The “Garden Route” is a justly famous strip of land in the Southwest (ish) of the country that attracts visitors from all over the globe who wish to take in its beauty. The thing about it is, that although it’s lush, like a garden ought to be, it really is a route. In other words you typically pass through. Or more notably older folks on bus tours pass through it. I guess it’s kind of like South Africa’s answer to the Cotswolds or New England in the “Fall”. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with bus tours through picturesque parts of the world it’s just that 15-minute stops for cream teas every twenty minutes aren’t, well, my cup of tea. Now you all know me, I’m Mr Tolerant, so I really don’t mind folk travelling with www.oldwrinkliesontour.com I just would rather not travel with them. All this aside I suppose I should say that there are a few stretches of this road that would be well worth a cream tea stop. Most notably a few coastal stretches with cracking vistas over the ocean and enormous gorges that hack through the land to reach the sea.

While we stopped a few times en-route (how come there isn’t an English language body set up to prevent alien words creeping into usage?) to take in the scenery we were keen to make our  destination, the town of Knysna. To call it a “town” is probably a bit of aggrandisement; it’s more of a sleepy coastal village / resort that one expects to find on famous bus routes. You know the kind of place, it’s “sleepy” (shops are often closed) it’s “cutesy” (it sells the kind of tat you wouldn’t normally buy in a million years but your mind has been addled by one too many scone with clotted cream) and it’s vastly overpriced (no explanation necessary) All that said, it did have a rather pleasant café that sold us, with the requisite mark up, a particularly fine greasy fry up. As with hangovers  apparently, as of course, I’ve never experienced one, living as I do by the motto that the only cure to a hangover is drinking sensible the night before!) the best cure for long bus rides is lard. So suitably fortified with artery toughening gunk we set off to find our hostel. Alas we found our hostel, not as the map indicated about 2 blocks from where we feasted on the fat of the land, but about three kilometres up a slope so sheer that it makes the walls of your house seem positively horizontal (readers in Florida please don’t take that too personally) Still, from the top of the climb, and it sure felt like a climb (anyone who thinks Mount Kilimanjaro is Africa’s toughest climb should think again) we had a great view back out across the ocean and unless I’m very much mistaken I could actually see the South Pole. Granted I was wearing my glasses, so it wasn’t with the naked eye. Which, I’m sure you’ll agree is pretty spectacular and I suppose it must have been this that sort of sucked us into staying in  nysna for a good few days. As I’ve intimated there isn’t a great deal here, but somehow it really kept us enthralled. Maybe, God forbid, we’re approaching middle age as I really enjoyed the “homey” feel of nothingness about Knysna (and maybe just as worryingly I’ve started finding Saab cars desirable!) I’d give you the highlights of our stay in the little seaside town but honestly there just aren’t any. That said it was with a remarkable feeling of resignation that we checked out. Perhaps it was that we’re closer to bus tour age (though certainly not bus pass age) than I care to admit, or perhaps, and maybe more likely, it was fear of the decent to the bus stop that so filled us with dread.

Still on the plus side we were heading to the wine lands of Stellenbosch, Paarl and Franshoek and if fine wine doesn’t put one mighty spring in to the little steps of the lad MC and his wife nothing will! We like wine. A lot. And where better to imbibe a bottle or nine than right at the source of nature’s bounty, the vineyard that produced the tipple?

We took a tour of a slew of vineyards, sampling, as any would-be-buyer would, only the finest of the products before agreeing that it wasn’t quite what we were looking for. So, Mr Salesman, how about you open up the extra special reserve and we’ll see about that one!? Ahh what a great way to spend a day or two! It would have been even better but for the fact that the weather was actually quite foul and the vines had been plucked clean in the autumn harvest. It’s odd, typically the scenery in wine regions is absolutely beautiful, but on a dark, wet winter day, with the fruit gone, leaving the place looking barren it’s as desolate and as unwelcoming as any city centre at 4:00 on a Tuesday morning. Well perhaps not that bad, but certainly not as good as it is at other times of the year.

With much vino and the belly and a warm fuzzy feeling to keep out the cold we returned to the town of Stellenbosch where we were staying. This town really is very pleasant and well worth a week of anyone’s time. Not only does it offer the obvious advantage of being home to some great wines it’s also a really pleasant place; with fine examples of cape colony architecture and probably some other stuff that without the warm fuzzy feeling we may have seen. Still from here we were taking the very short journey on to Cape Town, and frankly I couldn’t wait!