No water, no life

I give up with weather forecasts. There are so many available that it is hard to know which one to choose. Generally I choose the Norwegian one, but there have been so many misses lately that I am more inclined to pick a local forecast. Even those differ vastly and I can only hope that although none of them are forecasting any significant rainfall over Cape Town in the foreseeable (to whom?) future, they will all be completely wrong and a stray cloud will miraculously appear and dump three weeks of rain on us. It seems the only solution, as the authorities have no plan in place to provide its citizens with a supply of water any time soon if Facebook is to be believed.
Apparently the answer to showering and bathing woes is to book into an expensive hotel, where money can buy anything, or at least until the tap no longer yields water. Will these hotels refund their guests if they can't bath? Are they using threadbare towels for three days to save vast volumes of our vital resource? Will they just go home and complain that this is Africa? Probably.
When the water runs out, it won't be a gradual process. It will be nothing from the tap. The mind boggles that there are not ships already anchored off the Peninsula desalinating like crazy. It happens elsewhere. Do our politicians have any idea of the extent of the human disaster that is staring us in the face while political posturing and evil agendas take pride of place over the electorate? I believe they do.

Beach walk at Soetwater

I've lived in Kommetjie for 35 years and two of the notable things I have not done are: 1. Climb the lighthouse 2. Walk along the seafront past the lighthouse to Soetwater.
A recent hike allowed me to do 2, and my suggestion to incorporate 1 was rejected, so I was let off lightly that day.
Soetwater was previously a non-white caravan park and camping/picnic site in the bad days of apartheid, and had beautifully maintained campsites for the caravans among the milkwood trees. The campsites for tents were basically a patch of sandy lawn at the edge of the sea between two tidal pools, and from the road above, both looked equally enticing. It is a particularly beautiful narrow stretch of land between the Slangkop mountain and the sea, and has retained its unspoilt wildness, interrupted only by hordes of happy campers over Easter and New Year. There are also live concerts and other events, with an educational centre for school pupils, and there was a cohort of weedeating council employees trimming the lawns and doing a general clean-up for the weekend's happening being set up under a vast tent. Sadly, the caravan park is showing signs of vandalism and neglect and one can only hope that somebody will one day restore the area to its former habitability.
That said, the natural beauty remains to be enjoyed as a marine conservancy and birds were plentiful. Shells adorn the beaches along the high tide mark and there are all kinds of jetsam for the hopeful beachcomber.
A very pleasant walk, and can be quite a hike if you want to go all the way to the crayfish factory at Witsands.

Fun times at Yumcious Cafe

Another beautiful day in Cape Town (although we really don't want too many of those with the water crisis), and being a payday weekend, the whole of the population was out relaxing. Unfortunately this meant a long trip into town in painfully slow traffic, with so many examples of incompetent driving that it beggars belief. However, this is not going to change, and the only way to endure the drive is to listen to good music and enjoy the splendid views, of which there is no shortage.

My destination was again a jazz lunch at the Cape Quarter in Green Point, with a seat at the 'friends and family' table at Jenny Morris' Yumcious Café! Each month the centre hires a different jazz band and today's was excellent - Ramon Alexander Quartet with Maya Spector on vocals - great sound and at a level that still allowed conversation.

All the restaurants in the square benefit from these events, and Yumcious offers a set menu to allow patrons to enjoy the jazz without having to make difficult decisions regarding menus, etc. It's a winning recipe.

I always enjoy the company of the usual suspects, and every time someone new is at the table. Today it was the effervescent and ever-so-funny Marc Lottering, and as you can imagine, laughter was the dish of the day! His new show opens at the Baxter Theatre in November, and I will definitely be in the audience.

Before heading back to the Deep South, I made a turn at the Waterfront (never a hardship), which turned out to be an absolute pleasure as there was no traffic. All the cars were already safely in the parking bays and the public were out in full force to enjoy balmy conditions in this most beautiful of shopping centres, with all the yachts and pleasure boats heading out to the Atlantic coast for a sunset cruise on a mirror-smooth sea. I could have stayed forever!

