asleep. It worked like a charm. The ball went everywhere we went – even to Namibia.

Sometimes, when Emilie was fussy, I would sit in the back seat with her and the pilates ball would take the front seat next to Tobie. (It was a hassle to inflate the ball each time.) We got some funny looks, especially at border posts. At Canyon Lodge near the Fish River Canyon, you have to walk through the reception office and restaurant to get to your room. I took the lead and Tobie followed with Emilie and our bags – and the ball. We must have been a sight to behold!

We didn’t really go on outings, except to the canyon viewpoint.

Our next stop was Eagle’s Nest Chalets near the tiny town of Aus. We attempted another outing there – to the Garub waterhole to see the wild horses. But when we arrived, Emilie had done a massive poo. It was everywhere – even up her back. She was screaming, I wanted to cry and Tobie tried to stay calm. It took an entire packet of Wet Wipes to deal with the mess.

When I look back now, I can’t even remember if we saw a wild horse. Would it not have been better to look at photos of the horses in a coffee table book while Emilie snoozed in her cot at home?

Many people tried to give us a friendly warning. Some even said you should stay at home for the first three years and let people come to you. But Tobie and I didn’t listen. We generally believe that things will work out, and we’re not big on planning everything down to the last detail. If you forget something, you can buy it along the way.

Except bum cream. In the mountains. In the middle of the night.

Emilie had never needed bum cream

– I figured it was an old-fashioned thing from the days when everyone used cloth nappies. I used disposable nappies on Emilie, so what was the point? Plus, have you seen bum cream? It’s thick and white, like polyfilla.

With this in mind, I didn’t even think to pack a tube when we went away for a weekend in the Winterhoek mountains above Porterville…

Of course, this would be the Saturday night that Emilie developed a rash on her bottom for the first time in her life. The poor child – I tried everything from shampoo to cold cucumber slices. We have to go home, I told Tobie deep in the night. Somehow he managed to talk sense into me and calm the baby down. Still, the rest of the weekend was a blur.

Emilie loved being in the car, but our second child Bella definitely didn’t. Going away for the weekend with Bella took careful planning – once she had fallen asleep, we couldn’t slow down or stop for anything, no matter the road signs or traffic lights we encountered, as this would wake the snoozing tyrant.

One weekend, we were on our way to Tulbagh. We had left home in Somerset West and Bella dozed off just past Stellenbosch. No! Too soon! We still had to make it through the traffic lights in Malmesbury. Tobie slowed down when we saw a red light up ahead, and Bella let out a few warning cries. He sped up a little. We made it through the first light in town, the one just after the bridge. But the second one was also red. Bella woke and cried for the next hour straight. After that journey, I wanted my blankie. We were even crazy enough to camp near the Kogelberg Nature Reserve with friends for a night. We stayed in a motorhome and put Emilie and Bella to bed early.

I still can’t explain what happened that night. It was very windy and somehow a scourge of mosquitoes sought shelter in the motorhome. The noise of the wind drowned out the children’s voices when they called for us. When I finally went to check on them, they were wailing and covered in mosquito bites – they looked like they had some kind of tropical disease. Needless to say, no one slept well that night.

One thing Tobie and I have always agreed on is that we want to raise our kids to be hikers. We started with mountain walks with a stroller – it felt more like a 4x4 mission. Then we switched to a baby carrier. Emilie had adventures on Helderberg, Table Mountain and in the Cederberg (where a branch almost poked her eye out) while still in nappies. She loved it and spent most of her time fast asleep on Tobie’s back. As with the car, Bella didn’t enjoy the carrier quite as much – she watched the world go by with a frown and liked to complain: “I’m ti-i-i-ired, I’m hot,

I’m hu-u-ungry…”

When your kids outgrow the carrier, the real test of parenthood begins: to get them to walk a far-ish distance on their own. It took kilometres of coaxing, motivating, begging and blackmailing. One Saturday morning, we drove to Harold Porter Botanical Garden in Betty’s Bay to walk a circular route. Bella was four and Emilie was six.

Afterwards, we drank beer and Fanta at Talla’s Tavern in Gordon’s Bay. We sat outside on the deck and watched people strolling along the beach, roaring past on their motorbikes and eating softserve ice creams.

Out of the blue, Bella said: “Mom, I didn’t complain once today.”

That’s when I realised our holidays would be much easier going forward.

Tobie and I had gained two new travel buddies.

Emilie and Bella often accompany Esma when she’s travelling for the magazine. Look for their blonde heads in her photos. – Ed.