Frontier Weekend

Day 1

            We began our sojourn into the Winterberg Mountains in Shaddly’s bus. Taylor and I sat in front, which holds a twofold benefit; we didn’t get carsick and we got to learn a little more about the beautiful mountains we were driving through. The scenery was striking as we wound up the mountains, with the occasional 20-minute stop for construction. It was put to shame when we arrived on the first of two farms, tucked into impressive poplar trees and lush bushes. We were provided a nice lunch and told that we were entering the realm of real South African farmers as their houseguests. We then milked a cow and drank straight from the utter after we fed an Eland housed in the same pasture as my ever-favorite horses. We were taken on bakkies (trucks with bars to hold standing people in the bed of the truck) on a bumpy road to a place that utterly took my breath away. We climbed a massive, rounded rock face to awing views of the Winterberg Mountains. A swim in the river beneath this rock was refreshing and exhilarating.

            After such an exciting afternoon, the group sat beneath trees and had a glass of wine by the fire. Laura and I got to thank Winnie and hear the story of how she and her husband, Marnus, began housing students for an orientation to South African farming. These people were so generous to open their homes to us (even letting me send Zach a message on Facebook as there was no service and I didn’t want him to worry). The dinner was authentically Afrikaans and consisted of a delightful pumpkin dish which will be made very soon in Flat 14.

            After dinner, we were taken to the second farm and the house we were to sleep in. The house was the farmer’s sons and had been his great grandmothers. It is reminiscent of the times in which it was built, the 1940s. In both houses on this farm I felt my grandmother and grandfather there. Grandmother would have adored the kitchens and the office and bar areas were right up my Grandfather’s alley. The living rooms in both houses were strikingly Aunt Ruth Anne.  The son whose home we stayed in and who showed us around the property and shot little 22’s with us on Saturday was so much like cousin Ed I had to laugh. I thoroughly enjoyed being reminded so heavily of family this weekend.

Day 2

            Crisp mornings are always my favorite, with the sunshine peeking through a layer of clouds and settling on the soft dew to create a atmosphere of complete harmony. Saturday morning provided that much-desired feeling with a little flavor of Africa. Breakfast was an affair to behold; looking out onto breathtaking gardens my mother would have had a heart attack over (don’t worry Mom, I took pictures of the roses for you). Memories of gardening with Mom were a fun treat with breakfast.
            A little less breathtaking were the sheep being shorn for our viewing and educational pleasure. However, the sound of a sheep baaing is hilariously similar to an imitation of the same done by a human. Following the sheep experience, we were taken up the mountain in our favorite, the bakkie. We hiked up a portion of the mountain, and each time we came to a peak, there was another to climb. The exertion was completely worth it when we got to the top for great photo-ops and gorgeous views of the Winterbergs.

            Saturday afternoon hosted tennis with an Eland overlooking the players, tea with delicious deserts, and target practice with 22’s. Dinner was delicious as the other meals had all been. By the end of the day, the group was exhausted and ready for a good sleep.

Day 3 

            Bumped and bruised, we began our last day of the Frontier Weekend. We flew down the mountain in the back of a 4x4 to the beginning of a trail leading to a dried-up waterfall. This sounds unimpressive, but the scenery was yet again, inspiring. We came upon two cliffs, approximately 30 feet apart and at least that much high. Stepping over the rocks and swimming through the river, albeit scary, was worth the fright when we all climbed up the waterfall and captured images that we will never forget. When else are we going to hike and swim to a waterfall and clamber up the same to take a giant group picture…in Africa. So bumped, bruised, and tired, we returned to Port Elizabeth enriched with how a real South African farmer lives.