Perpetuity

My hikes in the mountains of the Peninsula are characterised by landscapes sometimes devoid of all ground cover, with only the blackened skeletons of old protea bushes suggesting that this had once been a paradise of fynbos and birdlife before the hand of Man cast fiery destruction across the land. And yet there are individual trees that refused to give up, branches sprouting new leaves along their entire length, something I have never seen happen on a protea, and it is so uplifting to see that nature overcomes all adversity in a cycle of constant renewal. Dotted around on the bare, sandy soil are new plants rising in rebellion, their juicy bulbs sending out fresh green shoots and exquisite blooms, raising the middle finger to death.

At a time when one has to question whether Man serves any useful purpose on this planet, and the atrocities perpetrated by the human race not only among themselves, but also against the flora and fauna of this world, it is comforting to know that, when we have long since disappeared from this beautiful blue dot hurtling through the universe in an insignificant spiral arm of a lesser galaxy, that which knows not how to hate and destroy will remain as evidence that peace and love will endure forever.

Almost on top of the world

Tuesday's hike saw us scaling the heights of Noordhoek Peak, between Chapman's Peak and Constantiaberg, an ascent of 500m over the 4km from the carpark at Silvermine dam to the peak. This is possibly the greatest vertical distance I have done since starting hiking in June, and it tested my fitness as we progressed along the jeep track above Noordhoek. I stopped frequently to admire the view, which was spectacular in all directions, stretching from Hout Bay, down the coast to Kommetjie, across to Simon's Town and Cape Hangklip on the other side of False Bay, a view that made the exertion more than worthwhile. It is a view that one could never tire of.

Looking down at Long Beach and Kommetjie

Hout Bay 

Tea from a china cup

Silvermine dam with False Bay in distance

 A stiff westerly wind buffeted us on the peak as it swept in an up draught from the icy Atlantic below, and we were very happy to shelter among the rocks on the leeward side, like rock rabbits in the sun, as we chatted over a coffee and snack break (always a highlight of the hikes!). The fascinating shapes of the weathered sandstone boulders are a delight to the eye, and sometimes make for very comfortable sitting. One couple brought china cups for their tea - what a marvellous idea! - and I think I will follow suit. Drinking from a plastic cup is not one of life's great pleasures!
The walk down was much easier and took us along sandy paths through pretty fynbos. A lovely morning in Nature's finest surroundings.

 
 

Browsing Kalk Bay

Enjoying the cool weather here in Cape Town. The westerly wind means there is a cool drift off the sea, but the sun is still hot, so ideal temperatures for whatever activity is required. I took a trip to Kalk Bay to browse the antiquities and collectables with my son. I would never do this on a weekend as I am really not a crowd person, but today was perfect and even a parking space appeared in a convenient situation.
The first shop we visited was the one with the old books and I must say the interior smell was redolent of musty old houses that had been home to many animals. We didn't linger.
The shop with tea sets, old jewellery and clothing, glassware and ornaments was more interesting, and it was a pleasant way to spend an hour, but a serious collector of anything in this line would have to know an awful lot and have a whole day free to give the place a thorough going-over. I am at the stage of my life where I am trying to divest myself of 'stuff' and the only thing I could weaken for would be a particularly beautiful bowl that I could actually use, but as for the rest, it was like browsing my mother's cupboards, and in some instances, my own! Over the road at the old post office, I was astounded to see that similar things to what I had taken to the dump last week were actually for sale - decorative tins, old and battered kitchen utensils and other bric-a-brac I would never have imagined anyone being cheeky enough to try and sell. It seems as though I am living in a treasure trove and so the clearing out has been halted for the moment. We are rather going to rent a table at a flea market - I reckon we have enough stuff to retire on!

Our afternoon was rounded off with a visit to The Lucky Fish in the harbour where the seafood is fresh and delicious and the blue-and-white painted tables and benches overlooking the harbour add a Mediterranean feel to the experience. And of course a stroll along the harbour wall is obligatory. Seals spread themselves in the sun, posing for photographs by eager tourists, but I steered well clear of the razor-sharp teeth!
It's easy to spend a whole day browsing through the nooks and crannies, side streets and seashore of Kalk Bay and is always well worth a visit.  There is something for every taste, and the variety of excellent eateries, from extravagant to affordable, ensures that no one need go home hungry. Just stay away on summer weekends.

