THANK YOU

Since I re launched The Kakamanian upon my return to Africa in July, I have had the facility to see how many views the blog gets from one week to another. To my great amazement, since Mid July, it has had 288 views; this is amazing, as it is not listed on Google or any other search engine. I prefer those that want to read it to have access via the private address.
I would also mention that none of my own viewing is counted!

 HUGE thank you`s to everyone who pops in and reads.





 I don't want to put anyone off, but it pleases me so much when I receive comments at the end of the posts. Gerry, my American friend is a star and always has something to tell me, or to add...Finn occasionally finds time to pass on a droplet of wisdom. I will answer everyone's comments if they wish to post them..so don't be shy.

Arrivals

30th August is an auspicious date at the farm, this afternoon saw the flock of goats increase by a further two wobbly little infants.
Moses came careering into the kitchen at 3.00, calling for me.."and yes missus bring camera". He was waving his huge hands and his eyes were large and white as they get when he is happy or excited.

He led me to one of the drying slabs,where one of his goats [he calls her "Carlos" which makes me hoot!] had just given birth to twins. I have to say they looked very scrawny and neither was keen to drink..Carlos was more interested in eating the packs of dried grass that Moses was giving her along with an empty large dog food can full of fresh water. I had to resist picking them up and plugging them on, as I had done with Bee when she refused to have anything to do with her babies.

But Moses said "no touch missus", and I bowed to his wisdom. They rested all afternoon under the shade of a camel thorn tree, and then Moses had to bring them all in to their kraal..the nursing mother goats have a small and separate one.
Anyway Carlos was still showing a total disregard for her babies, and so between us, Moses and I herded the entire flock back to their night kraals..he with the twins tucked under each arm.
I have to say we are both rather worried that they appear not to be drinking yet..it was 35 degrees today, with a fierce wind blasting like a hair dryer. Fingers crossed she will bond wiuth her babies in the peace and seclusion of the nursery kraal tonight.

This is the previous arrival, who is large and healthy and joins in with the small flock wherever they go now.

The boys on the attack......I always wondered why three of the geese shouted and hissed and strutted, leaving one to graze quietly..now I know, these three are driven by vast amounts of testosterone!

Addeed to this, one of the geese has laid the first egg.Moses tells me that there are three boys and one girl . He was busy all morning creating one of his "buildings" just outside the animals kraal. I asked him what on earth he was doing and he said. "Mama gansie has egg." huge hands overdramatising an egg shape and then he pointed to his backside..I had to bite my lip! anyway he has made a strange an very inhospitable place to lay Mama gansies egg, and she has refused to sit on it all day..much to his upset. I have to say, that if I was offered a small tin space, that was facing the fierce wind that we suffered all day, I would refuse to sit on an egg if I had one to sit on.. Anyway watch this space.

The complimentary "D.P Blue" car.

I forgot to mention this funny little story.
The guys at Volkwagon in Malmsbury have been absolute stars during the two years that we have been here..the first memorable incident was replacing the drive shaft of the Tuareg in 30 minutes, in a pit stop like change. As a result of their amazing abilities, the Tureg has found itself in Malmsbury for every glitch and service..as it is some 800 kilometers from the farm..this shows you exactly how much we value the engineers and mechanics.

Anyway, we arrived on Friday morning and J6NUT was taken straight into the bay and lifting ramps. The guy who always deals with us, directed us to the complimentary vehicle ,excusing its size and lack of power compared to J6NUT.
Big and I were both cool as long as we could get a case of wine, some brie,art materials and our cases in the boot..all was fine.

He led us to a small bright blue Polo..and I laughed and said "Its Majorelle blue."  No its not, said the salesman, we call it " Dolphin penis blue!" Big and I stood and stared at him as the colour rose from his shirt collar steadily up his face, and he seemed utterly horrified to have told us some "inside gargage info"..Then Big and I just howled, it was just such a slip of the tongue by the guy, then he started to laugh..and all three of us were howling, with a mixture of embarrasement for him, and mirth at what he had said.

You can imagine that our weekend driving around Cape Town in a dolphin penis blue car,seemed to bring our attention to everything else of a similar colour. Indeed today as I walked past my newly painted wall..I had a titter..I am unable to call it my "Marjorelle" wall any longer!

Not topic appropriate by any means, but I have been trying to find out what this bird is, he has taken to drinking at the goose pond.

