I am of the opinion that road trips, anywhere, especially a long drive in the Karoo is a wonderful balm for tired limbs, a broken heart, grief or plain exhaustion – it is a very good “pick me up”.
A few weeks ago we decided that we needed a Karoo trip – some healing and restitution.
Joking about searching for that elusive road between nowhere and nothing we set off – our proposed journey would take us inland, in other words the back roads, from GQ to Clanwilliam – visiting places like Graaff Reniett, Murraysburg, Victoria West, Loxton, Williston, Calvinia and Clanwilliam.
It is not my intention to write a travelogue of towns and dorps, including places of interest, other than to make a few observations and one or two recommendations. Loxton, in our opinion is a fabulous place to visit and Calvinia has a very interesting museum, housed in the former art deco styled Jewish synagogue built in 1920 – a worthy and interesting place to visit.
Despite travelling over 800 kms in two days, in a heat wave of 40 + degrees, we so enjoyed meandering along watching clouds, sheep, chatting to shepherds and waitresses, shop assistants, folk standing about on the pavement – anyone who was keen for a bit of an interaction. We dawdled and laughed and generally have fun.
Although we were grieving, we needed to laugh, smile, and celebrate life, whilst respectfully remembering two people we loved and cherished, and will always do so. We were hoping and praying that our final destination in the Biedouw Valley, where we had planned to spend four days, would offer a well-earned rest and respite from the complexities of life. We were looking forward to exploring neighbouring towns, dorps and places of interest, and I was keen to experience watching the sun rise over the veldt as well as indulge in some birdwatching.
Arriving in Clanwilliam, mid-afternoon in extreme heat we set about looking for directions to our accommodation in the Biedouw Valley. I must admit that both of us started feeling a little bit uneasy, we had, during the course of the day tried to contact our host, to no avail.
According to our knowledge this place (which shall remain nameless) was supposedly situated 44 kms outside of Clanwilliam. We asked around for directions, and yes we tried googling and phoning – niks, nothing!. Finally, one of the managers in the Spar had an inkling about where this place was situated and gave us some vague directions.
This is a respectable blog, so I will not swear – other than to say we started getting very twitchy and nervous. We headed off in the general direction – somewhere between nowhere and nothing – nêrens en êrens.
We started driving – I won’t bore you with the details – it was a long drive covering a distance of 73 km (2 hours driving time) over two passes made up of a tar road and a dirt road. Finally after opening and closing umpteen gates and stopping a few times to ask for directions we finally arrived at our destination.
Our usual chirpy humour failed us horribly – our final destination was not what we expected. Outside and inside temperature plus 43 degrees – no air-conditioning and wait for it, one tiny fan the size of a small plate, the swimming pool was a joke and no Wi-Fi! After a very hot and uncomfortable night we hotfooted it out of that place at sunrise and headed back to Clanwilliam, whereupon I apologised to George for shouting at him in the middle of the night – simply because my face was as red as a beetroot and all I wanted to do was hit something (preferably someone like the owner of the joint).
We headed back to Clanwilliam where our faith in humanity was restored and we continued looking for the elusive êrens and nêrens. I do believe that we were very close to finding nêrens – a little place called Klawer.
As we made our way down the West Coast, George promptly reminded me that I sure had a nerve to shout at him, after all I had placed his life in mortal danger by entertaining and engaging with a very strange woman who owned a shop in one of the small, but lovely dorps, we passed through en-route Langebaan.
Well, I really thought this lady was lovely and she was lonely and needed a listening ear – she told me that her father had died and then her stepmother and her brother all within a period of 18 or so months.
I was mesmerized and hung onto every word – George was not too sure about all or any of this and very gently suggested that we leave as we still had quite a way to go, walked with decorum and hot footed it out of town. In George’s defence he is a very astute judge of character, and over the years I have learned to listen to his judgement, as I on the other hand take things at face value and am so quick to believe anything.
I sometimes get the impression that these little dorps hold wonderful secrets and interesting people, some who are running away from something and others who are longing to escape the boredom of a small town and who long for the bright lights and freedom.
The lesson learned from all of our sojourns along highways, dirt roads and sandy tracks is that we live in a beautiful country and in the main people are so kind, welcoming and warm.
The other lesson is that grief needs an outlet and the Karoo graciously allowed us to express our sadness at loss and even more importantly it’s a reminder that memory is a wonderful thing as it allows one to simply remember the good times.
The road between niks and nêrens is somewhere and êrens – go and find it, I promise you won’t be disappointed.