Star party at Leeuwenboschfontein

Another star party in the Karoo has passed by, and left memories to treasure forever. These gatherings of people who are fascinated by what's out there, of learning as much as possible about how the universe and everything in it came into being and what it's made of, provide both food for the mind and the soul. Many great minds are there to enthusiastically share the knowledge they have gleaned over a lifetime, and all of it is imparted with great humour, camaraderie and humility - true teachers indeed.

The road to Leeuwenboschfontein was paved with gold, in the sense of multitudes of rich golden flowers along the way. Scatterings of snow on the high peaks all the way from Du Toit's Kloof to De Doorns were a warning that the sunny conditions would be tempered by a chill, but nothing prepared me for the degree thereof! As only a third-time camper, it never occurred to me that neither my tent nor my sleeping bag were not up to night-time temperatures of 2 and 3 degrees, nor did I know that an air mattress is a sure way to discover what it feels like to sleep on ice. After sleepless shivering the first night, I discarded the idea of a nightie and took to wearing a polo neck shirt, cardigan, down jacket and waterproof hiking jacket, together with two pairs of pants, a beanie and socks. This is addition to a borrowed duvet under the air mattress, a thick foam mattress on top of that, me in my sleeping bag (the Mummy personified) and two blankets on top of that. Every morning people would come to ask if I had survived the night. Very kind, but offers of a place in a cottage were refused as I felt I shouldn't give in to a little discomfort. After all, how else can you appreciate comfort?
 
There is always something I forget on a trip (last time it was binoculars, comb, face cream and bird book). This time it was soap and so I used my shampoo in the very welcome hot shower (unlimited groundwater). It is a 'body building' shampoo called Aussome Volume, and so I can only put it down to the reason for my clothes seeming a little tight afterwards.
Apart from the cold, my camping fridge and butane gas stove provided all mod cons for outdoor cooking. I took exactly what I would eat at each meal and so took nothing home. The easiest meal is chicken, veg and rice all cooked in the same pot. 40 minutes and eating like a king!

When you can't see for looking...

Recently, a friend and I nipped over the mountain to the hills of the Constantia vineyards for a walk back in history at Groot Constantia. After partaking of a leisurely luncheon, the time came to pay the bill and I reached into my bag for my wallet. This bag has many compartments and is multi-zipped for additional security. The wallet also has many pockets and places for cards. I had stopped earlier at a supermarket for some essentials and had used my debit card, but as is our way, paying is an automatic response procedure where you take the card, put it in your bag, sign the slip, put that in the bag, then leave.
I searched every pocket of that bag, every compartment of the wallet, zipped and unzipped everything that had a zip, searched through everything again and again. I searched through diaries, notebooks, piles of receipts, folded up tissues, my jeans pockets, the wallet again - to no avail. And try as I might, I couldn't remember if the cashier had handed the card back. I break out into a little sweat when a card goes missing, not because I fear that someone will hack into my account and withdraw thousands of Rands (no chance of that! - they would be sorely disappointed), but because I fear I have lost my mind as I cannot find it or remember the chain of events. Alzheimer's looms large on the horizon.
My friend sent her husband to the supermarket to find out if they had found the card while we drove back to the mall to sort it out at the bank. When we pulled into the vast parking lot, by an amazing coincidence we turned into the exact same parking space as I had been in earlier, so I scouted the area and asked the car guard if he had seen it, but of course he had no idea what I was talking about. A discussion with the manager at the supermarket revealed nothing and by that time the bank was closed, so as soon as I got home, I phoned to cancel the card.
I emptied the bag and threw out all unnecessary items. I opened my wallet and removed every single thing from each compartment and threw more unnecessary scraps of paper, business cards, appointment cards, shopping lists, a TV licence and two paperclips into the bin. I then shook it upside down just to clean out the crumbs that seem to gather in the darkest recesses - and the debit card fell out.
I have to say that I once lost my credit card and two weeks later found it in my handbag, which I had also searched with the same thoroughness. I am now going to whittle down the things I carry with me to a wallet with one line of cards, one zip compartment for coins, and one pocket for notes. The bag will have one pocket for lipstick, mirror and comb, and the big space will be for the wallet. But then where will I put the diary, notebook, pen, tissues, cellphone, pocket knife, small screwdriver, toothpicks, waterless handcleaner, fold-up shopping bag... I have tried a bag organiser, but I need a bag organiser for the bag organiser.
If anyone has the solution, please let me know. Otherwise I will have to come back as a man in my next life and just keep it in my pockets.

