As I read the words with the kind of hardened resolve that comes from having seen too many blurbs that call attention to a “picturesque valley nestled at the foot of majestic mountains”, I gloss over the peculiar choice of ‘clandestine’ and the pretty pictures and instead fall prey to the promise that the Slanghoek Valley is only “one hour’s drive from Cape Town”.
That a secret and unspoilt place, and a wine growing region of note to boot, is just an hour from the Mother City is all I need to convince the Publisher that parting with the business expense card is a small price to pay to get me out of his rapidly thinning hair. At some point, after another lecture about the escalation of the business drinks’ account and the fact that he is practically a teetotaller, I remind him that it was his idea to send me away (which it wasn’t). He checks himself mid-sentence and says, “Oh. Okay then. See you
Monday!” and off I go.
On leaving the N1 just after the Huguenot Tunnel, at the Rawsonville turnoff, I begin to doubt the accuracy of those introductory descriptors. “It’s no Franschhoek,” I say looking at The Wife as she pulls the ‘lellow blankie’ over our sleeping toddler. I get the kind of look that says she agrees, but it’s hardly supportive.
Minutes later, however, I find myself making a silent apology to the people of Slanghoek, as we round a gentle bend and descend into a broad, flat valley hemmed by towering, truly majestic, sun-drenched mountains. No brochure could do this place justice and, its sinister connotations aside, “clandestine” is the right word after all. Had this been the first place I’d seen in the Winelands some six years ago, The Month may very well have been birthed in the Slanghoek Valley.
Our first stop is to Jason’s Hill Winery, where we’re met by sixth-generation winemaker Ivy du Toit. The Diner’s Club Young Winemaker of the Year 2003 and Landbou Weekblad Woman Winemaker of the Year 2004 is a descendant of the original family that once owned practically all of the Slanghoek Valley. As Ivy and I drink and chat our way through a Jason’s Hill Shiraz, a Merlot, a Chenin Blanc and then a Sauvignon Blanc, before turning our attention to the well-priced Jason’s Creek range and the over-delivering Classic Red in particular, The Toddler discovers a playroom adjoining the bistro upstairs and The Wife heads off in pursuit. With my focus on the wine, all I catch of her muttering is the word “clandestine”.
After the tasting and more than one glance at the surprisingly affordable prices on the wine list, we settle back to enjoy a leisurely lunch of Waterblommetjie Bredie, Fish and Chips and a Kid’s Hotdog in the Bistro, while the kid keeps himself busy in the playroom.
From Jason’s Hill we head a couple of kilometres down the road to the Slanghoek Winery, and the company of cellarmaster, Pieter Carstens. With time spent at Boland Cellar, Koelenhof, Groot Eiland and McGregor Cellar before joining Slanghoek more than a decade ago, I suggest to Pieter that it’s probably time for him to be thinking of some place new, surely? His disarming and genuine smile precedes his frank response: “When you love what you’re doing, why would you be after a change?”
Comfortable, but not necessarily luxurious, our cabin is stocked in advance with Slanghoek wines and supper courtesy of the Jason’s Hill Bistro (no doubt the Publisher will be chuffed that the card was spared a mini massacre, I think. Then decide not to let him down and resolve to splurge on the way out the next day).
As the setting sun invites me to reflect and Tweet, The Toddler demonstrates his prowess at chasing the odd cricket to a watery death and The Wife hers at pouring bubbly. What a life!
Morning dawns with a sad farewell to Platbos and a breakfast date with Stanley Louw at the Opstal Estate and Restaurant, but not before we’re whisked away by farm manager Laing for a quick ‘tour’ of the valley. The tour turns out to be a bumpy drive in his 4x4 to a vantage point high above the Slanghoek Mountain Resort.
From here Laing points out farms, recounts some of the local history and speaks with passion about wine, grapes and people. The epitome of the salt of the earth, Laing concludes the tour by thrusting two massive boxes of Hannepoot grapes (picked that morning from the vines in his back garden) my way, with a warning not to try to eat them in one go. The Toddler misunderstands this as some sort of perverted challenge and sets about doing just that.
Stanley Louw is another sixth-generationer and shows me about the Opstal cellar and equipment with obvious reverence for the foresight of his forbears and excitement at his offspring’s decision to follow in his footsteps. An early tasting of the precursor to the promising 2012 vintage precedes a formal tasting of Stanley’s Opstal and Sixpence ranges and a timely reminder that value-for-money does not necessarily mean low-on-quality. The Louws know their way around a wine barrel!
A hearty breakfast with a view to die for (and a big contributor to the fact that Opstal is a top wedding venue), a clamber on, in and under a mechanical grape harvester and a promise of a return visit later, we began to make tracks back home.
As the sun reaches its zenith I glance back in the rear-view mirror to see the broad valley and sun-drenched mountains much as they were the previous day. “Nothing seems to change here,” I suggest to The Wife. As she tilts the rear-view mirror to her own advantage she nods and says, “Except for those who visit here.”
See www.breedekloof.com
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