Travelling Light (?)

By Jill Lieberman

We’d always travel through the Karoo when my children were young on our yearly pilgrimage to the Cape. We’d load up our mini-bus with all the essentials needed to see us through the long journey from Johannesburg to our seaside destination.

These ‘essentials’ included  a multiple assortment of  sandwiches,  tea and coffee in thermos flasks,  a cooler bag with a variety of yogurts and juices, various electronic gadgets to while away the long hours [such as ‘Pacman’] comics, toys for the younger kids and  to top up the comfort zone, sleeping bags. Those were the days when safety belts were not yet mandatory and children nestling in sleeping bags were often sprawled across the back seats or on the floor. The list of what was considered fundamental to our family comfort was endless.  In my effort to cater to the eclectic requirements of my children of different ages I left no stone unturned. Added to this, most journeys included their friends, without whom no holiday was complete.

This was only inside the car. On the back of the Combi or Toyota minibus was a bike rack. We would fix all the BMX  bikes belonging to the young passengers onto this  rack,  tying on the ones that would not fit on . Hitched to the tow bar on the back bumper was our boat. Our very large, powerful ski-boat had a huge outboard motor. Into this boat we would fit  any extra BMX bikes, all the luggage, the linen needed for the rental cottage, boogie boards and paddle skis, camping stretchers for extra guests,  household provisions, and a tv . All the vital and indispensible items needed for the annual odyssey to the coast were loaded into the vast space that the boat afforded us.

We’d arrive in Graaff Reinet in the centre of the Karoo towards evening, after our trek through the Karoo. Six children sitting for ten hours in a minibus is pent up energy waiting to explode. As we pulled into our motel situated atop a steep hill above the town, that energy burst forth. They would unleash their bikes,  jump onto them and pedal furiously down the hill and into town in a glorious eruption of youthful vigor and joyful freedom. They’d ride through the town, in a parade of BMXes  flying through the streets which were thankfully now quieter in the evening twilight. Some hours later they would return to the ‘ Motel Panorama’ wheeling their bikes back up the hill, weary and spent but exultant. I in the mean time has dispersed of the day’s debris in the mini-van and explored the possibility of a fast food dinner.

This ritual was repeated during our journeys through the Karoo for many years . As the children grew up and went on their own holidays, our journey Cape-ward became more leisurely. We often stopped in Nieu Bethesda overnight to bask in the unique atmosphere of a  Karoo dorp. On arrival the first time we stayed there, we had not made a reservation and we were told to head for a  small coffee shop, [which also sold knitted jerseys ] that served as the local b and b letting agent . We were simply given a key and the directions to a  b and b farmhouse in the village. No one else occupied this splendid old Karoo version of a Victorian homestead.  We let ourselves in and made ourselves at home and then  set forth fairly early to find a restaurant for dinner. When we found one, we were asked to select our dinner  from the menu  up front. Dinner was at 7 p.m and at ten minutes to 7 there was a knock at the farmhouse door and to our astonishment, in came the restaurant owners with the complete dinner on platters enclosed with  silver domed covers. They had brought the entire dinner to us in the boot of their car. It was piping hot and delicious, and we ate it in the dining room of the house.

Nowadays, with local airlines making flying a tempting option, we miss our yearly sojourn through the Karoo.