Towards the beginning of ’81 Ray (my hubby) bought a Honda 400, which I learned to ride. I got my licence at the end of September that same year. We started going on breakfast runs on Sundays with a group of bikers, me riding pillion. We soon found out that our bike was not powerful enough to keep up with the others, and Ray traded it in for a Kawasaki 1100. Things went better for a while.
Sometime later, Ray saw an advertisement for a Kawasaki 1300 fuel injection at a bargain price – this was a ‘must have’, so a trade-in was arranged. Our Dream Bike had arrived! This bike brought us thousands of kilometres of pleasure.
At first we were content to go on our breakfast runs with the gang. Later, Ray’s best friend Roelf was asking us to go with him and his then girlfriend (later to become his wife) on weekends away to the Eastern Transvaal, as it was still called back then. We complied with alacrity. Many, many long weekends were spent exploring the magnificent countryside of the Eastern Transvaal in tandem with Roelf and his lady-friend. Roelf rode an almost identical bike, so we were evenly matched.
The last jaunt that I can remember, took place over an Easter long weekend. We had all managed to ‘beg off work’ early on Thursday, in an attempt to beat the usual traffic rush. We had booked in together at the Blyde River Canyon Nature Reserve. We were promised that this was off the beaten track, and very secluded – no electricity, no phones (this was before the advent of cell phones), and no tarred roads. That promise was kept! We didn’t even see any neighbours, if there were any ... the chalets were so far apart and surrounded by tall trees.
On our arrival, we actually missed the turn off to the Nature Reserve as it was marked with only a tiny sign post. It cost a few passes, before the men spotted it. We turned into a narrow sand road, which wound between dense acacia trees and even denser thorn bushes. The winding road was treacherous with deep sand in places, but we reached the main office without serious mishap. A large brown dog ran out to greet us, barking a warning to his master. The ranger dressed in typical bush attire descended the wooden steps from his office, beaming his welcome.
We were shown to our rondawel, which to our delight, was built around an old but living tree. The dining table had the bole of the tree as a centre-piece, with rough hewn wooden benches around it. On the table was a wooden bowl full of fresh fruit, packaged in cellophane. The ranger kindly advised that we put the fruit away, before the monkeys descend to pilfer it.
Roelf and his lady opted to take the smaller bedroom down-stairs, which left us with an oversized bedroom upstairs. Our double bed faced west, with a huge picture window plumb in front of the bed. None of the windows were glazed – all open to the veldt scented exterior; only wooden shutters to close in case of rain. Next morning on awakening, still lying in bed, we discovered that we had a magnificent view from our window – the sun rose behind us, casting its first rays onto the mountain tops framed by the window.
Our kitchen, if it could be called that, was tucked into a corner. It contained the smallest sink I have ever seen, plus an equally small chest type freezer and a two plate gas cooker. The two of us (ladies) hardly fitted in the kitchen together, and we were both slender. The shower and separate privy were open to the sky – not even doors on them. The shower-heads were fastened to gnarled branches – very rustic. The toilets, to our delight, were modern porcelain fixtures. These facilities were about ten meters off and accessed by way of a narrow flagstone path which was quite tricky at night. They were each surrounded by high walls of reeds lashed together, with a convoluted bit at the entrance, to ensure privacy. The thought of dual moonlit showers danced through our minds (with our own partners, of course.) We were entranced!
We were very surprised to find that there were no locks of any kind on the doors or cupboards. Being used to secure everything back home, we were somewhat anxious about this matter. The ranger assured us that theft was almost unheard of it those parts, and the help around there were utterly trustworthy – it turned out that he was right, thank goodness!
Off to our right, about twenty meters distant, was a boma. This was a specially cordoned off and cleared area surrounded by a high wall of vertical sticks, for the sole purpose of making a braai (BBQ) and/or potjie (food simmered in a cast iron pot[usually with dumplings]over an open fire). We were informed that the firewood would be replenished each morning.
We had enquired of the ranger, where the nearest supply store was to be found – which wasn’t really close at all – nearly all the way to Hoedspruit! We off-loaded our pannier boxes and put on our ruck-sacks to fetch our food for the next few meals. The next day, being Good Friday, we knew that all shops would be in lock-down. We got back as velvet dusk was falling. We all set about preparing our braai, which was lit by a pair of hurricane lanterns. As our men were braaing, we girls sat quietly to one side chatting and listening to the night sounds of the veldt surrounding us. At one stage there was a rustling in the leaves behind us. Jan (name has been changed for privacy reasons) jumped up in fright, as she thought it may be a snake. To her immense relief, we saw a little mouse scurry away into the darkness.
