AUGRABIES FALLS
Earlier this year, the people of the Northern Cape pricked their ears: Heavy summer rains and full dams upstream along the Orange River meant floodwaters and a great noise were coming to Augrabies Falls National Park.
“I’m caught in a flurry of droplets and I can barely see. The wet granite is slippery and I’m immersed in the sound of rushing water. It drips from above and sings from below.”
From a distance, I can see a plume of spray above the Augrabies waterfall, like a long finger beckoning me closer: Come look, this is where slabs of granite tear open into a deep gorge and the Orange River – currently in flood – tumbles more than 50m into a frothing pool.
I can hear the soft murmur of a river flowing at speed. It’s a few minutes before 7 am and I’m in a short queue at the gate of Augrabies Falls National Park, about 40 km north-west of Kakamas. I was up early because it’s mid-February – not only will the summer sun soon scorch down, but the park has also seen an increase in visitors over the last few weeks and I want to make sure I beat the crowds to the waterfall.
In the rest camp, I pop into the offices of park manager Angela Isaks and socioeconomic transformation officer Christine du Plessis for a quick chat.
“When the lockdown restrictions loosened a little last year and people could travel in their own provinces again, the people of the Northern Cape started to stream to the park,” Angela says. “People discovered their province and Augrabies anew… and then the floodwaters arrived. The park had about 3 000 visitors a day over the past weekend.”
“South Africans are definitely exploring their own country – we have seen some unusual numberplates pass through the gates in the last few weeks,” Christine adds. Augrabies Falls National Park was established in August 1966 and is currently about 520 km² in size. The area around the Orange River has been inhabited since the Early Stone Age; these days it’s an economic hub, where table grapes, citrus fruit, peaches, cotton, lucerne and pecan nuts are produced.
“The waterfall has an interesting history,” says Christine. “A local farmer called Piet Nel bought it in 1893 and owned it until 1910 when he sold it to the Union government for 9 000 pounds. He didn’t like paper money so he was paid in gold pounds. As far as we know, Augrabies might be the only waterfall in the world that was ever sold.”
How many provinces can say they have a waterfall worth its weight in gold?
I kept a close eye on the flood levels in the weeks before my visit, hoping to go see the waterfall at its peak. Every day I checked to see how much rain had fallen in the Orange River’s catchment area; how full the Gariep, Vanderkloof, Bloemhof and Vaal dams were, and how fast the water was flowing at the Neusberg gauging station about 45 km upstream from the waterfall.
The Orange River is flowing at a rate of 2 202 cumec (cubic metre per second) at Neusberg today, considerably more than the average flow of 30 – 50 cumec when the river is not in flood. I walk down to the main waterfall – a level dirt path takes you to the boardwalk, which in turn leads you to the gorge and the different viewpoints. The soft murmur of earlier is now a deafening roar. Augrabies is living up to its name: In Nama, “Aukoerebis” means “the place of great noise”.
The torrent of water churning down the gorge fills me with awe. I find myself clinging to the high guard rails – if a rogue wave were to pull you in here, it’s easy to imagine that you’d only be spat out when the river gets to the Atlantic Ocean 517 km away. Smaller waterfalls cascade over the opposite side of the gorge and the wet granite shimmers in the sun. I don’t know where to look because everything is beautiful.
The waterfall is a magical place and the deep pool beneath is the source of many myths: It’s said that a fortune’s worth of alluvial diamonds is hidden beneath the swirling waters, and barbel up to 2 m long patrol the depths.
The pool is also home to the mythical water snake.
“The legend of the big water snake is told from here to Namaqualand, wherever there is a river or a spruit, and there are many different versions,” Angela and Christine told me earlier. “Some say the snake leaves a shiny object on the riverbank to catch your eye, or it uses the diamond on its head to lure you closer. It can also imitate the call of any animal and will pull you into the water when you venture too close. The legend is a deterrent, a way for adults to protect children against the dangers of the river.”
I peer down into the froth under the main waterfall, but (un)fortunately I don’t see any
shiny objects. When it’s time to leave, I pause for a while next to the big rock slabs. Where there is water, there is life, even here on the edge of the gorge. Swallows sweep through the air, brown-veined white butterflies flit between puddles, and Augrabies flat lizards bask in blue and orange glory.
Augrabies in flood is a spectacle, but the river isn’t always this full. Is the park still worth a visit when it’s dry? Definitely!
When there is less water, the focus is on the gorge itself: You can see where the water has carved potholes into the rock and how big the ravine really is – 18 km long and about 200 m deep in places.
The park is quiet and safe and the main waterfall and rest camp make up only a small part of it – Augrabies is about 50 km wide and ends near the border where Namibia cuts a corner into South Africa.
You can explore the game area in the park on foot or in your vehicle. The green seams of surrounding vineyards and orchards soon vanish and you’re surrounded by an arid rock landscape. The natural vegetation here is called “Orange River broken veld”.
The quiver tree is king and koppies erupt in shades of orange gneiss, grey granite and pink quartz. You’ll see a gemsbok in the distance and a dassie might scurry away, but the real attraction here is the landscape.
Many visitors only spend a night in the park, on their way to see the wildflowers of Namaqualand or the lions of the Kgalagadi. But stick around a little – a taste of Augrabies is not enough, you need time to chew on its extreme contrasts.
After a drive in the arid game area, I’m ready for more water. At the main waterfall, I walk left down the side of the gorge to where a rainbow hangs over the spray. The main and smaller waterfalls collide here and I’m quickly drenched in the drizzle. The river has a wild smell: It smells like fish, like rain after drought, like mud, reeds and sun-baked rocks. I’m caught in a flurry of droplets and I can barely see. The wet granite is slippery and I’m immersed in the sound of rushing water. It drips from above and sings from below.
Who wants a pot of gold when you can get a desert full of water instead?