The Klein Karoo is slow to surrender its secrets. This is a sparse landscape of windswept plains and rugged hills, dry valleys and wide-open skies. Arrive in the noon shimmer of a summer’s day, or the biting cold of a winter evening, and you’ll understand why this stretch of land between the Swartberg and the Langeberg appears so uninhabited.

But stop. Look a little closer. Notice the tiny flowers bursting from succulents that have hoarded winter’s rain to sustain them through summer’s heat. The iridescent green leaves of a huilboerboon tree. Observe the jackal buzzard riding the thermals above, or the spoor left by springbok on the dusty trail. By the time sunset paints the sky in burnt orange and amber, you’ll be hopelessly in love.

At Aardvark Bioreserve, between Ladismith and Riversdale, such details are central to the experience of escape. Both a working farm and a conservation reserve, Aardvark stretches out across 5000ha of the Succulent Karoo, a biome known for its botanical richness and conservation value.

Today, the reserve blends high-end cottages with the opportunity to explore hand-carved trails across a landscape striking in its lonely beauty. While farm-style hospitality and luxury accommodation complete the picture, the Aardvark experience is shaped around a vision of restoring and protecting this remarkable corner of the Cape.

But it didn’t seem all that remarkable when Nico and Koemie Marais first arrived here in 2018. After decades abroad, working in finance across the United States and Europe, the family had long dreamt of returning to South Africa.

“We arrived here in the heat of January, as the Cape was coming out of a severe drought, and this was a very sad place,” remembers Nico. “There wasn’t a single bird. There were very few trees. It was quite depressing. But we were told, ‘You have no idea what this place can become.’”

That encouragement came from Koemie’s brother-in-law, David Zeller, a conservation expert who has worked across Africa and Asia, and who recognised the potential of this land. “We made an offer and it was accepted,” says Nico. “That’s where the journey started.”

Eight years on, it is a land transformed. The reserve has been fenced – an 18-month process – and a wildlife management plan is in place. Enormous investment in boreholes and reverse osmosis facilities has brought water to a thirsty land, while an ambitious tree-planting programme is beginning to bear fruit in the tell-tale sound of birdsong returning to the valleys.

Across the rocky hills, herds of zebra, springbok and gemsbok roam free. Set out late at night, under star-spangled skies, and you may even spot the reserve’s shy namesake.

But the real magic of Aardvark is not in its furry or feathered residents; it’s in the flora.

“When you start walking here, it’s a different world,” says Nico. “You can look at the landscape and think it’s just brown and dead, but this supposedly dry area is hiding extraordinary magic.”

Preserving this delicate environment and the rich floral diversity – through habitat protection, erosion control and wildlife management – is central to the conservation work on Aardvark.

Right from the beginning, Nico and Koemie knew that they wanted to share the remarkable landscapes of Aardvark Bioreserve. At first they welcomed friends and family, but slowly the hospitality offering on the property grew. Today, Aardvark Bioreserve provides a range of luxury stays aimed at families and couples looking to restore, reconnect and relish the deep quiet of the Klein Karoo.

The result is a collection of cottages and farmhouses that avoid the visual cliché of many wilderness lodges in favour of a lighter, more contemporary approach filled with personal touches, splashes of colour and carefully selected artworks.

“From the start, we promised ourselves that we were going to be authentic,” says Koemie. “We were just going to be ourselves. If you like it, you like it. So all the accommodation on Aardvark is one of kind, and it’s very personal.”

Berghuisie, set on a hill overlooking Miertjieskraal Dam, is the most romantic option, with a spacious master bedroom where the views wash in through floor-to-ceiling windows. Step outside and from the private wood-fired hot tub, splash pool and sun deck you can see forever.

Springbok Cottage is also aimed at couples and comes tucked into a quiet valley between the reserve and the working farm. Die Opstal is the largest space on offer for overnight guests, sleeping eight in a restored farmhouse where large groups can come together to spend days reconnecting in the wilderness. The sophisticated Manor House – the Marais’ private home – is expected to be added to the accommodation options in 2026, offering a thoroughly luxurious stay.

For families seeking laid-back spaces, Gemsbok Cottage and Zebra Cottage are the best bets, with contemporary country-style decor and spacious terraces ideal for long evenings by the fireside.

Or you could stoke the wood-fired hot tub for a session of stargazing. Both Zebra and Gemsbok are close to hiking and mountain-biking trails, so you can set off on foot or bike straight from your stoep to the trail.

And getting your feet dirty on the trail is one of the joys of a stay at Aardvark Bioreserve.

More than 100km of trails thread their way across the reserve, offering the chance to ride, run or hike through epic Karoo landscapes while keeping a keen eye out for the antelope – springbok, eland, gemsbok, and more – that thrive here.

The trails, laid out by Nico and acclaimed Stellenbosch-based trail builder Corrie Muller, range from accessible farm roads to challenging singletrack that brings a technical edge for experienced riders. Routes across the reserve are well mapped and marked, with GPS files available, and Specialized mountain bikes – electric and traditional – can be rented on the farm.

If you prefer a slower pace of exploration, specialist botanical walks can be arranged, particularly when the veld begins to flower after good winter rains. Safari-style nature drives in an open-sided Land Rover are also available for exploring more distant corners of the reserve.

If there’s a golden thread that binds Aardvark’s many attractions together, it’s a sense of authenticity. From the outdoor adventures to the considered luxury of the cottages, there is a lack of pretence and a thoughtful simplicity woven into every stay. That shows in the way food has become another thread in the Aardvark tapestry.

If you don’t want to lift a finger, wholesome premade meals – think chicken pie or fragrant bobotie – can be ordered in advance. Or guests can ask for the fridge to be stocked with organic produce, fresh vegetables and game meats from the farm, offering a true taste of the Karoo and the freedom to shape their own culinary experience, whether in the kitchen or around the braai.

The danger, as for any successful private hospitality project, is that growth could change the character of the place. Koemie is aware of that tension. There is demand for more services, more chefs, more structure. But Aardvark’s appeal lies largely in the fact that it has not become a standard lodge. For now, its direction is clear: small-scale, design-led, conservation-focused and personal. It is a place where hospitality is built around the land rather than imposed on it; where luxury comes through space, privacy, detail and the ability to slow down.

Aardvark began with a drought-stricken farm and no grand masterplan. In the years since, it has become a private reserve, a restoration project and a distinctive Karoo stay. Its success lies not in trying to compete with traditional safari lodges, but in offering something more specific: a carefully considered way to experience the Klein Karoo, shaped by personal passion and a growing commitment to conservation. 

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From a mudstone koppie just north of Graaff-Reinet, the Karoo opens out in vast flatlands beneath the Sneeuberg. Here, on the farm Wellwood, anker-karoobossies cling to the soil, their dust-grey leaves blending with the earth. Underfoot, slabs of weathered stone lie scattered across the veld.

At first glance the landscape feels sparse, almost empty.

Yet 250 million years ago the plains teemed with life. Rivers meandered through forests of Glossopteris and spread across wide floodplains. Herds of tusked dicynodonts crowded muddy waterholes, heads down, beaks working steadily through ferns.

Something moved in the reeds. A gorgonopsian, sabre-toothed and deadly, slipped through the shallows. Claws churned the mud. A rush – and it was over.

Then the floodwaters came, laying down sheets of silt across the plain. Mud closed over bone. Time passed. And the Karoo fell quiet again.

Prof. Bruce Rubidge grew up on this farm. The Rubidge family has been farming at Wellwood since 1838, building one of the country’s oldest merino studs.

