We went there today, early, for a picnic and swim. In 1665 someone reckoned there might be silver to be mined here. There wasn’t, but the river was dammed in order to check for it, and the dam is a big and glorious lake now. Many, very many, come here to swim and to enjoy a day by water in what is now a Natural Reserve. There can be baboons, there can be snakes, but with the shouts of delight and the ebullience of human voices, an encounter is a rare thing, thankfully.

We arrived with swim kit, dogs, food, a rug, a few towels and we found a space. The space was small and spiky grassed, but it was good enough. We had walked by many larger spots, already taken, even though we came early. We settled. Just behind us, on the slatted walkway, we heard others walk by, also looking for a place to land. You always hope for good neighbours, at this point if you come with two dogs, one a puppy. We found them, or they found us. They also had a pup, a curious but beautiful mix between a terrier and a something else with long legs. She barrelled into our midst, soaking and shaking, eyes bright and we laughed and said hallo. Then our resident pup did the same, only he has a much fluffier coat. I heard, through the big ass grasses, children squeal and chuckle as they cuddled him. That’s the thing about the Silvermine. Although we are all on the same shoreline, we are naturally divided, with these big ass grasses and they are so big ass, a total view block, some even taking out sky. And, yet, we can still, if we want, connect.

We swam, we played table tennis in the water, we watched the dogs swim, catch ball, and all the while the afternoon moved on, tick, tock, as more people came and as others left. I wondered how this place will be when the gates are locked, when the sun is gone and the night falls dark on the Fynbos.

Silver or not, we found it on this very happy day.