No signal, a storm and the Springboks: A Karoo weekend with heart

As the old saying goes: ’n Boer maak ’n plan. And when the Boks are playing you make a plan to overcome every challenge — even if it means braving the freezing cold, pouring rain and muddy roads to find the one spot on the Karoo farm with enough signal to watch the game.

Like clockwork a mostly dormant WhatsApp group on my phone sprang to life around March.

“Boys, what dates are we looking at?” came the question everyone had been waiting for. It was time for the annual Britzkraal Jagvat — a post-Covid-19 getaway with some friends that grew into an annual hunting trip to the Karoo, complete with its own set of rules and ever-evolving customs.

Every year a good friend, Willem “Houtbeen” Lombard, invites us to his family farm in the Blue Crane Route region where we spend an extended weekend enjoying the quiet of the veld, catching up with mates around a fire with a few drinks, and hunting an assortment of game in the crisp morning air.

But that first question on WhatsApp was quickly followed by a second, and equally important one: “Have you checked the Springbok fixtures?”

The majority of the Eastern Cape hunting season coincides with the rugby season, and there were some valid concerns around missing a Springbok Test match. A clash was unavoidable. Some of the guys had to travel from the Western Cape, others had important work or family responsibilities that could not be moved.

Lacking crucial amenities

The only suitable dates fell right on July 6, the first Test match between South Africa and Italy. While the facilities at Britzkraal are more than adequate, it lacks certain amenities crucial for watching international rugby.

Arrangements were quickly made — Gerhard will bring a TV, Tom will bring an inverter — but the elephant in the room (or rather, on the farm) was the biggest concern. Britzkraal lacked one critical component — reliable signal.

Only one spot on the farm has steady signal, and that is the stoep of an old derelict farmhouse, which has become a makeshift shelter for sheep in the cold winter months.

“Guys, don’t worry. We’ll make a plan,” came the response from Houtbeen.

We had faith in our fearless leader.

Another snag came up in the days leading up to the weekend. Weather reports steadily changed from favourable to stormy, and on the day, as we finished up in the veld to make our way to our soon-to-be open air cinema for the afternoon, the heavens opened up.

Despite being cold and wet, and bordering on miserable, none of us were prepared to give up on the plan. The dirt roads had turned to sludge, and a convoy of bakkies slipped and slid their way down the muddy road to the old abandoned house.

Along the way we found a strange metal contraption, its origin still unclear, and it made for the perfect braai. Before we knew it, Con had a roaring fire going, driving away the cold and misery.

Geo reversed his Navara up towards the stoep. The TV was placed in the back of the vehicle. Geo then carefully selected a flat river rock from a pile nearby to place under the left rear wheel, so that the TV would be perfectly level.

Steady drizzle

With a few taps on his laptop, Houtbeen connected with the TV and we were just in time to watch the men in green and gold sing the national anthem in front of the Loftus crowd as the sun set over the Karoo while a steady drizzle still fell around us.

Kosie quickly busied himself with another Jagvat tradition under the cover of the old house’s tin roof, preparing his legendary braaibroodjies which have become a staple meal for our group.

And just as the whistle sounded for the kick-off I found myself with a cold brew in one hand, a toasty warm braaibroodjie in the other, surrounded by my best friends in one of the most uniquely beautiful moments.

And I honestly don’t think the Boks would have been able to pull off a 42-24 victory without the support of the team at the Britzkraal Jagvat. DM