Looking back to the beginning

Today I have nothing of interest to report on. That is assuming that the things I do report on are of interest anyway. Perhaps they only interest me. When I first started my blog, way back in June 2011, I wrote once or twice a week, with the intention of it becoming daily. When I mentioned this to my mother, she said, 'Oh, you don't want to bore people!'
Well, 1 340 posts and 85 000 page views later, be bored. Here's one of the first blogs:

I once had a BMW 7-series automatic.
I had never thought about owning one.  I was driving a Toyota Conquest at the time.  One day my husband says: "We're taking a drive up the West Coast."  Who am I to argue - I love a drive in the country and we are seldom in the same car.
We get to a small town about 200km from Cape Town and he pulls into a car dealership, goes into the office and comes out with a bunch of keys. "Let's take this car (a large red BMW) round the block." Well, ok. So we go round the block and back into the yard.  He gets out of the car, says "I've bought it for you. See you at home."  (This may seem a trifle odd, but he is not big on discussing things and works on a "need to know" basis.)  He gets into his car and leaves.
So there I am in this huge car, never driven an automatic and his dust has already settled. After figuring out how to adjust the seat in 4 directions so that I can see over the steering wheel, I start the engine, lever the gearshift into Drive and ease out into the street.  I nearly find myself back in the yard thanks to power steering and drive with my fingertips after that. Thank goodness for a Saturday afternoon in a small town - not another car in sight! The onboard computer tells me all kinds of things that I've never needed to know in the Conquest - I've hit the big time now!
It doesn't take long to get used to my new posh car, after all, BMW drivers aren't rocket scientists (well, some may be) and anyway the car drives itself.  It surges forward at the slightest pressure from my foot and it isn't long before we are bowling down the West Coast road at an easy 160km/h.  Ah, the recklessness of it all!  (In my defence, there were no other cars on the road and it was only due to the extremely comfortable and quiet ride that I was unaware of my speed.)
My relaxed journey comes to an abrupt end as I approach the first hurdle, a traffic light, after about 150km. I have to start thinking about how to stop, where's the clutch, there is no clutch, which foot should I use, what do I do with the gearshift?  It is no small panic, I can tell you.  By the time I get home I am exhausted but well able to handle the animal.
My husband was home long before me. "What took you so long?"  How fast did he drive?

How to clean an oven

Is it just me, or do you also find that oven cleaners don't work? Aside from the fact that probably most of you don't attend to such menial tasks around the house (again, is it just me?), how often should it be cleaned anyway? I tend to use my oven a lot and favour the 'open roast' method, which of course results in huge amounts of hot fat splattering all over and coating the inside of the oven. But when you cook with an iron pot (or is it just me who does?), this very action is much sought after as it seasons and lays down a patina to give the pot a smooth, rust-free finish, preventing that metallic after-taste when cooking in the future.
I have used practically every oven cleaner known to man, including bicarb and vinegar, and the chemical versions give off such deadly fumes that to put one's head in the oven is to risk one's life. Not only that, but the next batch of scones will have a distinctly chemical flavour.
I have tried the cleaning cream that is currently being sold by those smooth-tongued, slick salesmen at flea markets. It sure does work there, but not a hope in Hades when you get it home. I recently cleaned out my cleaning cupboard and threw everything away.
Another thing nobody ever warns you about is that a popular white ammonia-based cleaner removes all the temperature markings instantly. No opportunity to proceed with caution. I know many people who have blank areas around the oven setting knobs. This can be remedied with a permanent marker or a 'before' photo stuck on the cupboard above the stove.
I will stick to the modus operandi I have followed for years: once the oven gets to a really past-it patina, I chuck it out and buy a new one. I did that recently. Anyone looking for a well-seasoned, perfectly usable, under-counter oven, with matching, unseasoned, gas hob? Give me a call.

At the foot of Table Mountain

A cool spring day saw me heading for the cableway at Table Mountain. Not to go up it, but to walk along the foot of Table Mountain, among the vast slopes of proteas and pincushions, which grow in clearly demarcated areas and don't seem to mingle! Our destination today was Deer Park near the end of Tafelberg Road, but the paths didn't quite match the map and we did an up climb and a down climb, followed by more up climbs, down climbs and finishing off with a steep toil back to the cars. Jolly good exercise, got the heart pumping and legs popping, with frequent stops to look at the endless view to the distant mountains (actually to catch our breath) and coffee break with a view straight up the cliffs of this magnificent Wonder of the World. The newly refurbished cable cars, now painted orange and red respectively, plied an endless trade up and down the cables, while the contour path leading up the mountain was being well used by other hikers. It's pretty steep, and I think it will be a while before I tackle that one! At the moment, pensioners or over 60s can go up in the cable car on a Friday for R100, a considerable saving, but judging from the clearly audible babble coming from the cable station, a very young crowd was waiting to take the ride, or else the pensioners were experiencing a second childhood. I would hate to be part of the queue in summer - it must be many hours' wait. Probably quicker to walk up. Maybe.
As always, every time I saw a bird on a bush, my camera was tucked away in my rucksack to preserve my neck, so by the time that was hauled out, all signs of birdlife were gone. You will have to take my word for it that sunbirds, sugarbirds and prinias were all very busy today.

