The plane from Joburg landed in George later than scheduled. Something about high winds and having to “approach the runway from a different direction”, was the tinny explanation from the pilot. Gazing out the windows at the suddenly menacing Outeniqua Mountains, I doubt there was a soul on board who minded.
Once on the ground, it was a pleasant drive down the N2 through Wilderness, Sedgefield and on to Knysna. Scenes of a concrete highway fell away to lush fields and slumbering bodies of water, the naturally lovely signposts of the Garden Route. Our final destination, however, was not the town itself — trendy for its waterfront eateries, loved for the legend of one lonely elephant — but one of its most storied peripheral attractions: the hamlet of Noetzie, about 10 minutes east of town.
Technically it’s a hamlet but really it’s a scattering of holiday homes in an enchanting location: a secluded beach at the foot of a steep headland in a quiet bay, cut off from “the plebs” by a private estate and a leafy nature reserve on one side, the roiling Indian Ocean on the other. At the far end of the beach is a sleepy estuary, where the Noetzie River flows into the sea.
It’s a rare, barely developed wedge of coast that is clearly beloved by locals, who registered a conservancy here in 1999. Alongside the 1,900ha Sinclair Nature Reserve east of the river, the Noetzie Conservancy covers 10.2ha, including the beach and surrounding land, with a mandate to conserve and protect their natural bounty.
To me, even the name sounds like a term of endearment: “Ek het jou lief, my noetzie.” Actually, it comes from “Noetziekamma”, Khoisan for “dark water” — and there's no ominous backstory there, just a reference to the river’s colour, caused by tannins leaching in as it flows through the forest to the sea.
This beach and its dramatic backdrop have been on humans’ radar since at least 1786, when a captain for the Dutch East India Company diarised trekking through the forest from here. But its legendary quirkiness really began in 1930, when one Herbert Stephen Henderson, a Glaswegian mining engineer who’d fought in Rhodesia and had been awarded the Victoria Cross, was building himself a holiday home using locally sourced stone. Because of its basic square shape, a local named Rex Metelerkamp quipped that all he needed to do was throw in a few turrets and he would have a castle. So he did.
The trend caught on and, almost 100 years on, there are at least seven “mock castles” peeking out among the milkwoods and the yellowwoods that loom over the lovely beach. None has ever faced battle, of course, unless you count the odd vicious storm, but they are an oddity that puts Noetzie squarely on many a “hidden gems” and “must-see” list for visitors to these parts.
A fair warning for day trippers, though: the public beach demands grit to get there. A drive down a corrugated dirt road, past an informal settlement, then a punishing hike from the parking lot down steep stairs hewn into the cliff — the official count, I hear, is 134 steps.
I remember holidaying in Knysna as a child, my mother taking us to see the castles. There was a windswept picnic, and me feeling deeply envious of whoever lived in them. I especially remember the sweaty climb back to the car. But I never dreamt I’d be back one day to stand on their ramparts, to sip champagne in the sea air, to dine on something delicious and chat late into the night at a long, convivial table hours after the day-trippers had huffed their way out of there.
They were all private homes back then so it wasn’t a possibility. But now several have been bought by Buccara, a German-based luxury hospitality group, and are open for booking.
Guests, happily, can forget about the hairy road or the hellish stairs. Thanks to a friendly accord with the neighbouring Pezula Estate, our final approach was along well-kept, private paths, past fynbos fields and bankers' mansions dotted in the hills.
At the very end of the road, after a set of mammoth gates and a guard, there was a long pause before the final push down a hair-raising driveway. It felt right that our driver looked intimidated by the incline: castles, after all, should be hard to get to, even when approached on private roads. Valiantly, he made it, and soon our group was standing before a pile of suitcases waiting to hear which castle was whose.
THE PERFECT FIT
In my childhood imagination, a castle was a castle was a castle. But the four available to rent individually (the fifth, Cliff Villa, is only available as an add-on) each have their own identity. If you start with fancying a fortress on a beach, you can still hone in further to the perfect fit. Think of it as a twist on Cinderella’s shoe, or that well-worn Oprah surprise: You get a castle! And you get a castle! And you get a castle!
With the women in our group, I stayed in Craighross. Built in 1999, it is the newest one, rising three storeys alongside the public steps. It is also the one with the most contemporary feel and modern perks such as a temperature-controlled wine cellar and motion sensors on the down lights, which softly rise as you pass by in the pitch dark.
It’s built for groups, sleeping 14 with five en-suites on the ground floor. A tip if you’re sharing: cross swords if you must but try to win the master bedroom on the top floor — a palatial suite dripping with comforts, including a puffy white bed, a lounge area with fireplace and a cavernous en-suite. The pièce de résistance, naturally, is the wall of glass with doors leading out onto the terrace with its sunbeds and king-of-the-castle vistas.
