Orange Kloof, Hout Bay

Today dawned cloudless and warm, but at 7a.m. the wind suddenly blew in from the sea, icy cold, and a blanket of clouds draped the mountains almost as though someone had cast a tablecloth over them - in the blink of an eye. And so it was with a little trepidation that I headed off for Constantia Nek where the clouds and wind were pouring through the gap, ready for our hike in Orange Kloof. This reserve retains the last remnants of afro-montane forest and is restricted to a maximum of 12 hikers per day to keep the human footprint at the least damaging level. This being said, previous hikers don't have much sensitivity to nature, as a number of tissues littered the path - always an unnecessary eyesore and a sad social commentary. 

After an initially level section of the old track (concreted in places, but obviously many years ago), we started a fairly steep ascent, hugging the contours until we reached the upper end of the Hout Bay valley under heavy cloud cover. This was most welcome, as I had by then perspired buckets and on taking off my (synthetic) water-resistant jacket, found my puffy down jacket totally soaked through - a little soap and I could have given it a launder. The wind dried it in about half an hour and all was well again, but I will definitely have to look for something warm in a natural fabric!

The views, when the clouds permitted, were magnificent, with Muizenberg mountains to the left and the whole Hout Bay valley to the right. Down on the valley floor we could see the roofs of two very old houses completely obscured in the forest - would be interesting to know the history of what happened under those roofs. We eventually descended to the upper section of the Disa River where the track crossed it, and would have continued up along its banks to the waterfall if it had not meant another hour added on to the hike. It is not recommended in winter. A very pleasant half hour was spent relaxing on the rocks enjoying the tumbling river, still pristine before reaching the valley where unchecked pollution is destroying it. No fires have been here since the 1930s, although there was a very close call last year, and the thick vegetation offered a splendid display of different flora, some no doubt unique to the area, and really added to the pleasure of the hike.

The return trip was a backtrack - back up the track, a real slog and quite exhausting - followed by the long descent at a cracking pace. I was like the horse that wants to be first back at the stable! A total of 8.5km and an elevation of around 300m made for some fair exercise, rewarded by a cup of tea and a salad. How very restrained!

Reminders

When worldly matters make you weary, it is well to remember that the best things in life are free:

Step outside before dawn and listen to the birds waking up, chattering quietly in the undergrowth and the treetops. The boubou is waiting for the sunrise before hopping onto the deck and coming to say hello. The cacophonous call of the guinea fowl in the gum tree and the hadeda hollering on the roof make one wonder at their purpose in the avian world! The gentle melody of the turtle dove reminds me of leafy suburbia, in the old days when I was a child. A bokmakierie calls stridently from the hedge, no doubt looking for a mate as the balmy winter days mimic spring.

The glow of dawn colours the sky in indigo and orange, outlining my favourite Table Mountain view in silhouette, never changing and always 'home'. Looking out for the familiar V of sacred ibis crossing overhead, silently swishing by as they fly across the bay to their feeding ground beyond the lighthouse, along the rocky Atlantic shore where the sea has ebbed and flowed for millennia and will continue long after we are gone.

The people who pass through our lives - all for a reason, and to be accepted for who they are, not who society says they should be. We cannot be at peace while we have false expectations. Don't underestimate the power of the kindness of strangers - be that stranger to others. Remember who the real people are - not the politicians, the movie stars, the wealthy - but rather the people who reach out to help others in need, whether through words or actions, without seeking acknowledgement or repayment, but fellowship and service to others. Love and respect each other in the best way you know how. There is so much more good in the world than bad.

Early signs of spring - far too early

Friday was forecast to be a deluge, but nothing materialised in the southern Peninsula and so we were able to walk in the mountains above Glencairn - an easy stroll with lovely scenery in all directions and initially cool and cloudy but clearing from the south west to sunny skies and another one of those marvellous winter days that make us forget it's winter in Cape Town. The rain fell on the other side of False Bay in the catchment areas, so that was all we needed.

Since our last hike there, the path has become more overgrown and so it seems that nobody goes there much, which is a pity as it is so accessible to hikers of even minimal agility. The same litter marked the way, and one of our party, who is admirably environmentally conscious, brought a bag and collected it all on the way back. We should all make more effort to do so, even though it irks us to clean up after litterbugs who neither know nor care what effect their thoughtlessness has on the planet or our pleasure in living on it.

The alien Port Jackson is thriving and getting near shoulder height and the authorities should be actively rooting out this scourge - there are more than enough people who have nothing to do with their days and would benefit from fresh air and exercise and a few bob in the bank.

Whinging over, and back to the joys of hiking in this beautiful country. Early signs of spring were evident, with hyobanche sanguinea peeking out of the ground in the middle of the path - warnings were issued to hikers with big boots! Babiana ringens (if identified correctly) is also too early, but was plentiful and a first observation for me - very attractive red and yellow. Pelargoniums dotted the landscape and a lovely display of chasmanthe covered the north-facing slope at the foot of a rocky ridge, enjoying the sunshine. Lobostemon and ericas pleased the eye, and the rest remain unidentified, due to the richness of our floral kingdom and the impracticality of putting together a reference book with 9000 colour plates!

