Saturday morning at The Baths, Citrusdal, during late August, and the nagging feeling that I really should be making an effort to see the annual West Coast wildflowers wouldn’t leave me. Unlike the day before, the skies were clear and the bright morning promised excellent viewing. The anxiety of missing something special eventually overcame the enticement of an entire day’s luxurious soaking in the hot mineral baths, and I resolved I simply had to go.

Eagerly, I put this suggestion to the family, beaming at them expectantly, waiting for the enthusiastic and unanimous, “C’mon, let’s go! Now!”. However, the response was a lengthy silence, followed by the simple question from my gorgeous wife, “And how long will we be gone?”. Well, I wasn’t sure, … not too long – probably a couple of hours, maybe a few? This uncertainty was instantly trashed with, “Hah, I know your few hours – no, I came here to relax and enjoy the waters, and so I will. You go. And take some photos. Oh, and buy some oranges, too – it’s orange season, and Jemima also wants some.” My son expressed the same sentiment, unnecessarily labouring the point, I felt, about my few hours. And so, in the end, it was just my daughter and I who leapt into the car, leaving them to the restorative waters, with promises to bring them many photos, and some oranges.

But where were we going to go and see the flowers?

To Reception. Reception would know where best to observe this splendid phenomenon within reasonable striking distance. We drove down to Reception, and Reception did know, although it was, perhaps, with a slight stretch of within reasonable striking distance … “Biedouw Valley”, said the receptionist, “would probably be the best spot – but it is quite far …”. The words a few hours echoed in my mind, but I was committed, and we had to see the best that Nature had on offer.

Google Maps estimated an hour and a half, and we were on our way, Manchester Orchestra’s The Silence blaring, and the open road before us. Turning right onto the recently upgraded N7 we headed for Clanwilliam, just over 60km away.

The countryside was dripping in beauty, orange trees hung heavy with fruit. Grass and bush, green from the good winter rains, dressed the mountains and vales, and patches of wildflower decorated it all generously with yellows, whites, oranges, pinks and blues. The Olifants River flowed strongly again, the tea-coloured water flashing under the sun in its many channels.

We sped by colourful farmstalls, earmarking them for the orange obligation on our return. The turnoff to Markuskraal looked so interesting but we headed on. Past the Algiers road which we knew so well – the gateway to the Cederberg, the fabulous camping, chalets, hiking, the smell of wood-smoke and braai’s, starlit nights and so much more – with all the rains the streams and waterfalls would be gushing and splashing, the drifts full and the roads exciting – but not today. The Jeep growled over the smooth black tar, eating up the miles. Wanderlust by the Hollow Coves was playing now.

Nearing Clanwilliam, it was pleasing to see the dam so full, flowing over the wall, which is to be raised by 13m, construction to be completed by 2023. We turned into the town, and followed Google Maps direction’s, heading, left, out of Clanwilliam and up the Pakhuis Pass on the R364. This was an exciting part of the world and many interesting names called out to be remembered for future visits, Boskloof Swemgat, Klein Kliphuis, Cederberg Bunkhouse, De Pakhuys, Alpha Excelsior Guestfarm, and many more.

We passed the grave of C. Louis Leipoldt, the great Afrikaans poet, and also the Englishman’s Grave, Lieutenant Graham Vinicombe Winchester Clowes of the 1st Battalion, Gordon Highlanders, killed on a hot summer’s morning during the 2^nd Boer War. We reflected on the irony of being on such a remote road with two such disparate men lying at peace so close to each other, one a fervent critic of British actions during the war, and the other a forceful proponent of that Empire. But in the end, the glory of war stands ignominious and stark against Death, the great leveller, and for a young man to be lying there, bleeding out on the hot dusty earth, on that distant morning, so far away from home, seemed such a sad waste.

Just beyond the grave was the right-turn to our destination. We glanced at each other apprehensively; since leaving Clanwilliam, the splashes of colour had been shrinking and becoming less frequent; the vegetation was browner and scrubbier … We didn’t have to say anything to know that we were both wondering what splendour could possibly arise out of this increasingly barren landscape? What awaited us in the Biedouw Valley beyond?

The tar ended and the dirt began, my favourite surface for driving – but we were beginning to encounter traffic kicking up vast clouds of dust in the dry conditions. Impatiently, I slowed down to a safe distance behind the convoy ahead, Google Maps indicating that we hadn’t far to go. Slowly we wound up the Uitkyk Pass, crested and then nosed down the steep descent into the Valley.

We rounded the first bend, and peering anxiously through the dust, instantly, our apprehensions vanished. The vision before us was indescribably wonderful! Wordsworth’s golden daffodils dancing in the breeze would not have competed with this magnificence. As far as we could see across the valley, the colour was intense; oranges, yellows, whites, pinks, vast fields of bright glorious wildflowers greeted our eyes. We sensed the traffic ahead of us speeding up, a common desire to get down to this splendour as swiftly as possible spurring us on.

We could see clusters of parked vehicles at various spots among the flowers and headed towards one where a short walk would immerse us completely within the spectacle.

We parked and entered the Wonderland!

The visual impact of the colour was tangible; it literally took hold of our eyes and would not let go. And very soon we were cast even deeper into the spell by the most beautifully soft and gentle fragrance; it was pervasively warm and balmy. The aroma filled the senses with happy thoughts; I found myself reflecting on Dorothy, Toto and the Lion in the field of Poppies and thought about how nice it would be to lie down in these fields of flowers and take a nap – we were totally mesmerised.

To capture that exact perfume, bottle it, and name it Wildflower would be to induce the magic of this experience whenever and wherever it was freed.

We wandered among the beauty, moving among the hues and scents, soaking it all in, trying to absorb every aspect; to imprint it all in our memories, forever. So deep was our intoxication that, even though both of us were radically camera shy, we enthusiastically clicked away at each other!

But, eventually, the feeling that we should be heading back, lent impetus by pangs of hunger and thirst, penetrated the spell and, slowly, we reluctantly meandered back to the car.

We fled back over the Pakhuis Pass, made a quick stop at the charming Velskoendraai Farm Stall & Restaurant for sustenance, and hit the N7 to the sound of “Hallelujah” – Reuben And The Dark.

The countryside flashed by. We didn’t say much on the way back to The Baths – our thoughts were lost back with the Wildflowers, floating among the colour and fragrance.

Near Citrusdal, we stopped to buy juicy, bargain-priced oranges, and eventually pulled up at The Baths just as our companions were making the motions of getting the evening braai started. We rushed down to the hot pool for a quick dip and as the steam rose off the water and enveloped my face I was sure that I could smell the delicate sweetness of the flowers distilling in its warm vapours.

Later, while standing around the fire and turning the meat as it sizzled and spat over the hot coals, and after my first lingering sip of Arendsig Grenache Inspirational Batch 2, I quietly passed the phone to my wife. She slowly flipped through the photos and then passed it on so that all could see the record of our wonderful experience that day. Their gasps of awe and wonder were as real as their expressions of regret at having not accompanied us on our quest – but their determination to do so next year was unanimous and resolute.