Early darkness was starting to sweep its mantle along the veld. The wind drove icy rain before it, threatening snow. Clearly it was time to find somewhere to bed down.
So we came to stay at Lesley’s B&B in Tarkastad, on the road between Cradock and Queenstown.
From the street, it did not look like anything special, but appearances can be deceptive. Inside it proved to be spacious, comfortable and stylish. It was also home to a beautiful, friendly cat who deigned to spend the night on my bed – an added bonus in my book.
Part of the house has been turned into a restaurant, complete with pizza oven – perfect for such a chilly night. A 21st birthday bash was being held there during our stay, and Lesley sent through two pieces of delectable chocolate cake from this celebration.
A mark of these large country houses is their thick walls, so we were undisturbed by any jollifications and slept like veritable bugs in rugs.
Much to our surprise, the sun was shining the next morning, so we decided to do some exploring.
Tarkastad, in a test conducted many years ago, is said to have the second healthiest air in the world. Apparently, first prize goes to a spot in New Zealand. Whether this is still the case, or not, the sleepy town takes pride in its healthy atmosphere.
The butchery has great biltong and droëwors, selling much cheaper than city prices, so we came away armed with stocks.
A gravel road leading to the Heuningklip valley looked particularly inviting, so we took a spin along it and found it in good condition and scenic.
Soon we came across Wildschutsberg Game Farm, and managed to persuade the owner to allow us to take a look, with a view to a potential future visit. However, do not take it for granted that this courtesy will always be accorded to passing travellers.
The only reason I mention it, was a particularly unusual encounter. At Wild-schutsberg’s lodge I went for a stroll. A strange drumming noise alerted me to the fact that I had company… a tame emu was following me, and the thrumming noise came from a pouch in its throat which it inflates and vibrates.
Whenever I stopped, it looking off nonchalantly into the distance, as though it had no interest in me, then resumed stalking my tracks when I proceeded. Eventually it grew bored with this game and sauntered off into the tawny grasses.
A visit to a small graveyard on the farm gave insight into life expectation in the 1800s. One gravestone read “Died at the great age of 72 years, five months and 12 days”. Given the fact that nearly everyone else in the cemetery had exited this world in their 20s or 30s, this was indeed an achievement.
l Contact Lesley’s B&B at 045 846 0481. - Sunday Tribune