After we had dined at our round table and spun a few yarns, we decided to turn in. Sleep came easily as we had had a long day, plus a hard ride. What a joy to not hear the sounds of traffic or any other city sounds. The crickets sang us their monotonous lullaby while fireflies winked coyly at us.
Next morning we awoke refreshed by the crystal clean air and comfy beds. As we breakfasted, we were startled to see the dog that had greeted us the previous day, was being chased by a warthog – right up onto our patio! We all jumped up in fright. Suddenly the dog leaped into the air, doing an about face. Now the dog was chasing the warthog. Just then the ranger happened along. He had come to enquire if we had found everything satisfactory. He laughingly said something to the effect of “I see the animals are putting on a show for you.” He explained that the dog and warthog had been raised together, and were good friends – they were just having a game together. We breathed a collective sigh of relief! The warthog came meandering back on its own a while later to scrounge bread from us. I think for me, this was the highlight of our trip.
That day, we took things easy, going to a scenic place called God’s Window which overlooks the Blyde River Canyon: it is said that, on a clear day, one can see all the way to Mozambique. From God’s window, the Three Rondawels are to be seen, high rocky formations in the middle of the red sandstone canyon, in the shape of round native huts. If one is prepared to do a bit of climbing, there is a glorious little rain forest to be seen higher up the trail. The vegetation becomes lush, with various exquisite flowers and ferns – a botanists paradise.
Viewing these wonders and taking many snaps, had taken the best part of the morning. We decided to visit the town of Hazyview for a leisurely lunch. We found an excellent restaurant with scrumptious banana pancakes for desert. Hazyview is noted for its banana farms and beautiful scenery as well. We took a slow ride back to camp, as we had planned a ‘potjie’ for that evening, which takes a good few hours to cook.
On the Saturday, we made a quick trip into Tzaneen to do some shopping. The weather had taken a warm turn, and I had packed only jeans and long-sleeved tops for Ray and me. Something cooler was in order. I was surprised at how quiet the town was; I surmised that half the population had also taken a vacation, or maybe I was just used to the hustle and bustle back home. On the way back to camp, we stopped off to get a quick look at the relatively new Tzaneen Dam, which is fed by the Letaba River and supplies that whole region with all its water needs.
After changing into cooler gear, we all set off for Pilgrim’s Rest. This whole town is a National Monument and looks very much the way it was back in the gold rush days of the mid 1870s. It is a great tourist attraction and many holiday makers thronged the narrow single road that runs through it. The boys went off to look at an exhibition of alluvial gold mining, whilst we girls perused quaint shops which held a mixture of antique and modern touristy goods for sale. We stopped off for a late lunch at a restaurant (I am sure it was called The Digger’s Rest) where we enjoyed a delicious meal of bobotie (a local dish of curried mince baked in the oven, served on a bed of rice). The girls shared a bottle of well chilled local wine, while the boys enjoyed ice cold beers.
After lunch, we decided to walk it off by visiting the museum and making the uphill trek to see the “Robbers Grave” in the old cemetery at the top of the hill. This grave is laid perpendicular to all the other graves and bears no inscription or name: only “Robbers Grave” is written on the grave stone below a painted white cross. Apparently, the grave was laid in such a manner that the occupant couldn’t see the rising sun.
We made our way back to our ‘twin’ bikes, to find a crowd of youngsters surrounding them. The men started forward, fearing some mischief was afoot – it was only an admiring group – seldom were two almost identical bikes of that size seen in outlying regions. We mounted up amidst cheers and sighs, to decorously make our way over the famous Joubert Bridge and exit downtown Pilgrim’s Rest. We made our winding way down Robbers Pass, so called because of the many stage coach robberies which had taken place there. On the way down to Lydenburg, we passed through clouds, and were caught in an unexpected shower for a few minutes. We were all drenched to the skin, but had dried out by the time we reached picturesque Lydenburg.
The Sunday was spent viewing all the picturesque waterfalls, including the one at Bourke’s Luck Potholes. This is a unique natural sight where two rivers ‘collide’, causing whirlpools. Aeons of erosion have caused deep cylindrical holes to be carved from the bedrock of the river. One part is named the Giant’s Kettle, because of the way the water bubbles and ‘boils’. This spot actually marks the beginning of the Blyde River Canyon.
