This article first appeared in THE WEEKEND ARGUS Travel Supplement

3rd March 2007

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Until recently, when I encountered the words “Free State” and “tourism” in the same sentence, an unavoidable chain of association would bring back a distinct and not altogether pleasant memory from my university days. I’m driving a kombi along a straight, flat, nameless road, somewhere within a 200km radius of Bloemfontein. The day is hot and dry. Behind me, someone starts to hum the theme from The Neverending Story. Before long, new words are added to the old tune: “Absolutely nothing, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, absolutely nothing...!”

And so it was that my friends and road-trip companions expressed their disdain for our chosen route through the farmlands of the Free State. Where I saw golden fields, they saw dirty brown platteland; where I saw distant horizons, they saw – well, as they so eloquently put it, absolutely nothing. To be fair, wide open spaces and sparse, unmarked landscapes are not for everyone. But (and this is where I had it wrong) it would be altogether unfair to think that wide open spaces and sparse, unmarked landscapes are all that the Free State has to offer. I learned this belatedly – to my shame – during a festive season holiday in the north-eastern Free State. We stayed on a trout farm just outside Clarens, set against the backdrop of the lush, green foothills of the Maluti mountains.

Lush? Green? Trout? There’s water in the Free State?

You bet there is. Lots of it. It’s been a rainy spring and summer: the dams are full, the rivers are flowing freely and the grass is, as Alan Paton would have it, “rich and matted”. In fact, we stayed for a week and had rain each day. This is not a complaint; we had plenty of sunshine too, and some mist, and vermilion sunsets through streaks of cloud, and overcast mornings with dew on the ground. Walking from our lakeside cottage to check on the success of the ever-patient fly fishermen, slushing through the muddy shallows and clambering over sluices, I felt as if I’d stumbled onto the set of Monarch of the Glen, or Rob Roy, or some such highland romance. Except that in Scotland, though they may have horses and cows, they certainly don’t have blesbok or wildebeest. Life of the four-legged variety – both domesticated and wild – is abundant in this part of the Free State.

It’s hardly surprising that the idyllic rural topography of the area draws artists of all kinds, inspired to capture the landscape and its inhabitants in oils, watercolours and pastels, in photographs and even in sculptures. What may be mildly surprising to some, however, is that this has made Clarens a minor mecca for artists, collectors and curators from across South Africa (and beyond). The town is home to 15 galleries and numerous arts-and-crafts shops. Most prevalent on the display walls are, as one would expect, canvases depicting typical local scenes. Some, in bold brushstrokes of psychedelic blue and orange and pink, discern the bright colours produced when afternoon sun meets afternoon thurderstorm. Others offer a reminder of what it’s like when there hasn’t been rain – the archetypal dusty roads, donkey-carts and windmills. Others eschew their immediate surroundings and imagine something more European: buxom Mediterranean women drinking Italian wine, or late-night cats stalking the empty streets of Paris.

If these seem out of place, it’s perhaps not altogether inappropriate. Compared with nearby towns such as Bethlehem or Fouriesburg, Clarens (touted as “The Jewel of the Free State”) can also, at times, seem out of place; here, dorp meets boutique, bordkos meets nouvelle cuisine and small-town charm has a touch of urban gloss. Indeed, even the layout of the place is tourist-friendly, with most of the shops and restaurants concentrated on the single main road running either side of the town square. The square itself is an unkempt patch of green, but does contain one item of interest: a somewhat dilapidated Apartheid-era memorial to five “burghers” of the old Transvaal Republic, who were killed during the 1865 siege of Naauwpoort by Moshoeshoe’s Basotho forces (Clarens is in fact named after the village in Switzerland where Oom Paul Kruger lived out his self-imposed exile). Nobody really wants to remember the Nationalist past that the monument represents, but there is a legacy that cannot and should not be ignored – Clarens, like so much of South Africa, has a “twin economy”, a divide represented by the neat separation of affluent town and underprivileged township. 

Still, the area abounds in historical/cultural tourism opportunities helping to bridge the social divisions that persist in our country. For instance, visitors are encouraged to make a trip out to the “Fertility Cave”; quite apart from being one of the largest caves in the Southern Hemisphere, this has been a holy place of prayer, worship and pilgrimage for approximately 800 years. Going even further back into the past, there are ancient rock paintings at six separate sites in the vicinity. To the east, the Basotho Cultural Village in the Qwa Qwa National Park (bordering on the Golden Gate National Park) offers an insight into traditional ways of living from the sixteenth century to more modern times. 

Golden Gate, it goes without saying, is a must-see. It doesn’t take too long to drive through the park, but if you have the time to explore on foot, all the better. Indeed, there are numerous hiking trails in the area, some following the meandering paths of rivers, some taking you up into hilly terrain, where budding geologists can take in the eye-catching contours of dolerite cliffs and sandstone outcrops carved by wind and water into curious shapes. We particularly enjoyed the invigorating walk up to Mushroom Rock (the name says it all), only a few kilometres outside Clarens on the Fouriesburg road. Alternatively, horse riding is a popular choice for those who prefer four-legged transport.  

If you have your passport and can handle the hairpin bends on the winding drive – and if you can set aside a full day or more – a border crossing into Lesotho affords spectacular mountain views and, in winter, snow-covered peaks. For the scientifically-minded (or for those who simply want to know where much of Gauteng’s water comes from), there is also a chance to see the remarkable feat of engineering that is the Lesotho Highlands Water Project, a scheme on a grand scale that was over twenty years in the making. If you don’t have your passport or don’t want to drive for too long, the impressive outfall into the Ash River is not far from Clarens (on the Bethlehem road); on the other hand, if it’s large dams you’re after, Sterkfontein is within reach (just south of Harrismith).

You don’t have to stretch yourself too far, however, as there really is plenty in and around Clarens to keep you occupied. While art-lovers are at the galleries, book-lovers can spend some time browsing through the shelves at Bibliophile, which stocks a fine collection of South Africana (although true bibliophiles will be frustrated that so many of the books are wrapped in plastic). There are antique stores, and wrought-iron merchants, and glass-work sellers, and – well, you get the picture. And when you’re uitgeshop, refuelling is a treat: Clarens is full of bistros and pubs and even the odd deli. We particularly enjoyed the sublime savoury pancakes at Moerdyk’s Pannekoek (next door to the NG Kerk) and the hearty fare at The Street Café (follow the signs promising “Wood-fired pizza”, “Wood fire pizza’s” and “Woodfire pizzas” – it’s at the top of the square).

Finally, no article on Clarens would be complete without making mention of the town’s only entry into Eccentric South Africa ( ). Disney fans and hopeless romantics alike will delight in the “Castle in Clarens”, which is actually quite a few kilometres out of town along a dirt road. This odd construction boasts a “Rapunzel’s Tower” – although I’m sure Snow White would be equally at home there – with the full rococo trimmings. Billed as a dreamy romantic getaway for couples, the Castle’s existence is evidence of the allure of fairytales and fables, or simply of sheer bad taste, depending on your perspective. Either way, it’s worth a visit; if you’re not staying there, you can’t get too close, but you can at least visit the castle “gates” (faux cracks and crumbling plaster included) and read the signs warning that “Trespassers will be taken to the torture chamber”, asking guests “Please remember keys and hand in any lost fairies” and declaring warmly, “Thank you for keeping the fantasy alive!”

Now that’s something. Definitely NOT absolutely nothing. If only my old travelling mates could see it.