The Pond, and end of the project - at least for now

Portia Widow - one of 10 dragonfly species we have photographed!

The pond, the primary goal of the entire project was actually completed a few months ago already. However, ponds take time to develop life, and much of the surrounding reeds, grass and sedges have taken a little while to establish themselves.

Starting the 'big dig' in mid-November was not the greatest plan. The summer rains were in full swing already, and given the clay content of my soil - it could only mean sludgy mud was inevitable. On a normal day, clay soil is actually quite easy to dig through, far better than stony top soil at any rate. Wet clay soil is also easy to dig through, but that is where the similarities end. One's spade gets stuck, you have to pry the gloop away from the surrounds, its heavy to lift and gets stuck to the inside of a wheelbarrow. After a few loads, you end up 'growing' 2-3 inches as your boots accumulate extra layers underfoot - its thoroughly unpleasant. All this 'work' was voluntary of course, I could have binned the project for the winter at any time - but it gave me pause to think of what those on either side of the Battle of Passchendaele had to live and fight in, for months...

For the better part of three weeks, I'd go outside for an hour or two most afternoons and dig another section. At times I spent half the weekend digging and carting tons of clay out of the hole. The hole progressed fairly well until the 7m mark where a significant rock stratum was discovered. Ultimately, there was little choice but to rework the pond according to this rock layer - we would now have a deep section of 7 metres, a sloping incline of 4 metres and a shallow area of 2 metres. This would work just fine as it happened - the shallow section would get some sedges planted and be the perfect sanctuary for fry and tadpoles. By the time that digging itself had ended, I calculated that a total of 10.5m³ of clay soil had been moved by spade and wheelbarrow - which equates to a shade under 20 tons.

The rain increased in volume steadily over the first weeks of December, culminating in a single downpour that filled the mud hole in less than 20 minutes! With the end in sight, I dedicated a full weekend to finishing the pond. Firstly I needed to install a home made filtration system - an old metal bath that would be counter sunk to one end of the pond and filled with gravel, rock and coarse sand. Then it was a case of pumping out all the rain water to fully empty the pond and dump 20 odd wheelbarrow loads of grass cuttings to line the pond before we could unfurl the 15 metre long plastic liner.

A little plastic liner wrangling was necessary as Kaily and I fought the wind to get the plastic into the pond, before we checked alignment and began filling. The pond would hold just over 10 000 litres of water - about 5 average JoJo tanks worth. We didn't have that much water stored, so we planned to put in around 2 000 litres just to keep the plastic in place, we'd let the rain do the rest. It was a long wait - as the last few weeks of December saw little to no rain... Finally, in early January 2021, the pond over flowed for the first time and has maintained a full to overflowing position ever since. A number of sedges have been planted, the volume of tadpoles has exploded and only a week ago we released 3 young Largemouth Bass into the pond. The bass are far from native species - but they will do the job of maintaining carnivorous order until we can find some native Tilapia species to take over.

Would I spend another 4 months of my life digging marshes and ponds? Absolutely. They have brought a plethora of new life to this once dull and stagnant property - life that keeps us gloriously entertained day or night. Indeed, the pond and marshes have brought another dimension to our appreciation for wildlife, as we have now gotten into 'dragonflying'... Meg, Kai and I have spent a few afternoon snapping away at the various species, having already photographed 10 different species, with at least a further 2 having eluded our lenses so far.

1.   Broad Scarlet
2.   Common Citril
3.   Eastern Blacktail
4.   Jaunty Dropwing
5.   Julia Skimmer
6.   Nomad
7.   Portia Widow
8.   Red-veined Dropwing
9.   Smoky Spreadwing
10. Swamp Bluet

A few days in, only about 1.5m³ 

Digging needed to be done in steps.

Drain, dig, then drain some more...

The muddy gloop at its zenith

20 minute downpour from an afternoon thundershower

Lined with grass cuttings

Kai and dad - almost done (and the bath filter system)

15metres of plastic - its longer than you think!