Collage for Little

A sample of the fabulous vehicles at the Franschhoek motor museum

Having dropped J6NUT off in Malmsbury, we shuttled on througfh to Cape Town in a small complimentary vehicle, managed to get to the art shop and buy soome supplies before racing to collect Little at 1.00 on Friday.
He was a vision in stripes! He is having physio on his knees and ankles three times a week now..his legs have grown so long, and with the injury of last year, his joints/tendons/ligaments are very overstretched and he has great difficulty running..even walking down the stairs first thing in the morning. So the school are making use of their resident physio and his legs are all taped up to aid his movement, he also has excersises to do everyday to help stabilise his joints .

Anyway he bounded up to us [he is by no means a cripple!] and flapped the sole of his trainers at us. Clearly new trainers are on the shopping list for the weekend. In an illadvised move, Big sumarily ripped the sole off of Littles trainer, causing great delight amongst the group of boys who had come to greet us.

Birthday boy with his duaghters

A busy Friday, lunching with the delightful Monique and her boys [she is in ZA for three weeks from UK] . We had arranged to meet Nils, the guy who runs the Winchester Mansions for a drink at 6.30, and ended up having a pre birthday supper with him and his family in the hotel resteraunt..much fun had by all , in particular his two daughters who couldnt be persuaded to take  their hands off the ipad.

August marks Arum lillies growing wild in all of the verges and hedgerows on the final 100 miles towards Cape Town..I simply cant believe how such beautiful flowers grow like weeds, it was like seeing blue bells enmasse, and I wanted to stop and just pick armfulls of them...Big doesnt share my greed for arum lillies and so we hurtled past them at speed.

On Saturday we woke to heavy mist and rain..I mean English rain..Cats and Dogs stuff ,and it was cold. So we headed out to Franschhoek to find the motor museum and restock with my favorite wine and some french cheeses for Big. All succesfully achieved and we returned to Cape Town for a late supper at Key4 on the Waterfront..still searching for Littles size 13[ uk adult!] trainers..the shops are open late at the Waterfront, and at 9.00 we became fed up with the snorts of ridicule from every shiop we went into...NO ONE had trainers this big, and the Edwins were starting to regret the high jinks with which they had ripped his old ones apart!

<>Whoops..I dont know how this oversized picture managed to find its way here..and I am unable to remove it..apologies to Little<>

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Little in a cold corner of Q4`s ourside resteraunt, fed up with shoe hunting.

Sunday morning in Cape Town is always a difficult one. We have to be on the road homeward bound by 12.30, in order to make it back to the farm before dark..it being far too dangerous to travel through the desert landscape in the dark [sun sets about 7.00pm]..by dangerous, I mean animals and birds racing across the  landscape and into the car.

Little demonstrating how to consume the "Mango tongues", left in our room at the Mansions. DISGUSTING!

 Little had been invited to attend the school rugby braai by one of his buddies, and before we dropped him off at the high school, we had one last attempt at finding trainers..in a huge sports shop, about 2 minutes from school, we found the last pair of size 13 trainers in South Africa..HURRAH!

Feeling suitably delighted, we left Little in the company of his friends and wended our way back to Malmsbury to collect a serviced J6NUT,and headed homeward..as it was ,we didnt get back to the farm, until well after dark at 8.30. The dogs were, as always beside themselves to see us.

View of palm fronds from the galleried landing of the Mansions.

Thursday night in a shed

We left Marchand for Cape Town last Thursday, as we had to drop the car of in Malmsbury for a major service, and so Big asked Willem [who originates from Clanwilliam] what the name of the fantastic little guest house was at the end of the town [we had stayed here about four years ago.] Willem didn't know, but said not to worry he would arrange us a bed at his parents friends guest house, just down the road from their house.
We arrived in Clanwilliam at around 6.00n pm, the entire town had been cordoned off for the "Wild flower show", it being a very parochial little town [but as quaint as it gets in ZA], I was suitably tickled by the idea of "Wild flowers" in this sleepy farming community...this is about as "Wild" as it gets in Clanwilliam.
Anyway, we eventually teamed up with "Trevor", the guest house owner. I have to say he was an extremely jolly fellow, and as he bent his head into the open car window to shake our hands, I was overwhelmed by the unmistakable aroma of Johnny Walker. Trevor directed us to the second large closed gate that bounded his property and explained that our accommodation lay behind it.
When the huge gates finally opened, we saw what looked remarkably like a garden shed, directly in front of us. Trevor popped out of the fast descending mist and pointed us in its direction. Yes..Willem had booked us into a shed for the night! Those of you who know Big, will imagine his response, and he was totally unrestrained with Trevor.

