Forgotten Towns of the Karoo - a photojournalistic essay

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The Swartberg Pass | Die Hel

Die Hel (The Hell)
Day 4: 19 December 2005 MONDAY

NI have to introduce the next place we stopped in, because I heard so many stories since we set of on our journey that I was petrified of this place and I honestly had no reason to feel so. But I had good reason to doubt, because I was told of guests who couldn’t sleep because they heard ghosts talking and saw them sweeping past their beds while they were trying to sleep.

What I never realized was that ‘Die Hell’ was actually a campsite and guesthouse, but originally it was a small community who lived in isolation for more than a hundred years. The only reason it was called ‘Die Hell’ was because so many people had died trying to build the pass from the Swartberg Pass to ‘Die Hell’.

The one thing you surely should worry about is travelling on that road. It definitely is very dangerous, but I will explain that a bit further on. The turnoff to ‘Die Hell’ is fifteen kilometres from Prince Albert near the northern summit of the Swartberg Pass. When we came to the sign, which indicated we should turn off, I had a silent wish that Etienne somehow wouldn’t find it. But it was clearly indicated and the entrance was surrounded with Protea’s in full bloom, very beautiful. I did enjoy the first part of the road tremendously, because the dirt road was fairly flat with occasional little bumps and my stomach went flying every time Etienne went speeding over them. I leaned out the window and felt an ice-cold wind pierce my skin, which was very refreshing, while massive blue mountains embraced us on either side. It was a peaceful start to a quite stressful journey. The further we travelled the narrower and steeper it became.

Eventually we had to slow down to a fairly slow pace, because we found ourselves face to face with other 4x4’s coming back from ‘Die Hell’. Whenever I saw a car coming our way, I immediately analyzed them to see whether they drove this way because they were trying to escape from ‘Die Hell’. But I’m honestly exaggerating. I did find it a tremendous thrill to drive on a road that lead to a community that where isolated for so long. I was curious to see how they could have lived there for so long, especially how the whole community operated.

Quite unexpectedly we came to the edge of the mountain, or so it felt, because right before us were clouds and right next to us was a ravine that was clearly so deep, we couldn’t see the bottom, and the Jeep’s tire was standing right on the edge of it. We realized then why the road was so dangerous, but what was more startling, was the fact that the dirt road literally only had space for one vehicle.

Etienne was full of determination, and I sat on my knees with the camera the whole way and captured as many photos as possible to try and capture the depth. I had ample opportunities, but more often I had to look out the window to direct Etienne so that he could squeeze past another vehicle. It was nerve twitching but absolutely exciting. Etienne was driving quite slow, and was very cautious.

At one stage we approaching a bend and couldn’t see around it when a white 4x4 came charging around the corner at a ridiculously reckless speed. Etienne was driving slow enough to make an emergency brake without letting the Jeep slide over the loose gravel, but our reckless 4x4 friend wasn’t so fortunate. We watched them slam on their brakes and slide inch by inch closer to the edge of the ravine. I can literally recall the whole episode in slow motion in my mind as millisecond by millisecond flashed before my eyes. As the car was sliding to the edge we heard the passengers swear at the driver. Their angels really worked hard that day, because they stopped right on the edge, with the driver parallel to Etienne’s window. I honestly can’t say how these two 4x4s fitted next to one another there, but they did. Maybe the angels were busy holding them up on the other side. They didn’t want stay put for long when the driver drove forward. I think he knew how careless he had been, risking the lives of the three other passengers in his car. That just encouraged us to be even more careful. We drove on and whenever we came upon a blind corner, Etienne nearly crawled around the corner. I then had a new task from there on to look out for other 4x4s on the trail.

Sometimes the trail made it possible for us to see oncoming cars. It helped to know when coming near a corner whether we shouldn’t rather crawl up the side of the mountain and wait for them to go past. So we really drove for quite a while before we even saw a building. When we did see a building, it was very, very small and right at the bottom, while we were right at the top of the mountain. It was nerve wrecking to see the thin dirt road snake all along the side of the mountain. If someone hadn’t actually built the road, I would never in my wildest dreams have thought it would be possible to drive a car there. But someone did.

