Mev. Ferreira, Postmistress of Letskraal | Gravel Burn | April 2025

A few kilometres out from Graaff Reinet, in the direction of Middelburg, there is a beckoning gravel road leading off to the right, signposted “Erasmuskloof”. Take this turn, if you have enough curiosity, and you will be travelling on the old road to the north.

The route runs through and past farms that have been around for over two hundred years. The surrounding mountains have heard the soft echoes of human footsteps for tens of thousands of years before that, as evidenced by the ethereal San rock art that is there to be found, if you look for it.

This section forms part of the Gravel Burn route. Gravel Burn is Kevin Vermaak’s new show, an international 850km 7 day event for gravel bikes, the inaugural event scheduled for October later this year.

After taking the right hand turn onto Erasmuskloof, having left Graaff Reinet earlier in the morning, cyclists will follow this road for roughly 60km before they join the rail service road that runs under the N9, on their way to the overnight stop at Blaauwater farm. The Erasmuskloof forms the major part of Day Three of the Gravel Burn.

Cyclists cannot but be aware that they are riding in the footsteps (sometimes literally) of many previous travelers. Horses, oxen, wagons, the first vehicles have all made their mark.

In my new role as the custodian of stories for Gravel Burn, my job is to find the stories of the trail, to hear the voices that should be heard, and to find a way to share these stories with the riders who cycle the Gravel Burn route. After all, surely the journey should be about more than just the patch of gravel in front of your bike.

Johan Minnaar is an optometrist in Graaff Reinet. He is also the local historian, passionate about the history of the Karoo. He had been referred to me by Kobus Olivier, owner of Welgemoed, one of the farms in the Erasmuskloof. “Jy moet met Johan praat” said Kobus “maar passop, hy is lief vir kuier”.

I spent a wonderful evening with Johan. Kobus’s warning was valid. We kuiered until nearly midnight, swopping collector and history stories. This is how one finds out the stories on the trail. You ask local people “what are the stories?’ It’s not that difficult, and you get to make new friends, over a brandy or an equivalent story lubricant.

Johan asked if I had heard the story of Mev. Ferreira, formerly Postmistress of Letskraal Post Office. “I have not’’ was my reply.

Letskraal is one of the farms in Erasmuskloof. It used to be owned by Andries Pretorius, of Battle of Blood River fame. When news of the massacre of the Piet Retief party of Voortrekkers at Dingaan’s kraal in 1838 reached the area, Pretorius set off from Letskraal, ultimately forming part of the group (including Sarel Cilliers) of Voortrekkers that exacted revenge on 16 December 1838 at Blood River. He never returned.

Post Pretorius, Letskraal has mainly been in hands of the Ferreira family. In recent years it was owned by my new friend Johan Minnaar himself, although he has since sold it on.

In years gone by the rail line was the lifeline of the Union of South Africa and its various constituents before that (Cape Colony, Orange River Colony, Natal and the ZAR).

There were stops every five miles or so. Letskraal had a station master and a post office. This was where you collected your post, met your visitors, and loaded the produce from your farm, wool bales in this part of the world. Rail was more efficient than gravel. Sadly, no longer. Tar roads took over.

Sometime during World War II, in the 1940s, Mev. Ferreira, a farmer’s wife, was on duty at the Letskraal Post Office, a small corrugated iron building that stands to this day. White customers went in the front door, customers of color were attended to through a separate window on the side of the building.

Mev. Ferreira used to be a Mev. Vermaak. Her husband unfortunately died, and she, in time, married a Mnr. Ferreira, a man who was the uncle of respected banker GT Ferreira, one of the founders of First Rand Limited. GT Ferreira is one of many illustrious citizens of South Africa whose stories began in the Karoo, and Graaff Reinet in particular. A story thread for another day.

Well before closing time Mev. Ferreira received a telegram that informed of the death (“killed in action”) in Italy of another member of the wider Ferreira family, coincidentally also a GT Ferreira. She elected to deliver the sad news herself, the deceased's father was a first cousin of her husband.

She closed the Letskraal Post Office early (very much contrary to Post Office regulations) and began the 4km walk to Grasshill farm, to deliver the sad news to the parents. Times were tough and walking was cheaper than taking the car. She walked past her own home, “Vermaak’s Letskraal”, and on for a further 2km to Grasshill farm, and handed over the telegram to Mnr. en Mev. Chris Ferreira.

I imagined how it must have been, that day over eighty years ago. Her thoughts as she walked for nearly an hour, knowing that, once delivered, that the parents would likely never be in the presence of their son again. To this day he lies buried in a cemetery in Italy. I wonder if they were ever able to visit his grave.

Did his parents perhaps see Mev. Ferreira, approaching from the direction of Letskraal Station and Post Office, and wonder why she had walked past her farm and into their farm, during working hours? Did they have a sense of foreboding for the reason why she might be there?

In years to come when cyclists, whilst they are on the Erasmuskloof section on the Gravel Burn, pass a sharp left hand turn marked “Elandskloof”, they should know that Letskraal Station and Post Office lies 200m down that road. For the next roughly 4km their thoughts might go to Mev. Ferreira, postmistress, and her journey, in the same direction, all those years back, the weight of the terrible news that she had to carry. They will know for sure that her short journey was tougher than any that the cyclists might be personally experiencing on that route.

These are the stories from the trail. We shouldn’t forget them.