Finding Ourselves In The Breede River Valley - River's Own Lodge

It’s absolute chaos everywhere right now. Just two days before Santa crosses the equator to deliver gifts to us in sunny South Africa! His reindeer must be hoofing it to get the deliveries done.

Judging by the number of scooters and motorbikes buzzing about, delivering from Checkers 60/60, Pick ‘n Pay, Woollies Dash, The Delivery Guy, and others will have some of us up in arms with late deliveries. Traffic is backed up, and traffic cops are out in full force to get us. Who needs a fine at this busy time of year anyway? We really Takealot. Carrot sales must've gone through the roof; the reindeers' eyesight must be 20/20 now.

’Tis the silly season, and I remind myself that there’s a good chance no one will read this blog, but who knows—perhaps a few minutes away from all the noise with a glass of bubbly and a chocolate might be just what the Doctor ordered. We all need a moment of eremitism (a slow retreat from others’ lives, not out of malice but for solitude or renewal).

Often, it requires a moment of quiet reflection—so to speak, a broadening of perspective—to view our lives in context. I usually find this when I flick through my photo albums, my visual diary. Instead of zooming in on daily trivia, one must zoom out to see the bigger picture. It is only then that it becomes astonishing to see what we’ve achieved in a day, week, month or year. A gentle reminder (or nudge) that our lives are anything but dull or mundane. The happy, carefree moments far outweigh the hurdles we stumble and trip over.

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The Honey Badger was ready to be taken to Bushwakka for maintenance. With an HB pencil and a notebook, the man in charge of work listened attentively to Butch, who pointed out the necessities. Every inch of the truck was carefully scrutinised, and even the smallest missing screw was recorded.

After careful consideration, we received an estimate and a preliminary assurance that the truck should be ready within a month. We promised not to be a nuisance.

Bushwakka’s promise, “Passion, Trust, Reliability, and they’ll take us further." We count on that.

Our accommodation for the month is a brick-and-mortar cottage on a farm in  BreëRivier at the foot of the Bain’s Kloof Pass. For me this was an unexplored valley surrounded by mountains with a river running through it. 

 

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River’s Own Guest Lodge

Maret is a child of my heart, and reconnecting with her and her beautiful, boisterous family after many years instantly lifted my spirits. With her two boys sitting shotgun, we turned the truck around and lumbered to our cottage at the next gate.

So like her mother, Martha, with sparkling eyes, an easy smile, always positive, authentic, and nurturing. This girl, my son’s childhood bestie, is a woman of substance.  I'm sure the mystical cats, whom Martha loved, move in and out of the rooms like a fleeting thought—silent, yet unforgettable.  

The recently renovated one-bedroom cottage was perfect and an easy adjustment for us, where we still had all our bits and bobs scattered around us. In the small kitchen, I cooked. On hot coals, Butch barbecued.

In the large, modern shower, with the jets set to full blast, every day’s tensions were washed away. Then, wrapped in luxurious towels, we felt rejuvenated, or lying in the comfortable bed, I read, wrote, and recharged my batteries, enfolded in swathes of Egyptian cotton linens.

Faides’ cheerful greetings in the morning brightened my day. I could rely on her for a lesson in optimistic living. ‘It’s all in the mind,’ she said, “I carry my emotions in my heart,” before answering her phone—a call from her sister in Johannesburg; her chemotherapy was taking a toll on her. Faides promised she would be catching the next bus on her weekend off.

I recognised the weight of love, worry, sacrifice, and the endless thoughts that never allowed her to rest etched on her beautiful face.

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Does anyone remember the pre-electronic days of the Sunday Slimes (Times)? Those glorious Sunday mornings spent thumbing through the heavy newspapers, everyone engrossed in the news, politics, sport, or the titillating back page. Not everyone got the main pages; there were ranks for who got which section.

We’d refill our cups of Earl Grey tea, squeezing out the last drops from the silver teapot. At eleven thirty, someone would jump up to offer G&Ts. There was a magical silence with occasional heavy drops of words, comments, or exclamations. While swapping sections, our glasses would be refilled, and the dogs and kids would be left to play their rough-and-tumble on the lawn, their energy echoing around the veranda.

Those were the nostalgic moments I recalled then, when nothing surpasses a spectacular sunset, reflected on a tranquil river, surrounded by pink-tipped mountains, mirrored in the swimming pool. I heard children’s laughter and four dogs barking next door.

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There was much exploring to do. We’d walk some days, hike on others and ride our bikes on many.

On our bikes, Butch and I pedalled the winding road of the Bain’s Kloof Pass. Every time we did it, we’d increase our distance as our legs strengthened.

Eventually, we could keep up with the cyclists pedalling all the way from Wellington, though we never managed the distances they did.

