It's a long, long road

The small town of Springbok has long featured on a map of the Northern Cape, but I have no recollection of ever visiting there, although when we travelled to Namibia in 1969, we probably passed through it. As a 13-year-old, it's unlikely that my enquiring mind had kicked in yet to include rural towns. So our arrival there at the end of a long day's driving (more on that just now) allowed for only a cursory assessment: a narrow valley with one main road carrying all the traffic between the Cape and Namibia (a railway line would be preferable) and a couple of parallel side roads on the lower slopes where a variety of architectural styles housed the residents. Familiar shops revealed that all mod cons could be obtained if desired and indeed are probably the only source of retail therapy for the farming communities in the surrounding few hundred kilometres or so.

With no early memories, I was stunned by the topography - massive granite domes rose like bubbles across the landscape, which I always thought would be flat and arid semi-desert. This is the part of South Africa where minerals such as copper and zinc have been extensively mined, the lifeblood of the economy in the north. It was also the scene of clashes in the Second Boer War, with remains of stone walls still visible, should you care to clamber a kopje. We in fact stayed at the foot of the granite dome where they are found but resisted the call of history as we have seen many a relic of past conflicts in more accessible places. 

The main purpose of the trip, apart from a break from the daily grind, was to do a recce of the area for background knowledge on where to find birds, the condition of the roads and a general satisfying of curiosity for new places. Having left Kommetjie at 5am and not exceeding 100km/h but with no stops except for the thirsty fuel tank, we actually arrived in Springbok around 1pm. A quick stop at the local Engen to refill again allowed us to also refuel with the ubiquitous Wimpy road trip burger. Google Maps took us to our comfortable accommodation (not totally reliable, the GM) and then of course we were back on the road to cover as much ground as possible in the few days we would be there. The much-vaunted displays of carpets of orange and yellow had faded from their early glory and had little more than a week left as no more rain had fallen for weeks, so only small patches remained.

Our destination that afternoon was a dirt road leading off the N7 at Aggenys, some 150km away. Yes, the mind boggles. The target was the Red Lark. I once took a photo of one on a far distant bush somewhere near Sak Rivier; such a bad photo that only the stance and colouring identified it. The Frazzled Birder needed it for his life list, so distance was no object. I take a much more relaxed view of birding and try to combine every conceivable experience of nature into every trip. This involves flowers (much easier to photograph), fascinating geological features (of which South Africa has an abundance), clouds, the way light reveals folds in the mountains, the smell of the veld on a warm summer's evening, etc.

The road was long. The road was straight. Cars overtook us as though we were standing still. We left the granite domes behind and entered flatter territory with low hills and vast windfarms and solar arrays. The Northern Cape has fully embraced the power of nature. Soon a pair of Greater Kestrels with a nest were sighted on a telephone pole. Great excitement, stopped for innumerable photos. There were pairs on every third pole. There is no shortage of breeding pairs in that area. Another target for the FB was a Sociable Weaver, preferably with nest. Lo and behold! We stopped again for further photos. If we still used film that needed to be developed at CNA where we waited for two weeks to see if they were any good, I am sure no more than three or four photos would have been taken. The difference now with digital photography and multiple bursts is that two weeks is what it takes to sort, choose and delete the photos when you get home.

At last we approached Aggenys, where a colossal mine dump has grown over the last 10 or more years as zinc is mined from inside a mountain. The mountain is now a deep hole in the ground with the mine dump concealing Man's destruction. It has doubled in size since I was last there in 2019 and Google Earth will give you a bird's eye view.

We had reached our first dirt road since leaving home. Adventure time!

Heading north to explore more

A road trip invariably has led us along now familiar routes through the Tankwa, Little Karoo, Great Karoo or Garden Route. After months seemingly velcroed to my computer, the call of wide open spaces and new horizons could no longer be ignored. Reports of spectacular displays of flowers in the Northern Cape due to exceptional rains followed by unseasonably warm weather planted the seed. Head north to Springbok, perhaps take a left to Port Nolloth and a right to the mines of Aggenys - even (gasp) the bustling metropolis of Pofadder? A quick search on accommodation websites secured a home from home within minutes, and payment at the tap of a finger meant the trip was on! Time from first thought to confirmation of pending adventure - maybe an hour. I love spur-of-the-moment plans. And the weather would be perfect. 

With birding being high on the agenda, I knew this would be four days of early starts, long hours on lonely roads, lots of reversing, gazing across distant landscapes for a fluttering of wings and craning the neck to scan blue skies for the soaring speck of a raptor. For my part, I would be also scanning the ground for new plants to add to my iNaturalist citizen science observations and unusual rocks to feed my appetite as an amateur, very amateur, geologist. I have no regrets in life, but if I did, it would be that I didn't become a geologist. Stargazing would be out of the question due to the full moon, but that interest is fully covered by annual star parties at Leeuwenboschfontein and long days require early nights.

Although a road trip begins as soon as you leave your driveway, the process of actually leaving Cape Town means that you are technically an hour away from home before the city lights fade behind you and the lush farmlands of the Swartland unfold on either side of the road ahead. Rather like opening a zip. 

Rolling hills adorned with verdant pastures soon gave way to the mountainous Cederberg, where the road follows the meanderings of the Olifants River, its waters enabling the thriving citrus industry with orchards lining the banks and farmstalls urging us to stock up on the season's bounty. Our destination lay far ahead, and we pushed on without exploring side roads as we kept well below the speed limit and allowed the cowboys who suddenly appeared in our rearview mirrors in twos and threes to overtake and disappear into the distance. Apart from the odd 'train' appearing behind us, the road was surprisingly devoid of traffic and even trucks, for the main route to Namibia. A pleasant drive overall and in exceptionally good condition.

Arriving at the 'knersvlakte', a word which aptly described the crunching of wagon wheels in the pioneering days as they crossed this quartz plain, meant we were truly heading for the Northern Cape, and despite the early morning coolness, patches of purple and yellow and orange could be spied among the low scrub. My last visit to the region was about 14 years ago, and I had forgotten how spectacular and mountainous the geology would become as Namaqualand drew nearer. Vast granite boulders became granite kopjes, a landscape of veritable bubbles from millions of years ago, and the fields between were far from the desert I had imagined - excellent rains a while before has made this a sheep's paradise. 

Every kilometre brought new and awe-inspiring vistas and it became necessary to pull in at a lay-by to breathe in the pollution-free air and appreciate the scent of the vegetation, together with the absolute silence that comes with the absence of tyres on tar. It soon became apparent that the veld was alive with birdlife, calls coming from all over, and as we scanned with our binoculars, a 4x4 pulled up and the most personable young farmer who owned the land we were gazing at so intently asked: "Are you alright? Do you need any help?" On hearing we were just looking at birds, he unhesitatingly invited us onto his farm, to wander at will, and just to make sure the gate was closed when we left. He would unlock any gates for us. This is the spirit that drives the soul of the farming community. We took him up on his generosity and enjoyed a short time among his sheep at the windpomp, while he drove off into the distance to check on his livestock. Salt of the earth.

Then it was back on the road - Garies, Kamieskroon, Springbok. What would the next few days bring?