Everything about our stay was slightly "Tipsy"

"Ahhh, but Mr Klinkenberg, this is like no other shed in the world." Actually it was remarkably like a thousand other garden sheds, except it had a bed and a small shower room and toilet. It was rather grandly called Pineapple orchard. Trevor seemed utterly unmoved by Bigs snipping comments, and when he was asked what time breakfast was served, Trevor responded that the orchard was full of oranges and grapefruits, " Just help yourself, and if you are off very early, pop up to the house, I may still be up with my friend Johnny Walker."
He wagged his finger at us and said, don't forget to set the alarm on the cottage, if you decide to eat out tonight..well that was a red flag to Big, who snorted about an alarm being needed for a garden shed, unceremoniously refused to set the alarm, grabbed me and we headed to the best restaurant in town "The Elephant House" for supper. We lingered for as long as possible over supper, as it was getting increasingly cold and damp outside and we both felt that the shed would afford little protection against the weather. Neither of us had brought our silk long johns and we were bracing ourselves for a cold night.

I woke around 6.00 ish and it was cold and damp, but we had both managed to snuggle up and keep warm through the night, I stepped outside with coffee to watch the sun rising in the orchard ,and to see if Trevor was telling "porkies" about the oranges and grapefruit..he wasn't!, it was then that I noticed an assortment of bottles strapped into the branches of a tree, and then a rather tipsy looking dwarf at the base of a Heath Robinson garden bench...I wonder if we had seen these in the gloom, the night before, we might have been better armed for Trevor and his curious hosting skills.

There were slow motion sounds coming from the main house, sitting above us on the terrace, so I thrust a coffee at Big and we managed to leave by 7.30 am, having left our payment of 400R on the rickety table of Pineapple orchard. Big was still grizzling about the shed and the lack of breakfast...... and I imagine Willems ears may well have been burning.

Pot calling kettle black

A gardening week has been had by me, this week, and I have had a blissful time, rearranging my jungle border.

 Planting the Oregano borders to my raised braii room beds, lilies from Eugene in there as well, I have painted the back of the braai room wall blue [just a single wall] and planted Leopard trees and a Mulberry in the old kraal.

Grown Leopard trees..mine are simple twigs in the ground at the moment.

The vines are now budding.

The geese getting very cross that we were in their kraall.

The grass is really starting to take hold now, although I realise that there is a definite technique in propagating grass in the desert. For a start its the kukoy grass that we planted in the Stukkies in June, needs to be mowed and kept very short so that it sends runners out and doesn't grow upwards, it is easily overwatered so we have had to reduce its watering to every other day.
Now poor Moses needs to mow the sparse lines of infant grass. Not helped by Bongo leaping all over him with delight that someone is joining him in the krall..this is where Bongo does his crazy 10 minute circles at frightening speed every day. It drives Bossy wild to see him doing this, as the grass is not deeply rooted and it looks as though someone has been using the area as a horse racing track after Bongs has finished..But I love to watch him do it. Sheer exuberance in his power and speed.

Bongo inspecting the Mulberry tree planted by the Goose chalet.

Anyway, on Wednesday I was heavily involved in my jungle boarder, weeding and clearing, Moses came racing into the jungle.."Missus come." Wide eyed and flapping his great hands as he does..so I ran out of the jungle boarder in a state of chaos, secateurs in hand, and BLT throwing knife at my waist.
There on the other side of out green gates,[ which were being unhooked!,] was a very pretty, rather dusty Porche.
As I trundled through the dismantled gates and down the dusty track of our drive [secateurs still in hand] I realised that it was Cecilia, with her boss Brigitte behind the wheel, they are visiting their clients in the Northern Cape..remeber the standard apparel for our area is safari gear for both men and women..OMG! both dressed in their finest clothes as they disembarked from the car, they were toppling in the gravel on very high spiky heels.
There was no way that either of them will be able to get to the farm in those shoes..so I counselled them against the treck and asked if they had spare shoes in the car... Brigitte found a pair of shiny patent black flats..with a large Gucci buckle. Cecilia found a pair of towelling bedroom slippers [ Hurrah for Cecilia], so we marched to the farm, Moses and the boys working on the gates gobsmacked by the spectacle of the porche and its occupants.
Brigitte was the lady who very kindly drove Finn around the Krugar park in her porche when he was stuck in Joberg for one of his extra weeks here in March/April [remember the volcanic ash clouds] So I had the opportunity to thank her and sit in my gardening kit..having a great deal of banter with the two, Cecilia is the lady who does all of Bigs freight forwarding in Cape Town, and she is a real sweetie, she often goes and gets Little if he is at school for a weekend and takes him out with her daughter for the day..She has become a great friend to us all. We know Brigitte less well.

