Wupperthal is not a place you pass through on your way elsewhere. Three mountain passes and dirt roads that consume tyres for breakfast tend to rule out that scenario. This is the Cederberg, for sure.
But should the visitor plan carefully, exercise patience and take along provisions for the road, the first hint that they are nearing Wupperthal would be the sight of the tall, lush palm and blue-gum trees that stand guard over the settlement. The werf, the locals call it – these buildings date from about 1830.
Tourists usually approach Wupperthal from the direction of Clanwilliam. Anyone who has been here in spring would know that the glorious wildflowers along this route can make the 67 km journey between the two towns seem much shorter than it is.
Arriving in this 190-year-old town feels somewhat like childbirth: you forget all the pain it took to get to this point. Old-world buildings with wood-framed windows and thatched roofs rest in the hollow of a knobbly Cederberg hand, with a pristine little church presiding over everything.
Forget about exploring Wupperthal by car; you have to get out and walk. How else would you get the strong sense that time can indeed stand still? How else would you see and hear water babbling in the furrow at