“I was one of those lucky okes who was born into palaeontology,” he smiles. “Fossils were always in my blood.”

The story began here on Wellwood long before he was born.

In April 1934 his grandfather, Sidney Rubidge, was at home on the farm when his 10-year-old daughter Peggy returned from boarding school in Graaff-Reinet with a question: “Daddy, what are fossils and where do you find them?” Sidney admitted he didn’t really know.

Bruce continues: “Grandpa said, ‘It’s something to do with bone embedded in rock. Let’s go for a picnic and see if we can find one.’” Out on a mudstone koppie Peggy noticed something unusual in the rock. “Grandpa started knocking away with a hammer and chisel and eventually a thing that looked like the skull of a horse started appearing.”

Unsure what he had uncovered, Sidney wrote to Dr Robert Broom at the Transvaal Museum. When the renowned palaeontologist rushed to the farm to examine the fossil, the scale of the discovery became clear.

“Broom told him it was 250 million years old. That blew my grandfather’s mind.”

The fossil turned out to be the complete skull of a gorgonopsian, a large, flesh-eating, mammal-like reptile that roamed the Karoo in the Permian period.

It lived long before the first dinosaurs appeared, at the time when Graaff-Reinet was at the centre of the vast supercontinent Pangaea. And, most significantly, it belonged to the therapsid family, which were distant ancestors of mammals.

Broom named the new species Dinogorgon rubidgei, honouring the man who had first chipped it from the rock.

Having a species named after him did not impress the farmer. What did impress him was its age.
“Broom asked him to present it to the Transvaal Museum, but Grandpa said, “No, if it’s been on this farm for over 200 million years, I’m sure it doesn’t want to leave now.”

The discovery marked the beginning of what would become the Rubidge Collection, one of the most significant fossil collections in the world. It would ignite a wave of scientific interest and help place South Africa at the forefront of Permian fossil research.

Encouraged by Broom, who had a keen interest in the origin of mammals, Sidney Rubidge began searching the surrounding Karoo for more fossils. What had started as curiosity turned into a serious pursuit.

Over the next decade he collected specimens from farms and koppies across a wide swathe of the central Karoo, often working with local fossil hunters who knew the landscape intimately. Among them was a Nieu-Bethesda road engineer, Croonie Kitching, and his son James, who later became one of the Karoo’s most accomplished palaeontologists.

“As my grandfather was a pioneer in the field of Karoo palaeontology, many of the fossils he was finding turned out to be new species,” Bruce says.

By the mid-20th century, the purpose-built glass cupboards on Wellwood held hundreds of fossils. Each one was meticulously recorded and labelled by Bruce’s parents, Richard and Pam Rubidge, and neatly laid out on red felt.

“I grew up on the farm with my grandfather’s fossils thinking that every family had a collection like ours,” Bruce chuckles.

As a little boy of three, he once picked up a piece of concrete and proudly cycled with it to his grandfather’s house, convinced he had discovered a fossil.

“Grandpa said, ‘That’s a very nice fossil, thank you,’” Bruce recalls. A few days later Sidney handed the ‘fossil’ back to him. He had quietly carved eyes, nostrils and teeth into the lump of concrete. That sparked Bruce’s curiosity, and two years later the five-year-old found his first real fossil on the farm: a gorgonopsian, just like his grandpa’s.

In time, that childhood fascination would lead Bruce into palaeontology. He spent three decades at the University of the Witwatersrand, where he headed the Evolutionary Studies Institute. He became a Distinguished Professor and an internationally recognised authority on the ancient animals preserved in the rocks of the Karoo Basin.

In 2020, Bruce and his wife Marina returned to Graaff-Reinet to realise a life-long dream: to bring the Rubidge fossils out of the cupboards on Wellwood and into a space where their story could be shared and interpreted.

Through generous sponsorship, a historic building was bought in the heart of Graaff-Reinet, renovated and custom-fitted to house the collection. Last year, after 91 years of curation by four successive generations of Rubidge farmers, the entire fossil collection was moved to town.

Today the collection forms the heart of Karoo Origins – The Fossil Centre, a dynamic space that is part museum and education centre and part research hub. Academically linked to Wits, the centre also serves as a field station for local and international palaeontologists working in the Karoo.
“I could have given the collection to a museum or a university,” Bruce says. “But there it would have been swallowed up by much larger collections. Here, people can experience the fossils where they were actually found and that has greater significance.”

The story begins the moment you walk through the door.

On a pedestal near the entrance is the skull that started it all: Sidney Rubidge’s gorgonopsian, the fossil Peggy spotted on a picnic in 1934. Around it the story unfolds in fragments. There are photographs of Wellwood, copies of Sidney’s letters, and correspondence from the great palaeontologist Robert Broom, whose excitement about the discovery placed the Karoo on the scientific map.

From the family story, the view expands.

Glass cases line the walls, each carefully lit, as if in a portrait gallery. Inside them are rows of therapsid skulls, more than 850 in total – the strange faces of animals that once dominated the Karoo.

Seen together, evolution unfolds. Some skulls are heavy and reptilian; others show the subtle progression in bone, teeth and jaw that would eventually lead toward mammals.

Among them are 107 holotypes, the original fossils used by scientists to define new species.

“Museums usually lock holotypes away,” Bruce says. “But I wanted people to see the whole Rubidge collection, to understand just how many animals once lived here.

“In the rocks of the Karoo there are 247 different species of animals,” he explains. “My grandfather was responsible for finding 107 of these.”

Around the corner, the skulls are brought vividly back to life.

A six-minute looping animation settles on a Permian waterhole. Life-sized therapsids, anatomically exact, enter, hesitate, drink. A gorgonopsian moves into view, its scale precise, its movements convincing. Visitors watch in silence as the animals come and go.
In the next room, the world begins to unravel.

A section titled ‘The Great Dying’ traces the greatest mass extinction in the history of the earth, 252 million years ago. Massive volcanic eruptions in what is now Siberia drove greenhouse gases into the atmosphere. Temperatures rose, oceans warmed and ecosystems collapsed. The catastrophe wiped out 90% of species. A small lineage of therapsids survived and would eventually give rise to mammals.

“The Karoo fossils show how life changed before and after this event,” says Bruce. “Lootsberg Pass, just north of Graaff-Reinet, preserves one of the most complete records in the world of this extinction. Scientists from all over the world come here to study it. We’re still learning more about the extinction and the characteristics of those that survived.”

The exhibition then turns to the present. Modern humans appear as a late arrival in the sequence of life. The focus shifts to the consequences of our actions – a new wave of extinction, now unfolding across the planet and driven by human activity.

“What happened at the end of the Permian was driven by massive environmental change,” Bruce says. “The difference now is that there are no volcanic eruptions. It is us. We are changing the system.”

The story told here is not only about fossils. It is about our place in the long history of life on earth.
Outside, the Karoo lies quiet. Beneath the surface, the record continues to be laid down, slowly, over time. V

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THE BONTEBOK were the first to arrive, a one-of-a-kind welcome party for the first guests staying at De Hoop Villa. Their painterly colours – dark chestnut flanks with an aubergine swish – complemented the swirl of sunset colours in the sky. Everywhere you look at De Hoop Collection, the main base for visitors to De Hoop Nature Reserve, there is beauty to see.

Earlier, our guides and hosts, Francois and Ruda van Heerden, had officially welcomed us to the new villa with glasses of bubbly. Sleeping small parties of six in three elegantly decorated en-suite rooms, De Hoop Villa is an exclusive retreat for travellers who want to get closer to nature.

