In Phalaborwa we got the car washed, grabbed
some nibbles and quenchers and headed towards God's Window, a lookout in the
Blyde River Canyon. It "is one of the largest canyons on Earth,
and it may be the largest 'green canyon' due to its lush subtropical
foliage. It has some of the deepest precipitous cliffs of any canyon on
the planet. It is the second largest canyon in Africa, after the Fish River Canyon, and is known as one of the great wonders of nature on the continent." (Wikipedia) Leaving Phalaborwa, we
came across a truly grizzly sight. At
the very intersection where we had to turn left, there was a flurry of
activity. Police officers and paramedics
had just been attending the charred remains of two bakkies (vans) and two
larger container trucks. The
injured had already been carried away, thank heavens. There was nothing for it but to proceed through
the intersection, which had been mostly cleared, allowing at least a single
lane of cars to pass.
After some time cutting across flat country, we
reached the gorgeous canyon and drove along a magnificent mountain pass. Here we stopped to buy some curios on the
side of the road. Since neither of us
had thought of withdrawing money in Phalaborwa, this excursion left us
penniless. Never mind, the tank was full
and we'd certainly pass an ATM at some point.
As we pulled up at God's Window, it became clear that I had
underestimated the distances (or rather, Google Maps had misguided me regarding
expected travel times) and we had to enjoy the view in a bit of a hurry.
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From here, we headed via Graskop to PilgrimsRest. Exiting Graskop, we travelled past
a cycle race, gratefully coming into town and thus not in our way. But all day our advance had been impeded, caught
behind large trucks, and now we also had no chance of overtaking, what with the
energetic athletes consuming the oncoming lane.
No point getting upset, and Tonya had already gone back to bed in the
passenger seat. We made it in the early
afternoon, and I was really glad we'd come.
I had been here only once before, and indeed in the Kruger Park. This was when I was quite young. My mother had discontinued our annual holiday
to Durban, opting instead to see more of the country. As youngsters, we did not approve! No beach, no burying of siblings, no surf, no
amusement park and no candy floss! What
was the woman thinking? On that trip, my
attitude was not good, and I remember complaining in the park that we had
driven for hours and all we'd seen was buck.
My father did not respond well to my petulance. On the other hand, the images of God's
Window, Barberton and Pilgrims Rest remained etched in my mind, and now I
relished seeing this neck of the woods through the eyes of an appreciative
adult.
Pilgrims Rest arose out of the gold rush in the
1880s. At first, prospectors panned for
alluvial deposits, and later the mines went deeper to extract ore. Mining stopped in the 1970s. The town had remained mostly unchanged and
was sold to the government as a national museum. It is a well-preserved period town, and
rustically appealing. It became a
provincial heritage site in 1986.
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We had lunch at the
Royal Hotel. I had originally booked a
night for us in this establishment, but friends convinced me to spend more time
in the Kruger Park, and I am grateful we did.
Surprisingly, the menu was uninspired, and the schnitzel I ordered was
in no way remarkable. Afterwards, we
took a brief stroll among the shops, though we did not enter since neither of
us had any cash and there was no ATM in this town. We did watch a capricious monkey enter the hotel
we'd just vacated to steal some food off the buffet.
Returning towards Graskop, the cycle race was
thankfully over. Our next destination
was White River, and our route took us through the town of Sabie. We did not stop here, but what I saw was enthralling. I do wish we had had time to explore this
quaint settlement. Looked very
Bohemian. But I'd arranged to meet up
with Andrew and Nicky McArthur, whom I met in Taiwan. They returned to Johannesburg some eight
years ago, and recently moved to Mpumalanga where Andrew took up a teaching
post at Uplands College. They left
Taiwan so Nicky could pursue her dream of writing for magazines, and she is now
the jubilant editor of Lowveld Living. They are also the proud parents of two
energetic boys, Luke and Samuel. Sam was
having his dinner while we were there, which is to say, some morsels were
passing his lips while the rest was flung gleefully around the patio. While we chatted a buck ambled by in their
backyard. Both parents were just as I
remembered them, bubbly, fun and warm. They
were welcoming to Tonya, as I knew they would be, and she liked them instantly.
Finally it was time to make our way to
Nelspruit, where we would spend our last night in this province. We passed a hippo on the side of the
road! I really loved Mpumalanga, this
gem of nature. While the rest of the
country was dry and brown, here the vegetation grew lush and thick. The dramatic mountains we had come through
were intoxicating. I could definitely
see why people would want to call this home.
We arrived at Dome Home at 7:30pm.
The unique little cottages were delightful, and Tonya and I were both
grateful to have our own space once again. Our host, Helmut was in his 70s or 80s and he
was affable and welcoming. He had come
to South Africa from Germany decades earlier, just as my own dad had done. He spoke to me in Afrikaans and German, while
I replied mostly in English, with a little Afrikaans and German thrown in for
good measure. I have never been anywhere
near fluent in German - I studied the language for just one year at university
- but I do like to use my limited ability when the opportunity arises.
Friday was set aside for our return to OR Tambo
Airport in Johannesburg, whence we'd spread our wings, destination Cape
Town. Exiting Nelspruit, we spotted wild
horses on the side of the road in not one, but a few locations. Helmut had told us to look out for this. He'd also said something about a village that
was 'off the grid', but I couldn't quite make out the gist of it. Until we stumbled upon it. To the left of
our carriageway, slightly elevated atop a squat hill, something Bohemian caught
the eye. We initially elected to drive
on by, but then reconsidered and turned around.
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Entering the village through a single boom that
was weighted at one end to keep it permanently open, we were met by a motley
crew of homes, guest houses, workshops and restaurants, some designed to point
back to yesteryear, others eclectic and outlandish. We both liked it so much, that we dismounted
and took breakfast at Bohemian Groove Café.
The village was named Kaapsche Hoop, a play I guess on 'Cape of Good
Hope', odd being so very far away from the Cape.
Spirits high from this unexpected enchantment,
we got back on the road. The rest of the
trip to Tambo and on to Cape Town was ordinary, and there is nothing to report
about it.