I have to mention the fact that Etienne smokes, and I don’t, and I really dislike the taste of it in my mouth. But when Etienne was trying to light his cigarette whilst we were driving on that steep slope, I nearly grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and lit it for him. What I actually did was that I told him that I would light it for him. I think he was glad, because he really didn’t fancy the idea of taking his hands off from the steering wheel. Luckily he wasn’t a chain smoker. So onwards we crept and eventually came upon some mountain bikers coming our way, who were feeling very energetic. Although they didn’t look very energetic, because they weren’t even a quarter up the mountain and looked utterly exhausted.

When we did eventually found ourselves on level ground once more, mountains surrounded us. It was almost like being in a very wide crater. We stopped the car and looked back up the mountain where we had come from, and low and behold, we saw a 4x4 pulling a 4x4 caravan behind it. I couldn’t imagine how they had managed to get that far, or even how other cars could pass them. But we left them to sweat it of and drove further into thick vegetation. We crossed a few streams with bridges built of concrete, obviously built recently to carry the heavy traffic.

I think I expected more, but when we did come across the official ‘Die Hell’ building, I was disappointed. It looked like a normal farmhouse. A fence made of wood indicated the entrance, while a fake horse was standing beside it. Odds and ends, like broken wicker baskets were hanging from the fence. The name ‘Die Hell’ wasn’t clearly visible. But I probably expected a red neon light with an arrow pointing at a red devil with a fork in his hand.

When we walked around we saw very interesting artefacts. I would have liked it if they had a tag of some sort to say where it came from and roughly how old it was. When I eventually recovered from my expectations and started to look around, I found it a very unique place. The main office or farmhouse, if it was that, had a big hall filled with tables each with it’s own candle, and all along the wall, paraffin lamps where hanging. I then realized that there was no electricity. Not even in the bathroom, this was in the darkest corner of the whole structure. They clearly hadn’t redone anything, because the doors weren’t rectangular in shape, but sloped and worn through as they sagged from the hinges.

Next to the hall (restaurant), they had a curio shop, what I never realized until later was that all the things they sold were made by the small community that still lived in ‘Die Hell’, everything from pickled chillies to jams, to liqueur to wit-blits. On the crafty side you would find clothing, chimes and many more things.

I can still clearly remember Etienne and I were standing in the craft shop talking to Marinette who manages the shop, when Etienne enquired about the camping costs. I thought he was merely enquiring out of curiosity, when he said he would pay for a campsite. I was immediately upset and couldn’t understand the point of driving so few hours, compared to a whole twenty four hours of a day, when we still had the whole of the Karoo to explore. When he saw my face in utter shock, he looked at me in surprise and he apologized for the mistake and we walked out.

An awkward hour was to follow, it honestly was worse than driving on the edge of the mountain with your heart throbbing in your throat. I tried to drink my coke, even though I was very thirsty, but I didn’t enjoy it. We avoided eye contact and when Etienne said we should try and find our next Karoo town, I dismally went to the car to fetch the map. All the while I was searching my mind and heart wondering why I didn’t want to stay in ‘Die Hell’. It was only because of the name, and having listened to strangers and believing their unbelievable stories, I had created fear, which shouldn’t be there in the first place. So I tried to summon up the courage to stay, but the marrow in my bones just didn’t want to listen.

I found the wrinkled map in the car and sat down opposite Etienne who with the occasional sigh would fumble with the map and turn it over and over and over. He asked my opinion at one stage, and without really wanting to respond to him, I just said I don’t know, I was just the navigator, he should decide. So we stood up and climbed back into the car. It was only while we where driving away, that I realised I was an utter fool, first to believe strangers when I clearly didn’t see or feel anything wrong with the place, and secondly, I felt disappointed in myself for not facing my fears.

