Not Spring yet

We find ourselves once again on the cusp of that controversial time of year - 1 September. It has become customary to celebrate this as Spring Day, despite the Spring equinox falling on 22 September when the season officially changes. Being of a slightly pedantic nature regarding this type of thing, which is clearly defined on the astronomical calendar, I refuse to entertain such celebrations and will continue to enjoy the last days of winter here in the Cape, particularly as we desperately need rain and shouldn't be in a hurry to say goodbye.

The light has not yet gained the clarity that comes with the onset of the southeaster and the murkiness of winter fires and smog lurks over the landscape, creating a warm orange glow along the horizon in the twilight hour, a not unattractive phenomenon. The scent of Spring comes as a sudden whiff, sometimes associated with violent bouts of sneezing, and until that day arrives, my winter wardrobe will not be packed away.
It's not that I'm not looking forward to Spring. It's just that I am loathe to conform to commercialism. You may call it Spring Day by all means. But for me it's on a par with celebrating the turn of the century in the wrong year.

Never assume

Today I pulled in at a garage in town to put in petrol. The pump jockey was an amiable young man, flashing a bright smile and cleaning front and rear windows briskly. When it was time to pay, he brought the card machine and asked if I had a certain retailer's club card to swipe, as this petrol company gives cash rewards. I gave it to him and told him that on a number of previous occasions the card wouldn't swipe and appeared to be damaged. He swiped a few times, then asked for any other card - I gave him a shopping card - which he duly swiped, then punched in the numbers from the first card. This allowed my purchase to earn rewards even though the card was damaged. I was astounded and asked him if he had figured this circumvention out for himself. He said he had, as it had happened before and, by thinking about it, he had concluded that by swiping another card, he would be passing on the problem to the machine, which then asked him to input the account number manually.
This was most impressive, and I told him that he should be employed in IT rather than as a petrol attendant, and he laughed and said he was no good with computers. So I asked him what he would like to do, and he told me he was studying accounting. To say I was impressed is an understatement and I wished him every success. His name is Lucky.
Which goes to show - take time to talk to strangers; make no assumptions as to a person's dreams or abilities, particularly based on learned beliefs; endeavour to always leave someone feeling better than they did before you arrived. I know that was a highlight of the day for me.

Striding it out

There's no other way to ease yourself into a whole new way of life than to just go for it! So best foot forward and on to the next hike. Never in a million years would I have imagined that I, who struggled to motivate myself to walk to a nearby palm tree, would clamber straight up a mountain (one that I have looked at admiringly for nearly my entire life, simply for just being there) and down again for any conceivable reason.
Just four days after exhausting myself on Steenberg Peak, the hike was up Cecilia Ravine to the waterfall, across to Kirstenbosch and then back down again (obviously). Towering gum trees reached up before us as we commenced the trail in Cecilia Forest. They grow spectacularly straight, and are awe-inspiring, as was the view of the mountain we were about to ascend. Soon we were steadily climbing, up through the damp forest, tangled roots giving a foothold on the slippery path. Rain was forecast but it was windless and not cold, and it looked as though it might hold off. The sounds of the forest were many - unidentified bird calls, the squeaking of branches rubbing against each other, the huffing and puffing of yours truly. Many brief stops were required to regain breath and enthusiasm for another bout of hauling myself up rocks - I was not the only one, but that was nothing to brag about, being the youngest of the group. And still we climbed...

Towards Muizenberg

Cecilia waterfall at a trickle

Path a bit rocky at times

Onward and upward

Those are people on the left

Looking down towards the dam at Kirstenbosch

It took an hour and a half to reach the waterfall, which was more of a beaded curtain than a raging torrent due to the poor winter rains, and coffee and a rusk was like manna from heaven, even though perched on a cold, damp rock. The alternative was mud. It was very beautiful up there. Again the views were vast and so worth the climb. The variety of flora emphasised once more how fortunate we are to live in the midst of the Cape Floral Kingdom. If I didn't have to look down all the time to ensure a steady foothold on the sometimes treacherous path, I could have spent the whole day up there just poking around in the undergrowth, photographing the myriad species. However, these are hikes, not journeys of botanical discovery, and I make do with the odd photo of whatever hangs over the path.

