Ten reasons to visit Magoebaskloof now

The spring show is about to begin “In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, when the birds do sing, hey-ding-a-ding ding, cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-wee, ta-witta-woo!”  Come and see the astonishing spring spectacle on our mountain here in Limpopo province as the azaleas and cherry blossoms do their wild pink, purple, peach thang and everything is reflected in silver dams. It’s completely outrageous. OMG, sweetmotherofmary, hawu, yona yo, faints with delight. The annual Spring Fair is on from the 24^th of September to the 2^nd of October.  www.mountaingetaways.co.za

There’s fabulous soul food Mina’s Neighbourhood Food Market is happening on the 4^th of September and it’s the best food jol on the mountain featuring gourmet burgers, trout platters, sushi, curry, bliss bowls and more. All in a glorious farm setting with cool people and hot music. www.minas.co.za

The cemetery has views to die for Set amongst old gardens and ancient trees at the top of the hill with far reaching views, Haenertsburg has a fabulous cemetery and everyone visits it all the time: happy hikers, sentimental relatives, cooing lovers, groping teenagers, day trippers, weekenders, the whole lot. Pack a picnic or sundowners and head up the hill www.magoebasklooftourism.co.za

The beer is flowing There’s a new brew rising here on the mountain. Zwakala Brewery, Limpopo’s first organic craft brewery has opened its doors and its taps. The name Zwakala means ‘come closer’ and people from all over the world are pulling in, including a couple in a small car who drove all the way from Germany. Seriously. www.zwakalabrewery.co.za

There’s a brilliant bookshop Go for a long slow book browse followed by breakfast and a moerkoffie or a lazy lunch at the Pennefather bookshop in the main road. They’ve got a great selection of second hand books, Africana and collectibles. www.pennefather.co.za

The cheese is organic Blessed are the cheesemakers as Monty Python said. Wegraakbosch Farm produces a delicious range of totally, like totally, organic cheeses. And milk and veggies and chourico sausages. Take a tour of the farm and cheese factory and end it all with a lunch platter overlooking the blue mountains. wegraakbosch.wixsite.com/wegraakbosch/organic-dairy

The people are crazy Nice crazy. Friendly and eccentric and upbeat now that the spring is springing. Take a stroll down the main street – yes there’s only one – and meet assorted locals who are more than happy to ply you with food, hooch, craft, trinkets, plants and good conversation. And you can put unruly children in the village stocks! www.magoebasklooftourism.co.za

The scenery is incredible The Magoebaskloof area is Scenery Central. I’m talking wild mountains, thick indigenous forests, rolling endemic grasslands, happy waterfalls, chortling rivers, silver dams…

There are amazing places to stay Take your pick from farm cottages, village B&Bs, mountain hideaways and country hotels. www.limpopobookings.co.za

The pub is feckin fabulous Named after the highest peak in the area, the local pub the Iron Crown is the place for good food and cheer - try their delicious Haenertsburger. If you ring the bell inside you have to buy the whole pub a round – you have been warned!

My beautiful crazy cage

In some Freudian, Pink Floyd-ian way, I guess I did exchange a walk on part in a war for a lead role in a cage. Last year I fell in love, took eighteen aeroplanes, travelled nearly 80 000km, went to New York, Hawaii, Malawi, Ilha de Mocambique, Thailand, Maputo twice and Jozi about ten times. I moved house, packed up the family home, wrote another book (watch this space September!), suffered heartbreak and ego’s sorry defeat, moved house again and now here I am, completely exhausted and living in this beautiful crazy cage.

A sun flooded porch enclosed by metal and roses. Burglar bar baroque, art in the face of adversity. It’s at the front of my house on village edge, Haenertsburg heart of the Magoebaskloof in Limpopo, and it overlooks distant mountains and soft green hills and a little school with a very loud bell. I don’t have a fence just a tumble of lawn and shrubbery, nor do I have an actual house number so I am considering making a sign outside: 69 Mandela Corner. 

Being South Africa, fucked-up-cowboy- country, even in this mountain paradise we must live in cages these days, not realising the worst are in our minds, but at least my cage is pretty. My ex-neighbour doesn’t like it. He’s more of a Trellidor kinda guy, and he also has a home security system. At least he doesn’t have a white picket fence.

“These things are bloody horrible”, he said furling his lip at the metal roses. But I think they’re fabulous. Okay they do tend to snag tights, tear jeans and shred shins if you approach the cage too fast under the influence of tequila but hey, at least I’m allowed out. 
And there is astonishing eccentricity beyond my cage. 

I’m new to village life. In between gallivanting, I’ve been based on a remote farm for the past decade or so. Now I can walk to the bookshop and coffee shop, chat to the locals, pop in at the watering holes, you know, generally, stroll around the grounds like Mrs Robinson until I feel at home. 

Love this bookshop

Me being a thrower of pots and this being a village, everyone knew of my sorry heartbreak within about five seconds of it happening and since I moved to the crazy cage I have been showered with typical village loving. You look so sad, said a man in the trading store the other day, let me give you a big hug. You look cold said my new neighbour, here’s a hot water bottle. You look like you need a tequila said a new best friend, here’s a tequila. I may have overplayed the pity card a bit, but this little village has given me so many kind things, from hangovers and takeaways to heaters, hot gossip and colourful tales of their own lives. I am deeply grateful. 

Tired Rasta mop

And since I’m still so tired and yet starting to have fun again, I'm in no real rush to, you know, actually sort out my cage. It's currently a nest of blankets, unpacked boxes and badly stacked books. Only today did I stop using my ice bucket as a fridge and borrowed a real one. I’m not particularly known to be a domestic goddess – I only have one very tired mop that looks like an emaciated Rasta – but I don't care. It's my cage.