THREE DAYS OFF
For me, Blyde River Canyon can be summed up in two words, ’breathtaking and spectacular’. I had three full days to enjoy the drive, the scenery and the tranquillity of the area. I could have easily spent another week there and not got bored of the views. They are with out a doubt breathtaking and spectacular.
Months before I was due to leave England I had been checking out the Mpumalanga Province on the internet, looking for things I might like to see when I had time whilst there. I also checked out the topography of the area and satellite imagery on Google Earth. The first thing of personal interest I noticed was the proximity of where I would be staying to the Drakenburg Mountain Range, secondly was a photograph of the view from ’Gods Window’. From that moment I knew I’d be heading into ‘them there mountains’ and I’d be having my customary ‘whiskey toast’ at these places to my Mam and Grandad, both amazing people and both, sadly, no longer here.
Over the last few years it has become almost a ritual to make a toast to these two people when I find myself in places that I know will stay with me long after I’ve left them. The tipple is down to my Grandad. I used to enjoy treating him to a good bottle of whiskey, his choice was Glenmorangie, The Original. I picked a bottle (a litre bottle, oops) up at Heathrow Airport on the way out. The plan as always is to find a secluded spot, drift in my own thoughts, make a mental toast and whollop, down she goes. Always a smile inducing moment, which hopefully is down to the memories and not the whiskey.
The drive to Blyde Canyon is scenically, lovely. The route I chose was along the R535, over Kowyn’s Pass, through Graskop, around the ’Panoramic Route’ then straight North via Bourke’s Luck Pot holes to Aventura Blyde Canyon Resort, where I had a luxury chalet booked for two nights. I did actually try and book the basic chalet but they were all gone, what the hell I’ll have a luxury one, how many times will I pass this way again. Plus I’ve got sixteen months interest free on my Virgin Credit Card!
I had purposely chosen this route for the scenery I would be passing through., high passes that would allow me to first look down on sparse bushveld and later down to massive pine forests and lush vegetation, I would pass six three hundred feet high waterfalls all geologically different, ranging from whispy water drops into deep, dark pools to calcium carbonate falls which build more rock as the calcium deposits collect. I planned to stop at famous viewing spots with magical names like Worlds End, Wonder View and the most famous, Gods Window. All viewing spots that would allow me to see for tens of miles into the distance or along the deep canyon walls whilst listening to the river tumble along the distant floor, Bourke’s Pools and The pinnacle, both carved by water and grit over the centuries. All of these views I would pass along the r
oute, all and more.
Instead I saw diddly, the weather was ‘pea soup’. As soon as I started to gain high after driving through the ironically named town of Hazyview, a dense fog blanketed everything. The driving became very nerve racking as I could only see about ten metres in front of the car on a bending climbing mountain road. The fog was more like a whiteout in that it was blinding to look into. The conditions didn’t make me nervous, I actually like adverse weather conditions, it was the other motorists. The driving in South Africa is on the whole, poor. Major accidents are caused due to the standard of driving and I was alarmed to witness people coming out of the fog at speeds that would give no chance of avoiding a collision, other cars were even overtaking me, going up hill in the whiteout, not knowing what was coming the other way. I narrowly avoided my own insurance argument when passing some numpte whom had chosen to stop on a bend, sticking out into the road . They only became visible at the last second and I had to swerve to avoid hitting them.
I eventually found Gods Window, needless to say the view was, well, viewless. It was a lit
tle disappointing not to be able to see anything but the atmosphere created by the mist gave the place a very eerie feel and the drop from the viewing platform could be felt if not seen. I stuck around for a while and drove on, slowly. The fog was very soon left behind, it only really collects around that part of the canyon due to huge amount of trees and dense foliage and the hight. It creates its own little eco climate of rain, high humidity, fog and thicker fog. The remainder of the drive was as I’d hoped, dreamed really. I visited Berlin and Lisbon falls and Bourke’s Luck Pothol
es. The pot holes were fascinating. Over the centuries the pouring water and collecting grit has been constantly carving the canyon out of soft rock. Where the rock is harder it erodes much slower, sometimes the hard rock literally causes a dead end to the running water. The water and grit then form a whirl pool as it has nowhere else to go and effectively starts to erode straight down as opposed to along. Eventually what’s left are deep, perfectly cylindrical holes. They are spectacular to see and the walls of the canyon and holes are dramatically coloured as the water bores its way through different layers of rock creating a striped wall.
