54.23 Drakensberg: Features at the Retreat and elsewhere: Carpe Diem, Gail and Mannie, wherever you may be. 54.24 Dumbe, a massive farm close-by.

We think the scenes, well some of them, from the Drakensberg Retreat, provide proof that we inhabit a beautiful world. A low-key approach without big scenes but rather ordinary views grow upon a person until ones realizes one is actually witnessing the big views after all. Heck, it really is a privilege to witness what seems ordinary until one realizes nothing is ordinary—seek and you shall find, spend time outdoors, and they will find you. 

Jen and I feel privileged knowing that each day, we will see or experience something special. We remember the early days, we wondered whether there would be anything worthwhile on view, particularly after a spectacular outing. Then, not long after this initial erroneous thought, things changed. Keep the senses tuned, spend time outdoors or at worst, peer through a window, and we know we will witness, if not a miracle, something close to it. 

May all blessed with the health to appreciate life, seize it. 

On the way out of the building to find us a mountain after completing 12 years of Hike-about. Many asked us in the initial years how long we intended to pursue this nonse...um...activity. Looks like we reached a dozen thus far. Here's hoping... 

Calm in the wilderness. 
An eland enjoying the grass close to the Retreat. (The grass is always 'yellower' on the other side.)
The Amphitheatre.
Continuing south from above photograph. Cathedral Peak comes into view. We reached it when we were younger, stronger and less wise.
Climbing in the mountains beyond Dumbe. If asked, I would say this scene depicts what Hike-about is all about. In fact, what a relationship should strive to be. We fall short but keep trying.
Surprised to find such color beyond Dumbe to the side of the Retreat.
A 'tame' wild horse. Go figure!
Mountains reflect?
A big mountain/lake scene.

'That box you keep pointing at me is beginning to get to me, Son'.
'We've looked at clouds from both sides now...'.
'Morning has broken, light the first hour.' (Cathkin Peak on the far left.)
When we were growing up (presumes it occurred), we called this necking.

Cheers, 

Jenni and Jeffrey