The initial fill and grass sod lining

How things look today

The marshes and pond - left to grow wild!

Broad Scarlet

Common Citril

Eastern Blacktail

Jaunty Dropwing

Julia Skimmer

Nomad

Red-veined Dropwing

Smoky Spreadwing

Swamp Bluet

Marsh 3 and new life!

Common River Frog

Dig number 3 would be another shallow endeavour dedicated to increasing the marsh space. At 10m long and more than 2m wide, this would be the largest of the marshes for this project, at least for now. With only around 20cm of topsoil to move, the dig was fairly straight forward - taking Kai and I a little more than 3 days. For perspective, the volume of soil removed was around 4.4cubic metres, and given it was quite compact - was estimated to weigh around 7 tonnes, 1 wheelbarrow at a time...

With the hole dug quickly, we had one bit of trouble - we were short on grass clippings that I planned to use as a buffer between the bare earth and the plastic liner. So we needed another afternoon to cut the lawn and get the hole prepared first. In went the plastic liner, followed by some course sand and a few sods of earth to keep the plastic from blowing away. Rain wasn't predicted for a few days, so to speed up the filling process a little - we emptied around 1000 litres of water into the marsh from our JoJo tank.

Filling the marsh with marsh plants on the other hand was going to take a rather monumental effort. Based on the number of truck loads needed to fill the already completed second marsh, I was looking at the prospect of needing nearly 20 truck loads of plants! That wouldn't work, so instead I lined the border with marsh plants whilst filling the inner section with sods of grass and earth - the flufftails and crakes would need some muddy patches to hunt for earthworms and other invertebrates.

The grass either side of the marsh itself would be allowed to grow at will, providing more cover for birds, amphibians and insects. Indeed, within a week of the pond being filled and the first vegetation planted - we had our first dragonflies, numbers that would increase from a mere handful to well over 50 individuals at any one time (species ID to follow one day...). The previously 'devoid of life, nothing but lawn' property had now seen a sudden spike in the amphibian population too, increasing from just one species of toad when we moved in, to at least 6 species that I could readily identify, I'm sure there are one or two more that I am missing. 

1. Gray's Stream Frog
2. Common River Frog
3. Natal Spiny Reed Frog
4. Painted Reed Frog
5. Guttural Toad
6. Snoring Puddle Frog

Post Ed: Birds have started to make use of the pond in decent numbers, with Hadada Ibis bathing every day, Bronze and Red-backed Mannikins drinking and devouring the seeding grass, and even the skulking Burchell's Coucal snagging large insects on his way through the morass.

Basic layout  - with Marshes 1 & 2 in the background.

Border grass removed, to be used later to hold plastic liner down.

Final depth was a little over 20cm deep

Grass clippings for cushioning between earth and plastic liner.

Course river sand and grass sod for weigh.

Border lined with marsh plants.

Open water and marsh edge for dragonflies and amphibians.

Growth increasing quickly.

Painted Reed Frog calling loudly

Gray's Stream Frog (Clicking)

Natal Spiny Reed Frog

Marsh 2

Marsh 2 was always planned to be shallow and full of dense marsh vegetation. With similar dimensions to Marsh 1, this hole would add little in terms of water volume, but produce 6m² of good marsh habitat.

Long term, our plan is to entice Black Crake and perhaps even a young Red-chested Flufftail to take up residence. They both require similar habitats, patches of dense cover, water edge and foraging areas of mud or short vegetation. Whilst only a small patch to start with, this again would be the testing ground for the much larger ‘Marsh 3’ to come.

Digging commenced on a Sunday, removing the grass layer to expose a small volume of topsoil over the much deeper clay. With a target depth of only 20cm, digging didn’t take long – indeed, only a few hours of labour were required late on Monday afternoon to finish the job. Grass trimmings added, the plastic sheeting was laid a few minutes later. Some helpful evening rain even filled the marsh ahead of marsh plant collection.

