Text and pictures by Nicholas Yell
Source: This article was taken from the June 2011 issue of Country Life
I’d been searching the Internet for Iris for quite some time, so when I finally got to see her in the flesh, I was pretty excited.
The Mercedes W123 was arguably the most reliable and successful vehicle ever sold in South Africa. They were especially popular with farmers, many of whom believed that their Mercs handled the gravel roads better than their bakkies – and that’s just what I needed.
Driving along such a road – the 40km of good gravel track between Stilbaai and Gouritsmond – in my ‘antique’ Merc, I notice an example of an early Boer settler’s house. I get out the car and crunch across the road to take a closer look. barn-shaped, with a triangular gable on each end, it’s made out of what I assume to be local stone, timber and thatch. Certainly, the thatch must be local as the region is well-known for its plentiful supply of ‘dekriet’ – a variety of Cape reed used for roofs. It has two disproportionately small shuttered windows (most early settlers couldn’t afford glazing), one on either side of the stout, wooden front door. and even though it is sandwiched between two more modern-looking labourers’ cottages, the scene still makes me think of the tough Afrikaner pioneers who came to farm cattle here on the quit-rent system in the late 1720s.
They would have come into contact with the Gouriqua Khoi, who watched over their fat cattle along the banks of the Gourits river, as well as occasional strandlopers on the nearby shorelines and then, of course, there were the scattered San clans who still hunted game in the vicinity.
After watching a succession of clean breaking waves roll up the tranquil river mouth at Gouritsmond, I take a slow drive up the coastal gravel road that heads west towards Stilbaai. I’m heading for a place called Borrelfontein (a bubbling spring that gave rise to a small farming settlement) where I’ve been told there is a choice of rustic self-catering chalets for hire. En route, I stop off at one of the many picnic spots and appreciate the numerous artistic installations of oxidized orange boulders that lead my gaze to the sea. Their colouring makes me think of the ochre used by early man in his attempts to decorate ornaments in a lasting and artistic fashion. Pieces of this ochre and other fascinating artefacts have been uncovered at the now famous Blombos Cave, just outside Stilbaai. Some of the ochre found there was engraved with geometric patterns and dated at more than 70 000 years old, showing scientists that early man was able to perform tasks requiring complicated abstract thinking far earlier than previously thought.
Continuing down this pristine coastline, I scan for the ancient Khoi fish traps that I know must be hiding here somewhere, but find none. Instead I watch the surging tide turn to froth in numerous tiny coves, the occasional cottage punctuating the coastline with a stark modernity. Ten kilometres out of Gouritsmond I come across the first of two prefab bungalows, a very home-made sign announcing that I’ve arrived in Borrelfontein. but after walking around a collection of old lime-washed buildings, the only life I find is an excitable sheepdog kept occupied by its own pet sheep.
With the sun fast approaching the horizon, I decide to seek lodgings elsewhere. On the way back from checking out some pricey accommodation on the Kanonpunt peninsula in the east, I remember someone telling me about a quaint country hotel in nearby Albertinia. Recalling that it was also reputed to serve the most delectable food in the region, I opt to trade the alikreukels (periwinkles) I’d hoped to dine on for the comforting promise of good hotel food and views of flaming Karoo aloes instead. That’s the beauty of not booking accommodation ahead, you always land up just where you should be. Well, that’s certainly the way I feel while checking into the Albertinia hotel later that evening. With a table d’ hôte menu as long as my arm, a good wine list, welcoming staff and an expressive fat cat named daisy, I feel right at home.
Many modern travellers pass Albertinia by, seemingly lured by the brighter lights of Mossel Bay just down the road. What they don’t realise, and what’s not readily apparent from some of Albertinia’s industrial-looking roadside businesses off the N2, is that there’s a town full of old-world character and restaurants just a kilometre away. Yet apparently even the enigmatic Koos Kombuis battled to get himself to turn in here. When he eventually visited the hotel for lunch one day, he remarked, “It was strange to turn in there. For the first time in my life I actually drove into Albertinia – and I’m an old Riversdaler (not far away).”
The main reason those in the know have been turning off here for over a hundred years is to sample the Albertinia hotel’s excellent fare. H.V. Morton, in his late 1940s South African travelogue, In search of South Africa, said of the 13 course menu, “there is something Homeric about these great repasts in small hotels.” Yet the epic nature of the meal certainly didn’t seem to put Morton off, as he ‘plunged into that riot of eatables.’ and the beauty of this old account is that little has changed, so gourmands still journey from far and wide to sample the superb food.
After dinner I head for a nightcap in the characterful Koringdraai Public bar. It apparently got its name from the many wheat (koring) farmers who, tired and thirsty from standing in line to sell their produce at the co-op all day, would take a draai (turn) to the pub for some refreshment. and it’s here that I meet the hotel’s charismatic owner, Des Smith.
“Ja, Nick. In the old days when people drove slower cars and had to wait for the rivers to subside at the drifts along the way, this hotel was the ideal halfway point on the two-day journey between PE and Cape town. But now we mainly get independent foreigners, as well as those south Africans who haven’t forgotten how to take their time, and, of course, those who love their food!”
“Talking of drifts, I’ve read there was once a particularly harrowing drift over the Gourits nicknamed ‘die hel’ – apparently not too far from here,” I comment”
“I think that was the infamous Outenikwa drift and, if I’m not mistaken, that’s the crossing that had a small travellers’ lodge on either side of the river. If it’s the one I’m thinking of, rumour has it that the smouse (traders) often had to wait so long there that the ladies of the night did a roaring trade. But there were many drifts around here, each with their own intriguing stories.”
After an early morning walk through the old town and a chat to a former SAR railways steward manning a Chinese-stocked clothing store – he started his working life in the dining cars of the trans-Karoo in the early 1960s – I tuck into a full English breakfast back at the hotel. Apart from being advised to visit at least one of the two aloe factories on the outskirts of town, I’d also been told to check out the Albertinia Museum. At the latter venue I discover a treasure chest of Afrikaner memorabilia: an ox wagon, a Cape cart, antique implements, clothing and equipment, hundreds of photographs of the town and its founders – all clamouring for their place in the dusty annals of a bygone era.
I leave Albertinia with a bulging stomach and much new-found knowledge of the town and its peoples. I also carry away a healthy supply of aloe gels, creams and soaps, but probably the most important thing I take with me is fond memories of the interesting people I’d met. Something you can’t experience unless you’re prepared to slow down and turn off that addictive blacktop.
| More info on the town of Still Bay | More info on the Garden Route area |
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