2010 South Africa – River Breede
For a couple of days’ break, I went to a house by the River Breede that David and Laura had recommended to me. It was about two and a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Betty’s Bay and in the middle of a large vineyard. Only five metres from my bedroom window were countless rows of grape vines, and the house was surrounded by mountains. There were two bedrooms, a huge kitchen/dining/living room and a wooden veranda extending across the whole width of the house. It even had a Jacuzzi built into the veranda. In front of the house was a short patch of grass which led to the river. They advertised the property as “the best bass fishing spot in the world”, so I had high hopes of catching bucketloads of fish.
There was a large barbecue at one end of the veranda and an open fireplace in the living room, both were already made up for a fire with plenty of spare logs if needed. Being the middle of summer, I wasn’t expecting to use the log fires, but it did get quite cool at night, so I lit the one on the veranda and looked over the moonlit river and relaxed. The place was fantastic, but I felt sad that Federika wasn’t there as I knew she would have loved it.
After a quick inspection of the river, I discovered it was only about 200 metres long, so it was more of a pond than a river. In the winter, it was twice as wide and flowed quickly to the sea, but in the summer, it dried out. One entry in the guest book said they were concerned that the river was getting too close to the house. The only place I could fish from was directly outside the house because elsewhere it was overgrown with trees and bushes. The house did have a little boat, so I rowed up and down the river a couple of times, but didn’t catch anything. I was beginning to doubt whether it ever did have any fish, as it seemed so shallow, but in the guest book, someone said they did catch a lot of fish. I doubted that it was genuine, as there were other entries around the same time saying how disappointing the fishing was. Later that day, I did catch one small bass that I cooked for dinner, but it didn’t taste great. I don’t know why they call them bass because they don’t look or taste anything like sea bass. I also caught a small catfish and was intending to cook it, but I read on the internet that they need to be skinned and that there was a small poisonous bit somewhere, so I really couldn’t be bothered and threw it back. 
That night as I lay in bed, it took a while to get accustomed to the strange noises, which varied from wild animals in the distance to tapping on the roof, mixed with the odd bang here and there. The metal roof was expanding and contracting, making ghostly sounds, but the only ghosts that ever bothered me were the ones that kept stealing my socks.
The next night, David, Laura and Boris arrived to spend their day off with me. It was great to spend some time together away from the Café and to see them relaxing. For lunch, we went to a restaurant at the top of a small mountain pass. It was in the middle of nowhere, so I was surprised they managed to get enough business in the summer, let alone the winter. To make matters worse, they had a sign at the entrance saying “Please do not touch the brown dog.” Even people who were not scared of dogs would be concerned about going into a restaurant, which, by the manager’s own admission, had a dangerous dog on the premises. The meal was just about ok, and we never did get to meet the dog.
Back at the house, David and I fished for a while, and although neither of us caught anything, it was very pleasant sitting on the grass with a glass of white wine, chatting about old times. 
It was 50 years since we last fished together, and we never caught anything then either. Their day off passed all too quickly, and they left early evening to get back to the cafe rather than have to get up at 4 a.m. the following morning.
2010 South Africa
