It's interesting how one's view on what is large and small, colossal and minute changes depending on where in life you are. When you are a child your birthday seems so far away; and after you turn 40, it seems like 50 is just around the corner. Our road trip through the Eastern Cape was planned as a result of my partner retiring after a life time at his employer, 42 years in fact and the large landscapes that lay ahead of us would prove to be the perfect back drop to our end-of-an-era trip.
As a complete urbanite I have always held the idea that the Karoo is some vast, barely-filled environment in the interior of South Africa. Of course people have always lived there and made their livelihoods and the Karoo is an inspiration for literary and artistic pursuits, but I never saw the attraction. In that week long drive I fell in love, I found out why the Karoo remains an inspiration, and if I had to guess it took me turning 50 this year to clearly see the reason why.
While in the Addo Elephant Park I noticed that I wanted continuously to sing an old song from my childhood, Transkaroo by Herman Holtzhauzen. There is a railway line very close to the camp in Addo and lying in the trailer at night, listening to the long trains in the distance, disappearing into the distance, brought that song to mind.
The stark openness and rugged survival of the vegetation, despite little rainfall, became an amazing sight. Vast horizons in neutral tones stretched endlessly in front of us, relaxing the mind, stilling the soul.
We saw many species of bird but the most re-occurring one on the long road was the Pied Crow, a very ordinary character but one that has a devastating effect on its environment and more importantly on the number of tortoise roaming freely in the veld. There has been a study written up describing the destruction on tortoise numbers by Pied Crows feeding their chicks.
Our visit was timed just when the Camdeboo Nature Reserve had so much rainfall that parts of the park were flooded, an extraordinary event in this place where rainfall is a luxury (or perhaps a potential disaster). The Valley of Desolation near Graaff-Reinet was mesmerising with the dolomite structures including the Spandau hill.
Driving around the small "dorpies" reminded me that like the environment, the people traveling to and settling in these areas must have been as hardy as the rest of the ecosystem. Having experienced the dry air, slow pace and open spaces, I now knew why I friend of mine was determined to retire out there.
The typical Karoo house with its small windows and thick walls keep both the cold and searing heat at bay. The flat roofs wait a long time to shield their inhabitants from rain and the peach pit floors might not see as much traffic as they once did but they added to the ambience in the Olive Schreiner house museum that totally entranced me. The houses are low structures, no high volume ceilings, not pitched roofs which I usually enjoy in architecture.
On my return home I went off to the local library to find more on the Karoo, it lead me to a beautiful coffee table book called Hidden Karoo and Karoo by the legendary South African story teller Lawrence Green, which is on the Internet Archive. I also pre-read the book Moving to the Platteland for that friend of mine and reported so much on it that she went off and bought her own copy.
In heavily urbanised sprawls its easy to become faceless and lose yourself in the busyness of modern life. In the Karoo the pace of life is different and there's a good chance you might just get to know yourself a bit better.
Taken in the Addo Elephant Park. The hyena is chewing on a horn from some sort of buck.
Do you find yourself humming when you are nature journaling?
Does aging help you appreciate things you might not have given any thought to earlier in life?
What landscape affected you lately?
Can't wait to do a Karroo road trip :)