I recently attended the Splashy Fen Music Festival close to Underberg in South Africa. It is supposed to be South Africa’s premier music festival attended by thousands of music enthusiasts looking for a ‘chilled’ vibe. I had no idea what to expect and to be honest, it was never on my list of things to do over a long weekend. The stories of debaucherous tackle dives of tents, hidden stashes of marijuana and unplanned pregnancies pushed me away rather than drew me in.
Then came the day that a very good friend, Freddy, whom I consider to be my little brother, asked me to support him and his band at Splashy Fen. He wrapped my mind’s picture in a different frame, convincing me to give it a try. How? Well, he appealed to my sense of adventure and my belief that opinions are best when based on personal experience. Oh and I’m fiercely loyal to my family.
My Splashy Experience
The closer you get to Splashy Fen farm, the rougher the roads. I sincerely hoped it wasn’t a metaphor for what was to come.
Upon arrival my car was searched for bottles and (I assume) drugs. The security almost looked disappointed when they came back empty handed. One gentleman (who I swear stopped out of the seventies) asked me why I didn’t have any weed. I wasn’t quite witty enough to come back with a clever answer. I did want to tell him that I think he had had enough for a lifetime.
To my great surprise, it is an incredibly well organised event. Except for the weather, that is almost guaranteed to be rainy and freezing at night. 2017 was no exception. Someone forgot to put in the right order. So I avoided arriving on Friday when the rain was predicted (thank heavens for my YR app). The part I couldn’t avoid was below zero temperatures and frozen windscreens on the Saturday night. If you had the privilege of seeing the size of my bag, you would conclude that I was prepared for these conditions. Basically I brought every piece of warm clothing I own, just in case. But below zero has a way of creeping through your boots and up into your bones.
Two of my girl friends came with me and predictably, if you look incapable enough, some gentleman will offer to help put up your tent. I was staying with my ‘little brother’ Freddy whose tent was already set up, so I just watched the unfolding drama with great amusement. I eventually even hauled out my camp chair and cracked open a beer, the entertainment was that good.
The sun in the Drakensberg has a tendency to bring out the lazy in you. Majestic mountain as a backdrop and the sound of instruments drifting into your ears results in instant relaxation. Add a gin and tonic or a beer and you are ready to just melt into your camp chair and absorb the atmosphere for the rest of the day. It took a few attempts to pries me away from my comfort zone but at some stage I knew I would have to face the masses if I was to really experience Splashy. Over 5000 tickets were sold, that many people in one space, scares the introverted parts of my personality.
As organised as this event is, two things stand out that may put other ladies off coming. The need to don gumboots as part of your attire and the portable loo situation. Now I have to give the organisers credit here. Not one of those toilets ever stank, were constantly cleaned and were mostly in very convenient but not in your face locations. One thing that the organisers cannot help with, is how to approach the portable loo.
There is always the question of ‘where do I put my bag?’. I don’t have an answer, what happens in that box, stays in that box. This is also not one of those situations where girls can ‘go together’ (I don’t subscribe to this typical female phenomenon). A few attempted it but tho looks on their faces after the fact told an unhappy story. Then there is that time of day, when it is dark and you don’t know what lurks behind you and how well you can aim. If you can get over this, Splashy Fen will be a breeze.
Once acquainted with my surroundings, I floated toward the music. The acoustic sounds of a guitar are hard to ignore. With the invitation to lounge on a bail of hay, surrounded by gentle swaying crowds, I soon found my chilled groove. To my left was a large bonfire surrounded by outstretched hands. The flames gently woo the cold bystander to join the growing silhouettes as the sun begins to hide. Behind is the beanbag chill zone, complete with charging stations for the selfie generation that have run out of battery power.
Not long and the Tree House Stage beckons me to explore her wooden benches. It looks like a fairytale with lights strung up in the shape of jellyfish tentacles. It makes no sense and yet it is just right. A kind face offers me a seat, simple introductions and fast I am making friends. Amy has been coming to Splashy since she was 10… that’s a good 20 years. She loves everything about this festival. She is armed with face paint, a way to make strangers into friends and to pass on the ‘let it go’ vibes. I walk away with a smile and a new look.
In this cold, hunger calls faster than a chicken to her hens. My nose guides me to the aroma of chickpea curry which is just the right heat to light a fire inside. Satisfied, I now join the throngs in their quest for the main act – Temper Trap. It is warm under the cover of the tent and around me is a sea of faces waiting and nodding to the same rhythm. The atmosphere of expectation, soon met as the band begins to sing. Familiar and new songs ring out over the crowd and they grab every note as if it was a gift not to let go.
I soon tire of the music and claustrophobia sets in. It is time to find a fire of my own to toast my hands and bum over. In the process of rekindling sensation in my fingers, conversation is ignited amongst my fellow heat huggers. Discussions of best performances, what awaits tomorrow and of course the weather do their rounds. Someone even recognises Freddy from The Voice South Africa. Between songs and warding off the cold, friends of Freddy suggest staying at their farm instead of camping. I don’t need to think this one through, I simply answer yes. I am saved from a night of hypothermia.
Sunday is the last day of Splashy Fen and I eventually find my way down to the River Stage. Around me are all sorts of crazy. People swimming or lazily floating on an inflatable. The wind is 10 degrees Celsius, I think they have already drunk themselves a fur jacket. A game of Frisbee gets a bit competitive and leads to a small injury. There are children darting around with rugby balls and the squeals of joy are unmistakable.
We join the family atmosphere closer to the stage, place weary bottoms on straw and when the beat hits, the dancing starts. Nobody cares, most people join in, bouncing up and down with smiles wrapped around our heads. This is South African talent showcased in a unique surrounding.
The day staggers on and we don’t really want it to end. But this is what I came for. To see my ‘little brother’ perform with one of the most professional bands to come out of South Africa, the Parlotones. I can see his nerves from where I stand at the front of the crowd. Tonight I am a groupie and scream with delight when he steps forward and joins the band. And the crowd went wild at that unique voice.
Other useful things to take note
Here Gumboots (Wellington boots) are a fashion statement and a necessity for the city slicker.
There is a medical tent with paramedics on call 24/7 throughout the event.
Most food and drink vendors have Zapper or Snap Scan. Be aware that cellphone reception is not necessarily that great making payment difficult when it doesn’t work.
There are cash machines available.
The Red Frogs are present and carefully looking after drunk youngsters (and oldsters) with free pancakes and coffee.
Sundays there are a few open mic sessions, so bring your guitar if you are a budding musician.
If I can enjoy this festival…anyone can.
Any thoughts or opinions? Please leave a comment.