Desperately in need of some peace, quiet and fresh air, I decided to challenge this notion on a recent trip to the Transkei to see my sister, brother-in-law and two young nieces (who live there), together with my ageing parents who had flown in from the cold corners of Canada the week before.

It remained to be seen if my mission to mix familial obligations with personal time, would be, well, a mission.

With the privilege of a 40-minute helicopter ride from the East London's dinky airport (a favour from a friend of my sister's); I was whisked up the Wild Coast to where I was welcomed by my family at The Haven Hotel, a relaxation-inducing resort located at the mouth of the Mbashe River.

View of The Haven from the chopper. Photo: Andrew Cole

Set by the Indian Ocean about 55 kilometres from Elliottdale, the property includes 38 spacious en-suite chalets that are ideally suited to families and couples who want to enjoy a basic, away-from-it-all break.

Ordinarily a two-hour drive from Umthatha, the place is run by Grant Millar and Nicola Cole, the self-styled Faulty Towers hoteliers of the former Transkei (the difference being, they have two young children.)

So there we were; the seven of us for a week together.

The most senior members of the family contingent included my father, an active 78-year-old retired surgeon, who spent much of his time taking nature photos, napping whenever he could and wolfing down the three square meals on offer each day; and my mother, a 61-year-old nature lover and the sweetest disciplinarian you've ever met.

Together, my parents are best when they're birding (a ‘sport' I'm still trying to get my head around).

My parents the intrepid birders. Photo: Andrew Cole

As an outdoor pursuit, it works well for the two of them given that my father is an enthusiastic photo buff who unapologetically lugs around a Sherpa-worthy array of equipment (including some obscenely long lenses) and my mother's impressive powers of observation (for example, detecting alcohol on my breathe from blocks away during my teenage years).

During the day, the adults would enjoy an afternoon nap and reading in the shade.

At night, we marvelled at the fat moon and sucked in the fresh sea breeze while reclining with a drink, transfixed by the nearby lighthouse.

There were, of course, children to attend to, and my mother being one of the more spritely grandmothers I know, played with the kids to the point she injured her back and I had the task of placing her in some makeshift traction.

Mom loves to birdwatch. Photo: Andrew Cole

Ordinarily a cornerstone of the family - not to mention a great babysitter - her absence was sorely felt by all of us, especially as my sister and brother-in-law were busy preparing for (and attending to) a group from the Department of Agriculture.

Close to celebrating their fortieth anniversary, with so many years together, time apart is also a valuable commodity for my parents.

As a result, now that my mother was out-of-commission, it was suggested that some father and I go on a few adventures together. While I am a fan of a good hike and family bonding, it can be a bit often be an uncomfortable experience for a couple of reasons.

First, with a rather Victorianesque view of the world, my father appears to be rather concerned that his youngest son (me) remains unmarried.

Inevitably, I am subjected to a lecture on the importance of considering the ‘five Cs' in a potential life partner.

It's a bit like investing in a diamond, I suppose. (I'll leave it to the reader as to what the five criteria may be.)

An early morning photo outing. Photo: Andrew Cole

Second, as a budding photographer myself (although with much smaller selection of less advanced camera equipment), it was suggest that we do a few nature outings together. This entailed everything from bushwhacking in the full heat of the day to a waterfall on the Mbanyani River listening for elusive Knysna Loeries barking at one another in the canopy above, to early morning trips to try and spot the resident Fish Eagle.

More often than not, my father traipsed around with a camera lens the size of a bazooka and a tripod in tow. Unable to control myself, I ended up ridiculing him for lugging around enough equipment to support a National Geographic shoot; to which point he got so upset he wouldn't speak to me.

So much for father-son bonding.

That being said, we did enjoy some boogey boarding at Breezy Point and too many oysters to count; something that my have been a factor in some debilitating diarrhoea for the last two days of my trip.

But as we drove to the Umthatha airport together on the final day of our family vacation, I flicked through my collection of digital pictures and posed a question that every son inevitably fears asking: "Am I becoming my father?"