The Wild Coast

A small collection of huts sit in a cluster, perched, isolated, atop a rolling green hill that slopes down to an empty beach.

Mdumbi Backpackers hostel is accessible only by the worn dirt roads that meander, bumpily, along South Africa’s Wild Coast.

It overlooks the Mdumbi river, whose forest green, winding body snakes and lightens as it merges with the blue of the sea.

The Wild Coast has certainly earned its name; swelling tides, ragged cliffs battered by the breathless beat of waves, and, sometimes, even sharks.

But, like any parent, mother nature, too, has its gentler side.

Each day is filled with its own unpretentious, effortless beauty: the freshest oysters sold from plastic packets as dolphins surf the cresting waves in the bay.

The name misses the simple serenity of sunlight catching the verdant vegetation, soft grass that ripples in the breeze, empty beaches walked mostly by cattle.