We knew we were close because we could see a thick band of deep azure on the horizon where it meets the paler blue of the sky. I had been consumed with thoughts of this patch of the Indian Ocean long before we even left Joburg.
In the nights leading up to our departure I had delved deep into my memory bank, pulling out vivid pictures of the Umhlanga Rocks I knew in my youth.
It was at this small coastal suburb that I sampled my first piña colada and was once burnt so badly from the sun that I had to stay indoors for days covered in pink calamine lotion. It was also the place where I enjoyed a number of carefree holiday romances with young surfer types, who reeked of coconut lotion and sea air.
So eager was I to once again set eyes on this destination that I convinced myself I had got a whiff of its salty aroma while driving through the verdant hills of Van Reenen's Pass - a good four hours away from Umhlanga.
Once there, my patience was further tested as a mass of shopping centres, office parks, multi-tiered holiday villas and a strip of tall hotels stood between us and the beloved Indian Ocean that I couldn't wait to be reunited with.
We took a wrong turn and almost ended up inside Gateway, the gargantuan shopping centre that serves consumers along Durban's North Coast. Where is the Umhlanga of my youth? I asked.
I felt like a stranger, a newcomer. My memories, my youth, slipped from my grasp. We took another wrong turn before we wound up in front of the Southern Sun Beverly Hills Hotel, who were putting us up for a few nights.
I was momentarily distracted by the plush interior of the hotel with its classic brand of sophisticated decor and the attentive staff, who gathered around me like members of the paparazzi.
I glanced around our hotel room, spying a flat-screen TV screen, an elegant bathroom, a walk-in cupboard and an espresso maker (if only I still drank coffee) and I knew I would be grateful for the inviting king-size bed later that night but, predictably, my attention was focused on the view that beckoned through the wraparound windows.
I could now hear the sea. Its methodical rise and fall. I couldn't wait to feel the coarse, speckled sand rub the soles of my feet.
With a ground-floor room, we had easy access to the beach. A staircase and a pathway were all that now separated us from the seashore. Finally we found ourselves in front of what appeared to be an infinite stretch of blue ocean.
I was concerned that the beach may have altered, especially following the mini tsunami that battered KwaZulu-Natal's northern coastline a few years ago.
Ballito's beach has yet to be restored. Umhlanga's was affected but, fortunately, has been largely fixed, barring the far end of the promenade that leads into the forest.
I regretted not being able to complete the walk into the thick, untamed vegetation at the end of the strip. It is, perhaps, excluding the beach itself, the only untouched or undeveloped land left in Umhlanga.
Pretty coastlines typically end up being overdeveloped to cater for growing amounts of tourists but, in Umhlanga the decentralisation of Durban also seems to have contributed to the transformation of this sleepy suburb into a hub of business and industry.
It was during this shift in the late nineties that many multinationals and businesses moved their offices from Durban's inner city to Umhlanga Ridge.
Soon afterward, property developers got in on the act, building residences for the workers gravitating towards the suburb. The result is that Umhlanga is no longer a quiet seaside suburb that comes to life over the school holidays when Joburgers flock to the sea. Boasting a large population of its own, it is busy all year round.
With its large shopping malls, restaurants and all the trappings of big city life, Umhlanga does feel a bit like Sandton-by-the-sea but, on the upside, this means you get to enjoy being by the sea while having all the amenities you are used to nearby.
Back in the day when there was inclement weather, we played card games or Monopoly to keep ourselves amused. Today you can catch a movie at Cinema Nouveau or indulge in a spot of shopping at the Gateway centre, which almost rivals Sandton's mega-mall.
When Sol Kerzner first visited Umhlanga in the sixties with a view to building Southern Sun's Beverly Hills Hotel, there were mostly sugar farms in the area. Certainly during that time it still lived up to its title, which in Zulu means "place of reeds".
