My great grandfather purchased around 8000 acres of land in the Hella Hella Valley around 150 years ago and although sections have been sold over the years, the main central 3500 acres still remains. My uncle took over the “farm” around 45 years ago and a few years ago my cousin starting running the show (after a stint as a ranger in Mala Mala).
The farm, one of the original homesteads of the Byrne Settlers, is steeped in history; hence it’s been selected as one of the Natural Heritage sites in South Africa, which ironically protects it from land claims.
Apart from the stunning scenery, indigenous bush, numerous dams and waterfalls, it is home to the endangered Blue Swallow, Oribi, Bushpig and the Hilton Daisy. There are some 200 bird species, as well as numerous antelope and other wildlife in the area.
I spent many school holidays and Christmases there as a kid growing up, so it certainly played a massive role in my love of the bush and it’s where I learnt to fish at the age of 3.
I have found a few of my old man’s slides that my boet, Supernova, scanned but I’m sure he has plenty more, so he may add if he finds this TT.
Farm House
View from the farm house with my grandfather in the garden
My old lady in a plantation with Supernova and my eldest boet. I wasn’t born yet. Notice the old ladies high heels in the bush.
One of our bush adventures, I’m the rat in the middle with my boets either side. Notice the “pot” haircuts that the old lady used to give us.
When my boets went off to the army, I continued to visit whenever I could and my cousin (who’s the same age as me) and I used to cruise the entire day through the bush for many km, fishing and eating what we found, caught, or unfortunately killed.
It’s a fantastic place for boys to grow up.
The teenage years changed things drastically and I was more interested in other things
, but still popped in a few times.I met the Cow during my first year of electronic engineering and decided to take her on a few farm trips, but staying in the main house.
I then decided to test the waters and told the Cow “Time to sleep in the bush on our next trip”, which I thought would have caused an issue, but she was game.
I’m still sure that the Cow got the fright of her life when I chopped down a “bonga, bonga” tree on our first trip, tied our gear to it and said “Let’s hike out into the bush and set up camp”.
We would normally hike out a few km from the farm house, which is about 20km from the nearest town, drink out of dams, shower under dam overflow “waterfalls” and eat bush pigeon or fish.
Just don’t ask about the ablutions, as I’m still sure that the Cow used to swallow a box of Imodium before each trip.
We would normally spend 2 to 4 days at a time out in the bush.
I have scanned some of my old 35mm pics, but unfortunately we didn’t own a camera until the latter trips. Please excuse the quality of the pics as they are around 20 years old and we had a R120 camera at the time.
Our camp and tent is vaguely visible in the bush on the opposite end of the dam, which was about 3km from the main farm house. By this stage a few of my “town clown” mates had decided to join us.
A closer pic of the camp.
Many times the mates decided to sleep under the stars as they were too lazy to put up a tent, but soon regretted their decision and I personally don’t think that they slept at all, as I got up a few times during the night to answer the call of nature after too many beers and found them with big eyes curled in a ball next to the fire with guns ready.
The Cow eventually got a few girlfriends to join us and I always had my trusty “Jock of the Bushveld”, Max with us. Max sadly died from a puff adder bite on the farm.
To be continued
