knysna: where the humidity hugs you like an old friend (and other weird film-scouting adventures)

i'm sitting on the cracked wooden steps of the knysna lagoon, trying not to let my notebook get too soggy from the humidity. i've been here three days and i still can't shake the feeling that the air is made of liquid. it's 21.23 degrees celsius, but the feels-like temperature is 21.81 because the humidity's hovering at 92% - basically, i'm marinating. the barometer's steady at 1016 hpa, which the old-timers say means the mugginess will hang around like an unwelcome guest. sea level pressure matches ground level, so nothing exciting there. but i love it; the lingering mist over the water gives the whole lagoon this dreamy, diffused light that would be perfect for that scene where the protagonist has an existential crisis.

knysna, for those who haven't been, is a small town on south africa's garden route, famous for its eponymous heads - two massive cliffs that guard the entrance to the indian ocean. i'm here scouting for an indie film called 'the last oyster', a low-budget thriller about a former oyster shucker who can hear the whispers of mollusks. (i know, it's weird, but the director is convinced it'll be a hit.)

so you know where i'm babbling about, here's a map:

the lagoon itself is a broad expanse of water that changes color with the weather. right now it's a slate grey, almost metallic, reflecting the low-hanging clouds. later, when the sun breaks through, it turns a brilliant turquoise - the kind of blue that makes you forget you're not on a postcard. i've been circling the waterfront with my telephoto lens, looking for angles that frame the *knysna heads just right. the ferry that shuttles tourists out to the heads is a rickety metal boat that smells of diesel and regret; the captain, a grizzled guy named bazil, told me the channel depth changes with the tide and the safe passage is only at 98-86-98? he scribbled 988698 on a napkin, maybe a radio frequency? i'm not sure. he also slipped me a scrawled number - 1710311704 - and said it's the emergency dispatch for the sea rescue, just in case.

after the ferry, i walked the promenade, where locals and tourists intermingle. i overheard a couple complaining about the sunset cruise: 'overpriced and the captain kept telling bad jokes,' they muttered. someone else, an older woman with a sun hat the size of a wagon wheel, swore by the early morning kayak rentals: 'the water's glassy at dawn, and you can see the stingrays gliding underneath.' i made a note to check that out before the humidity becomes unbearable.

white sailboat on sea near brown rock formation during daytime

foodwise, i've been living on probiotics and hope. i asked a barista where to get the best coffee; she pointed me to a tiny hole-in-the-wall called the daily grind (check it out on yelp). i later scoured tripadvisor for the top-rated seafood shack and found this place but i'm taking the advice with a grain of salt because it's always crowded with tourists who think they're having an authentic experience. i also perused the knysna tourism board's site for upcoming events and stumbled upon a flea market that only happens on the full moon - perfect for a night scene with neon signs reflecting on the water.

if the humidity starts to feel like a personal sauna, i sometimes drive to plettenberg bay or george, both less than an hour away. plett has those massive beaches and a quirky hippie vibe, while george is more of a locals' town with a great golf course if that's your thing. just hop on the n2 and you're there. i've heard rumors that the stretch between knysna and plett is haunted by the ghost of a docker who lost his voice in a storm; maybe i'll include that in the script if the producer stops being cheap.

i spent a day hiking in the knysna forest, part of the tsitsikamma, looking for that 'ancient trees' shot. the forest is perpetually damp, moss hanging from branches like beards. i stumbled upon a clearing that felt like a portal to another dimension - i could see a sliver of the ocean through the canopy. i marked it as location number 12 in my notebook. (the production office loves colorful numbering, so i'm leaning towards calling it 'the emerald glade.' but i'm not married to that.) i think 988698* might be the code for that forest clearing. maybe it's the gps coordinate, but it's not matching my phone. could be an old survey number. who knows.

white and blue boat on dock during daytime

other random observations: the seagulls here are unusually bold; one tried to steal my sandwich right off the bench. the local beer, 'king's head lager,' tastes like metal and regret, but it's cheap and gets the job done. i've started dreaming in humidity. i keep hearing the ocean in the walls of my guesthouse, like it's whispering through the plaster. the guy at the corner shop told me the best time to catch the tide going out is at 3:42 am, but i'm not that dedicated. still, for a film scout, even the most obscure detail could be the thing that makes a scene sing.

so yeah, knysna is a weird, wonderful, soggy slice of the world. if you ever need a location that feels like the edge of everything, with the ocean breathing down your neck and the forest watching your back, this is the spot. just remember your raincoat, your sense of humor, and maybe a towel. and if you get that weird memo with the numbers? take it with a pinch of salt - but also maybe it's the key to something.

knysna: where the humidity hugs you like an old friend (and other weird film-scouting adventures)

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About the author: Hugo Barrett

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