On a fine Tuesday, Tozer’s Tours accepted our invitation to visit and came over from Hermanus, where they’re swallows, and we all piled into the car to show them Bosjes, the jewel in the crown of the Breërivier.

Surrounded by the Waaihoek and Slanghoek mountains, Bosjes, a historic working farm, is an idyllic destination with award-winning architecture, landmark buildings, landscaped gardens, and walks.

There are numerous locations for meals, stays, and Bosjes is a spectacular wedding or celebration venue. The iconic chapel, with its curved roof, floats on the still waters of a pond, reflecting the beauty of this place. (Credit for the photograph below goes to the photographer.)

We wandered through the gardens, vineyards and orchards before making our way to the restaurant for lunch.

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After a fortnight away from our Honey Badger, curiosity got the better of us, and we decided to inspect the progress made at Bushwakka.

I was not prepared for the shambles awaiting us, but we were assured that the maintenance work and some renovations were underway and that all orders had been placed. Carpenters and handymen were already set up to get going with various tasks.

We certainly were not prepared for the state of our truck when we saw it, and my heart sank into my shoes. Would we ever be ready by the end of the month? I wasn’t so sure and thought it best to be prepared, in case we overstay our welcome on the farm. Butch would extend our stay, he promised.

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Short History of the Bain’s Kloof Pass

The Bain’s Kloof Pass (R301) provided a more direct route from the town of Wellington to the northern towns of Ceres and Worcester in the Western Cape. It was a popular route among wagoners who appreciated the gentle gradients suitable for ox wagons. It remained the main road heading north for nearly a hundred years until the construction of the Du Toits Kloof Pass from 1940 to 1946.

The pass stretches 26,8 km from the Breede River bridge to Wellington’s outskirts. Constructed around 1849 by Andrew Geddes Bain, it was a challenging feat, achieved with convict labour and primitive techniques. True to Bain’s reputation, he supervised an impressive project that, enduring through the years, has earned recognition as a national monument.

The northern part of the pass, which is more dramatic, roughly traces the route of the Witte River, a raging river during the wet winter months. Several points of interest can be found along the pass, such as the two toll stations (Eerste & Tweede Tol), Dacre’s Pulpit, Bell Rocks, Pilkington Bridge, Borcherd’s Bridge, Gawie se Water, Bain’s Ruins, and Bain’s Tunnel.

(This coming February, we’ll return to this picturesque pass and River's Own Lodge, hoping to impress our Canadian visitors, Cindy-Lou, Dwayne and Amy. We can’t wait to show them the Boland.)

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Blue skies and sunny days are a sure thing in the Boland, which makes planning ahead easy. One morning, we set off to explore the mountains behind us.

The cement track eventually gave way to gravel as we trekked ever upwards on the winding road.

Fynbos, grasses and flowering bulbs always reward us, no matter the season, and the waboom (wagon tree) provided shady spots along the way.

There is a scattering of cottages built at various bends in the road, which was a surprise. To construct these projects takes patience and grit, but the views from their lofty positions make it all worthwhile, I discovered as I draped my tired legs over a galvanised tub to rest. The views were a feast for the eyes.

 

The grand prize was, of course, that we were the only humans on that mountain. Glorious to have the place to ourselves. The large male baboon did guard duty from his lofty perch on the rock but didn't bother us at all.

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Canadian Visa Application

The ping on my phone announcing a message turned out to be fortuitous this time. My Visa Application, which I’d handed over to Emily, my daughter-in-law, had been delivered to the visa application centre in Pretoria. Hoorah.

At last, all the tedious forms and rigmarole had been submitted, and now the wait started. Emily, an Immigration Officer in Canada, had taken over my application and promised that, with her connections, expertise, and knowledge of the system, my wait would be over in no time. The sceptic in me wasn’t so sure.

My Visa application was successful, and within a few weeks, I received my passport with a Visa valid for eight years (until my current passport expired).

For anyone who requires a Canadian visa, I can highly recommend Emily van Heerden. She certainly knows how to appease a client and make the process as painless as possible. She has an easy way about her, never gets flustered, impatient or annoyed at the client or the system! (Bear in mind, I am the dreaded Mother-in-law, which makes her professional handling of my case all the more remarkable.)

I was two steps closer to holding and hugging my beloveds again. Whoop-whoop.

In the meantime, Butch and I cycled as many roads as we could, enjoying the sunshine and at times relishing the thick misty clouds rolling over the mountains.

When it rained, I’d rush outdoors with my camera to snap pictures of the saturated colours or raindrops clinging to trellises where vines grew. It is not often that I celebrate a rainy day, but in the Breede River valley, one does especially when the mercury starts topping 38°C.

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De Grendel

Two minutes after we received confirmation from our friend Bhavik that he’d be in Cape Town for a few days, we set up a lunch date at De Grendel.

