The strategic and conservation goals discovered by living off-grid.
While mercifully less punishing than the first, the second year was no less dramatic. There were fewer catastrophes, but plenty of steep climbs and sudden drops.
This was the year we learned to build, not only with timber, steel, and concrete, but with one another. Roles emerged where once there had been improvisation. We spent the year building and repairing essential infrastructure, including carports, roads, and boreholes, and slowly found our rhythm. Even so, we found time to learn about local plants and animals, setting up camera traps and growing our collection of identification guides.
Yet the most intricate construction was never physical. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, we learned to work as a team. We also learned to work alongside people whose hands carried decades of experience, neighbours whose generosity sometimes arrived unannounced, and family whose faith carried us through the inevitable setbacks.
And perhaps the greatest lesson was that the finest teams are never truly finished. They keep adapting and welcoming new people, new perspectives, and new stories.
Amid the business of pouring concrete, mending roads, and managing different perspectives, another quieter education was unfolding: the land itself was asking for our attention. With reliable internet, hot showers, smooth roads, and good drinking water finally in place, we could focus on what had drawn us here in the first place.
From the moment we laid eyes on Haumanskloof’s pristine landscape, we knew it was worth protecting. We wanted to honour the ecological principle that everything is interconnected, and believed steady observation would take us far. Our ultimate goal, however, was to formally protect our new home for future generations. We worked with CapeNature and hired Conservation Outcomes to guide us through the Biodiversity Stewardship process, a national programme aimed at establishing formal protection agreements between private landowners and the state.
After a promising desktop study, specialists were invited to survey our slopes to confirm what we suspected was an exceptional landscape. They arrived with notebooks, practised eyes, and the enviable ability to identify extraordinary things that the untrained observer might dismiss as merely “green”.
Remarkably, Haumanskloof qualified for Nature Reserve status, a higher level of protection than we had hoped for. This was due to several “clinchers”, including the presence of endangered vegetation types, critical biodiversity areas, threatened species, and important water sources, as well as its strategic connectivity. Protecting these features builds resilience in the landscape, which is increasingly important in a changing and uncertain climate.
This gave our vision of welcoming guests a clearer purpose. If they were to come and experience the splendour of these mountains, then their presence could never be at the expense of the landscape itself. Hospitality and conservation, we realised, were not opposing ambitions but inseparable companions. The privilege of sharing this place demanded an equal commitment to protecting it, so that its marvels might endure long after our own time here.