Despite its small size, filling the pond with the requisite marsh plants, mud and other aquatic wildlife took 6 trips to various locations. To keep my impact down to a minimum, I collected material from degraded or heavily disturbed seeps and drainage ditches within the area during the late Autumn, before the growing season had started.

Post Ed – a few months after planting and the increased rainfall, light hours and temperatures have spurred on growth. The marsh is now exactly as intended with plentiful cover and an ever-increasing density of frogs, insects and other invertebrates.

Initial grass clearance - not much topsoil here!

Plastic lining went on quickly with a few logs to hold things in place

Even drizzle flowing from roof to marsh.

A day after lining and the mrsh was already full of water

First marsh plants added.

Multiple trips later, still not fully vegetated.

Two months later - the marsh was growing fast.

A heavy downpour showing the growth of Marsh 2 and the beginnings of pond 1 in the background.

Manufacturing a wetland

When I was about 14, I convinced my parents to let me run riot in their garden. I chopped out all the exotic rubbish, replanted with indigenous and even put in a small pond (made with a piece of orange roofing plastic that my old man found for me somewhere…). Since then, I’ve always wanted a grander dam or lake in my backyard, but never lived anywhere long enough to make it happen.

Fast forward around 25 years and I found myself buying a property with Meg. I looked at the backyard and saw my chance. Fairly flat ground with only a vegetable garden and a lot of lawn to conquer. In the days before COVID, I imagined hiring a backhoe and digging one ginormous pond to house Large-mouthed Bass in order that I could go fishing in my own backyard… So, we moved the veg patch and enclosed it, got rid of a rudimentary rockery and built a fine BBQ area in its place. All I had to do was get working on the lake.

By the time I finished sorting our all the other upgrades and renovations around the house, COVID had arrived and lockdown was in full swing. Not only was the backhoe idea out, so was the ginormous pond for fishing - an alternate outcome was required, one that was going to cost very little and surely involve a rather large amount of personal labour… Back to the old days it was then, self-dug holes and plastic liners would be the order of the day. Since long and wide liners cost a small fortune, I planned to use smaller sheets of plastic that are more routinely used in roofing to provide under tile waterproofing. At 250um thick, they should do the trick. My intentions had changed somewhat too, out with the big fishing pond and in with a number of shallower marshes for amphibians, crakes and flufftails.

One afternoon with 'lockdown beverages' in hand, Meg and I arranged a pile of soda bottles, plant pots and hockey sticks around the backyard to form a basis for the grand scheme. A few days later, we started laying the main water feeder pipe – a 50mm ldpe pipe connected to our JoJo overflow. Trenching and pipe laying done, a multitude of connections were fixed and laid, ready to fill all the ponds and marshes.

Phase one would be a small pond – something that would allow us to test form and function. Early on a Saturday morning, Kaily and I headed outside with spades, shovels and wheelbarrows. The first hole was scheduled to be 3 metres long, 1.7metres wide and around 40 centimetres deep. 5 hours and 36 wheelbarrow loads of dirt later, we had our first hole. To provide some protection, we tipped in a few piles of old cut grass and laid the plastic. In went some water from the JoJo to get things going, before the evenings predicted rain arrived and proved that our piping worked too. Now we needed some life, so we hit a nearby marsh for some reeds, before another downpour the following day filled the pond. In the space of a week, we had increased our water capacity by 2000 litres and breathed some new life into what was the sterile lawn. 

*Postscript. Marsh 1 would indeed be the practice run, for we could not keep the water oxygenated enough. We ended up filling the pond in with soil from Pond 1 to create a contiguous marsh. Successfully punctured the lining and had to re-dig it and re-line it…

Planning - with soda bottles and hockey sticks

Feeder pipe form the JoJo overflow 

Breaking ground

Almost done

Black liner with first water going in

Almost complete

There was a leak somewhere, but it was a case of digging it out again

Re-lined and filled

Larking about in the Cape

I've been on the road for months now. Tours of New Britain and Papua New Guinea followed by a few weeks with Rich Lindie on Sulawesi. Too much time in the sky, completely unnecessary, fly from northern Sulawesi to Singapore via Bali onwards to Johannesburg, back to Dubai and then Basel via London in a day. Spend a few days birding with Adrian in Switzerland, then back back to England for the rather massive UK Bird Fair. A lecture, much chatting and more standing made up another four days. Drive back to London, fly to South Africa via Dubai. This time my flights are two hours longer than normal as I am flying direct to Cape Town rather than Johannesburg.

