“Sorry, we’re fully booked.”

These words merely confirmed what I’d seen on all the Cederberg resort websites – all blocked out for bookings right through July, August and September. “But how”, I asked, frowning, “is this possible? We’re under Lockdown, right?” It was mid-July, on the eve of the relaxation of Level 3 Lockdown restrictions. The strong possibility of the reopening of recreational travel and accommodation had us anxiously looking forward to emerging into the World again.

“We’re allowed to accommodate Essential Workers – you require an Essential Worker’s Permit to make a booking.”

End of conversation. Grumble. Envy. All dressed up, nowhere to go. I imagined all the resorts, in the part of the Cederberg we love so much, filled to capacity with essential workers, dressed in grey coveralls with large luminous banding, efficiently and correctly lighting their braais, while calmly chatting about, well, essentially, essential work. Oh well, I reasoned, probably a good thing in the event of something happening – no lack of essential skills to sort it out.

We had to expand our search. Since the Cederberg was a no-go, the family were unanimous that wherever we went, a fireplace, a braai and a hot tub were essential and, preferably, good hiking and places of interest nearby – I know, I know, we don’t ask for much. Due to our home circumstances, it was also necessary for the accommodation to have the privacy required to sustain the preventative measures we had implemented to minimise the risk of Covid-19 infection.

Our search radiated outwards from the Cederberg with me focusing on the West Coast and Cederberg region, and my wife edging down south. I found a spot near Clanwilliam with a braai and fireplace but the chalets with hot tubs were taken. However, the river had a lovely deep pool for swimming! “There’s still snow on the mountains and you want to swim in the river?”

“We could fish?” No. Rejected. Subject closed.

Then Bonny found Bergsicht Country Cottages near Tulbagh. It looked perfect; it had everything but was only available late September. After some discussion, during which we conceded that we did have a booking coming up in August at The Baths, Citrusdal, we decided to confirm it.

The relaxations to Level 3 Lockdown were duly announced by the President that night but promptly discombobulated by the Minister the next day. We had to endure a few more weeks of ‘Essential Workers only’ before the Minister recombobulated herself and her interpretation of the President’s announcement, and our booking was finally confirmed.

Accordingly, not long after the sun rose on the morning of 23-September, we drove down our driveway in high spirits with a well-stocked vehicle and setoff to Tulbagh via Wellington and Bain’s Kloof.

The Kloof was in splendid form; the Witte River flowed swiftly, its tea-coloured water rushing over waterfalls and rapids into deep pools. Many streams ran down the steep slopes on either side, fringed by rich green vegetation and brightly coloured fynbos, splashing onto the road here and there, and adding to the Witte’s volume. We stopped to stretch our legs and admire the views. The sun was pleasantly warm, the day bright and clear, as if welcoming us back into the World after our long confinement. The sound of moving water, lots of it, filled the air, echoing its promise of sustenance and growth.

We clambered back into the Jeep, invigorated, happy, enjoying the journey as much as we anticipated the destination. We dropped into the fertile Witzenberg Valley, carved out by the relentless Breede River. It was verdant after the good winter rains; the surrounding mountains were still capped with snow and lent a crispness to the air.

We turned left onto the R43 and, after approximately 7km, left again into Voortrekker Rd, to our next stop, Wolseley. Here, we viewed the watershed of the Berg River which also merges with the Breede River, effectively forming a continental divide. Clearly signposted at the corner of Mill and White Streets, the flow can actually be seen running in each direction, to the east and west coasts, respectively.

And then on to the historic, fourth oldest town in South Africa, Tulbagh, lying beneath the imposing Groot Winterhoek range, where we had arranged to collect the keys from the Tourist Information Office in Church Street. Entering the street with its 70 heritage sites was like instantly stepping back in time by 200 years. The white buildings and small, colourful gardens, generously shaded by the large oaks, were immaculately maintained and, together with the rest of the town, illustrated the strong sense of pride the residents took in their hometown.