Outside looking in

Bee ,a beautiful foil to the Marjorelle wall

Anyway, they both loved my blue wall, I have just realised where the seed for this was planted... About 5 years ago, Jessie and Polly, Viki and I went to Marrakesh for 10 days. We visited the beautiful Jardin du Majorelle. The stunning blue was used liberally by the original owner Jacques Majorelle. The garden was purchased and then restored in the 60`s by Pierre Berge and Yves Saint Laurent. If ever you visit Marrakesc please do take a trip around the gardens they are beautiful.
It is also a wonderful excuse to show you some of my photos of our memorable trip!

Marjorelle gardens

Graffiti on the bamboo at the Marjorelle Gardens

Anyway back to Brigitte, standing staring at my blue wall, in expensive clothes and sunglasses with her Gucci bag and shoes..all a little dull from the dust..Brigitte came out with a classic statement, "I don't think you really belong in the Northern Cape my darling!" Cecilia and I just hooted...pot calling kettle black or what.

Talk about beutifully dressed ladies..isnt this a stunning picture.. I dont recall where I found it but it is quite stunning.

                              

Screaming Green, a blissful day in the garden, pronking and high jinks

An image that I have randomly discovered that tickles me, I watched a programme all about" Reverse graffiti recently, this deserves to be up here as well..

Captain..Pronounced "CAPTINE" is a small white Maltese terrier, who belongs to Willem and Gerda, they live across the Augrabies road, directly opposite our driveway. This is a story about him, but in order to explain properly you need to know the terrain between W & G and us and also some perfectly useless information about my gardening exploits.
Our main entrance opens out onto the Augrabies road. It's a B road, and sound enough to deal with the many trucks that travel along it carrying supplies to and from the farms, the tractors and trailers that bump along it, and the many visitors to Augrabies waterfalls 15 kilometres beyond us, as well as a regular succession of workers walking to and from their places of work at all times of the day.
The other side of our entrance, across the Augrabies road, is a gravel drive and as one follows its slope downward ; you drop down into W & Gs farm. We are on the top of a hill..that is what "De Bult" means.
Our dusty drive way is probably a half kilometre up a fairly steep slope, and past our vineyards, to the temperamental electric green gates of the farm. Some days these gates refuse to open at all. Other days, they open half way and just as you go through them, they decide to close.
Jessie Tommy Finn and Little will remember how frightened I used to get at the level crossing when we did the school run in England every morning. Sometimes the gates would start to come down, as I was driving across the tracks..And a loud siren would sound and it always made me scream involuntarily and stamp my foot down hard on the accelerator. They all thought it very amusing..I didn't. Well the green gates at the farm have a similar effect on me.
They are being renovated to make them more reliable, I hope that Moses will paint them white. There is something institutionalised about the particular colour green that has been used, and I don't like it! [its probably just the fact of being gated inside that I don't like]

No green gates at the moment

Anyway..to progress the tale, I worked all day in the garden yesterday. I have found a use for the waste produce, left over from cleaning the raisins at the factory..the dried stalks, rejected raisins and assortment of organic matter, make a brilliant mulch for our dry soil here..So Skelm, the gardener who doesn't garden!, has been bringing up trailer loads of raisin mulch for me. As you all know, he doesn't understand why I like to dig in the garden, nor does he agree with my use of raisin mulch.

