Chris de Burgh always has been one of my favourite song mates. Apart from one song, which I will get to, there is probably not a song of his I do not like. It is not just his music. To me, it was that at a time when people were singing about Love Train and Barracuda, he stepped out and was controversial. And me being me, I like controversial – in case you did not know. But, less about my wild side and back to Chris.

His very first album ever was called Far Beyond These Castle Walls. It was recorded in 1974, and gave us gems such as Hold On, Windy Night and Satin Green Shutters. His great voice, his story telling ability, taking you back to middle ages and dropping you into fairy tales, makes every song worth it. And so it is that I persuaded Colin that one simply could not miss the opportunity of seeing a castle for yourself. Now, anyone who has travelled to Europe will know all about castles, but few people seem to know about castles right here in our country. So, to pick up from where I left off last week in Cape Crawl, we went to Knysna this past weekend. I was hoping to see snow, remember? In the end I did not, but I did see castles. Real ones but built on a beach.

Google Maps calls this place Knoetzie, with a K. The local conservationists prefer to call it Noetzie, with no K. Either way, the name is derived from a Khoi-san word, Noetziekamma, that means dark water. This is most probably a reference to the almost black tannin rich water that flows from the nearby river. I had heard about this place but have never bothered to travel to it. Here is our chance, I said. Let’s go find it. Aunty Google took us to a turn off. Once you get there, dearies, she said, you turn left and follow the road for another 7kilometers, and there you will find the hamlet of Knoetzie. We did what she said, and here was the first surprise.

The turnoff, you know the one to the left, well, it was there, but it took us straight into a raw African Shanty Town. A little shocked, Colin and I just gave each other the wide eyed look, but before we could agree to rather turn back, Colin’s attention was rudely pulled back to the road, as there was an extremely big and important looking red rooster firmly planted in the middle of what I suppose Google Maps would call a road. And this rooster was on for a game of “Chicken.” He was not going to move for us. Last minute he did change his mind and scattered off before he became somebody’s Coc Au Vin for supper. Having come this far, we pushed on. I know that sounds brave, but the truth is more like there was nowhere to turn around. Having left the shanty town behind us, we next saw the biggest pile of domestic rubble imaginable. Oh, said I. This must be the town’s land fill site, which will explain the informal housing. Well, that thought did not hang around very long, because right there, in very big black on white letters was a sign: No dumping allowed. I wonder who they were trying to fool? So, Colin and I pushed on.

As promised, we eventually reached a small car park which confirmed to us that we had reached Knoetzie, with the K scratched out. Ha! I said. Told you there was a place called (K)Noetzie. Beside the Noetzie, with a deceased K, was another sign. Footpath. It was not a footpath. It was a slippery downhill slope. Oh boy. Part of me said that this was a bad idea. The other part said: Oh, go on. I listened to the brave part and reached the end of the pathway, at which time there was a sign: Steps to the beach. It is only a hundred-odd stairs, which is easy. These stairs, however, were more of a collection of haphazard stumbling blocks. I also doubt that it was only a hundred. It felt more like one thousand. Was it worth it, you ask? Oh, yes.

(K)Noetzie is known for the stone castles built on the beach. These dwellings were built close to a century ago and there are five of them. At some stage, I believe they did become ruinous, but have since been saved, rebuilt, expanded, and preserved. There is an access track for the few residents that leads down a mountain, and from there onto the beach, where you can drive along the beach to the front of your castle. Finding the castles was such a Chris de Burgh moment, it had me humming the entire Far Beyond These Castle Walls albums to myself. The downside? Just as there is only one way down, there is only one way up. Going back up the stairs, I decided to break it up into smaller journeys. Ten steps, followed by a short break. Then another ten steps. After my third set of tens, Colin gave me that look that says: exactly how long is this going to take? Which is why I pushed myself the next time and aimed for twenty steps, before I stopped for a break. I got as far as step 18, when Colin in a let us describe it as a sexy, husky, breathless whisper asked: why did you not stop after ten steps this time? It is now three days later, and I still walk with a slight limp. My thigh muscles are taking a little longer than expected to recover.

So then. The Chris de Burgh song that spoilt it for me. The one I do not like; you want to know? Oh, it was when controversial turned corny. Something about a Lady in Red.