Heading off to the Star Party

And winter hits in the middle of spring! If only it was bringing rain with it, but it's just icy winds off the Atlantic and the odd heavy shower (mustn't complain), nowhere near what we require to fill our dams. It seems as if very little is being done by the authorities to instigate desalination, boreholes or whatever is required to keep our taps running. Regrettably, it appears that so-called political correctness and 'compliance' is going to be the ruin of us all. It is time for the public to find a private water supplier and probably the only thing in the way of that is the infrastructure to attach it to our taps. But enough of doom and gloom for now.
I'm heading off into the Karoo again, this time for the Southern Star Party (Spring). The untimely return of winter means that, at 1050m high up on the escarpment, camping in a tent with a sleeping bag intended to keep you warm at 9 degrees is going to be a bit dodgy. The weather forecast has night-time temperatures at 1 tonight and around 6 for the next few! Daytime should go up to 17. Yikes! Not the kind of temperatures for staying up all night with your eye attached to the eyepiece of a large telescope!
In February, not realising how high up we would be, I packed for summer, and didn't have even a pair of socks or a beanie, let alone a blanket to supplement the sleeping bag. I did survive, albeit with multiple layers of whatever clothing I could find, but a strong wind, clouds and light rain did not help. This time round, gentle breezes are forecast, for which I will be eternally grateful if the forecast proves correct! I will be packing for Everest tomorrow. All that I will leave behind is the oxygen.

 

 

More calls from the past

A morning of rain brought on another spell of clearing, but this time it was the garage and the house. We managed to dispose of two of the cars cluttering the garage and so can now house all our vehicles - a miracle that probably won't last. He Who Can Fix Anything finally got stuck into a proper reorganisation and transformed the space so that the snooker table is now visible and usable. Another miracle - father and son playing pool, with HWCFA demonstrating his misspent youth and son thinking it's time for late night practising. Cleo is fascinated and can't quite see what is happening, but she knows it's something to do with balls.

The TV cabinet was subjected to a thorough inspection. Drawers that haven't been opened for years yielded ancient history - VHS videos of Grand Prix races from Ayrton Senna's days of glory, superbike racing featuring Eddie Lawson and Wayne Rainey (showing my age here), the early days of South Park, and even the odd home movie. We still have the VHS player, and it probably will work if we plug it in, but we will probably just throw it all away one day. Cassette tapes - pirated copies of Dire Straits and the Eagles (we all did it) bring back memories from way back. Who doesn't remember the frustration of the unwinding of the entire tape into the tape deck in the car and miles of tangled brown tape stretched along bushes at the side of the road, thrown out by someone less tolerant of the effort of rewinding it with a ballpoint pen!

 
 
Inside the cupboard is my precious collection of original LPs and 7 singles from the 60s and 70s. Those I will keep forever, probably to play on a new turntable one day - they say the sound is still superior to any CD.
The Holiday Italian tape is a relic from about 10 years ago, prior to a trip to Italy. One of the first sentences we were to learn was: This is my husband. Needless to say, I didn't bother with the rest of the lessons and have now sent it off to a charity shop.

Following the river

Who knew that, just a few metres from the traffic logjam at the Claremont robots, there exists a veritable paradise hidden down a bank under ancient, towering trees? The Liesbeeck River, which meanders through this busy suburb on its way from its source in the mountains above Kirstenbosch towards its mouth at Paarden Eiland at Table Bay, has been rejuvenated by a group of residents. Beautifully landscaped banks, a few large flat rocks strategically placed for crossing, and rustic tree-trunk stools and tables make this a haven from both wind and sun (on a very small scale - it is not a public park, just a resting place for those who walk dogs and push prams). A band of gardeners keeps it pristine and the constant flow of the river ensures lush growth.
Our walk yesterday took us from the old stone church near Kirstenbosch along the banks of the river all the way down to the Josephine Mill in Newlands, where the old water wheel has been restored. It is the site of the original flour mill for Cape Town. The Liesbeeck was first named the Amstel by Jan van Riebeeck, after a small river in the Netherlands, and is the oldest urbanised river valley in South Africa. The first farms were established along it, as well as a brewery. It has been canalised after the little paradise mentioned above and that section has lost its natural beauty, but new landscaping of the banks is being undertaken by the City and a stroll under huge mulberries, various massive unidentified trees converted into a childrens' adventure area with ladders and tree houses, and scattered benches, enables those weary of the constant bustle of daily life to escape for a while and enjoy nature. An African Black Duck with six ducklings entertained us as they launched themselves down mini rapids, bobbing around in the turbulence under mother's watchful eyes. Of course I didn't have my camera to capture the moment!