Jungle garden

Every time he sees me spreading it, he does a little war dance and points at the tress, and then pretends to peck at the ground. I think [I HOPE!] that he is suggesting that birds will come and peck at the mulch. I do a little war dance back to him that says "I`m cool with birds, I like them pecking at my mulch!" It seems my dance is less articulate than his, as he leaves shaking his head.
So All day I had been busy laying mulch in my jungle garden and bracing myself to start digging the iris boarder that I made last year [the one with Stonehenge boarders], if I ask Skelm to weed it, he simply chops the heads off the weeds, shuffles soil around and looks proudly at his work. Since he refuses to weed properly, I do it! With the help of Bongo and Bee, who usually come and lay in the exact spot that I am weeding, so much fighting for territory goes on. Yesterday I sat watching Bongo doing pronking..Pronking is a new adjective that I have just learned; it's what springbok do when they are alarmed. The word sounds rather rude to me, but hey what do I know.
They jump with all four legs and kind of curve their bodies in the air..when they hit the ground they leap again..very strange.
Well I realise that Bongo does two legged pronking, when he has the scent of something, it's usually an insect of some kind, but I always think it may possibly be a scorpion or worse..a snake. [don't worry..I have my "Bronco Lane Throwing knife" with me at all times, as well as my Machete.] Bongo jumps up into the air, [leaving his hind legs firmly planted on the ground] and bounces on the spot, but with his head arched fiercely down, nose pointing at what he has spotted, and with his ears cocked firmly forward.
He had been doing this in the iris border for some time and had then become distracted by something else. So I left the border for a few minutes and then attacked the weeds, making lots of noise, to ward off anything unpleasant. I leant over the Stonehenge border and rested a hand on the soil while I went to dig with the short fork. My left hand made contact with something cool, squidgy and flesh like, and it was moving under my hand.... My screech defied anything that I had hitherto used exiting our green gate or going over level crossings.
I leapt up, shaking my hands furiously..it was a large ugly TOAD!! Bongo and Bee lay in the irises and watched me, racing around in circles on the lawn, shouting "Yuck..Yuck YUCK!" and waving my hands as if there was something still attached to them. They were as impressed with me, as I was with Bongs pronking earlier.
By around 3.00pm Bongs and Bee, had had enough of "helping me in the garden" and had retired inside to sleep, it being around 27 degrees. I was covered in filth, I can't use gloves, so my hands were covered in dried mud , fingernails black, I had large oval patches of dirt on the knees of my jeans and my hair was slapped to my skull..[I must remember to find a hat for gardening]..This is how I like to work in the garden..real hands on stuff.

new braai room raised borders

Grass freshly mown and growing

At a certain moment I had the sense of being watched, and turned around to see a small white dog considering my every action. When he saw me he wiggled with delight..it was Captine, G& W`s Maltese terrier, who is a great character, in his head he thinks that he is a really BIG dog!. Never ever has he been anywhere near our farm, let alone inside our green gates. Mercifully Bongs and Bee had not picked up his scent, so he jumped around and had some fun with me, until we heard Bongs scratching at the front door.
I knew it would take him only moments to reach the open bedroom doors, so I whisked Captine up and headed for the car, sadly Bongo and Bee caught us. Bee was delighted by Captine and I would have put him down if it were just her, but Bongo was growling in a very meaningful way and a ridiculously brave Captine was reciprocating like he was some kind of match for Bongs. The incident almost made ME break out into a PRONK!

blue wall and raised beds.

After much juggling, I managed to get Bongs and Bee inside the house and Captine into the car, and whisked through the open gates [that's how he got in] and down to W& G`s. Now Captine loves to drive..and I really mean drive. [ I drove him and Gerda to the club house one evening]. Captine places his back feet on the driver's thighs and his front feet on the steering wheel, following its movement like a hamster in an exercising ball, and stretching his head upward so that he can see out of the windscreen. So it was in this manner that we arrived at W&G`s farm. They were not there but their gardener and lady who "does" were. Neither speaks English.

So I hopped from the car, forgetting the state I was in, and started to do my dancing explanation of why I had a wriggling little Captine in my arms. Honestly their eyes just got wider and wider.

You know when you sense someone is not understanding you, you become even more exadurated in your speech. Well without any recognisable speech for them, I just acted out [or danced as I like to call it] the sequence of events that I felt had brought Captine to my garden...Not a good idea, both seemed frightened at this point and I could see that they were fearful for Captine`s safety..So I released him, and the lady hurriedly scooped him up and raced him into the house.

It was only when I returned to the farm entering via our bedroom and into the bathroom that I saw the dreadful state that I was in..covered in mud .Filth, smeared across my face..twigs in my hair..sodden dirty jeans, and the black hands, Hey ho, I wonder if they will know who I was, and I bet that they don't tell W&G.

Random picture from the jungle garden.

Eugenes art work

I know that Eugene will not object to my posting some of his work, he has been a brilliant help to me in the garden these past two weeks and any exposure that I can get him will be some way of repaying his kindness.

He is succesfully selling his animal studies and landscapes to the local markets, but his more abstract stuff cant find an audience here in the Northern Cape.

Photos

It appears that by choosing the Picasa programme to post my photos, all the others have gone A.W.O.L. So I have made a collage of all of the photos that I have ever posted, it sits below THE KAKAMANIAN title, the photos should change each time the blog is viewed [if I have pressed the correct boxes!] continual learning curve or what!

