It's early fall here in the Cape Winelands and that means harvest time. The endless straight rows of vines are heavy with bunches of ripe, purple fruit peeking out from their leaves. The hills are teaming with workers busy moving the grapes from vine to cellar where the annual production cycle is beginning. We are spending two nights in Franschhoek in the heart of South African wine country. "French Corner," as the translation goes, was settled by Huguenots fleeing religious persecution in France in the 17th century. French is no longer commonly spoken here, but it lives on in the street names, world class restaurants, cheese and, of course, the wine. We rented bikes today and meandered over the hot, dry, dirt roads that lead, inevitably, to one of the fourteen vineyards and cellars that surround the town. Although it's fall, the days are still very warm and sunny. The air smells of a rich mixture of pungent fruit, bright purple, red and yellow flowers and the first cooking fires of the season. The main street is lined with outdoor cafes and at lunchtime and dinner every table has a chilled bottle of wine and a basket of crunchy french bread waiting to be lazily sipped and pecked away. It should feel like the south of France here, but it doesn't. The sharp and rocky mountains that soar over the town remind us that we are still in Africa - about as far from Europe as the settlers of the day could get from their unwelcoming homeland.
Our first stop today was Haute Cabriere where they specialize in the South African variant of champaign. All their wines are made from either Pinot Noir or Chardonnay grapes which grow perfectly on the cool mountainside where the cellar and vines are located. This should have been a clue for us that it would not be a flat bike ride. In fact, the route took us up the winding, vertiginous Franschhoek Pass that we took into town from Cape Agulhas the day before. We huffed and puffed in gear 1-1 up the hill for an hour before we arrived sweating and red faced just as the cellar tour was starting. Not the classiest looking group amidst a sea of European bus tourists for sure, but after seven months of living from a suitcase, we're used to sticking out. My tattered NY Giants hat probably doesn't help. The tour guide was excellent and walked us through the wine making process from land selection and preparation to the pop of the champagne cork, which she affected for our first tasting with the cut of a traditional saber. The kids were given grape juice to sip, but we couldn't resist letting them sneak a sip here and there. "You can really tell the difference between the one aged in Hungarian oak can't you?" Mira said with a slight slur - more of a meditative comment than a question. OK kid, you're cut off. Later we coasted down the pass, a little wobbly, to the next cellar where we enjoyed antipasti, cheese and duck for lunch. If you're into exquisite scenery, gourmet food, warm weather and fine wines at a fraction of the price you might pay anywhere else, Franschhoek just might be for you.
After leaving the Garden Route a few days ago we turned slightly north onto Route 62 that leads away from the coast, over the mountains and into the desert through spectacular scenery. Even the kids popped up from their back seat dungeons and remarked, "wow, this is pretty." We spent a relaxing two days in Oudtshoorn where we all delighted in the company of familiar faces from home. It still boggles the imagination that our paths crossed with Ruby and Catherine at the same time and place on our travels through this massive continent. Oudtshoorn is a big town and must have at least 100 guesthouses. We had the cozy Karoo Soul practically to ourselves for most of our stay and enjoyed a few bottles of red with some homemade burgers cooked on the braii. Kinda felt like Canada Day. The highlight of the visit was a trip to an ostrich ranch where we got up close and personal with these big birds. Resulting in possibly the best photo of our entire trip, Deb volunteered for her first and last ostrich ride. After hearing her screams of terror, no one else was keen to give it a whirl, least of all the three girls from Yellowknife, NWT!
Sure enough, we were booked into the same guesthouse as Catherine and Ruby a few nights later in Cape Agulhas - the most southernly point of Africa. While not a pronounced headland like the more famous Cape of Good Hope slightly the northeast, Cape Agulhas offers a dramatic viewpoint of where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Indian exactly at the 20th Meridian. It really feels like the end of a continent here, much like Cape Spear in Newfoundland or Sagres in Portugal. We took the requisite pictures and then proceeded to dip our feet simultaneously in the oceans. I know it was just my imagination, but I swear the left foot felt a little warmer than the right! It was good to see the Atlantic again and served as a reminder that we are making our way ever so slowly home. I wonder what it must have felt like to be rounding this Cape on a sailing vessel four or five hundred years ago - still months or years from home depending on which way you were traveling or, like the Huguenots, arriving to a new life full of hardship, danger and promise. Before we headed north, the only direction you can drive from here, Mira and Shannon headed down to the beach to feed the wild stingrays. Thoughts of the Crocodile Hunter raced through my head from the safety of the wharf above as I saw the clear silhouette of a massive ray gliding towards my daughters who were knee deep in the ocean waving frozen herring back and forth. The authentic interactions with wildlife available in Africa keep coming, no matter where you are.
Since I've been writing on the front porch of our vineyard cottage this evening, the sun has set behind Mont Rochelle. The temperature has dropped ten degrees and the crickets are humming. I can see the outline of the Crux appearing in the southern sky. Time to take the Pinot out of the fridge and decide where we'll have dinner tonight. Tomorrow we drive to Cape Town, the final destination of our South African Visit. I have a thousand impressions of South Africa racing around in my head. I'm hoping they come together into something coherent before we fly to Europe in five days. All I know for certain is that this is a very special place, full of beauty and wonder. It was certainly worth the detour south on our trip around the world. Although that's probably not what was going through Deb's mind as that ostrich under her ran erratically from one direction to the next with her ass near dragging on the ground behind it! Good memories.