The Morelands head into the hinterlands of southern Africa…
Some 20 plus years ago a young son of a farming family, from deep in the interior of South Africa, found his way to join the crew of the Barque Picton Castle. No surprise to say that the ship was in Cape Town on a voyage around the world. He just had to get aboard. There is a living memory of South Africans heading off to sea in square-rig to learn their craft of seamanship. This is best done under sail. The Bark Lawhill, a Finnish sailing ship taken over during WWII, was South Africa’s Tall Ship. For many years young South Africans got their start at sea in the Lawhill. It was my privilege to know some of these mariners in later years. So young Hendrik van Schalkwyk was in good company back in time. The last Chief Mate of the Lawhill, Captain Phil Nankin, went on to establish the South African merchant marine training program – and also built an outstanding sail training ship for that purpose, a stout robust wooden motor-sailing ketch, the Howard Davis. I was proud to have known him and many other Cape Horn seafarers. His son Rick, who has the North Sail Loft here, dropped by the ship today. Great to see him.
Bark Lawhill awaiting a tug.
This young Hendrik ended up staying with the ship many years and became a Lead Seaman – and Bosun. And a first class one at that. He came from the Free State hundreds of miles deep into South Africa, far, far from the ocean sea. He had grown up on a sheep farm. Farm kids tend to make good seafarers, as they must needs live with the weather and seasons as few others do. And they have to fix things when they get busted – and do so ‘now’ to get the crop in – and not next week. And to do it themselves as outside expertise is often far away, hours or even days away. Looking for young people not afraid of a little work? Thems that be raised on farms fit the bill.
Over the years we had stayed in touch with the family, his younger brother Danie later joined the ship for a world voyage as our engineer, a voyage into the Great Lakes, and even moved to Canada and married a Canadian lass who he met in this ship. For years, and for voyage after voyage I, then Tammy and I and Dawson, have been invited up north to the Free State to take in a visit on their farm not far from Bloemfontain. We have always been keen on the idea of this trek but with one thing and another it could get past the starting line. Last time in Cape Town we were at a far less secure berth at the entrance to Duncan Dock. With threats that the ship might be moved daily, and so I, the ship’s captain, could not get away. Now, happily secure at the V&A, if ever this was to come to pass, this was to be the year for us to head into the ‘outback’ of South Africa.
All was rolling along just fine aboard Picton Castle this year of 2024, moored at the Victoria & Alfred Basin (henceforth the V&A). Dirk would be looking after things we had going on there. Some new main decking getting laid down and caulked, big knockaroost on the breezeway overheads (been saving that job for years!) and nice painting afterwards, small weldings here and there, new bottom for the dory, some rigging and painting. All was under control, and we were good to go on our trek.
As it happens 11-year old Dawson is an excellent traveler. He was packed in a minute. Tammy is a most experienced traveler of course and organized all critical logistics. The flight to Bloemfontain was very early in the AM so we took a room at the lovely airport hotel, Hotel Verde with its reliably gracious staff. We got up just in time the next morning to catch a ride to the airport for the early flight. Safair was the carrier, and we could not have been more impressed with the quality and excellence of the airline but also the airport. Everything about it was the best we had every experienced anywhere. Security was thorough but swift. Checking in was a breeze, boarding likewise, with clever improvements to the regular routine helping. Even the boarding ramps to the door of the 737-800 were of a new improved design and much superior to what I have seen before. The plane was full as well. Soon enough we were in the air, landing an hour and half later. Deep in South Africa far away from the coast. A light lunch at a nearby cafe with our old friends and then, by earlier arrangement, off to Grey College to give a talk to the student body of the school on, of course, Picton Castle and our voyages – then to the farm – an hour and a half away. From there we did not budge for a few days. This was a treat and hit the spot, and a change from the ship and the sea. A big change in some ways and not so much in others. A big starry sky, cool nights, evenings spent on the quiet stoep chatting away. No highway noise. No city lights smearing the sky.
