Africa
Cybele Forest Lodge and Health Spa
Dateline: White River, Republic of South Africa
We climbed out of Johannesburg and headed east. I was in the right-hand seat of a Magnum Airlines, twin-engine, 8-passenger Piper trying to look nonchalant even though I hadn't piloted in four years and that was in my J3-on-floats: no starter, no radio, one engine, and no wheels! Soon we were punching holes in the clouds at 11,000 feet and while I began to really enjoy myself, the four passengers behind us were showing increasingly pale knuckles.
As we flew into the Eastern Transvaal, the clouds cleared, the lush green veldt slowly rose to meet us and less than an hour from take-off, we stubbed down on the very narrow, very short paved strip at Nelspruit, the area's capital.
A hearty, khaki-clad young man smiled forward and took my bag. It was Greg, my guide from Safari Services based in Nelspruit. He had been brought up in this part of the bush and filled me with facts and philosophy as we drove north, climbing all the time, to White River and beyond. Speaking five Black African languages, he savors the richness of his happy life and his many friends of all colors who are prospering in this unique land.
I had been in South Africa ten years before to bid on establishing a shipping container factory. The Government had agreed to allow the South Africans to buy individual containers that would be leased to international shipping lines. The business community in Jo'burg saw this as a terrific hard-currency earner as well as providing much needed employment. On the other hand, the non-moving shakers in Capetown saw the concept as a great way to move their capital out of the country and onto the high seas (just in case). During the final bidding (which I lost to Nissan), nearly everyone thought I was related to the then President of the United States and, in their curiously parochial way, the more I denied it, the more they believed the opposite and the red carpet got longer every day.
In the middle of it all, Andrew Young, then U.S. Ambassador to the U.N., started the outcry which today has become a deafening scream. I said it then and I say it today: before anyone joins in this now-fashionable chorus, go and see the place first hand and talk to everyone you can – there are many harmonies to the score which certainly isn't going to be settled very soon.
While Capetown is undoubtedly South Africa's most attractive place to spend a holiday—it looks the way Beverly Hills ought to—a visit to a private game camp in the Eastern Transvaal is one of those experiences without which your life won't be complete. And as the world turns, the camps may become as endangered as the game you see and they play...
The road turned from paved to clay as Greg and I wash-boarded our way to 3,000 feet. Then rounding a bend, we were suddenly in the midst of a lush rolling coffee plantation.
We turned into a long tunnel of tall trees and at the end, nearly hidden by Frangipani, Bluegum, and Flamboyant, was the sprawling old farmhouse main building of Cybele Forest Lodge and Health Spa.
On the wide verandah lounged two boxers, two colonials, one kitten, and an African Grey parrot. I said, "Hi, Alfie" to the parrot. It looked the twin of the twenty-year-old pet of an old friend of mine; they both used to live in London. I thought how strange it was to see one here until, embarrassed at my own bend of time and place, I realized with a jerk that he was the only one of us that didn't need a visa.
You see, you'd never think you were in Africa at Cybele (pronounced Sigh BEE lee). In fact you'd never think you were anywhere but at home. That is if your home is comfy cozy with spreading lawns, luscious flowers (the head gardener's name is Ivy, of course), and chintz-slippered sofas. Even better, the place is brimming with smart English and South African gals who welcome you like a familiar houseguest who's just returned from the village with the day's papers. It took me until cocktails to discover that the perky, tee-shirted treasure was Barbara Jeffries who with her husband, Rupert, owns, lives in, and manages Cybele, and that gent helping to bail out the fish pond, was a London G.P. on his second visit in as many years.
I tried reading by the swimming pool and ended up counting butterflies. Open-faced sandwiches under a huge Jacaranda tree were accompanied by that kind of local white wine that you can never find at home. Was it the company, the charm of the serving girls, the ease of the house party atmosphere? I don't know but I was instantly relaxed and very pleased simply to be here.
I'd come 8000 miles to be in what feels almost exactly like an English country cottage filled with charming people. It is different though. When you focus in on anything, just for a moment, you know at once this is a little unlike anywhere else.
The blades of the lawn are just that little bit different, the rolling green isn't Rhododendron but coffee, the thatch on the cottages is cut just a mite strangely, and the staff are that much more gracious and friendly. And while the rooms are filled with charming antiques and lots of English chintz, there's always a subtle nod to the sub-equatorial setting even if it's just the unidentifiable firewood in the big basket next to the hearth. At 3,000 feet, it's cool enough to be able to wear a jacket to dinner in mid-summer and come home to a welcome fire in your room.
Twenty-four guests are the full complement and the compliment is yours when you discover how utterly comfortable are the accommodations. There is a variety of studios (I was in no. 3), suites (the "Private Garden Suite", No. 6, is tops for two), cottages, and two completely separate houses, Paddock Suites 10 and 11. Many have their own swimming pool and each has efficient modern bathrooms, delightfully designed decors, very comfortable beds, and a private verandah.
For the first time in weeks, I was so comfortable and at home, I hadn't given a thought to dinner. I'd been invited to cocktails along with my new friends, John and Sonia from London, and would have been perfectly happy dining on anecdotes, experiences, and just desserts. But after a starter of what I can only describe as a Bloody Mary in a soup bowl, I was presented with a phyllo pastry strudel filled with fresh vegetables and mozzarella served with hollandaise! I was so surprised and delighted, I didn't even notice the almighty downpour that had arrived uninvited. I shared my bottle of Allesverloren Tinta Barocca with John and Sonia who had kindly asked me to share their table, and just as Sonia was describing another of Barbara's starters that they had had on their last visit—locally smoked trout, wrapped in spinach and baked—our main course of leg of lamb, casseroled in red wine and fresh rosemary, arrived to two double thunderclaps. There were claps all around as the chocolate roulade filled with fresh peaches and cream arrived—heaven. We retired to the little bar to fetch a ten-year-old, South African cognac and colonialised in squishy sofas and chairs in front of the fire.
Greg showed up at ten the next morning. John and Sonia were off to Sun City "to play golf" (its also has the wildest casino outside of Las Vegas); another couple were off to try their hand at catching rainbow trout from the river that is stocked for the sole use of Cybele's guests; two others were off to the paddock to pick their mounts for a day's riding in the low veld; and two were off for a day in the Kruger National Park. There are other fascinating day trips to the Blyde River Canyon and nearby Pilgrims Rest. If there'd been more time, this pilgrim would simply have done the latter and watched Ivy adorn the walls.
No number of miles is too far to come to experience this level of relaxed comfort, delicious cuisine and caring hospitality. You'll love it.
All the best,
Uncle Ted
Winner: Edward Carter’s Travels Award 1989
Winner: Top Country Inn 2007
Winner: 2008 Diners Club International Wine List Award
Member: Relais et Châteaux
Website
©Copyright Edward Carter’s Travels 2009
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
DID YOU FIND THIS FREE ARTICLE INTERESTING AND/OR VALUABLE? Please note: The email address in the box below does not always seem to work. A better one to use is eglcarter@yahoo.com
Please email me your travel tales, "postcards," and questions. I'll publish the most interesting, appropriate or outrageous in Correspondence - All the best, Ted (short for Edward)
|
|
| copyright © 2006, EDWARD CARTER |