• Where to stay: The upmarket Nest Hotel is the best place to stay in Lüderitz, with comfortable rooms and modern facilities. The Bayview Hotel in the centre of town is more low-key, or you can choose from a range of B&Bs.
• Where to eat: The Nest Hotel's Penguin Restaurant is a good, but pricey, option, while Ritzi's Seafood Restaurant on the waterfront has the best views. The Diaz Coffee Shop is perfect for a lunchtime toasted sarmie or afternoon tea and cake.
• Sightseeing: Lüderitz Safaris and Tours in Bismarck Street is your best bet for airport transfers, tours and information on activities. Call 0264 63 202 719 to find out more.
• Don't miss: A sailing trip to Halifax Island is a wonderful way to see the desert from a distance. Günther Berens' 'Sturmvogel' is ideal for small groups, or join a scheduled sailing on the historic schooner 'Sedina'.
• Flights: Air Namibia flies daily from Cape Town and Johannesburg to Windhoek, with connections to Lüderitz. There are also direct flights from Cape Town to Lüderitz six times per week. Visit www.airnamibia.com.na or call 011 978 5055.
• Web: Go to www.namibiatourism.com.na or call the Namibia Tourism Board on 011 785 4626.

• South African Airways flies direct to Hong Kong from Johannesburg.
• The Hong Kong Tourism Board has an excellent website to help you plan your trip. Go to www.discoverhongkong.com.
• South African passport-holders do not require a visa for visits less than 30 days.
• The Hong Kong Dollar (HKD) is roughly equal to the South African Rand.

'We call this the “Hippo Highway,’ laughs my guide Basha, standing at the wheel of our flat-bottomed speedboat. ‘We sign a contract with them. We can use it during the day and they only come down at night!’ he chortles.

The highway he is referring to is one of the deep channels carved through the reed beds of the Okavango Delta by the notoriously grumpy herbivores. Spending their days in the deep lily-covered pools they emerge at night to graze, and heaven help anyone who gets in their way.
Speedboat safaris are the easy way to explore the filigreed channels of the Okavango, but for a true Delta experience you need to take courage in both hands and lower yourself into a decidedly wobbly mokoro.

Unique to the Delta, these traditional dugout canoes were once carved from single tree-trunks, but are today (thankfully!) made of rather sturdier fibreglass. A comforting thought as you peer through crystal clear water to the sandy bottom of the channel worn smooth by a two-ton hippo!
However, once you’ve settled into the rhythm of the river you’ll start to relax. Don’t forget to listen out for the telltale splash of Red Lechwe escaping through the channels or a bark from the shy Sitatunga.

‘Keep an eye out for Painted Reed Frogs,’ calls Basha, poling us gently from the back of the mokoro. ‘The trick is too look near the top of the stem.’
Hidden amongst the rustling reeds, Painted Reed Frogs are the chameleons of the Delta. Glistening with a hundred colours when the sun catches their glistening back, they magically disappear into the background the moment you look away.

All the better to avoid the keen eye of the Kingfishers, I guess, which flutter above the water hoping for an unwary African Pike to wander out from under the lily pads.
Birding is one of the real joys of the Delta. The floodplains are home to an array of species that will have twitchers fumbling for their spotting scopes faster than you can say 'Squacco Heron’. African Fish Eagles seem to perch around every bend, African Jacanas skip across the surface and Purple Herons flap lazily towards their next perch.

With toes trailing in the water and just the gentle splosh of Basha’s pole piercing the silence, about the only thing standing between me and perfection is an ice-cold G&T. Perhaps Kenneth Grahame’s Water Rat was right when he enthused that ‘There is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.’

In this water-world of channels and pools there are any number of uninhabited islands to lay your head for the night, but few can compare to &Beyond’s Xaranna Tented Camp.
The lodge opened its doors late in 2008 and now offers some of the most splendid accommodation in the Delta. With just nine luxury tented suites, it is definitely more Toad Hall than Water Rat’s hole in the riverbank!

‘But a Tented Camp?’ I hear you ask?

Now before you start worrying about guylines and wooden pegs, rest assured that an &Beyond tent is the canvas dream to end any family camping nightmares.
Elephantine beds, alfresco showers, private pools and wonderfully quirky decor make this camp ideal for the style-conscious traveller. A whimsical wind-up crocodile snaps its way across the coffee table before dinner, the hefty Roberts Bird Guide is trussed up in an electric-pink leather cover, and African classics lie waiting to be read over a glass of midday Chardonnay.

