It ’ s 11am on a Tuesday morning , temperatures have just hit the 30 ’ s and are climbing steadily . We are sitting in an ice cold river , drinking hot chocolates and coffees , just because it ’ s good to completely confuse the body sometimes . We are halfway along a valley in the far northern Cederberg . The corrugated road that delivered us here snakes its way out on either side of us through the dust . To the west lies the mountainous heart of the Cederberg , and to the east lies the dry and arid Tankwa Karoo . Dry is an understatement . The entire average annual rainfall in the Tankwa is less than a Cape Town suburb receives on a winter morning .
Last night was spent camping out at the eastern end of this magnificent valley , on the banks of the Doring River that is the official dividing line between the Cederberg and the Tankwa . That is if anything out here can be called ‘ official ’. It ’ s the wild west on steroids : remote and barren . The occasional farmhouse dots the distant shimmering landscape . If you close your eyes long enough and listen to the dust on the wind echoing through the deserted ruins , you would expect to hear a saloon door creaking open and the steps of cowboy boots across a wooden floor .
This valley is not all dust and demons though . The winter rains bring relief to the dry riverbeds , and everything in here suddenly comes alive . An artist ’ s palette of flowers break out of a seemingly lifeless ground . It ’ s a natural wonder as biblical as you can expect . Bright fields of yellows and oranges as far as the eye can see , under a beautifully crisp blue African sky . We are catching it on the brink of the seasons . It ’ s getting warm , flower season has passed , but the colours are still wondrous , the rivers are flowing , the sounds of birds are all around us , and the subtle and repetitive swish-swish of bicycle tyres making their way along a dirt road remind us we are far away from home .
My sidekick for this adventure is an innocent and unsuspecting 10 year old , roped into a misadventure by his dad ’ s promises of easy riding by day and camping out under lots of stars by night . At least I delivered on the latter , by the millions . It ’ s probably also his first experience , without having pre-read the fine print , and realising it ’ s not going to be all roses and glory out there .
Despite the hardships , the trip was simple and well thought out to introduce the lad to a world he hasn ’ t experienced yet : life by bicycle . It ’ s a simple and beautiful way to travel and see places . Everything you need is on the bike . Your tent , sleeping bag , and hot chocolate . What more could you need ? In this case , dad tactfully missed the briefing on minimalism and chose to lug along 2kgs of steak and wine under the guise of necessary nutrition . Needless to say dinners weren ’ t complicated .
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