 

 
As we began the descent, the heavens opened, and once again, although we were all sweating from exertion, it was on with the all-weather gear, except for me, who had forgotten same. I did bring an umbrella, though, and it served me well, although not traditional gear for hiking! I laughed to myself all the way down the extremely steep descent (consisting of knee-high steps that were tricky to negotiate if you are vertically challenged and have short legs), simply at the fact that I was even there. The use of a walking stick is invaluable and doesn't make me feel at all decrepit.
Suddenly the rain was over, the jeep track stretched out enticingly before us - but no, we took a sharp left and continued straight down the slippery slope, simply because it was shorter. By the time we got back to the cars, our clothes were practically dry and the agonies of the climb were but a memory, soon to be fond.

Following in Dad's footsteps

Although I have taken some successful photos with the new camera, there is no getting away from the fact that if you have a camera that can do just about anything except talk, you have to switch off the Auto and start using all the features. This means studying the manual and practising! Having left studies behind me so long ago I can't remember, the thought of such intense concentration leaves me feeling exhausted before I have begun. But needs must.
I downloaded the manual - 245 pages. I skimmed through it, realising that what I really need is someone to teach me how to use it. And who better for such a task than dear old Dad, who was an avid photographer and the oldest member of the Photographic Club until his passing in May? Who would have known that within weeks of losing him, I would need to draw on his nearly 90 years of knowledge in so many areas - birds, plants, photography - my real-life Google!? He must be laughing. Oh well, too late now. At least I can be sure he is delighted that I have at last taken up some of his hobbies, having laid all the groundwork for these interests when we were children. Trips into the countryside on weekends sometimes seemed to involve more reversing than going forward, and it's not for nothing that confirmed twitchers have stickers on their back windows saying 'prone to sudden stops'.
But on reflection, what it proves is that you can't tell people what they should do or like; lead by example and you will be surprised by the influence you have on others. Dad certainly did and the pleasure to be gained from following in his footsteps is his legacy.

The trail continues

Within half an hour of starting the uphill climb, we were in the lee of the mountain and soon started to shed outer layers of clothing as the body warmed. The trouble with today's lightweight jackets is that they are synthetic and so unable to let out excess body heat, resulting in one perspiring and soaking it up in t-shirts and whatnot. This exercise would be repeated in reverse a number of times over the next four hours. The famously unpredictable Cape weather brought us freezing wind, cloud cover, fine rain, blazing sunshine and finally cold wind again, not great considering the damp clothing! However, this did not dampen the enthusiasm of the hikers.
This is meant to be a really slow hiking group, but our intrepid leader heeds not the grumbles of lesser mortals and strides out unhindered by the steepness of the climb or vagaries of the weather. He is over 80, and as the youngest there, I found it slightly mortifying to be at the back, due to my general unfitness and lack of exercise over the last 40 years or so, but it was never my intention to make this a time trial.
The views were stupendous, stretching from False Bay and Seal Island down to Cape Point, looking down on the dam on top of Red Hill, the lighthouse at Kommetjie, Long Beach to Noordhoek and Chapman's Peak, and ending the circle overlooking the Constantia valley and Table Bay in the distance. So worth the climb.
After a coffee and munchies break at Muizenberg Cave, we headed back towards the car park, thinking it was all downhill from there. But no, we turned right instead of left and the next two hours saw us clambering up to the top of Steenberg Peak (534m), following by a steep descent on the other side, overlooking the trail of cars doing the bend on top of Ou Kaapse Weg. How we pitied them! The paths are extremely well maintained, with smooth slabs of rock all the way down, making it much less likely to twist an ankle and break a hip!
Despite the good-natured grumbling (mainly by me), there were lots of laughs, and it was an amazing outing to be cherished in the memory. So cross about the camera.