It was impossible to imagine that they had been literally demolished by the 1969 earthquake on the cold, wild night of 29 September, almost exactly 51 years before. Wrecking most of the region, the residents had a hard time of it that night as mountain fires raged and aftershocks added to their terror and confusion in the dark. Tragically, the light of day revealed 12 dead, most of them children from the Steinthal Mission orphanage, a short distance from Tulbagh. It’s sad, too, that the available history of the event only makes passing reference to these unfortunate young victims, their exact details lost in the very dust of the earth that claimed them on that terrible night.

But it was time to leave Church Street, with its perfectly restored buildings, and get to our destination, Bergsicht Country Cottages, some 7 kms out of town on the Groot Winterhoek Rd. We easily found the turnoff and eagerly pulled up at Ruby Star, our appointed cottage, and one of four on the property. Lush, green lawn, with the mountains protruding above the surrounding orchards, the hot tub, out front, with wood in the donkey boiler and lighters, all prepared for us – even the braai was stacked, just waiting to be lit.

Inspecting our lodgings for the next two days, confirmed my wife’s good choice. A satisfying blend of the old and new, laminated floors, rich wood-frame windows, a central freestanding fireplace – also with wood stacked and ready for the evening coolness, open-plan kitchen including all conveniences, full bathroom, a spacious bedroom with queen-sized bed for us, and separate beds for the kids in the main room, saw us well set for our stay. With the car unpacked, all that remained was to get the boiler going, light the braai, and open a bottle of The Drift’s piquant red blend, Moveable Feast.

The hot tub took about 2 hours to reach optimal heat. The boiler was efficient and we were careful to follow the host’s instructions not to over-stoke it and cause damage. After ignition, all it required was the addition of the occasional log, and the tub rose to the perfect temperature. We’d eaten by then and submerged ourselves contentedly, rounding off a very pleasant evening with a warm, soothing soak.

A sound night’s sleep, a leisurely, delicious breakfast, and we were on our way to undertake our first planned activity for that day – the Tulbagh Falls. We stopped off at the Oude Drostdy Museum on the way, but it was closed. The watchman on duty couldn’t say why but possibly due to Covid even though recreational restrictions had been lifted. A little disappointing, as I had wanted to show my family the dungeons, among other things. Anyway, we had a good look at its interesting Cape Dutch architecture – certainly not traditional but more of a blend between classical and modern gables – originally designed by Bletterman and adapted to Thibualt’s later design – and eventually completed under much controversy in 1806.

We drove through Tulbagh and turned right into Station Rd. It was a glorious day. We cruised through the green, gently rolling hills of the Land van Waveren, named by Willem Adrian Van Der Stel in 1699. Past grassy fields and brimful dams, surrounded by plentiful birdlife including flamingos and blue cranes, under a bright, clear sky. After 6.7km we turned left into Main Rd and then after another 2.5km, right, toward the Waterval Nature Reserve. We found the public parking after a further 1.2km and put the car in a shady spot; it was going to be a hot day.

The Falls were immediately visible, white water crashing down a series of falls and cascades – they looked spectacular! We hurried up the trail as quickly as our limbs, unconditioned by Covid lockdown, would allow us. A number of trails diverted from the main path to various levels of the Falls but we carried on up.

Out of breath, hot and sweaty, we reached the top and the inclination to swim in the lovely swirling pools above the falls was instinctive. We rapidly shed down to our bathers and got our feet wet … and, just as suddenly, the instinct to stay dry became the new imperative: the water was freezing! Just after winter, with snow still covering the peaks, what else could we have expected? I urged the family on, reminding them how hot we were, and how hot it would be going down again. After a while, the initial shock subsided and we tentatively edged further in. Never being brave enough to endure the pain of slowly entering cold water, I plunged in and immediately felt the exhilarating shock as the cold challenged every pore of my body.