I had my dinner in Bourke’s hole, so to speak. I ate at Jive café a
nd chose the ‘chicken chakalaka’, how could I not. It was spot on, just what the doctor ordered. A huge folded pancake, stuffed with spicy chicken, spicy veg and something else that was spicy. Washed down with a cold castle beer, a bottle of water and a coke. It was spicy.
The drive to the resort took a lot longer than it should, mainly because my eyes were looking everywhere but at the road, the canyon stretches for miles and the sides are a multitude of different rock formations, types and colours with white water rivers gushing out of cracks in the canyon walls. I reached the Aventura Resort at about 1700 and was having a soak in the bath by 1720 with all the free nice smelling soaps bubbling away. The toiletries I’ve brought for the month are a bar of soap, tooth brush and tooth paste. I try to travel light. The chalet was luxurious, a nice size double bed (for one, booo), fully fitted kitchen, seating area and separate dining area, a big bathroom with separate shower and outside I had
a car port (for my 4 litre, v6 petrol engined monster very kindly loaned to me from Johan and Lindsay) my own patio and braai (bbq) area. Equally as important the TV channels had plenty of sport on. I chilled in a deep hot bath for ages, sinking another cold castle. I then spent the night having a mooch around the resort, going for a quick walk in the canyon and then watching the kayaking on the TV. I’m definitely getting a touring kayak.
The second day was pencilled in for a day of sight seeing and the afternoon in Graskop village. On the off chance I went back via the Panoramic Route to see if there was any views to be had. The weather seemed pretty clear on the drive and I felt optimistic in getting my views in. ‘Wonder View’ and more so ’Gods Window’ do not as
you might expect, over sell these special places. The views are spellbinding. It was early and quiet and I was able to enjoy the almost endless panoramas to more or less myself. Most people turned up, got their shot and got going. I found little out of the way rock shelves and just sat in contented quietness taking in the magnificent views with nothing below my dangling feet for over a kilometre. I only came this way on the off chance as I was going to drive this way on the third day on my way back home. ‘God helps those whom helps themselves’ as they say or at least He let me see out of his window for an hour for my trouble. From my spot I could look down to miles of pine and eucalyptus trees with hazy mist rising skyward from the lush vegetation. I looked up at ten thousand feet peaks, doming into the skyline and across at bizarre shapes carved into the sheer canyon walls. It was great just to sit and listen to the breeze passing through the canyon, the insects and lizards taking care of business on the floor and my own breathing, nothing else.
Graskop is a great little town with plenty of quirky little shops. I saw quite a lot of gifts made out of elephant crap. There was even a splendidly sized dung ball highly varnished, hinged and carved on the inside to make a cigar holder!! I opted for the more simple design of a dung papered calendar for one of my presents to take back home. So I’m happy to declare that some lucky monkey will soon have an office smelling of elephant shit. Your welcome.
In another shop I was witness to a rather bizarre request from an American lady. We were in an antiq
ues shop, the clue is in the type of shop. The lady was looking at an original and very old Zulu shield. She was obviously pleased with her find however there was one problem. She approached the counter and asked ’is this the only colour you do it in?’ the reply form the lips of an obviously puzzled face was ’yes’. Unperturbed she went on to ask ’do you think you will be getting another one in soon, in a diferent colour?’ Bloody Nora woman, its an antique, did she think the man behind the counter was a well disguised time traveller and he frequently nipped back decades in time to fulfil the requests of blind minded wallies. When he explained that it was the one of only a few discovered she simply said ’its fine, I’ll leave it. It would have been nice in another colour’. I’m sure the proud Zulu warrior who fought behind this very shield would be turning in his grave to hear his magnificent shield failed to ’go with’ some Laura Ashley flowered cushion covers.
For dinner I got stuck into an oversized and filling vegetable filled pancake, spicy. That evening I sat on some rocks in the canyon, with a beer, watching a spectacular sunset over the three Roundawels. As the sun set, the rocks of the Roundawels lit up in an array of different colours as the sunrays passed along the history and layers of the sidewalls. The rocks as a whole seemed to glow red.
The next day was my final day off, I chose a leisurely drive home through pea soup fog (it transpired my choice to view Gods Window the previous day was a blessing) then down, back the way I came. I killed a little time in Hazyview, priced up my metal warthog from the guy making them on the side of the road and was back at my cabin by half three.
A great little trip.
