Elaine and Randy had asked for COLOR (see Rainbow Nation post). They kept getting it!!! These photos were taken at Storms River Mouth. Our cottage looked out at the scene below.
The Aloes were just coming into full bloom.
They attracted more than us.
Sunbird on Aloe
A good camouflage ... if you are on an aloe!
We set off on a healthy hike along the coast to the Waterfall
Even the rocks are colorful
This is part of the Garden Route -- Calla Lilies grow wild
Exploring a cave en route -- see how small Randy looks
The rub of water on stone
The star of this underwater show (a rock pool near the cave)
Looking back along our route
Finally we reach the waterfall and settle down to enjoy our picnic. I would normally just toss in an apple and a handful of nuts and dried fruit, but Elaine had taken charge.... We eat well.
A rainbow shimmers above the lip of the waterfall. Its reflection in the pool below almost more substantial than the real thing.
We sit in silence, surrounded by the sound and movement of water. It falls loudly in front of us and swirls in patterns at our feet to find its way through other rocks, other mini watefalls down to the ocean which crashs at our backs. Constantly advancing and receding. Claiming this new water for its own.
A kiss of salt.
We are silently watched as we wind back through a dense patch of forest
Watched also by this female bushbuck
But she is more interested in her nosh
Standing on our cottage patio -- the day ends, color keeps coming
Wine glasses in hand, we settle down to a sumptuous meal. It is shortly after two o’clock in the afternoon. We begin with sweet potato and lentil soup with freshly baked bread, still hot from the open wood fired oven. Then we dine on Kudu sirloin with tarragon cream sauce, pampoen poffertjies (pumpkin fritters), slaphaakskeentjies (pickling onions cooked in a sweet and spicy cream sauce), and some broccoli to feel a little virtuous. Finally we indulge in sinfully delicious Malva pudding with crème anglaise.
We have made the entire meal ourselves. In a manner of speaking, of course --- it would not have been possible without the expert and relaxed help and guidance of our instructor, Jeremy Freemantle. It has all been enormous fun. We are at African Relish, a recreational culinary school in Prince Albert.
White stones on a hill top -- typical town markers in the Karoo
African Relish Cooking School
African Relish
All attention on Jeremy
The school is flooded with air and light
This was a private lesson for the four of us: me and Graham and our friends, Elaine and Randall (visiting from Durham, North Carolina). We had the entire cooking school to ourselves from early morning til after we had finished our leisurely meal mid afternoon. We had chosen to prepare a menu typical for the Karoo -- this dry, arid part of the country. There is something deliciously incongruous about finding a culinary school of such caliber and style in this small, remote and totally charming town of Prince Albert (about 4 hours drive from Cape Town).
Let the fun begin
My husband, Graham, a master at keeping many pots on the go!
Wine break
Gay's dairy at the edge of town -- source of the rich cream in our meal
There is something very special and authentic about Prince Albert. Being there is like stepping back in time and geography. Ancient rugged mountains rise at one side of the town and at the other the arid Karoo stretches empty into the distance. A white-washed church dominates the small town, water out of the mountains still flows down stone channels at the sides of streets to feed small private dams. There are thorn trees and windmills, a good art gallery, olive groves, bougainvillea-splashed guest houses and several atmospheric restaurants and coffee shops.
At the base of the Pass -- see the rock cross above me
Walking at sunset above the town
There is something about the clarity and quality of the light, the way it plays on
the mountains at the edges of the day and makes things sharp edged and unequivocal,
drawing the eye to examine all it sees, reconnecting one to nature.
There is a particular Karoo aesthetic. it is pared down and celebrates the beauty in simplicity,
in nature. Nothing gushy or ornate or unnecessary. It is in perfect step with the
spare harsh beauty of the environment ---clean cut, basic, true.
comment:
"This is one of the most beautiful journal posts I have read. I appreciate your attention and insight to your African Relish and Prince Albert experience. For international guests to to feel so immersed and appreciate not only the culinary but also the town and surroundings so much is really gratifying to us; the owners of African Relish. Thank you. Lisa Key"
“I crave color. Give me color.” Elaine pleaded. She and her husband Randall had just arrived from China where they’d been for the past two months. They complained about the drabness, the lack of color, not seeing a blue sky for weeks. They had come to South Africa for a 3 week vacation.
These photos were taken on Elaine and Randy’s second day in South Africa. There were six of us hiking in the mountainous Jonkershoek Nature Reserve close to Stellenbosch, about 30 minutes from our house. We were the only ones on the trail.
There were times on our walk when we saw several rainbows at once. The moist air and towering mountains seemed to be a playground for them. Baby rainbows practiced at the base of mountains showing off their perfect small arcs, brilliant slices of rainbow clung to the sides of sheer cliffs, magnificent rainbows in their prime rose high in the air and doubled themselves in mirror image - 14 arcs of pure colour. Pots of gold everywhere.
