IN THE SLOW LANE
Bobby Jordan discovers it’s best to take it easy on a trip to the Cederberg
T HE view from the top of the Nieuwoudt Pass was not good: steaming hot bonnet, angry dashboard warning lights, and a thin mist of Cederberg dust settling on an overloaded VW Polo sweating beneath Skerpionberg.
The view of my passengers was even worse: wide-eyed wife, eyebrows arched, lips parted in speechless disbelief, behind her an overheated toddler scrunched into an under-sized baby-chair.
I estimated I had about 90 seconds before all hell broke loose.
A man can do a lot of thinking in 90 seconds. Or he can stare hopelessly out the window at Skerpionberg and resolve nothing.
The problem was that neither of my options seemed appealing: A) Camp out at the top of the Nieuwoudt Pass in failing light and hope for a rescue; B) Walk into the wilderness with my family and hope to start a new life with half a dozen gem squashes and an economy pack of Cuddlers nappies.
Neither option brought us any closer to a peaceful weekend at Jamaka Organic Farm at the bottom of the Nieuwoudt Pass.
I was still contemplating Skerpionberg when my wife made an important discovery: we were stranded so high up that we actually had cellphone reception. We called Jamaka to report our life-or-death situation.
“Ag, just free-wheel down the pass,” said the unperturbed Jamaka owner, Jannie Nieuwoudt. “It’s only 10km.”
And thus began my 1400 Polo’s latest perilous descent into the belly of a South African wilderness area, hazard lights flashing, cityslicker family thrilled by unexpected adversity.
Half an hour later we stepped out in a parallel universe of holiday-farm chilldom, the lager-coloured Rondegat River chuckling through a reclining crotch of shade trees; grass lawns marshalled by sprinklers, mowed by roving sheep and goats; lazy firelight dancing in front of permanently retired caravans set back in the shade.
Our car worries over, we parked triumphant in front of caravan number three and resuscitated our holiday. It didn’t take long.
Even without gratuitous mechanical advice, Jamaka is a surprising family-friendly getaway. Lying about 25km off the northsouth N7 roadway between Cape Town and Namibia, it is just deep enough into the Cederberg to dissolve city angst, but not so deep that you can’t rush off to Jannie Geldenhuys’s CMB Motorcar Parts and Accessories in Clanwilliam if need be. There are 10 cottages, four caravans and numerous camping sites to choose from, everything from DStv comfort to tent-peg heaven, spread across an organic fruit and tea farm nestled among spectacular mountains.
For some, it’s a springboard to popular hiking trails; for others it’s an invitation to get horizontal on lilos or picnic blankets. Jamaka appeals to both energetic people and parents. The central attraction is a chest-deep pool formed by a weir across the river and sandwiched between a grass embankment and a steep rock face. Weekend visitors should not expect solitude at this popular swimming spot, although things are tjoepstil during the week.
Jamaka is also a good stopover point for people venturing further into the Cederberg, which is a bucket-list destination for many travellers due to its famous rock paintings and unlikely rock formations. The farm lies within striking distance of natural wonders such as “Stadsaal” — a huge rock shelter, big enough to park an aircraft and thought to have been a sacred Khoisan site, later a meeting place for Afrikaner nationalists — and the towering Wolfberg cracks.
Jamaka has the additional appeal of belonging to a Nieuwoudt, a family so engrained in the Cederberg landscape that it is no surprise to see a mountain pass named after them. There are so many Nieuwoudts in the Cederberg that the 120km dirt track linking Clanwilliam to Ceres is a kind of family driveway, with a few
bywoners mixed in. Sit with a Nieuwoudt on his or her stoep for any length of time and you will garner a lot more than car maintenance.
But that is a long story better told over a bottle or two of Cederberg home-brew.
Suffice to say the Cederberg is so full of mystery that I was only vaguely surprised that my Polo got a clean bill of health from Geldenhuys, the mechanic in Clanwilliam. “It must have been too hot,” said the mechanic. “You should take it easy when you go uphill.”
The Cederberg is very Zen.