Over the road and down the path lies our river. A couple of turns and bends away and it meets the sea. Never complacent to the beauty of our surroundings we are constantly amazed at how lucky we are to live where we do and have a river on hand.
‘Crab Hole’, our swimming spot is where I jumped in, stark naked and eight months pregnant in a celebratory mood over our decision to purchase our funny ramshackled river house.
The river is where Sarah and I (pregnant again) spent long sunny Tuesday afternoons (when the restaurant was closed), playing ‘Mommy Crocodile – Baby Crocodile’, dragging ourselves through the shallow water and sand.
The river is where my hubby spent many painstaking hours by my side teaching me to kite-surf after I sold my restaurant and found time to play.
The river is where hot summer afternoons are spent cooling off with mud-baths and swims when the crowds and wind make the beach a non-option.
The river is what we stare out at while sitting on our stoep drinking our second, fourth or sixth cup of tea as we discuss life, plan our next adventure or just spend time together doing nothing. At times we get to watch the fish eagles hunt and on the rare occasion a buck or even an otto ambles down the river path.
The river is what we wake up to every day.
Chintsa River: 2002 -2012