In the scenery of spring,
nothing is better, nothing worse;
The flowering branches are
of themselves, some short, some long.
Once spring starts to rear its sleepy head from a long winter slumber an incredible phenomena occurs in a predominately dry and seemingly arid corner of Southern Africa. Once the last winter rains have fallen, the vast plains of Namaqualand come alive. Previously unassuming landscapes exchange their drab look for a surreal explosion of colour and celebration.
In my late teens I was a fairly frequent guest to the area, but the motivation had been to discover new waves that catered to the thrills we were seeking. The bare bones adventures of those days led to a strange whirlwind of euphoria and purpose, the landscape only playing a supporting roll to the ocean and its motion.
Being back there and choosing roads that don’t run towards the ocean, but across the vicious varieties of nowhere, rekindled that familiar feeling of euphoria. We missed the main event by a week or 2, but the encore managed to more than satisfy the senses. Regardless, the sense of gratitude that accompanies an aimless meander into the unrelenting spaciousness of our gorgeous country invigorates my potent love-affair with it.
Left it behind—
The moon at the window.
Warm inland air is swept to the cold Atlantic ocean
The countryside out here is connected with a complicated network of gravel roads that never seem in a hurry to say goodbye
Flowers instill an odd sense of elegance in all
Om oor Afrika te vlieg is ‘n topografie
van landmeterskap wat aan die mistieke grens –
die oog kan nooit lank genoeg rek