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Ialways knew the Karoo was vast, but not how vast until I started travelling the region thoroughly. America has its Great Plains, Australia the Outback and here we have the Karoo. It is a place that takes your breath away even if you just pass through, but its real jewels are often hidden at the end of a long gravel road. And to explore those gravel roads you can’t just be driving through, you’ll need to take your time.
The gate to the Klein Karoo
The R62 between Cape Town and Oudtshoorn is often described as an alternative to the N2.With its interesting towns and beautiful landscapes the R62 is definitely the better call, though I couldn’t help but wonder if there’s an alternative to this alternative with a vehicle suitable for gravel. And indeed, in a strip just north of the R62 there’s an unspoilt area where you’ll encounter even less people and more spectacular scenery. North of the R62, in the direction of the N1, lie two beautiful Cape Nature reserves – Anysberg and Swartberg. What’s more, there are a number of proper mountain passes linking them. And the cherry on top: One of those jewels at the end of a gravel road: Gamkaskloof, also known as Die Hel. It’s late morning when I drive through the rock arch at the old English fort on the Kogmanskloof Pass just outside Montagu. Some people reckon this “gate” in the mountain is the entrance to the Klein Karoo and it is indeed a suitable welcome. My passenger for this trip is my friend Kirstie Liu, a Californian who’s been living in Cape Town for a while. So she’s caught on to the importance of padkos and learned the word “biltong”, which she promptly shouts out as soon as we enter the town. We make a quick stop for provisions before heading towards the Langkloof Pass, which connects to the Ouberg Pass and then continues north over the Karoo’s mountains.
Where peace and quiet are infectious
We keep going north over the passes and about 52km after Montagu we reach the western gate of the Anysberg Nature Reserve. From here it’s another 27km to the camp, roughly in the middle of the park.The reserve is oblong and sits snugly in a valley between the surrounding mountains. We reach camp just before sunset and the office is already closed, but the key to our cottage is waiting in the front door. The heat of the day still lingers, so we make a beeline for the large swimming pool – the perfect oasis for a sundowner. The next morning I pop into the office where I meet Adri and Marius Brand. They have been living and working here for the past eight years, says Adri, and tells me of all the activities in the park. “The older folk enjoy bird watching and the plants, since we have a lot of rare flora here. Then we also have hikes and mountain biking,” she says. “We are the only Cape Nature reserve that offers horse riding and it is one of the few places where you can ride out, sleep over and come back the next day.” Tapfontein has four cottages 21km away from the office, only accessible by 4x4. There’s also an 80km long 4x4 trail over the mountain, but Adri tells me it’s temporarily closed. “We are in the process of repairing it,” she says. “In December and January we usually get thunderstorms, but we don’t like that type of rain since it floods all our roads. As dry as it is here, the water can come down in force!” Adri enjoys living here, but says one needs to be able to adapt to other places, too. “I can, but Marius doesn’t even want to go to the other side of the mountain!” she laughs. I can understand that, because I can see how one can get used to the peace and quiet here. We say our goodbyes and get in the bakkie to head for the eastern gate. Outside the gate I take a left at a T-junction. Turning right takes you to Ladismith and Zoar on a slightly shorter route, but by keeping north and then taking the R323 further east I can drive through the Seweweekspoort Pass.
The road to Hell
So far, the landscape has gradually revealed itself with wide open plains and moderate mountain passes. But here, in the Seweweekspoort, the rocky cliffs on either side of the road reach up into the sky in dramatic fashion. I have to drive slowly because I’m mesmerised by the landscape either side of the narrow gravel road trying to find a way out of the folds in the mountain.
West of Zoar the road joins the R62 again and on tar it’s a quick 28km to Calitzdorp. From here you can continue on the R62 to Oudtshoorn and then turn north to the Swartberg Pass, but there is a shorter and prettier gravel road that takes you past the Calitzdorp dam and over the Huis se Hoogte Pass to the start of the Swartberg Pass. I’ve been over the Swartberg Pass a few times before, but the spectacular scenery still takes my breath away every time. I can understand why it is on so many people’s bucket list.
