AT the top of the Swartberg Pass there is a turn-off to the Gamkaskloof, or as the signpost says rather cryptically: Die Hel. Until two weeks ago I had never been there.
Someone once said only two types of vehicle drive into Die Hel – 4x4s and Avis cars. Hearing this my better half - predisposed to things more geo-technical and mechanical - immediately sensed a challenge.
So there we were – a few months later - in our little Cleo ready to descend into Die Hel. To be honest, it was a lot easier than I expected, just like the dominee used to tell us in Sunday school.
Once in Die Hel our brave little car hop-scotched her way over river stones, through dense thorn bushes and soft sand to nature conservation’s information office where we – amongst other things - bought a book on the history of the valley.
There I found the story of the first car in Die Hel: a battered Morris V-8. This bit of trivia would not have been half as interesting were it not for the fact that the car arrived in 1958 and the mountain pass into the valley, was only completed in 1963.
But what really grabbed my attention was the fact that the car was bought and donated by a man from Wellington.
In 1958 visitors and residents alike either entered the secluded valley by foot or by donkey; and usually along the Elandspad or the infamous Die Leer. The valley is so remote that even today the valley’s nearest towns – Prince Albert and Calitzdorp - are more than two hours away.
The road and pass in Die Hel was completed in 1963, and until then everything, including fuel, hardware and furniture, had to be carried into the valley.
In 1958 Ben van Zyl of Wellington visited the kloof and befriended one of its more colourful residents, Martiens Snyman.
A few months later Van Zyl was back in the Boland and in Tulbagh on business where he saw an old Morris for sale for £15.
The car was in running condition, but in anything but mint condition. It had no lights, no windscreen and no roof, but somehow Ben van Zyl thought it would be perfect for the people living in Die Hel.
He immediately wrote a letter to Martiens Snyman to inform him of the purchase and made arrangements to meet the kloofers on 10 October at Boplaas on the outer edge of the Gamkaskloof.
On the arranged date, Ben van Zyl, his twin brother Dirk and the Morris met up with Snyman, a sizeable portion of Die Hel’s able-bodied men and four donkeys.
Dismantling the car was out of the question. The donkeys were harnessed in front of the Morris to pull, and behind them, eleven men were positioned to lift and push the vehicle over the rough terrain.
That arrangement took care of the first three kilometres of their journey.
At Venterskrans the donkeys were out-spanned because the going was simply too rough. Here the men negotiated the large boulders and steep rock faces by lifting the car and pushing it forward as if it were a wheelbarrow.
Even the deep soft sand of the Gamka River did not deter the men, although the effort required to get across the river bed, did inspire a coffee break with a considerable amount of versterking to bolster their resolve.
Thus fortified they carried the Morris all the way into Die Hel and with a triumphant gun salute set the car down onto the valley’s gravel road.
The feisty little car had not only survived the ordeal, but was also in perfect working condition. In no time residents were lining up for a drive, and the proud owner Martiens Snyman was only too happy to oblige.
Later the Van Zyl brothers’ departure was celebrated with another gun salute and a round of fire water and more hearty handshakes.
This extraordinary effort was for a car that would never drive more than 30 km in a single direction, and a car that could never again leave the Gamkaskloof valley. One can only hope it was not too heavy on fuel.
It was an impractical gift at best and an outrageous journey into the remote valley of the gamka or lion, yet the story makes one smile.
In a way it is a story about the brotherhood of man. A celebration of life and the triumph of the human spirit. The spirit of the Van Zyl brothers’ off-beat sense of humour remained with us long after we found our way out of Die Hel, back down the Swartberg Pass and onto the N2.
