It remains a mystery as to who the “Bertie” in Bertie’s Balcony was, but I can only imagine him sitting in the shade of the overhang gazing into the far distance and marvelling at the panorama before him – rows of peaks and valleys as far as the eye can see, and the faded blue of the Winterberg visible through a gap to the right of Steenberg Peak – perhaps snow-capped when he sat there in winter.
We, too, marvel at the views, although if he was of a previous century, he would not have known of the easy route over the ridge (Ou Kaapse Weg) and might still have been taking the original wagon trail that is spoken of but not easily identified. He would have stopped to drink from the Silvermine River where it forms a pool before tumbling over the cliff in a small but nonetheless impressive torrent in winter, or gather a handful of water from the dwindling stream on a hot summer’s day to splash the dust and perspiration from his face, much like we did today.
He must have looked across the mountains, covered in a multitude of fynbos species, some of which even today are found only on these slopes. The same pincushions and proteas, mimetes and liparia, ericas and restios that are thriving here, watered by the clouds that swathe the peaks when the southeaster blows up a storm, would have been even more abundant and spectacular than today, with sugarbirds, sunbirds and familiar chats flitting from branch to branch, while a lone Jackal Buzzard eyed the scene with disdain from his rocky perch.
He would be happy to know that so many others who love these mountains take the trouble to toil up the path, rocky and steep in places, simply to sit where he sat and restore their souls in such beautiful and peaceful surroundings.
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