 

 

 

Nature is truly amazing!

Yesterday was a cool and windy day on top of Red Hill, ideal for a stroll among the fynbos with those who know the names. Reports of recent armed muggings in the area did not put anyone off. One sturdy senior citizen told me their group had been mugged two years ago, so I asked her how it had made her feel. She said it made her more determined to continue walking in the mountains, as to give it up would allow the criminals to win, and I can only say I agree with her. I have my own way of keeping things at bay, and so far so good. Our group was only armed with cameras, cellphones and reference books to identify the marvellous wild flowers that are appearing across the Table Mountain National Park, brought to life by last year's fires. Although we regard them as devastating, they are actually essential for the propagation of new life in the fynbos, as most are germinated through heat, and so they are a necessary part of the life cycle. It is the danger to property that is the problem.
Much of the fynbos is so tiny as to go unnoticed by the unpractised eye, and it is here where the magic of the zoom lens is revealed. You can take photos of a far-off specimen without leaving the path and trampling unnecessarily in the veld, and when you get home and download the photos to your computer, the most intricate details are revealed.

 

 

 

Showers and flowers

Unable to join the hike today so went to Kirstenbosch instead. For the first time ever, I was able to make the steep climb to the protea garden without effort, although a 20 minute break under a very large wild almond branch was necessitated due to sudden showers! A group of tourists were also taken unawares, as were a few locals (I know this because I heard them talk!), as they had come without any rainy gear. Some could have sheltered under their impressive zoom lenses, and I had some stiff competition for my little Samsung cellphone! Yes, the battery of the Nikon went flat after a few shots. Once again a lesson to be learned. This hiking, photography, birdwatching and flower whatsit-ing needs practice to ensure that spare batteries, charged phones and binoculars are all to hand.
After a chilly start and enough rain to make the plants and birds happy, the sun came out and so did the people. Soon it was blazing hot and clothes had to be shed, but the daisies loved it!

 

Our family bench

Kirstenbosch in a shower

Silvertree flower

Beautiful cobbled paths

Shivering sugarbird in shower

The competition

 

Shore break

Sunset. The best time of day. Golden light bathes the mountains and reflects off the fronds of my favourite palms as they stand in stark contrast against the heavy grey cloud covering Table Mountain. It's been a day of intermittent rain showers and sunny skies, typical of spring in Cape Town, when the winter rains are not quite finished with us, but the southeaster still has to tighten its grip.

The southwesterly wind brings in huge swells from the South Atlantic, which reach our shores with impressive sets breaking over the many reefs that line the Peninsula. Late afternoon sunshine glistens through the peaks as they rear up before crashing to their doom on the rocky coast. Surfers stand shorebound, watching those who know no fear rising and falling between the crests, trying to decide whether discretion is the better part of valour, or whether to risk a snapped board.

The many hues of glassy green and yellow are a delight to the artist’s eye, and long lenses are trained on each swell; hundreds of photos will be edited later to capture the essence of the moment – a moment in time when Man and Nature are one.

 

The scenic route

Had a long day recently. Nothing achieved, but a lot of travelling. I hate to admit that as I get older, long-distance driving makes me tired, as there is nothing I enjoy more than a road trip (I lie, of course, there are plenty of things I enjoy more, but you know what I mean!). Due to unrest and a blockaded road nearby, we have had to take a massive detour just to travel 4km - an extra 25km (50km if you come back home again). An inconvenience which does nothing for good neighbourliness although one can definitely empathise with their cause, but nonetheless good training for a better self.
The only good thing about the detour is that it takes us over Red Hill, which is one of the most scenic and beautiful drives on the Peninsula, although over the last few years the potential for traffic disruption has mushroomed with an informal settlement in the area. However, panoramic views across the Table Mountain chain and over False Bay, with the picturesque naval harbour of Simon's Town below, take the edge off the extra time needed to get anywhere.
The purpose of the drive was to fetch a friend's huge 4x4 (embarrassingly large for someone who used to drive a half a loaf of bread) in Hout Bay and bring it home until he gets back to Cape Town. This entailed another beautiful scenic drive around Chapman's Peak, a delicious fish lunch at Fish on the Rocks, and then a slow, painfully slow, drive back along the same route, behind sightseeing tourists travelling so slowly I could barely get out of 2nd gear. Definitely no chance to test out the capabilities of the behemoth's very adequate engine!
The passengers in the taxi in front of me apparently had different ideas on what interested them, as the lady stared out of the window at the view, but the man had his head bent - either looking at his phone or one too many wines at lunch - and missed it completely. There seems to be a trend of driving at 50km/h or less along the narrow roads around the Peninsula where just one car can hold up 20 others and cause overheating of the brain, not to mention the engine. The word 'roadhogs' springs to mind, and it is no wonder that road rage is so prevalent here. The roads cannot cope with the volume nor the incompetence.
After a three hour drive and over 100 km to get to and from a place I can see across the bay from my balcony, a nap was in order!