Tomorrow the Jo Jo tanks, finally
For me, Blyde River Canyon can be summed up in two words, ’breathtaking and spectacular’. I had three full days to enjoy the drive, the scenery and the tranquillity of the area. I could have easily spent another week there and not got bored of the views. They are with out a doubt breathtaking and spectacular.
Months before I was due to leave England I had been checking out the Mpumalanga Province on the internet, looking for things I might like to see when I had time whilst there. I also checked out the topography of the area and satellite imagery on Google Earth. The first thing of personal interest I noticed was the proximity of where I would be staying to the Drakenburg Mountain Range, secondly was a photograph of the view from ’Gods Window’. From that moment I knew I’d be heading into ‘them there mountains’ and I’d be having my customary ‘whiskey toast’ at these places to my Mam and Grandad, both amazing people and both, sadly, no longer here.
Over the last few years it has become almost a ritual to make a toast to these two people when I find myself in places that I know will stay with me long after I’ve left them. The tipple is down to my Grandad. I used to enjoy treating him to a good bottle of whiskey, his choice was Glenmorangie, The Original. I picked a bottle (a litre bottle, oops) up at Heathrow Airport on the way out. The plan as always is to find a secluded spot, drift in my own thoughts, make a mental toast and whollop, down she goes. Always a smile inducing moment, which hopefully is down to the memories and not the whiskey.
The drive to Blyde Canyon is scenically, lovely. The route I chose was along the R535, over Kowyn’s Pass, through Graskop, around the ’Panoramic Route’ then straight North via Bourke’s Luck Pot holes to Aventura Blyde Canyon Resort, where I had a luxury chalet booked for two nights. I did actually try and book the basic chalet but they were all gone, what the hell I’ll have a luxury one, how many times will I pass this way again. Plus I’ve got sixteen months interest free on my Virgin Credit Card!
I had purposely chosen this route for the scenery I would be passing through., high passes that would allow me to first look down on sparse bushveld and later down to massive pine forests and lush vegetation, I would pass six three hundred feet high waterfalls all geologically different, ranging from whispy water drops into deep, dark pools to calcium carbonate falls which build more rock as the calcium deposits collect. I planned to stop at famous viewing spots with magical names like Worlds End, Wonder View and the most famous, Gods Window. All viewing spots that would allow me to see for tens of miles into the distance or along the deep canyon walls whilst listening to the river tumble along the distant floor, Bourke’s Pools and The pinnacle, both carved by water and grit over the centuries. All of these views I would pass along the r
oute, all and more.Instead I saw diddly, the weather was ‘pea soup’. As soon as I started to gain high after driving through the ironically named town of Hazyview, a dense fog blanketed everything. The driving became very nerve racking as I could only see about ten metres in front of the car on a bending climbing mountain road. The fog was more like a whiteout in that it was blinding to look into. The conditions didn’t make me nervous, I actually like adverse weather conditions, it was the other motorists. The driving in South Africa is on the whole, poor. Major accidents are caused due to the standard of driving and I was alarmed to witness people coming out of the fog at speeds that would give no chance of avoiding a collision, other cars were even overtaking me, going up hill in the whiteout, not knowing what was coming the other way. I narrowly avoided my own insurance argument when passing some numpte whom had chosen to stop on a bend, sticking out into the road . They only became visible at the last second and I had to swerve to avoid hitting them.