After cooling off we were admiring the panorama of the Witzenberg Valley below us when excited voices nearby attracted our attention. What? A snake? And they were just standing there? Cautiously, we scrabbled nearer over the rocky terrain – ready to scrabble away a lot less cautiously – but there was no need for that; it was a baby Skaapsteker, Psammophylax Rhombeatus, that had decided to take a drink, totally oblivious to the people that it slithered by. He drank enough, and lay in the sun, regarding us impassively. And then, slowly, slid out of sight among the rocks. I hoped that it would become a little more wary of humans as it grew less cute, the conditioned response of many to simply kill any snake on sight, in mind.

It was lovely up there but time was passing and if there was any wine tasting to be done, our next activity, we had to think about moving. I decided to have one more dip before heading back down; I made my way out through the channels until I could see where the main flow plunged over the falls. But I was astonished! At the very point where the river dropped over the edge was a man lying on his back, his head almost over the falls, holding onto the rock on each side of the chute! His female companion, nonchalantly sitting on the rock nearby, implied that this was not an emergency. But I knew I was witnessing Darwin’s theory unfolding right before my very eyes! And I knew I didn’t want to see it, and opted out of the YouTube moment as soon as I could snap a couple of low angle shots (to exclude them) and wade back across to get dressed, get down and get going before the body floated by … and, more importantly, before the wine estates closed for the day.

We pulled up at the impressive Montpellier Wine Estate, established in 1714, by the French Huguenot, Jean Imbert. Sporadic efforts at wine production were made over the centuries but the quest for serious wine production only began in 1945 when De Wet Theron inherited Montpellier.

We strolled through the old wrought iron gates, past the buildings so attractively restored after being flattened by the earthquake, to the forest, where we found a sign reading, “Follow the music to the wine”. We listened; we followed, and in the middle of the cool, shady green we found the spacious tasting hall, decked with wooden tables and benches, and the joyful tasters, all well spread out.

We were duly sanitised and shown to a vacant spot at the far end of one of the tables, also wiped down and de-Covidified. It was adjacent to a wide, open door with ample ventilation and our concerns about possible viral infection were allayed. With our own hand sanitizer on the table, at the ready, we awaited the delivery of wine lists and menus – yes, Montpellier also serves delicious pizza on certain days.

I eagerly scanned the wine list with Omar Khayyam’s words echoing in the back of my mind, as they always did when visiting wineries, “I often wonder what the vintners buy, One half so precious as the goods they sell”. The Shiraz looked interesting but the one that really caught my eye wasn’t available for tasting, the Mourvèdre 2015. Hmm …

Since it was so warm, we thought starting with a sip of the MCC Brut Pinot Noir/Chardonnay would be very refreshing – it was – and followed with the Shiraz, opting to forego the complete flight as time was fleeting. While tasting the Shiraz, I mentioned to the sommelier that we were definitely intending to buy some wines but that it would be tremendous if we could try the Mourvèdre … if they just happened to have one open? Off he went and I observed him in earnest conversation with the maitre d’. After a little while he returned with a newly opened bottle which, I felt, was a marvellous gesture.

We tasted it! And what can I say? On the nose, scents of strawberries, cigar, and pine. And the palate, oh my! Fruity at first, and then a lingering smoky, chocolate finish; lovely, delicious and definitely one of my all-time standouts. I bought a case but, retrospectively, should’ve bought more because Montpellier has sadly discontinued it*.

It was time to get back to Ruby Star and get the hot tub and the braai going. After getting everything fired up, we settled down to complete a game of Monopoly we’d begun the night before – the old one where you could still buy Musgrave Rd for R60 and win R10 for placing second in a beauty pageant. With the sun setting over the mountains, the pleasing smell of woodsmoke, and the settling down of the peaceful evening surrounded by family, there was nothing else to do but open a bottle of the Montpellier Mourvèdre 2015, and the day was perfect.

After another comfortable night, we woke up to a cooler day. The Groot Winterhoek was obscured by cloud, and the smell of rain was in the air. After coffee and rusks, we packed the car and left for breakfast and home under a bright rainbow, surely a sign that we’d be back.

• I’m happy to report that Montpellier wine maker, Juhan Hunlun, has told me that the Mourvèdre will be produced again in a couple of years time – and he even managed to find a couple of bottles for me.