From Box Carts to Bugattis The Soulful Rise of the Simola Hillclimb
By Geoff Brown
Before the cameras came.
Before the hill echoed with the scream of Lamborghinis and the thunder of twin-turbo V8s.
Before Simola became a name whispered in racing circles from Monaco to Melbourne … it was something far humbler.
Far holier.
It was a playground of courage.
Before the cameras came.
Before the hill echoed with the scream of Lamborghinis and the thunder of twin-turbo V8s.
Before Simola became a name whispered in racing circles from Monaco to Melbourne … it was something far humbler.
Far holier.
It was a playground of courage.
A proving ground of dreams.
And it belonged, not to the elite, but to the boys of Knysna’s townships.
In the 1970s and ‘80s (and some say even in the early 90's), long before motorsport's elite roared up this sinuous strip of tarmac, it was the barefoot youth of Bongani, Concordia, Dam-se-Bos and Hornlee, who laid the foundations of the Simola Hillclimb’s spirit.
With no engines but their own, they would haul homemade box carts up the steep incline … crude wooden frames, salvaged bearings, nailed-on bottle-cap hubcaps … and then, with fire in their eyes, launch themselves downhill in a riot of rattling wheels, wild laughter, and raw joy.
There were no timing systems, no sponsors, no television crews.
Just spirit.
Just dust, gravity, and courage.
“They were flying,” remembers 65-year-old Malusi, who once crowned himself ‘King of the Hill’ in 1979 after surviving the treacherous turn near the old pine bend. “No brakes. No helmets. Just hope. But we weren’t just playing … we were racing. We were daring the world to notice us.”
And one day, it did.
Decades later, that same hill … sacred to memory, scarred by wheels … would catch the vision of one Ian Shrosbree. A man with roots in Knysna’s soil and eyes set firmly on the future. In 2009, with a blend of reverence and ambition, he launched what would become a crown jewel of South African motorsport: the Simola Hillclimb.
Under Ian’s stewardship, the Hillclimb has grown into a global spectacle … a fusion of power, precision, and passion. Today, icons of engineering and elegance tear up the hill, flanked by roaring crowds and global livestreams. The event pumps millions into the local economy, showcases South African innovation, and brings together legends of the past and stars of the future.
But as the supercars line up at the start this weekend, let us not forget:
The first to conquer Simola did so on four planks and a prayer.
Knysna could stand today at an invitational crossroads of celebration and conscience.
The town can choose to honour both the pioneering vision of Ian Shrosbree and the spirited legacy of those township chaps who raced without recognition.
Imagine in May 2026 … A heritage installation, right at the start line … a bronze box cart, mounted in mid-descent, with a plaque reading: “To those who raced first, with nothing but courage.”
Imagine youth races with modern-day box carts, retracing ancestral runs, keeping the fire of play and pride alive.
Imagine a town that remembers where its greatness began … not only in gears and chrome, but in grit and community.
Simola’s story is not just about cars.
It is about how a hill, once ruled by barefoot boys, became a beacon to the world.
And how, in remembering the full story, we might find a deeper kind of pride.
As the Hillclimb races into its future, let Knysna pause … not to look back with nostalgia, but to rise with gratitude.
For the boys.
For the visionaries.
And for the road … still rising.
And it belonged, not to the elite, but to the boys of Knysna’s townships.
In the 1970s and ‘80s (and some say even in the early 90's), long before motorsport's elite roared up this sinuous strip of tarmac, it was the barefoot youth of Bongani, Concordia, Dam-se-Bos and Hornlee, who laid the foundations of the Simola Hillclimb’s spirit.
With no engines but their own, they would haul homemade box carts up the steep incline … crude wooden frames, salvaged bearings, nailed-on bottle-cap hubcaps … and then, with fire in their eyes, launch themselves downhill in a riot of rattling wheels, wild laughter, and raw joy.
There were no timing systems, no sponsors, no television crews.
Just spirit.
Just dust, gravity, and courage.
“They were flying,” remembers 65-year-old Malusi, who once crowned himself ‘King of the Hill’ in 1979 after surviving the treacherous turn near the old pine bend. “No brakes. No helmets. Just hope. But we weren’t just playing … we were racing. We were daring the world to notice us.”
And one day, it did.
Decades later, that same hill … sacred to memory, scarred by wheels … would catch the vision of one Ian Shrosbree. A man with roots in Knysna’s soil and eyes set firmly on the future. In 2009, with a blend of reverence and ambition, he launched what would become a crown jewel of South African motorsport: the Simola Hillclimb.
Under Ian’s stewardship, the Hillclimb has grown into a global spectacle … a fusion of power, precision, and passion. Today, icons of engineering and elegance tear up the hill, flanked by roaring crowds and global livestreams. The event pumps millions into the local economy, showcases South African innovation, and brings together legends of the past and stars of the future.
But as the supercars line up at the start this weekend, let us not forget:
The first to conquer Simola did so on four planks and a prayer.
Knysna could stand today at an invitational crossroads of celebration and conscience.
The town can choose to honour both the pioneering vision of Ian Shrosbree and the spirited legacy of those township chaps who raced without recognition.
Imagine in May 2026 … A heritage installation, right at the start line … a bronze box cart, mounted in mid-descent, with a plaque reading: “To those who raced first, with nothing but courage.”
Imagine youth races with modern-day box carts, retracing ancestral runs, keeping the fire of play and pride alive.
Imagine a town that remembers where its greatness began … not only in gears and chrome, but in grit and community.
Simola’s story is not just about cars.
It is about how a hill, once ruled by barefoot boys, became a beacon to the world.
And how, in remembering the full story, we might find a deeper kind of pride.
As the Hillclimb races into its future, let Knysna pause … not to look back with nostalgia, but to rise with gratitude.
For the boys.
For the visionaries.
And for the road … still rising.
Selling Price:
0.00
Sold:
Yes