For the social side, you will meet in the middle, with its open-plan living space, kitchen, lounge with fireplace, and tables for dining both indoors and out.
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If romance is the mission, then Honeymoon is “The One”. It's a single-bedroomed, two-storey hideaway where the living happens downstairs — with a lounge, dining area, small kitchen and guest loo — and no-one but you and your paramour need know what happens upstairs between the giant sea-facing windows and the double shower in the en-suite.
Outside is a rustic veranda under a reed canopy with loungers and a small, heated plunge pool — it is one of only two castles with a pool.
Tucked away from the rest round an outcrop of rocks, the 1960s-built Lindsay Castle is not too hot, not too cold but just right for those who like their folklore in the style of the Brothers Grimm — dark, rustic insides; porridge on wooden tables; maybe even a witch in the woods.
With ivy creeping across its exteriors, inside it’s a bohemian, labyrinthine sort of space with thick walls and four-poster beds in the same rooms as the free-standing bathtubs.
Beyond the lancet windows, the sea is a never-ending drama of crashing on rocks. And while a nautical theme appears in all the décor, Lindsay's details are the quirkiest, with relics such as an old diver's helmet and vintage iron portholes on the walls conjuring years-ago escapades, leagues under the sea.
The “main castle”, Pezula was completed in the late 1930s, though the original building has been extensively redone. Its deep, shaded verandas invite lounging on the ground level, alongside the lavender-lined garden and the hands-down best feature for summertime, if you ask me: the swimming pool is large and inviting and a less chaotic cooling-off option than the just-over-there sea.
Inside, there are three bedroom suites, two upstairs, one downstairs. Alongside the dining room, the classically decorated living room put me in mind of the White House. I could picture a first lady passing through, admiring the orchids and subtly repositioning the vases on the mantel.
As it turned out, I was not entirely off. In one corner is a wingback, alongside a photo of Nelson Mandela, sitting in the same chair. Graca Machel, a former first lady of not one but two countries, stands behind him. It was taken in 2008, when the pair spent 10 days here. The chair is no doubt an irresistible photo op for everyone who passes through Pezula, and the downstairs bedroom is named The Mandela Room in his honour.
All of the castles are self-catering but, to really truly let down your hair, you can add a full-board, private chef. Ours spoilt us with a parade of beautifully plated, delicious dishes, with a creative touch to keep the “dietary requirements” among us (the carb-free and the seafood-allergic) from feeling left out.
If you can bear time away, there is lots to do nearby: bungee jumping, kitesurfing, canopy tours, whale watching, deep-sea fishing. You can learn more about local history at the Knysna Museums or pick from a number of hiking trails, including in the next-door Sinclair Reserve, though you will need a permit (phone SANParks in Knysna on 044-382-2095).
A sunset cruise on the lagoon is practically mandatory and if the weather allows you can sail between the two sandstone cliffs they call the Heads out to the open sea. The British Royal Navy once declared this the most dangerous harbour entrance in the world.
Noetzie, incidentally, has its own shipwreck tale, of a three-masted schooner, The Phoenix, that washed up at the river mouth in April 1881. Its masts and rigging were bleached white from the sun, and with no valuables or signs of life on board, it had clearly been adrift for a long time.
It had been previously registered as the Ville Pierre on Réunion and the log showed that it had carried a load of guano in 1876. But no-one ever solved the mystery of what happened to its crew or when or why it was abandoned.
Because of the rules of the conservancy — no alcohol, no loud music, no cars, no disturbing the sand, rocks, fauna or flora — the beach is often similarly deserted. The ocean is rough, though, so swimming is risky. But you can safely get your ankles wet on a wander to the estuary, where the seagulls mill about like old men in tuxedos at a cocktail party. You can go oyster harvesting and do beach picnics and every night soak in a ridiculous sunset.
And if you happen to wake in the predawn and pad out onto a balcony to see the sea lit by moonlight, make a wish for a curse that will have the forest grow so tangled with thorns that no-one can reach you, and you cannot leave. Now that would be a happily ever after.
RATES
Rates are on a self-catering basis. Full board with a private chef is an extra R3,500 pppn.
- Pezula: R 27,000 per night (sleeps six).
- Pezula + Cliff Villa: R32,000 (sleeps eight).
- Honeymoon: R6,500 (sleeps two).
- Craighross: R18,000 (sleeps 14).
- Lindsay Castle: R16,000 (sleeps 12).
SPECIAL OFFER: Book before February 29 and get 15% off the best available rate. For more information or to book, visit their website here.
• Sleith was a guest of Buccara.