On the walls, exquisite botanical prints from the Grootbos Florilegium collection pay tribute to the region’s fynbos. In the lounge, plump sofas invite you to sink into them, setting the tone for a relaxing stay. Large glass doors bring the outside in, so you can keep an eye out for wildlife from wherever you find to be most comfortable. In the bedroom, I watched as a small grey mongoose trotted past into the fynbos.

De Hoop Villa is so thoughtfully designed, you might be tempted to stay put. When the weather is fine, you can dine out on the terrace or swap stories and s’mores around the firepit.

At the front of the villa, sun loungers frame a private pool – I’ve never before had the chance to swim with wildlife grazing nearby. There’s even a wood-fired hot tub to soak away the last of your city stress.

But one of the villa’s standout features will convince you to head out sooner rather than later. It’s the striking design on the wallpaper in the bathrooms and the armchairs in the lounge. The illustration is a dazzling display of some of the species found at De Hoop. An orange-breasted sunbird perches near a red pincushion. The patterns of a monarch butterfly rival the designs on a spider flower. The lime and pale pink of a leopard toad echo the colours of a water lily.

It’s the work of textile designer Karen Ellis Brown, who found that time in the reserve lit her creative spark. “Karen is a friend who needed to recharge her batteries, so I invited her to stay at De Hoop,” recounts William Stephens, the founder and CEO of De Hoop Collection, a member of Cape Country Routes. Soon the beauty and serenity of De Hoop prompted Karen to start sketching, in particular the often overlooked, but no less important, smaller creatures. “Being surrounded by nature is a truly transformative experience,” she says.

And what surroundings they are! De Hoop Nature Reserve lies in the Cape Floral Kingdom, protecting fynbos and rare renosterveld. De Hoop Vlei, a Ramsar-designated wetland, is a haven for waterbirds, attracting flamingos, great white pelicans and pied kingfishers. Up on the cliffs of Potberg, in the north-east of the reserve, the Western Cape’s last colony of Cape vultures is growing in numbers. Along the coastline, African oystercatchers find the perfect buffet in the shelf-like rock pools, while the waters annually play host to whales that journey to De Hoop from Antarctica to calve in the temperate waters.

During a stay at De Hoop Villa, you get the chance to not only experience the different faces of the reserve, but to understand what makes its inhabitants tick.

The first day, the promise of freshly brewed coffee got us up for an early morning marine walk. Truthfully, there was simply no way to resist Ruda’s excitement about exploring the rock pools shortly after dawn – the tide would be low and the forecast was for no wind. She was right; it was extraordinary to hunt along the rocky shore, the mirrored surfaces of the pools reflecting fluffy clouds above.

Ruda showed us reticulated sea stars that can regrow their limbs, a tiny shell hosting an even tinier hermit crab, velvety anemones and prickly sea urchins. The most fascinating find was a bubble-raft snail, a creature that floats on the open ocean thanks to the constellation of bubbles attached to its violet shell.

Our next outing, a nature walk with Francois, led from the villa to De Hoop Vlei and along its shore. “We’re going on a ‘sniffari’,” he joked and pointed out wild rosemary, which releases a menthol scent when the leaves are crushed. The shrub is also known as kapokbos for the white down attached to its seedheads. It’s a favourite of some bird species, like the Karoo prinia, which collect the cotton-wool-like balls to line their nests. While the birds get a soft, scented building material that dispels mites, the plant benefits by having its seeds distributed.

Back at De Hoop Villa, a decadent chocolate cake had magically appeared in time for tea – the villa comes with its own chef and caretaking team. It is one of three villas forming part of De Hoop Collection where guests enjoy guided activities and have all meals included as part of the stay. Later, chef Morné Phaff served up tender lamb potjie, a spectacular vegetable quiche and individual apple pies, among other treats.

The pace of the days was relaxed, with enough time to unwind by the pool or curl up with a book. Over a two-night stay, guests will typically head out on a sundowner game drive, an interpretive marine walk, a mountain bike tour, and a birding walk.

It’s possible to add other activities, such as an eco boat cruise on De Hoop Vlei, a trip to the vulture viewing deck or a visit to the Origins exhibit.

Formally called the Origins of Early Southern Sapiens Behaviour Exhibition, the display highlights archaeological discoveries made along the Cape south coast. From Klipdrift Shelter in De Hoop Nature Reserve, for example, there are fragments of painstakingly decorated ostrich shells that date back around 65 000 years. In fact, it was along this coastline that humankind made the giant strides in tool use and art that form the foundation of modern humans’ technological and conceptual abilities. Researchers theorise that this landscape’s abundant food supply made humankind’s intellectual development possible.

When I think of my time at De Hoop Villa, it seems that not much has changed in this corner of the country. It’s still a setting that nurtures those within its embrace, a place where the air and the water restore weary spirits. A place that inspires.

Travel Advisor

De Hoop Nature Reserve is a three-hour drive from Stellenbosch. In addition to the new De Hoop Villa, De Hoop Collection’s stable of accommodation includes the Opstal Houses and Suites, De Mond Villa, and Melkkamer Manor House. Rates for De Hoop Villa start at R6,500 per person per night, with a minimum booking of four guests. Meals and guided activities are included.

Introductory offer: Stay five nights and pay for only four until 31 August 2026. To book, call +27 21 422 4522 or email res@dehoopcollection.co.za.For more information, visit dehoopcollection.com.

The post Nourished by Nature appeared first on Stellenbosch Visio.

Among them is Nora Thiel, Executive Director of Delheim Wine Estate in Stellenbosch and chair of the Greater Simonsberg Conservancy (GSC). For Nora and Delheim, conservation is not an afterthought — it is woven into the very fabric of how the farm operates. “Being part of the Greater Simonsberg Conservancy allows us to contribute to conservation beyond our farm boundaries,” she says. “We are proud to support efforts that protect this unique natural heritage, showing the care of and for and appreciation of the environment as past generations have. We are but custodians for the region’s future farmers.”

A Mountain Full of Secrets

Leopards occur all along the mountainous regions of the Cape Fold Belt in the Western, Eastern and Northern Cape. These leopards of the Cape are physically smaller and weigh less than their savannah cousins, and are highly adapted to the rocky terrain and dense fynbos of ranges like the Boland Mountain Complex, of which Simonsberg forms part. They are also under pressure — from habitat loss, human-wildlife conflict, and illegal snaring — and their exact numbers remain uncertain.

That uncertainty is precisely what the Cape Leopard Trust (CLT) set out to address. Between 2010 and 2012, the CLT conducted the first intensive large-scale survey of leopards in the Boland Mountain Complex, establishing a critical population baseline across some 2 500 square kilometres of mountain landscape, including protected areas and private properties. More than a decade later, the CLT returned to conduct a comprehensive re-survey, and the results were both reassuring and sobering: leopards are still there, their territories overlapping with farm boundaries, hiking trails, and wine estates. But their survival depends on what happens next.

Where Wine Country Meets Wild Country

The Greater Simonsberg Conservancy (CSC), which includes Delheim among its member properties, formed an important part of the CLT’s re-survey. Camera traps were deployed on several estates, including Boschendal, Plaisir, and Delheim, capturing photographic evidence of leopard presence along the Simonsberg slopes. This data confirms what conservationists had long hoped: the mountains above the vineyards continue to serve as vital ecological corridors, linking protected areas and allowing leopards to move through the landscape.

