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Forbes
3 days ago
- Forbes
Babylonstoren: Why It's The Best Hotel In South Africa's Winelands
'Believe me, I know how lucky I am to be able to live here,' said Morné, as we jolted around another bend in the dirt road, the open-sided jeep catching speed as the slope steepened. Around us, the vineyards shimmered, all green-gold and honey-hued under the last stretch of afternoon light. In the back seat, a gaggle of jubilant, recently retired Belgians swayed in unison, breaking into a spontaneous Dutch folk song. I'd landed here, in the middle of South Africa's winelands, less than an hour ago. We crested the hill just in time for the sun's grand finale. A long, rustic table had been set — cocktails, chilled champagne, and small plates of garden-grown veg whipped into clever tapas. As the last wisps of cloud evaporated, golden hour reached its peak. This was Babylonstoren, a meticulously restored Cape Dutch farm-turned-hotel just outside Franschhoek. Owned by the same team behind The Newt in Somerset, England, it shares the same ethos: botanical beauty, slow living, and a touch of wry luxury. The property reads like a whitewashed village — geese flapping along brick paths, bicycles leaned against cottages, gardeners plucking edible flowers for the evening service. By day, the estate bustles. Day-trippers from Cape Town picking up jars of jams and bottles of vinegar, soaps and handcreams all made onsite. But mornings and late evenings are something else entirely — hushed, dew-soft, and scented with rosemary and citrus. I hadn't even unpacked yet, but I already felt the shift. The kind of place where you find yourself walking slower, eating better, noticing more. I sipped my cocktail and turned toward the view: vineyard rows tumbling down into the valley below. Morné smiled, already pouring the next glass. I believed him. Morné had been working here for a few years. There was a spark in his eye as he surveyed the undulating hills around us, the kind of quiet pride that only comes from being deeply rooted in a place. He pointed out the contours of the land, tracing invisible lines with his hand, explaining how the team had been working to reforest sections of the property with indigenous trees. 'My house is just over that way,' he said, motioning to a low hill blanketed in fynbos, the local shrubland that gives this part of the Cape its unique character. He and Christoff were in charge of the property tours — a task that, I gathered, was less about routine and more about storytelling. Together, they guided guests through the labyrinthine flower gardens, past rows of citrus and pomegranate trees, and into the expansive kitchen gardens where chefs wandered daily, baskets in hand. 'Everything you ate tonight came from just a few hundred metres from this table,' Morné said, almost offhandedly, as if that kind of self-sufficiency were commonplace. But that was the thing about Babylonstoren — it wasn't just a hotel. And the word 'resort' would feel absurd here. It was a working farm first with a handful of rooms and a spa worth bookmarking. The kind of destination where your breakfast egg might have been laid that morning by a hen you passed on your way to coffee. A place that didn't just look sustainable, but was. As the shadows grew longer and the last of the champagne was poured, I began to realize that Babylonstoren wasn't asking you to escape real life — it was inviting you to notice it more fully. They make their own soaps, candles, olive oil, and vinegar too — each one neatly bottled and labeled in the farm's own design language: understated, tactile, elegant. The three restaurants — Babel, the Greenhouse, and the Bakery — all draw almost entirely from what the farm produces. It's not just farm-to-table; it's steps-to-plate. But it's in the in-between hours — when the day visitors have left and the red earth dust has settled — that Babylonstoren reveals something more. The light stays sharp well into the evening, the sky a dusky purply blue that doesn't fade so much as deepen. You begin to see through the layers, past the curated beauty and into something older, more elemental. A glimpse of what life here must have once been. The rooms are set within whitewashed houses — former workers' cottages that now hold freestanding bathtubs, thick linen, and antique wooden wardrobes. The layout of the farm village has been preserved, so each path and stoop still feels lived-in, storied. Mornings are silent but for the occasional crow of a rooster or the hum of a bicycle wheel on gravel. At the end of the path, the spa is a generous, light-filled space, where time unspools. There's an indoor pool tiled in soft green, and an outdoor