The “Bridal Veil Falls” and “Horseshoe Falls” each have their own kind of beauty. The “Lisbon Falls”, with its two falls is the highest in that area, while the “Berlin Falls” nearby, are lovely too. “Mac Mac Falls” is also a twin fall, while “Lone Creek Falls” is one majestic column of water. We were extremely happy to find toilet facilities at this one.
We had lunch in a quaint restaurant in the town of Graskop before taking the road through Sabie to the Long Tom Pass which links to Lydenburg. The pass is a bikers’ paradise, with its long twisting turns and magnificent mountain scenery. It is one of the highest mountain passes in South Africa, often covered by mist; for us, the sun shone brightly from a brilliant blue sky. Of course, we had to stop at the Devil’s Knuckles to view where the last 155mm Creusot cannon were used in the Boer War, for which the pass is named. We gazed in wonder at the holes blown in the far wall of the mountain, which these cannon had caused.
The four of us arrived back at base camp about an hour before sunset. We realised that we had been staying in a nature reserve, but had not once taken advantage of our immediate surroundings. We made a spur of the moment decision to go on a walk to the nearest watering hole. We had to walk single file down the winding narrow path through the veldt, in quest of wild life. We reached the water-hole and spied a wooden “hide” near enough to watch for game, unseen. We all hunkered down in the “hide”, waiting expectantly. The sun was setting in a golden blaze of glory – but no game was to be seen. Disappointed, we straggled back to camp, as we remembered that we didn’t even have a flashlight, if we were caught there after dark.
The only “wild life” that we saw was a strange looking spider, whose web we almost blundered into. The web was spun across the pathway, between two tall thorn bushes, at head height. I heard Jan give a squeak of alarm, and stopped in my tracks; she had almost caught the spider full in the face. Naturally, we all wanted to see her cause for anxiety. There in its flimsy web sat the prettiest spider I had ever seen. The body was no bigger than my thumb-nail, shaped almost like a crab but with a scalloped back edge. The upper side was a beautiful pale turquoise, while the underside was a delicate shade of pale orange. We all agreed that we had never seen anything like that before – we gave it a wide berth!
The ranger caught sight of us in the gloaming as we passed his office. We voiced our bitter disappointment at not seeing any game, only to be told that we had started out too late. He kindly told us that he would take us on a game drive late that night in his open land-rover, but he never gave us an exact time, only that he would collect us at our chalet.
By 9 o’clock, we had finished our braai and were sitting around, yawning widely. By 10, there was still no sign of the ranger; we thought that he had forgotten his promise, and went to bed. Sometime after 11, we were awakened by the sound of a motor and a voice calling us. The ranger had come to collect us, but by that time we were only interested in one thing – our beds.
Monday morning, we were up at sparrow fart. We still had sight-seeing to do on the way home. The air was crisp in the dawn light and dew sparkled on grass and tiny spider webs. We made dark tracks across the surrounding lawn with the bikes, as we sadly said goodbye to the little slice of paradise where we had sojourned.
None of us had seen the Sudwala Caves before, so that is where we set our sights. Surrounded by lush vegetation it is set in Precambrian dolomite, which was first set down about 3800 million years ago, when Africa was still part of Gondwana. The caves themselves formed about 240 million years ago, making them the oldest known caves in the world. Some of the calcium structures are said to be 200 million years old, such as the “Screaming Monster” and “Samson’s Pillar”. In the main hall, the temperature is a constant 17 degrees Celsius, year round. Sudwala is named for a certain Swazi head-man, who took refuge there with members of his tribe.
While we waited for the next tour of the caves, we visited the Dinosaur Park next door. Life size models of pre-historic animals are on display outdoors, amid the lush subtropical forest. We took plenty of crazy photos posed with these monstrous replicas. I remember offering a T-rex a drag of my cigarette. Well, a puff for a magic dragon – LOL!
After our tour of those magnificent caves, we needed some sustenance before wending our way home. We dined at a fabulous restaurant within the grounds. We finished up with large slices of Pecan nut pie, topped with lashings of whipped cream. Before I die, I want to return, just for some of that pie!
Our faithful “iron ponies” took to the road again, bearing their weary mounts safely home. Too soon the smog of Johannesburg appeared on the horizon and then the light coloured “mountains of men” – the gold mine dumps with their toxic cyanide contents. Our journey was almost done, but what a memorable weekend we had experienced!
