The road to Cape Town is littered with beauty. It is as though God reached into His sack or art and inspiration, gathered a fistful of its contents and cast it wantonly upon this singular corner of the Earth. It is adorned with shimmering lakes and onyx black rivers; as well as cattle, sheep and horses that lazily graze upon a hundred hill.
The mountains that surround the highway pass seemed to enclose the road and shield it from the rest of the country, and their peaks were so high and imposing that the clouds themselves appeared to seek passage through their territory – only to be refused. At dusk, the light of the setting sun danced off the slopes of the majestic megaliths, transforming them from emerald and forest green to dusty rose.
The rolling natural landscape is intermittedly interrupted by the presence of human industry, which manifested itself as a mix of the ancient and modern. There were looming petrol refineries that loomed over 19th century granaries and Dutch-style edifices.
Lulled by the sight and smell of serene buttery fields of ripening canola, I conceded to have my attention drawn away by their beauty in order to catch a glimpse of graceful egrets, inquisitive ostriches and heron in flight.
This is the Garden Route and wine country. On either side of the road, vineyards had been plucked bare for the winter season – which was good news, because it meant the cellars would be full of new wine.
It’s hard for me to describe it all. For a few days, I’ve felt myself at a loss for words…so I have finally surrendered and have opted to let the pictures speak of the splendor for themselves – but even they can do it justice.