One sadness of the day was coming across a rivulet filled with hundreds of tadpoles. There is no rain forecast before Tuesday, and the tadpoles were barely covered by the shallow water. They will no doubt be high and dry in the next day or so unless the mountain can squeeze out a continuous stream to feed their puddle, and so the harsh realities of raw nature were demonstrated by these hapless tadpoles.

A balance between Man and Nature

Took a walk on the wild side - of the garden, that is - to see how the lemon tree is doing. I recently sprayed it with an eco-friendly spray to get rid of the aphid/whitefly population that was infesting it in droves. I couldn't reach the highest parts without giving myself an intensive treatment too (although at least I know I won't get aphids on my face) and so there are still areas which are infested. A golden orb spider has set up web and home between the lemon tree and the honeysuckle, rather inconveniently blocking easy access to the actual lemons when I want to pick them. I don't want to sever any of the web links (sounds a bit technical, doesn't it?) so have to ease my arm through the branches, running the gauntlet of the vicious thorns this particular variety of lemon tree bears.
As I peered short-sightedly through the gnarled branches, I spotted a large brown ball slightly larger than a cricket ball and immediately thought it might be the fungus that killed off most of the Port Jackson trees some years back. I reached out and poked it with my finger, and it immediately dissolved into a seething mass of ants! It was an ant nest, the ants being a little larger than the Argentinian species, and in no time they were swarming up my finger and biting in self-defence against this most unwelcome intrusion! I beat a hasty retreat and left them to regroup and settle back into domestic bliss and went to fetch the camera.
I had to poke my head through the spider web to get this rather poor shot, but there was no other way to get near it. The pic with the leaf shows the food that they are living on which has obviously attracted them to make their nest in a tree (I wonder if this is normal ant behaviour - any ant specialists out there?) and so am relieved that no poison was used. I won't be spraying again, as this will destroy this little ecosystem out there in the wilds of the back garden. After all, isn't that what we are trying to achieve - a balance between man and nature?

No hike today

I was very sad to miss my hike today - 6 or 8 kilometres around the base of Lion's Head is always good for the heart, soul and figure - but there are times (believe it or not) when work actually has to come first. I am fortunate to work from home and it is not all that time-consuming, but somehow I seem to resent the hours when I am unable to go out and sit under a tree or on a rock on the mountainside and empty my mind of worldly things. Meditation is just that - emptying the mind and allowing your inner voice to be heard. You don't have to sit cross-legged with eyes closed, you just have to turn off the noise of your thoughts.
Painting is a form of meditation. I did my best work when I didn't think about what I was doing and just let the brush stroke the canvas. The music of Freddie Mercury (Queen) was my muse and encouraged vigorous, passionate painting. I think that is what is missing now, and I will have to dig out the old-fashioned headphones to get back into the rhythm.
Lying on the ground looking up at the sky (particularly if there are clouds) is another very effective way to empty the mind of thoughts, but best done on a late summer's afternoon when the ground is warm and the evenings long. You will be amazed at what passes through your field of view.
Hiking also leans towards meditation as you concentrate on every footstep and the effort of the climb or descent doesn't allow for any more thought than where you will next put your boot. And sitting on the highest point looking out across the valleys and oceans is definitely the ultimate in soul food.
I always get back from a hike in a lighter frame of mind - the most effective anti-depressant without a doubt!

That old shirt

We all have a favourite item of clothing, don't we? I know I do, and nothing brings that home more than looking through photographs and seeing that I am wearing my favourite purple shirt in nearly every one! Whether at home or abroad, the faithful purple shirt appears, rather like the garden gnome that Amelie photographed to give the impression that she was travelling the world. At least I don't look like the garden gnome! The sad part is that the shirt is fading and will one day be a pale purple consigned to the 'clothes only suitable for gardening' pile.
In winter, people will be forgiven for thinking that I only have one long-sleeved top, as I wear it as the basis for every outfit, but I do have four of them and so have the opportunity to wear a new one every day. The accessory depends on the destination, although I find that anything too smart raises eyebrows, living in this casual little village by the sea, and so those clothes lie untouched in the wardrobe.
I long to wear long, flowing, colourful dresses, but my children have voiced horror at the thought of such attire on their mother and so I must bow to their better judgment. I have often thought I would look quite becoming in a sari, but that would obviously be totally inappropriate and attract more than one skew look at the mall, where the favoured mode is baggy tracksuit pants and a cheap t-shirt.
So for the moment it will have to be jeans and jerseys, but come summer, who knows?

