By Selene Brophy
May 20th, 2008
It's not very often you find yourself with a stretch of beach, deserted as far as the eye can see. This is the exact luxury Plett offered us during a recent long weekend escape.
We'd been planning our break for a few weeks, and as any couple knows, dotting and crossing the details of holiday bookings can be justification for the break itself.
Hitting the N2 at dawn, 6.30am to be exact, soon had us forgetting the fuss and enjoying the anticipation.
Did we pack my pillow?
The odd checklist question still popped into my head as we hit Sir Lowrys Pass, where we lost the frequency to our favourite radio station. But a backup playlist of Keane, Freshly Ground, U2 and Lenny Kravitz soon synchronised itself to our scenic Garden Route drive.
I was happy to be Kimi Raikkonen for a bit as my partner Grant (a.k.a Juan Pablo Montoya) assumed courtesy duty by flashing the hazard lights to obliging drivers. Pit stops and padkos aside, and a mere five hours found us crossing the Outeniqua Mountain in George.
Mountain memories
Holidays are the stuff memories are made of. They have a funny way of evoking distant memories you had long since forgotten. And every now and then, while you're busy getting on with your holiday, you may pause to consider how that specific moment will play out in your mind long after your holiday tan has faded.
Click here to view the captured moments.
The lushness of the George, Knysna and Plettenberg Bay stretch of the Garden Route accompanied by the overwhelming smell of Boegoe brought to life my earlier childhood road trips along the very same route. The fun and games, not forgetting fights, shared with my brother on the backseat. I couldn't help but grin to myself.
The ease of travelling from town to town surprised me too. But then again most things seem more complicated when you're a kid. You'd really have to have sub-zero navigational skills to get lost here, guess that's why GPS was invented.
Early afternoon saw us pulling in at our self-catering accommodation at The Dunes, just 10 minutes outside of holiday hotspot Plett.
Secluded sanctuary
This was exactly what we needed. A white-washed haven, far from the maddening crowd; it's seriously well-equipped for any ill-prepared self-caterer who simply wants to enjoy the simple pleasures of life - Good food and wine, sumptuous natural surroundings and great company. Laying your head down on your preferred pillow, well that's another story.
A short walk from the holiday village, over the dunes, brings you to the area's sweet spot. Grant wondered how private it would actually be. Not a soul as far as the eye could see, well at least for the first hour we spent down there.
We traced our footprints across the matt shoreline, scribbled our names in the sand and enjoyed the beauty of nature.
There was some solitary shell picking and reflection. Unfortunately the current didn't seem as inviting as the water.
We plonked ourselves down on a log to watch the high-tide waves; it felt sublime to just be.
Holiday glow
On our way back to the villa we found a family quartet prepping a magnificent specimen of a bonfire. We're not sure about permits etc but the barrier of driftwood along the shore seemed to be such great memory-making material.
I winked with delight at the two kids as they watched their industrious dad.
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