Riding the Dragon’s Tail

Searching for the notorious Five Pound Bend in the mountain passes of the Eastern Cape Drakensberg got Chris Marais involved in a week of high adventure, mystical encounter – and near-disaster ...

Now listen,” says Andre Conradie, as he hands over the keys to my bakkie,
“I want you to find the Five Pound Bend when you’re up there in the mountains.”

Andre and his team prep our Isuzu bakkie before every long journey.
He used to be a platteland policeman, posted to just about any place you find a windmill.

Because of his past life, Andre is my trip advisor. And he knows the Tail of the Dragon, the southern Drakensberg, very well.

“It’s somewhere at the top entrance to the Barkly Pass,” he says. “Back in the old days, the ox wagons had to go around a hairpin bend, and they almost always broke the front axle.

“There was a farmer living down below. He charged them five pounds an axle for a repair job. Eventually, he gave up farming. But when cars arrived, he went out of business. Anyhow, there’s a ‘Five Pound’ inscription on a rock somewhere out there. I’ve seen it.”

Right then. A mission within the major mission, which is to travel the famous Eight Passes of the Eastern Cape Drakensberg – Joubert’s, Volunteershoek, Carlisleshoek, Naudé’s Nek, Lundean’s Nek, Otto du Plessis, Barkly and Bastervoetpad.

Wagon wheels for buttons

Driving north from our home base of Cradock, my wife, Jules, and I arrive under gunmetal cloud cover at our first stop, Lupela Lodge outside Lady Grey, where we meet our hosts, Kate Nelson and Phil Harrison of Wild Mountain Adventures.

Hmm. Now which Lady Grey are we talking about here?
Sophie Grey the architect who, according to my occasionally muddled friend Martin Rattray, used to “ride around on churchback, designing horses”?
Or was it named after Lucy Grey, wife of Governor Sir George Grey?
Google tells me it was the latter. Ha. Lucy and Sir George had a small falling out on a return sea voyage from England, I recall. Something about a little letter she slipped into the hands of a fellow traveller called Sir Harry Keppel.
Whatever was in the note, it annoyed Sir George so much he dropped her off − handmaidens, baggage and all − at Rio de Janeiro before crossing the Atlantic back to Cape Town. It was that Lady Grey …

But this Lady Grey is looking rather lovely today, as the afternoon sun peeps out golden on the Mother Church and the village snugs into the Witteberg and there are sounds of merriment coming from the local tavern.

Up there, on the heights, lies Joubert’s Pass, which we will attempt tomorrow.
We are staying in a cleverly converted silo at Lupela Lodge, owned by Alf and Denise Ross.

At breakfast the following morning, Alf tells us about the legendary Cloete brothers, who lived nearby on Benjamin Heights.
They were super strong young men.
One of the Cloetes was working in his field one day when he was approached
by a stranger.
“Where is the strong Cloete?” the man wanted to know.
“He lives up there,” said the “other” Cloete, lifting the entire plough off the ground to point at the farmhouse.

Aah, these lovely outdoor mountain tales. Reminds me of the old stories about Paul Bunyan, the lumberjack who appears in tall tales of American folklore.

It took five giant storks, working in relay, to deliver Baby Paul to his folks. By the time he was one week old, he was so big he had to wear his dad’s clobber. At one year, he was using wagon wheels for buttons …

Paul Bunyan and the Cloete brothers would have been a formidable trio. And let’s not even mention the ox …