First impressions

Brackenburn was at the very end of a gravel track that ended at a firmly closed farm gate.
I hopped out of the yellow Isuzu bakkie and swung the gate open, drove through and closed the gate. A Boubou Shrike called in the bush next to the gate and a pair of fish eagles circled high overhead. The pungent smell of forest hung close as we drove down the long entrance way. There were tall trees and in the air the scent of newly mown lawn grass.
Pulling up behind the rambling zinc roofed homestead, Mom and I climbed out of the bakkie and took in an amazing scene. To the south, the forested foreground fell away dramatically to deep gorges and hills, beyond these the expanse of open bay filled out. On the right, stretching into the bay lay the peninsula of Robberg. Surrounding the back yard, where we had parked, stood various outbuildings and a dog announced our arrival. Loeries (Knysna turaco) bustled about in the surrounding trees.

We were ushered into the homestead, greeted with the smell of floor polish and wood smoke. The rooms were huge with dark wooden ceilings. It was cool and quiet; Quirky and welcoming; Old and enchanting. The lady of the house was flustered but charming.
Standing in the shaded front lawn to the north of the homestead one looked out over more dense forest and deep gorges towards the unbroken range of Tsitsikamma Mountains, with Mount Formosa taking centre stage. The expanse of lawn stretched down to another rickety farm gate and on to sheep fields and more endless beautiful views across the forest. The Buffels River wound its way through the gorges. One could hear the river from the lawn, as one could hear the waves breaking on the rocks on the shoreline.