Camping and sand dunes and saving a life
25th September, 2007
Dear Jeremy,
Last week, when you phoned, you told of the happy motor-bike camping weekend you spent with your friends, Greg and Bryan. Your enthusiasm and enjoyment reminded me that camping was always a part of our lives.
We spent much time as children going to the beach and we enjoyed swimming in the waves and the pools in the rocks. After Uncle Leighton sold his beach shack at Leach's Bay he acquired an old caravan. It was nothing like the caravans of today and I only remember bunks and cupboards. It was rather dark and pokey.
Every Christmas holiday he towed the caravan to the Omlele River beyond Kidd's Beach to a campsite on a farm. There we set up camp with a homemade tent attached to the caravan for living and sleeping. Cooking was done outside on an open fire. My Father erected a tent for us - it was a large bell tent around which he dug a trench so the rain would not wash us out.
We walked down a sandy path to the Omlele River where we had a little rowing boat moored. Pearl and I had wonderful times rowing up the river to our 'Garden of Eden' where agapanthus and maiden hair fern grew. We were both good swimmers so were free to roam on our own. I had one scary experience when a friend who had come to visit lost her footing and slipped into the deep water. I tried to help her but she kept pushing me down. Gasping for breath I gave her one almighty push on to the shore and with huge relief felt the stones under my feet.
There was a path which led down to the mouth of the river and to the sea. I don't think we ever swam in the sea on our own but we did roam the seashore alone. Our fathers would go fishing on the rocks and often we would take them flasks of tea and sandwiches for their lunch. There was no one else anywhere and the beach belonged to us. Sometimes the shore would be littered with seaweed and kelp and we would wrap it round ourselves like clothes and dance up and down joyfully in the little waves glinting in the sunshine on the edge of the shore.
There were also high dunes which we climbed and where we made ourselves little houses in the sea bush. Running and sliding down the dunes was an exhilarating game.
I remember one moonlight night our mothers took us to walk on the beach. On the way back to camp we took off our shorts and shirts and swam in the river. It was one of those warm barmy nights.
Higher up the river were rock pools with fresh water. When clothes needed washing we would walk down the bank and declare it wash and bath day and with relief we would wash the salt out of our hair.
When people came to visit they brought us loaves of bread and the newspapers. Our mothers were good at making 'askoeks' (scones) which they cooked on a griddle over the open fire. Milk was brought to us every morning from the farm - fresh, full cream and unpasteurised. Those were wonderfully, happy, free days.
Another happy memory was when we children went to Kidds beach to see a cinema in a tent, cousin Clarence drove the car.
One Easter it rained so heavily that all the rivers on the way home were in flood and we could not cross the causeways - there were no bridges. Our fathers decided we had to go inland towards Kingwilliamstown. However there was still a causeway to ford and when we got half way the engine flooded and there we were sitting in the middle of the river with water swirling round us. I was in Uncle Leighton's car with Pearl. Luckily my Father's car got through and he was able to tow us out.
Early one morning cousin Clarence woke me before sunrise to go and look for buck. I still remember so clearly the stillness of the early dawn as we crouched down and waited and a small duiker (deer) came into view. We held our breaths as we watched him having his breakfast.
We camped many times in this idyllic place and it remains in my mind's eye as a beautiful, peaceful haven. I suppose like many other places along the coast the Omlele has now been developed as a holiday resort. Omlele means sleeping and everyone was very relaxed when camping there. We would say we had 'Omlele Fever'.
Another place along the coast where we camped was by the Negca River. Pearl and I were a little older then but the times we spent together were just as happy on the river and freely roaming the beach. There was a rumour that there was buried treasure in the vicinity and my Father was intrigued by some markings on the rocks where he fished. We stamped around on the shore listening hopefully for a hollow sound which might indicate where the treasure was buried. We never found the treasure.
It was January 1939. The little Citroen had given up the ghost and my Mother buried it in the garden. This was replaced by a large car called an Essex which was followed by a Chevrolet car which was very grand with glass windows which wound up and down. My parents decided to take us on a trip to see the Cango Caves. This was also to be a treat for Iverna as it was her 21st birthday on the 12th. We camped along the way. In those days you could pull off the road at any suitable place and set up camp. My Father had made hammocks for the grown-ups to sleep in so we had to find trees to which they could be attached. We children must have slept on the ground or in the car.
The Chevrolet must have been well-packed as there was no boot but a carrier on the back to which cases and boxes were strapped. When we did not know where to put something the cry would go up -'Put it under Mummie's legs'.
There was a camping place by a river near Oudtshoorn. We swam there with other campers.
We were so excited about exploring the caves and were quite overwhelmed by the huge cavern as we walked down into the depths. We were taken round by a guide to look at the stalactites and stalagmites which were lit up. My Father bravely climbed 'the chimney' - not long ago someone got stuck in that chimney.
On the way home we camped at Port Alfred beside the Kowie River at Little Beach where the tide came in and out and never got out of a child's depth. Daddy told us stories of when his parents lived there. His father dived out of the top window of the mill house to save a child from drowning. Grandpa also belonged to the Life Boat Crew and he told us how they rowed out to rescue the crew and the dog from a ship wrecked on the rocks off shore. The storm was so strong they could not get back into the river so rowed all night round to East London. They were all given medals by Queen Victoria.
We visited an aunt who had made a cosy home in an upturned boat. We were intrigued and fascinated as all the decorations were from old boats. Dad's cousin, Mannie Samuels, took us in his boat up the river to see the ruins of an old mill where Grandpa also used to work. I thought of him having to row his boat all the way up the river as there were no engines in those days.