In the era of the great winter treks, the Highveld was governed not by fences, but by the relentless turn of the seasons. As the first frosts of May turned the grasses of Ermelo into brittle gold, farmers and their herds became a nomadic tide flowing toward the warmth of the Lowveld. This was an arduous, dusty pilgrimage—a necessary flight from the "sourveld" that lost its lifeblood in the cold.
Today, that stirring spectacle has been silenced by the modern frontier. Open horizons that once invited migration are now divided by wire and private boundaries, and the long march has given way to modern efficiency. Livestock that once walked hundreds of kilometres now remain in place, sustained by balanced feed and stored fodder that defies winter’s bite.
However, a story shared by Oom Oubaas De Jager has given a glimpse into the past. Describing the journey his father, Roux De Jager and their family made every winter. From their farm just outside Ermelo to their "Old Farm - Aida".
"Sheep travelled 5 days with the guards of the sheep wearing beshu’s [rear skin aprons] and ntkabullas [cloth head-wraps] and carried a sweep [whip]."
Oom Oubaas shared how he and his siblings - Anita and Karel, travelled along. He had an allergy to the "rich" milk they had from Jersey Cows, and so "swartjie" their Friesian-cross dairy cow was loaded on a "Lorrie" just for him.
"Pap and milk was my breakfast... a beautiful time with our Father and Mother."
There’s something quietly enduring in memories like these—sentimental, yet rich in meaning. They carry the texture of a life shaped by rhythm, resilience, and closeness to both land and family. Oom Oubaas’s recollection is more than a story; it is a fragment of a vanishing world, where hardship and beauty travelled side by side.