You don’t find Nature’s Valley by accident, you descend into it down a winding pass where cellphone signal gives way to birdsong and the light begins to shift through the canopy. Then, all at once, it opens up. On one side, a quiet lagoon reflecting the sky. On the other, the Indian Ocean. And in between, a ribbon of golden sand. This isn’t a beach built for showing off. There are no loud cafés, no queues for cold drinks. There’s just the hiss of the surf, the whisper of wind through milkwood trees, and the other discerning travelers ‘in on the secret.

The village itself is barely a whisper, with less than 50 homes (many made of wood) tucked among the foliage. There is one general store only. No banks, No malls. People rise with the birds, walk barefoot to the beach, and know the tides better than the calendar. Nights are for firelight, while standing around a ‘braai’ (the traditional South African 'pastime' of barbecuing) and hushed storytelling.