I feel like Christopher Robin dressed for an “˜expotition’: I’m wearing gumboots (a size too small), sporting a headlamp and I’m armed with a fishing net, the kind kids take to the beach. But I am not alone – Bob and Marge (not their real names but they look like a Bob and a Marge) who I met over a yummy ostrich steak dinner in The Dune’s dining room earlier are similarly attired and so is our intrepid guide, Henry. We’re going frogging.
I was meant to go tomorrow night but when I discovered that I would be the only guest at The Dunes then, I chose to go along with Bob and Marge who were friendly and chatty. They hail from the UK and I’d place them in the 50-something age group.
Sarah, the manageress at The Dunes, waves us off as we trudge outside into the night after Henry, a local young man who is also in charge of The Dune’s veggie garden and worm farm.
As we leave the pool of light cast by the main house’s window and head towards the paddock a short distance down the road, the silence of the velvet night envelopes us. We lower our voices and listen to the sounds of the night. The Dunes is set in 600 hectares of what they like to call “˜pristine’ nature reserve and it does feel like we’re deep in the countryside, yet there is the tang of the sea blended with the evocative scent of the natural vegetation as St Francis Bay is just a few kilometers away.
We clamber over a fence at Henry’s instruction and next thing we’re slipping in-between the reeds and boot-deep in delicious, genuine country mud. Nothing like wellies and mud after dark to bring out the child in most of us!
Sadly, frog season is pretty well over. Instead of the persistent chorus that usually greets guests earlier in the season we can hear one lone, late frog calling plaintively in amongst the reeds.
Henry however spots another almost right away – something he calls a “˜Plat Anna’. He carefully lowers his net but the little frog is too fast and makes its escape. Minutes later Henry breaks a reed off and in the light of our headlamps we gather in awe around a teeny tiny frog perched on it, not much bigger than my thumbnail, which Henry identifies as a Painted Reed Frog.
Over the next 20 minutes or so we get to see a few more of these delightful little chaps and find the soloist sitting on a stick in the water sending out his lonely call. When our lights fall on him he keeps very quiet. We leave him in peace and a few minutes later we hear him again, and another then frog echoes from across the pond.
Henry decides we’ve had our night’s viewing but we head back to the house to check the lawn for any stragglers and I come across a spotty toad about the size of my palm. And here endeth the Frog Safari. Short, but very sweet.
The Dunes is a treasure of a place for nature lovers. The suites are spacious and tasteful with little touches that appeal to me such as the wicker chairs with floral cushion covers on the stoep. Sarah is welcoming and friendly and happy to chat, which is nice if like me you’re travelling alone.
But it’s the unspoiled natural beauty that really seeps in after just a few hours in this environment. I’m not a birder but there are so many birds about that just sitting on the stoep enjoying a glass of Splattered Toad red wine that was waiting in my room (great wine to serve at a place renowned for its work protecting frogs and toads) I see a variety of them and get quite excited trying to identify them with the binoculars and birding books at hand.
The fact that The Dunes is FTTSA accredited adds to my enjoyment. Great care of and passion for the environment is evident everywhere. The staff members seem relaxed but conscientious and it feels good to know that they are employed under fair trade conditions.
The Dunes is definitely somewhere I would love to return to one day. It’s a good place for restoring the soul.
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