The cackling and the quiet
Bridget Hilton-Barber finds a place so breathtaking it can silence a bunch of women — for a second, anyway
I T may be hard to believe but sometimes the sheer beauty of a place is enough to silence a whole group of women all at once. We, the hlekabafazi (that’s the Xhosa word for cackling women and their name for the noisy red-billed wood hoopoe) hadn’t stopped chatting since we’d all met at Cape Town International that morning.
We’d cut a talkative swathe out along the N2, stopped for a clamorous lunch at the charming village of Napier and then garrulously hit the dirt track down to the ocean’s edge, near the southern tip of Africa. By the time we’d got to the gate of the De Hoop Marine Reserve, the hlekabafazi’s conversation had covered our families, our men, our friends, our bodies, our political views, our sex lives, science, religion, the media . . .
But when we got to the edge of the De Hoop dam, there was a collective wow and a reverent silence. Before us lay an achingly beautiful silver stretch of water with mountain reflections tinctured with birdsong.
“Normally we drive our guests to the Melkkamer House,” our guide Pinky said gently after a few moments. “But, due to recent flooding, we have to take you there in a little motorboat. Ok, three at a time. Who’s first?”
We chugged blissfully across the dam to the charming 200-year-old sandstone house called Melkkamer, which has thick walls, wooden floors and glorious views of the golden sunset over the vlei. It wasn’t long before the sparkling was opened and the hlekabafazi started up again … sex, religion, politics, cosmetics, wine, men, blowjobs, you name it. We even howled at the moon on the last night, and you could blame the tequila but there’s something very soulful about De Hoop indeed.
This 36 000ha marine reserve is a world heritage site and its flagship 19km vlei is a wetland of international ecological importance. The fynbos is fabulous, the birding is beyond amazing and the 70km of coastline is spectacular. You can stay in historic homesteads of quaint cottages, where the aesthetic is all clean lines and limewashed white. You can fall in love, as we all did, with the enormous ancient milkwood trees that guard the main hotel area.
On our first morning, we did a vlei-side meander, round the reedy and pungent guano-laced edge of the wetland. There are some 260 bird species here and we were drowned out by the sounds of cheeping and honking, whistling, squawking, whooping and tweeting. In times of flood, the reserve supports up to 30 000 birds and is a veritable international bird airport.
Coming from landlocked Limpopo, however, for me, the best part was the
hlekabafazi’s day on the beach. We strolled to the top of the dunes for impossibly beautiful views of the Indian Ocean; we frisked in the warm waters; we lay on the beach drinking wine. We watched black oystercatchers scuttle across the sand and seagulls catch the breezes. We went on a guided marine walk at low tide to explore rock pools and caves, and learnt about amazing things like the sex life of the octopus and the moodswings of the sea anemone.