The Road to Rusticana: Two Decades, Two Travellers, and 35,000 Kilometres

The transition from the shadow of Table Mountain to the sun-drenched plains of the Northern Cape is not merely a change in geography; it is a shift in the very soul of a traveller. For some, a 581-kilometre drive is a gruelling task to be endured. For my son and me, over the span of 19 years and eight months, it has become the fundamental architecture of our relationship. Since 2006, we have covered 34,860 kilometres. To the casual observer, that is a sequence of numbers on a spreadsheet. To us, it is a mosaic of every sunrise over the Piekenierskloof Pass, every roadside coffee shared in the biting winter chill of the Karoo, and every arrival at the gates of Rusticana, our 1940s farmhouse in Brandvlei.

When we break down the mathematics of these two decades, the scale becomes almost surreal. A single round trip—Cape Town to Brandvlei and back—is 1,162 kilometres. To have achieved a cumulative distance of 34,860 kilometres means we have completed this odyssey dozens of times without a single missed beat.

To understand the magnitude of this distance, one must look beyond the borders of South Africa. If we had taken this total distance and applied it to different global and celestial scales, the results are humbling:

The Trans-Siberian Scale: The Trans-Siberian Railway, the longest railway line in the world, stretches about 9,289 km. Our commute to Brandvlei and back has covered that distance nearly four times over.

The Great Wall: The Great Wall of China is approximately 21,196 km long. We have driven the equivalent of the entire length of the Wall, turned around, and driven more than halfway back again.

The African Longitudinal Trek: The distance from Cape Town to Cairo is roughly 10,000 km via road. We have essentially driven the entire length of the African continent three and a half times.

The Satellite View: Low Earth Orbit (LEO) begins at an altitude of about 160 km. Our 34,860 km could have taken us into space and back down to Earth 108 times.

In the tapestry of family life, schedules often clash. Work, school, and social obligations frequently mean that family trips are missing one or two members. However, in the history of our ownership of Rusticana, there has been a singular, unbroken constant: my son and I have never missed a trip.

In August 2006, when we first took ownership, he was a five-year-old child, his feet barely reaching the edge of the car seat. He saw the world through the lens of wonder that only a young boy possesses. Back then, Brandvlei was a land of giants and dust. Today, as he approaches his 25th birthday, he sees it through the eyes of a technical professional—a partner in the complex machinery of rural property management.

The road has been a classroom, and between the ages of 5 and 25, a human being undergoes a total metamorphosis. We have moved through the phases of childhood stories, the quiet introspection of the teenage years, and into the professional, high-level technical discussions of adulthood. The cabin of our vehicle has served as a boardroom, a confessional, and a sanctuary. One cannot discuss the journey without discussing the destination. Rusticana is not just a house; it is a living entity that demands respect and labour. Built in the 1940s, it carries the architectural DNA of a different era—thick walls, high ceilings, and a stoic resistance to the harsh Northern Cape climate.

Every kilometre of that 34,860 km total was driven with a purpose. Many of those trips were “heavy” trips, laden with the tools of restoration:

Infrastructure: Moving tons of premix concrete to stabilise foundations.

Modernisation: Designing a 16-channel CCTV system and solar backup components to bridge the gap between 1940s charm and 2026 security.

The Lifeline: Carrying the piping and fittings required to overhaul sewage and water lines—work that often took place over long Easter weekends when the rest of the world was resting.

We didn’t just drive to a house; we drove to a project that has defined our family’s legacy. Each 581-kilometre stint northward was a commitment to the idea that some things are worth preserving, no matter how much “road” it takes to get there.

There is a meditative quality to the Northern Cape landscape. As you move past Clanwilliam and Vanrhynsdorp, the greenery of the Cape gives way to the vast, open-throated roar of the Karoo. The horizon stretches until it feels like you can see the curvature of the Earth. For my son and me, this landscape has been the backdrop of our lives. We have seen the Brandvlei region in its most unforgiving droughts, where the ground cracks like parched skin, and we have seen it after the rare, transformational rains when the desert blooms with an almost defiant beauty.

This environment teaches patience. You cannot rush the restoration of a 1940s farmhouse, just as you cannot rush the 581-kilometre drive. You have to respect the pace of the land. Our 34,860 kilometres are a testament to that patience. We have learned that the best things—whether they are a well-restored home or a rock-solid relationship between a father and son—are built incrementally, kilometre by kilometre.

As we stand in 2025, looking back at nearly two decades of travel, the number 34,860 feels less like a distance and more like a badge of honour. It represents thousands of hours of shared music, debates over engineering solutions, and the silent companionship that only comes from knowing someone’s presence as well as your own.

We are not finished. There are more pipes to lay, more digital infrastructure to install, and more sunsets to witness from the porch of Rusticana. The odometer will continue to turn. Perhaps in another decade, we will be calculating our distance in terms of a full trip to the Moon.

But for now, we celebrate the 34,860 kilometres that brought us here. It is a distance that spans the gap between a boy and a man, between a city and a sanctuary, and between a house and a home. The road to Brandvlei is long, but when you are travelling with the right person toward a legacy like Rusticana, every kilometre is a privilege.