Etienne was just about to drive up the mountain when I surrendered to my fears and we decided to stay. I am very glad that we did, because it was one, if not the most, peaceful campsite we had been to. So we turned around and went back to Marinette who gladly helped us. She told us that each day at least two cars would stop at ‘Die Hell’, and whenever they need supplies, one man, who she introduced to us, had a red beard, would drive all the way out and back to buy them. That particular day, he had to deliver a husky puppy to his new owners. He was born in ‘Die Hell’; his mother belonged to Marinette, who unfortunately had to tie her up in her garden because she had bothered too many visitors. We asked her how she managed to live so isolated and she replied that she has a few hours of electricity, where she would watch television. She’s a very pretty woman and very kind. Etienne hadn’t packed in any warm clothing, and when she heard this she went searching for something out of their stores to sell to him to wear. He managed to find a blue jersey, which reminded me of my old school jersey. He obviously only wore it out of desperation, because I had never seen him wear it again after the Karoo trip.

We bought a few snacks and things to braai and set of to the campsite. There where ample space, there where so many camping spots that you would have been able to have ten camping spots to yourself. We picked one quite close to the ablution facilities and pitched our tent. The rest of the afternoon we just lay around and listened to birds rummaging through dried leaves. I had packed in my hubbly bubbly, or shisha as some call it, and we had a very relaxing puff beside the fire.

One by one we saw people arrive and pitch up their tents or flip their fancy 4x4s into caravans in a few minutes. Our neighbours had us fascinated for hours. They had every imaginable gadget you could think of. The husband was busy for hours dragging things from inside the 4x4 before we saw him eventually reach the tent. When he had it pitched, the wife was busy for hours making something that really smelled divine! We were quite startled to see that they had a very young baby with them. He or she was fairly quiet, but I was unsure to the risk that they were taking. A baby of that age should surely be near a hospital if something should happen. But it was their decision.

Eventually their delicious food lured our lazy bones to start a fire to make our food. Our food might not have looked as fancy as our neighbours, but it sure did taste divine. It’s very interesting to see what one comes up with when you discover you had left necessities behind. For one, we had forgotten our dishwashing liquid, but resolved to use shampoo just to get rid of the oil for the time being. I was fortunate enough to have packed in a large bottle.

The daylight faded fairly quickly from being enclosed by the mountains, when Etienne again had the idea of taking photographs at night. So we went strolling along the dirt road and went deeper into the woods. I wasn’t very comfortable with the idea, still thinking of hillbillies and monsters and ghosts. But Etienne was geared with his camera and tripod on his shoulder and I with my little flashlight as security, we set of down the road.

At first I was able to make out the white road in front of me, but the further we walked the less I saw. I eventually walked so close to Etienne that I must have rubbed a blister on his shoulder. My eyes were trying to focus everywhere and my ears heard every little squeak. But I knew Etienne was playing games with me, because all along the road he kept on making comments about hillbillies and creatures. I should have knocked some sense into him, but I would have been left on my own, so I resolved to listen to his horrible comments, all the while shivering in fear. But eventually I managed to relax and laughed at myself while Etienne tried to take photographs, but it was too dark to make anything out of the photos he took. Eventually we realized it was too dark to see anything, so we turned around and headed back to the camp. It was a very pleasant night. It wasn’t as cold as in Carnarvon and I slept like a baby, not like I expected. I never once saw a ghost, or heard one for that matter.

It was approximately *km from Die Hell to Calitzdorp.

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A short history of Die Hel:

Also known as Gamkaskloof, where a small, proud community lived in isolation for more than 100 years. Access was only on horseback or on foot. When a road was carved into the valley in 1962, a gradual exodus began, with the last farmer, Piet Swanepoel, leaving in 1991. Their modest homes and relics of fruit orchards can still be seen. Visitors should allow almost a full day in a sturdy vehicle to travel from town to the end of the valley and back, although the total trip is only about 160 kilometres.

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