*Arniston AFD*

Hello and welcome to issue 12 of the langeberger your tell-it-as-it-is tabloid of life at the Lodge. Today we continue our tour of the Overberg region with a visit to the seaside.

Arniston - named after a vessel that sank off the nearby coast in 1815 - is a quiet fishing village and seaside resort about 90km from Swellendam. (For Joy and me it’s a favourite day-trip destination - before the Lodge opened for business we spent many a summer Sunday there.)

From Swellendam travel west on the N2 for about 15km and then take the R319 to Bredasdorp. This is a quiet country road threading through farm land with vistas of gently undulating hills. If you see more than 5 cars travelling in the opposite direction it would be in order to remark to your companion, “The road is busy today, hey?”

You’re in blue crane territory now and you may be lucky enough to see a pair of these elegant birds doing their spectacular mating dance. Once I had to brake violently to avoid a blue crane flying directly at the car – it missed the windscreen by a hair’s breadth (nearly ruining it’s chances of ever doing a mating dance again).

From Bredasdorp you take the R316 to Arniston which passes by the ‘SAAF Test Flight and Development Centre’. (Yeah, right… that’s what the sign says, although we’ve never seen any aerial activity there. Joy’s theory is that somebody simply forgot to take the board down.)

So what of Arniston itself? It’s lekker, man: unspoilt location, fine beaches, quaint fishermen’s cottages, hotel with a view to die for. If it’s a lovely sunny day, head for the beach and follow in the footsteps of our ancestors the Strandlopers (well…someone’s ancestors, I suppose). Maybe the poet TS Eliot had this in mind when he wrote:

“I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled…”

(Guys, if you wish to follow Mr Eliot’s example, do remember to remove those socks and sandals first.) However, what the poet might have added is:

“…the water at Arniston is awfully cold.”

What better way to round off your seaside experience than to enjoy lunch on the terrace of the Arniston Hotel? Fish and chips and a glass of chilled white wine is definitely the order of the day. This is where we first met "Arnold", a waiter at the hotel. We had noticed him on previous visits; his cheerful manner and friendly smile made him stand out. This time we got to speak with him and in the course of conversation Joy asked him what hours he worked. He looked at us, eyes twinkling, dazzling smile: “I’m on the AFD shift,” he said.
Of course, we fell for it. “AFD...what’s that?” I asked.
With perfect timing, and with our undivided attention he delivered the punch line:
“My boss says my hours are all f****ing day!”

All right, no more, I surrender, “Beam me up, Scottie… ”

If you have been, thanks for reading our ‘blog’ and may your gods be with you.

Adios amigos,
Chris

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Strandlopers: Middle Stone Age Khoisan cave dwellers who inhabited these shores.

"I think I scare it..."

Hello and welcome to issue 11 of the langeberger, the mouthpiece of the Lodge, bringing you today some metaphysical musings on motorcycling and mechanics.

Joy and I were sitting on the front veranda yesterday afternoon, just relaxing, daily tasks finished, when my attention was captured by the passing dull thunder of motorcycle exhausts: maybe a group of friends enjoying a weekend away on their 'bikes.

Western Cape is a paradise for motorcycle touring: excellent roads, low traffic density, numerous mountain passes, great places to stay, gourmet food and wines. What more could one ask? I was reminded of an incident after my last tour through the Cape Winelands on my trusty BMW K75S (see photos).

The bike had behaved impeccably throughout the tour and I arrived home after dark. I found the right key, opened the garage door and rode the bike in. Then I remembered that the garage was alarmed, and that the alarm was, by then, in the final stages of its countdown. I heaved the bike on to its stand and ran round to open the front door, just managing to enter my code in time before all hell would have broken loose and woken all and sundry. Mayhem averted, so I thought, but in my haste I had forgotten to switch off the bike's lights, and by the following morning the battery was flat. No problem, I have a battery charger. So I removed the battery from the bike and put it on charge. But when I tried to re-connect it, massive sparks at the terminal forced me to abandon the attempt. This happened several times.

I phoned the local motorcycle repair shop several times but the owner always had an excuse for not turning out. Eventually I decided to ring an auto-electrician and found an advertisement in Yellow pages.
I rang the number and a man with a pronounced Italian accent told me he “comma take a look.” The villainous-looking desperado who arrived would not have been out of place as an extra in a Quentin Tarantino movie. He proceeded to connect the battery and... nothing happened. Nothing, no spark whatever; it was as it should be.
"The problem seems to have solved itself," I said, feeling completely stupid.
He grinned conspiratorially and said, "I don't think so. I just take one look and I think I scare it!"
I reflected on this for a moment and smiled, saying, "Yes I think you're right. I think you scared the dinges out of it!"