I've been to the Cape three times, twice when I was a kid and once when I behaved like a child. Relationships are funny things, somehow with much kicking a screaming, I agreed to being dragged half way across the world for a 'weekend'. Off I went on a trans-continental flight to a country I hated, under the auspices of attending the most ridiculous religious wedding of people I didn't even know. I reverted to form not long after arriving and headed off to Kirstenbosch Gardens, never setting foot anywhere near said bunch of happy clappers until way after the extremist stuff had been puked out. The point, however, is that my world and southern African bird list had long suffered the ignominy of this birding black hole. 

With some level of wisdom, I had been appointed to guide paying clients around the Cape in a few months time, so a scouting mission was in demand. While I only needed to cover a small section of Cape for scouting purpose, I was intent of covering as much of it as possible, the rest of the trip would be for me to hammer away at the new lifers and bring some respectability to my Southern African list.

Land, customs, bags, rental, drive. Cape Town (indeed all of the Western and Northern Cape as I would discover) may as well have been another country by comparison to the rest of the South Africa shithole. The climate is different, the people are different, the scenery is different. I could wax lyrical for pages on the pros and cons of the Cape versus the rest of the bell end, but perhaps another time.

My first morning dawned with heavy rain and wind - a test for my personal 'Happy Month'. I had some shopping to do, i.e. buy a new lens. Orms Direct had the mid-range Nikon 400mm f/4.0 that I felt I could carry on my little frame. Despite the crappy weather, I was taking a strong liking this place already - been a while since I was able to use the word 'competent' in these parts. Despite the weather, I felt I needed to be outside at least trying to do something. Rooi Els it would be - a tiny upmarket seaside village that has taken to protecting a section of the lower slopes of the Capes Hottentots Holland Mountains. The prime focus of my attention here was the Cape Rockjumper. I've seen many of its allopatric brother, the Drakensberg Rockjumper in both the Lesotho and KwaZulu Natal highlands - but completing the company set was my main intention. A patch of cleared at at an opportune time, but I was easily distracted by overly confiding Southern Double-collared and Orange-breasted Sunbirds. I had no idea as to what my new lens was actually capable of doing, so I just shot everything in much the same way as the locals handle their AK's.

Pissing rain came sweeping in almost catching me unawares, but rain stopped within seconds of me reaching the car. The sun came out and it looked as though clear skies would last the rest of the afternoon. I didn't need it fortunately, a pair of Cape Rockjumper conveniently worked over a nearby boulder even allowing me to sneak up for some more 'spray and prey' shots. Most chuffed with myself, I withdrew from the scene to drink beer with Shawn Wedd, my partner in amongst other crimes, the art of fish tank building.

Day two in Cape Town started rather pleasantly with breakfast at the Victoria and Alfred waterfront. Another spot of shopping for some 'stuff' before heading off to find a warbler. It's worth noting at this juncture, what a spectacular place Cape Town actually is. To walk out of a major shopping mall, the bright sunny glare clears suddenly revealing the most incredible mountainous vista stretching from one horizon to the next. I haven't come across a city of such size and incomparable beauty anywhere else in the world. [PS: the view across the V&A waterfront towards Table Mountain would have been even better had the city planners not allowed the building of that absolutely atrocious piece of kitsch rubbish of an FNB building to forever blight the mountain.]

