Much like the residents of Pisa in Italy, the good folk of Kimberly in South Africa have decided that there should be absolutely no room for interpretation in the naming of their tourist attractions. And it was with this guidance that we headed out to see The Big Hole. 

We were not disappointed with the centerpiece of this town even before learning that, astonishingly, this crater had been dug by hand in the search for diamonds. There is a twee Disneyland-type village around the Big Hole that attempts to recreate the town life and trading posts that would have previously existed, though thankfully without the carefree visitor having to experience what were no doubt the horrific working conditions of pioneer open pit mining. This hole and this town has played a pretty significant role in South Africa’s recent history and whatever your views may be on the cast of characters who made their fortunes here during the diamond rush of the late 19th Century, there is no doubt that this relatively small part of the country played a disproportionately big role in its future.

Kimberley represented the final stop on our cross-country transition before heading into the peaceful serenity of South Africa’s newest national park; Mokala. The keen followers of this blog will both be aware of the camping challenges we faced during our time in the Wildcoast, and so it was with much relief that Mokala made life about as easy as possible for us on this front. The wind was non-existent, the daytime skies were cloudless and the nighttime skies were spectacular; this was camping but not as we knew it. Had we conjured up ideas of how this trip would play out, then this is about as close as we’ve got to it so far. Don’t be fooled though. Anyone with a troupe of similar aged children might be reassured to know that despite the overwhelmingly pleasant setting in which we found ourselves, we were still being run ragged by these delightful little cherubs. We have now learnt that it can be particularly tricky keeping everyone entertained in the bush and despite exhausting every storybook, playing out every possible sequence of snakes & ladders, and having seemingly spotted every single animal in the park, it was the value of a gin and tonic that really became apparent during this stay.  

Thankfully though, the long uneventful roads of the Northern Cape sent everyone into a deep midday slumber today which gave us some time to consolidate our position and align strategies for the next leg. Before they all woke up again.

Travelling with small children does sometimes feel a bit like spinning plates, and we were served a lesson this week on how a couple of minor oversights can quickly snowball into some broken crockery.

We had made an early arrival at the highly impressive Ithala game reserve and all parties were thoroughly enjoying the fine weather and the pleasant swimming pool in the central camp. We should have probably called it day at that point but in what turned out to be quite a suboptimal idea, we decided to head out for an evening game drive and in doing so, push back the regular supper time and bed time. It all started out very well but as the road became far less appropriate for our chosen vehicle, progress became excruciatingly slow and as one child cried from a missed sleep another cried from a missed lunch. Not wanting to be outdone, the third then chipped in by projectile vomiting over the passenger airbag, twice. The chorus of wailing and general panic was not exactly in-keeping with the serenity of the park and as the sun was setting over this beautiful reserve, we couldn’t help but reflect on just how well things had panned out. 

After regrouping and a thorough cleaning operation we departed Ithala the following day, though our woes were not yet behind us. We have typically tried to limit any travel day to no more than three hours; anything beyond this, then all occupants become progressively unsettled and the whole situation becomes progressively less bearable. The eight rainy hours of weaving through some fairly cavernous potholes wasn’t exactly conducive to happy driving and although we didn’t quite reach breaking point during these eight hours, we weren’t far off. The pressure test was adequately rewarded though as we settled into the aesthetically and culinarily pleasing surrounds of Clarens.

Clarens is a cracking little place close to the Lesotho border and Golden Gate Highlands Park, and although the grandeur of the park can’t be denied, for us this has been outshone by the substantial punch packed by this little mountain town. The excellent network of trails in the hills above Clarens have kept us very busy; either with the full entourage in tow or lightweight and at pace (or at least what little pace we can muster up these days).

Given what an enjoyable stay this has been and what we endured to get here, everyone seems a little gun shy about getting back in the car.