Apprentice hiker

I joined a group hike today, from the top of Ou Kaapse Weg to Muizenberg Cave. This involved hiking over the top of the mountains of the Steenberg range, covering a distance of at least 8km and climbing to a peak of 535m. The walk got off to an inauspicious start for me. I had decided to leave my new camera at home and rely on my trusty cellphone to take pictures to (a) prove I had been there and (b) record every interesting plant, bird or rock I passed on the way. Somehow I slid the screen brightness button to minimum and, in the bright daylight, thought the phone battery had died and so left it in the boot, muttering and mumbling about how annoyed I was with myself.
An icy southerly wind was blowing and I delved into my rucksack for hat and windcheater to supplement puffy down jacket (no-one can say I was unprepared for bad weather), only to find that my little flask of coffee had a minor leak and I now had a damp woolly hat. I pulled it on, resembling a 20s flapper, and we set off along the gravel road towards the Silvermine waterfall. We hadn't gone too far before I realised that I had forgotten to transfer my orthotic inserts from my shoes to my walking boots - tarsal tunnel syndrome means every step without them is piercingly painful - but there was no turning back and I would just bite the bullet. By the end of the walk I could hardly put one foot in front of the other, and as soon as I got home, I ordered an extra set of inserts from the podiatrist. Never again will I make that mistake!
The Cape Floral Kingdom is a beauteous thing to behold, and there were so many spectacular flowers beginning to open after winter. Frequent excursions in the mountains are the only way to fully appreciate and understand what Nature has given us freely for our enjoyment. 9 000 species exist in an area of 90 000 square kilometres, two-thirds of which are found nowhere else in the world. Truly something to be preserved. The fynbos field guide weighs more than 1kg and it's therefore impractical to lug up and down a mountain. Hence my irritation at not being able to photograph everything for later identification. I would have to rely on my photographic memory. This also meant that there are no photos to accompany this blog, and as I consider them vital to every story, will not bore you with more prose tonight. The tale continues...

A rough day

They said there would be a big swell off the Cape today, and inevitably they were right. From Saturday's mirror smooth seas to today's monstrous breakers, these are the things that make it so exciting to live under the most south-westerly point of South Africa - Slangkop lighthouse. Every man (and woman) and his dog(s) were on the boardwalk this evening, enjoying the stimulating sea air and thunderous waves crashing along the rocks.

 Earlier on I went over to Long Beach to see how the Kakapo reef was performing and of course the best waves came through once I had put away the camera and got back into the car (Murphy is always close by!) and the air was filled with moisture, making for a very hazy view, but you can get the idea of the power of the sea.

There were plenty of birds: a kelp gull lunching on fresh crayfish, a little egret fluffing out its feathers, oystercatchers pecking around and cormorants drying their feathers in the sun.

 

 The vlei at the lighthouse has appeared overnight, albeit only two small puddles, but enough for Cleo to run around madly in figure of 8s as she does when her paws get wet! This is the first standing water this winter, a sign of how dire the drought is.

I caught sight of this thick-knee standing stock still in a patch of sand (as they do) only because the bright sunlight reflected off it.

(My apologies for the haphazard arrangement of photos. Slowest internet connection in the world is driving me mad.)

Thick-knee (dikkop)

It was almost a carnival atmosphere on the boardwalk, with everyone having come out to marvel at the rough seas, catch up on the latest happenings, and allow their dogs to pick up the post and leave letters for their friends. Chaotic, but part of this very special little seaside village.

Busy time at the feeder

One of the sales points of my new toy, the Nikon P900, is the Wi-Fi feature that allows me to set up the camera and then retire to the comfort of the couch and take about 100 photos of the birds at the feeder remotely. While I have many, many hours of learning ahead, at the moment I am just enjoying playing with it and being pleasantly surprised at how well the photos are coming out. Imagine what I can achieve when I learn to set the shutter speed, lighting and picture size.
The suet ball attracts about 6 species of bird at present, it being midwinter, and it's entertaining to watch the pecking order and jostling for position. The Cape White-eyes used to be in the fore, but lately the house sparrows have taken over, with two redwing starlings strong-arming their way in from time to time. Two robins hop about on the ground beneath the suet ball, very happy to avoid the bun fight above and pick up the scraps of suet.

Today it seemed that a house sparrow pair, which I have named Lovey and Dovey, were the main feeders, with a few of their kids in tow, and I was able to get some photos of the happy couple.

Idyll

Saturday was one of those rare days in Cape Town when the wind was completely absent. A slight drift of warm air from inland (known as a berg wind), ahead of an approaching cold front, made for balmy temperatures and mirror smooth seas around the normally battered Peninsula. Ideal conditions for a high-speed boat trip to blow your hair back - regrettably none were available! - or a close approach to Seal Island by the charter boats. Those of a certain age will remember the Toyota ad that featured a car perched on Vulcan Rock. Here it is at maximum visibility. Needless to say, a number of cars found their final resting place in Davy Jones' locker!

Seal Island. The bumps are seals.

This is a normal view of the sea.

Sentinel and Karbonkelberg

The lack of any swell at the foot of Chapman's Peak is ideal for crayfishing from a boat or diving, but of course we all know that it is a reserve and therefore not allowed. 

