The Tankwa re visited – April 2023

My world is waking, a canvas of tranquillity unfolds. Clusters of pale Naples yellow grass move gracefully, their slender blades swaying in perfect harmony with the gentle breeze that caresses this soon to be hot place. The pre-dawn glow tints the east with a muted orange hue, casting an ethereal glow upon the landscape.

Silhouetted against the painted sky, the rocks stand as sentinels, their darkened forms, and my yesterday’s sculptures contrast against the emerging light. The distant hills emerge in delicate layers, and the secrets of the forthcoming day are revealed. Each moment of this sunrise brings a new revelation, a gradual unveiling of beauty and possibility.

With each step I take across the ridge, the shale floor scrunches underfoot, reminding me of the rugged terrain that surrounds me. The familiar crunch serves as a humble reminder that I am but a visitor in this grand symphony of nature. The moon and stars, brilliant just a few minutes ago, fade away, surrendering their stage to the sun.

As the first rays’ peek over a faraway mountain range, the world begins its metamorphosis. Soft shadows, like gentle fingers, reach out across the land, illuminating the sparce scrub and breathes life into the lone acacia that stands tall next to the fractured reservoir, a sentinel in this forgotten oasis.

In the distance, the majestic Cederberg range emerges, bathed in a palette of pink and mauve, its peaks seemingly painted by an artist’s brush. The colours blend seamlessly, creating a breathtaking vista that captures the essence of dawn’s beauty in the west. The tranquillity of this moment envelopes me, and I am overcome by the profound sense of harmony and peace in the stillness.

Sitting amongst the rocks surrounded by a symphony of colour and serenity reminds me of the sacredness of the natural world, and the importance of embracing it.

In this gentle dance of light and shadows, I find solace and inspiration. I wish I could share this feeling with others who are caught up in the chaos and noise of the world, tell them that there is peace and a silent sanctuary somewhere out there, if only they could find it.

My profound connection with nature is reinforced and I am once again filled with gratitude for my life.

Prince Albert

When you arrive as a new resident in this quaint Karoo town, you are often asked what brought you here?
The first time I drove down Prince Albert Road, to visit a friend – I felt like I was coming home. I turned off the busy N1 highway and slowed onto the dirt road, crossed the railway line and headed towards the very distant hills that are the Swartberg Mountains.


It was late afternoon, and the setting sun was due west. As I drove east toward the edge of the Groot Karoo the sun shone beneath the body of my car and long shadows elevated me, in the sparse veld. Windows open and warm dry air blew my hair with a sense of belonging. A broken windmill and reservoir just off to the left begged for a photo, I pulled over and climbed through the slack fence with camera in hand. Perfect light, warm air, and peace all around me I took the shot then just stood and breathed it in…..it represented everything good from my childhood. Warmth, freedom, safety, big sky, sand between my toes and an endless open honest landscape…. A sense of complete peace with gratitude for just that moment and everything that was good in my life….it was meaningful enough to draw me back many years later. And it is where I chose to begin again and have lived since 2019:)

Prince Albert

Prince Albert https://princealbert.org.za/history/

My new life and lockdown….

Being in isolation, sheltering at home, confined to lockdown, whatever you wish to call it has allowed me, as with many others, to reconsider and re-evaluate my ‘new’ life.

Until now, I have not been able to fully articulate my reasons for the move, my feelings about it, nor what I have experienced over the last 9 months.

But sitting quietly, very quietly, I can reflect about what I love and value of being here.

I ‘bravely’ gave up my most recent 18-year career and big city life to relocated to Prince Albert, a small rural town in the Great Karoo. South Africa. Here I hope to live a simple, considered, authentic life on my own terms, unencumbered by some personal past difficulties and the rigors of “normality”, a place where I can contribute and perhaps connect to a community and myself. Where I have time and space.

Time to be free, to think, create, learn and write. 
Space to adventure.

To walk in the veld, unhindered by time or crime that allows me to feel and be present. Touching and smelling plants, stepping over uneven hard terrain, exploring dry riverbeds, crunching dry mud flakes barefoot on empty dams, climbing steep rocky and yet unexplored gorges, while at all times being aware of the solitude, beauty and subtle opulence that surrounds me.

Cycling, uninhibited by traffic and tarred roads, travelling kilometres on hard-packed dirt roads, jeep racks and animal paths seeking out windmills and reservoirs, scattered through arid sheep country, sometimes hindered, and challenged by corrugations, headwinds, and horse flies! But, with warm wind on my face, fresh unpolluted air carrying a myriad of new fragrances, encouraging me to breathe deeply and slowly – nature’s own meditation.

Adventuring in my very competent 4×4 Jimny, carefully learning the limits of ‘her’ capability, and overcoming my ‘what if’s’. I feel like I can go ‘where no (wo)man has gone before’ I feel tough and fearless, and what’s on the other side is always exciting and constantly fulfills my curiosity!

Endless vistas of undeveloped dry land, dolerite sills, the magnificent Swartberg Mountains and rocky, ancient post-glacial outcrops scattered across the mostly flat landscape – littered with hundreds of species of xerophytic plants and animals that have adapted to this harsh, but beautiful landscape. Strewn with a collection of stones, fossils, rocks and meteorites, a petrologists dream! Hidden caves with rock paintings, ceramic fragments and flint tools of the amazing Bushmen who shared this place.

Finding water in this place has become such a joy for me. Whether it is from an isolated, noisy, rusty windmill pumping up a few drops at a time and slowly filling a reservoir generated from a gentle breeze, to paddling barefoot in the perennial rivers that run through the Swartberg range. Water is life. To quote from a late friend – ‘Water has no enemy’
On the hottest day in the remotest driest of places, where there is water there are a myriad of living creatures, from minuscule unidentifiable creepies, worms, ants, spiders and scorpions, tortoises, birds, snakes, sheep, buck, all manner of flying insects who all survive and thrive in these miniature biomes…. it’s fascinating!   

Sounds of utter and complete silence or the gentle rustle of a cooling summer breeze through thin acacia leaves. The deafening frightening tropical thunderstorms, with the frantic rushing sound of flooding rivers after a deluge, the distant call of an evening owl and of a daytime turtle dove – have all become my music – far from the madding crowd.

Visions of magnificent (and ordinary), transitory sunrises and sunsets. Night skies overflowing with stars falling onto distant horizons, all humble me and fill me with gratitude.

Kind, friendly people from every walk of life, hardworking resilient characters, and creatives, with whom I feel I can relate. People who acknowledge and greet on every occasion with a wave or a smile – there is no indifference here.

All of this is my new life. I am living :)