Now I must explain my haste. Bhavik is one of my all-time favourite people. Simple as that. He is the guy with the exciting life; he travels all over the world, explores exotic places and has no qualms about going wildly off-grid. We would not dilly-dally in case we missed an opportunity to see him.

Bhavik is the guy whose tent was ripped apart by baboons in Mana Pools, in Zimbabwe, where we met years ago.

It was an inclement day on our side of the mountain when we set off in the Chico that morning.

This would be the first time in decades that I’d gone all the way to Wellington via the Bains Kloof pass, and quite honestly, I would agree with Faan, who travels that way daily, that this was not only a scenic drive but also very relaxing. One had to lift the foot off the gas much of the time and take a slow meander.

The clearance on the rock outcroppings is 3,68m, which means the Honey Badger would have made it. From my lofty position in the truck, I might have managed better photographs of the views and the river way down below, but this time the little Volkswagen had to suffice as I craned my neck to get a good picture of the landscape.

In Wellington, we stopped for coffee before heading off to our lunch date. We were a bit early, giving me time to explore the historic building while browsing some interesting displays.

Lunch with Bhavik didn’t disappoint at all. No sooner had we met than we were on a roll listening to his fascinating tales.

I couldn’t describe the De Grendel restaurant any better than their website where they say, “The Graaff family’s passion for winemaking extends to the philosophy we employ at our restaurant: the use of seasonal and locally sourced fresh produce, and a menu that is updated regularly, reflective of the unique culinary heritage of the Cape, and created with complementary De Grendel wines in mind.”

We spent a wonderfully sublime afternoon catching up with our friend over scrumptious cuisine.

Each course was thoughtfully procured, tastefully prepared, beautifully plated, and delicious.

We might very well have been the first guests to arrive and the last to leave.

February 2026 is going to be a bumper month for Butch and me as we’re hoping to see Bhavik again. Next time in Hermanus, we hope to introduce him to our family from Canada and friends who look forward to catching up with him again.

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On one of our hikes, we decided to head off in another direction, this time to the Bakkrans waterfall and the “window” as described by the locals.

The views were magnificent. Vineyards are green and in full production. Mountains in blue and rocky outcroppings as far as the eye could see. We took it slow, enjoying every step as we navigated the gravelly path.  

Below, we noticed tractors with heavily laden trailers filled with grapes harvested for the year’s vintage. From our vantage point, we could see the small green or red tractors, like ants scurrying from the farm to the cellar in complete silence. On the way back, the empty trailers seemed to bounce along the road, joyfully eager to get back to the farm.

We didn’t make it all the way to the window and waterfall on this occasion, but I would return a few days later to complete the hike while Butch cycled.

While enjoying a good hike, Butch prefers pedal power. Sometimes one has to compromise, and he does so eagerly.

I made it to the cave, where the window let light flood in, offering a view of the valley below. 

After a short water break, I resumed my hike along the ridge to find the waterfall. I did find it. During the hot, dry summer months, the river feeding the falls must dry up significantly. I had made it and enjoyed the incredible, green lushness of the vegetation the falls were a little disappointing. During the winter months, after a good rainfall, they will show themselves spectacularly, I’m sure.

Finding a farm stall in the remotest, off-the-beaten-track is always a delight, and of course, it beckons us to stop a while, to peruse, meet the locals and to fill our backpacks with something unique or homemade from the area.

As you’ve probably gathered, we strike up conversations with everyone and on this occasion, I had the opportunity to chat with the lady in charge of the quaint pitstop.

No sooner had we met when the floodgates opened and she told me of her anxiety over her Mum, a widow, who was having an online “love affair” with a guy from the USA who was scamming her. They had tried sweet-talking her Mum to no avail, not even threats bore any effect, and her Mum was adamant she was in a kosher relationship with an upstanding gentleman. As impossible as it seems, these cads are out to defraud vulnerable women.

Mother Theresa hit the nail on the head when she said, “Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.” 

It always surprises me to hear of the weirdest stories in the most unlikely places.

After my invigorating hike to the window and the waterfall, where I passed another secluded cottage, I encountered a man busy loading a large pink inflatable flamingo into his car. He was very friendly and pointed out the quickest route back to the main road.

I mentioned this to a local with intel, as I had been quite concerned about the bloody scratches on his legs. She giggled and, in a conspiratorial voice, told me that the cottage was notorious as a weekend retreat for folk into S&M (Sadomasochism) and the wounds were probably inflicted as part of his kinky enjoyment.

She added that access to the basement, where the paraphernalia (floggers and restraints, I assume) was stored, had recently been upgraded.

You could’ve knocked me over with a feather—different strokes for different folks. I smiled all the way back to the Farm stall, where I couldn’t wait to tell Butch this bit of scintillating news.

