Green roof on the river
In the Kaaimans River Gorge, Chris van der Westhuyzen crosses water to enjoy a starry night on stilts
THE moment I stepped onto the deck, I knew there was no need to travel any further down the Garden Route. I found myself in a front-row seat witnessing what felt like a silent symphony orchestra, courtesy of Mother Nature.
Below, the brown water lay still, producing a flawless reflection of the towering canyon behind me. I looked towards the ocean, where foam balls rolled in quietly through the river mouth.
As the tide started to rise, the clear green water slowly pushed the brown further and further upstream. Before long, what once was little more than a narrow, murky stream had transformed into a massive glistening pool. Wow. I had to feel sorry for those who decide to pass the Kaaimans River without stopping for a visit at the Kaya.
Newcomers tend to be excited about the novel trip to the house, which often requires a daring paddle across the river, depending on the tide, of course.
My travelling companions and I arrived at full high tide. There was no mention of swimming across. We waited with our luggage and food supplies at the cemented jetty platform about 500m upstream from the house. In the distance, we spotted a figure paddling towards us in a boat. The loud echo of a whistle confirmed that it was Francis Dandara, the de facto gatekeeper of the river.
Dandara was not sure how long he’d been living at Kaaimans, but his worn-out shorts and the cuts on his feet revealed he’d seen his fair share of rising tides. It’s the Kaaimans way, he said with a grin. Within seconds, my friends and I kicked off our shoes, rolled up our jeans, and turned our backs to the warm sunshine.
After a leisurely paddle downstream towards the house, we arrived at a similar jetty on the opposite shore. My heart thumped when I saw the dazzling array of water-lovers’ toys: stand-up paddleboards, single- and double-seated kayaks and larger rowing boats. I was excited to explore every nook and cranny of the river. After yet another flawless mooring manoeuvre, Captain Francis helped to unload our gear and gave me the honour of leading us up the winding bush path towards the house.
Originally built in 1902, the Kaya has been a popular getaway destination for friends and family of the owner, Dirk Lilienfeld, who arranged for us to have the Kaya to ourselves for the entire weekend.
After showing us to our rooms, Dandara insisted that a tour of the house could wait. He recommended we make use of the daylight to explore the river. We decided to head upstream.
After paddling as far as the river would allow, we guided the rowing boat onto the white-pebble bed and continued on foot through the shallower streams. We soon reached the deeper pockets of the valley where it’s so quiet that even the faintest murmur invites a jungle echo.
Back at the Kaya, we were craving a fresh-water shower. Using wood from the local alien vegetation higher up on the mountain-face, Dandara fired up the donkey, a homemade water-heating system. We took turns to shower, a three-minute limit ensuring that no one would be left with cold water.
While waiting my turn, I strolled over to the edge of the deck. The river’s mood was changing again — green displacing brown.
Dusk was nearing and the canyon soon grew quiet. But far from being sombre, the Kaya at night had a vibrant atmosphere.
We gathered around the braai zone, where our delicious lamb potjiekos was cooking over the coals. From the outside bar, my friend put on some music, poured a few drinks and joined us around the fire.
According to Dandara, the Kaya has hosted several events, from weddings and birthday celebrations to trance parties and film premieres. Photos inside the house reflect the lively scenes: the outside stoep turned into a dance floor, with a DJ booth, strobe lights and scores of people partying on the deck. The night owls tend to hang out around the fire and share stories till the early hours.
When I woke the next morning, I knew it was time to go. I decided to enjoy my toast, egg and coffee at the table on the deck.
Looking down at the river, I witnessed once again the magic of the tides. The foamy sheets of saltwater washed over our footprints in the sand, returning the playground to its previous undisturbed state, ready for the next group of adventurers.