24th September is heritage day in South Africa. In 2008 it fell on a Wednesday which was cold and rainy. This is a day we are supposed to celebrate our cultural heritage and diversity of beliefs. Why do we need a public holiday for this? You tell me, I think a super Saturday or a “national let’s not kill each other week” would have done just as good a job, but since I’m not a politician or a member or the ANC (or even the GTA) what do I know. Some guys tried to capitalize on the occasion by making it national Braai day, and so we had another small argument.
Since it was both raining, and I didn’t have anybody to braai with, I decided to take a drive out to some mountains.
The plot was vaguely hatched the week before when walking on Table mountain with a friend I noticed that there was still some snow on the peaks opposite.
I had made half hearted attempts to get someone else involved but no-one liked my plan of going to look for snow, or even cold beer.
So, it came to pass that around mid morning I barreled down the N1 in heavy rain in search of some country air.
I took the R301 through a very industrial back end of Paarl through to Wellington. The most attractive parts were that it was raining so that you really couldn’t see much, and the Paarl rock which loomed over me out of the clouds.
Paarl is a satellite town about 40 minutes out of Cape Town. I’ve never really thought of it as a distinct venue on its own, but it is the third oldest European settlement in South Africa, and home to the Paarl Rock. If my briefest of internet searches is correct, it is the second biggest granite outcrop in the world after Uluru in Australia.
At an intersection there was a turnoff to a road called Mbekweni, and a drenched vegetable seller was sitting on the corner with a selection. An advert on the side of a dusty building promoted the “Hungry Lion” (a fast food shop I visited in Blantyre) and suddenly I felt very much in Africa.
When arriving in Wellington, I hooked a right at the local NG Kerk. As is so often the case, the Church is the most impressive building in small town South Africa. The scenery dissolved into green rain as I approached the Bains Kloof pass. The weather was most un-african and as I entered the pass I was confronted with runners running the ultra marathon – 64km of either straight up or straight down. The early runners were thin wisps with looks of pure concentration, later the shapes mutated to potatoes lumbering out of the mist. I felt envious.
The pass was completed in 1853, a product of one Andrew Geddes Bain. It is a simply magnificent trip. Along the way you get to a little village called Eerste Tol. It was raining heavily so I did not stop.
I’m sure the vista’s are magnificent, but today the rain and mist gave it an eerie feel and with minimal traffic, and waterfalls cascading everywhere, it felt wonderful.
The road is narrow and windy, and rock overhang, so a big truck could not always get through. Once crested I spotted a river down to the right. It was roaring and I got off some great photographs. Waterfalls cascaded through the fynbos, and I contendedly wound through to the other side.
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