Situated on its own private island, Xaranna Tented Camp is marooned by water almost all year round, ensuring you encounter the Delta at every turn.
It flows in front of the open-air boma at the main lodge, elephants splash through it at night as they wander past your tent and Saddle-billed Storks stand knee-deep in it – colourful beaks at the ready – as you lounge on your sala day-bed in the heat of the afternoon.

Across the channel from the lodge Turpentine Grass camouflages the tawny lions that stalk these plains. Red Lechwe are frequent visitors here, as are zebra, giraffe and large herds of buffalo; all of which you'll get to meet on twice-daily game excursions.

Yet while the game is certainly a highlight of an Okavango safari, it plays second fiddle to the Delta itself. You can see the Big Five almost anywhere in Southern Africa, but the landscape of the Okavango is reason enough to visit. A landscape formed – quite simply – by a river that lost its way.

The Kavango River left the highlands of Angola with the best intentions, but mysteriously turned from the Atlantic and headed east into the dry plains of Botswana.
It’s this wayward waterway – not the rainy season downpours – that forms the Okavango, flowing 1600-kilometres from its source to empty into the world's largest inland delta.
From May to August the waters arrive, spreading the tendrils of the Delta as far south as the tourist hub of Maun. In this time of plenty, the water – and the wildlife – is scattered far and wide. The scenery is outstanding, but the game-viewing could leave you with an empty tick-list.

As summer arrives the rivers start to dry up. The heat builds and the dust rises, driving man and beast to the nearest scrap of shade, until the rains bring relief from December to March. As the downpours peter out in April the flood begins to trickle its way south once more, forming a mosaic of marsh, savanna and woodland and marking the best time to visit the Delta.

On my bush plane back to Maun – the 20-minute flight is the quickest way to Xaranna – it struck me that between floods, rain and drought the Delta is a land in constant flux. As some wit once said, the only thing that's constant is change. I wonder if he'd visited the Okavango?

• For more information visit www.andbeyond.com or call +27 11 809 4300.
• The Okavango Delta is a malaria-area. Consult your doctor at least three weeks before departure for appropriate prophylactics.
• South African passport-holders do not require a visa to visit Botswana on holiday.

There are many things I'll remember about Prague; the graceful Charles Bridge and the Old Town Square. The Astronomical Clock with its parade of characters, and the stout men in bars pulling pints of Pilsner. But none of these will remind me so much of the city as that blind accordion player.

Neatly dressed in slightly threadbare black pants and an anonymous white shirt, his dead eyes staring dead ahead as his hands flew across keys his eyes could not see. Arms straining at the weight of his gleaming accordion, the mother-of-pearl inlay glinting in the lights from the bar. His eyes blind, but ears finely tuned to the chords soaring across the room as he and four other Steinbeck-esque Gypsy musicians played their Romani hearts out in a broom-cupboard of a restaurant in a far-flung suburb of the city.

"Come to my friend's restaurant," said my guide Milos. That's how it all started, as we wandered down Wenceslas Square, where Soviet bullet holes still pockmark the Museum. "He's being kicked out by his landlord and they're having a closing down party. Nobody else will speak English, but you will have fun."

With a new-found Aussie friend in tow I headed off; by foot, train and tram to meet Milos somewhere in the district of Nové Butovice. A dozen tables were crammed into two small rooms, the guttural sounds of the Czech language bouncing off the walls. Hardly a soul looked up as our lone English voices jarred against the Slavic.

But the blind accordionist wasn't the only surprise of the evening. Along with home-made sausage and potent cherry vodka there was his partner in rhyme; the violinist. A slight man with a smile in his eyes who played the bow by night, yet drove a rubbish truck by day.

"He has to get up to drive the truck in just four hours!" exclaimed Milos, not for the first, or last, time that night.

And there we sat for over two hours; spellbound, as five gypsy men from the fringes of society used music to transport themselves from the rattling trams and selective unemployment of the booming Czech capital.

The staccato notes of the ivories swam with the strings of the violin, dancing with the insistent strumming of the guitar. The barman beamed as he dropped another round of beer on the table with a grin.

"Na Zdrowie!" called out Milos. Cheers! 

Prague is like that, I found. Friendly as can be, and a surprise around every corner; if you're willing to look for it.

