Whether we can, Weather we can’t!

Our brief holiday depended on the weather. Where are the days when we could judge the weather by the way the day feels, e.g., putting your head out the door, feeling inclement weather in your bones, or watching a mountaintop being covered by a cloudy cloth, which used to be a good indicator of wind? We knew when the wind was blowing like the clappers at Bikini Beach just by looking at the tumbling clouds cascading over the Helderberg. Not today. Now it’s all about the App and following trends like sheep.

And God forbid you dare question meteorologist Pete, YR, or AccuWeather. That’s why we couldn’t possibly cycle on Saturday morning; a fresh breeze had been predicted. Sticking a wet forefinger in the air doesn’t count for anything anymore. 

For your information: Wind is measured in metres per second. (Knots are used only on ships.) 7.9 m/s - 10.8 m/s = fresh breeze. 10.8 m/s - 17.2 m/s = strong breeze to near gale, and over 17.2 m/s could be a gale-force wind up to hurricane force. The arrow shows the wind direction.

Unfortunately, we didn’t explore Bushman’s Valley campsite near Prince Albert and only spent one night there. I believe there are lovely hikes into the mountains, and it’s an easy ride into Prince Albert on a fine day, but the Wi-Fi reception is almost non-existent, especially during load shedding. (our experience)

The Springboks were playing their first test match against the touring Welsh team, and we would watch the game come hell or high water. There was an Arctic chill in the truck...

---oOo---

We are taking our time and no longer driving miles chasing the sun. After a leisurely coffee, we packed up and trundled into trendy Prince Albert to stock up on lovely supplies. I popped into the Saturday market, where locals relished the winter sun over pancakes and coffee. It’s hard not to stare at the famous faces filling their baskets with delicious goodies from Die Hell to Merweville. Olives, lemons, succulents, fresh bread, herbs, and healthy vegetables were being piled into baskets and crochet string bags. The atmosphere was festive as friends gathered to celebrate and reunite. I had to dash off to find an ATM while Butch, in the meantime, ordered Karoo lamb from the local butcher for our braai.

At Spar, I spotted another celebrity: you may run, but you can’t hide any more, especially with such an active Instagram account. No, Jackie O disguise can’t hide your genuine smile, kind spirit, and style, Jackie B.

During the week, Butch had investigated campsites near Prince Albert in the De Rust district.

While he punched in De Rust on the Garmin, my coffee addiction kicked in. While looking for a coffee shop, I browsed the Angora Wool shop and one or two of the many galleries. I had to keep reminding myself that I would have to store all the lovelies and desirables in my heart and mind for the foreseeable future, and that there would be no shopping for a while. My life as a gipsy demanded that we travel light—he who travels light travels far has been my mantra for years.

Our route through the majestic mountains, twisting through the Swartberg Pass and Meiring’s Poort, filled us with awe. The towering peaks and rugged terrain humbled me and made me eager to explore more of South Africa's natural beauty.

History lesson: “Around 1820, Petrus Meiring discovered the deep cleft through the Swartberg, linking the Little Karoo to the Great Karoo. He would later be instrumental in building the first road through the pass, which opened in 1858.” Source: De Rust Heritage – www.derustheritage.org.za 

---oOo---

Our destination would be the Traveling Tortoise. “A new off-the-grid eco-retreat situated only 10 km from the pretty town of De Rust in the Western Cape. The resort is set in the natural Klein Karoo veld, with stunning views from the decks of our mountain chalets. The pastoral, green Middelplaas valley lies ahead, the Red Stone Hills to the right, and the inspiring Swartberg behind. So, weary traveller, visit us and wind down. Do as the tortoise does – wind down slowly,” says Jeff. They are pet-friendly!

The owner, Jeff, previously worked in George, where he built private golf courses on the Garden Route, and now creates large cement installations, such as his green travelling tortoise, which graces the entrance to the farm! There are more scattered across the property. They are very hobbit-like and a delight to come across. It appears he single-handedly built his campsite and lodges. Quite an impressive feat, too. Jeff is very affable and accommodating and went out of his way to make our stay enjoyable.

We had access to solar-powered electricity during the day but had to rely on our own power source at night. This made watching the rugby a tad tricky, but not impossible! Fortunately, we had Wi-Fi for streaming. The Boks won!

Windless mornings enabled us to go on two long cycles; getting our limbs out on the road was pure bliss. We traversed the dirt roads between farms and labourers’ cottages, climbing hills with the assurance that every hill must eventually go down again. Butch rode solo while I hiked the mountain behind our truck. The veld was a fresh green after good rains, and the profusion of orange cacti blooms opened to welcome Sunbirds eager to feast on nectar. We spent two evenings beside a cement tortoise, enjoying magnificent sunsets, long walks and restful days. We enjoyed our stay and think this would be a child's dream destination.

I had reasonable showers; a lousy shower is my pet peeve. On my scale, I’d give it 2.5/5. (There's room for improvement.)

---oOo---

Every year on the 3rd of July, I celebrate another spin around the sun. Some years are good, and some aren't. Last year was wobbly, but by and large a good one; before I knew it, I was another year older. Much has changed, and my life was in turmoil for a while, but my ship is back on course, and I’m happy to report that I’m excited about the future.

Although I don’t fuss about my birthday, I like being spoilt. Butch did himself proud. He made coffee (he does so frequently), made the bed, and patiently waited for me to slap my face on before whisking me off to De Rust for lunch (in a truck, which is an exaggeration!).

Our destination was Pluim Eatery and Coffee Shop. My first impression was positive, and the Victorian homestead has been impeccably restored and curated. Tasteful art is scattered throughout the restaurant, gallery and stoep. Andries and Jan, the owners, were charming and made us feel at home immediately. Sunday lunch is served at a harvest table, and we were treated to delicious North African cuisine. The restaurant was buzzing with local patrons who must be Sunday regulars. We sat on the stoep, enjoyed the winter sun, and struck up long chats with other diners. (We are chatterboxes and enjoy meeting new folk.)

If your path meanders through De Rust, I’d say stop at Pluim to enjoy the ambience, the art and the people while you sip a coffee or try something delicious from the a la carte menu. You may take your tipple away with you, along with delicious olives, jams or pestos for your store cupboard.

Although we didn’t have the chance to explore the village this time, I recommend De Rust for a quiet, relaxing stay. Day trips to Oudtshoorn or Prince Albert are possible.

With the wind in our hair and a spring in our step, we set off for historical Graaff Reinet.

PS At 65, we come alive – watch this space.

---oOo---