Weekend Meander to MIDDELPOS

Pompelompie Hartklop (Heartbeat) Festival. The heart of the Karoo beats in its resilient, steadfast community, inspiring admiration and respect among visitors.

One fine day, Butch came along and suggested we go on a road trip to Middelpos. I’d never heard of the place, but I was game. He needed to continue his mission to put the Honey Badger’s rims through their paces. The dirt roads would do it, he said.

Drought-stricken conditions have persisted here for years, and farmers are at their wits’ end as animal stocks dwindle under harsh climatic conditions. We would be contributing to a very good cause, as the festival was a fundraising event.

The festival features a lineup of traditional boere orkes (orchestras), with a new band each hour, creating an authentic, lively atmosphere that showcases local musical heritage.

As subtly as he could, he sent me the programme to give it a once-over and make the final decision, accompanied by the loaded question, “Do you really think you’d like to go?”

Of course, I couldn’t wait and wouldn’t miss it for the world. I could hear his sigh of exasperation from a mile off.

We camped in the Middelpos Hotel’s backyard with several other campers, sharing stories and experiencing firsthand how the community comes together to celebrate and support its local festival and initiatives.

MTB attorneys and a local farmer, Francois du Toit, kindly donated a truckload of beautiful, export-quality table grapes, a treat in Middelpos, I’m sure. Everyone went home with at least one punnet of fresh, crisp grapes.

We made it home without a single flat tyre or leaky rim. Over a 20 km stretch, I counted 28 ruined tyres lying by the side of the road. These roads are hard.

Before we set off, with our eBikes securely strapped on, we noticed our front left tyre was losing air—a slow puncture. Fortunately, we realised in time, and off the truck went to an exasperated Mossie, who, I’m sure, cringes when he spots us coming down the road. Our new rim had a leak caused by a welding mishap. Mossie injected some magic “glue” into the crack, and so far, so good.

We set off in good time to reach Middelpos, passing Tjol Se Gat, a colourful watering hole that sparked a sense of wonder and curiosity about local life and scenery.

The bands were starting to arrive and set up their equipment for a weekend of jolly music as we arrived in Middelpos after negotiating some of the worst dirt roads I’d encountered in a long time—a good test. The rims held.

In no time, we’d parked and set ourselves up. We moved to join the other travellers on the wide veranda. Lunch was being served. I tucked into a delicious Karoo-style lamb curry—more turmeric than curry, but not lacking in flavour. It was served with the sweetest watermelon. I couldn’t resist a second helping. What tickled me most was the absolute lack of presentation, garnishing or finesse. Two large saucepans were unceremoniously plonked onto the table, with a pile of bowls, cutlery and paper serviettes. Tuck in was the message.

As the sun set, the band started up. Soulful country music. The plonk of a guitar and the rich, reedy sound of an accordion filled the air. These musicians were passionate about their music, as their renditions of popular tunes showed. The audience was captivated. Soon, there was plenty of foot-tapping and some Sakkie-Sakkie two-stepping. That’s what it was all about. Followers of the bands (Groupies would be too strong a word) came from far and wide to support their “teams”, as we later learned.

The Earth had to cool down before we could enjoy the cheese-and-wine spread put on by local ladies. Beautiful homemade breads, cheeses, lovely canapés, and fruit were laid out. Butch and I set up our camping chairs, settled, had our drinks and snacks, and then watched the world go by until it was time to head off and let the “younger generation” enjoy themselves.

On Saturday morning, we couldn’t resist a lie-in before joining the crowds. With our breakfast hamper (reserved and paid for when we confirmed our booking and received the programme) in tow, we enjoyed a delicious coffee from one of the many stalls. Pancakes, bazaar puddings, craft beer, craft gin and delicacies unique to the Karoo were available from stalls lining the dusty dirt road along Main Street.

For lunch, I nibbled on crispy, fall-off-the-bone Skaap Stertjies (sheep’s tails), liver in netvet (liver encased in caul), and roosterkoek (perfectly made by local ladies), all served with tangy apricot jam and Kaiings (crackling). Delicious. Unbelievable that it’s taken me so long to enjoy such deliciousness! This alone made the trip worthwhile.

Aneen Nel, a photographer, gave a very insightful interview about her 365-day photographic journey, which she started after the stillbirth of her baby daughter. She published it daily on social media, going from relative obscurity to celebrity as women from all walks of life started following her, finding her daily stories therapeutic and healing.

The police officer or woman on duty was friendly and even posed for a photograph on the shop’s stoep when I asked. They had no qualms about being in uniform and proudly showed off. I was impressed.

The general dealer, aptly named Die Winkel (The Shop), must be one of the last of its kind, doubling as a shop and post office.

Butch and I enjoyed all the activities, but we mostly enjoyed the chit-chat all around us (I am an accomplished eavesdropper). Later, when it became hot, children, young and old, took themselves off to the swimming dam to cool down. Some of the older generation went to “lie down”, and some of us just lolled about, enjoying the passing parade. Can you remember swimming in a cement dam? I think all children of that age did. I clearly remember how the cement corroded the pads of my toes!

A country festival will never be complete without a show of strength. It’s bound to happen. That herculean thing testosterone secretes. Two teams were quickly assembled: the fittest, strongest, and heaviest specimens for the tug-of-war. After lengthy discussions about the rules, the men put their heels back and pulled. No clear winner emerged, but everyone had a lot of fun.

Dancing is big in these parts, and while the bands played, enthusiastic dancers would take to the floor. I believe some fans who follow their favourite bands are dancers too. Dressed in shimmering tops, ladies and their partners would take to the floor, kicking up clouds of dust as they twisted and twirled.

I enjoyed a delightful conversation with one of the band members of Williston Stoftrappers, a maestro on his bright red accordion. Johan can engage his audience, draw them into a sing-song, and make even the most unaccomplished, all-fingers musician feel part of the entertainment while they drum, shake, or beat on one of his instruments. He has a sure following, and I could see why! Don’t ever stop, Johan. In case you aren't aware, you certainly have a way with the ladies!

A spit braai was a given, as it was on Saturday evening too. With our recycled cardboard picnic boxes, we had supper under the huge pepper tree as couples danced and enjoyed the perfect Karoo evening. Later, as Butch predicted, we heard rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning, and then big drops of rain fell. This was our cue to retire.

The rain came down in glorious buckets. We woke on Sunday morning to a wet Karoo, with large puddles everywhere.

Before departure, we were invited to join the hotel owner for breakfast before setting off for the Tankwa Karoo and the beautiful Gannaga Pass, which leads down from the plateau. For lunch, we stopped at the Tankwa Padstal before heading home. Stepping through the front door feels like stepping into a 1960s time machine.

Well done to the organisers for ensuring all takeaway and food packaging was recyclable. Not only was it practical, but it was also aesthetically pleasing. Much nicer than Styrofoam. The Karoo knows all about climate change, and they’re being proactive.

A retired railwayman, the owner of the Karretjie, a mule-drawn cart, reminded me never to forget our roots and where we come from. His children have migrated from the Karoo and now live in Cape Town; he says they are very grand—wise man.

Middelpos might not be the most exciting destination on the map. Still, it’s a destination with character and hospitality, bar none—a good stop on a road trip and a popular destination for bikers.