Perhaps too friendly, it would seem. After years in the tourist wilderness and a (thankfully) brief spell as the stag-party capital of the old Eastern bloc, the city has claimed its rightful place amongst the tourist hotspots of Europe.

It's a poisoned chalice though, for with tourism comes… tourists; thousands of them, all loyally following a well-worn path through the city.  And, to be fair, with good reason I suppose.

The layer cake of European architecture in the Old Town Square (Staromĕstské Námestí if you want to practise your Slavic) is astounding and perhaps the only place in Europe where you can skim through architectural time as you circumnavigate the square.

The Astronomical Clock is a feat of engineering so wondrous it's said that the craftsman who built it was blinded after completing the clock, so that he could never build a replica.

A macabre story, but one that fits well with the brooding Gothic architecture of a city that's survived Nazi occupation, Soviet invasion and a painful birth into Western democracy.

Last stop on the "can't miss" tourist trail is the cobbled Castle District (Hradèany) west of the River Vltava. This district stretches across the hill overlooking the city and is home to some of the best churches and museums in Prague.

The castle complex is home to the presidential office and numerous government departments, but the snaking line of tourists are all here to soak up the views of the ornate St. Vitus Cathedral. Built in the French Gothic style, the ornate church is the largest in the Czech Republic and also contains the tomb of St. Wenceslas, the ‘Good King’ of the Christmas carol.

The other highlight of the Castle District is the views back across Prague. The Vltava snakes languidly through the twisted streets as church spires scratch the belly of the low clouds shrouding the city. It may be known as the 'City of 100 Towers', but if you take the time to count them you'll need in the region of 600 fingers.

The cobbled road down the hill leads you straight onto the Charles Bridge. Ornate, historic, awe-inspiring… it is all these things, but visit in the middle of summer and you won't see the wood for the trees. Of tourists that is. Stalls selling trinkets block your path, the Germans are out en masse and the scaffolding (the Bridge is undergoing major restoration) block out many of the statues. No, in mid-summer it's best to stay off the Bridge.

Rather admire it from afar by taking a stroll on the river banks. You'll have space to hear the river wash against the ice defences, ponder the yellow plastic penguins outside the modern art museum and gaze up at the Cathedral spires. And you'll get to hear your stomach rumbling.

All that walking is bound to make you hungry, but avoid the expensive cafes on the Old Town Square and head into the New Town to eat with the locals.

U Medvídků, a traditional beer-hall in the heart of Nové Město dates back to 1466. Over the years the wood-panelled room has been a brewery, beer-hall and even the first cabaret in Prague! Today though, it is simply an authentic Bohemian restaurant and beer-hall that draws crowds of locals and tourists each day for its pints of Czech Budweiser and well-priced local dishes.

If you’re looking for something more upmarket come night-time, the nearby Klub Architektu on the fringes of the Old Town won't disappoint. And don't let the 'Klub' fool you. Sure, you can kick back with a cold Pilsner here, but it's the generous portions of traditional dishes at reasonable prices that keep people coming back to the subterranean restaurant/bar.

Emerging out into the twinkling lights of Staré Město on a warm summer evening, you'll likely find yourself swept along in the river of tourists again.

Touts wave flyers for cut-price classical concerts, mimes vie silently for your attention and crowds gather at the Astronomical Clock, waiting for Death with his hourglass to bull the bell-rope. Should you join the throng and wait for the show, or head back to the hotel?

Tough choice, until you hear the sound of an accordion singing in the distance.

Originally published in The Weekender; 24 May 2009.

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

“Oh please stop singing that song!” came the call from the passenger seat.  “Sorry,” I mumbled, swinging the car off the strip of tar popularly known as Route 62.
It was hard not to think of Dorothy encountering those lions and tigers and you-know-whats on the way to see her Wizard. We were, after all, following a dusty orange gravel road headed for a place known as Tierhoek – ‘Tiger Corner’ – and we’d do well to keep an eye out for mottled moggies.

The ‘tigers’, of course, are none other than the elusive Cape Mountain Leopards  which still haunt the hills behind Tierhoek Organic farm.

“We lose a sheep or two every now and again, but that’s the price you pay to keep the baboons off the peaches,” laughs Bruce Gilson, every inch the farmer with his ruddy cheeks, scuffed shoes and well-worn rugby shorts. However, the electric golf-cart he uses as his farm run-around gives the game away that this isn’t your average farm.

When Bruce and his wife Alison bought the farm in 2000 they immediately set about transforming their 1500ha of fertile valley into an organic haven, removing pesticides and using everything from electric fences to baboon bribery (with peaches left high in the mountains) to keep their fruit au naturel.

