Another dimension

Monday, 15 June, 2015
Suenel Bruwer Holloway
I am uncertain about the role of luck in life. For every decision in life one pays a price. It does not do to assume that the grass is greener on the other side. But some of us are ... well, ‘lucky’.

I am very aware how much, particularly in autumn. I get lyrical three times before breakfast. I start quoting Keats’ “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” and Opperman’s “Die jaar word ryp in goue akker blare”. 

Rough stuff, good stuff and secrets

I was driving to Robertson from McGregor, a route where the scenery changes daily, when I noticed oddly shaped activity in the middle of the road. One has been known to witness blue crane, hare, duiker, mongoose and once even an eagle taking off with a writhing snake in its talons, on this stretch. Once past the Renoir (an apricot orchard before the Nature Reserve) and the Donkey Sanctuary, vineyards stretch away in ochre and rust, gold and burnt orange; in low-lying gullies wisps of mist promise another perfect day. One tends to speed up a little at that point, but fortunately I was besotted with the morning and wanted to prolong the journey. And there, in the middle of the road, were two mating tortoises – huge old guy and gel. One wonders how old they are. I drove around them, stopped and got out of the car - hazards flashing and waving like a crazy person in the middle of the road to warn other road users. A farmer got the message and parked his bakkie across both lanes, forming a cordon to prevent “tortoise interruptus.” Essentials completed they toddled off (in different directions nogal, sensible beasties.)

In the space of one day one can experience wonders here. The thing is, one often doesn’t (much in the way Cape Town dwellers do not go up Table Mountain unless they take guests from elsewhere), which is why it is great when visitors need a little tour. The McGregor area has another dimension, sort of like Platform 9¾ at King’s Cross Station in Harry Potter: it opens up once you rush into it in good faith. There is richness beyond.

One of my favourite places in the whole wide world is some way down a gravel road: Buffelskloof Primary school. I do relief teaching there and make a point of taking the children on walks during break - to get an inkling of their world. And what a world it is! A dam with ducks, reflecting a landscape of reeds, terra cotta hills textured with fynbos, and a goodly supply of flat stones to play “koeitjies en kalfies”. Suddenly one finds Buffalo Creek wine farm: Roses, rosè and a tasting stoep. Mark Tolmay runs the farm together with a farm-worker’s trust.

About 5 kilometres from McGregor is Tanagra, a boutique winery and distillery canopied by a giant wild fig tree. While their red wine is not to be underrated, the real surprise is the limited release grappa. Robert and Anette Rosenbach create an excellent, hand numbered range of Eau de Vie. Their love for the lifestyle they have chosen and their involvement with the community are evident. They host jazz concerts that have become a joyful institution, the proceeds of which is shared by Animal Welfare and the Breede Centre, a Skills for Life initiative that promotes self-actualization and self-employment. The Breede Centre provides activities (art, sport, craft, gardening etc) as well as meals for children during the school holidays.

Breakfast at Frangipani is a simple feast, with (obviously) fresh frothy free range scrambled eggs. This down-to-earth space also offers seriously good ice creams and sorbets, and the apple pie is delicately perfumed with orange zest and spices. Dinner at Karoux is decidedly haute, from the duck liver patè to the pear crumble. Once you have eaten there, you appreciate the limited seating - food like this cannot be multiplied without loss of finesse.

You can easily overshoot the turn-off to Voor Den Berg farm outside McGregor. After a slightly bleak bit of landscape, you are astonished by the gates and lush gardens of a flourishing farm. An even bigger surprise is the bustling olive factory alongside: Huge tanks, stacked crates and olive products of calibre.

High in the northernmost end of the McGregor valley, cradled in the Protea strewn slopes of the Riviersonderend mountains, is Lord’s cellar - buildings that look as if the landscape gave birth to them naturally. It is not easy to discern which of the people seated outside the cellar, eating from generous plates of tapas and drinking wine, are tourists, and which are regulars and family. Jacie and Marinda share their acre of understated paradise with generous hospitality. I recognise one of the Oosthuizen cousins that I had seen at the Food and Wine festival where he was surrounded by buckets of wild flowers: Work hardened hands and snapping secateurs create bouquets within minutes, spectacles sliding down his nose as he hands you a bunch of heaven. The champagne bottling hive of activity was on one windy, freezing cold Saturday, the intrepid guests seated on steps and barrels, munching strawberries, fat green olives and salmon sandwiches. The final glory was when people, suddenly grown silent, gathered just inside the arched open cellar door: A perfect rainbow echoed the curve of the doorway.

I have been privileged to taste two seasons of award winning Lord’s MCC as well as their unusual Pinot Noir. I have done this under a shining rainbow, among beloved friends, mere minutes up the road from where I live.

Some of us are lucky.