Having made a relatively late start, I headed off to Constantia to find the very dull but very endangered Knysna Warbler. A rather dingy individual showed, and not too soon either - twitching for boring birds has never been a personal highlight. I had one last stop to make at the rather beautiful little beach town of Kommetjie for a Cormorant before driving through and beyond Cape Town to spend a night with Shawn, Lauren and young Cooper.

Awake at a reasonable hour for the drive towards Ceres and the beginning of the Karoo! Things were about to get much more exciting than they had been up to this point. I arrived at Karoopoort well after breakfast, to find large stands of Phragmites reeds. This was perfect habitat for Namaqua Warbler, which turned out not to be a shy bird when defending territory. The common stuff was all new and some rare birds were common - I'd take them any way they came of course; White-backed Mousebirds thawing in the early sunshine, Pale-winged Starlings, Tractrac Chat and plenty of Black-headed Canary. The local farmer came over to talk birds and borrow my wheel spanner to help another driver in distress - unfortunately we were all of little use in removing some very tight wheel lugs. [If you have a blow out, don't drive on the rim...]

From here onwards it was going to be a 250km dirt road drive towards Calvinia. I stopped at a pile of rocks named Eierkop. Large-billed Lark had the distinction of being the very first lark of the trip. A dry riverbed contained both Pririt Batis and an eclipse plumaged Dusky Sunbird. With the day starting to heat up, I conspired to get lost on the longest uninterrupted road in South Africa. A missed turnoff cost me 60km's ultimately (and the fuel consumed was equivalent to about the same sum in Rand, or US$6.00 in real money).

Entering Skitterykloof, to look for Cinnamon-breasted Warbler at 14:00 in the afternoon is perhaps not desirable, but I had little other choice. Scrambling up a rocky scree slope paid off when one of the heavily taped out individuals showed briefly. I made a small detour to find the frustrating Karoo Eremomela while picking up Spike-heeled and Red-capped Lark at the same time. The last two hours of dirt road driving towards Calvinia were interrupted by a number of Ludwig's Bustard flyovers and a pair of rather confiding Karoo Korhaans.

I spend most of my life in universal summer, and failed to appreciate that winter was not done in the Cape. Calvinia was bloody cold, so cold that my windscreen was frozen over and I had to wear almost every piece of clothing I had available to me. Shivering and shaking over a cup of coffee, I did my best credit card scrape of the windscreen before heading further north towards the one horse town of Bradvlei. Twenty kilometres shy of the town I pulled over for my first major Lark twitch. I started my search amongst a seemingly barren landscape pitted only by a solitary windmill. Rufous-eared Warbler was refreshingly common and I needed only a few more minutes to nail down the object of my desires, a pair of Red Lark. It must be said that this very late winter / early spring period is fantastic for Larks, most of whom start displaying an hour or so after sunrise. Karoo Scrub Robin quickly became lifer number two for the morning.

Struggle to find a place to have breakfast in the town, but am impressed to find that there is a restaurant called the 'Red Lark' - albeit closed. Breakfast complete, I'm back into the increasingly warm scrubby desert. I am now due to play a waiting game, it works like this. Find one of only a handful of water troughs, place your bets and wait for a lark to pitch up. To say that I am impatient would be an understatement, for ten minutes later I am waling the periphery trying to make things happen. Through nothing much more than pot luck, a Sclater's Lark flushes from nearby, sits on a bush, poses and disappears while I'm still fiddling with autofocus...

With more time available than expected, I try the same tactic at other waterholes. Karoo Long-billed Lark gets twitched, while a flock Namaqua Sandgrouse are in no mood to pose for me. A distant male Black-eared Sparrow-Lark is somewhat disappointing added to the list - I rather fancied getting some images of this fellow.  With all targets in the bag, it is back to Calvinia for an afternoon of working on my forthcoming Colombia checklists and rugby.

