Raw, honest travel blog.
I grew up in the berg. I found my feet, stumbling on hiking trails. I found my voice, competing with the screaming thunder that would role in with the night. I found my sight, atop mountains — overlooking valleys of rolling hills and running rivers. I found my strength, pulling myself up cliff faces. I discovered my love for water, leaping off rocks and river banks into crystal-clear streams.
I lived out my best childhood in the berg — with collective soccer, or walks, or cycling with fellow children who were holidaying at the campsite. After a long day out in the sun – catching an even golden brown tan- with the perfect cool breeze, my parents would close the night with hot chocolate, wrapping my brother and me up in blankets. While snuggled up on camping chairs, under unbelievably clear starry skies, my father would tell us stories about his favourite berg memories or more popularly told stories about my brother and me when we were younger. He would read us scary stories by Roald Dahl, or giggle-worthy adventures of Winnie the Pooh. When it was dark and cold, and my brother and I decided to call it a night, we would huddle in our tent — sheltered by the intensifying wind and rain and thunder. It magically played out this way every berg visit, everyday. Gorgeous sunny days, and dark, thunder-filled nights.
I grew up in the Drakensberg. My first memories in the berg began when I was a toddler, and my last memory of the berg was a few months ago.
As I got older, my berg visits started to change. They were less about soccer with strangers and swimming in natural pools, and more about finding new, harder, longer trails to hike.
My favourite meals in the berg have been consistent since I was a toddler to my last visit, at twenty years old. Breakfast of fried toast made on a scottle and chip sandwiches for the hike. Camembert and crackers as our reward for arriving at the end point of our hike and dinner potjies. And, of course, water, water, water!
Magically, the whole family spent everyday — however long we made these trips — laughing and joking, including each other in all the fun. Friendships were rekindled between my father, mother, brother and myself- escaping the stress of routine, busy lives, office days and school.
When we eventually got home, we — a movie-addicted family — would leave the T.V untouched for about two weeks before we even noticed we had been neglecting it.
I am a huge family-fanatic. It is moments of together-ness that I applaud and crave over anything else, so to me, the berg is the most magical place there is and will ever be. It is sun-filled, and bright, and natural, and beautiful. It is happy, and unifying, and lovely.
In the Drakensberg, I Am Home.