The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
How this view sparked a fresh love affair
When Kay Burley visited South Africa’s Winelands, she wasn’t prepared to have her head turned. But she quickly became intoxicated with the stunning scenery, the warm hospitality – and, of course, the wine
Confession time: last year I was unfaithful, and I enjoyed it so much that I can’t wait to do it again – and as soon as possible. I have spoken to the family and they are gutted, but reluctantly say they are OK with my infidelity – and now South Africa is off the red list, I’m already packing my bags.
To explain further, for the best part of two decades my family has spent every spring or autumn in our spiritual home of Ulusaba, a game reserve in the Sabi Sands close to South Africa’s northeastern tip.
I never thought I could be tempted away from the mesmerising beauty of a covert leopard stalking on silent paws; a lion nonchalantly slumbering at sunset in front of our open-sided vehicle, leaving us to wonder if we might ever return to camp, or the privilege of being up close and personal with a thankfully short-sighted 5,070lb rhino.
But I was wrong.
My head has been turned by the scenic Winelands of western South Africa – without question one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited. Big skies not troubled by light pollution, and in every direction rolling hills covered by a mixture of vines vying for the attention of the African sun.
My infatuation began late last year, when my friend Natalie (pictured above, with Kay) and I left London late one cold evening, flew through the night on a British Airways 777, and arrived in sunny Cape Town the next morning. From the airport, we took the hour’s drive east towards the Franschhoek (literally “French Corner”) Valley, passing some of the better known South African vineyards along the way, but eventually arriving at the long driveway that leads to Mont Rochelle, a quirky 26-room boutique hotel and 100-acre vineyard nestled away in a fold of the Garden Route.
We were welcomed by hotel manager James, an affable South African with an accent stronger than twicecured biltong, who even before he said “Hello” had supplied us with two rimfull glasses of perfectly chilled champagne that were almost as big as his smile. Off to a promising start.
James ushered us through to the hotel bar – cosy, with the reassuring feel of an English country pub, and overlooking a garden strewn with giant lawn games – then regaled us with a cornucopia of delightful ways to pass the time. We could cycle around the estate, he suggested, go horseback riding among the neat rows of vines, or perhaps take the Wine Tram – an old fashioned rail car – on a tour of the vineyards. A pub crawl, we would have called it in my younger days, but I far prefer this more sophisticated moniker.
Now very relaxed (and just slightly light-headed), we declined a second glass and went to freshen up in the Cabernet Room, delighted by the bathrobes guarded by vineyard-themed rubber ducks and a note on the sound system imploring us to “turn up the volume”. We duly obliged, spending a pleasant half-hour pottering about to the accompaniment of full-volume Ed Sheeran, before meandering across to the Country Kitchen for a bite to eat.
There we positioned ourselves on a sun-drenched stone terrace, protected from the African heat by canopies stretching protectively overhead, and drank in pleasing views of the jagged Franschhoek mountain range while we munched on generous portions of carpaccio, harissa-rubbed cauliflower and poke – complemented, of course, by appropriate wines. “You always know a restaurant is good when it’s frequented by locals,” Natalie whispered as we became aware of the accents of our fellow diners. We’d scarcely been in South Africa half a day, and already a pleasant veil of tranquillity had settled over us both – such is the magic of this French Corner of the Western Cape.
Our leisurely lunch gradually drew to a close and, just as Natalie and I were mulling whether to take a wander among the vines or challenge each other to a game of giant Connect Four, another amiable gentleman appeared. This was Peter, the host of our homefrom-home for the next few days: the magnificent Manor House. This whitewashed villa in the Cape Dutch architectural style sits just a short walk from the main hotel, and beyond its solid-oak front door, there was even a floor-to-ceiling Christmas tree, fully dressed but for the two baubles we were given to place on its branches.
A four-suite villa – sleeping 12, easily large enough for a family or group of friends – was, of course, far more space than we needed, but when offered the chance to play ladies of the Manor (House), who could say no? Particularly when the manor comes with two outdoor pools, a private chef and an endless procession of fine wines and locally sourced food. I chose to sleep in the Viognier Room, with its private terrace overlooking the estate’s vineyards – a view so charming I was sorely tempted to sleep with its concertina doors open, until cautioned that the badly behaved local baboons would likely take the opportunity to make themselves at home in my room before making off with armfuls of anything that wasn’t nailed down.
Natalie, meanwhile, opted for the Loft Suite, with a bathtub big enough to accommodate the entire Springbok rugby team, and a vast balcony offering uninterrupted views of the valley and across to the Franschhoek mountain range beyond. It was here that we spent most of our mornings, waking up before the sun and meditating before being sought out by an ever-smiling Peter – for whom nothing (including scouring the locality for the prawns we had nonchalantly mentioned fancying for dinner one night) was too much trouble – wondering if we wanted a small glass of bubbles to add sparkle to our day.
It would have been easy to spend the entire trip feasting and meditating and strolling happily in the grounds, but when in the Winelands, one really must learn a little of the local grape, too. Having visited Mont Rochelle’s cellars – a tour which naturally culminated in sampling the produce – we decided our lacking knowledge of New World wines (I’m more of a gin martini girl) demanded a private tasting, and next thing we knew the resident sommelier had arrived at the Manor House and was setting out a lengthy row of glasses in preparation for a “party on our taste buds”.
Now, I say we were lacking in knowledge, but as the saying goes: I know what I like, and I know I really don’t like chardonnay. Or so I thought.
“Anything but chardonnay, thank you,” I muttered quietly to Peter. He nodded supportively, and the tasting began.
Half an hour later and I was drinking my words. I’d have confidently declared that the pale straw-coloured wine with a sharp citrus aftertaste in my glass was the estate-blended sauvignon blanc. I was pleasantly flummoxed to discover it was in fact the house chardonnay…
In my defence, I fared much better with the cab sauv and was totally blown
away by the Miko red, only produced on the estate during exceptional vintages. The wine is named in memory of the late Miko Rwayitare, the father of telecommunications on the African continent and the first black man to own a wine estate in South Africa.
Our sommelier enthused for half an hour or so about how South African wine has come of age and is now competing effortlessly on the world stage with the European big boys. We had to agree, happily choosing a chardonnay and a Miko to accompany that night’s prawn and steak dinner.
Being lady of the manor was something I could very easily get used to, but far too soon our final night beckoned. After a luxurious bath scented with local Africology bubbles, I eventually wandered into the sitting room and curled up in front of a roaring log fire.
So, as it turns out, it’s less holiday romance, more long-distance affair – and this French Corner of the Western Cape, home of the magical Mont Rochelle and effortlessly elegant Manor House, is the first place I’ll be returning to. After all, who wants a mere holiday romance when you can have a week of wine with your girlfriends?