I eventually found Gods Window, needless to say the view was, well, viewless. It was a lit
tle disappointing not to be able to see anything but the atmosphere created by the mist gave the place a very eerie feel and the drop from the viewing platform could be felt if not seen. I stuck around for a while and drove on, slowly. The fog was very soon left behind, it only really collects around that part of the canyon due to huge amount of trees and dense foliage and the hight. It creates its own little eco climate of rain, high humidity, fog and thicker fog. The remainder of the drive was as I’d hoped, dreamed really. I visited Berlin and Lisbon falls and Bourke’s Luck Pothol
es. The pot holes were fascinating. Over the centuries the pouring water and collecting grit has been constantly carving the canyon out of soft rock. Where the rock is harder it erodes much slower, sometimes the hard rock literally causes a dead end to the running water. The water and grit then form a whirl pool as it has nowhere else to go and effectively starts to erode straight down as opposed to along. Eventually what’s left are deep, perfectly cylindrical holes. They are spectacular to see and the walls of the canyon and holes are dramatically coloured as the water bores its way through different layers of rock creating a striped wall.I had my dinner in Bourke’s hole, so to speak. I ate at Jive café a
nd chose the ‘chicken chakalaka’, how could I not. It was spot on, just what the doctor ordered. A huge folded pancake, stuffed with spicy chicken, spicy veg and something else that was spicy. Washed down with a cold castle beer, a bottle of water and a coke. It was spicy.The drive to the resort took a lot longer than it should, mainly because my eyes were looking everywhere but at the road, the canyon stretches for miles and the sides are a multitude of different rock formations, types and colours with white water rivers gushing out of cracks in the canyon walls. I reached the Aventura Resort at about 1700 and was having a soak in the bath by 1720 with all the free nice smelling soaps bubbling away. The toiletries I’ve brought for the month are a bar of soap, tooth brush and tooth paste. I try to travel light. The chalet was luxurious, a nice size double bed (for one, booo), fully fitted kitchen, seating area and separate dining area, a big bathroom with separate shower and outside I had
a car port (for my 4 litre, v6 petrol engined monster very kindly loaned to me from Johan and Lindsay) my own patio and braai (bbq) area. Equally as important the TV channels had plenty of sport on. I chilled in a deep hot bath for ages, sinking another cold castle. I then spent the night having a mooch around the resort, going for a quick walk in the canyon and then watching the kayaking on the TV. I’m definitely getting a touring kayak.The second day was pencilled in for a day of sight seeing and the afternoon in Graskop village. On the off chance I went back via the Panoramic Route to see if there was any views to be had. The weather seemed pretty clear on the drive and I felt optimistic in getting my views in. ‘Wonder View’ and more so ’Gods Window’ do not as
you might expect, over sell these special places. The views are spellbinding. It was early and quiet and I was able to enjoy the almost endless panoramas to more or less myself. Most people turned up, got their shot and got going. I found little out of the way rock shelves and just sat in contented quietness taking in the magnificent views with nothing below my dangling feet for over a kilometre. I only came this way on the off chance as I was going to drive this way on the third day on my way back home. ‘God helps those whom helps themselves’ as they say or at least He let me see out of his window for an hour for my trouble. From my spot I could look down to miles of pine and eucalyptus trees with hazy mist rising skyward from the lush vegetation. I looked up at ten thousand feet peaks, doming into the skyline and across at bizarre shapes carved into the sheer canyon walls. It was great just to sit and listen to the breeze passing through the canyon, the insects and lizards taking care of business on the floor and my own breathing, nothing else.Graskop is a great little town with plenty of quirky little shops. I saw quite a lot of gifts made out of elephant crap. There was even a splendidly sized dung ball highly varnished, hinged and carved on the inside to make a cigar holder!! I opted for the more simple design of a dung papered calendar for one of my presents to take back home. So I’m happy to declare that some lucky monkey will soon have an office smelling of elephant shit. Your welcome.
In another shop I was witness to a rather bizarre request from an American lady. We were in an antiq
ues shop, the clue is in the type of shop. The lady was looking at an original and very old Zulu shield. She was obviously pleased with her find however there was one problem. She approached the counter and asked ’is this the only colour you do it in?’ the reply form the lips of an obviously puzzled face was ’yes’. Unperturbed she went on to ask ’do you think you will be getting another one in soon, in a diferent colour?’ Bloody Nora woman, its an antique, did she think the man behind the counter was a well disguised time traveller and he frequently nipped back decades in time to fulfil the requests of blind minded wallies. When he explained that it was the one of only a few discovered she simply said ’its fine, I’ll leave it. It would have been nice in another colour’. I’m sure the proud Zulu warrior who fought behind this very shield would be turning in his grave to hear his magnificent shield failed to ’go with’ some Laura Ashley flowered cushion covers.For dinner I got stuck into an oversized and filling vegetable filled pancake, spicy. That evening I sat on some rocks in the canyon, with a beer, watching a spectacular sunset over the three Roundawels. As the sun set, the rocks of the Roundawels lit up in an array of different colours as the sunrays passed along the history and layers of the sidewalls. The rocks as a whole seemed to glow red.
The next day was my final day off, I chose a leisurely drive home through pea soup fog (it transpired my choice to view Gods Window the previous day was a blessing) then down, back the way I came. I killed a little time in Hazyview, priced up my metal warthog from the guy making them on the side of the road and was back at my cabin by half three.
A great little trip.
Tomorrow the Jo Jo tanks, finally
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