Over the past fifteen years, the CLT has monitored multiple leopards whose territories overlap with the Conservancy’s landholdings. The ongoing presence and movement of adult leopards through these private properties underscores a truth that Nora articulates with clarity: “The Greater Simonsberg Conservancy is built on the belief that meaningful conservation happens when landowners work together at a landscape level. The presence of leopards in the broader Simonsberg area is a powerful reminder of why sustainable land management matters.”

In 2025, the GSC demonstrated that commitment in concrete terms, donating R50 000 to the CLT — funds raised at the Absa Cape Epic MTB event — to support research, conservation, and education initiatives. It is the kind of collaboration that makes conservation viable in a region where wild and cultivated land coexist in close proximity.

Snares, Schools, and Smarter Kraals

Protecting leopards in the winelands is not only about camera traps and corridors. One of the most pressing threats in the region is the illegal setting of snares, which indiscriminately trap predators and prey alike. In 2023, the CLT launched its Snare Free Hotline and began facilitating awareness workshops for GSC members — a practical intervention aimed at changing behaviour on the ground, one farm at a time.

The CLT’s education team has also been active within the Conservancy, running eco-club lessons, school presentations, and educational outings that bring young people into the conversation about coexistence. Conservation, after all, is generational work.

Perhaps the most innovative initiative to emerge in the field of leopard conservation over the past few years  is the Mobi-kraal project — a programme to develop affordable, mobile predator-proof livestock enclosures that reduce the incentive for retaliatory killing of leopards. In 2025, Boschendal, another GSC member property, became the first test site to receive a prototype. The message is clear: with the right tools and partnerships, agriculture and conservation do not have to be in conflict. 

Walk for the Wild: Lacing Up for Leopards

On 9 May 2026, Delheim Wine Estate will open its mountain trails to hikers and trail runners for the inaugural Walk for the Wild — a fundraising event in support of the Cape Leopard Trust and the Simonsberg Conservancy. Participants can expect a 10-kilometre route through moderate, well-maintained terrain, with elevated sections offering sweeping views over the Stellenbosch valley. Trail runners must start promptly at 08:00, while hikers enjoy a rolling start between 08:00 and 10:00.

Tickets are priced at R450 per person and are bookable via Quicket. The event promises more than a morning on the mountain: it is a chance to walk through leopard country with purpose, to understand the landscape these animals navigate, and to contribute directly to their protection. Participants will learn about leopards and the conservation work being done in their name, combining outdoor adventure with something increasingly rare — a genuine connection to wild nature.

A Model for the Future

What Delheim and the Greater Simonsberg Conservancy represent is a model worth paying attention to. In a country where conservation budgets are stretched and wild habitat is under constant pressure, the engagement of private landowners — winegrowers, farmers, and estate managers — may be among the most powerful tools available. Camera traps on wine farms. Fundraising at cycling events. Hiking trails that raise money for leopard research. These are not small gestures; they are part of a coherent, landscape-level approach to keeping a magnificent predator alive in one of the world’s most celebrated wine regions.

The leopard of the Cape does not know that it lives above some of the world’s finest Chenin Blanc and Cabernet Sauvignon vines. But for those who tend those vines — and who look up at the Simonsberg with a sense of responsibility for what moves through it — that proximity feels like both a privilege and an obligation. Nora Thiel and Delheim are making sure that obligation is honoured.

Walk for the Wild | 9 May 2026 | Delheim Hiking Trail, Stellenbosch | 10km | R450pp | Book via Quicket

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Walks range from flat and easy to steep and challenging. The following grading is used:
Steepness: 1 (walk) to 4 (rock climb)
Exposure: A (none) to C (high)
Level of effort: Green (easy) to Red (difficult)

We share the club’s 2026 programme.

For more information reach out to the indicated contact person or consult the General Information document or use www.stbvoetslaan.co.za or the WhatsApp group.

Longer hikes

About

Stellenbosch Hiking Club fees:

• Visitor’s fees for non-members is R30 per person per hike.
• Membership fees for 2026 is R140 per member per year.

For more information on the club and upcoming events:

• www.stbvoetslaan.co.za
• Facebook
• Instagram
• WhatsApp

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This is the third edition of Waterwise Gardening in South Africa and Namibia. It’s fresh, new – and weighs 2.5kg! Why was it important to revisit and expand the book? It was long overdue – the first edition appeared 25 years ago. Knowledge and plant names are always evolving, so it was time for a fully updated version.

Ten years ago, when I retired from Kirstenbosch, Koos Bekker, owner of Babylonstoren, invited me to join their team, and I’m very thankful for his support. This new edition, published by Babylonstoren, is much thicker – with updated plant names, street trees for each region, and the most wonderful botanical illustrations. I’ve also added practical gardening tips and expanded sections on beneficial wildlife and pest control.

This book really is my life’s work. I’ve written many, but this one gave me the most joy. It’s the one I most wanted to publish as it represents a new garden philosophy: working with nature, not against it.

How would you like to see people use it? My philosophy is simple: Choose the most resilient local indigenous species for each biome and they’ll take care of themselves. Then, when planting and restoring a garden, follow nature’s pattern: start with the fast-growing pioneers and end with the long-lived perennials. That’s true ecological gardening. The book helps people choose wisely and bring a piece of the veld into their own homes. South Africa has nine plant regions: check the biome map to see where your garden falls, then head to the relevant chapter. It tells you exactly which plants thrive locally. I’ve chosen the best for each region, from fynbos and thicket to succulent Karoo, following nature’s lead.

In the wild, it’s the fast-growing pioneer plants that appear first after disturbances such as veld fires. So start your garden with these pioneers, then fill in with other species.

The book’s tables guide you on the best starting points, architectural plants and trees. Decades of experience at Kirstenbosch, Babylonstoren, and in the field have gone into these choices.

Afrikaans plant names spark joy: skilpadsam­ breeltjie, skoenveterbossie, skotteloortjie … Why was it important for you to include these common names alongside the scientific and English names? The Afrikaans names are part of our cultural history. Verneukhalfmensie, Kaokowolftoon …

They developed in everyday speech and are often very descriptive. Take, for example, the kanniedood – it literally means ‘the plant cannot die’! The folk names are also specific to certain regions, reflecting local culture and knowledge.

The reptile folk names are lovely too. One of my favourites is blafgeitjie (barking gecko). As dusk falls in the dry parts of South Africa, you can hear it ‘bark’.

The wine honeybells (Freylinia visseri) is one of Ernst’s favourite botanical illustrations in the book. He nursed this strandveld shrub back to life after it nearly vanished from the wild.

The book is filled with stunning photographs and illustrations. Do you have a favourite that captures the spirit of indigenous gardening? One of my favourites is the botanical illus- tration of the honeybells or suurlat (Freylinia visseri), a Strandveld shrub that came close to vanishing from the wild. In the eighties, I stumbled upon a dried, unnamed specimen in the Compton Herbarium – a real find for a plant sleuth. Some detective work led me to Grootklipfontein near Aurora, where I met oom Floors Visser. He showed me the last two remaining plants which he had saved from a region where it was ploughed up.

I took cuttings, nursed them back to life and had them painted by Ellaphie Ward-Hilhorst. I then named it after Floors Visser, who saved it from extinction! Today, the plant is flourishing, its lilac tubular flowers lighting up Strandveld and fynbos gardens. A beautiful example of ex situ conservation.

I also love the photo of the young Fynbos Garden at Babylonstoren, which I started a decade ago with fast-growing pioneer plants, exactly as I recommend for anyone starting a garden. The Babylonstoren garden has since matured beautifully.

