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The word krom means curving or bent. In terms of a river, this could be interpreted as meandering, which the Krom does to some extent as it flows gently across the coastal plain. This would seem a satisfactory explanation of the name in terms of the river's anatomy today. Formerly, however, the river took a right-angle turn at the beach and flowed and expanded south to form a long, narrow lagoon behind the dunes as far as The Fishery. On a hike along the reserve's coastline early in 1962, José Burman described the lagoon as being 'separated from the sea by a sandbar about 200 yards wide' and that it 'turns south and enters the sea about a mile lower down the coast'. A lagoon extending north to Dassiesfontein and south past The Fishery is depicted on the Department of Surveys map of the area.
This was the situation, it would seem, until the early 1980s. I can still remember my first visit to Die Mond in early 1984. Feeling suitably exploratory and quivering with the expectation of a bird-thronged wetland, I found instead the Krom River flowing feebly straight across the beach and into the sea, without so much as a puddle on the shore, and not a bird to be seen. Once or twice over the following winters, the outflow would close up and a modest pan result, but for much of the time the area comprised a broad windswept beach with but a trickle of water running over or through it. Any chance that the lagoon would attain once more the expanse indicated on the official map was scuppered by the storm in May 1984. This obliterated the extensive and well-vegetated dune system behind which the lagoon lurked. Over the following decade, we witnessed the irregular expansion and contraction of the lagoon, but only once did it manage to creep more than a few score metres to the south. The gradual re-establishment of the dunes may allow the lagoon to regain something of its former proportions but, if it happens at all, it is likely to take many years.
Between Two Shores Michael Fraser and Liz McMahon New Africa Books 1994
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The lagoon which does come into being every now and then varies not only in size, but in lifespan, its persistence depending upon marine and river conditions. The waves which can unblock the outflow and release water can, conversely, also shore it up. Similarly, increased inflow from the river in winter might, in the first instance, lead to the creation of the lagoon through an accumulation of sediments at the outflow, but would ultimately lead to the dam collapsing under the sheer weight of water. When this happens, to the accompaniment of an unnerving roar, Die Mond Lagoon is transformed from a sheet of tranquil water to an expanse of damp sand within a few minutes.
The sandstones which typify the exposed rock further north in the reserve are, in contrast, generally coarser and comprise relatively large particles, the result of deposition, all those millions of years ago, in turbulent, nearshore waters. Entombed in the rough, shapeless lumps are intricate and beautiful mosaics of quartz grains, milky pebbles in a crystal matrix. Because of its hardness, these quartz grains are often the sole survivors of erosion and transportation, processes which dissolve or disintegrate the softer and more soluble minerals. The shape of the grains indicates how far they have been transported from their source or how long they have been tumbled around in the water. The well-worn, smooth grains have been subjected to aquatic wear and tear for a long time; the coarse, sharply-edged ones have spent less time underwater. Below some of the rocks are perfects pools of these milky pebbles, untouched and unblemished, which have fallen like teardrops from their parent.
The often jagged and chaotic bouldery landscape and rock formations that characterise the reserve are the result of nature's sculpting over millions of years. Although hardly on the scale of the Grand Canyon, and not so much Michaelangelo as Henry Moore with a hangover, some of the sculptures are impressive in their own way. These include the tumbled henges of on Bonteberg and the mysterious standing stones in the Krom River valley. The escarpment above Olifantsbos exhibits some fine monolithic mazes and stark surrealistic carvings. Some could have stepped straight out of science fiction (a bug-eyed monster would not look out of place perched on them); some, with their battlements and machiolations, from medieval fortresses.
Rocks of all sizes are often pocked with hollows and depressions to form so-called monkey stones. This selective erosion of soft stone within hard can result in honeycomb-like formations decorating the rock faces or, when scoured from their tops, the most delightful natural birdbaths. Many attractively weathered stones have, in the past, undergone rapid transportations and subsequent deposition in Cape Town gardens. It has to be said that the monkey stones look much better in their natural surroundings than perched in the middle of a suburban garden supporting an angling gnome.
Between Two Shores Michael Fraser and Liz McMahon New Africa Books 1994