If you have done, thanks for staying with us and reading our ‘blog’. All too soon it’s time to say:

Adios amigos,
Chris

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

dinges (ding-us) Afrikaans: thingummy-jig, whatsit (also means 'crap')

Travels with a mattress

Hello and welcome to issue 10 of the langeberger, the figurative finger on the pulse of the Lodge. Jislaaik, man, we’ve got news for you this time…But first we step back in time and let our fingers do some walking through the annals of South African history.

The Voortrekkers were pioneers who sought freedom from rules, regulations and taxes imposed by central government. They packed their belongings, extended families and provisions in ox wagons and headed east from the Cape to find new lands which they could call their own. They were resourceful people whose legendary adaptability is summed up by the phrase, ‘maak ‘n plan’ (make a plan). It’s said that the most treasured possessions of the men folk were: a good woman, a trusty rifle, strong oxen, the Bible (although not necessarily in that order).

Joy and I are pleased to report that the spirit of ‘maak ‘n plan’ is not only alive and well but much in evidence in our own dorpie (small town). Last night, after dark, we made our customary check on the estate before turning in for the night and we noticed an extra vehicle in our car park. Was it an ox wagon? No, I was pretty sure of that. Was it a car? Yes, we thought so, but with a large mysterious rectangular object attached to the roof. What could it mean? Taking my trusty Maglite with me, I strode off to investigate. A young woman got out of the car to meet me, leaving her male escort inside, at the wheel.

Hi, I said, what’s going down? – or words to that effect.

“Ja but it’s all right”, she said, “we’re staying with Mr and Mrs X (name omitted to protect the guilty) for the night”, pointing to one of our guest cottages.

How can this be, I thought, my brain working overtime, there’s only one king-size bed in the room. Are they….? And then I looked more closely at the large object tied to the car’s roof: it was a double mattress!

Unfortunately and in the nicest possible way of course, I had to rain on their parade. Afterwards at a top-level management meeting Joy and I formulated the following policy statement:

"We, the Management, wish to eliminate any possible confusion by stating unequivocally that guests are NOT required to bring their own mattresses. We are delighted to provide a mattress for every paying guest – at no extra charge."

We can’t say fairer than that.

Now, had our night visitors actually arrived by ox wagon, that might have been a different story - true to the legacy of the Voortrekkers, we would have been obliged to 'maak 'n plan'.

If you have been, thanks for reading our ‘blog’ and a “Happy New Year” to you.

Adios amigos,
Chris

Glug...glug...Gluck

Hello and welcome to issue 9 of the langeberger, your sociology primer on the unique sub-culture of the Lodge. Despite ostrich-like attempts to ignore Christmas, I have to acknowledge that it is almost upon us. Some of us are already experiencing that classic seasonal symptom of overindulgence, a dull ache in the region of the wallet caused by excessive bashing of the plastic.

What better way then, to lift our spirits, than to take a tour of the Robertson Wine Route and Breede River Valley? I believe Malcolm Gluck, the UK based wine writer, once observed that if he were a grape he would like to grow up in a vineyard near Robertson where soil and climate are ideal for making excellent wines. And was it not the French philosopher, Blaise Pascal, who wrote, "I drink, therefore I am."?

From Swellendam take the R.60 (Ashton road) and make for nearby Bonnievale (23km) and continue along the road to Robertson (27km). This must be one of the most scenic routes in the Cape, flanked with palm trees and colourful plantings of bougainvillea, cannas, jacarandas and agapanthus. Stop for a 'tasting' or lunch at some of the best wine estates in South Africa. Two of my favourites are:

Van Loveren: sit in their beautiful shaded garden and sample some fine wines.

Viljoensdrift: sample some more fine wines, choose your bottle, buy your picnic from their deli and enjoy both on an hour-long boat cruise on the Breede river.

Or if you wish to avoid driving and do several ‘tastings’ let us take you in the Lodgemobile on a custom wine-tasting tour, designed to suit your preferences.

Your chauffeur will remain sober as a judge throughout the tour. You can test this at any time by asking him to recite the following rhyme:

I’m not the pheasant plucker,
I’m the pheasant plucker’s son.
I’m only plucking pheasants
‘Til the pheasant plucker comes.

By the way, if you claim to have seen a pheasant on the tour you will definitely have had too much to drink!