You often say a healthy garden hums with life. Can you share an example of how planting indigenous species brings wildlife back? When we planted the rock garden at Babylonstoren, I started with colourful pioneer plants that attract insects. Soon indigenous predators arrived. The first lizard to move in was the striking three-striped Cape skink. Blue-headed southern rock agamas and girdle-tailed lizards adapted beautifully, feasting on pests like grasshoppers and moths.

We didn’t have chameleons until we planted restios, and now we have plenty of local angulate tortoises (Chersina angulata) munching on succulents. When you plant indigenous, the local critters follow. Just look at the aloes with their beautiful inflorescences bearing tubular flowers. They attract sunbirds that perch on their sturdy scapes.

Your own garden in Die Boord, Stellenbosch, is teeming with life. Tell us about that. The previous owner, a Kalahari native, had planted a little oasis of palms and tree ferns. The first thing I did was switch off the irrigation. I’m slowly transforming it into an indigenous garden with local wild olive trees. Next, we’ll replace the lawn with gravel and hardy groundcovers that can handle the heat.

It took me eight years to convince my wife to turn our chlorine pool into an eco-friendly one. After planting eelgrass, marginal aquatics and local water lilies, the water turned crystal clear. The finches noticed right away and started nesting in the tree above, which chlorine would have made impossible.

Now the evenings bring a chorus of frogs. I even raise young Cape terrapins (turtles) from Babylonstoren in the pool until they’re strong enough to go back. Every afternoon at four, their little heads pop up for a snack of mince or snails – they’ve become quite greedy! The water is so clean you could drink it. And I can still swim in it.

If you were to do a spot of guerrilla gardening in Stellenbosch, which street trees would you plant? Personally, I would want to turn the ‘Eikestad’ into ‘Olienhoutstad’. The oak is from Europe and doesn’t thrive here. The trunks hollow out and keeping the trees healthy is difficult. They get aphid infestations and then the sticky sap drips onto cars, so they have to be sprayed every year. Fortunately, the municipality started planting indigenous species, which is encouraging. I’d like to plant more Breede River yellow-wood (Podocarpus elongatus), Cape chestnut (Calodendrum capense) and the coral tree with its brilliant red flowers. The forest elder (Nuxia floribunda) is lovely too, bursting with white blooms in winter.

You’ve studied succulents for decades. What makes them so special to you? Succulents have been my passion since childhood. They range from tiny baby’s toes a few millimetres tall to the great baobab, and South Africa has the richest succulent diversity in the world. These plants are self-sufficient survivors shaped by hardship – drought, grazing and time – and they’ve become beautiful architectural forms that have endured for thousands of years.

Aloes and other succulents give nectar to sunbirds and bees, and shelter to lizards. Their sheer diversity, spread across some 45 plant families, makes succulents endlessly fascinating.

Some also make perfect house plants, ideal for small spaces. Dwarf succulents are sociable when grouped together, and cuttings are easy to share with neighbours. My advice? Give plants away freely; we’re all working towards something larger.

Mimicry, water storage, camouflage … Which survival strategy fascinates you most? I’m most taken with what I call “passive resistance” – plants that don’t fight back with thorns or toxins but simply endure and regrow. Take spekboom (Portulacaria afra), cotyledon or crassula; when grazed or trampled, their broken bits root and start new plants, turning damage into growth. That lesson from nature stays with me: don’t lie down under pressure, grow from it.

For my PhD I studied cliff plants: the cliff- huggers, cliff-hangers and cliff-squatters. The rock is their shelter, so they need no spines or poisons. Watching those patterns – how some cling, dangle or press flat between rocks – was endlessly revealing. Nature always finds a way.

At Babylonstoren you’ve helped create living plant museums, from the Succulent House to the arboretum and rockeries. Which of these projects felt most rewarding? The Welwitschia Garden is very close to my heart. During Covid, the owner of Babylonstoren asked me to build a large succulent garden between the vegetable garden and the greenhouse.

I asked if I could create a welwitschia garden there. It’s the only true evergreen plant in the world. It never sheds its leaves, just keeps growing two long ribbons like a slow conveyor belt and can live for up to 2 500 years. Flies pollinate it and its winged seeds scatter on the wind. The wonder of the Namib, the two-leaved kanniedood is found only from Swakopmund to southern Angola. A minimalist plant that carries no baggage. Even when grazed, it grows back, still the same two leaves.

I also loved the Babylonstoren rooftop garden with quiver trees. It’s a miniature South Africa in three layers: succulent Karoo on top, thicket vegetation on the side, and fynbos across the rest. Rugged, layered, alive.

What first sparked your love for indigenous plants? My earliest memories are from my grandmother’s apartment in Blairgowrie, Johannesburg. I’d help her transplant wandering Jews and hen-and-chickens, and watch them survive, regrow and thrive. It was magical.

Holidays on my grandfather’s farms near Heidelberg deepened my fascination. He gave me books on aloes and one called Trees and Shrubs of the Witwatersrand, and I learnt the plants’ names before I knew much schoolwork. I was always outside, climbing trees, exploring the veld – that’s where I really learnt.

In high school, seeing people replace our rich local flora with European and Australian plants upset me. That’s when I decided to make it my life’s work to teach people to plant indigenous species.

South Africa has the world’s richest plant diversity, from the Cape Floristic Region in the south to the summer rainfall savanna in the north, with deserts and tropical coasts in between. We are incredibly lucky to have so much to choose from, and it’s ours to cherish.

After all these years, is there something in nature that still stops you in your tracks? There’s a vine in the Bushveld called Aaron’s staff (Tinospora fragosa). It starts life as a climbing plant but because it’s an edible succulent, elephants eat it off the trees. Sometimes the poor plant hangs 10m above the ground, severed from the soil. And yet, instead of dying, it grows a survival root. A lifeline. That root grows 3cm–4cm a day until it finally reaches the earth.

I’m amazed every time I see it. From a broken stump comes a tiny root, refusing to give up. Once it reaches the ground, the vine grows again, stores water in its stem, and even if animals eat it off again, it just grows another root. Soon heart-shaped leaves appear and red berries form to be spread by birds. It’s a plant with immense resilience, a lesson for us all. Never give up, no matter how badly life bites.

If you could leave one message for future gardeners and botanists, what would it be? If a plant won’t grow, try again. You learn through mistakes. Don’t believe you don’t have green fingers. Start with a spekboom or a crassula. Watch it grow and develop, and your confidence will grow too.

Plants are like people – they want to live. Sometimes I find a tiny leaf on my windowsill and feel sorry for it. I put it in water, and when I see it start to swell and grow, it’s pure joy. It never gives up. It just starts again, becoming a whole new plant.

More Information

The new Waterwise Gardening in South Africa and Namibia is available from Babylonstoren’s online shop and the farm shop at R790. It is published by Tip Africa Publishing (publishers of Stellenbosch Visio) on behalf of Babylonstoren.

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^{Reptiles have been Emile Rossouw’s passion since his childhood in Die Boord. Today, when he’s not out on a call, you’ll find him at home in Stellenbosch with his family and pet snakes like Fanie, the Gaboon viper.}

For most of us, it is our worst nightmare come true. A yellow- black tail disappearing into the wood pile beneath the braai. A fat puff adder curled up beneath the dog’s basket. A commotion in the trees that turns out to be a boomslang on the hunt. But for snake catcher Emile Rossouw, it’s all in a day’s work.

In the height of summer, Emile whose real day job is in property, is always ready to take a frantic call. On the end of the line? Someone in Stellenbosch with a venomous snake in their home.