“Up at the end of the valley like this we’re quite removed from other farms in the area,” says Bruce. “So running our farm on organic principles is that little bit easier.”

A few years down the line and the effort has paid off. Today organic apricots, peaches (spot them at your nearest Woolies), plums, mangoes and half a dozen other fruits hang heavily on the trees. It’s clear that at Tierhoek, the fruit comes first. No surprise then that a sign on the edge of an orchard – “Dust damages plums” – wags its finger at us to slow down as we head up past the farmhouse and into the valley. Past the plums, keep going at the field of onions, ignore the quinces and head straight up the valley through the peach orchard until the road delivers us to Pepper Tree Cottage, the most romantic of the farm’s three self-catering hide-aways.

Once a humble worker’s cottage, Pepper Tree was built sometime in the early 1900s but has been lovingly done up to provide a cosy country bolthole. A private plunge-pool offers wonderful views down the valley and to the vineyards beyond, or simply spend your days simply gazing up at the craggy peaks above. And keep an eye out for Pronk; the old plough horse who now roams wild in them thar hills.

If it’s a bit chilly for dipping you can always retreat into the cosy kitchen and lounge where a Jetmaster in the corner will keep Old Man Winter at bay. A hefty supply of bone-dry peach wood is stacked around the corner to keep the home fires burning. Catch a cold front while you’re here and the mountaintops in the distance will likely be dusted with white.
But don’t spend all of your time indoors.

Mountain bikes are welcome on the farm (just slow down near the plums!) or take a stroll through the orchards – in season, help yourself to a peach or two – to the veggie garden up near the farm dam.

“Jan looks after the veggies for us,” says Bruce, “and guests are welcome to help themselves for the pot. It’s looking a little tired now after a long, hot summer, but usually you’ll find things like aubergines, bok choi and swiss chard in there.”

Nearby, ‘Bully Bulldozer’ and ‘Vaaljapie’ the Land Rover lie rusting in peace and will keep young ones occupied for hours.
“If the kids can start them they can take them home!”

Home. Hmmm. As Dorothy said, there really is no place like it, but after four nights at Tierhoek it took the will-power of Pronk to pack the car and make our way – slowly, mind you – down past the plums to the strip of tar that’d lead us back to the city. Pity, we never did see any lions, or tigers… or bears.

IF YOU GO…
Where it is: Off the R62 between Worcester and Robertson.
Why go there: It’s the ideal escape from the rat race. If sloth is a deadly sin you’ll need more than a few Hail Mary’s after a weekend here. Turn down the speedometer on 2009 and take a much-needed breather.
What it offers: The farm has four guest cottages spaced well apart from each other: two one-bedroom romantic getaways (Pepper Tree and Quince Cottage) and two adjoining two-bedroom cottages for groups and families.    
What it's like: Your own little Garden of Eden. The wineries of R62 are a short drive away, but you’ll be hard-pressed to do more than sit and gaze at the green, green valley below. Pack a few books, stash your favourite bottle(s) of wine, bundle your significant other into the car and get set for some serious R&R.
And the food: Self-catering all the way, but the cottages are well equipped so you can get creative if you feel up to it. Route 62 has some great restaurants to explore if you don’t. Alison can also arrange breakfast and dinner baskets on request, and the farm produces wonderful organic jams and preserves.
Rates: From R500 cottage per night. Reduced rates for under-12s.
Getting there: Follow the N1 and R60 towards Robertson. Turn left at the Rooiberg Winery, cross over the Vinkrivier and up into the Noree Valley. Easy-to-follow maps available on their website.
Contact: Visit www.tierhoekcottages.co.za to find out more, or contact Alison Gilson on 023 626 1191 or This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .

Originally published in the SUnday Times; 24 May 2009.

Right about now is when the months of howling south-easters start to make Capetonians think of escape to calmer pastures. Hell, it's been happening for years. Even those hardy Voortrekkers got gatvol, packed their belongings into trusty ox-wagons and flipped the bird to the Cape Doctor. It must be still on the other side, they thought. If only they'd known.

Fast forward to the 21st century and escaping the brown, dry days of a late summer in Cape Town is easy. Throw all your earthly possessions into a suitcase, squeeze into an airline seat fit for a vertically-challenged king and you're in the green, green Highveld quicker than you can say "What the hell do you mean we're staying in an ox-wagon?"

