An American In The Berg

 

Lovely Photograph taken by Angus during his stay
Lovely Photograph taken by Angus during his stay

We hope you enjoy our new blog post, written by Angus Macaskill. Angus is an occasional blogger and is originally from America. At the moment he is staying in Durban and is travelling from destination to destination. During his stay he managed to spend a weekend away at Bushman’s Nek with his family. Let’s see what he had to say about his stay…

“Hold on, let me fix the suspension.”

With those words, my uncle pulled his Land Cruiser off to the side of the dirt road on which we had been travelling and began to fiddle with some controls underneath his steering column.  We were nearing the end of our 3-hour drive from Durban, and had gone as far as paved roads could take us.  I hadn’t even been in KwaZulu-Natal a whole day; we had begun our trip almost immediately after I was picked up from the airport.  “You don’t want to be driving on these mountain roads in the dark,” I was told.  After adjusting the suspension to a suitable height we were on our way.  My uncle turned to me and said “that’s much better.”  It was.

I had only been to South Africa a few times in my life, and this was my first trip to the Drakensberg.  I gazed out the window to take in the scene around me: hills and valleys rising and falling like the cresting of earthen waves.  The landscape was varied and interesting – so very different from the mostly flat farmland I was used to seeing.  It was as if long ago a great green cloth had been cast out and then forgotten, left as it was for many, many years.  I continued to ponder the ancientness of this place until we pulled up to our destination: Bushman’s Nek resort.

A curious combination of contemporary design and rustic elements, the resort seemed to blend into the environment nicely.  Walking through the front doors, we were greeted by a pleasant woody smell.  I imagined a situation where all of the trees in the area were cut down and somehow processed to create this woody smell, which would have accounted for both the scarcity of trees in the area and the cozy aroma of Bushman’s Nek.  I smiled at how funny I was, but didn’t have much more time to dwell on the thought as we were now heading out to a large patio area overlooking the rolling landscape of the Berg.  Here we ordered a couple of beers and chatted about this and that.  Before long the sun had begun to sink, and the greens and blues of the hilly landscape around us had turned to yellows and oranges.  “I’m glad that we got here when we did,” I told my uncle.  I was.

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