 

You are not alone

Way past the witching hour and wide awake. The early hours of the morning seem to be when the mind is at its busiest, with nothing to distract it from its senseless going over of all the apparent and imaginary stresses of life. We all know that when we wake up in the morning, nothing will have changed and we will wonder why we lay awake, tossing and turning, when the sun still rises and the moon continues to show only one face and the Earth is still turning. All care dissipates like mist before the morning sun, and again we push it from our minds, where it lurks to wake us on another night when we least expect it.
We are not alone in this experience, as social media instantly informs us when our friends are also drinking tea at 3.30am and doing a crossword, or posting on Facebook to their friends on the other side of the world - there is always some advantage to be awake at night.
Tonight the sky is clear and dark, and the constellations - ever constant - serve as a reminder that what we think are insurmountable problems are just moments in time that will come to an end without the dire consequences we imagine. We can look back at many sad, frightening or desperate moments and realise that they are in the past and we survived; we shall survive again and become stronger every time through knowing that this is just life's journey and each experience is to teach us who we are and what our purpose is in this world.
These are general musings on lying awake, senselessly worrying over what in the end is meaningless. I hope it will be of help to someone who needs to know they are not alone.

An inspiring life

The best thing about getting older is that you eventually realise that the only person you have to please is yourself. This doesn't mean living selfishly with no concern for others, but rather that you learn to prioritise your life according to what makes you happy, rather than thinking you have to make others happy at your own expense. What this leads to is a more fulfilling life, doing things that make you joyful, are interesting and add value to your life experience. And the spin-off is that, because you are excited about life, you become more interesting to others who share your interests and soon you are surrounded by people who have knowledge to share on subjects that matter. That is the purpose of life - to be involved in it.

Having been the daughter of parents who were interested in everything from astronomy to zoology (you know what I mean), I am privileged to have inherited their abhorrence of the mundane, and it seems as though they are both guiding me to continue their legacy of appreciating the things in life that are free. Now it is just a question of finding the time to do all these things - photography, birding (yes, Ralie, "I am not a birder"), botany, hiking (who would have thought?), painting (yes, I will get back into it), writing, camping (Southern Star Party twice a year), travelling locally and abroad - in stimulating, enjoyable company - while retaining the ability to sit under a milkwood tree in quiet contemplation and appreciation.
Even more inspiring is to see other people reaching this awareness and stepping out to become their own person. Who knows - perhaps the Camino beckons?

A stormy hike at Cape Point

Today was my first proper walk in Cape Point Reserve. Over the last 45 years I have visited there often on crayfish and perlemoen diving expeditions (purely as a rocksitter; the diving was man's work) or for braais or a Sunday drive, as one does. But this was a hike from Gifkommetjie along the circular walk down to Hoek van Bobbejaan.
We set off in sunny but cloudy conditions with a forecast of rain later, which we didn't expect to affect us. The path led down the mountainside through an enchanted milkwood forest, with boughs forming a canopy overhead - reminiscent of my childhood playground on Trappies Kop, Clovelly - and wild flowers proliferated in the open, upper reaches of the beach, well adapted to the intense saltiness of the environment and white, sandy soil.
We passed through a troop of baboons sitting on top of the low milkwoods, grazing at whatever it is they eat on a treetop (perhaps new leaves), and they took absolutely no notice of us - man and nature living in perfect harmony. A Cape robin chat trilled in the shrubbery and Karoo prinias were abundant.

Gifkommetjie

We had to bend down in this part!

Tiny euphorbia in bloom

Beautiful babiana

Another babiana

Hoek van Bobbejaan

Hyobanche sanguinea

We stopped on a dune at Hoek van Bobbejaan near the remains of the wreck of the Phyllisia, a steam trawler wrecked in 1968. In the distance, thousands of cormorants huddled on the beach, with flocks of 100 or so continuously taking off or coming in to land. Huge breakers crashed ashore and gradually we noticed that the cloud cover was increasing. Looking behind us, we saw a well-developed rainstorm heading in our direction - two hours before the forecast time. True to its reputation, the Cape of Storms was upon us, and we had an hour-and-a-half's hike across the crest of the mountain to reach the cars.
The devastating fires of recent years have scoured the plateau of vegetation and the walk was easy with only rocks as obstacles, but within twenty minutes of leaving the beach, the wind freshened and rain was soon lashing us. It was out with the wet weather gear (those who had brought it!) and plodding on. I did still find time to stop for photographs of interesting flowers, and of course it never hurt anyone to walk in the rain, but after an hour in those conditions, we were all thoroughly soaked to our underwear and the cars were a very welcome sight!