First fire, traffic problems

The southeaster is pumping again and the first big mountain fire is currently being fought by our excellent firefighters near Camps Bay. I would hazard a guess that it is once again man made, whether intentional or not. The pattern over the last few years makes me lean towards the former. A huge problem is the rubberneckers who insist on driving to the scene to take photos and get a first-hand version. Do they not realise that they are blocking access to the scene for emergency services and generally being a complete nuisance?
Rubbernecking seems to be a national disease. A single car parked at the side of the road (not crashed, just parked) can cause a major traffic jam as every single car that passes slows down to peer at and into the parked car to see why it is parked. It defies understanding. It may as well be a jack-knifed pantechnicon with multiple pile-ups for the trouble it caused. And this is an everyday thing. Here in the Deep South Peninsula, we are very limited for choice of exit routes to the other side of the mountain where apparently Life Happens! If a real accident occurs, and this is also frequent due to the lack of driving skills, an alternative route can take you an extra 30 kilometres. If an accident and a parked car occur on two of the roads, you may as well stay at home.
Major roadworks are currently under way to relieve the severe traffic problems, but I have my own ideas about what the real problems are, apart from badly marked roads in terms of traffic control, and I wait with bated breath to see if I am proved right. I do hope I'm not.

Speedboating

Sleek ski-boats slip by on a silky sea, heading for the fishing grounds where gamefish will be lured by false promises on baited hooks. No swells disturb the boats' even trajectory, no bone-crushing thumping over troughs and peaks. Bliss on a boat.
It's not often that the seas off Kommetjie are mirror-like, and when they are, thoughts turn to a high-speed boat ride around the bay, hugging the shoreline at the back of the breakers, sharply swinging with the contours of the land, the ever-widening wake with the bow at the tip of the arrow. A seat on the gunwale guarantees a soaking from a swerving bow wave.
But when there's a chop on the surface, the best place to stand is in the nose, holding onto a rope tied to the bow-roller and leaning back to brace yourself. Exhilarating, blowing-your-hair-back stuff!
You'll never find me sitting comfortably at the stern!

Blowing in the wind

A large group of old motorbikes with sidecars passed me on the road to Kommetjie yesterday. They made for an incongruous sight, sandwiched between huge trucks and oversized 4x4s, and I can't say I would have enjoyed being in their position. They looked very fragile and vulnerable on their thin wheels, with the sidecar providing little protection in the event of an accident. This mode of transport was made for a gentler way of life and the travellers were brave indeed to venture out in the traffic. Perhaps there was safety in numbers.

In spite of the traffic hazards, there is no doubt that the weather came to the party, and one couldn't have wished for a more ideal day for adventuring in a sidecar. Once they turned off the main road towards Scarborough and Cape Point, the open road and the wind in their faces would have blown away the exhaust fumes and they would have been able to appreciate their proximity to nature.

It is on days like this that we fling the cover off the Cobra, give it a bit of a shine and head for Olifantsbos down in Cape Point Reserve. The honeyed scent of the fynbos, the twittering of the sugarbirds in the protea bushes and the rejuvenating, ozone-laden sea air along the coastal road can only be fully appreciated from the seat of an open-top car (I prefer to call it 'without a lid') and more than enough to compensate for the tangle of knots I get in my hair (no fancy aerodynamics in a Cobra, I'm afraid).  The sensory pleasures are lost to us when we travel in our air-conditioned, tinted-windowed bubbles. They are fine for a wet and windy day, but an open car will always be my first choice for a drive away from the madding crowd.

Check the labels!

One of the things in life that I'm really passionate about is keeping an eye out for the consumer. In the past, I have had many run-ins with major supermarket chains regarding the modus operandi of their shelf pricing and advertising, and I am pleased to say that in each instance, I have been proven correct in my assertion.

