Led into no man’s land

We ignored the suggested route as lunch in Dullstroom seemed like a better idea. After all, our digs for the weekend was only 30 kilometres away. Dullstroom was chilly and wet – we found the cosiest place to eat, tucked into the biggest pot pies and made a fuss over the resident Staffordshire bull terrier before rolling out of Dullstroom and hitting the road, or what was left of it. An earlier downpour turned the outbound gravel road from passable to impossible – the gravel gradually turned into a thick sludge, and we navigated over rocks, debris and even around three little pigs (no jokes). It soon became clear that this was going to be no ordinary drive. We reached a fork in the road and opted for the ‘fastest route’ that led us onto a rarely travelled single track. Thick mud caked the tyres, causing our hatchback to slide uncontrollably, narrowly missing boulders, fences and bewildered looking cattle. Only when we ambled over a cattle gate did it dawn on us that our ‘trusted’ GPS was actually taking us for a ride! The last thing we needed was to be interrogated by a farmer for trespassing. We had to turn around and plough through that muddy mess, which turned a 45-minute drive into a three-hour trek. A rare encounter with a majestic ground hornbill foraging on the roadside kept our spirits up as we got through the bad stuff and banished the GPS to the cubbyhole. As the sun slipped from the horizon, with sighs of relief we arrived at our destination, where a crackling fire, cold beer and amused hosts were awaiting us. Moral of the story: don’t trust your GPS!