Have you ever been to Rhodes?
Have you ever been to Rhodes? aka The longest possible road to the Sea.
(as first published on theBOMBsurf, see original here)
So if you were stuck in Joburg and dying for the ocean, you would just take the N3 straight to Durban, right?
Yes, that is the right and clever thing to do. Or... you could leave Joburg on the N1, break down outside Kroonstad, make it to Bloem after dark, stay with old family friends you haven't seen for 15 years, eat all their kumquats and then leave Bloem a little too late the next morning. Then you head South on the N6, go through Aliwal North, then start heading east. Yup, after all that lamenting in my previous post I voluntarily steered awayyy from the sea and towards the mountains. So, have you heard of Tiffindell? SA's only ski resort that this year doesn't have any snow, but an owner with a nasty reputation? This is the land of small towns. Huge mountains. And as we were to find out, even greater hearts! Rhodes on the map is a small white dot, just a dot, not a dot with a black ring around it, not a solid black dot, no a white. single. dot.
As the sun starting setting we realised that we weren't going to make it to the dot. The road on the map looks short, and as the crow flies it's very close. But no crow could fly over these mountains. Not even a super-athletic doped and driven crow. The signs ranged from Only 4x4's, to SA's Highest Pass, to Report Snow.
The bakkie labours up the mountain in the twilight, we pass a shepherds stone house and joke about maybe having to come and curl up in his karos with him. Ha ha, Tim and I try to keep each other's spirits up. Has our soccer surf roadtrip of luck run it's course? As per our formula we have not made any accommodation bookings, 'we can always sleep in the car' being the motto. But it's sub zero degrees outside, we've been driving on dirt tracks for over 4 hours and we can't see a single light. We listen to Iron and Wine to keep us calm and at last we see a sign, Rhodes. We have reached the dot.
Now only to find a bed. A sign reads Walkerbouts, restaurant and accommodation. It's almost 8pm and I'm nervous. My head is too tired to turn on the charm and ask for the usual free bed. The man in the reception smiles gladly and a little surprised to see us. 'You'll have to speak to the man with the big white beard' he says. Dave Walker has two plaits in his now-white beard, wrinkles around his eyes and a whisky in his hand. I start my little spiel but he hush hushes me like a pesky pet and asks if we've heard of corporal punishment. The two other men in the bar start laughing and the creases around Dave's eyes deepen. 'Erm, yes...' I answer, wondering where this can possibly go. 'Jägermeister. Not one. Not two. But three and yes of course you can stay, and Tony here will take you fly fishing tomorrow, there are only 25 people in the town, but we are exploring medicinal plants, and taste our winter sherry with chili, and yes the ponds freeze solid at night and of course we've been watching the football. Why have you got surfboards in your car, and remember, THIS is the centre of the universe...'
And so began 48 hours spent in the smallest town in the highest mountains amongst the greatest hearts.
If you haven't been to Rhodes. Go.