Thanks for staying with us and reading our ‘blog’. As Dave Allen (remember him?) used to say, “May your gods be with you”.

Adios amigos,
Chris

There's life Jim, but not as we know it...

Hello and welcome to issue 8 of the langeberger, your anthropological anthology of everyday life at the Lodge. Today we delve beneath the surface to investigate a rumour circulating our town...

The word is going around Swellendam that there are some very hard-headed pigeons in the neighbourhood, “killer” pigeons that can break a window pane with nothing more than a butt of their tiny heads. I should know - I started the rumour.

To change the subject for a moment, some months ago I bought a catapult. My brother Richard and I each had one when we were boys and learned to shoot with them quite well. I soon discovered that I’m a terrible shot with a catapult these days. Do you know the safest place to be when I’m using a catapult? It’s right where the target stands, whatever I’m aiming at. I can almost guarantee that I’ll hit anything but my chosen target. So it was with the pigeon that had been annoying us with its coo-ing and clucking every morning for weeks, and you don’t know how much I need my beauty sleep – but let’s not go there!

Anyway, one day after the pigeon had started its early morning serenade, I decided to scare it. I tiptoed out of the house, catapult in hand, picked up a pebble from the drive, and looked for Mr Pigeon. He was there on top of the roof, looking straight at me. Very slowly I took aim, pulled back the elastic and let fly with the pebble. I continued looking at the pigeon, expecting to see the pebble land somewhere near it, hoping to scare it off the roof. Instead I heard the tinkle of breaking glass. The pebble had described a lazy arc about a mile below my point of aim and had gone through a pane of glass on our front door, leaving a small, jagged hole. I looked up to where the pigeon was, and do you know, I swear it winked at me before it flew off!

Well I couldn’t put with a broken pane of glass for very long, so I called a glazier to come and fix it. He arrived quickly and soon completed the repair. I just knew he would ask me what had happened to break the glass. But what should I say to him, I didn’t want to tell a lie? But on the other hand did I want the truth to out? It’s a small town, gossip can spread like wildfire.

Of course, he did ask me, and all I said was, “It was caused by a pigeon.” He said, “Jislaaik, man, I’ve never seen that before.” I just looked at him and shook my head knowingly. And so the rumour started…”killer” pigeons target the Lodge!

Anyway, before I have time to create more nonsense, I'd better say those words:

Adios amigos,

Chris

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jislaaik (yes-like) Afrikaans: exclamation of astonishment or surprise e.g. "Jislaaik, man I've just seen Lord Lucan!"

*Boks 'R' Us*

Hello once more and welcome to issue 7 of the langeberger, the cutting-edge commentary on life at the Lodge. Today we continue our tour of the Swellendam area and focus on our local Game Park.

All photographs copyright (c) of Langeberg Guest Lodge

Bontebok National Park is about 6km from Swellendam town centre and it's certainly worth a stop of at least half a day. Visit this reserve and see Cape Mountain Zebra and Bontebok (a species of antelope) - both protected. View the large variety of plants and wild flowers (the best time is in April). Follow a short scenic hiking trail along the banks of the Breede river. If you wish to linger longer in the Lange' you could hire a rod and fish for river bass (a perfect excuse - if you need one - for doing nothing!). Need I say more.

Perhaps so: just a reminder to stop at Information and buy a day pass. Recently a couple staying with us unwittingly drove straight past (I had forgotten to mention the need for a pass). Minutes later they were headed off at the pass by two Landrovers, but it was smiles all round when the mistake was explained.

If you are still with us, thanks for reading our blog, and as a certain Governor of California (is he still around?) used to say, 'I'll be back...'

But for now it's time to utter those familiar words:

Adios amigos,

Chris

Bob Marloth and the Wailers

Hello again and welcome to issue 6 of the langeberger, our ongoing report on life at the Lodge. Today's posting features an attraction for visitors, within easy striking distance of Swellendam.

All photographs copyright (c) of Langeberg Guest Lodge

Marloth Nature Reserve (approx 3km from the town centre) is open to the public for a small admission charge. Here you can walk on winding nature trails in the scenic foothills of the Langeberg Mountains, see waterfalls, indigenous forest and fynbos, hear the call of baboons in the distance. There are fabulous views, so remember to pack your camera. The selection of trails encompasses short walks of up to one hour's duration to a full-on six day hike with overnight accommodation available.

In the next issue we'll continue our guide to the Swellendam area. But for now the moving finger has written and it's time to say those words again:

Adios amigos,

Chris