Leaving the Garden Route and going inland was viewed with consternation by some. "Ach. There is nothing to see that way. You should go back via the coast". Or "There is nought but empty space out there". It's true, there is lots of wide open space in the Northern Cape, but its also peppered with gorgeous valleys, hills and quirky little towns.
Broken Hill and Coober Pedy are two examples on the home continent, but it seems that across the world the weird, the wonderful and the creative find inspiration and comfort in environments harsh and beautiful. Which may explain some of the folk we've crossed paths with...or even our own delight at being out west.
The inland trek started in Baviaanskloof, a 205km 4wd trail stretching through the middle of a park with the same name. Phenomenal views and a heart pulsing track awaited, but first we had to get through the gate. A tiny ancient ranger greeted and put fear of all things into us before we were admitted. With his quiet, breathless voice he explained that the road was "Very bad. Very bad. You must be careful". When asked if it was worse than the corrogated track we'd navigated getting in, a hesitant "Oh yes. Oh yes, much worse. You must be careful. You must be very careful of the buffalo too". Regaling us with horrific tales of how a buffalo would put its horns through the car and kill us if it smelled us, he presented us with a brochure, outlining just how dangerous the buffalo were and exactly how to avoid them. They love hiding in reeds and accosting passers-by.
People in positions of authority with a hint of nervousness about them make things seem extremely bad, no matter how good they may be. It's safe to say that when we came across a swamp that needed crossing, with reeds blocking vision at all points, the adrenalin was pumping and at least one member of this duo thought they were about to meet their maker on an angry buffalo horn.
We didn't even see a buffalo in the end, at least not until we arrived at Addo Elephant Park days later. There, one did come close enough to put his head through the car, and we snapped a few quick shots before fleeing - adrenalin flowing again after such a near death experience. Later, a guide laughed off our newfound buffalo phobia "Ach. They're quiet as here. You won't have any problem". Just like a cows apparently.
Camdeboo, the park surrounding Graaff-Reinet, yielded our first wilderbeest and secretary birds. We met some wise overlanders to swap stories with, who jovially expressed little faith in our big Landy. We're still hoping that kind words and optimism will see her through the trip.
Further in was colourful Neiu Bethesda, a dirt street town featuring arts, crafts and the sad story of a lady who made concrete owls then topped herself. She's the reason it's on the map, though we didn't know that then. We arrived for the Two Goats Deli, a tiny place that made cheese and beer on the edge of the middle of nowhere. We stayed because the place was so delightful it warranted a few days to get to know.
Having eaten our way through Nieu Bethesda, we set sights on a park called Doornkloof; an oasis attracting South African tourists from around the country, come to enjoy water frontages, fishing, boating and stunning scenery when the river is flowing.
Which it wasn't.
Arriving unannounced, we created quite a stir. "There's no water!" We were told. That was ok - we had our own. Apparently we didn't understand. The river had no water. That was ok with us too, which caused much puzzlement among concerned staff. They called their boss on the UHF, obviously explaining that these two crazy foreigners had just shown up to the park and they didn't understand that there was no water. We understood, we just didn't mind. After some indistinguishable radio chatter, one staffer got in a car to go and see the boss in person. We waited. She returned, again explaining that there was no water. We said that we don't have fishing rods and weren't so interested in the water. Could we still stay?
This was obviously very entertaining. Bustling metropolis when the river flows it may be, but the water stopped at Christmas and so did the tourists. Whilst the staff relented, they were giggling. As we asked questions about animals in the park, giggles turned to laughter. We realised that they could barely understand us, and quite clearly thought us crazy. Absolutely no one visits when there is no water. Except us. Turned out to be a great place, water or not. The animals were many AND we had an entire National Park to ourselves!
Things only got stranger when we arrived in style at Petrusville. Style, because Nikita was at the wheel and her first attempt at parking landed us up on the gutter. On the map it looked like a town of significance and we'd planned to stock up on supplies. In reality it only stocked chicken feet, chicken gizzards, necks and livers. And a pumpkin. So we left with a pumpkin and headed for nearby Vanderkloof.
The guidebook said Vanderkloof had turned workers huts from the construction of its almighty dam into a now- resort. What we showed up to was a ghost town. Remnants of former glory abounded - cafés, chalets, puttputt and a waterpark were all covered by long grass, bushes and the dilapidated appearance that comes from neglect. Waterside was a campground. Huge trees and green lawns begging to be used. Guys were fishing at the lakes edge, and we asked if there was anywhere to camp. "Here!" Was the jovial reply. With questioning, laughing and utter assurance, he explained that we could stay. No charge, no problem and no one would bother us. When another car rolled up we asked again if we could stay, still confused. The man inside the car gestured around. "This is what happens when you leave the city. He said. "Nothing works. Stay. Nobody will bother you".
So, for the first time in South Africa, we are freedom camping. At an abandoned resort. It's the Easter weekend, the place is empty. Green with water views, we've settled in to make pumpkin soup and so far, nobody has bothered us.