Kanonkop climb

After a few days' hiking in the Cederberg, it was back to familiar territory down at Cape Point on Friday! Kanonkop was our goal and again it turned out that winter was more like summer as the day grew progressively warmer in proportion to the length of the walk. Jackets were shed and short sleeves were more than adequate as we turned away from the wind and entered the leeward side of the Peninsula. This fairly strenuous trail from the Information Centre entails a steady climb over a ridge or two until you come to the vantage point where the old cannon still stands guard over the entrance to False Bay - long de-commissioned! One can only marvel at the slow pace of life in those days, when a cannon fired to announce the arrival of a ship would be repeated at intervals along the coastline until the authorities became aware of the event in the settlement at Simon's Town and could take appropriate action some days later.
Groups of youngsters from the Chrysalis Academy (about 100) crossed our path, laden with backpack, sleeping roll and cookware. Rumour had it that they had walked from Tokai and were going back again but it is more likely that they are doing a 3-day trail - good to see outdoor activities on the agenda. Of course, we had to step back into the fynbos to let them go by otherwise we would have been flattened in the rush - their next stop was for lunch.
The views from Kanonkop are marvellous, stretching across towards Hangklip and beyond, down to the lighthouse at Cape Point, and giving a bird's eye view of the crystal clear shallows below at Buffels Bay - worth every moment of the climbing effort. We descended the steep track down to sea level and started the slog up the hill back to the cars on tar. Our intrepid leader then turned back onto the mountain and we plodded onwards, ever onwards and upwards until we reached the corresponding level of the Info Centre - a considerable climb - and then we levelled out to a steady pace, culminating our hike after 4 hours, 14 000 steps and some 9.5 kilometres later. Exercise indeed!

A huge tortoise, must have been 40cm end to end or more

Hiking and relaxing

The main purpose of the sojourn in the Cederberg was to hike some moderate trails of about 2 to 6 hours, although no obligation was felt to participate in all of them. Some of us were seasoned, ultra fit, bobbejaan-klim-die-berg hikers, but I was not, and I brought up the rear quite happily. Of course, a reason for my slowness is that I like to stop and take in the beauty of my surroundings - if I looked around as I walked, I would be flat on my face in no time - and as a compulsive photographer, I am always on the lookout for something new and unusual to snap. The altitude (900m) might have had an effect as well, as I struggle with sufficient oxygen intake at sea level even. But apart from some heavy breathing, the walking was easy and the greatest pleasure in moderate temperatures and windless conditions. The wind did come up in the afternoons and particularly at night, when it sounded like a herd of buffalo stampeding down the mountain, coming closer and closer until it buffeted the house, nearly ripping the roof off on occasion. Not for nothing were large rocks strategically placed on it! But most of the time we couldn't have had better weather.

It was a bit of a climb up to the cascades behind the house, and the bare earth (except for babianas!), blackened skeletons of mature proteas and shattered rocks exposing their pristine white insides were a reminder of how close the fires come to the farm settlements and how terrifying it must be to try to protect your property and livelihood from these events. We stepping-stoned across the river and admired the deep rock pools that must have been enticing in summer. A small troop of baboons moved away from us, still naturally cautious of Man, and one can only wonder what their source of food is, particularly in these barren winter months.

Hikes were followed by showers and baths with no shortage of water and hot to boot! Luxury for those of us used to Cape Town's 50-litre limit. Card games, gluhwein, music (live), supper, red wine, fire, conversation, bed. Doesn't get much better!

A sojourn in the Cederberg

The first view of the Cederberg is of soaring peaks and jagged outlines of jumbled boulders leaning haphazardly against a grey backdrop of threatening rainclouds. Small pockets of last week's snow dotted the higher reaches, a sign that we had climbed considerably on the rather corrugated gravel road through the pass. Waterfalls cascaded down dark gulleys where leopards might sip at cool pools.
A devastating fire left the landscape practically barren, although to be fair, the cedars that give this wilderness its name have long since been decimated by man's predation, and the natural vegetation could well be low lying and sparse due to the extremes of temperature.

Swathes of purple spread across the slopes where late winter flowers (or very early spring!) made for an eyecatching patchwork among the red rocks. Bursting out of this lunar landscape are millions of exquisite, tiny babianas - without exaggeration, literally every square metre of the Cederberg has at least one of these gems of the Cape Floristic Region, so that every footstep must be taken with care.
The pass abruptly ends in a wide floodplain with farms along the perennial river - our destination. The popularity of hiking in the Cederberg ensures a steady flow of customers for the comfortable accommodation provided all over the wilderness area, and our cottage was next to a strongly flowing river, its source directly above in the Tafelberg peak, with a thundering series of waterfalls and cascades providing a pleasing background accompaniment to otherwise silent surroundings.
Twelve of us were sharing this house and it took less than an hour to rearrange it to everyone's satisfaction, have tea and set off up the track leading to the waterfall. We were there to hike moderately, relax, eat well and enjoy gluhwein before a roaring blaze in the evenings!

Fun times at the feeder

This seed ball is great! We can hold the fort and keep it all to ourselves!

 Repelling boarder! No place to land here! Find your own seed ball.

 That's right! Off you go.

 What's this? Climbing up the rope?

 And now? Missile attack?

 Don't worry, dear, I'll see him off!