A dated black-and-white photograph on the Oyster Box Hotel website shows men cutting the reeds with sharp pangas. The reeds are densely packed and almost double their height, and the labourers' mission to tame this vegetation appears unattainable.
I have never, in all my years of visiting Umhlanga, encountered the tall reeds depicted in this photograph, so one can surmise that eventually man triumphed over the landscape, reconfiguring it to suit his needs. Built in 1920, the Umhlanga Rocks Hotel was apparently the first holiday establishment.
The Oyster Box Hotel followed decades later when it was built in 1954. Nevertheless, Kerzner apparently had a bit of trouble convincing investors that building a hotel in Umhlanga would pay dividends. If his prospective investors had had a glimpse of the suburb's future, they would have reached deep into their pockets.
Today the beachfront is still being developed. Cranes are dotted along the coastline and building materials lie stacked up near the promenade. It's not cheap to secure a holiday flat here - a peek through the window of a local estate agent had apartments on sale for as much as R5 million.
At those prices it seems that Umhlanga has become the playground for the country's more affluent holidaymaker.
When Durban's new airport, King Shaka International, conveniently situated nearby at La Mercy, is up and running next year, with direct flights to and from Europe, it is expected that Umhlanga's swankier hotels, such as Southern Sun's Beverly Hills, will see an influx of tourists from Italy, Russia and eastern Europe.
The new developments along the seafront, such as The Pearl, tall twin towers boasting loads of sea-facing apartments are, no doubt, geared to cater for this new influx of tourists.
Umhlanga has been overdeveloped, but its attractive beaches continue to make it an irresistible destination. The beachfront may be cluttered with tall buildings, but when you are lying on the beach, facing the sea, it's easy to pretend that you are on a desolate beach kilometres away from civilisation.
The beaches also offer an infinite sense of space. I walked for hours and never reached a cul de sac. I only ever turned back because I simply didn't have the stamina to continue.
I revelled in those walks; though they took me along the same route every day, the vistas were never identical. Some days the sky and the sea took on pinkish tones and on muggy hot days the horizon was more like a dirty blue and the sea a cobalt grey.
Southern Sun's Beverly Hills Hotel provides loungers for guests right on the beach and it was from this comfortable vantage point that I kept an eye on the comings and goings of the large ships anchored far off in the distance while they waited to dock at Durban's harbour.
At night the ships appeared like floating castles with their lights flickering on the horizon. Like small worlds unto themselves. I often wondered about life on board: did the crews wait impatiently to be on land again or feel pity for us poor land-dwellers, persistently moored to the earth?
May proved to be the ideal time to visit Umhlanga. The other hotels along the strip weren't empty, but the beaches weren't crowded. During the December holidays, one apparently has to fight for a patch of beach. Like most of KwaZulu-Natal, Umhlanga doesn't get bona fide winter weather as in other parts of the country; it was still warm enough to prance on the beach in shorts and a costume in mid-May.
Expecting chilly weather, I had left my swimming costume and shorts at home, so I found myself browsing through those ubiquitous overpriced beach shops that one only finds at sea resorts. I was surprised to see a security guard stationed outside one such boutique - obviously Umhlanga's development has brought with it a criminal element.
Despite all these changes, I could still find traces of the Umhlanga of my youth. The Breakers hotel where my friends and I pooled our pocket money and ordered a round of piña coladas. We felt so sophisticated and elegant, even though we looked clumsy on our walk back to our lodgings.
The nightclub where I met Dave, a surfer with an unruly mop of blonde tresses, was no longer there, but the beachfront along which we strolled late at night was still intact. As were the large black stones with their shiny patina that are dotted along the shore.
I have always marvelled at the black streaks that would run from the rocks like smudged mascara or charcoal drawings, which the sea always seems to be trying to erase as it stretches its liquid tentacles closer to the shore.
- To book at Southern Sun's Beverly Hills Hotel call 031 561 2211, e-mail [email protected] or visit www.southernsun.com