Eventide

Spring has morphed into summer, and with it comes those long evenings at the end of another perfect Cape Town day, golden light bathing the mountains and creating a soothing sense of gentle peace here on the shores of the Atlantic. A light southeaster has flattened the sea, with just a few white horses whipping up their sparkling manes. Easy to imagine them as dolphins carving a carefree path across the surface in joyous celebration of life - oh, to be a dolphin!

High, high above, gulls circle on the thermals, barely visible as they indulge in their favourite pastime. I first discovered that gulls enjoyed this while lying on the lawn one hot Sunday afternoon, gazing up at the sky and watching the activity in my field of view. They formed a little circle and let themselves be whirled upwards, wings motionless, until they disappeared from view. I don't recall seeing any other bird do that apart from raptors.

A constant fly-by of small birds crisscrossed the sky, with the odd bumble bee or butterfly going about their business much closer to the ground. I once saw a white object far, far away - perhaps above the clouds - a weather balloon. A once-in-a-lifetime observation, I would think. 

But best of all are the clouds - wisps that appear and disappear in moments, huge popcorn clouds that tower in ever-expanding ascension, herring-bone clouds, ice clouds that have electric pink and green shimmers. There's always something going on up there. So much to discover and enjoy and bring enormous pleasure into a simple life.

Deer Park at the foot of Table Mountain

Wintry temperatures have returned to Cape Town for a few days, as a pair of cold fronts sweep up from the deep South Atlantic. Various factors allow rain to fall, mainly very heavily along the Garden Route, and a few millimetres added a good amount to the water tanks under the gutters early this morning. As forecast, the rain was very localised, and our walk at the foot of Table Mountain through Deer Park went ahead as scheduled, much to my relief. I tend to get quite agitated at the prospect of a cancelled walk and check the detailed forecasts against the view from my deck every 10 minutes!
What I didn't take into account was the fierce downdraught coming over Table Mountain (although having lived my whole life in Cape Town I should know where the tablecloth comes from!), and was dismayed to find no jacket tucked in a back corner of the boot. Moral of the story - leave your hiking gear in the car, not on the coat rack. A thin shirt is not always ideal hiking clothing. Fortunately, my fellow seasoned hikers were prepared for all eventualities, and I was soon comfortably ensconced in a feather light windcheater that must be added to my wardrobe forthwith.
The descent from Tafelberg Road to the park was by way of a pleasant jeep track offering sweeping views of the City Bowl, Table Mountain, Devil's Peak, Signal Hill/Lion's Head, the harbour and Waterfront, a peek at the stadium in Green Point and Robben Island, and on to the far horizon where the mountains stand in serried rows, fading from blue to grey as they lead to the hinterland. Of course, when we go down, there is the prospect of going up again, and as we descended further into the forest of blackened trees burned in a fire some years ago, it became apparent that it would be quite a climb. Clearing of alien vegetation is taking place and we passed a small team of forestry workers sheltering from the wind among a tumble of picturesque boulders - the boss had driven back up the track, so it was tea time. Piles of hacked up Port Jackson covered the area and, strangely, many of the dead pines were snapped off at varying distances up the trunks, some leaning forever entangled in the branches of other trees and others across the forest floor. Hard to imagine the purpose if not natural destruction.
A lovely stream tumbles through the park and further up we rested on the banks where the original dam used by laundrywomen for the young Cape settlement is situated. An easy wooden walkway winds down the ravine to the old wash houses, but we didn't go that route in view of the steepness of the climb ahead. The sun was peeping through the clouds and the wind had dropped - jackets were shed and coffee was imbibed.
The hill climb was practically straight with only an occasional bend in the road, and it was not for nothing that this section of track had been roughly concreted! No vehicle would have made it up in wet conditions and probably even in dry due to slipperiness of the surface, and I can almost guarantee a few of us will have sore calf muscles tomorrow. The incline was maybe 45 degrees and it gave us many opportunities to gaze in wonderment at the imposing sandstone face of our favourite mountain. Well-deserved beers all round and a good lunch!

People can be strange

When I left the mall building today, my exit was obstructed by a large vehicle parked across the bottom of the ramp. A gentleman in the driver's seat paid scant attention as I pulled up my trolley to assess the situation - was there enough room to squeeze the trolley between the wall and the car, and should I go left or right? Before I could decide, a woman laden with parcels bustled down the ramp behind me and pushed past. They then had a conversation about me, as if I were not there.