In the past year, Emile (@stellenbosch_snake_removals) has blown up on social media, his almost 32 000 Instagram followers enthralled by his snake captures in and around Stellenbosch.

Growing up in Die Boord where their family home backed onto an open field, he and his brother would spend days catching snakes. When he turned 12, his parents finally allowed him to buy his own pet snake. “From then on, it was over,” he says and laughingly points at the pet snakes he keeps in his home in De Zalze. “I love animals in general, but I’ve always been fascinated by snakes and creepy crawlies!” Learning about snakes from local experts and volunteering at Animal Zone in Klapmuts taught Emile all he needed to know about handling reptiles. At one stage he kept more than 40 highly venomous snakes – and a hefty monitor lizard – in his bedroom at home.

Word soon got out and, at the age of 15, he became the person to call if you had a snake on the property and wanted it gone. Today, as Stellenbosch expands and development encroaches into the natural areas around town, he is as busy as ever. In the height of snake season – the hot summer months from October to March – Emile’s phone can ring up to six times a day from locals needing help.

“WITHIN THE FIRST FEW SECONDS, I HAVE A VERY GOOD IDEA OF HOW A SNAKE IS GOING TO BEHAVE. BUT IF I DON’T GET IT RIGHT, I NEED TO KNOW HOW TO REACT.”

Watch a few of his videos and you’ll soon wonder why he’s not wearing any protective equipment. He can be seen climbing trees and crawling into cupboards wearing just a T-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. And carrying a snake hook.

“It’s easy for people to say I’m being reckless, but that’s because they don’t understand snake behaviour,” says Emile. “It’s a little like Newton’s law of action and reaction. If I move aggressively, the snake is going to come back aggressively and try and bite me. It takes time to learn behaviour, but what’s most important is that if I am calm and move slowly, the snake will be calm. The only exception is a boomslang. Then you need to move quickly; otherwise they will disappear into the trees and you never catch them.”

He is quick to admit that snakes can be unpredictable and, while it’s easy to generalise about snake behaviour, he always focuses on the exception to the rule. “Within the first few seconds, I have a very good idea of how a snake is going to behave. But if I don’t get it right, I need to know how to react. And that’s not something you can learn in a course. It’s all about years of experience. Every time I catch a snake, it’s a different scenario.”

Remarkably, Emile has been bitten by a venomous snake only once: a Cape cobra captured outside the tasting room of a Stellenbosch wine farm. Although he spent a day in intensive care as a precaution, it was a ‘dry’ bite – no venom was injected – and he was home the next day.

That bite was a rare misstep in an otherwise simple retrieval. Others haven’t been so easy.

Emile was recently called out to deal with a Cape cobra under a house on stilts. The snake was hiding in the narrow gap where the house met the hillside. “I had to crawl in with my headlamp,” he recalls. “As I approached, the cobra was hooding and struck at me a few times. But as soon as it turned, I pulled it with the hook and grabbed its tail. But then I had to crawl back out of this narrow space, dragging a huge cobra behind me! And it was one of the biggest cobras I’d ever caught!”

Having caught a snake, Emile returns it to a wilderness area as close as possible to the point of capture, while minimising the likelihood of the snake returning to a built-up area. He is certified by CapeNature, Stellenbosch Municipality and the University of Stellenbosch to capture and release snakes in and around town.

If the snake is injured, he’ll work with local vets and return the snake to full health before releasing it.

Although Emile does not charge for capturing snakes, he usually requests a nominal call-out fee of R500 to cover the transport costs of capture and release.

Remarkably, many Stellenbosch residents refuse to pay and would rather kill or capture the snake themselves, risking being bitten in the process.

“It’s frustrating because I definitely don’t make money from capturing snakes,” says Emile. “It’s actually costing me money to drive out and capture the snake, then drive home, then go out again to release the snake.” For residents without the means to contribute, he gladly removes the snakes for free to ensure they are unharmed.

“Some housing estates will cover the cost for me to come and remove the snake, which is fantastic, but I’d really like to see this included as a municipal service,” he says. “Not only do snakes keep rat and mouse populations in check, but they are also food for a lot of other animals, such as mongooses and owls. They are so important for our environment.” 

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THE SKIES ARE GREY, the low-hanging clouds pregnant with rain, as my Air Tanzania flight drops down towards Arusha. As we bank and line up with the runway, the clouds part briefly, revealing the shining dome of Mount Kilimanjaro glistening in the sunlight.

“You saw Kili? That means you will have good luck!” says my driver with a grin as we turn onto the road leading from the airport to Arusha. Whether he’s for real or merely working a smile from a weary traveller, it’s hard to tell, but I’ll never refuse a free dose of good fortune. Not when I’ve flown halfway across Africa to witness one of the greatest wildlife spectacles on the planet.

The vast, open plains and winding rivers of the iconic Serengeti National Park attract safari travellers from around the world. But nearly every journey to one of the globe’s most famous wilderness areas begins here, beneath the towering peaks of Mount Kilimanjaro and Mount Meru. Arusha serves as the gateway to the East African safari circuit and is a charming little town where it’s well worth spending a day or two to catch your breath. After dropping my bags at Legendary Lodge, a lovely boutique hotel on a historic coffee estate, I set out to explore.

Arusha is lively and lush in the dry season, the bustling edges of the city softened by the vibrant purple blossoms of jacaranda trees. First stop? The Cultural Heritage Gallery. But walk right past the market of predictable carvings and head for the gallery itself, a vast spiralling space inspired by New York’s Guggenheim and brimming with art from across Africa.

There’s a section dedicated to Kenyan painter and sculptor Mike Ghaui, but also look for the signature works by influential Tanzanian artist Edward Tingatinga.

For a break from the hustle and bustle, the Arusha Coffee Estate is worth a visit for a fine cup in the courtyard, as is the Shanga workshop, a social enterprise offering glassware, jewellery and fabric made by the town’s disabled community.

More Than the Serengeti

While Serengeti National Park claims much of the limelight, the region surrounding Arusha is home to a network of remarkable parks and ecosystems. The Ngorongoro Crater is one of seven World Heritage Sites in Tanzania and is arguably as famous as the Serengeti. However, within just a few hours’ drive of Arusha you could as easily discover the tree-climbing lions and flamingo flocks of Lake Manyara, the vast elephant herds of Tarangire or the myriad community conservation areas that protect the ancient pathways supporting the famous migrations of East Africa. My journey begins in a little-known concession making a big impact.

With a focus on community, conservation and a more mindful approach to safari, Chem Chem’s three character-filled camps share a 20 000ha private concession that has helped to revive the Kwakuchinja corridor linking Tarangire and Lake Manyara national parks – a vital piece in the jigsaw puzzle of the Great Migration.

Alongside the intimate Little Chem Chem and exclusive-use Forest Lodge, Chem Chem Lodge offers eight airy tented suites set among a forest of palm and acacia trees, where raised boardwalks meander between grassland and forest to connect the canvas-and-stone villas that gaze out over open plains.

Lake Manyara sparkles in the distance, attracting a myriad of birdlife to the area too. It’s the kind of place where giraffes might nibble the acacias at the edge of the deck or a herd of zebras thunder past as you make your way to the spa. Wellness is central to the Chem Chem experience, but not solely in the spa.

Often billed as the home of the ‘Slow Safari’, Chem Chem focuses on being present in the landscape, whether on a game drive or enjoying a walking safari close to the lodge.

It’s an environment where you can spend an hour watching a waterhole for Fischer’s lovebirds or admire a long-crested eagle staring imperiously down from a treetop perch.