While my Anglo-Saxon forebears turned in their graves, my wife simply nodded and pointed north. Your hinterland is there. I swear I saw a mischievous twinkle in her eye as we headed off up the N1 and into the rolling hills beyond Pretoria.

"Beyond Pretoria!" I hear you say. Well, yes.

Most Capetonian map books simply have "Here be Dragons" for the area beyond Mogale City, but with assurances that the locals would give us safe passage we decided to risk it. If those rough and tumble Voortrekkers could do it, then so could we.

We had no delusions of finding the Nile somewhere north of the Hammanskraal tollgate, so turned off the freeway, skirted the edges of the Roodeplaat Dam and meandered our way past bush pubs and farm-stalls to the gates of Tussen-i-bome.

Leave your airs and graces with the zebra grazing gracefully at the gate… this is a place to kick off your vellies (or Crocs, if you're from Cape Town) and chill out. Three simple ox-wagon camps dot this small private reserve; each with their own half-barrel bath, flush toilet and braai area. There's even a bakoond if you're feeling particularly pioneering.

The highlight, of course, is each camp's ox-wagon with its double bed and trying-hard-to-be-romantic mosquito net. There's also a side-tent with single beds to keep smaller voortrekkers with their feet on the ground.

Poking my head out of the canvas in the morning it was a trader, not a trekker that popped into my head though.

Tussen-i-bome may be hundreds of miles from that rutted path where tough men ran a gauntlet of wild country and wilder animals to reach Delagoa Bay, but waking up under the canvas of an ox-wagon is all you need to live out your Percy Fitzpatrick fantasies.

There might not be a Jim Makokel' rabble-rousing round the fire or a Jock of the Bushveld sleeping under the stairs, but for a braai-loving city-slicker looking for a dose of the bushveld there's no better place for falling off the proverbial ossewa. I've even scribbled it onto my roadmap.

"Tussen-i-bome: Here be wagons".

IF YOU GO…
Where it is: Off the R573 KwaMhlanga/Moloto road, about 40kms from Pretoria.
Why go there: Well, when was the last time you slept in an ox-wagon? Apart from the quirky accommodation it's a chilled-out place to take a weekend break without a long drive home.
What it offers: Three private ox-wagon camps set amongst the bushveld. Each camp can sleep four people: two in the wagon and two in the side tent. There's also a comfortable guesthouse with three en-suite bedrooms and spacious living areas. There's a communal pool and lapa/bar area for sundowners, and an über-wagon that's good for functions.
What it's like: Camping with a twist – feel the silence of the bushveld without having to pack a tent and the kitchen sink. The camps are well-equipped and well-spaced so you'll feel like you have the place to yourself.
And the food: Self-catering is your best bet, but meals can be arranged on request. Don't forget the bread flour for the old-style oven!
Rates: Just R170 pppn for the wagons, or R200 pppn for the guesthouse.
Getting there: Take the N1 North from Johannesburg. Take the Zambesi off-ramp from the N1 north and turn towards Cullinan. Left onto the R573 road for 25kms and then left onto the Hammanskraal road.
Contact: Div & Ronell van der Merwe on 082 511 1169 or email This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it . You can also visit www.tussenibome.co.za.

LOCAL ATTRACTION
Tussen-i-bome is slap-bang in the middle of the Dinokeng tourism route, so there's no chance of coming down with wagon-fever. Heading into the great outdoors is your best bet and the region offers a wide range of outdoor adventure activities, from mountain biking trails at Roodeplaat Dam to freshwater fishing in the waters of the Mdala Nature Reserve. Dinokeng is also one of South Africa's prime bird-watching areas, so twitchers will be happy.

This is Diamond Country too, and it's well worth taking a wander through the quaint mining town of Cullinan. The village shot to fame on 25 June 1905 when the famous Cullinan Diamond was found here; at 3106 carats it remains the largest rough diamond ever found. Today the mine still produces nearly a quarter of the world's diamonds. A free viewing platform allows you to peek down into the hole that's four times the size of Kimberley's, but surface and underground tours are also on offer.

The village still retains its Victorian feel and a wander down the jacaranda and oak-lined avenues will reveal delightful antique shops, restaurants and museums. The quaint stone church of St. George's, designed by Sir Herbert Baker, is worth a visit, as is the delightfully quirky Jan Harmsgat se Agterplaas.

• Originally published in the Sunday Times, 3 May 2009