one framed by vines and fig trees. Scrubs are administered in open-air showers, the kind where you watch clouds drift over vineyards while your shoulders are massaged with apricot kernels. I was staying in one of the houses tucked far from the action, right on the edge of the farm where the landscape opened up and the pace slowed even further. Guests out here were given their own golf carts to get around — half the fun. I spent my evenings puttering along the lake's edge, trying not to crash into the hedgerows while being utterly distracted by the views: jagged mountains rising in every direction, catching the last blush of daylight. The villa itself felt more like a countryside retreat than a hotel suite — generous in size, with a proper living room and a glass-walled kitchen stocked with everything you'd need, from heavy cast-iron pans to boxes of locally blended rooibos tea. There was a rhythm to life here, dictated not by clocks but by the colour of the light. But the real magic happened in the early mornings. That first one — still a little jet-lagged — I stepped out onto the back terrace just after dawn. Before me, a wide, glassy lake, its surface barely rippling, backed by mountains draped in purple mist. I sat there, barefoot on the terrace, sun slowly warming the stone beneath me. Birds darted low across the water. Every so often, a fish would break the surface. The sunlight was so pure, so utterly uplifting, it felt almost sacred. I sat for what could've been hours — motionless, eyes fixed on the view — completely undone by it all. There's plenty to see in the area, Morné tells me, leaning into the passenger window as Peter, the hotel driver, pulls up to take me into Franschhoek. The road winds past vineyard after vineyard — this corner of South Africa is known for its Chardonnay and Syrah, its crisp Cap Classiques, and a winemaking history that dates back to the French Huguenots who settled here centuries ago. Franschhoek itself is compact and postcard-like, a few walkable streets lined with saloon-style restaurants, wine boutiques, and art galleries that manage to feel more lived-in than curated. But it was back at Babylonstoren that the story really stayed with me. On my final morning, Morné walked me through the gardens tended by head gardener Constance who flashed me the brightest of smiles — past the medicinal plants, through the rows of nasturtiums, into the cool, fragrant greenhouse. We passed chefs clipping herbs, gardeners waving from bicycles, staff setting up lunch in the shade of old oak trees. There was a rhythm, a gentleness to it all. What struck me most was how full the place felt; not just in occupancy, but in spirit. Visitors strolled slowly, smiling, feeling lucky to be here. The food was unfussy and full-flavored, the service gracious, and the staff — from the spa therapists to the bakers — seemed genuinely happy to be here. And maybe that's the rarest luxury of all. In a world where so many hotels talk about sustainability, community, and wellness, Babylonstoren somehow makes it all feel natural — like this is simply how things should be. I left it, hailed as the best hotel in South Africa, with mud on my shoes, a Waterblommetjie candle in my carry-on, and a renewed sense of hope: that a large, ambitious hotel can not only tread lightly on the land, but leave it — like its guests — better than it found it.
Time Out
4 days ago
- Time Out
The Overberg Explorer adds new dates for nostalgic rail adventure
All aboard! The Overberg Explorer steam train is back with fresh dates for July and August - inviting travellers to experience the beauty of the Cape countryside in one of the most charming ways possible. This heritage rail journey, operated by Ceres Rail Company, runs between Botrivier Station and the lively Elgin Railway Market, offering a one-hour scenic ride each way through the rolling landscapes of the Overberg. 📅 Trip dates: 5 & 6 July, and 9 August (Women's Day) 🕰️ Departure options: Morning and afternoon return trips 🎟️ Tickets: Adults R295 | Children R180 | Under-3s ride free Passengers have 1–2 hours to explore Elgin Railway Market - a converted apple warehouse buzzing with artisan food stalls, live music and local crafts. It's a wholesome day out filled with nostalgia, family-friendly fun and countryside charm. