For years now the Cape peninsula has drawn travellers who – either by educational misadventure or apparent disinterest – have ventured forth in the mistaken knowledge that Cape Point is indeed that continental southern endpoint.

Perceptions. More often than not it’s that thing that determines whether or not we watch a just-released movie or try a new dish. It’s also what steers us towards or away from new destinations.

If we look beyond South Africa’s school textbooks and the shoddy marketing organisations entrusted with spreading the good tourism word, it’s easy to see that Cape Agulhas has been fairly screwed by misperception.

Driving east along the N2 from Cape Town towards the Garden Route, convenient, easy-to-reach destinations literally fall off the map, from Hermanus all the way through to Knysna and Natures’ Valley. It’s a case of literally flashing the indicator and you’re there.

Cape Agulhas, on the other hand, is a relative case. It ‘demands’ a drive of little over an hour from the N2 Bredasdorp off-ramp to get there.  But once you get past the occasional dodgy examples of boere-baroque holiday-home architecture, there’s a very good chance you’ll feel like we did. A bit like a puppy with a new toy. Or our Fynn with a model spitfire…

Spared said architecture, we ended up in a virtual opposite – very trendy accommodation, right across the road from the ocean. Named Ocean Art House (http://www.agulhasoceanarthouse.com/), it’s an art gallery-cum-guest house with a staircase. And a café.

Owned by a successful German sculptor and painter (we googled him) – Rudi Neuland and his wife, Anna, also an artist – you could question our choice. It wasn’t just Ali and I – we had three year-old Fynn and our newborn Saskia along for the ride. Note to self: don’t suggest to a new mom that she leaves the nest that soon.

I can’t quite understand what the hormones do to a new mother, but venturing into the relative unknown might be akin to a middle ages new Mom heading out in a creaking wagon (our car isn’t new) to her cousin’s village half a day’s ride away. Nevertheless, the sense of relative adventure and exploration was in our nostrils – with Fynn my ever-willing accomplice and Saskia buried in her Mom’s pouch.

We soon fell in love with Agulhas. For starters, the lighthouse is fantastic. Fynn loved the climb up the narrow staircase to the top – almost as much as he took to following Rudi around while overseeing renovations at the guesthouse.

We also learnt that the village is actually called L’Agulhas (the Franco-Portuguese reasons for which you can google), and that over 150 ships have sunk off the coastline. The jagged rocks that face out to the southern ocean tell the story of every one of those vessels. In marked contrast are the relatively gentle rolling breakers of Struisbaai – the bay, a literal jog around the corner.

Characterised by gentle rollers, it’s a white, sandy beach over 25 km long, anchored by a tiny fishing harbour, a lighthouse and a restaurant. Swimming right up to curious onlookers amongst the small fishing boats are a group of habituated eagle rays.
This is a beach quite simply as beautiful as any other, provided you don’t mind the absence of palm trees and coconuts.

I’m not overly fond of the thick-steak nature of the geelbek fish on offer at the outdoor little eatery in the harbour, but that’s the fish that was running, and what the local fisherman had caught. In L’Agulhas itself we had both awful and wonderful calamari.

Thirty minutes inland is Elim mission station village. With an old church and slave bell and inhabited by descendants of its unfortunate earliest inhabitants, a Sunday morning service is a welcome step back to a gentle pace, with not a tourist in sight.  Made of thatch, centuries’ old thick walls, a water-wheel and a slave-bell, Elim is peaceful place, where jobs aren’t plentiful, buildings approach neglect with reluctance, and the sense of community is strong.

The service is in Afrikaans, and I think I pick up a hint of fire ‘n brimstone in its delivery. The local brass band is a treat.

We’re told of the emerging wine farms down the road – the ocean breeze makes for a crisp and dry sauv blanc. But the odd Cape habit of estates closing on weekends rules against us, and for us there will be no wine after church.

Much like the Cook Straits or Hadrian’s Wall, you just know that big things have happened around Cape Agulhas, that you’re in a geographically momentous spot. If it leaves you curious, ask for Alison at the local tourism office – she will leave you enthused.

www.tourismcapeagulhas.co.za