My story of Hartford House, Midlands
I have put off writing this story for two years. It is not something I am proud of, but here is my reason.
Two years ago in January, my husband and I were travelling around the Midlands, and a little virus was causing havoc in China but Wuhan was far away.
We fell in love. The fields, the trees, the mist on the rolling hills, and whilst driving through Nottingham Road you take a turn down a road suddenly around the corner one is floored by the mind blowing enomity of the Drakensberg mountains, collosal and majestic. I could not believe my eyes. I was experiencing all the cliches. I was astounded. The Alps did not even have such an impact on me. Surely, this was an experience on par with the wine lands in the Cape, yet only a few hours away from Johannesburg.
Our minds were buzzing with ideas, and on a whim descided to relocate. It was not a week later, and we had found the perfect farm house, beautifully restored, wooden floors, and picture windows. We were going to run Dossier from there, and were hatching up all kinds of lovely plans.
Then a strage little news item was on the radio, a man from Howick, where we were driving through, had contracted Covid whilst in Italy. Mmmmm. Odd. The man we were going to rent the house from on the farm from knew the family, and said it did not seem more than a flu. It was going to be ok.
For our final days in the Midlands we stayed at Hartford House, and I was just in love with the hotel, the garden, the food. We made friends with the GM, Maretha Langenhoven, a power house of a woman, so dynamic and at the same time so much grace. Loviless embodied.
We drove home, planning the logistics of the move, excited about a new life.
As we got back to our property in Johannesburg, my dad decided that it was a great idea for him to fly to George for a break at the beach. By then I was getting nervous, and told him to hold tight and just see what this pesky virus was going to do.
He did not listen, and the rest of the story was well documented in the news. My dad was the first person to pass from the virus in Gauteng. I cannot put into words the shock I went into. This happened before lock down. (Read my story here: gautengs-first-covic-19-death ) And the reality set in that we had inherited a property with eight cottages and a multitude of tennants and acres of lands which needed up keep. I was not going anywhere.
So my stay at Hartford House was my last days of innocence. I think we all have that ONE moment in our minds of what we were planning the day Cyril announced we going into lock down. I was mourning my dad and in isolation, could not attend my dad’s funeral which was attended by five people instead of the 5000 we always envisioned. In my mind, Hartford House will always be my last carefree moment. So I got stuck writing about my experience.
I never wanted to live anywhere but in Johannesburg, but we saw great opportunities for marketing international tourism in the Midlands. We went into forests that would put the Lord of the Rings locations to shame. The hikes. The little coffee shops. The scope and potential of that area is just enormous. I have been many places, but even the Euopean tourists we spoke to on that trip agreed, this was a very special place indeed.
Now the world seem calmer. But as I chat to my friends, I hear stories of utter exhaustion and burn out. So maybe it was kismet that I took so long to tell the story of the Hartford, as we all need a peaceful get away NOW.
“We are the custodians of one of Africa’s most treasured legacies, and in the process of preserving it, we hope to contribute to the area, culture and history of this rich land and continue to write the next chapters for generations that follow,”says proprietor Henning Pretorius.
Hartford farm was discovered by the Moor family almost 150 years ago. A vacant property, they turned it into a home for Sir Frederick Moor, the last Prime Minister of the Old Natal. 70 years later, the property was acquired by Raymond Ellis who bred thoroughbred horses. Wars came and went, but the horses are still part of the beauty of the estate. For the history buffs, here is an interesting read: hartford.co.za/history/
Today, what was once a grand home has become one of the most loved hotels in South Africa.
While we can talk for hours about the beautiful surroundings, the walks to be had and connecting with nature, food is high on the agenda at Hartford. The hotel has been awarded for their food experience for years. The Chef in the kitchen is Paul Antolik who at 34 years already has a trail of successes behind him. There are two experiences The Manor House for main meals and the Tuinhuis for lunches, amogst water features and flowers. Says Antolik, “We live in one of the planet’s great pantries: a world of rich soils, a wonderful climate and bountiful harvests. “In season” and “local”, are our keys. Dinner at Hartford is a spectacular 4 or 6 course tasting menu, served in the grandeur of a timeless dining room, or in the candlelit splendour of one of Africa’s great verandas.” The area has fabulous cheeses, organic vegetables, even a wine farm, Abingdon Wine Estate.
It is proclaimed as amongst the three most outstanding country restaurants on the planet by the senior food critic at The Wall Street Journal.
Rooms have been renovated in the last few months and there are many options, from Family Suites to Garden&Pool suites. It caters for all different stay options.
Weddings and functions are their forte. When we stayed they were setting up a wedding amongst the trees, so incredibly romantic.
What we loved was the many places in and around the Manor House where families and friends sat deep in coversation. At the fire, or on the veranda, over long melas. In a time where we have all been so isolated, it would be the perfect destination to meet loved ones and spend a few days catching up with deep and truthful engagements, not just Zoom and WhatsApps. This is the perfect place to reconnect. A place of extrodinary gardens, immaculate grounds, world class horses and award winning food. Everyone should plan a trip to Hartford House at least once. The return will be inevidble.