Flat and dry, grass and some bush, bright burning sky – can see an antelope miles away. Small rocky hillocks called “koppies” standing a bit proud on the landscape relieving the endless horizon. Dusty and hot under the high sun. Off the paved road and then a kilometre or so on a smooth dirt road we come to the old manse. Not that old I am told, only a century which is not old for this part of the world. Then we did a whole lot of nothing. If I did not finish doing nothing one day, I could carry on doing more nothing the next until I was done. Dawson made friend in a granddaughter, Netty, a bit younger than he. They went off and played all over the place chatting away. Soon they were like very old friends arguing about who should have the TV remote control. Like an old married couple Tammy told me. We are working out the dowry now.
Talking to the lads at Grey’s College. This is a boys’ school with many successful alumni and is a big rugby school, having sent many to the national team the Springboks (who just beat out arch rivals the New Zealand All Blacks…by just ONE point in the recent World Cup Final). I speak on the Picton Castle and our voyages to many groups. But this would be the first time talking to a group of farm-boys in Africa so far from the ocean who have never, ever heard of tall ships, and maybe never having glanced at the sea. I would wing it. With a wonderful video for visuals, it went well with good questions from the lads at the end. Now these lads all want to run away to sea. If they want to join us they will be welcome. Farmers make good seafarers, every time.
This is a sheep farm so we got to see lots of sheep all over the place. No surprise there. And how and where they get sheared and when and how these lambs head off to market. You can imagine what was on the frequent barbeques. Here a BBQ is called a “brai”. A brai is like a BBQ but, we must admit, distinctly different. In North America a BBQ usually has some meat in the form of burgers, hot dogs, chicken, maybe steaks, even fish. And veggie-burgers and typically accompanied by PLENTY non-meat foods as well. Potato salad, three-bean salad, corn on the cob, fruit salad, watermelon and so on. A true out country brai is entirely free of anything connected to vegetable matter. Meat, and a big chunks of it. Mutton, lamb chops, boerewors (farmer sausage), kudu, springbok, beef and so on. Meat and plenty of it – and maybe a salad, maybe not…. It’s still a brai. They say that if they want vegetables they will eat a chicken. Huh? I am not sure that I get that joke… They have other jokes I don’t get too.
A fascinating experience was visiting a couple of those koppies, these small mesas or hillocks that stick up here and there out of the flat veld. Small pushups of rock and bush, often near water. Sometimes you find what is clearly worked stone scattered about. And dark hard stone unassociated with the local bedrock. These are often flake, chips and leftovers from stones that have been worked into tools. Occasionally a finished point or scraper, a piece of one is found laying there. Hard and almost black and a sharp musical tone when struck. Sharp edges. Some pieces are not so obvious but many are even to the untrained eye. Stone tools from 60,000 years ago we were told. Wild. Just sitting there in the dusty dirt. Why there? Well, also, as I am told, working your stone tools on these small hills you could keep a good look out for adversaries across the veld, and/or animals to hunt. I was told that these spots were usually near a spring, so maybe folks were camping or just out and about, hunting and gathering. Makes sense to bivouac on a high spot. Nice view, better breeze, don’t get washed out in a flash flood.
A fun event was heading out into the country in a 4-wheeler after dark to see what kind of wildlife could be seen at night. Dawson wanted to see an armadillo. No luck, but all sorts of other creatures like spring hares (a kangaroo-like hare) other hares, foxes and rock dassie and jackals. And a pony and a big moth. All in under an hour. But no armadillo. Great good fun bombing along in a bouncy 4-wheel drive vee-hick-cull….
Of an evening, as the sun went down, we sat on the back stoep and watch the colors change over the land. Maybe spy some antelopes off in the far distance. Bats and birds snatching bugs, flying about in the quiet of the falling night – or “ascending” as it seems to do looking in the west. Ducks (death to garden snails) waddling across the garden. A feral cat who lives nearby poses for us. And a toad who has made his home in the stoep lumber-hops down the tiles in the full confidence that he is at home. Because he is. Somehow these all add to the quiet parade of life that is rural Free State South Africa chez mes amis.
South Africa is an amazing land with a true rainbow of remarkable citizens. And we continue to bask in the excellence and hospitality of South Africa both in the Free State, and also at that Tavern of the Seas, Cape Town. Excellence and outstanding gracious welcoming wherever we go, but none more so than with our friends on the veld, under the sun in an ancient land. So much thanks must go out.
The lad and his old man looking over the South African veld