We drifted into Prince Albert at about 11.50am. The plan was to stock up on provisions and get set for a braai under the stars that night. But there was a serious planning flaw: as we drove down the main drag (Church Street), it became apparent that there was precious little in the way of shops as we know them… we popped into a few country stores and curiosity shops before backtracking and heading for what we hoped was a supermarket or the ubiquitous “superette”.
“Yay,” my partner in crime and I yelled when we saw the sign to an OK supermarket. Shortly followed by “Oh no”, as the efficient-looking shop assistant informed us that it was 12.02 and the shop closed at exactly noon on a Sunday.
“Is there anywhere else to buy groceries?” we inquired.
“Groceries, I’m afraid not ma’am,” was the courteous, but painful, reply.
Eish, sometimes even long-held plans can go awry. Try as we might there was no Karoo lamb to be found. We scrounged up some wood and tinned goods, but the braai had to be put on ice until the following evening. We toyed with the idea of shooting through Meiringspoort towards Oudtshoorn and then back that afternoon, but decided to investigate dining options in town.
The rest of the afternoon followed in the kind of lazy torpor that days in the hot Karoo are meant to: we drifted off to The Bush Pub for an afternoon beer or two, inquired about eating options, before making a booking at the Gallery Café (there was only one other venue open that night, the Swartberg Hotel) and then dragged ourselves off for an afternoon nap.
After an enjoyable but simple meal (we went veggie, having overindulged in Cape Town), the day’s highlight followed later that evening – a blanket on the grass at Die Kuierhuis staring up at the gallery of stars suspended in the sky above. Here, The Milky Way is not a collection of burning orbs but an explosion… a river of dust and stars muscling its way across the sky with the creaks and groans of a windmill as gentle accompaniment.
As you gaze hungrily skywards, loathe to turn in for fear of missing out for a moment, you quickly realise this is an experience you will never get in Durban, probably nowhere in KwaZulu-Natal. I’ll most definitely be back for more, shooting stars, satellites et al.
On day two the true charm of this sleepy, yet entrepreneurial, little town came to the fore. The locals had proudly informed us of some of the attractions on offer: a number of wineries and olive farms, a dairy and cheesery, a cookery school, numerous country stores and antique dealerships, and, of course, the scenic splendour of a trip through Meiringspoort and over the Swartberg Pass.
This short hop to Oudtshoorn and back was to be the appetiser which really got us in the mood for a fantastic afternoon and evening in sync with the mellow pace of Prince Albert.
That morning we set out on the Meiringspoort road, quickly reaching Bergwater Vineyards about 25km out of town. We nipped in for a quick tasting (slowly does it, it was only 9.30am) and a few select purchases, before heading for the famed Meiringspoort.
This drive is in stark contrast to the rough and ready Swartberg Pass, an engineering marvel where you point your car lazily at the gently meandering route through the Swartberg mountain range towering above.
The ease with which this route is navigated is testament to the phenomenal skills of those who designed and built it. A quick pitstop at the “great waterfall” along the route offers the chance to cool down (although in season it’s a bit of a bun fight).
After the splendour of Meiringspoort, we did not linger too long in Oudtshoorn and headed back towards Prince Albert via the Swartberg Pass. Intended as a climax of sorts for our trip to the Cape and back, this famous route certainly didn’t disappoint, although it struck fear into the heart of one person in our party.
The opening section was a bit of a wake-up call and cars passing one another near the top of the pass provided an interesting challenge, but there are no real demons on this dirt road climb.
The views off the edge of the road into the valley below are a bit hairy at times and there are plenty of deep ruts to keep drivers busy.
With signs declaring the pass open for travel, we ground our way solidly up for about 20 minutes or so before my partner was relieved to find the summit. The way down in the direction of Prince Albert was an easier ride and we drifted fairly casually towards the base.
The pass ends less than 10km from Prince Albert, so within minutes we were cruising into town before trundling off to the butchery to stock up on supplies for that night’s outdoor festivities.
Was it all we’d looked forward to? Oh yes, and worth more than a meal in any fancy restaurant. The lamb chops and now familiar (although not taken for granted) Prince Albert night show dazzled us and warmed our bellies.
We drove out of town early the next morning on the way home, happy in the knowledge that we’d truly tasted Prince Albert, but with plenty more to savour the next time we pass through. - Sunday Tribune