Plettenberg Bay, Garden Route

My mom’s rules for holidays were simple but strict: No camping, no cooking (but she still wanted to eat well), no cleaning, a warm ocean close by, scenic surroundings and her three boys must be able to amuse themselves. I vaguely remember mediocre holidays in East London and Port Elizabeth, but my dad hit the jackpot sometime around 1977 when he took us to Plett for the first time. After one week in the Beacon Isle Hotel (now the Beacon Island Resort), my mom declared that she wouldn’t mind going back there. So it came to pass that most Decembers we’d make the journey from Durbanville to the Garden Route. I’d get that holiday feeling as soon as we reached Mossel Bay, when I saw the ocean for the first time from the highway. Plett would appear like an oasis at the end of a long green tunnel on the other side of Knysna. Plett is a fun holiday town. People walk around in board shorts and flip-flops. They smile at each other. The fragrance of sunscreen wafts around in the shops while Boney M’s “By the Rivers of Babylon” blasts from the speakers. But the beaches are the town’s real drawcard. As soon as my dad stopped in the parking lot at the Beacon Isle, my brothers and I would grab our boogie boards out of the boot and sprint off to Central Beach to catch some waves. As we grew older we migrated to paddle skis and surfboards and we spent our days at Lookout Beach and Robberg. We’d bob behind the breakers and shout when a pod of dolphins popped up next to us. It was even more fun when one of them would catch a wave with you, or flip through the air just to show you who’s boss. Now and then I’d hear a whale slap its tail on the water even before I’d see it. Once, at the end of Robberg Beach, the sight of a big grey fin cutting through the surf almost gave me a heart attack. I’d seen the movie Jaws not too long before and I paddled for shore like a madman. Was it a shark? Possibly. It was a long walk back along the beach to the Beacon Isle with my board under my arm. Of course, my brothers and I were back in the water the next day. One of the photos shows my brother Francois (left) and I standing in front of the Beacon Isle, still in our boogie-boarding phase. It’s 40 years later and he still surfs every now and then before work. I think it’s time to dust off my old board and join him for some fun, preferably among the dolphins at Robberg… – Pierre Steyn