(Above, L to R): Jane and Shelley-ann in 1978; Two gorgeous ladies in 2021.

But before all that, a most considerate friend had offered us her guest cottage opposite Mum Judy's tiny abode. Our first task after returning from the Swartland was to move in with Emma, a task that might have been a little easier had I not already accumulated a mini wine collection.

Moments encapsulated

Many attractions of Hermanus lay within a short walk of Emma's. For the next few weeks we played at being tourists with all the delightful places we could either walk to or reach with a short car journey. Some pictures emerged but not much text.

The next section will be devoted to picture stories with not much more than a caption here and there. Following that, we'll start out on another road trip and kick off with more detail of the Jane and Shan reunion that forms the masthead of this episode. 

A story in pictures ...

The area around Hermanus is extraordinarily varied. In terms of botanical life on its own - there are said to be more species in the area than in the entire United Kingdom. And then there are the whales and the mountains adjacent to the sea. Beyond those mountains there are vineyards heading up the (Hemel-en-Aarde1) valley with rolling wheat fields towards its North Easter end. There is also the forgotten community of Tesselaarsdal ...
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This series of blog episodes has, more often than not, featured mountains. That's because there are a lot of them in Southern Africa, many of which line up along the East and then South coast. One of the places these mountains come closest to the sea is Hermanus. Viewed across the Old Harbour (below), a stretch of the town's waterfront is framed by a background of these majestic natural structures.  

(Top triptych, L to r): Sculpture of an elegant baboon2 couple looking out to sea across Walker Bay; Lovingly restored buildings at the Old Harbour; Street art livens up the bollards with the mountains omnipresent in the background. (Bottom triptych, at Emma's house, L to R): Shelley-ann opening birthday  presents with mother, Judy, and sister, Kerry, on the verandah of the guest cottage (more of the birthday further down in this episode); Emma silhouetted on her own verandah at the other end of the pool; the Moon and Venus see off the other light sources on a magically clear evening in the garden. 
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NSRI3 flare training

Fishing is a primary pastime for Kerry's family in Hermanus where the seas range between idyllic turquoise tranquility and terrifyingly grey, gale-induced cauldrons. She and husband, Chairman Tim, and sons, Andrew and Michael, were frequently to be found in and around the Walker Bay Boat and Ski-boat Club. Volunteering, fishing, mucking about in boats or propping up the bar. This particular evening they were to be trained in the proper use of distress flares by the NSRI ...

(Clockwise from top left): L-R Shan, Judy, Kerry (a.k.a. Kinks) and Packet; Fick's Pool could be anywhere in the world (typically, perhaps the Mediterranean) where a terrace sits above a beach or tidal pool open to all comers; Shan, Packet, Kinks, Susie and, at last (but not least), Tim enjoying beer, wine and sunshine at Fick's Pool the day before the main event; and on the actual day, lunch at La Vierge with views from the Hemel-en-Aarde valley all the way to the sea through a gap in the coastal mountains4.

Hemel-en-Aarde (extension)

​In relatively recent years the Hemel-en-Aarde valley has become, if there is such a thing, a rural metropolis of winemaking with wall-to-wall wine farms, including Restless River and La Vierge, lining the valley. It needs a blog of its own. This will be forthcoming, as will, one day, a proper blog about Tesselaarsdal, the place that more-or-less escaped Apartheid5, having been left in trust by an 18th Century landowning couple to their workers (probably read slaves).

Before we took time out to assimilate a comprehensive catalogue of the Hemel-en-Aarde's delights, Shan and I took a little time out to meander up the North Eastern end of this valley's evocative landscape.

At first, we were enticed into Tesselaarsdal because it was in the middle of nowhere. Then we came across this loosely packed community of eclectic buildings:

Moving further North East towards Stanford, both of us were moved by the moody rolling hills and their varied textures reflecting the cycles of agriculture in the area.

Bored penguins

During a previous expedition to the Cape, Shan and Kate (our daughter) had taken the opportunity, I suspect aided and abetted by Kinks, to visit the penguin colony at Betty's Bay. Shan was keen to take me there. I had seen a bunch of penguins in amongst the Boulders on the outskirts of Simonstown but, beguiled by my dearly beloved's tales of these avian busybodies scurrying about their daily business in their thousands, I happily went along for the ride.