I have gotten fully into twitching mode and immediately start chopping time of my trip with ambitious driving distances. Leaving Calvinia early, I make quick time to the nearby village of Nieuwoudtville. After many kilometres of seemingly barren Karoo, it is a staggering surprise to suddenly find oneself amongst miles of green grass and numerous flowers. I had barely taken a foot out the car when the distinctive 'wing clapping' of a Cape Clapper Lark could be heard nearby. Hell it was cold though, upon closer inspection the road verges were all solidly frozen. With the sun just clearing the horizon, the larks had positioned themselves in a rather un-photographical position. I had stopped climbing over fences as of yesterday, I don't doubt that the Dutchmen up here will shoot before asking questions - and may well be further motivated to do so upon hearing my English accent in any case. One target left, which I could hear everywhere but was having rather less luck finding. Against a small, backlit ridge - I could just about discern the outline of what had to have been a Southern Black Korhaan. A quick reposition confirmed to some delight that I was indeed looking at one of the more sexy bustard beasts.

With great distances still to cover and an abject lack of traffic cops, I could 'get the hammer down'. The morning was spent driving over and down the Bokkeveld escarpment to reach the edge of the Nama Karoo at Vanrhynsdorp before turning north to Springbok. I barely paused for breath in Springbok, knocking off the remaining 140kms to the coastal town of Port Nolloth in time for lunch. Five kilometres north of the town, Barlow's Lark was ticked and photographed. Five kilometres south of town and it was much the same for Cape Long-billed and Karoo Lark. Back in the car for the 140km's back to Springbok for the night. In retrospect, I should have stayed the night in Port Nolloth and worked on my photography for a little longer.

Twitching this had become and twitching it would stay. Depart Springbok bright and early heading for the town of Pofadder. I had no idea at this point that I would still be driving some 14hours later, part of a 1000km day... Anyhow, at the moment dawn was breaking and there were more Larks to find. From Pofadder I hit the dirt road towards the South African / Namibian border town of Onseepkans on the Orange River. I was now becoming increasingly target driven. Stark's Lark - tick, photo, next. Stop, Namaqua Sandgrouse - photo, next. I took a half hour breather and spent some time trying to get photos instead of simply chasing ticks. Acacia Pied Barbet and Scaly-feathered Weaver proved decent adversaries. Then it was off to complete the 50km long dirt road. Arriving on the border town I was quick to scramble amongst the few patches of palm tree for Rosy-faced Lovebird. I spent 30minutes dashing around like a ricochet before focussing properly and finding what I was after. Though well seen, these parrots had little time for sitting still and waiting while I tried to get photographs. Swallow-tailed Bee-eaters were much keener to play ball, and my as yet uninhibited approach to taking plenty of shots resulted in a few decent action shots. Orange River White-eye responded well to tape, though it had seemed completely non-existent before that.

Birds in the bag for the day, it was now a case of seeing just how far I could get. Sociable Weaver increased exponentially just outside of Pofadder, but I could not find an African Pygmy Falcon to add to my South Africa list just yet. With the journey going well, I wondered if I might reach Kimberley by evening. I was already 2-3 days ahead of schedule, reaching Kimberley tonight would significantly shorten my plans. Then I made a spurious decision to drive up to Augrabies National Park. Ostensibly this was to twitch Short-toed Rock Thrush, though it took me a few hours to establish that not only had I dipped, but that I had no need to look for it in any case - having ticked it many years ago already. Twat - those two and a half hours had almost certainly consigned me to spending the night in Upington instead. As it happens, I went on a mission - through Upington and onwards, foot as flat as I dared - even passing the police who showed little inclination to follow me. If I was risking anything, it was driving at night with Kudu feeding on the road verges. Despite my speed and the lighting, I did have the opportunity to watch a skittish Kudu get back on 'his' side of the fence. A languid, effortless jump from a standing start over the 21 strand, three metre high fence. At least if I was on a collision coarse with one, it would probably only scratch the roof with its hooves.