Our last morning began with a barefoot meditation: “Feel your toes. Thank your legs for carrying you. Notice the wind,” suggested our guide, Salum Mpapa. With our eyes closed, our senses were heightened, every birdsong seeming much louder, making our walk along the shores of Lake Manyara all the more vivid. In a landscape renowned for more, Chem Chem encourages guests to savour the small delights.

Now that we were thoroughly grounded in the landscape of East Africa, it was time for the main event. After an hour’s flight to the north, the wheels of our Cessna Grand Caravan skidded down onto a strip in the far reaches of the Serengeti. A place spoken of in hushed tones when it comes to finding the best migration game-viewing in the Serengeti: the Lamai Wedge.

A triangle formed by the winding Mara River and the border with Kenya, the Lamai Wedge is the Serengeti you’ve seen on screen: a landscape of wide grassy plains filled with sinuous lines of wildebeest herds stretching to the horizon. Thomson’s gazelles dance skittishly between them, while small families of Defassa waterbuck – minus the white ‘toilet seat’ we’d recognise in southern Africa – eland and topi find space amid the masses. Gazing out, it’s a landscape where the grasslands are dotted with the umbrella canopies of acacia-like balanites, ubiquitous trees where leopards may stash their gazelles or prides of lions pant in the daytime heat.

Lamai plays host to a clutch of luxury lodges that offer the epitome of safari comfort, but for a more authentic experience, I opted for a tented camp that moves, like the herds, with the seasons. Legendary Expeditions’ Nyasi Migration Camp takes full advantage of the clockwise migration, beginning the year in the southern grasslands as the wildebeest calve and then tracking the herds as they follow the rains and graze northwards. By September, this elegant mobile camp is pitched on a hillside in the Lamai Wedge, near the Mara River and in an ideal position for witnessing the Great Migration.

It’s a camp that’s low-key yet comfortable, with canvas tents – complete with en-suite showers where hot water comes courtesy of wood-fired boilers – tucked into the woodland. The camp is entirely unfenced and it’s not unusual for nights to be disturbed by the honking of wildebeest or the whoop of hyenas just beyond the canvas. Pitched among the suites are a handful of dining tents, each allocated to a guest to ensure complete privacy while on safari. Families and couples will love it.

And unlike most camps, which charge a hefty premium for the privilege, guests at Nyasi enjoy their own private vehicle, allowing them to set the pace for daily game drives. On our first evening, we ventured out onto the plains to soak in the sheer enormity of the landscape, savouring the russet tones of sunset on the grasslands. The following morning, we had a river crossing in our sights.

Witnessing a herd crossing the Mara River is a process carefully managed by the guides, with vehicles waiting at specific crossing points and maintaining a safe distance from the river as the herds gather and debate whether to attempt the treacherous crossing. He who dares, wins. Or gets eaten. Fortunately, for us at least, the overnight rain on our side of the Mara River was far too tempting for the herds to resist, and at crossing #7 a herd of approximately 8 000 wildebeest took the plunge into the river.

For the next half hour, we watched in awe – mingled with a touch of horror – as the wildebeest swam for their lives, eyes bulging and lungs heaving, as crocodiles sank beneath the surface to pick off the slowest. The wildebeest that made it across and up the steep sandy banks were doubly fortunate; today there were no lions lying in wait, but often even the shore offers no sanctuary. In the river, the crocodiles concealed their kill in the branches of a sunken tree and returned for another. It was nature, red in tooth and claw, and it lived up to every expectation I had.

That afternoon we left the river behind and set off in search of birds. While the massed herds are a highlight, birders will be as thrilled by the abundance of birdlife in the Serengeti. Within just a few hours, we spotted little bee-eaters and yellow-throated longclaws, along with bare-faced go-away-birds and dark chanting goshawks. From the branches of balanites trees, black-chested snake eagles and Montagu harriers glared down at us. High above, scanning a landscape abundant with easy meals, white-headed and Rüppell’s vultures floated on the thermals.

And so the days unfurled like the grasslands themselves. We discussed a trip to the southern bank, but with a bridge washed away at Kogatende, it would entail a lengthy round trip. And besides, who would want to waste a minute in the Lamai Wedge? Not me.

As my Cessna took off, its nose pointed south towards Arusha, the true scale of the Great Migration unfolded below. Wildebeest streamed across the landscape like an army of ants on the march. On the fringes, zebras and Thomson’s gazelles went along for the ride, and I swear I caught sight of a lioness down there in hot pursuit. Perhaps my driver had been right after all. The snows of Kilimanjaro had brought me no end of good fortune.

Nature’s Endless Cycle

Want to see the Great Migration? Where you go depends on when you plan to travel.

• JANUARY–MARCH: CALVING SEASON In the lush grasslands of the southern Serengeti, near Ndutu, thousands of calves are born, attracting predators and providing memorable sightings.
• APRIL–JUNE: HEADING NORTH The herds move through the central Serengeti to the western corridor, with quieter safaris and dramatic Grumeti River crossings.
• JULY–SEPTEMBER: MARA RIVER CROSSINGS The migration peaks with river crossings into the Lamai Wedge and north into Kenya’s Maasai Mara.
• OCTOBER–DECEMBER: RETURNING SOUTH As rains fall in the south, the herds journey back through the central Serengeti towards Ndutu, completing the cycle.

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This annual migration is a highlight at the De Hoop Collection, a private concession within the reserve offering a variety of accommodation options, from romantic suites and family cottages to restored farmhouses. While the whales are undoubtedly the main draw in winter and spring, De Hoop offers an immersive experience all year round.

For nature lovers, the reserve’s 36 000 hectares of rich biodiversity host a range of terrestrial and marine life. Cape mountain zebra, bontebok, eland and baboons roam the fynbos plains, while over 260 species of birds — including the rare African black oystercatcher — make it a favourite for birdwatchers. The coastal dunes, vlei system and limestone cliffs offer some of the most varied landscapes in the Western Cape, perfect for hiking, mountain biking, or simply soaking up the silence.

Guests can join a guided marine walk to explore the intertidal pools and rocky shorelines teeming with sea life, or take a scenic eco-boat cruise on the Ramsar-listed De Hoop Vlei, where flamingos and pelicans glide past in golden afternoon light. For those seeking relaxation, the Fig Tree Restaurant on site offers hearty, seasonal fare and South African wines, while the saltwater pool  ensure downtime is well catered for.

One of the most memorable experiences remains watching a Southern Right whale breach as you sip morning coffee on the dunes, or stargazing in the quiet of a reserve untouched by light pollution.

De Hoop’s charm lies not only in its natural spectacle but in its quiet luxury and unhurried rhythm — a place where time slows and nature takes centre stage.

Plan your visit:
To find out more or to book your stay, visit www.dehoopcollection.com.

Travel tip: Whale watching is best between late July and early October, with peak sightings in August and September. Don’t forget your binoculars!

The post The Giants Return to De Hoop appeared first on Stellenbosch Visio.

Disbelief. Mixed, of course, with a generous dose of awe and wonder. Yet, as my heavy polar boots crunched down onto the graded blue ice of Novo runway, my overriding emotion was disbelief. After years of dreaming, months of planning and weeks of waiting to see if the travel arrangements would fall into place, here I was. Boots down on my seventh continent. A mile of ice beneath my soles and a week to explore a place I never imagined I would experience.

