The Old And The Nieu Bethesda

Visiting Nieu Bethesda is like visiting a favourite Grandmother. You know their smells, their curves, the colour of their curls. Her soothing voice is constant. Reliable, patient, and her devotion is unconditional. We’ve introduced our friends, shared experiences at dinner parties, and retold extraordinary stories about our visits to Nieu Bethesda a million times over. 

Like iron ore to a magnet, the pull to return to this outpost in the Karoo remains strong. The Covid pandemic scuppered our plans to visit two years ago, and being able to return meant our lives had returned to normal.

Dust billowed clouds behind the Honey Badger, covering our bikes in fine dust. Nothing had changed here, and there wasn’t one new building in sight. Although I couldn’t recall some of the homes or businesses, a sense of familiarity washed over me, and they had survived the hard years behind us.

The Backpackers was still there, but the pub on the opposite corner had changed ownership, and there was another pub on the other side of the road where the Sheard’s used to live.

We parked and set up camp near the beautifully restored Makuti, a fabulously curated guesthouse I follow on Instagram. Horses and an ostentation of peacocks roamed in a field adjacent to us. My apprehension at their annoying high-pitched screeches was unfounded, and those birds didn’t even mewl!

Some days we experienced four seasons in a day with unlikely showers soaking us on a few walks to and fro from the village. Nights were cooler but never warranted bed socks or hot water bottles, and we were as cosy as bugs in a rug.

The Springboks were playing one of their test matches against Wales, and our support was critical. Being subjected to load-shedding didn’t make matters straightforward, and the hunt was on to find a suitable spot to watch the game. The internet tower depends on Escom’s power supply in these small towns. Fortunately, the publican at Boetie's Pub could organise a generator to power the TV, enabling us to view the game.

It has been years since I participated as a “pub supporter”, and I must confess I loved it: the vibe, the guests, and the charged atmosphere added to the excitement of the game. We cheered and criticised the referee in unison, agreeing with the unfairness of his decisions. I indulged in a packet of cheese and onion crisps, a first in many years. Next to me sat a couple from Parys, a little-known town I’d never visited on the banks of the Vaal river. Guess where I’m off to when the opportunity arises? The best travel tips are gleaned from the traveller on the next seat.

We won the match. To celebrate, Butch and I walked across the road to the Italian restaurant where I had the best Pappadel pasta smothered in a mouthwatering beef short rib sauce, which became my go-to recipe for an easy yet delicious meal for winter. I will share my version of the recipe in my next blog post.

One of our memorable moments in Nieu Bethesda happened fifteen years ago. When returning from a holiday in Mozambique, we made a detour and slept over. It was recommended that we have dinner “down the road, on that corner.” The owner of the Backpackers said, pointing to a cottage a hundred meters down the road.

Our server, Grace, was a teenager at the time and the daughter of the owner and chef, instructed us to “pay what we wanted to” when we requested the bill at the end of our three course meal. A red enamel teapot was produced for our contribution. The concept of an honesty system certainly surprised us.

One of our missions on this visit was to revisit this extraordinary eatery, payment based on trust.

There are one or two ways to explore Nieu Bethesda, and we opted for cycling. While we were having coffee and cinnamon pancakes at the Farm stall, we discovered that Grace still lives there. 

It took a few turns before we spotted Hullabaloo Coffee. Butch recognised Grace immediately, all grown up but still a petite, pretty girl. We recalled our experience years ago and found out about their lives in the ensuing years. After completing their education in Graaff Reinet, Grace’s siblings spread their wings, her brother, a recently qualified Paediatrician and sister in Jeffries Bay; Grace couldn’t  cut the apron strings. She lives with her daughter in their white-washed cottage with it's Bundi blue walls surrounded by Karoo shrubs, sheep and shepherds. While there we treated ourselves to Grace's chilli infused hot chocolate. 

Things have changed in Nieu Bethesda, and the informal settlement has grown staggeringly. In the past, we were told crime was negligible; this time, we did see the police van and heard of a few incidents where a petty crime had been committed. Not surprising as the economic downturn affecting everyone must indeed play a role there too.

We joined the locals for Sunday lunch at The Waenhuis, took walks, read our books, and went for a tapas meal at the Brewery, It goes without saying that my camera accompanied me wherever I went. We did not visit the Owl House, and I do regret that.

There should be a massive star on every map of the Karoo highlighting Nieu Bethesda, pointing travellers there. If you haven’t been and need a little Vitamin Karoo, I couldn’t think of a better place to be.

There are numerous guesthouses, Airbnb, and farm stays. The campground is small and centrally located with THE BEST shower I’ve had in ages. There are eateries for every dining experience, a trading store (closed when we needed it!) and many scenic routes for hikes, walks, cycles and pubs and coffee shops to quench a thirst. I didn’t go shopping but recall seeing one or two shops selling antiquities and bric-a-brac. Of course there are a few galleries and one in particular reminded me so of Greve in Tuscany.

To make a commitment to pick up sticks and move to Nieu Bethesda permanently must take guts, commitment and a  passion for your craft, if you're not retiring. I can see the appeal to fall in love with it's village charm, romantic sunsets, crisp air and friendly locals, but that must surely wear off once you've settled and the hot, dry summers set in.  When you run out of milk or need a doctor for an emergency or your capped teeth need servicing and the journey to Graaff Reinet looms every Monday morning when a weekend with precious children ends and they return to boarding school or you miss out on another netball match. But then the Karoo has never promised you a rose garden.

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It was mission accomplished as far as I was concerned, and time to head home to tackle my to-do list.

"It seems that the more places I see and experience, the bigger I realize the world to be. The more I become aware of, the more I realize how relatively little I know of it, how many places I have still to go, how much more there is to learn. Maybe that’s enlightenment enough - to know that there is no final resting place of the mind, no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom, at least for me, means realizing how small I am, and unwise, and how far I have yet to go." Anthony Bourdain

The following photographs are a random collection of builings, art and street scenes I saw while walking or cycling.