The traffic started to thin as we left clogged Cape Town behind us, and eventually the flat vineyards around Robertson yielded to geology as we headed through the filagree town of Montagu, nestled between slabs of crumpled rock. Then it was out towards the Nuy Valley, past sleepy farms with whitewashed buildings and strips of apple orchards.
My heart sank as we turned left on to a dirt road. Clusters of cottages and rows of farm machinery promised too much human activity, and the website for Simonskloof Mountain Retreat had assured us that a stay in one of their two cottages would bring solitude and isolation - a perfect break for a pair of burnt-out misanthropes. But, sure enough, 8km down the road, the human world disappeared and we were surrounded by nothing but soft hills of fynbos and an endless cloud-scudded sky.
Far Away Cottage is perched on top of a hill, its orange paintwork blending in with the ochre earth. Rustic yet aesthetically pleasing, with none of the sponge-technique walls and guinea fowl motifs so favoured by many rural retreats, the cottage has no electricity and no cellphone reception.
One of the mantras at Simonskloof is to have as little impact on the environment as possible, and guests are requested to put recyclable and organic waste into designated buckets.
The other mantra is to Rest, Relax and Recharge. Reading through the visitors’ book, I scoffed at how many people had described how they had slept away their holiday.
We would be doing none of that, and had brought along our mountain bikes and hiking boots, prepared for a weekend of mega outdoor activity in the surrounding Langeberg mountains.
Another bonus was that we could bring along our mega mutt, Joey, who upon arrival plunged into the farm’s small dam, encouraging us to don our costumes and leap in after him, surrounded by reeds and the silent dip of red bishop birds.
Joey also became solid friends with resident border collie Kanda, and the pair of them embarked on a faintly disturbing Brokeback relationship as we sat next to the fire that night, quaffing red wine and drinking in the gully of stars emerging like rhinestones in a gap in the clouds.
The next day, fortified by toast and farm eggs donated by Simonskloof guardian Jurgen, we set off on the shorter of the two official biking trails, which would take us through the hills to the Keerom Dam. The going was easy, and with the two dogs trotting beside us, we pedalled our way down the track, pausing to rescue a tortoise from Joey’s adolescent teeth and stopping to gaze at the wonderful nothingness around us.
Built in 1954 to supply water to the Nuy Valley farmers, the dam was expansive, flowing between the hills like a Scottish loch. On the water below, a small boat weaved between buoys marking off a trout farm. After fixing a puncture and languishing on the river’s rocks, we made our way back, pushing our bikes up some of the hills as the dogs, their tongues lolling, gamboled a little too gaily through the bush.
That afternoon we napped. Woke up. Attacked some cheese and biscuits. Napped. Woke. Had a cold splash in the outside bath set amid the sage-like fynbos. Napped. Woke. Read the information sheet (rock art, 200-year-old oak tree, abseiling, guided two-day kloofing trips, hiking trails, wilderness retreats, organic farming exchange programmes). Napped.
Those other visitors were right - at Simonskloof, sleep seems to overcome you like a natural narcotic.
The next day, after what seemed like a million hours’ sleep, we packed up the bakkie and headed home, the bags under our eyes banished and our hearts back in tune with nature’s sensible cycle - the waking at dawn and retreating at dusk. In the back of the truck, Joey slept on his blanket, dreaming of handsome collies and a back garden of miles of beauty.
Contact the Simonskloof Mountain Retreat at 023 614 1895 or visit the website www.simsonskloof.com.
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