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Ceres Rail Company (@ceresrailcompany) While Ceres Rail also offers full-day steam trips from Cape Town to Elgin (departing 7.45 am, returning 6 pm), the Overberg Explorer from Botrivier is a shorter, more flexible option. It's ideal for those wanting to skip the day-trip train journey and instead base themselves in the Overberg for a slower-paced winter escape. Why overnight in Botrivier? Just 90 minutes from Cape Town, Botrivier is a small town with big soul. Surrounded by vineyards and rugged mountains, it's known for its warm hospitality, characterful wine farms, and proudly off-the-grid attitude. It makes the perfect base for a relaxed overnight or weekend stay, where you can enjoy winemaker-led tastings, local farm fare, and misty morning views before hopping on the train to Elgin and back. The wider Overberg region, stretching from the Hottentots-Holland mountains to beyond Caledon, is one of the Western Cape's most underrated destinations. Whether you're in it for the rail nostalgia, a foodie market fix, or a countryside getaway, the Overberg Explorer is a timeless winter adventure waiting to happen. Notable Stops on the Way to Botrivier (via N2): Somerset West A gateway to the Helderberg wine region, stop here for a tasting at Vergelegen or Lourensford, both offering beautiful gardens, restaurants and historic Cape Dutch charm. Strand & Gordon's Bay A slight detour toward the coast gets you sea views, beach walks, and the Clarence Drive (R44) scenic coastal route, ideal if you want a breathtaking drive through to Kleinmond later. It's also the home turf of our now world-famous elephant seal Gordy. Sir Lowry's Pass Climb into the mountains via this iconic pass - pull over at a viewpoint for panoramic shots of False Bay and the Cape Flats below. Grabouw / Elgin Valley This is Apple country with a twist: cool-climate wines, forest hikes, mountain biking and farm stalls abound. Don't miss Peregrine Farm Stall for hearty pies and fresh produce. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Peregrine Farm Stall (@peregrinefarmstall) Houw Hoek Pop in to Houw Hoek Farm Stall or the Houw Hoek Hotel for a tea break or light lunch — it's one of South Africa's oldest licensed hotels and steeped in charm. So there you have it. These stops make the road tip to Botrivier worth savouring, whether you're stocking up on local treats, wine-tasting en route, or stretching your legs with a scenic view.
The South African
14-05-2025
- The South African
Six things to do in Franschhoek
Tucked into the heart of the Cape Winelands, Franschhoek earns its nickname – 'the France of South Africa' – with good reason. Settled by French Huguenots in the late 1600s, this small valley town fuses European flair with South African soul. Think vineyard-covered hills, fine food, and quiet streets lined with galleries, cafés, and Cape Dutch architecture. Here's what to do in Franschhoek if you want to experience it right… Franschhoek is wine country at its finest. Dozens of estates produce award-winning wines – especially Cap Classique, South Africa's sparkling answer to Champagne. The best way to sample them? Hop aboard the Franschhoek Wine Tram. It loops through the valley with stops at top wineries like La Motte, Haute Cabrière, and Boschendal. No need to drive, no need to rush – just ride, taste, and repeat. This town punches far above its weight when it comes to food. Franschhoek is a culinary powerhouse, home to some of South Africa's top restaurants. For fine dining, book a table at Le Coin Français, Epice, or Protégé. For something more relaxed, grab a shaded spot at the Village Market or sip rosé with a farm-to-table lunch at Babylonstoren. Either way, the food is fresh, the wine is flowing, and the views are stunning. 3. Dive into the Huguenot history The French roots of Franschhoek aren't just a vibe – they're real! Visit the Huguenot Memorial and Museum to get the backstory on how these Protestant refugees helped shape the area. The gardens surrounding the monument are peaceful and worth a stroll. Franschhoek isn't just for wining and dining. The Mont Rochelle Nature Reserve offers hiking trails with sweeping views of the valley below. If you're feeling more active, rent a bike and pedal your way from one vineyard to the next. The landscape is generous, green, and never flat for long. On the edge of town, tucked inside the L'Ormarins estate, you'll find a gearhead's dream: the Franschhoek Motor Museum. It's packed with over 200 classic cars, from vintage Rolls Royces to iconic Ferraris. Even if you're not into cars, the collection is impressive enough to convert you. Franschhoek's creative streak runs deep. Small galleries are scattered across the village, showcasing everything from fine art to handmade ceramics. The annual Art Franschhoek festival is a great time to visit, but even on a quiet weekday, you'll find inspiration around every corner. Let us know by leaving a comment below, or send a WhatsApp to 060 011 021 1 Subscribe to The South African website's newsletters and follow us on WhatsApp, Facebook, X and Bluesky for the latest news.
