We loaded up the Kia Sportage with bags, cooler boxes, and excited kids. You could cut the sense of anticipation for the journey ahead with a blunt butter knife. The open road, the unknown adventures that lay ahead, all of it was thrilling.
We set off from home, the thrum of the Sportage’s engine a steady companion as we made our way toward Bonnievale Farm. The kids bickered and laughed in the backseat while my wife and I swapped stories of past travels. We travel a lot, so this took some time.
As we turned off the main road and onto the dirt track leading to the farm, the scenery around us changed from suburban sprawl to rolling hills, thick with trees. We arrived at the farm, and the boys were out of the car before we even had a chance to turn off the engine.
Barely any time had passed before we were all submerged, a watery respite from a scorching Cape summer. What followed was the obligatory braai, the smell of sizzling meat and the sound of the fire crackling – the perfect soundtrack to our evening. We sat around the fire, drinking wine and whatever the hell we gave the kids, chatting as the stars came out overhead.
As the night grew late, our tunmies were filled and the fire died down, we retired to our home for the next two nights, a charming cottage equipped with all the essentials including Netflix. Hey. It’s 2022 and so we obliged, drifting off to whatever shows caught our interest. It didn’t take long.