Houseboating in Lovely lazy Langebaan

The Cape West Coast has a desultory rhythm that’s intoxicating to visitors and loved by locals. Scott Ramsay discovers a new level of relaxation on the houseboat Nirvana on Langebaan Lagoon, where you get year-round sunshine, plenty of silence and an entire national park to yourself.

“There are no traffic lights here!” said Andy Phontshi, the chilled-out boatman who looks after the house-boat guests and who never rushes anything in case he upsets the serene vibe that permeates these parts. If you’re stressed out from the grind of daily life, Andy will calm you down straight away with one of his toothpaste-ad smiles.

It’s likely, though, that you started relaxing as soon as you entered the warmer region of the West Coast. Temperatures are always higher than in Cape Town, 100 kilometres to the south.

Early colonial explorers favoured these waters as a safe haven from the Atlantic Ocean that pounds the outer shore of the lagoon’s peninsula; the only reason Van Riebeek and his crew chose as their base the more tempestuous Table Bay of Cape Town instead of Langebaan was the lack of fresh water. The Dutchman’s decision means that today the area has escaped the ill effects of mass tourism for now.

The lagoon and the peninsula form part of the West Coast National Park, but Langebaan itself is still a sleepy seaside town that’s rapidly turning into one of the more popular holiday destinations. While you can stay on shore and compete for land space, you can’t really do better than stay on a houseboat at Kraal Bay, a 30-minute drive from Langebaan or, if you have a boat, a 10-minute jaunt across the water.

This little bay is the size of a few sports fields and protected from both the summer and winter winds. The nature authorities allow just a few houseboats to moor here and there are two that can be rented out for holiday purposes. Nirvana stands out, not only because it’s double-storeyed, but also because it’s luxuriously equipped. You may as well step into an upmarket apartment, except that on Nirvana the view is 360 degrees, the water is all around you (and under you) and there are no neon lights, noisy neighbours or loud music to disturb your sleep.

You may be tempted, however, to lie awake at night, just to listen to the paradox of the sounds: waves booming onto Sixteen Mile Beach, while just a metre away from your bed you can hear the murmurs of the lagoon’s glassy waters a wonderfully soporific sound.

During the night the houseboat hardly moves, leading you to think that you’re on solid foundations. But then a small gust of wind eases the boat around its axis of mooring and you have a different view outside your window. One morning you can wake up to the glow of the sandy-bottomed lagoon, and the next you might spot an eland on the shore staring insouciantly at you across the water even the animals take it easy around here.

When Andy dropped us off at the end of our stay he was smiling as much as he was when he picked us up. He’s alone on the lagoon for most of the day and night; doesn’t he get lonely out here? “If I do get lonely,” Andy smiled, “I’d rather do it here than anywhere else.”