Nothing raises my hackles quicker than false advertising, whether it takes the form of meat packaged with the fat hidden underneath, or the bony side of the chop out of sight. And don't let me get started on pre-packed vegetables!

But today took the cake! At the meat counter of the largest retailer in SA, I was sorting through the lamb neck for the best cuts for the lamb curry I'm going to make. One of the packs was marked Free Range, but priced by hand and the others just had the store label. As usual, I checked the kilo price and was pleasantly surprised to see that they were the same. Obviously a mistake, but I took it because I never point out under-pricing - after all, they are supposed to be looking after the consumer. I glanced at the price of another pack, which couldn't have weighed more than 300g and was amazed to see that it was R231.46! I checked the name - lamb neck - then the kilo weight - 3kg! I hotfooted that back to the butchery department and asked that they relabel it before someone with a trolley worth R2 000 didn't notice. I was impressed that they came to me afterwards to thank me.

Consumers beware - this is a common mislabelling error, although perhaps not always on quite so impressive a scale. Always read your labels.

A little late for Spring planting

A long day with unexpected rain. Just when I wanted to go outside and turn over the vegetable patch! I had originally decided to let the dandelions grow, as they are extremely nutritious and a great addition to a salad, but somehow, by the time 10 square metres of dandelion had reached shoulder height, I lost my enthusiasm for dandelion salad, or even dandelion stew, and just yanked them out by the roots, to lie unused and unwanted after such a valiant growth effort. I will put them in the compost so that their value does not go entirely unappreciated. 

I have packets of heirloom seeds waiting to be planted - visions of abundant harvests round about December filled my head - and I suddenly realised that the Spring planting hasn't taken place and we are already well into October. Perhaps this is how the dandelions grew so tall without my noticing.

Gardening in sandy, oily soil is no joke, and the only things that I have ever had great success with are onions. They grew into large, warm golden globes thanks to abundant fertilisation from the racing pigeons we kept many years ago. Scraping the loft out every day yielded a bucket load and there is nothing finer for copious crops. My new idea is to put wooden frames into the soil (ex pallets) to somehow keep the seeds in place and hopefully provide protection from wind and moles while the plants establish themselves (assuming they even germinate). 

The rain has stopped now and the sun has not yet set, so this might be the ideal time to get out there and give the seeds a little free moisture. But I still have to plant them, so cheers!

Queuing at the till

Went shopping with my iPod. Isn't it great to walk down the mall, completely shut off from the rest of the world, enjoying your music, not muzak? You can semi dance down the aisles, have a smile on your face, stand in the queue at the till for hours without even thinking about it. All those annoying people in front of you paying their monthly bills while you want to get the frozen peas home quickly - forget ice cream - that will melt in your trolley! - it means nothing to you. People you know wave and you read their lips, saying "Great, thank you, and you" as you whisk by, oblivious to what they were really saying in your haste to get to the chicken special before it's all gone.

There are a few disadvantages. You can't hear the announcement that the banks are having trouble connecting the credit cards with the tills and you can expect delays. You can't hear the person in the queue next to you telling you she is just going to get that bar of soap she forgot and will you please keep her place. You can't hear the cashier asking if you want bags - of course I want bags, does she think I'm carrying R800 worth of groceries home in my arms?

The worst is that you can't hear your phone ring in your bag. I usually don't hear it anyway; the ringtone just doesn't seem to resonate with my eardrum. But all the people around you glare while it churns out cheerfully.

When it comes to actually paying, it's best to turn the music off. Then you can hear the phone ring, answer it, scratch in your bag for your Discovery card, Rewards card, credit card, etc, etc. What a nightmare. Eventually I complete my transaction. But wait! Electricity. Scratch in the bag, smile nicely at the queue, turn on the music again. All is well with the world, and I'm just another one of those annoying women who holds up the queue paying bills and talking on the phone.

Trekking up to Kanonkop

One good reason to join a hiking group is that it gives you the opportunity to walk among the fynbos and fauna of Cape Point nature reserve. Without the discipline of having to show up and keep going despite all odds, I would never have seen things from the footpaths and would have been confined to a view through the windscreen or the occasional baboon-infested braai down at Buffels Bay. Today we were lucky to only see a large herd of eland grazing peacefully in the distance and a male ostrich accompanying two of his ladies down to the beach. Oh, and three very shy tortoises.
The circular walk from the information centre up to Kanonkop, down to the beach and back up the road was about 7km, and relentlessly uphill in places, with a very steep descent, but the view down to Cape Point, across to Hangklip and Danger Point in the far, far distance, made every step worthwhile.