There was magic in the air. A special luminescent presence.
“You know what would make this better?” Nancy asked me as we drove along the Garden Route on a crystal blue morning. “What?”, I asked, hesitation in my voice. “Nothing”, she sighed with contentment, leaning back in her seat and looking out at the view. Mountain ranges, thick forests, sudden great sweeps of ocean.
Another day she said she had good news and bad. The good news was that she was having a most marvelous time. The bad news was that she was already missing it, even though she wasn’t leaving yet.
It’s always interesting to see a place you know through the eyes of newcomers. On the way to drop Nancy at Cape Town airport for her flight back to Boston, she told me how she had been struck by the gentleness and friendliness of interactions between people – she had noticed this in stores and restaurants and at the airport.
View as you wait for your flight
My sister-in-law chuckled as she pulled me aside to share a comment Nancy had made
about South Africans "always hugging and always want to go for a walk".
When I was 17 I left Johannesburg and went as an AFS student (American Field Scholar) to live in Chicago for a year. My host family took me to Miami for a holiday. I sent glossy postcards (of highrises, palm trees, colorfully populated beaches) to my family in South Africa. They mailed me photos of their holiday at Natures Valley. A small wooden house at the edge of a red dirt road --the house barely visible in the thick forest which rose steeply up the mountain behind. A long sweep of beach, deserted except for my two brothers and sister standing proudly next to the intricate sand dribble castle they had built.
That was my family’s first holiday at Nature’s Valley. It would take two days to drive down from Johannesburg and we would rent a house for several weeks. There was no electricity. At night we sat around the scrabble board with the whiff of paraffin lamps and the occasional sizzle as a moth got too close to the flames. From the beach you could see no sign of habitation. Dunes hid the houses. There were no high-rises. As you walked the long golden beach all you saw were densely forested mountains, the wide lagoon where the river gathered before it emptied to the sea and dramatic high cliffs plunging into the ocean. The lagoon was warm and gentle, the color of whiskey. The sea was untamed – blue and turquoise with the white foam of crashing breakers.
I holidayed there with my family during my university years. It was at Nature’s Valley that I announced my engagement in 1974 – showed off the little ring Graham and I had chosen in an outdoor flea market in London. I was living in England at the time and had escaped a raw winter to join my family at the Valley. And then, in the 1980ies it was to Nature’s Valley that I took my young children, fleeing the chill of Canadian and New England winters to head to the southern tip of Africa. We picnicked at the side of the lagoon, my children chased seagulls, braved the waves, build castles of sand. Came to know their grandparents.
In the room where I am typing this now, is a painting my mother did of a picnic at the edge of the lagoon – champagne in evidence at my back, my daughter raising a glass in a toast and several renditions of my son at different ages.
By Shirley Bell
Until this trip I hadn’t been back to Nature’s Valley in well over 10 years. Wild Spirit, the backpackers lodge where we stayed is deep in the Tsitsikamma Forest in the mountains above Nature’s Valley. From here, to get to the Valley you either drive down the winding pass (more than 30 sharp bends if I recall) or make a day of it and hike steeply down a narrow trail.
I have taken both of these routes in the past month.
In April, Nancy and I drove down, slowing around the hairpin turns; remarking on the Spanish moss hanging off towering old trees, pausing to watch a troop of baboons – swaggering males, tiny clinging babies. We meandered along the edge of the lagoon and walked along the tide-packed sand to picnic at the base of the cliffs. I climbed up to the top for the view using the path which marks one end of the Otter Trail. (This challenging and spectacularly beautiful trail between Natures Valley and Storms River Mouth is internationally renown. It takes 3 days and needs to be reserved well in advance.)
Lagoon at Nature's Valley
Nancy at the edge of the lagoon
Cliffs at the start of the Otter Trail
On my way up
Spot me -- a turquoise speck
The View! Worth the climb.
And then just a few days ago I was back in the area and, this time, hiked down to Natures Valley from the top of the pass with my daughter and two friends from Durham, North Carolina. We passed through high protea fynbos and dense forest, boulder hopped along a rushing stream and then paused in awe beneath ancient giant Yellowwood trees. We ate our well deserved picnic lunch on the beach under the hopeful eye of a large, perfectly groomed seagull who chased off any other would- be- contenders. Our return trail to the top of the pass was at the far end of the wide bay. We passed a huge beached jellyfish, kept our eye out for dolphins and didn’t see another soul on the beach.
Nor could we see a house. There are still no high-rises, still only the one small shop at the end of the valley we used to walk to to buy basic supplies and candy treats. From the beach, Nature’s Valley looks just as it did when I first went there more than 40 years ago. There are a few informational signboards near the lagoon about birds and rare endemic insects but otherwise it feels like the world has stood still here. Thankfully, reassuringly, still.
A timeless rootedness, like the Yellowwood giants, like memory.
