(Jacques and the team, saving the daisies from the Australian plague and practicing our camouflage skills.)
Our return to the farm where Rocking the Daisies was held started, where else, but in the Cloof wine farm tasting room. The six of us gathered around long wood tables were introduced to our eco-guide, Jaques, who would be teaching us about the farm behind the festival, what makes Rocking the Daisies so green, and putting us to work.
(The town of Darling, in the svartland, or black land, so called because it is apt to burn every ten years or so and thus often appears to have large black patches.)
After a short turn through the literature on environmental stewardship in Cape Fynbos region, we piled into the second Land Rover Defender we’d ever been in and set out on a driving tour of the property. It wasn’t five minutes in when Jaques first told the “We’re not rolling it just feels that way” joke, at this point totally clueless how often this mantra would be repeated by our goofy, good-natured host. We drove past the lawn where the main stage at Rocking the Daisies was set up, amazed by how small the space that had housed and entertained 17,000 people now seemed.
After surveying a wheat field and learning about the sandy soil of the area, we drove into the game reserve located on the property. We piled in and out a few times to survey the invasive species and the different management areas, on the top of a hill for a distant view of Table Mountain, and to take a closer look at a dead deer. The reason the deer was dead is because it is common for hungry people from the nearby town to cut holes in the fence around the game reserve to let dogs in, which hunt down the deer and drag them back to their masters. Jacques also showed us places where snares were set to capture burrowing animals, taking a moment to explain the challenges of real world conservation.
(The majestic Eland)
Coming down out of the highlands, we saw herds of zebra, eland (worlds largest deer species), and a few members of the -bok family. At one point we got out for a better look at a baby zebra, but after they were startled into the woods, Joe located a cache of eland scat which he immediately insisted we put in our mouths. Apparently, as Joe said, spitting eland poop is literally a sport in South Africa. He and Jacques would not get back into the car until we tried it. To me, this was very obviously a horrible joke. But there was no getting out of it, so we each took a little grape-sized pellet of eland poop, put it on our tongues, and tried to spit it as far as we could. Which for us, wasn’t very far. Admittedly, eland poop is pretty much just grass, but it’s really the principle of the thing.
After a visit with the owners two Boerbors (enormous South African breed of dog), we called our first day a success and headed into nearby Darling to our guest lodge. This place happened to be one of the most adorable little guest houses that ever lived. Our rooms were in the garden, decorated with local art, and well stocked with fabulous rooibos tea.
(Our room in the world’s cutest guest lodge, in the morning.)
We met Jacques for dinner at Darlings premier(only) restaurant, a cute little spot with chalkboard specials. We ordered wine and got toknow our guest, working our way slowly through starters, the world’s biggest eisbein with crackle for me (pork knee), and various, less then spectacular desserts. During dinner a lady named Wendy at the next table stopped to ask where we were from, and told us that we absolutely must come by her bookshop in the morning. Of course, we agreed.
After the snail massacre that was walking through the garden in the dark, we settled in, only to be woken bright and early by a combination of Joe, our alarms, the stray cat that wanted to join us, and what sounded like a bird kickboxing match outside our window. The breakfast prepared by our German hosts was phenomenal, and after stopping in to Wendy’s bookshop, we headed back to the farm.
Despite the absolutely dismalweather, we were going to participate in invasive species removal. We returned to the game reserve, and after spending several minute combing the undergrowth of a roadside tree for a pair of missing shears, we got to work. We were clearing a woody bush that absolutely carpeted the whole area we were working. It was an Australian invader, originally planted to stabilize the Cape’s sandy soil. We worked through the rain, cutting down the bushes, collecting them into a large pile, and spraying the exposed trunk with blue herbicide. Half an hour later, we were allowed to be done, now that we were thoroughly soaked, freezing cold, and angry about biodiversity.
(Micaela and Hannah killin’ it er’yday with the shears.)
We continued to a patch of invasive forest that walked through as we discussed wood stoves that would burn the poor quality invasive wood and other economic solutions for invasive species removal. I was somehow appointed Lewis and Clark to lead us through the woods, Jacques saying he always thought it was Lois and Clark, as in Lois Lane and Clark Kent, which made me feel better about American’s not knowing that South Africa is a country.
(Hannah, Courtney and Alicia trek out of the invasive species forest, the unfortunate accident that caused them to become conjoined at the waist is too painful to speak of.)
Before heading back to Stellenbosch, we of course had to have lunch (and a wine tasting). We changed into the driest clothes we could find and sat down to sip Cloof’s world famous Very Sexy Shiraz, followed by a delicious cheese platter. Piled back into the car, we bid farewell to our wonderfully kind and awkward host and began the journey back to campus.
In the car, I reflected on the smallness of the dam and the lawns where Rocking the Daisies was held, and tried to understand how more people somehow made the space look so much bigger. Logically, it didn’t make any sense, but through the lens of sustainability, it sort of did. It is the logic that we will take all that we can, if we have something all to ourselves, we will use it all, but when we are forced to share, we suddenly realize how little we really need. When we seek out and share our life with others, our world gets more crowded, it also feels bigger, and suddenly what to you alone is just a lawn turns into a musical masterpiece for the masses. There is a conservation lesson in this for us; that it is possible to have less, less space, less money, less consumption, and for it feel like more, like you’re part of something bigger. What can I say, nothing gets the sustainable brain juices flowing like a little poop in the mouth.
Butt Naked Travels 