The weather is unstable and winds rip over the mountaintops. We have spotty rain and wide sunny vistas. The first pass is a dirt road with an occasional inexplicable strip of tarred road and 0% traffic. Again it’s a combination of untouched and wild nature, with unbelievable views of long, deep valleys. Once over the first pass we come a wide plateau of cultivated green, a shallow dish between walls of rough rock. Eventually we reach the hamlet of Op die Berg(on the mountain), and continuing south find wetlands with flamingoes and other water fowl. Yet another pass—the Gydo—and then into the even wider valley of Ceres.
Ceres is a mid-sized town, but sprawls from its center into built-up nooks that lie nestled between the endless fruit groves. We find a room at the Ceres Inn just as the rain begins in earnest. Luckily we’re able to eat at the inn, so we don’t have to deal with the icy winds racing through the valley. Nothing of note here, other than the amazing idea that Ceres juices, for instance, find their way across the world even to our local grocery store.
The following morning we exit Ceres via the short but beautiful Mitchell’s pass and then get a bit lost looking for the famed Bain’s Kloof pass. The original pass designed by the road engineer/geologist Andrew Bain in the mid 1800’s is still in use today, the only modification being that the road is now asphalted. It’s narrow, and unfortunately it is raining hard enough that we can’t appreciate much of the views, never mind taking any photographs. The narrow winding road skirts the raging Witte River which splashes wildly deep in the valley. With the recent rains and wet skies of the day, water is coursing in wide cascades from all the mountainsides into the river, which is a foamy white of rapids rushing over rocks of all sizes. In the few spots where it is calmer, the river is a deep tannin brown.
The pass opens up to the Groenberg valley, and we drive through the small town of Wellington and on into Paarl(Pearl)—so named for the trio of bald rocks that glisten when wet and look like dark pearls. We’ve arrived in one of the notable corners of the Cape winelands. Paarl is stretched out on what is reputed to be an 11km “main” street, although it does have a dominant commercial center. It has its share of attractive Cape Dutch buildings and wineries, but most of the space is bedecked in vineyards—untold numbers of vines of all ages, still bare in this early spring, trained across the valley.
We visit the small museum of the Afrikaans language and culture—Paarl being noted for its key defense and promotion of the language over the last centuries. We also drive up to see the large needle-like monument at the foot of the “pearl” boulders to celebrate Afrikaans, and wander the small roads outside town looking over wineries and the crags of snow-capped mountains that ring the larger valley.
On one morning we go on the obligatory wine-tasting/cellar tour at the gigantic KWV winery where we’re fortunate to have an exceptionally informed German gentleman take us on a tour with only four other tourists. He’s a lawyer, turned corporate man, has lived all over the world, finished his career in South Africa, and after three months of retirement decided to return to university to learn about wine and wine-making. He’s been involved in the industry since completing his studies, and is a stellar guide. After visiting the huge cellars and trying to take in at least some of the information, we join him in a private room to sample some of the company’s wines, brandy and dessert wine. Although it’s not really our kind of tourist fare, we’re fascinated despite ourselves.
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