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Never a dull moment if you’re looking, but there were quiet days when I’d mooch about with my camera, taking pictures of my surroundings. Trees laden with lemons, a spider’s web heavy with waterdrops, a sunrise, sunset, flowers in bloom, or the blackened carcasses of trees and a landscape incinerated by bushfires, and after a cloudburst, mushrooms would appear; all of these contribute to creating lasting impressions of our stay.

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Another highlight of our stay was an unexpected invitation to meet up with a second cousin from Vancouver.

Merion and Dave were in Cape Town for a short visit before they continued their journey to Namibia and the Serengeti. We were able to meet for dinner in Green Point.

We have never met, yet as soon as we were introduced, it felt as if I’d known Merion all my life. Blood is thicker than water. I could also see where the “tall” gene came from, which has been passed down to my Granny, Dad, and children.

I certainly hope this will not be the last time, and I look forward to catching up again one day. We have so much history to discuss.

Our trip to Green Point was two-fold, and the next day we attended an Oupa en Ouma day (Grandparents day) at Liam’s school.

It was wonderful to meet his teacher, to see the playground where he gets up to all sorts of shenanigans with classmates, and we were even invited to sit at his desk!

The short concert held on the pavilion was a testament to the teacher’s commitment and passion in teaching a class of five- and six-year-olds. We couldn’t be prouder of Liam, and admired her for her perseverance.

The picnic on the sports fields was the perfect way to end a splendid morning. With Ouma on Oupa's knee our group photo caused the teacher/photographer to blush. Oupa was very excited.

The class was dismissed early, and we had the pleasure of Liam's company for the rest of the day. These are the special moments we treasure.

It is my wish that Merion and Dave will have fond memories of Cape Town, our Table Mountain, the Atlantic seaboard, and who knows, maybe they also had tea at one of our iconic hotels, as we did at the Winchester Hotel in Sea Point, where we had a drink in the courtyard bedecked by the pinkest bougainvillaea. We sat in the shade of black-and-white striped umbrellas.

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As expected, the work on the Honey Badger turned out to be more complicated and took longer than expected.

Although the Manor house at River’s Own Guest Lodge is rarely vacant, we were fortunate and could stay a while longer in our cottage.

Whenever my mind returns to our stay in the Breede River valley, it is the people we met there and the Van Der Westhuizens’ hospitality, kindness and generosity that come to mind.

River’s Own Guest Lodge should be on everyone’s lips and bucket list. The accommodation is top-notch with all the conveniences needed for an incredible stay. There can be no better location for a short or extended break, away from the maddening crowd.  

The lodge features five bedrooms and five bathrooms, comfortably accommodating up to 15 guests. Guests have access to amenities such as a barbecue island and grassy embankments for picnicking. The property is surrounded by the Mount Bain Private Nature Reserve (where we hiked), and the area offers a picturesque setting for outdoor activities such as hiking, mountain biking, canoeing, paddling, or swimming in the river.

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Last but not least

On a rainy day, we met up with friends in the Hemel and Aarde valley to celebrate the end of the harvest season. Seated at picnic tables under golfing umbrellas, we caught up with our friends, the de Witts.

Janine and I come a long way. Our friendship is unconditional; even on an inclement day, we have much to laugh about.

While the musical duo strummed their guitars and crooned soulful melodies, we tucked into some interesting offerings sold from food trucks.

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The time we spent in the Breede River Valley was well spent, and I believe we did a good deal of exploring the area, and it is well worth a visit. I’m sure there are many more interesting places to discover, e.g., Ceres, Tulbagh, Worcester, De Doorns, Rawsonville, and Robertson.

It is well that we remember how huge South Africa is, and within it are a gazillion surprises and WOW moments. In the Breede River valley alone, we were within a stone’s throw of an abundance of farm stalls, farmers’ markets, restaurants, destination wine farms, flower farms, art, food, fun and shopping opportunities.

I hope this blog demonstrates how often we overlook the good moments in favour of our limitations, moods, and anxieties. Yet, when we revisit and see the big picture, we reach an entirely different perspective, and all it takes is a retrospective look at our past through photographs, memory, conversations and an open mind. 

Brigitte Bardot passed away today. May she rest gently.

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RIVER'S OWN LODGE:

https://riversown.com/ 

(Some of the photographs depicting River's Own Lodge are from their Facebook page. All credit goes to the photographer.)

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We are living in uncertain times, and many South Africans have children and loved ones working and living overseas. It has become more complicated and stressful to get a Visa (which we need for almost all countries). I really encourage you to use a professional Visa Consultant, and from personal experience, I am confident in recommending Emily for Canadian Visas. My Visa woes were not over yet. I would need a Transit Visa for my 13-hour layover at Heathrow Airport, too.