The trip to Riemvasmaak

From the base of the ravine
Look at the shape of  the African continent in background.

Trip to Riemvasmaak 
We have had a busy few weeks, with visitors from Cape Town for a couple of nights and catching up with everyone here after our trip home.
Little has had a long weekend back at the farm arriving early on Friday 6^th August and departing on Monday 9^th, taking the Intercape bus on a 12 hour journey back to school for Tuesday morning.[ he is back safe and sound at school now!]

Louise, Christen and Floyd Fox Jnr.

Both fed up with chasing 3 year old Floyd over the rock maze as he skipped over it like a goat!

On Sunday we were invited to join the Fox family [they live in Augrabies] to take the trip to Riemvasmaak, hot springs in the mountains that we can see from the front of our farm.

We met the Fox`s at the entrance to their farm at 10.30am ,[ with instructions to bring plenty of cool drinks, ice and a toilet roll!] We travelled for a half an hour North West, on tarmac roads towards Namibia. The vines around Augrabies are already budding, it being even a few more degrees hotter than we are in Marchand [only 15 km down the road].
After a while we turned onto a gravel road, which brought us steeply  through a stunning twisty ravine in the mountains  where the Orange river is crossed by a huge new bridge.

The plateu in the background marks the Namibian border

           

 Then we turned onto an even more makeshift track, and travelled into the wilderness for about an hour meeting only one donkey en route.

Amazed that this donkey was snapped as we were travelling at great speed over rocks at the time!
he was the only living creature we saw on our trail, and was as amazed to see us as we were to see him!
I can just imagine him thinking ..."WHAT!!!"

The rockscape drive through the mountains was amazing, the vegetation differs from around us with many spiky aloes spread around the tumble of ricks, and some small "shepherds bush trees", clinging to the side of mountain faces. Soon we found ourselves travelling down a shingle track and very sheer drop into the ravine known as Reevansmaack. There are a few log style chalets here, but really nothing else for miles and miles.

Big, negotiating the terrain

The best way of describing this site is as a small oasis in the middle of an inhospitable and totally prehistoric landscape.

Down into the ravine

The land has been given to the black community here; they run this site under the auspices of the Reevmansmaak Trust. We paid around 70 Rand [ £ 5/6]to spend the day there. It is totally undeveloped with small handwritten signs and nothing but a dangerously steep decent [and acsent] to and from the hot springs.

At the base of the ravine are bulbous rocks forming a maze, which once negotiated, lead to three hot springs. In the maze of rocks, there are small areas where one can set up a braai and cook, apart from a small building with toilets on the main approach, there is nothing commercialised about this site at all.

Hot spring in the rock face

The natural acoustics, created by the sheer rock faces that surround the valley, cause a strange echo, so that one can sit and take in the stunning contrast of the blue, blue sky and the oranges rocks and listen to the peeling cry of the black eagles that circle way above in the thermals. There is no mobile reception here at all, so you do feel completely removed from the rest of the world.
Two of the natural warm springs here, have been manicured and bricked around to produce two small cobbled areas around the warm springs, the third is an area where the water has carved a deep bowl in the stone face and the water is clear and tepid and quite beautiful.

Little chillaxing in his "SIMPLES" t-shirt

Taz you will be delighted to see Little wearing the tee shirt that you gave him!
Floyd tells us that many of the local farmers will come here late in the afternoon, pitch a tent between the rocks, or rent one of the three chalets perched on the sides of the ravine. They will braai down by the springs until late at night..the night sky is stunning as the rockscape here, and then when everyone has had enough, they will meander back through the rocky maze to find their beds. It is apparently a regular day/night wilderness trip for many locals, who clearly don't consider themselves already close to nature in their farms along the Orange River.

Little relaxing on top of a rock while the boys get the braai started.

I have to say, the place was stunning, in the same brutal way that the rest of the landscape is here in the Northern Cape.
I was told that the name means "Ox tie up". This is where the drovers of years ago rested their cattle, having driven them through these inhospitable mountains; they bathed in the warm springs, in readiness for the long haul to Upington. Probably a further 175 km from here.
When we arrived Big was already churlish about the place and Little was being quite teenagerish over the whole thing, but as the day wore on, all of us began to relax and chill..it turned out to be a fantastic day. Very different to our usual Sundays!

Kissing rocks on top of the ravine...We kept fingers crossed that we wernt here when another  earth tremour started..