Antarctic tourism has boomed over the past two decades, driven largely by expedition ships that carry more tourists than ever to the Antarctic Peninsula. Sailing from Ushuaia in southern Argentina, ships brave the Drake Passage to explore the finger of Antarctica reaching north. During the 2023–2024 season, more than 120 000 tourists visited Antarctica, most aboard cruise ships skirting the Peninsula. Some 80 000 of them were fortunate enough to step ashore, but how many travellers had the privilege of visiting the ‘deep-field’ ice sheets of Antarctica?

Less than 1% of Antarctic tourists visits the interior of the continent, and though numbers will always remain low due to the remote and hostile environment, the launch of Ultima Antarctic Expeditions in 2024 looks to be a game-changer for deep-field Antarctic tourism.

White Desert pioneered the concept of fly-in adventures to Antarctica in the early 2000s, whisking affluent travellers south in a private jet. Ultima takes a slightly different approach. With decades of experience in Antarctic logistics as it helps to maintain national polar research stations on the continent, Ultima combines scientific programme support with sustainable tourism in an extraordinary new flying adventure that transports travellers from the Mother City to Antarctica’s Queen Maud Land in just six hours.

Which is how I found myself wrestling into cold-weather gear amid the roar of an Ilyushin-76 TD-90 as it descended through a clear blue sky towards Novo runway. Around us were dozens of Indian scientists all, like me, grinning broadly as we pulled on thermal layers, down jackets and heavy boots. Pavel, the indefatigable cabin attendant looking after what was something between a passenger plane and a cargo hold, rushed around assisting where he could. The burly Russian engineers up front sat eating pot noodles while checking their gauges.

And then we were down. The doors swung open and the ladder locked into place. One small step, and the ice crunched beneath my boots. I won’t lie; there were some tears. Antarctica will do that to you.

With runway photos taken and bags loaded, we set off for Ultima’s Oasis Camp, just a half-hour drive from the runway. Perched on the rocks of the Schirmacher Oasis – free of ice even in the depths of winter – this is an oasis of a different sort. It is also an oasis of comfort in the depths of the world’s driest, coldest and windiest continent. We would experience all three elements in the week to come, but upon arrival the welcome couldn’t have been warmer, with a friendly team of chefs, hosts and guides ready to help us settle in.

Ultima’s Oasis Camp is spread across three buildings that contain both sleeping and living quarters. While they may appear simple from the outside, hunkered down against the weather, they are remarkably comfortable indoors. Bedrooms come with warm down duvets – and hot water bottles too – while the communal lounge area boasts glorious picture windows for long hours of gazing out at the landscape. Bathrooms are shared and functional, but offer the Antarctic luxury of hot showers.

A few steps along snow-lined boardwalks take you to the dining area and communal lounge, where chef Jesse Wollenschlaeger creates a remarkable array of dining experiences throughout our days on the ice. When the weather is fine – which means the mercury’s near zero – it might involve a braai on the deck. When a storm rolls in and the temperature drops to -20°C with wind chill, expect hearty dishes with a contemporary spin. Think dishes of duck and Camembert pie, a mezze platter with beetroot hummus and, on another day, prawn and cabbage potstickers. One evening features salmon in an umami- packed Asian sauce. Paired with Stellenbosch wines and craft beer from Cape Town, it’s easy to forget exactly where you are.

Until you look out the window and are suddenly reminded that you’re dining in a landscape of endless ice and rock. This may sound like a terra incognita, a vast white nothingness, unless you have skilled guides to bring the ice to life.

To lead its various itineraries, ranging from one to seven days, Ultima employs some of the best guides in the business. Their years of experience in the polar latitudes, both north and south of the equator, transform a simple wander across the surrounding ice fields into a deep dive into polar ecosystems. From lichen to frozen air bubbles, the minutiae of deep-field Antarctica add layers of discovery to every outing. In weather fine or foul, we’d layer up in our thermal gear – Ultima supplies all the heavy-duty polar clothing required – and tackle the peaks surrounding Oasis Camp, admiring distant ice fields.

The deep-field ice sheets of Antarctica offer a remarkable level of raw beauty, but the harsh environment means that little life can survive so far from the ocean. With the sea – and feeding grounds – more than 80km away, only a handful of bird species are hardy enough to endure here. On cliffs near Oasis Camp we observe tiny Wilson’s storm petrels diving and swooping to their rocky nests. South polar skuas, with their hooked beaks and scavenging habits, easily find a home wherever there are easy pickings, making them a regular sight at scientific bases. Adélie penguins are occasional, curious visitors.

But there’s one bird that is the undoubted star of Antarctica: the emperor penguin.
Most of Ultima’s longer itineraries include a flying visit to nearby penguin colonies. An exhilarating flight in a Twin Otter whisks travellers to the edge of the sea ice and then it’s just a short hike to admire these supremely elegant polar birds. The excursion takes a day; roughly an hour at the colony is bookended by dramatic flights across the Antarctic landscape.

Every visit is closely monitored and controlled to ensure there is no adverse impact on the penguin colonies. Ultima, like all members of the International Association of Antarctic Tour Operators (IAATO), adheres to strict protocols during trips where birdlife may be encountered, ensuring that boots are thoroughly disinfected and guests maintain a safe distance from the wildlife at all times.

Ultima’s longer itineraries also feature a two-day adventure to the South Pole aboard a refurbished Basler BT-67 ski-plane, as well as flying excursions to the stunning Drygalski Mountains.

But even the shorter itineraries offer no shortage of ways to fill your days at Oasis Camp. One of the longer hikes takes travellers off the escarpment to explore the myriad hues of a tunnel carved out of the ice shelf by time and meltwater, while a journey across the ice sheet unveils towering glaciers and ice lakes. It’s a landscape both breathtaking and beguiling – unearthly in its beauty yet staggering in its hostility. How Shackleton, Scott and Amundsen managed to endure, I will never understand

When Shackleton left Endurance at the bottom of the Weddell Sea, it took him years to reach home by ship. My ride, on the other hand, was already heading south out of Cape Town to collect me. The Ilyushin was on its way, but after a taste of terra incognita, I wasn’t ready to leave.

DON’T FORGET TO PACK…

• THIN INNER GLOVES: Protect your fingers while taking photographs outdoors.
• WARM, MOISTURE-WICKING SOCKS: The best option for the ice boots Ultima supplies.
• HIGH-SPF SUNSCREEN AND LIP BALM: Sun and wind burn happens easily on the ice.
• PEAK CAP AND POLARISING SUNGLASSES: The glare off the ice is blinding, even on cloudy days.
• BUFF: For protecting your nose and lips from the sun and wind.
• THERMAL LAYERS: Being able to layer up and down is essential.

ULTIMA DAY EXPEDITION

If your pocket doesn’t allow for a week on the ice, Ultima’s 24-hour adventure offers a more accessible experience. This compact journey leaves Cape Town in the morning and arrives at Novo in the mid-afternoon. While the Ilyushin offloads and pilots rest, travellers spend about 10 hours on the ice, exploring ice tunnels and glaciers while soaking in the beauty of the ice fields and the midnight sun, before flying back to Cape Town. It’s a 24-hour experience you won’t forget.

NEED TO KNOW

• Ultima Antarctic Expeditions’ next season runs from November 2025 to January 2026.
• Emperor penguin colony visits are usually only possible in November and December.
• Expeditions range from one to seven days and include flights, accommodation, meals, excursions in Antarctica and the services of highly qualified guides.
• Cold-weather gear is provided.
• Costs range from $12 000 for the 24-hour Ultima Day to $85 000 for the eight-day South Pole and Emperor Penguin Expedition.

Visit ultima-antarcticexpeditions.com for more.

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