The Old And The Nieu Bethesda

Visiting Nieu Bethesda feels like visiting a favourite grandmother. Her familiar smells, curves, and the colour of her curls create a comforting sense of home. We’ve shared so many stories and experiences that it feels like reconnecting with an old friend. 

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

Nothing had changed here, and not a single new building was in sight. A sense of continuity and resilience washed over me, reminding me of this community's strength in enduring the hard years behind us.

The Backpackers was still there, but the pub on the opposite corner had changed hands, and another stood on the other side of the road where the Sheards 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 beside us. My apprehension about their high-pitched screeches was unfounded, and those birds didn’t even mewl!

Some days we experienced four seasons in a day, with unexpected 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. Load-shedding didn’t make things easy, and the hunt was on for a suitable spot to watch the game. In these small towns, the internet tower depends on Eskom’s power supply. Fortunately, the publican at Boetie's Pub could organise a generator to power the TV so we could watch the game.

It has been years since I last took part as a “pub supporter”, and I must confess I loved it: the vibe, the guests, and the charged atmosphere added to the game's excitement. We cheered and criticised the referee in unison, agreeing that his decisions were unfair. 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 on the banks of the Vaal River that I’d never visited. Guess where I’m off to when the opportunity arises? The best travel tips come from the traveller in 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 Pappardelle pasta smothered in a mouthwatering beef short-rib sauce. It became my go-to recipe for an easy yet delicious winter meal. 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. On our way back from a holiday in Mozambique, we made a detour and slept over. They recommended 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. She 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 brought for our contribution. The honesty system certainly surprised us.

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

There are one or two ways to explore Nieu Bethesda, and we chose to cycle. While we were enjoying coffee and cinnamon pancakes at the Farm stall, we learned 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 reminisced about our experience years earlier and learned about their lives since. After completing their education in Graaff Reinet, Grace’s siblings spread their wings: her brother, a recently qualified paediatrician, and her sister in Jeffries Bay; Grace couldn’t cut the apron strings. She lives with her daughter in their whitewashed cottage with its 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 markedly. In the past, we were told crime was negligible; this time, we saw the police van and heard of a few incidents of petty crime. Not surprising, as the economic downturn affecting everyone must play a role there too.

We joined the locals for Sunday lunch at The Waenhuis, took walks, read our books, and had tapas at the Brewery. My camera accompanied me wherever I went. We didn't visit the Owl House, and I regret that.

Every map of the Karoo should feature a massive star highlighting Nieu Bethesda and 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, Airbnbs, 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, and cycles, as well as pubs and coffee shops to quench a thirst. I didn’t go shopping, but I 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 much of Greve in Tuscany.

Committing to picking up sticks and moving to Nieu Bethesda permanently takes guts, commitment, and a passion for your craft, if you're not retiring. I can see the appeal of falling in love with its 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, need a doctor for an emergency, or your capped teeth need servicing, the journey to Graaff Reinet looms every Monday morning when a weekend with precious children ends, and they return to boarding school, or when you miss out on another netball match. But then the Karoo has never promised you a rose garden.

---oOo---

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

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

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