If you have the option, don't go there in the moulting season (seemingly November into December). There were thousands of Penguins but the vast majority of them were standing around in bunches, looking depressed. And being very smelly. After we left, a couple of people I spoke to confirmed that this was a penguin thing6.

We did have an enjoyable light lunch in Kleinmond, followed by a scenic drive up to the Iona wine estate and a little beyond to gaze over the Grabouw/Elgin valley (partner/rival to Hemel-en-Aarde). 

(Top row, L to R): Betty's Bay Bleak House; Depressed penguins moulting on a slipway; (Middle row, L to R): Mountains across the bay viewed through a fissure in a century old oak post; at least two of the penguins had other things on their minds than being depressed ... necking in the sunshine, perhaps? (Bottom row, L to R}: A fine sweeping beach seen from an al fresco Kleinmond restaurant, with the Babilonstoring Mountains in the background; Elgin farms in the basin formed within the Hottentots-Holland mountains ... some fab wine farms down there to rival the Hemel-en-Aarde.

Bit of a shock re: visa extension

​When planning our much-postponed visit to South Africa we came across a little clause somewhere, which stipulated that we would have to obtain a visa extension to remain in the country for more than 90 days. This fell short of our 144 day duration. As is always our wont, we immediately assumed panic mode. The planning had been stressful enough anyway and here was another obstacle standing in our path. It may not sound like much, and perhaps it shouldn't have been, but the complete lack of coherent information had the makings of a nightmare.

Initially we were pointed at a South African government website that suggested it was a piece of cake and could all be done online. Whew, huge relief. The relief didn't last long ... only until we tried to follow the online instructions and were politely informed that the system had not been commissioned yet.

Who should we ask how to resolve this? Our carrier, British Airways, who had happily accepted a 5-month return flight, had no idea. The South Africa embassy in London was worse than useless (and quite rude to boot). We were abandoned to Googlesphere. Eventually following a path that seemed plausible we found someone that told us that we couldn't obtain an extension from outside of South Africa and would have to do it when we got there.

The most probable solution we'd been given was that, once we were in SA, we'd have to take our passports to an office of the Department of Home Affairs. If one chose the office carefully, one would have to join a queue that may take quite a few hours but the extensions would be appended there and then. The most convenient appropriate office was evidently in Caledon, which wasn't too bad, especially as I could combine a visit to the Tesselaarsdal section of the museum nearby. Do a bit of research and a visa extension in one 90 km round trip.

​We should've realised that things could never be that simple ... 7 

Forty years of friendship in abstentia.
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How to end this episode on an upbeat note? Well, that's the easiest question so far.

Once upon a time, in the beginning, Shan had been attempting over several forays to the Cape,  staggered over quite a few years, to hook up with one of her oldest and dearest friends from their jolling8 days in Joeys. Turns out the friend, Jane, has a restaurant in Kloof Nek with her husband, Solly. Said restaurant keeps them extremely busy and all attempts to join up in the past have ended in disappointment.

Enter Captain Markel. Through a few forays into Ms H's memory bank, managed to establish where Chez Solomon might be. Things became a bit easier from there and Captain M managed to contact Jane anonymously. We wanted to entertain six of our friends (two of whom were also relations). To cut a long story, and numerous calls to Jane, short, we ended up with a table for 4 for lunch on the first Wednesday in December. Shan was in the picture and Jane blissfully unaware.

Serendipitously, we would be staying a few nights with another friend of mine of many years. Must've been about 50 years I'd known Viv. She and her partner, John, were to be our guests at the Miller's Thumb and Viv had offered to drive so that Shan and I could celebrate our coup de grâce in style.

Viv, John, Shan and I were all in on the story but I suspect every one of us was a little apprehensive that the whole surprise could go horribly wrong. In the event it went off like a dream, give or take the odd happy tear and many, many hugs.

