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March, the ‘illusive’ month — summer slipping, days shortening, but it’s all an illusion!
Still so much time in the day to jorl! Take the kids to Nahoon, if it’s open for a glorious sunset goef; apricot rays creating a gentle warmth at Ihlanza, if it’s not polluted.
Now is the time for all cunning locals to travel.
My dad did it, packed all the kids in the Cortina and trekked from Cambridge to Nahoon beach.
Unfortunately his friend gave the 10-year-old a ride on his tank (long board) and that was the start of a lifelong passion.
I basically ran away from home to the beach, and how many of us did not do the same?
We lived in a tightly sealed social and cultural orb, which the ocean, at least for this scribe, burst with a glorious spray and rumbling.
This was the life, right here at Nahoon Beach, then Corner, then Nahoon Reef.
But back to the present. We all know that the Karoo is in full bloom and that we have to get there before the El Nino air fryer turns it all to toast.
The Gauties are gone, the weather has calmed, and we have the Eastern Cape all to ourselves, and I mean all of it!
It is quite amazing how many people have rural links, in my case to the Karoo, and they stay simmering in the psyche, calling like rock doves in the dolerite crags, and stinky diesel tractors, floor polish and paraffin.
And quiet! Damn, so quiet.
You arrive all anxious and go-getterish from the city and then, well there is just a patch of grass under the thorn tree, or a house with a stoep. The sound of sheep and goats bleating and that hint of drol in the air.
This is not the same as the stench that drifts over the city when a cattle ship docks. Now that is an altogether different experience.
So from having a rather settled, placid Christmas of Buccaneers camp site and non-larney Cefani, I am suddenly looking at a 5km swim out to the bell buoy off Gqeberha’s coastline, a few days of learning how to sew all sorts of fantastic stitches and creative art at the inaugural Fibre and Fabric Fair at Rhodes Village, and possibly a celebratory river swim near Hamburg.
The fibre and fabric fair is a five-day event (March 11 to 15) covering multiple topics.
Classes and workshops look at how to work with IsiShwehswe, painting with fibre and fabric, vintage knitting and crochet patterns, wool vignettes, crazy patchwork, a wonderbag demo (a great electricity-saving and delicious way to cook), block printing on fabric, how to use and look after your sewing machine, a scrapbusting bowl demo, Sri Lankan embroidery, sew a postcard or bowl, creative knitting and knitting a scarf, shawl, and ponchini, Nuno felting, a spinning demo, Kawandi-style quilting, machine and hand embroidering, patch-patch Boro style stitching, and knitting brioche in the round.
I have never heard of some of these styles, but no doubt I will be threading my way through this underground patchwork of sewers and knitters with eyes wide open.
Maybe they will have a secret language, or hand shake, and if they lapse into sewing speak, will I feel left out and alienated?
I know Rhodes Village and it is a gorgeous place, tucked into the hills with the Malutis rearing away in the background.
I also know one of the organisers, Fiona Adams — we met in then-PE and Grahamstown where we were anti-apartheid activists.
She was in the End Conscription Campaign and did some journalism. She was brave, but more than that, she was organised.
I have a deep suspicion that this festival is going to be a great success. Fi and friends will have thought it out.
Accommodation tends to be awesome — some modern, some historic. There will be food, two hotels and a studio cafe, doctors, you name it.
There is a fair office, an accommodation number, free Wi-Fi, a storytelling supper, a market place for mohair items, hand spun yarn and examples of many of the skills and styles being work shopped.
There are farm meals to order, rock art tours, mountain walking guides, village rambles and mountain biking. Well, this is an incredible venue.
But add to that list, star gazing, riverside picnics and farm teas, swimming and tubing in the Bell river, a flower tour, fly fishing and tennis.
This is a lot to take in and let’s all put down our critic’s hats and relish the communal effort that has gone into making this a fascinating offer.
Ja, there might be a glitch or two, a loss in promise, but let’s not be prissy, pampered poodles.
Let’s put our best boot forward and give this one little village a round of applause for making from nothing something so organic and conceptually proper.
This is not your big, snobby franchise churning away; this is people putting their backs to the wheel and spinning some great yarns!
This is what we want South Africa to look and feel like — open, exciting, well-thought out, rich with learning and fun, and a community working hard.
The sis and I have booked for three or four nights, and we are excited to be heading towards the southern Berg or Eastern Highlands.
Many of us love the Wild Coast, the Baviaans, Jbay and Nieu-Bethesda because they are extraordinary.
But until you have taken the road from Barkley East and climbed onto the first plateau and been mesmerised by the Malutis running from one side of the sky to the other, well then, you are missing out on something truly spectacular.
Let’s talk money, because I am a generally penniless hack. I heard from friends that a holiday to Europe can cost dozens of thousands, R40,000 per head.
Just imagine you took that dough and got in your car and headed out and around the Eastern Cape.
Ah, sorry, the experience is incomparable.
Busy, tourist-crammed European cities with their unashamed huge prices versus a loaf of sour dough and pesto, and a flask of coffee on the nek over Compassberg?
Or hanging out at neat and orderly farm guest houses, or drifting from Hofmeyr to Molteno on the back roads.
Who are the real sheeple here?
Bring it on March.
Contact: 083-419 5105 (fair office), 083-659 3271 (accommodation).
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