Voyage through time

Pawel and I wind down a ramp at Maropeng, deeper into the Earth: 4 400 years down, 25 000 years, 1.6 million years back.

“Imagine going on a journey, back through the elemental forces,” intones a mesmeric spook-voice. There’s no time to imagine because, just around the corner, we’re in darkness, surrounded by hollow cave echoes, rushing water, a muffled booming. Our boat-tub slips into the dark torrent and whisks us with the current, whirling into blue eddies and mists. I feel as though I’m on a ghost-train of my childhood, giggly-scared.

We are flung over a waterfall. Pawel moves to protect his cameras but the waterfall magically ceases and we are spinning through into another watery space where wind howls and snow blows from on high. We are heading for a cavern wall and, to lessen the impact, I reach out. Ice.

Fork lightning somewhere there in our future splits the Caenozoic atmosphere. There’s an eerie silence between electric flashes, then we are shot forward into glowing fire waters, reflecting walls glowing with orange lava, under a hiss of steam.

Two toothy humans with hooked weapons loom through the darkness ahead, haul our boat onto the rollers that take us up and onto terra 1 600 000 BCE. I even expect to have ancient sea legs but they’re disappointingly steady.

The boat that comes in after us is filled with a family of stern Swedes. I switch off my grin, self-consciously. Okay, so maybe it’s all just silly, physical effects. You can even see past some of the canvas corners. If you want to. It’s not a techno-virtual experience. It’s just fun.

To move us to 2014, there’s a bridge. But this is a vortex bridge and I find myself holding the bridge down as it tries to fly up and over my left shoulder.

It’s odd to eat a bland fried fish on the roof of the Maropeng centre, looking across the calm plain in midday-sun flattening light, after a turbulent river of fire and ice.

Before we leave, I explain to Pawel that I have a phone call to make. I spotted something among the higher-tech science exhibits below. I call on an old bakelite telephone, though she ends up doing all the talking – a dodo with an enchanting French accent. My cellphone rings. They’ll understand, I think, tucking it away. The dodo came first.