Breakfast at the Deli

Had breakfast at Olympia Cafe & Deli in Kalk Bay today. Sweaty runners and cyclists in those ghastly pants jostled for position with the less sporty of us. Bicycles valued at thousands of Rands were stacked against the wall. Fractious toddlers whinged and kicked at table legs under disapproving glares. Prams clogged the spaces between tables. Flames shot up high from the grill where grillhands tirelessly churned out plate after plate of freshly prepared delights. The buzz of animated conversation drowned out the clatter of dishwashing in the kitchen. All in a space of about 30sq m.  With waiters clearing and serving.

That's what brings people back again and again. Exceptional food (to die for!), no bookings (put your name on the board), friendly service (they recognise you), a fascinating mix of people (you always see someone you know) and, if you remember to look, a spectacular view over the harbour and across False Bay.  The decor hasn't changed in 30 years - in fact there isn't any - but nobody cares.  I doubt whether anyone leaves there dissatisfied with the experience.

Kommetjie #4

It's spring tide under a new moon in Kommetjie.  Below the lighthouse, a vast expanse of slippery, seaweed covered flat rock is exposed at the lowest tide and everyone is down there to do the things they can only do at springtide. Mussel pickers are filling their bags with black mussels which cling to the rocks, usually safely protected by the shore break, but are now high and dry. The flat rocky ledge is the top of a sea cliff which drops straight off into deep water. Skilled crayfishermen stand with their bamboo poles, a bait bag attached to the end having been lowered into the depths to lure the crayfish to an easy meal. A catch net is at the ready to grab the crayfish which drop off the bait as they are lifted from the water.  A little way off shore, those who can afford a boat are also chasing after red gold.   Young girls lie on the rocks soaking up the sunshine.  Children are gazing into rock pools, paddling in the icy water.  Dogs splash past them on their way to the next seagull. A diver rises from the kelp and clambers onto the ledge, his bag full of crayfish - a successful dive for dinner.
  No sounds disturb the scene - everyone is going about their business without interfering in anyone else's.  All is calm under the lighthouse. A drift of air from the sea keeps us cool as we clamber over the rocks and make our way back home along the boardwalk.
  In an hour's time, the sea will once more cover the rocky ledge and the sunbathers, dogs, children and fishermen will have to retreat from its advance until the next spring low. It is easy to forget that the scene is so different in winter when the north-west gales rage around the Cape. That is the fascination of the sea. I never grow tired of it.

Kommetjie #3

I'm sitting on the rocks at Kommetje in the late afternoon of a balmy early summer's day.  The lowering sun casts a peach light on the rocks which are exposed by the very low tide. It's almost full moon and it looks as though someone has pulled the plug out and the water has all drained away.  The waves swell gently through the kelp beds on their relentless journey to the shore, the wallowing kelp heads glistening in the soft light. The view across the bay towards the back of Table Mountain is as stupendous as ever, changing every day with the movement of the sun.

There isn't a soul in sight - what a treat. Absolute silence except for the sighing of the sea and the calls of the hundreds of birds which live here on the island during summer.   They are all going about their business -
terns wheel and bank in their distinctive flight. A pair of oyster catchers guard their territory. Two egrets appear to be doing a courtship dance. In the Kom, gulls are picking at the remnants of last week's sardine run.

The sea is calm today, ordered waves rolling in and breaking at precisely the same spot, the crests blowing off in the wind. The sun luminesces through the swells as they peak, picture perfect.

What a place to be.

A Clovelly Childhood #2

Christmas is the time that the clan gathers and when we were young it was usually in Clovelly, at my family home.  There is a large cemented area where about 30 people can comfortably gather (appropriately called The Big Piece of Cement). An ancient vine covers a pergola, providing shade for the last hours of sunlight in this sheltered corner of the garden and the view across the golf course and the Fish Hoek mountains and sanddunes is spectacular as always.  An old home movie has been converted and put onto our computers so that we can once more enjoy seeing ourselves 40+ years ago.  There I was, in a purple outfit my mother had made (she made all our clothes, a very skilled needlewoman) which consisted of a long top covering hotpants, which were barely visible, making it look on the movie as though I was wearing a daring micro mini. It was the early 70s and the men all had sideburns and long hair and the aunts and uncles were so young!
  Seeing myself in that outfit took me back in an instant to that Christmas Day 40 years ago.   I went to visit my good friend, Mandy (Hi, Mandy, in Australia, remember that day? You made a movie of us and that is why I know I was wearing the purple outfit.) We were playing darts outside and I looked up at the mountain and saw a thin wisp of smoke rising from the other side.  The southeaster was blowing fiercely over False Bay and the fire spread and burned all day and night.  There was great excitement in Clovelly because the first house in the path of the fire was thatched and had to have its own fire engine.  Hundreds of sightseers clogged the road, getting in the way of the firefighters and causing pandemonium.  We were warned to be prepared to evacuate our house if the flames came any closer, but fortunately the wind died down and we weren't in danger.  There were a few close calls for other residents and it came to light that the fire had been started by a sailor from a visiting British ship, who went back to his ship and sailed away, leaving us with a devastated mountainside and incinerated reptiles. I wonder if he ever thinks about it?