As is always the way with these things the tears shed were not in a miserable way, as can be seen from the pic at the outset of this blog. Sometimes the odd tear can be a gratifying thing especially when organising surprises.

​The food was bloody gorgeous BTW ... do try the Miller's Thumb in Kloof Nek Road.

​We contrived to return in the next episode. 

Coming soon

I did mention at the start that this episode was going to jump about a bit. Things start in one timeframe and continue into another. So the next few episodes will contain continuations of our forays into Restless River, La Vierge, staying with Viv in Muizenberg, lots more about Home Affairs and, inter alia, more bits and bobs about Hermanus and Tesselaarsdal ...

[Endnotes]:

1. Heaven and Earth
2. Baboons are part of the fabric of society in Hermanus. Treated sensibly, they are not dangerous but can be fairly destructive if they find an open window to your larder. It probably makes sense to avoid standing in the way of their escape route but it is difficult to find any evidence of harm visited on humans.
3. National Sea Rescue Institute
4. Photograph nicked/ripped from whalesandmore.com/advertiser/la-vierge​
5. The much reviled system of racially discriminatory government that prevailed in South Africa from 1948 to 1994 when the first universally franchised general election took place. The actual word means separateness.
6. Penguins www.capenature.co.za/uploads/files/Stony-Point_booklet_2022-03-28-133713_rfhd.pdf​ 
7. Next instalment on visa travails in the next blog episode
8. ​Seffrikkin for partying/clubbing

​

Broadly West of the Kasteelberg

This is where much of the Swartland royalty resides with names such as Mullineux, Sadie (x21), Wickens and Badenhorst dotting the landscape. From my perspective it had been impenetrable on my one previous visit. But this time I was better prepared, or was it to be another Nick Broomfield moment2?

Or perhaps a curate's egg. 

With our next 4 nights' accommodation already arranged and confirmed, we had some time for a western Swartland recce before check in. On the way we thought we'd look in at Jan Smuts' ancestral home, which is located within the grounds of a cement works at the North Eastern corner of the Kasteelberg. Turned out it was closed on account of the pandemic, which was a pity because I wanted to show Shan the humble beginnings of the man who'd had such an influence on global politics between 1919 and 1948.

We were, nonetheless, in a convenient place to pick up the road that snakes along the Western side of the Kasteelberg. Apart from the fact that the Riebeeksrivier road along the base of the mountain is uniquely lush and scenic for the area, I was hoping to pinpoint the Mullineux farm so that I could phone in the hopes of booking a tasting. If not of the Mullineux wines themselves (I'd previously done this in Franschhoek), then the recently launched Greatheart Wines facilitated by Andrea as a joint initiative with the workforce at the winery. 

The scenery must've distracted from our navigational capabilities because we arrived all too soon at the main road at the Southern end of the Kasteelberg without spotting the entrance. There was a consolation in that I was able to show my dearly beloved the scenery she'd painted, sight unseen, in her home-grown Fauvist style.

(Above L to R): The Jan Smuts house, from memory the far end was accommodation for animals; Shan's Fauvist view; the original photograph taken from the R46 near the top of Bothmanskloof Pass looking East; some of the Swartland crew (Hanneke Krüger, Jasper Wickens and Ryan Mostert) in Soho in 2019 - I'd met Ryan at an impromptu hoedown at the Wine Collective in Riebeek Kasteel a few months before the photo was taken.

Andrea can be forgiven for not immediately recognising her own home turf when seeing the two pictures in juxtaposition above, but it didn't take her too long to get it with a little prompting.

Left with some time to spare before checking in at Kalmoesfontein, we decided to head towards Malmesbury and see if we could get lunch at Bill & Co., owned by David and Nadia Sadie. I'd had a healthy and scrumptious salad there two years previously. Sadly it was closed permanently and we resorted to the Swartland Winery for a bite to eat and some jars of exotic chutneys.

