Tag Archives: trails

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: The Bike and the Buck

Sneaking up to a buck on a bicycle shouldn’t be this easy.

An example of a reedbuck common to the region. PHOTO WIKIPEDIA

 

May 10, 2025

It was very loud and quite startling. I was alone on a bike and quite near the edge of the gorge. I had come to find a few vultures but the thermals weren’t playing ball so early yet and I didn’t want to linger, just explore a bit. I like taking detours every now and then and I know the neighbours don’t mind too much if I leave only bike tracks behind.

I had just flicked off a tick trying to crawl up my leg because the grass can be wild here. Sometimes, when you explore, you have to bundu bash a bit. I don’t like cycling on grass that isn’t actually a dirt road, but there isn’t always a choice if you’re going off the beaten track.

The main reason I like to see dirt under the tyres is for visibility. Bike wheels aren’t very high if it’s a mamba you’re meeting all of a sudden. I only imagine this, of course, because I haven’t had that terrifying experience yet and hope never to find out how fast I can ride if one ever sticks its head up out of the grass in front of me!

Anyway, this sound I heard almost made me fall off my bike. I happened to be cycling up a grassy sugar cane contour and making hardly any noise. The large reedbuck in front of me hadn’t noticed me yet. It was casually walking up the same contour in front of me and I think if I was a hunter, it would have been dead already.

I got to about 10m from it. Suddenly, it realized I was coming. Just then, I was concentrating on seeing how fast I could go towards it, so hearing a very loud shriek was an absolute shock. I thought the buck was also scared, as it had bounded further ahead. Then, I heard it again as the buck looked at me, screamed, and started running again.

Did you know that reedbucks make that high-pitched whistling, shrieking sound? I do now. I feel quite bad for sneaking up on it, but I guess both of us benefited from a little adrenaline rush to keep us on our toes. Hopefully, it’ll be wiser now so that I can see it again sometime.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Well-watered Gardens Don’t Wither

“The boys are growing faster than the trees, but nothing is ever stagnant in this life.”

Farm boy at his waterfall in Oribi Gorge.

September 26, 2024

It’s been a bit of a dry season for us these last few months. While dry, almost hot weather is excellent for my outdoor exercise routine, it’s less desirable for my little macadamia trees, garden, and precious scarp forest.

The birds have been coming daily to ask for more water in the bird bath. The weavers, toppies, and drongos like to splash around in it, chasing any intruders away from their bath time. They cause quite a ruckus sometimes.

The bees have also been manic at the hottest part of the day. For a few weeks, I’ve had to close up the windows at noon to avoid a whole lot of desperate bees buzzing into the lounge or office.

A Not-So-Dry Adventure With Oribi Dad

The boys went down the trail with their cousins (and Dad) to see the waterfall last week. It’s still trickling, but you can now sit under the roots and in the cave behind the waterfall. You don’t even see those when the water levels are higher.

On the way, my seven-year-old had his first brush with a “wag ‘n bietjie” bush. The thorns caught him on the back, and he couldn’t escape until the adults carefully unhooked each barb, trying not to tear his jersey to shreds in the process. They’re nasty thorns when they take over these spaces.

Luckily, that huge storm we had a while back cleared a lot of debris and the annoying weeds from the streambed for us. The wind also relieved us of three smaller garden trees and some huge branches off the bigger ones. We didn’t lose macadamias, but some of that cane up the road is still lying on its side a few months later.

One waterfall jaunt at lunchtime involved skirting around hundreds of bees gathered at a rock pool. I wasn’t on that walk, but I got the lowdown from wide-eyed children who seemed to have grasped the potential danger of disturbing the drinking bees.

All of our children have been stung by bees, wasps, and hornets in their early years, and so far, it’s been okay. I was still glad to hear that they made a wide pass around the stinging honey producers, wisely heeding their father’s warning to leave the thirsty hive alone.

It’s Almost Time For Spring in Oribi Gorge Again

Once-a-week watering is all I could justify for my baby trees in this dry period. They seem to have come through the winter. Hopefully, spring shows up with lots of rain to take over.

The boys are growing faster than the trees, but nothing is ever stagnant in this life.

We only have to do what each day demands, whether that’s closing windows at lunchtime to save disoriented bees from getting trapped or learning how to identify and avoid thorny situations.

Published here.

Oribi Mom

Oribi Mom: Hearing the Roar of the Waterfall

Apparently there is some special limestone-evolved skink here that researchers are trying to pin down.

The beautiful waterfall. PHOTO BY: HEATHER LIND

June 25, 2023

It’s quite a struggle leaving home in the dark. Winter school runs require some otherworldly resolve to crawl out from under the covers. You must will yourself to get the small children dressed, fed, and half-decent for the day.

It’s also ridiculous how much colder we are in Oribi Gorge and Paddock than in town. Oribi Dad often leaves home in the dark with a fleece top and beanie and returns an hour later with a T-shirt and sunglasses. Why bother?

This weather is confusing, too. One minute it’s so dry we’re irrigating the baby macadamia trees and the next there’s giant thunderstorms ripping through our echoing gorge. They strike Eskom poles to leave the whole place off the grid, and not in that idealistic sort of way.

The Waterfall Roars After a Good Storm in Oribi Gorge

The waterfall below our house really pounds after that rain as the water drains from all the surrounding slopes and gathers in the streambed. It roars, much louder than the cane trucks. It’s louder than the UGU bus putting its accelerator flat on the floor to try and get up our winding gorge road without stalling. The waterfall is even louder than the tractors sometimes, and those whizz right past the house.

You can get to the bottom of the waterfall with some careful balancing and boulder-hopping off the rough trail. And once you do, it’s hard to describe the transformation. The cane, macadamias, and tea tree are far above you. The sounds stop, except for the birds. The bright sunlight doesn’t even make it down there into the moss-covered rocks and twisty skyscraper trees.

Down Into a Magical World Out of Sound and Time

I imagine that’s how Middle Earth’s elven forests must have been in the mind of its maker. It’s like you’ve stepped into a world of fantasy. But you still have to look out for the area’s rather impressive selection of dangerous creatures.

Even grumpy bushbuck aren’t the safest, though seeing them gracefully walking down the narrow bush trails is still spectacular. Apparently there is some special limestone-evolved skink here that researchers are trying to pin down. I’m yet to find it. But there’s still time.

Maybe the dark, cold winter mornings aren’t the most enjoyable part of family life on the farm. But the beauty and diversity of this place makes up for it in a big way. And the aloes, now those are always a great reason to look forward to June on the South Coast, aren’t they?

Published here.