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๐—ฉ๐—ถ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐˜€ ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฑ ๐—ฆ๐˜๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ถ๐—ฒ๐˜€ โ€“ ๐—” ๐—™๐—ฎ๐—บ๐—ถ๐—น๐˜† ๐—™๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—บ ๐—ถ๐—ป ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ฆ๐˜๐—ฒ๐—น๐—น๐—ฒ๐—ป๐—ฏ๐—ผ๐˜€๐—ฐ๐—ต ๐—›๐—ถ๐—น๐—น๐˜€

  • May 13
  • 2 min read

Over the past three decades Iโ€™ve spent much of my life on the road across Southern Africaโ€”quietly collecting moments that never made it into brochures.


Iโ€™m turning those days into a 12โ€‘volume series:๐—” ๐—ฌ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐—ฟ ๐—ถ๐—ป ๐— ๐—ผ๐˜๐—ถ๐—ผ๐—ป โ€“ ๐Ÿฏ๐Ÿฒ๐Ÿฑ ๐——๐—ฎ๐˜†๐˜€ ๐—ถ๐—ป ๐—ฆ๐—ผ๐˜‚๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐—ป ๐—”๐—ณ๐—ฟ๐—ถ๐—ฐ๐—ฎ


One book per month. One chapter per day. Each a single, real moment.

So far Iโ€™ve shared:ย 


A September morning with Southern Right whales in Hermanus.

A lowโ€‘level flight home along South Africaโ€™s West Coast.


This weekโ€™s excerpt steps into my own family story in the Cape winelands:


๐—ฉ๐—ถ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐˜€ ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ฑ ๐—ฆ๐˜๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ถ๐—ฒ๐˜€ โ€“ ๐—” ๐—™๐—ฎ๐—บ๐—ถ๐—น๐˜† ๐—™๐—ฎ๐—ฟ๐—บ ๐—ถ๐—ป ๐˜๐—ต๐—ฒ ๐—ฆ๐˜๐—ฒ๐—น๐—น๐—ฒ๐—ป๐—ฏ๐—ผ๐˜€๐—ฐ๐—ต ๐—›๐—ถ๐—น๐—น๐˜€


18 September (short excerpt)


โ€œSome wine farms you arrive at as a guest.Others you arrive at like youโ€™re driving into an old family photograph.โ€


We turn off a main road in Stellenbosch onto a smaller lane that threads between blocks of cabernet and chenin. At the end of it, halfโ€‘hidden by trees, lies a place that anchored my motherโ€™s family for most of a century.


Stellenrust.


In the late 1920s my greatโ€‘grandfather, Richard Stuttaford, bought and consolidated land here. The tract was then known as Rustenburghโ€”confusing in a valley that already had another major estate called Rustenberg. To fix the constant mixโ€‘ups with mail and deliveries, he renamed the farm in 1928: Stellenrust, โ€œfinding rest in Stellenboschโ€.


On this September day, I bring guests โ€œhomeโ€ there for a private barrel tasting and a simple lunch on the lawn next to a 30โ€‘metre pool fed by the river. We taste young cabernet straight from French, American and Eastern European oak, see how the same juice becomes three different accents, then sit under the trees with roast chicken and salad while I tell them about long summer days in that riverโ€‘pool and early dinners in the kitchen where children ate separately from adults.


If youโ€™d like to read the full draft chapter, you can ๐—•๐—ฒ๐—ด๐—ถ๐—ป ๐—๐—ผ๐˜‚๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐˜† here:


And if this kind of journey speaks to you, youโ€™re very welcome to travel along with meโ€”one chapter at a time.

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