Scream or How I Survived the Swartberg Pass

After having enjoyed a few days in Knysna we headed towards the quaint small town of Prince Albert - think Australian outback and The Flying Doctors and you get it spot on. Just about as far from a Swedish small town you can get, and quite the experience I'd say.

We stopped for lunch at Montague House in the town of Oudtshoorn, a town and area well-known for its many ostrich-farms. Myself I found it quite revolting and so sad to see all those fields of fenced in ostriches. Being breed and kept for the most brutal of reasons...

The lunch was rather nice, the beverage was one of the best I've ever had, freshly squeezed pineapple juice served in large jugs. Oh if we could get those drinks at home...

Little did I know what awaited us... We took the scenic route through the impressive Swartberg Pass, which is considered to be one of the finest mountain passes in the world. A 27 km long untarred road winds to the summit 1 583 metres above sea level in steep zig-zags and sudden switchbacks, with quite breath-taking views almost at every turn.

The road is supported in places by hand-packed stone walls, and was built by prisoners in the late 19th century. The Pass was declared a National Monument in 1988. Reminded me quite a bit of the winding pass to the Valley of the Nun's on Madeira. But somehow that drive felt a lot safer...

It took us about 1 ½ hours to drive through, it was steep, it was narrow, sometimes unbelievably narrow, no crash barriers, no walls to be seen anywhere. Only a bit of fynbos here and there, perhaps a small tree, blocking the view right down the deep gorge. So you didn't have to see just how far the imminent fall would be...

Every time we met a car on their way down it was sheer horror - lucky enough the Pass seemed to be rather deserted that particular day. The road wasn't very wet that day, still it was kind of slippery here and there - we did get a few skids. And it wasn't fun. At all.

They say that those who have crossed the pass will never forget it - and well, no I won't. And I will never ever make my way through it by car again. If I happen to be in the area. One of my very few *touch wood* near death experiences. And I don't care how breathtakingly beautiful it might have been - I think you can get just as glorious views in many places all over the world. Travelling on much better roads. Not screaming, moaning and clinging to the car handle.

Hiking would probably be quite the thing, maybe on bike to. But as far as the must-see-breathtakingly-beautiful-experience, no I don't think so. Far from the best thing, best view I experienced in South Africa - and no, I really wouldn't think otherwise even if the road had been tarred and walled.

Finally, after much moan and groan, hiss and scream, back on N1 and reaching into Prince Albert, we stayed at a lovely little - or not so little - guesthouse called Karoo Lodge.

Unfortunately at the time we were there, many restaurants and coffee shops were for some reason closed. What a pity since they had so many charming looking places to eat along the main street...

We ended up at pub Celestino's - where the locals hang out - for dinner. And boy was it like being thrown back to the sixties! Anything but modern - and so just what I treasure about travelling. The food was cheap and rather tasty - although I have no idea how anyone single person can eat all that food on one plate though...

It felt like a town in the middle of nowhere, and I was surprised about the fact that the shops offering handicrafts and local art had quite the hefty price tag on most everything. Perhaps Prince Albert is considered to be the place for wealthy South Africans from the bigger cities to visit when on holiday?

I wouldn't mind having these kind of waste bins in the streets at home...

Prince Albert also offers a different kind of lodgings for the weary, namely correctional facilities - you just got to love that saying on the sign there "A place for new beginnings..." I hope so. I wish.

And the obligatory township, in the outskirts of town...

And what's said to be the smallest vineyard in South Africa - Soetkaroo, which produces an award winning dessert wine. This small entrepreneur spirit, to do business, make business, create something out of seemingly almost nothing, to do good in the community is one thing you got to love about South Africa!

Quite the opposite in Sweden unfortunately, it's rather a hostile climate for small enterprises. The Swedish, so called, well fare system as well as the legislation becoming a citizen trap instead of something that ease for resourceful people that make something for themselves and thereby also do good in the community...

Not even the Bush Pub was open for business - I found the place intriguing... As well as harbouring one of the only two (!) cats (domestic) I saw in South Africa...

And I still ponder about what purpose the dentist chair had... Possibly one of those questions in life that will never get an answer...

When it was time to leave Prince Albert, we didn't continue on the N1 through town but headed back, though instead of taking the Swartberg Pass *surprise* we made our scenic way through the beautiful cleft and tarred road of Meiringspoort - which didn't make me scream of fear, more of joy when I spotted my very first free roaming baboon on the road. Don't get a lot of those at home, ever.

More about that in the next episode of undersigned in South Africa.

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