 These photos show why it is considered one of the most scenic drives in the world, yet commuters know it as one of the most irritating for that very reason. Tourists are in no rush, but busy working people who use the road as one of the only three out of the South Peninsula do not share their enthusiasm for sightseeing, nor do they appreciate the multitude of cyclists for whom there really is no room on such a narrow route. But perhaps we should be like the swifts in this photo, swooping for insects and playing on the thermals in such spectacular surroundings that we, too, pause for a while and reflect on the scene before us.

 

Fossils at Karoo National Park

A good reason for the trip, said Dad, was the added advantage of being on the doorstep of the Karoo National Park, where there is a fossil display of the creatures that roamed the land a little before the current creatures. It was a toss-up, he said, whether he was the fossil or whether we would be looking for fossils! A bit of both, I think. So at the end of the birding trip, I went to the Karoo National Park, sans Dad except in spirit, and spent a most enjoyable time on the short fossil walk near the cottages.

Look at those gnashers!

If I fell over this, I don't think I would know it was a fossil

Karoo National Park cottages. Stayed there a long time ago. A male ostrich came into the cottage and ran around. A very big bird! Can disembowel you with a kick.

Beautiful Karoo rocks in late afternoon sunshine

 We would have stayed a few nights and gone exploring for birds and buck, but there was now no need, and so friend Anke (she who shared her binoculars) and I took a quick drive in the Park to see what could be seen. It was late afternoon and the Park closes at night, so time was of the essence, and we were very fortunate to see a nice variety of the large buck, close to the road (so no binoculars required).

The dam that supplies Beaufort West lies in them thar hills

Kudu

Gemsbok

Kudu

 And so we came to the end of our Karoo Birding Safari. Good friends made, lots of laughter, notes made on what to take next time, and definitely going to go again!

Lucky sighting!

As previously said, it was not only about birds. We had a list of mammals to tick off - reminds me of long trips on holidays where we had to spot a red car or a Volkswagen or whatever, just to keep us kids occupied - and we were immensely lucky that one of the party happened to spot an aardvark in broad daylight at the side of the road. The rest of us were looking either at the road (drivers) or in the other direction (away from the sun). I am sure the effect of the sun shining through this interesting animal's ears was a big factor in the sighting, as they shone like beacons!

We saw many little bokkies!

The aardvark moved off quickly but at least I captured the evidence! We were told that some people have been waiting 25 years to see their next aardvark so we could consider ourselves very privileged! I can see why they dig such huge holes in the dam walls - they are about the size of a large pig.

We were now on the road leading to the edge of the escarpment and would soon descend from the Upper Karoo down to Beaufort West

I just loved this car-sized boulder! Did it bounce down the mountain and land with a plonk, shattering but still maintaining its shape? Was it millions of years ago?  Thousands? Hundreds? Fascinating stuff!

The road to nowhere

An endlessly receding scene.

 And just to prove I did see something, despite having left the binoculars behind:

 

Sakrivierspoort

Sakrivierspoort is an immaculately kept farm, with not a leaf on the ground (or pine cone - they are picked up every day and placed in huge baskets next to each fireplace for the most magical kindling), nor an unkempt paddock. Sheep and game are farmed, with a small abattoir producing sausage, droewors and meat for the retail market. I came home with a cooler box full.

 Awww!

 The fire burned day and night in the huge hearth, absolutely essential as it was freezing! Electric blankets and the thickest duvet I have slept under since I was in Austria in the 60s!

The tree trunks we threw into the hearth.

Lambs and rams in separate paddocks, mares with foals cavorting as foals do.

Dam at lowest level

With plentiful water, operations are not under stress and the farms have been run by generations of the same family. The original homestead is now a very comfortable guest house (self-catering) where we were very happy to be ensconced for two nights. It had snowed the week before and was threatening again, but fortunately freezing temperatures held off and the pipes had hot water every morning!
There was no lack of birding opportunities and many other interesting things to see on this vast property, including the midden of the Cape Clawless Otter and freshwater mussels high and dry in the raised river bank. We were seeing it at its barest in the cold Karoo winter, and it is another place that would be well worth visiting in warmer seasons.
Ralie once again excelled in the food department with an outstanding dinner of braaied kudu steak prepared in the hearth - a most convivial end to a wonderful week, with just a few hours' drive the next morning to get us back to Beaufort West.