No Fixed Abode: To the Valley of Desolation

Mon 23 & Tue 24 May 2016 - Clarens to Graaff-Reinet

We split this long journey over two days to make it less of an ordeal and we’re glad we did as we were able to take a leisurely start on Mon. After bidding our farewells to Sherrene and Roy we drove into town to buy some bottles of our favourite beers from the brewery and get the, by now filthy, car washed by the small group of black youngsters who gather on the village green armed with their buckets and cloths.

We arrived at the green at 0950 and were immediately approached by a guy offering to wash the car for R40 (about £2). Done deal! We then wandered over to the brewery to find it not open until 1000 - time enough for us to take a last wander around the green. Then with the beer bought we sat in the sun while our washer leathered off the last of the water, he really had made a good job of it, then got on our way.

From the tops of the cliffs of Saturday’s walk we’d seen the large cluster of small houses that we guessed was the black end of town - it really is that distinct in South Africa - but nothing prepared us for the corrugated iron shanty settlement right on the edge of town. Clarens really is the worst possible example of us and them.

We’d been recommended the scenic route ahead of us by our friends the Jones’ and it did not disappoint. The road swept in graceful arcs through huge sandstone cliffs, along canyons and over passes (not dissimilar to Utah and Arizona) as it meandered down from the high mountains to the vast lower plains of the Karoo. The only thing spoiling the journey were our old friends the potholes. Although there were no where near as many as on other roads their occasional appearance meant Glenn had to keep his full attention on the road and could not afford to admire the scenery for too long.

After a glorious 3 hours the mountainous scenery began to give way to flat plains. Here was the realm of the dead straight road disappearing into the horizon with the odd sandstone outcrop piercing the landscape. Several times we were flagged to a halt by human traffic lights (ladies waving large red flags) while a large group of workers resurfaced a stretch of road by hand.

Finally we reached our overnight stopover of Burgersdorp, a sleepy ‘in the middle of nowhere’ sort of place that time seems to have overlooked, and found the Zetana B&B, our home for the night. Tucked down the very end of a side street it looked a tired 70’s style building constructed of strange angles but once inside we were pleasantly surprised by the recently refitted room and an unexpected kitchenette. The TripAdvisor reviews had split opinion on the only restaurant in town so we were pleased to be able to hunker up inside and enjoy baked potato with baked beans - what a treat. We then spent a frustrating evening trying to use the intermittent internet and phone to arrange our next few days accommodation and organise appointments and accommodation for when we get back home. All without success. The internet in SA is always shown as available in the accommodation we book yet it often transpires it doesn’t work.

In the morning we met the owner, who took our cooked breakfast order while we munched on some cereals and then had an ordeal for over an hour trying to phone home to make dental appointments for when we return home.Then it was back on the road for the last 250km to Graaff-Reinet, home of the rather dauntingly named ‘Valley of Desolation’, our next objective.

Today the roads were even straighter, even longer and disappeared over even more distant horizons - this was true wilderness interspersed only by the occasional small settlement. It always mystified us when we frequently passed people walking along side of the road in the middle of nowhere - where did they come from and where were they going?

Around midday we crossed over a couple of high passes then entered a greener, more mountainous area - the home of the famous valley. The town of Graaff-Reinet is surrounded by the Camdeboo park and there were signs everywhere for mountain rides, game safaris and viewing points but we’d agreed to arrive at our AirBnB bungalow at midday as we had a well overdue appointment with its washing machine. Something Yvonne was very much looking forward to.

Following a quick tour of the backstreets, something the satnav on Glenn’s phone is prone to take us on, we found our house, located just off the main street, found the key safe and let ourselves in. As we’d noticed there was no form of heating we threw open all the windows and doors and let the sunshine in - we needed all the warmth we could muster. Then while the washing machine churned away we found a secluded patio at the rear of the house and laid out in the sun for a couple of hours - a very pleasant change.

The information provided with the house advised us that sunset of the Valley of Desolation (VofD) was not to be missed so with an hour or so to go we left in search of the park’s entrance. Uncertain of our bearings we took a short tour of the town before realising that the house was, in fact, on the road to the park so we passed it on the way and drove the few km to be greeted by a ranger needing the usual life history and money before he would let us in. It turns out the VofD is not a valley in the true sense of the word but more of a cleft in the side of a mountain, a big mountain that took a long while to drive up and afforded some wonderful views of the town directly below and miles and miles of mountains and open plains.

At the rim of the VofD the sun was already so low in the sky that half of it was in shadow, not the best for photographs. It also wasn’t as big as a we had expected, being just a few hundred metres in both length and breadth but the formations of dolerite were sufficiently spectacular to urge us to return tomorrow when it is better lit. With the altitude it was now getting unexpectedly cold and our lightweight tourist gear was just not cutting it so we fled to the sanctuary of the heated car, drove down the hill a short way then pulled over to watch the sunset. We were facing south (away from the sun in the southern hemisphere) but we watched the sun’s rays cast shadows from our peaks that slowly crept across the plain until they climbed up the mountains on the far side and enveloped them.

The park is also a game reserve and as we left we saw some distant springboks, a family of ostriches that took it turns to take a dust bath and a large herd of Blesboks that sprinted across the road in front of us a few at a time.

When reading the Lonely Planet for this town we found a reference to the Coldstream Restaurant where their speciality is a trio of Beef, Springbok and Ostrich steaks: this we had to try. Choosing to walk to the short distance we paced our way along the empty main street unsure if it was as safe here as at Clarens - the South Africans had made us a little paranoid with their tales of crimes and attacks. We found the Coldstream easily, placed our order with the charming waitress then sat back sipping tasty local wine and enormous G&T, awaiting the arrival of our meal with interest. It did not disappoint. The ostrich and springbok had the chewy texture of the beef steak but more than a hint of liver about the flavour. Very tasty.

Now much later, would the road home be any more intimidating? The sight of a single young girl ambling nonchalantly home gave us the confidence that this is probably just like any other sleepy rural town.