​While we were eating our lunch, Shan asked:
"Remind me why we're going to a wine farm for 3 nights?"
I reminded her that the Badenhorst place was in an incomparable setting where she could paint and we (or I, if she chose to stay behind to focus on a landscape) could walk to various other wineries. We could also travel out by car to surrounding places of interest. I was excited. I'd been planning this for nigh on 2 years after it had been suggested by Hanneke in Soho. In fact, we'd originally booked for 4 nights but Covid ensured we had to be content with the 3 night slot a year later than originally planned.
"Please indulge me," I urged. "How often do I get to spend quality time in amongst real winemakers?"

And she did, because she's lovely and she knew how much it meant.

Kalmoesfontein

We arrived at the turn off for the Badenhorst place in the mid afternoon. Toyota doesn't make its bog-standard Corolla sedans like it used to do. To be honest the ground clearance was pitiful and exacerbated by the Avis get-out clause vis-à-vis insuring any underbody damage. Inching down the road, we finally thought we'd made it when we had to make a hard right and ascend an incline. We did reach our destination a few hundred metres further on but, suffice to say, I was looking forward with some enthusiasm to a glass of something VERY SPLENDID after we'd unpacked and jettisoned the car.

We followed the arrows from the car park to our accommodation where the key was in the door. And splendid accommodation it was, too. An eyrie above the whole complex in the top of an old silo. There was no one about and we ensconced ourselves in our gaff with sweeping views of the Swartland and the Elandsberg in the distance. At our feet was the old farmhouse with long views over the roof to Xanadu.

 (Above, clockwise from top left): Our gaff a.k.a. the Silo; Our view; Our pool; Our view after the clouds had lifted

In search of excellence​​ (a.k.a. something splendid)

Having kicked the tyres of our accommodation and its immediate surroundings, and after two years of waiting for Nirvana, I was raring to go. The sun was still above the yard arm so I thought I'd check out the communal areas in preparation for early doors. The farmhouse in front of us was open but deserted. I found a bar that looked inviting and resolved to return when I could hear some activity from below to lure me out from lurking in the Silo.

​When I had visited the Badenhorst table at the Soho gig in 2019 the place was rammed. Everyone wanted a piece of Adi. Hanneke had a few moments when I proffered my glass but there wasn't much chance of meaningful dialogue. There were just the two of them manning their stand. She could sense my disappointment: "You'll have to come and stay with us in the Swartland," she volunteered.

Shan and I had been contemplating a trip to the Cape the following year so I expressed an interest.
"Contact Semma at the farm, she'll sort you out," my new friend suggested. "Then we'll have time to show you around," adding that I should avoid harvest time. 

I contacted Semma, who recommended early November and it wasn't long before we'd secured 4 nights at the beginning of November 2020. Then Covid broke loose and we ended up settling eventually for 3 nights a year later. To say I was excited to be there was the understatement of 2021.

It wasn't too long before sounds could be heard of vehicles arriving in the parking below the Silo.  I maintained a decorous pause before venturing out towards the sounds of people drinking with obvious enjoyment. A fair-sized group was seated at refectory tables on the rear veranda of the farmhouse, adjacent to the bar. I squeezed past hoping to order a drink but there was no-one currently serving. After waiting a while it became obvious that no-one was going to be and I slunk back to the Silo and a half-full bottle we'd brought with us from Riebeek Kasteel. Probably made some inroads into a complementary bottle of Papegaai, too.

​The next day we walked an inner circle on the estate before presenting ourselves for the lunch we'd paid for and were hoping to share with the winemaking community on the farm. After that I would be having a wine tasting for a little extra. The food was excellent and we ate ours at our assigned table in splendid isolation with a wonderful view over towards the Elandsberg. The winemakers were at their own table on the other side of the verandah. I hung around after the meal as arranged (Shan went off to read) until I was asked if it was OK to come back a little later because I was the only one signed up for the tasting. Would I mind waiting for another family to arrive. Of course I wouldn't so I headed off back to the Silo. When the others arrived, it turned out that the predominant other was a chap out from Scandinavia setting up a wine-importing business. It was interesting to chat to him while Hanneke ran through the few wines we were to taste.

I kind of forget which ones they were but probably the reds and the younger whites in the lineup below.

You could say I'm a bit of a fan. Here are examples of the varieties and their variants (excluding the few bottles of Secateurs, Papegaai and Curator) that are currently in our "cellar" in the UK.