She: There's an irate lady standing here. We'd better hurry and get out of her way. (Irate? How did she know I was irate? They would have known if I was irate! I was actually patiently waiting now that I knew they would be moving off, idly picking my teeth of a bothersome piece of lettuce from a light lunch.)

He: She could just go around, you know. (I was assessing whether their car would be scratched if I did.)

She: Yes, the other lady did. (So they had been there a while!)

And off they drove, secure in the knowledge that they had every right to park like a taxi, obstruct free access for people entering and exiting the building, and the right to criticise, judge and be downright rude to those they inconvenienced.

How happy I am that they drove off, that I didn't bother to enter into any light banter, and most importantly, that I don't count them among my acquaintances or friends.

Grow-it-yourself dilemma

The boubou is singing from the boughs of the bougainvillea and the double-collared sunbird sips from the scarlet bottlebrush. But at my feet I survey the devastation caused by a visit from the guinea fowl. It has pecked away at every leaf on the spinach I planted last week, and scratched away at the soil around the neat rows of seedlings waiting to establish themselves. It is probably a partner in crime with the porcupine, who helped himself to my spinach a while back. That is growing back apace, but all can be whipped away in the night without warning. The mole is causing even more devastation, although currently favouring tunnelling under the fence between us and the neighbour, leaving caverns beneath a thin layer of grass into which I regularly fall up to my knees. It's only a matter of time before the baboon troops return, although they are currently in limbo without the alpha males which have been 'culled' as a restraining measure - how foolish Man is to selfishly destroy anything that irks him. An isolated visit from two pregnant females recently must have been out of desperation.
Many of us want to make ourselves less reliant on the foods that are produced commercially by growing our own vegetables and fruits, and a great deal of time, money and effort goes into setting up a vegetable patch or orchard. These are a magnet for the local wildlife, particularly after the severe drought of last summer and what may be an ongoing situation here in the Cape, with weather patterns entering unknown territory. Frequent wildfires, often deliberately set, have destroyed most of their natural foraging, and for those of us who live on the urban fringe, there is very little that can be done to deter them.
A number of wooden planters on my balcony have meanwhile solved the problem of growing herbs and gooseberries without snails, caterpillars and assorted pests having easy access, and even the hadedah has visited a few times to peck out the grubs that live in the soil - that at least can be classed as natural pest control! 

 

 

Clockwise round Lion's Head

Will I ever walk around Lion's Head on a cool day? That is a question we must have all been asking ourselves as we set off this morning to do the clockwise route from the first car park. A howling southeaster kept temperatures acceptable in the southern suburbs, but as usual, Table Mountain cradled the Mother City in its rocky embrace and protected all from being blown about - hence a sizzling start as we (fortunately) headed downhill at the start of our hike.
A short distance down Kloofnek, the uphill track begins where some previous giant set log steps into the loose and very slippery light gravel path. Hauling ourselves up knee-high treads got the heart rates going and in no time we were stopping to admire the view from every available vantage point in the hopes of picking up a cooling breeze from the Atlantic far below. It was not to be, and only when we reached the little copse of pine trees at the lookout above Camps Bay did we get some relief and a much needed water break. This part of the hike is exceptionally beautiful, with Table Mountain and the Twelve Apostles showcasing themselves, dipping their feet in the azure waters stretching to the far horizon. Massive container ships slid by tiny fishing boats heading out in search of fruits of the sea, and closer by, tall construction cranes continued their seemingly endless task of adding to the concrete jungle creeping higher and higher up the slopes above Clifton.
Welcome shade from soaring eucalyptus helped us on our way to the favourite coffee break site overlooking the beaches below and I could easily have spent an hour just watching the waves crashing against the granite boulders that characterise the coastline. Soothing for the soul!
And then onwards and upwards, out of the shade and into some pretty severe sunshine, until we reached just the right spot and a gentle breeze provided succour for the perspiring hikers. The hillside was ablaze with pink vygies, almost as impressive as the watsonias seen on Table Mountain last week, and many tiny micranthus alopecuroides were a delight to the eye. With mountains, trees, sea and fynbos, this is one of the most scenic hikes, although there may be a lot in favour of doing it in the cooler months!

