This chic corner of African is the cat’s whiskers
LOOKING at the first buds forming on the rows of vines that surround Mont Rochelle, it struck me that, of all Richard Branson’s projects, Virgin Limited Edition (VLE) is the most grounded.
VLE contains Necker Island, Branson’s home in the British Virgin Islands, The Lodge in Verbier, Kasbah Tamadot in Morocco, and two safari lodges in Africa. It’s the only Virgin company wholly owned by Branson, and his newest boutique hotel, Mont Rochelle, in the wine-growing region of Franschhoek in South Africa, opened last year with little of the usual Virgin fanfare.
Franschhoek, an hour’s drive from Cape Town, was African veldt until French Huguenots arrived as refugees in the 17th Century, fleeing religious persecution, but with the Gallic foresight to bring grapes with them. These days this town is a weekend retreat for South Africa’s moneyed set.
Most Franschhoek hotels seem to have been decorated with silks, swags and the belief that Marie Antoinette would feel at home if she ever got round to popping in for a glass of sauvignon blanc – but Mont Rochelle feels different.
When apartheid ended, Mont Rochelle became South Africa’s first black-owned vineyard when Miko Rwayitare took over. After his death, it was bought by Branson, who introduced some sensitive tweaking.
The spa has been extended and the 22 bedrooms have been given a luxurious but low-key rejig – great beds, wi-fi and skyhigh comfort levels. Above all, it seems to have discovered the alchemy of how to relax guests: a minibar with snacks, soft drinks and a few bottles of Mont Rochelle’s own wine that’s free to dive into, and basket chairs that allow you to sway gently as you drink in the view of the Middags Kransberg mountains.
Bathrooms feel as big as a Tardis (on the inside) and are stuffed with every type of waterbased plaything, whether rainfall or power-assisted showers. It’s good value, too – rooms start at £164 a night including breakfast.
There’s nothing stuffy or pseudo-colonial here. Miko, the main restaurant, is full of bright pinks and blues, plus log fires for chilly nights, and knowledgeable, friendly staff, many of whom have been here for years.
While breakfast has everything you’d want in the way of home-made granola and the temptation of eggs florentine, during my stay the evening menu gave the impression that it was still in progress – I would have preferred a spicier version of Cape Malay food, the distinctive South African fusion cuisine. Indeed, just after I left a new chef arrived.
The main bits of the reborn Mont Rochelle remain, though – a swimming pool, a chilled-out veranda with witty, beaded life-size sheep, chairs made out of astroturf, and Ms Blom the hotel cat, who can usually be found asleep in one of the chairs.
I went off to check out the grounds – herb garden and the vineyards producing a variety of wines including chardonnay, merlot and syrah.
It’s a working vineyard with irrigation pipes and a few potholed farm tracks – and it’s all the nicer for it.
A second, simpler restaurant in the heart of the vineyards, the Country Kitchen, caters to the wine-tasters who arrive by the car-load and has heartier food. The nicest tables are outside, overlooking the valley.
Start with a bottle of rosé here shaded by vast parasols, order the grilled calamari – a huge portion for about £8 – and you might never want to leave.
Creating a boutique hotel isn’t rocket science, but there’s a real skill involved at creating ones that fast-track you into contentment like this.
It doesn’t shout about itself, it doesn’t try to over-impress, but concentrates on small details. Having stayed in other VLE properties, it’s a knack that Branson seems to have. In a phrase rarely needed by the Virgin empire, perhaps they should make more of a fuss about their hotels…