The drive from Hermanus to Montagu felt like a journey through time and space. Leaving behind the coastal air, the road unraveled past rolling fields of bright yellow canola fields, a burst of life that seemed to glow under the clear sky. The further we drove, the land began to shift—slowly transforming into the dry, rugged landscape of the Klein Karoo. Here, ancient rock formations stood like silent guardians, their weathered faces a reminder of time's slow passage.
In the valleys, spring revealed itself through blossoming fruit orchards, delicate and vibrant against the backdrop of imposing mountains. The timelessness of the journey was punctuated by an antique car show we passed, a surreal moment where past and present collided. Further along, children played in farm dams swollen with winter rain, their laughter echoing the simple joys that transcend time.
The names given to these places and the use of language to engage with place came to mind as we pass Nougatspoort (narrow-hole-creek), Skedelkop vally (skul-head valley) and Vrugtegeur (Fruit Fragrance). Our destination, Simon’s Kloof, was once a farm called Nootgedacht, meaning “never thought,” a name carrying the weight of forgotten dreams or perhaps unimagined possibilities by its first colonial family. This patch of land, now a nature reserve, holds stories far older than farms and settlers—rock overhangs with San paintings, silent testimonies to the original stewards of this place.
Each name, each moment, tells a part of the land’s ever-evolving story. How did this land react to its change in ownership through time, once revered as the holder of history, to a lush working family farm, to the recluse of a post-WW2 German soldier, finding a place to raise a family in respite and seclusion, and now 3 generations later back to a "nature" preserve with glamping sites and walking trails. The remnants of a rusted 60's Chevrolet engraved as part of its story.
Nothing quite says SPRING as lambs being herded in the Karoo - and a baby being carried.
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