Sydney Morning Herald
09-05-2025
- Sydney Morning Herald
I hate dung and donkeys. Then I discovered the world's best farm visit
The revived farm hovers around the late 19th century, just before electricity and motor vehicles changed everything. My first stop is the Cape Dutch farmhouse, which is surprisingly fine: piano in the parlour, four-poster bed and William Morris wallpaper in the main bedroom. The detail is superb, from the antique Lee Enfield rifles on the office wall to the embroidered heritage textiles in the bedrooms. The functioning kitchen has gadgets newfangled in their day, such as cast-iron fruit peelers and a coffee grinder. So far this is my kind of farm, where I can talk history with costumed staff members and imagine myself teleported to another era without its nasty bits. Yet everything is fully functional at Soetmelksvlei. Bread is baked in the farmhouse kitchen and offered to visitors slathered in farm-churned butter. The wheat used to make the bread comes from a recreation of a period water mill. The kraal-like courtyard outside the farmhouse is surrounded by functioning stables and workshops. Kids will enjoy the regular activities such as milking cows, churning milk to separate the cream, and clambering up haystacks. These are farm activities that make even me smile. I'm particularly fascinated by the blacksmith's workshop, where blacksmiths use traditional methods to make farm implements and wagons. I spend a good half hour talking to chatty blacksmith Dan Devonshire about how wagon wheels are made, as he produces old-fashioned drill nails on the fire. Adjacent farm buildings have been turned into a wonderful cabinet of curiosities, where I inspect an apothecary's chest, model ships, stuffed animal heads and old maps. The highlight is a Voortrekker-covered ox wagon complete with all its worldly goods: mattresses, pillows, baskets, buckets, lamps, stools, fishing rods, wooden chests and a wine barrel. It looks as if it's ready to lurch out across the grasslands. Later I head for lunch in the Old Stables, among the oldest surviving buildings on the farm. The walls are hung with old farming equipment, and water bottles cool in a drinking trough. Meat is being roasted and cauldrons of stew bubble in the fireplace. This is my kind of farm. I haven't been bitten, muddied or pestered by flies. But I've learnt plenty, and enjoyed a mighty fine morning. THE DETAILS
The Age
09-05-2025
- The Age
I hate dung and donkeys. Then I discovered the world's best farm visit
The revived farm hovers around the late 19th century, just before electricity and motor vehicles changed everything. My first stop is the Cape Dutch farmhouse, which is surprisingly fine: piano in the parlour, four-poster bed and William Morris wallpaper in the main bedroom. The detail is superb, from the antique Lee Enfield rifles on the office wall to the embroidered heritage textiles in the bedrooms. The functioning kitchen has gadgets newfangled in their day, such as cast-iron fruit peelers and a coffee grinder. So far this is my kind of farm, where I can talk history with costumed staff members and imagine myself teleported to another era without its nasty bits. Yet everything is fully functional at Soetmelksvlei. Bread is baked in the farmhouse kitchen and offered to visitors slathered in farm-churned butter. The wheat used to make the bread comes from a recreation of a period water mill. The kraal-like courtyard outside the farmhouse is surrounded by functioning stables and workshops. Kids will enjoy the regular activities such as milking cows, churning milk to separate the cream, and clambering up haystacks. These are farm activities that make even me smile. I'm particularly fascinated by the blacksmith's workshop, where blacksmiths use traditional methods to make farm implements and wagons. I spend a good half hour talking to chatty blacksmith Dan Devonshire about how wagon wheels are made, as he produces old-fashioned drill nails on the fire. Adjacent farm buildings have been turned into a wonderful cabinet of curiosities, where I inspect an apothecary's chest, model ships, stuffed animal heads and old maps. The highlight is a Voortrekker-covered ox wagon complete with all its worldly goods: mattresses, pillows, baskets, buckets, lamps, stools, fishing rods, wooden chests and a wine barrel. It looks as if it's ready to lurch out across the grasslands. Later I head for lunch in the Old Stables, among the oldest surviving buildings on the farm. The walls are hung with old farming equipment, and water bottles cool in a drinking trough. Meat is being roasted and cauldrons of stew bubble in the fireplace. This is my kind of farm. I haven't been bitten, muddied or pestered by flies. But I've learnt plenty, and enjoyed a mighty fine morning. THE DETAILS