Today however, I have my own bucket list item to tick off: Gamkaskloof. The sign at the top of the Swartberg Pass that reads “Gamkaskloof 37 Travelling time 2 hours” has always tickled my curiosity, and now I finally have the chance to go see it for myself. Almost immediately the landscape opens up in front of the bakkie and I can see the road curl over the creases of the mountains all the way to the horizon. The road is in a good condition and you could probably do it in less than two hours, but you don’t want to do that. Scenery like this should be appreciated. So I take my time, and it’s a good thing too, since around every other corner I come across a couple of klipspringers in the road. They are clearly not very concerned with oncoming traffic, but I guess this is their territory after all. In Greek mythology it is Cerberus, a monstrous three-headed dog, who guards the gates of Hell. Here in Gamkaskloof it seems we have a gang of klipspringers. About 33km down the road we round a corner and suddenly the Gamkaskloof reveals itself to us in all its glory. From where I stand I can see the last 4km of road wind down to the valley in a series of hairpin bends and then disappear un--
der a green strip of trees running into the distance. Die Hel is green and beautiful. Once again it is almost sunset when we reach our accommodation for the evening – the Skoolmeester cottage in Cape Nature’s Ouplaas section of the valley. And once again the key is waiting for us in the front door. I’ll go sign in tomorrow, I think while lighting a fire. “Hell has a splash pool!” Kirstie calls excitedly from the other side of the house.
In the Valley of the Lions
The next morning I meet the reserve manager, Martin Botha, at the information office. “What can one do here? Well, there is a bit of history at each of our houses,” he starts. “We have two walking trails, you can rent mountain bikes and if you like to fish we sell the licenses here too. And when it is new moon, it’s so dark here that you can’t see your hand in front of your face.Then we have the best starry skies outside of Sutherland.” Everything sounds great, but why does one really want to ‘go to Hell,’? I want to know from Martin. “Man, it’s for the peace and quiet, the food for the soul,” he answers. “In town you can easily live past one another. I won’t say you should come and sort your marriage problems out here, but it has happened!” Martin tells me there are less than 25 permanent residents in the Kloof.The only original ‘Kloower’ still left is Tannie Annatjie Joubert from Fonteinplaas.The rest are ‘incomers,’ but perhaps they are just the start of a new generation of Kloowers, because Gamkaskloof has a way of taking hold of you. “In April I will have been here for 10 years.Then I think I finally qualify as a Kloower!” laughs Martin. “You need a heart to live here. It’s lekker, but not always easy. Our telephones have been off for the last three weeks, for example. So you can’t even communicate with your family.” Die Hel is a nickname that apparently originates from the steep gradient of the surrounding mountains (‘hellings’ in Afrikaans), the searing heat and the stories of visitors about how difficult it was to reach this once isolated place. “The Kloowers weren’t fond of the name at all. For them it was just Gamkaskloof, The Valley of the Lions. That was the Khoi name for it, even though there weren’t any lions here,” says Martin. I say goodbye to him to explore the walking trails, but the heat soon has us heading back for the cool(er) shade of our cottage.
The new Kloowers
After lunch we swing by the shop at Fonteinplaas. We’ve just missed Tannie Annatjie, I hear, because she left the Kloof for a break this morning. Instead I meet her daughter-in-law, Marinette Joubert. She has been living here for 14 years with her husband Piet. “This place is very special. Firstly there’s the road leading here. It’s beautiful and it’s nice to say that you have driven to Hell and back!” she laughs.
To explore these gravel roads you can’t just be driving through, you’ll need to take your time.”
If you like history you should talk to the people here, because it is really intense.”
Marinette reckons you have to spend at least two nights in Gamkaskloof to truly appreciate it. “If you like history you should talk to the people here, because it is really intense. And then, of course, there’s the atmosphere when you stay here.You have your preconceived ideas of the place, but it is great to sit around a fire at night and think about what it must have been like to live here in the old days.” The isolation doesn’t really bother Marinette. In fact, she says her days are chock-a-block. “There are always things to do on a self-sufficient farm,” she explains. “A lot of people come with old ideas about the Kloowers who lived totally isolated from the outside world, but it is not true today,” says Marinette. “At home we have Wi-Fi, so with things like Facebook we have contact with friends and family. And with Google we know exactly what goes on in the world,” she explains. I ask her if she would ever live somewhere else. “We are the fifth generation to live on this property and I hope our children would one day like to live here, too,” answers Marinette. Later that evening I am sitting next to the fire and I think about my conversation with Martin and Marinette. Yes, life was probably quite hard in this valley. But the unspoilt beauty of the place is enthralling. Could I live here? Perhaps. And even though the building of the road back in the day contributed to the