A bevy of birds

The birds in my garden may not be exotic, but they are comfortably familiar to a very amateur birder such as myself. The variety and characteristics of each little bird make it easy to understand why so many people devote a lifetime to the hobby of twitching - travelling vast distances to briefly see a bird in an unusual location, or sometimes not even see it, or sitting silently for hours in a wooden hut at the edge of a lagoon in winter with binoculars trained on a reed bed, waiting for an elusive crake to emerge. For the moment, I am more than happy to observe little brown jobs from the comfort of my deck as they flit in and out of view, attracted by the plants, bits of fruit, suet ball and seed ball. The coprosma which bore prolific berries for 30 years and sustained generations of Cape White Eyes succumbed to last summer's intense heat and drought, which was a great shame as I prefer birds to feed naturally, but I do want to keep them in the garden. The dreadful sticky mess that the discarded seeds and overripe berries made on the brick paving won't be missed, though!
Tuesday's light rain at dawn was just what the birds wanted, and they partied en masse in the dripping undergrowth, preening and puffing out their little chests in joyous celebration of bathtime. The list was long: southern boubou, fiscal flycatcher, Cape robin chat, weaver, canary, Cape White Eye, house sparrow, rock pigeon, turtle dove, laughing dove, bulbul, lesser double-collared sunbird and even a lone hadedah. I didn't know where to look first and there was just no chance of a photo! But here are some from another time.

A slightly eventful stroll at Soetwater

Turned out to be quite an eventful walk today! Early morning rain, forecast to the millimetre and time by our Norwegian weathermen, cleared the air well before it was time to begin our walk from the Kom along the beachfront to as far as we felt like it in Soetwater Coastal Conservancy. The area is a breeding ground for the oystercatcher, thick-knee (dikkop) and blacksmith plover (aka lapwing) and I felt quite bad walking through the coastal scrub and grassy patches, while they screeched overhead and divebombed within 2 feet of our heads in typical distraction behaviour, while they protected their eggs/offspring. We were very careful where we put our feet and definitely did no damage, but perhaps this is not the ideal time of year for that small but productive bit of shoreline. Little wooden huts dotted the landscape, each occupied by an official of Sanparks, who munched on sandwiches and waved as we strolled by. No idea what the purpose was.
The terns who summer on the Island in Kommetjie flocked spectacularly as we passed by, doing a mini murmuration as they swooped and swept in all directions before settling down on the rocks, beaks to the breeze. A couple of herons stood alertly still, ever watchful when not hunting fish in the shallows. Gulls and cormorants added to the birdlife, but there was no sign of the many small birds that are found at Soetwater - perhaps it was too chilly still as the sun was hiding. The clouds combined with a glassy sea made for beautiful scenes as they alternated between puffy popcorn white to charcoal, and an occasional drop fell on us, although mostly when the sky directly overhead was blue - such is the nature of the weather here.
We met up with the man from the Environmental Centre, who was poking around in the bushes looking for evidence or even the goods from the previous night's break-in at the Centre. They had one last week as well, and one can only mourn the loss of the fabric of society that causes such incidents, particularly when the goods are recovered via a 'middle man' who is aware of the perpetrators.
The Centre is beautifully set up with accommodation and educational facilities for schoolchildren who come there on day visits and also up to a week, and of course adults are just big schoolchildren who also need to find out new things, so we went on a brief tour of the small bird sanctuary and snake park. What a treat! Definitely to be on your list of Things To Do.
The excitement began when a few young guineafowl escaped from the cage and I shooed them back in, at the same time catching my arm on a sharp piece of protruding metal and gouging a line of flesh from which blood poured. It was the perfect opportunity for the young lady in the office to practice her first aid skills and very good they were. The bandage looked very impressive and I decided I would keep it on for at least three days! After the birds, it was time for the snakes, just as the heavens opened and the blackest cloud dumped its contents on us. How exciting that we were inside at the very time we needed to be!
The snakes were doing what all good snakes do when feeling cold - sleeping while waiting for food. We were invited to stroke the non-venomous snakes to familiarise ourselves with different types of scales - they were cool and smooth, not at all slippery as some believe and one or two of us did the touch test while others preferred to step back. A fear of snakes is deeply ingrained in the human psyche. We were told that they hadn't been fed yet, and it was soon demonstrated that a sleeping, hungry snake is not to be trifled with. As I leaned forward with the camera to take a photo of the handler removing a carpet python from its cage, I experienced first-hand the swiftness of a strike as the snake sank its considerable fangs into his hand. I have heard that the bite of a python is very painful, and the amount of blood drawn showed how much damage can be done even though not life threatening. It's not every day one can see a snake bite up close and personal - the only thing that surprised me was that it wasn't my hand that was the victim!
We finished our walk with a very pleasant lunch in the village under an ancient milkwood, and a visit to the doctor saw me relieved of a large sum of money, jabbed with an anti-tetanus, and steri-stripped together. An exciting day indeed!

