Sweet Mountain Retreat

We spent part of last week at the Inkosana Lodge in the central Drakensberg range, and can officially say it was the nicest place we've paid to stay at any point on this trip. Composed of one airy, low-roofed but high-ceilinged main building, and a series of thatched-roof huts all set within a multi-level yard and garden area, almost every window, path, and seating area at the lodge had views of the tufted green mountains a short distance away. Our hut had autumnal batik curtains with elephat motifs, and a traveler-suited design in addition to the fine aesthetics, with lots of tucked-away shelf space and a wooden clothes rack. (More and more, we are finding that things like having lots of hooks, a large sink for hand-washing, and good knives in the kitchen make the big difference between feeling thrilled or frustrated by the places we stay.) The kitchen at Inkosana also definitively topped our "best" list, with castiron kettles and ant-free brown sugar available for use. And in addition, there was the pool, a spring-fed, cast-cement version of a fancy suburban infinity pool, where we could soak in the cool and the view.

We had three main activities during our time at Inkosana: hiking, lounging, and eating. In the former category, we started out, the afternoon of our arrival, with just a walk along the roads near the lodge, which contained the delicious finger-staining surprise of a whole row of blackberry bushes laden with a first crop of ripe berries. Erik braved the brambles to pick them, while I supportively held out the bag to fill and tried not to eat them as soon as they came off the branch. The following day we just got our legs a little warmer, hiking in the morning from a meadow, down through a damp and (to me) claustrophobic forest, to a waterfall. The highlight of the hike was coming upon a troop of baboons, who sent out a couple of guards to bark angrily at us while the rest of the group ran away. The best hike, though, came the next day. We set out on a cloudy morning with a friendly, interesting Canadian couple we'd met at breakfast and headed up through forest into a long, gently climbing stretch of meadow (where Erik got in touch with his Swiss roots by attempting a little yodeling, with some measure of success). Once we reached the end of that trail, at the point where a final peak ascent would start, we turned and began to traverse the grassy ridgeline. On our way to the shallow pool that was our goal and picnic spot, we spotted a white-tailed antelope and watched as lightning flashed and crackled on other parts of the mountains, bringing with it thunder that lasted for a Beethoven-length timpani roll. When we reached the pool, the sun was bright and hot, although the wind tormening the grasses suggested another storm ahead. As we headed back along the ridge, that storm hit, bringing not just thunder and lightning (not too close) but also hail, which we waited out under some trees. The storm subsided for the rest of our descent-- then, just as we reached the parking lot, opened up full force, pouring down sheets of rain that continued for a couple hours. But by that point, we were back at the lodge, luxuriating in the comfort of a good day of activity. We did one more hike the next day, going back up to the end of the trail but skipping the ridge walk this time, and rounded out our time with another blackberry picking mission before going back to our regular backpacker life on the bus.

But what of those other two categories, lounging and eating? A joy in their own right, the hikes also provided pleasant justification for those activities. The windowledge in our little hut made a perfect table for afternoon tea and cookies (a habit I am completely ready to take up when we get home!) Ed, the owner of Inkosana, made wonderful hard, biscotti-like cookies called rusks which were perfectly suited for tea-dipping, and which I now have the recipe for (although I may need to find a way to modify the pound of butter called for in the original...). We would sit in our room reading and drinking tea, as afternoon thunderstorms invariably pounded and danced outside. The showers were walled but open-roofed; as the cold water of the rain mixed with the hot water of the faucet, we could watch the lightning touching down on the hills and illuminating the sky. Most nights the rain would quiet before dinner, allowing us to get to the main lodge or the kitchen unsoaked. Along with being a baker, Ed was an excellent cook, preparing huge, heavy dinners for many guests each night. We enjoyed eating his food once, but also enjoyed the opportunity it gave us to splurge on more gourmet groceries than we usually get-- since the only choices were Ed's restaurant (pricey, for us) or groceries, spending a little more than usual still meant spending less than the alternative. So we grilled (or braied, in South African) steak, lunched on smoked salmon, and ate strawberries and peaches with fresh cream so thick it needed to be scooped with a spoon. We were completely spoiled for four days, and enjoyed every moment of it.