It was all over pretty quickly as my tasting companion had to move on to another gig. While Hanneke was packing up I asked her casually about the fun and games the night before. Evidently it had been great fun and many of the participants were suffering the consequences.

Actually even more splendid than mere mortals could comprehend

She then volunteered a story which I really wish she hadn't. Evidently a wealthy Dutchman who had been living in Durban had decided to return to live in the Netherlands. He was a wine collector of some repute, including as the owner of one of the world's largest collections of Romanée-Conti. This collector had made the decision to repatriate with the finest vintages to his home country. The remainder had been distributed to a group of close friends with the proviso that they would not sell it on but would share it with other friends who would appreciate it.

The wine being drunk in Kalmoesfontein the night before had been part of the consignment that had remained in South Africa.

"What was it like?" I asked her.
"Absolutely wonderful, out of this world," she replied (maybe not in those exact words but you get the gist).

So, the upshot of the story is that, while I was sidling round the bar the night before to see if I could get some special Badenhorst Brew, the occupants of the rear verandah would have been in a state of RC oblivion.

Striking out from the Badenhorst estate

When we had realised that striking out from Kalmoesfontein in our woesy Corolla was not going to be a thing, we refocused on places we could walk to. First on the list was David and Nadia across the road. I'd spoken to them at the Swig do, too, and they'd encouraged me to visit the farm. When I contacted them, they apologised. Sadly they'd be too busy that week.

Eventually, Shan and I decided to settle for a walk up the valley into the Paardenberg. There were some wineries up there, most significantly the Swerwer estate. It was a lovely day and we could just go out and have a look at what was available. But first there were the geese. Shan is not generally a scaredy-cat but for some reason these large birds had always gone for her since time immemorial. Not in a friendly way. So, understandably, she has developed a bit of a phobia.

(Above, clockwise from top left): Those geese weren't going to allow Shan to take her chosen path; the detour took us past some cuter aquatic birds but why was only one of them yellow?; David and Nadia signposted to the left ; The road winds up the picturesque valley and then stops at the Paardenberg.

After detouring around the geese, following a gentle route to the David and Nadia sign, standing back to let a pickup turn in to the side road and being thanked by the occupants (did I detect a Sadie in there?), we continued walking up the Paardenberg road. It was warm and peaceful with an eclectic mix of dwellings along the way. The only entrance beyond the Sadie's that appeared to be wine related was to the Swerwer winery, a few kilometres further on. The sign was a little discouraging and my Long Covid was beginning to make itself felt so we turned for home. Actually, I was being chivalrous because Shan had become nervous about the baboons barking nearby.

(Above, top two rows): some eclectic housing. (Bottom row L to R): No Swerwer today; a puppy at the Badenhorst farm at lunch time that looked achingly similar to our granddog, Georgie, inducing a pang of nostalgia.

Leaving Kalmoesfontein

I was a little sad to leave. For most of our stay we'd been the only guests and I had hoped to be able to say hello to Adi. We did cross paths in a doorway at lunch time but he seemed on a mission so I stepped back, unacknowledged, to let him past. I bought some of the vintages I'd tasted and collected a bottle of her own wine from Hanneke to take to our next winemaker, Francois Haasbroek.

After extricating the car from the farm road we took a quick drive along the road we'd walked the day before. We wanted to see how much further we could have gone had I not run out of steam. Don't mention the baboons. Not much further, as it turns out. While making an awkward U-turn opposite the JC Wickens entrance, a bakkie3 approached from the homestead. Its occupants gave us some space to complete our manoeuvre and when it was possible, they drew alongside and asked if they could help. I told them we'd been staying at the Badenhorst place and recalled a bit about our walk the day before.

"You should have dropped by," she replied with a cheery wave before heading off down the road.

​Probably the best wine tasting ever, a wish fulfilled

We set our satnav for the De Meye estate, the current (at the time) home of Blackwater Wines. I'm not sure Francois would approve of his Blackwater brand being described as "boutique" but he has his fingers in a growing mound of many pies and this was the current pinnacle.