Cape to Coast (pt. 1): Knysna Forests

Ramblings on a road trip from Cape Town to KwaZulu Natal with my brother, Greg.

Diepwalle Forest, in Knysna, was our first stop. Diepwalle means “deep walls”, and the forest delivers. As we approached the trees, and the lights of Knysna faded behind us, the canopy above kept the starlight at bay. The trees pressed in on either side of our little car, making us feel smaller as the forest stretched on endlessly. Greg concentrated on avoiding the potholes, and I pressed down on my imaginary brakes, as we wound further into the forest.

Finally, we reached the campsite, which lay in utter darkness. We left the car in search of signs of life, only to find the reception closed. Plan B: choose a tent and check in tomorrow morning. We had booked a tented deck, with basic bed stands and mattresses included. However, as we peered into the darkness along each boardwalk, we found not a single tent with beds, and I began to prepare myself for a cold night on the floor. Eventually, we decided to locate the staff village for help. We trundled along the gravel path and happened upon a driveway that resounded with barks and howls. A dishevelled man came out of the house and pointed us back towards the camp, where the camp supervisor would meet us.

Whew. Sighs of relief and the corresponding clouds of steam as we waited at the camp.

The stars blinked reassuringly at us: a view far more spectacular without the haze of city pollution. The sound of a bakkie jolted us from reverie. Wilfred hopped out of his ancient SAN Parks vehicle, apologising for his lateness: he was in the bath when we phoned, you see. Wilfred pointed out the slippery planks as his shoes slid along the boardwalk; he led us towards our campsite, number 4.

I’d never been more thrilled at the sight of battered mattresses -- ¬we did not have a plan B. With sleeping arrangements sorted, the quietness of the trees and the deep dark of the forest was calming. The forest had a big presence, not unlike an old elephant: a serene giant.

The snap of twigs and the swish of a match brought our fire to life. We huddled around it, the cold creeping into the backs of our necks. With a lentil curry in our bellies, we cosied into our sleeping bags as the sounds of the forest soothed us to sleep.

Morning greeted us with whispering leaves and the croaking of the elusive Knysna Turaco. Our breakfast of coffee and oats with chia seeds and peanut butter would sustain us for a day on the trails. We were lucky to meet a staff member who advised us to take the Red Trail – the most forested and scenic out of the three trail routes, we were guaranteed to love every minute. The Red Trail took us on a round trip through the forest, along the river and up some rather long hills. The forest itself was dense: the bird life was incredible, for the sounds were symphonic, yet hardly a feather was seen despite our intense binocularing. Life was abundant: under fallen branches, fungi of every shape and colour bloom, and plants sprung from every spot of sunlight.

Diepwalle Forest is renowned, first and foremost, for its big trees. The King Edward VII tree is worth travelling for. The largest Outeniqua Yellowwood in the forest, it is nearly 39 metres tall and has a crown spread of 35 metres. It is estimated to be more than 600 years old and was named in 1924 after King Edward VII when the British Parliamentary Association had a picnic underneath it. The tree’s sheer height is frustratingly difficult to capture on an iPhone camera and dizzying to behold with one’s own eyes. One rarely gets the chance to be in the presence of something so ancient, so alive, and so breath-taking. Greg and I agreed, though, that the most special “big tree” was the one that we found during our trail run: unmarked and as hidden as a primordial tree can be, it quietly towered above the rest.

It was a true feast for the eyes and ears to be in the Diepwalle forest: rest was found amongst giants, in a place that bursts with life.