Pigeon saga from the past

Rooikrantz to Buffels Bay on a cool day

Another cool day dawned, perfect for hiking down at Cape Point, with the teensiest threat of rain. A bank of clouds on the far horizon looked as though it would pass harmlessly by, and only a slight northwester blew over the plateau as we drove up to the small parking area above Rooikrantz, famed for its fishing spot down on the ledges where intrepid and very fit rod fishermen spend most of the summer casting for yellowtail. Our route was down the rocky path heading north towards Buffels Bay and we were grateful for the cloud cover once in the lee of the Peninsula, as the November sun is already fierce by 9.30. The current low pressure over Cape Town is keeping the sea glassy on both sides and making conditions ideal for all kinds of watercraft - skiboats, Kalk Bay fishing boats, sport fishing boats perhaps looking for tuna, and a couple of kayakers with rods fixed at the back (a new mode of fishing for those not able to lay out the kind of cash needed for more traditional vessels).
No whales, dolphins, seals or seabirds were in evidence, so perhaps it wasn't a great day for fishing, and the only wildlife we saw on our very pleasant hike along the seashore was a lone dassie and a family of ostriches.
Tea and sticky buns were partaken of, perched on comfortable slabs of rock that are typical of the geography here, and we weren't even disturbed by the local troop of raiding baboons, who must have been occupied elsewhere. Perhaps if we had been cooking boerewors they would have materialised from the thickets of milkwood behind us, as they do on summer weekends when Buffels Bay is a hive of activity with picnickers being a huge drawcard.
The long walk up the road from the beach to the visitors' centre was accompanied by a cooling headwind and just before reaching the cars, we were treated to a sighting of a small herd of bontebok with two babies (bontebokkies?) - something really special.
From time to time, a few drops fell from a grey cloud overhead, but in the main the rain fell on either side of us (strange how that happens), and all agreed that it had been an extremely pleasant, temperate and not onerous hike - it's not always that way!

Pink perfection on the slopes of Table Mountain

After Friday's heat on Signal Hill, the forecast of a drop of rain over Table Mountain today was a welcome relief, even though it didn't happen! A cool breeze from the north west helped prevent heat exhaustion as we staggered from the Kloof Nek car park pretty much directly up the very high steps of the path to the beacon overlooking Camps Bay, on the right-hand side of Table Mountain. This is not a climb for those who do not enjoy steep uphills (probably most of us), but is preferable to ending a long hike on an ascent. The last time we did this walk, we started at the end of Tafelberg Road, going up the zigzag to join the contour path and head towards the cable station. The good thing about today's hike was that we knew, once we had conquered the initial climb, it would be flat and downhill for the rest of the way. A strong wind was blowing on the Camps Bay side and only a few of us ventured past the beacon to admire the awesome view - the fruits of our considerable labour. (I must point out here that we were overtaken by a number of young people who were actually running up!)
The very narrow contour path, with its steep drop on the left, requires meticulous attention to foot placement, with many loose rocks, sandy surfaces making it dangerously slippery in places, and high ledges to be negotiated, and so we stopped more than we would normally, just to take in our surroundings - admiring the soaring cliff faces, watching the cable cars slip silently above us, gazing into the far distant hinterland - and also to let faster young hikers overtake us, hell-bent on reaching the top of Table Mountain before lunch.
Today was another first for me on a hike - I measured my length on this rocky path and found it to be 5'2". Despite using a hiking stick for stability, with my ears still being blocked my balance could be better, and somehow I got a loop from one bootlace caught in the eyelet of the other boot - something you couldn't do if you were offered a million dollars - and of course with both feet tied together there was only one way to go! Fortunately I fell flat on my face to the right into a tussock of grass and not to the left, where I would have ended up far further down the mountain than I might have liked!
The cloud cover meant high humidity and there was more water trickling down my neck than in the two remaining waterfalls that are in evidence at this time of year, and a break in the clouds towards the end of the walk turned up the heat just as we reached the zigzag down to the cars. We took our time here, as the most spectacular mass display of watsonia borbonica lay before us. On our last visit, the area had recently been burned and the bare mountainside was just starting to recover. Tufts of leaves had emerged like dots on a Dalmatian, looking as though a keen gardener had been at work laying out a formal garden. These corms thrive after a fire and the evidence was there in breathtaking pink, head high as far as the eye could see. The photos give a fair idea, but a short walk from the road below is highly recommended to experience it for yourself.