The South African Wild Coast is quite potentially the most underrated, untainted, unspoilt and frequently overlooked coastline in the country-modestly and submissively residing in the imperious shadow of the likes of the Captonian Empire. The Wild Coast is an unlikely, invaluable oyster clasping an unmatched pearl of splendour and discovery, inundated with a wealth of sheltered and unassuming bays, theatrically striking beaches, jagged cliffs and liquefactions of entrancing hills and valleys.
Apart from the fact that the untarnished, uninhabited natural magnificence that affords Wild Coast rovers to explore the organic artworks of the national treasure, I’ve fallen in love with its rustic, unpretentious charm and character. The magic of the Wild Coast lies in the nirvana that embraces an uncomplicated barefoot-bohemian lifestyle; coastal living that brings one back to the basics, where the myth of having time to watch the sunset manifests and becomes an unheard of reality.
The most riveting thing about landing at the Mthatha airport is the fact that you find yourself less than half an hour away from a little rural village named Qunu-the very village that our most beloved, humble former President and global icon Nelson Mandela spent his childhood. My bold heart swells with patriotism as I hike with deliberation through the village absorbing the spiritually and historically charged air that kisses the stone church where “Madiba” was baptised and the sliding rock where he used to play as a child who hadn’t the slightest notion of the rippling impact that his love and humility would have not only on our country, but the entire world.
In addition to the invaluable historical significance that the Wild Coast exposes, the lazy coastline is freckled with villages, each taking ownership of their own quirks and distinctive features. The Wild Coast infallibly summons me to one of the most low-key, self-effacing restaurants…the type that wouldn’t wince if the likes of a lion were to waltz in unannounced (it’s called the ‘Wild’ Coast for a reason). The Country Bumpkin Restaurant is an old farmhouse restaurant encircled by the Wild Coast’s sheer natural pulchritude and prepares meals worthy of comparison to grandma’s cooking. Effortlessly plastered in character and charisma, this shy little restaurant and its décor evoke feelings of old fashioned warmth and nostalgia. The Country Bumpkin’s celebrated wood oven pizzas are irrefutably the best in the country-it would be a sin in itself not to succumb to well-justified pizza devouring.
As I run my paw through my tousled, beachy mane, I can’t help but feel like the proverbial surfer: toes caked in sand, no concept of time, no plan, and not a care in existence. I’m in Coffee Bay, a little coastal town comprised mostly of sun-kissed surfers, backpackers and feet with little direction or urgency-but this is Coffee Bay, where it is simply your prerogative to be happy and blissfully oblivious to the concept of stress. “Hakuna Matata” as my brother always says with a cheeky smirk.
This brings me to my all-time favourite place to jam-Jah Drums. This rustic, corrugated-iron clad joint (excuse the pun), is populated by drummers with long, matted, rope-like locks and loose fitting pants in loud reds, greens and yellows. This Rastafarian drumming factory invites you to “Jamaica-in-Africa” where you’re taught to skilfully make your own drum and subsequently get lost in the pulsating vibes and rhythm of interactive drumming. After an invigorating session of falling into a drumming trance, I can never depart without a generous helping of curry or braaied chicken that Jah Drums’ café is renowned for.
Further up the coast line at the mouth of Umzimvubu River lies another lazy little hammock town referred to as Port St. Johns. The heart and soul of Port St. Johns is indisputably the Umngazi River Bungalows Resort where you’re embraced by incomparable warmth and swim in an atmosphere that seems to cleanse and purge you of every iota of tension collected and mounted upon your shoulders.
The Umngazi River Bungalows promotes an incarnation of modesty where visitors from all walks of life stand elbow to elbow and have a thoroughly enjoyed, light hearted chinwag over a beer or a glass of wine with the welcome company of spellbinding views and dappled, starlit skies.
The resort emanates an unforgettably distinct, down-to-earth personality and apart from the opportunity to foster friendships, it offers organised guided walks as well as soothing sunset boat cruises up the river…I could lap this up for an eternity.
Speaking of eternity, Port St. John’s keeps an ancient secret in its pocket…the remedial Isinuka mud caves and sulphur pools. The traditional Mpondo people named the springs Isinuka which quite simply means “place of smell”, bearing reference to the pungent odour of the sulphur that the springs emit. Whether I need physical or spiritual ailments that require tending to, Isinuka’s dense, bubbling, natural cauldrons of therapy release chemicals (which are believed to cure affliction and relieve anxiety) resound an answer. I should have followed my elephant comrades’ advice years ago-the cure to absolutely anything surely is a decent mud bath.
The Wild Coast’s Dwesa Nature Reserve is yet another example of a spirit igniting experience that exposes those with unquenchable thirsts for environmental splendour to a coastal forest bursting at the seams with wild life and over 290 bird species. The winding trails are sublime for hikers and ramblers like myself and for those with less vigour, who are inclined to drinking up nature’s visual nectar at more of a dawdle, a boat ride on the Mbashe River proves just as satiating.
All good things are wild and free: Blessed is the Wild Coast, the gypsies, the makers of music, the artists, writers, dreamers of dreams, the explorers and the wanderers who see the world through beautiful eyes…(and the lions of course, don’t forget the lions)…