While in the eastern Free State, we took a drive to Rustler’s Valley, which had a big colourful sign outside claiming it was “CLOSED!”
So we proceeded forward through the gate and to a collection of burnt down houses standing like sad elves in the night. A man came out of the darkness and greeted us suspiciously. But we smiled, shook hands and he told us of how a fire that had started from someone smoking out bees on the property fled all control and destroyed the houses – burning many people’s ‘important documents’.
The guy showed us to the son of a friend of a man you know how it goes who offered us a night’s stay – ‘you’re welcome to pitch a tent, wherever,’ he said – and it was tempting as I hear the view over the valley is amazing. But we turned down the kind, ganja-calm kid and headed on for the night like three wise men without the third man and only one of us was a man ok nothing like the three wise men.