Up and going early in the morning, I headed to the 'Big Hole' in down town Kimberley to find one last lifer - Bradfield's Swift. Having first mis-identified the large pile of rubble to the left of the parking lots as being 'the hole', I managed without embarrassment to find the real hole. A part of me expected it to be simply a large hole in the ground, not one ensconced, stadium style by walkways and shops. I tried entering at 07:00 to be confronted by a bevvy of what seemed to me in any case to be local 'guides'. I tried the avoidance approach, gave them a wide berth and sped up my gait. Turns out they were security guards and none too happy with me for trying to give them the slip. The 'hole' only opened at 08:00... Stuff it, I'd simply wait outside for the swifts to appear and then be off. A flutter of adrenalin was proven to be a false start - bloody Little Swifts. Ten minutes later the much larger, dull brown Bradfield's Swift made an appearance clearing the way for me to get a move on. The rest of the trip was a just an asphalt orientated haze, broken only by the bevvy of arsehole drivers that indicated I was nearing Gauteng. It takes a really 'special' kind of cock to drive an M3 or an RS4 with GP tags.

Trying to find a shortcut through the toll roads (something else that doesn't exist in the Cape), I found myself driving the increasingly poor dirt roads of Marikana village - site of a South African Police Service massacre just two years previously. Perhaps not the greatest place in the world to be gallivanting about. I exited post haste just in case I should happen to round a bend and come head to head with one Julius Malema...

And that was that. Just over 5000km of driving and R4800 spent on petrol (US$480) to see 30 lifers, 10 of which were Larks. It was also the dawning of my Love for Larks, a family I am now seriously going to chase... 33 Larks this year alone including the Critically Endangered Beesley's Lark on northern Tanzania. Better yet, I still have options on another two species - both lifers, both endemic to South Africa and both in a lot of trouble. 51 from 97 doesn't sound like much  - especially since the easy species have already been taken care of.

A foreigners guide to understanding some place names mentioned above:

Rooi Els = Red Alder (species of tree)

Kommetjie = small basin (referring to the small bay area)

Karoopoort = Karoo gateway, literally a farm at the start of the Karoo.

Eierkop = egg head (small rocky outcrop in an otherwise characterless environment. Probably refers to Ostrich egg fragments found on top of the rocks, no doubt placed there by the San.

Skitterykloof = restless / skittish gap

Calvinia = named after the French religious 'reformer' Jean Calvin. You needn't look very far to see what these religious extremists and brain dead nut cases did to South Africa under the guise of 'god'.

Brandvlei = literally marsh fire, probably best interpreted as Burnt Marsh

Nieuwoudtville = new forest town, perhaps in relation to the unexpected forests and green vegetation that is to be found here in relation to the dry and inhospitable surroundings.

Vanrhynsdorp = I'm guessing slightly, may be named after Rembrandt van Ryn

Pofadder = Puff Adder, a particularly attractive, but dangerously venomous species of snake.

Onseepkans = an opportunity to wash off soap.

Upington - named after Sir Thomas Upington, who was Attorney General and then Prime Minister of the Cape Province.

Kimberley = I am going to post a large piece of 'cut and paste' here from Wikipedia. I urge you to read the entire entry on Kimberley - for it is quite fascinating. After the discovery of diamonds, the general area had no name barring the Dutch farm name of Vooruitzigt. The local prospectors termed the town 'New Rush', but the British were having none of it. Before the British would proclaim the area for the crown, there was a problem. [continued from Wiki]

The delay was in London where Secretary of State for the Colonies, Lord Kimberley, insisted that before electoral divisions could be defined, the places had to receive "decent and intelligible names. His Lordship declined to be in any way connected with such a vulgarism as New Rush and as for the Dutch name, Vooruitzigt … he could neither spell nor pronounce it." The matter was passed to Southey who gave it to his Colonial Secretary J.B. Currey. Roberts writes that "when it came to renaming New Rush, [Currey] proved himself a worthy diplomat. He made quite sure that Lord Kimberley would be able both to spell and pronounce the name of the main electoral division by, as he says, calling it 'after His Lordship'.

And quite rightly so.