A cluster of fishing boats from Kalk Bay was close to shore in near perfect conditions, and a whale waved its tail nearby. I'm still waiting to hear from a fishing friend what was being caught, but presume it was yellowtail, if not too early in the season.




The 'kanon' on Kanonkop was put there in about 1804 to send a warning signal to Simon's Town of any ships approaching. It was definitely an era when time moved slowly and it probably took a day for a sailing vessel to get from Cape Point to Simon's Town, ample time for the troops to muster for whatever action they deemed necessary. The mind boggles when considering how the small but still incredibly heavy cannon was brought to the top of the mountain, as it is liberally littered with rocks and boulders, preventing even the most rudimentary road from being established.

The flowers were once again a joy to behold, with many more varieties than seen on Red Hill, but the main characteristic was that they were generally very small, no doubt an adaptation to the harsh conditions experienced on this exposed part of the Peninsula.

Each flower less than 1cm

Zoom in!

Includes ant!

On the boardwalk

So much to see down at the boardwalk this evening! Hard to know which way to look in case you miss something.
Looking up you will see a lone hang-glider (parachutist) swooping back and forth on the thermals above Slangkop, always a favourite place when the southwester blows. A few years back, there was an accident when the ropes parted and the pilot fell to the ground. Amazingly, he landed in thick bushes and suffered a broken leg. Divine intervention? A line of sacred ibis fly overhead on silent wings.

Looking out to sea, the twin spout of a blowing humpback whale alerts us to its presence behind the waves. These behemoths of the sea are always passing by and if you look long enough, you may see them on any day. In the distance, huge ships plough through heavy swells, rising and falling in the troughs to give us a glimpse below the plimsoll line.
As we approach full moon (18h40) in fact right now, it seems as though the sea has been sucked towards the sky, with immense breakers in places I have never seen break before and monster swells on the horizon, perfect for dramatic photos, and of course I have left the camera at home. These pics are from my thousands of examples (the birds flew over today!). No surfers are out yet; perhaps later.
To the north is what I consider the best view in the world, across to Hout Bay, and to the south, the ever-present Slangkop lighthouse, there to warn ships of the dangerous reefs along this part of the coast.
And at your feet, the strikingly beautiful Ferraria Crispa, which grows in deep sand and rock along the coast. I first saw one here about 10 years ago and have only seen a few since then, but on close inspection I counted 15 - 20 either in bud or bloom over a fairly small area, and it appears that they are thriving. Always good news.

 
Never a dull moment on the boardwalk!

Arachnid alarm

At 1.30 this morning, HWCFA nudges me awake. Seeing the kitchen light still on, I immediately think he is going to make me phone K to see where she is (he is quite paranoid about her whereabouts, thinking that anything untoward only happens in the early hours of the morning!). But no! It 's something far more serious. He aims the light of his cellphone at the ceiling and there, just above him, is a very large rain spider! "You're going to have to get rid of that," comes the instruction. Being in a position of strength here (I'm not in the slightest bit worried about a spider), I venture to suggest that we just leave it to catch whatever bugs might be about and go back to sleep. This is met with some consternation, to put it politely. "It might go into my shirt (hanging on the door) or into my pants! (hanging on the doorknob)." That might be quite fun.

So up I get and tootle off to get the kitchen ladder, scratch around in the cupboard for a jar with a wide enough mouth that the spider's legs don't get injured and find a piece of paper to slide between the jar and the ceiling, assuming that Operation Spider Removal goes without a hitch. With comments from the peanut gallery coming thick and fast, I ascend the little ladder to the top rung, which has no balancing device except a knee against a metal bar and of course miss the spider at the first attempt. It scuttles off and it's back down the ladder to reposition myself for another assault on Everest. This time the jar fits snugly over the spider and I slide the paper into place and descend triumphantly from aloft. All is under control.

I go out onto the balcony and toss it into the neighbour's bushes, then retire to the kitchen for a well-deserved cup of tea! I often wonder what this family would do if I refused to remove the moths, spiders, geckos and other inhabitants. Perhaps I'll do that next time...