Those wooden giraffes

  What possesses tourists who succumb to the lure of a 12ft wooden giraffe? Do they think there is room in the aircraft galley for it, or that it will survive a trip in the plane's hold?
  Airports have rooms specially set aside for decapitated giraffes. They eventually get used as fire wood for the end-of-the-year staff party, where we suspect that all the confiscated items are redistributed among the attendees.
  I must admit that, even for me as a local, these giraffes exude great charm. It is a long-held dream of mine to put one under the milkwood tree in my front garden, where its head can poke through the foliage and drivers-by can catch it in their peripheral vision, causing a neck-jerk reaction and almost certainly some business for paramedics and panel beaters.I suppose that would be one way I could contribute to the economy.
  I really only need the head end, so if anyone wants to share the cost and part with the top half, please call me.

Toasters and tomatoes

My toaster popped its last piece of toast the other day, and despite He Who Can Fix Anything's most valiant efforts, it was declared  beyond salvation, particularly as a new one only costs R129. I scratched around in the pot drawer, where I knew we had one of those toasters you use on the gas, and we used that for a few days, but the time it took and the amount of gas used made the exercise fairly pointless.

So I hied me off to Clicks and bought a lovely new toaster, which came with a 3-page manual on how to use it - admittedly most of it was the usual warnings on not to use it in the bath or pull the plug out by the cord, but please, can there really be anybody in the world who needs instructions on a toaster? I can only imagine this is to cover themselves again lawsuits from the relatives of people who have electrocuted themselves.

While I was at the mall, I decided to have an early lunch of scrambled egg and rye, which came with cherry tomatoes. You will be familiar with the difficulty involved in piercing the skin of a tomato with anything less than a surgeon's scalpel, and I stabbed ineffectually at one with the prongs of a fork. Of course, the pressure caused the slightly cooked tomato to explode and send a projectile of juice and seeds a considerable distance. I managed to mop up the mess on the bench seat next to me, but couldn't bring myself to lean over and wipe the sleeve of the old lady at the table next door. I was barely able to control my laughter as she mopped at the splatter on the table in front of her, seemingly unaware of what it was or where it came from. The reason she seemed a bit out of it was because her companion, a woman somewhat younger than her, had not stopped talking since they sat down, and it was all about tigers. She had read somewhere that a man had kept a tiger in his flat for 5 years without anyone knowing and she said: "Now tell me that nobody heard the tiger roar?" Have you ever heard a tiger roar? I was already sniggering into my scrambled eggs, so the tomato juice story just made everything worse. By then I had had enough of the tiger saga and her droning, so I paid the bill and scuttled off before anything else untoward happened.

I'm pleased to say I successfully made 3 slices of toast without any incident!

A camping toaster

A chilly hike there and back

You have to ask yourself why we must have a strong southeaster in June when it is supposed to be our November wind, and then you must ask yourself who would go hiking on top of a mountain in the teeth of the wind, almost in the cloud cover? Why, the Flying Tortoises, of course! Seldom daunted by the weather except when the rain is actually falling (we sometimes have the good fortune to get back to the cars just in time), we set off from the Silvermine dam carpark, bound for the Elephant's Eye cave. There was much muttering about the cold wind, and even I put on a woolly cap and one glove (I think I left the other one in Yorkshire!). Unfortunately I hold my walking stick in my left hand and the glove was right-handed, so it didn't serve the purpose it should have, and I really should just get another pair.
We were up there with another hiking group recently and so the need to actually trek all the way up to the cave receded as we proceeded, and we took a bit of a downhill to see whether the waterfall was worth seeing. Having crossed a happily gushing river further up, it was disappointing to find a little trickle, until we realised we were on the wrong side of the buttress and nowhere near the waterfall! Back up to the path, giving us a good climb, and then on to the lookout hut. From there we had respite from the wind and a wonderful view of the cave, so decided to see it from that angle today. Coffee and snacks were consumed while we enjoyed the vista below - still cold and cloud cover over Constantiaberg, but bright sunshine behind us over False Bay.
The fynbos is in its winter coat, and four or so species of Erica, many fine specimens of protea cynaroides and slopes of pale green leucadendron were the order of the day. Spring will bring a feast for the eyes.

My favourite things

We are constantly exhorted to think of things we are grateful for and make a list to remind us when we are feeling a little dispirited. It is said that an attitude of gratitude brings good things, and there is no doubt that is true. Count your blessings and you will feel your spirits lift; if you worry about things, you will feel the cloud of gloom hanging over you. It is through the little things that we can gain the greatest joy in life.

I can think of hundreds of things that make me happy, but here are just a few:

Watching the sun set - somehow, even on the cloudiest of days, a small gap appears on the horizon at just the right time.

Seeing the Black Sparrowhawk alight on a branch of the dead tree nearby, which allows the best possible view of this magnificent raptor.

The panicked scattering of pigeons who have spotted the sparrowhawk and fly so incredibly fast and skilfully as they thwart its hunt.
The disciplined v-formation of the sacred ibis that fly over my house twice a day, the quiet swish of their flight the only sound at dawn.
The crashing of the waves at the Kom when the Atlantic swell is pushing in from the deep southern ocean.

The amazing clouds that scud across the sky, melting away and reappearing at will.

These things are happening all around me as I write this. Imagine how long I could go on for - this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Don't look for big things to be grateful for - appreciate whatever you are surrounded by and you cannot fail to feel lighthearted.

Staying ahead of the weather

Our second flat walk of the week (no uphill at all) saw us taking advantage of the last good weather before the cold front was due to hit Cape Town. It was difficult to envision the strong winds and heavy rain forecast from midday as we set out towards the Lower Tokai Plantation in warm sunshine and cloudless skies, with only a breeze at our backs. This strengthened slightly as we progressed and a band of high cloud passed rapidly overhead and disappeared inland.
The river that winds through the forest had water in it and looked clean, but was nowhere near what one would like to see on the winter solstice, when we should have already had a substantial amount of our winter rainfall. We can only hope that winter is late in coming.
It's always an enjoyable walk under the pine trees, with our footsteps softened by a decades-old layer of pine needles. The tree tops swayed to and fro in a slow dance of the trees, the wind soughing in the branches to remind us that outside the shelter of the forest it was waiting for us.
We crossed the road and continued in the open meadow where the plantation trees were removed some years back and the fynbos has re-established itself and found ourselves shedding a few layers as the sun was warm and there was still no sign of the cold front. The path soon petered out and the fynbos became too thick to push through, so there was no alternative but to climb through the barbed wire fence at the side of the road. One can only imagine that the sight of some pensioners on all fours with walking sticks in various stages of climbing through a fence caused a good laugh for those driving past. It certainly provided us with plenty!
We finished our walk well pleased that we had not been put off by a bad weather forecast, but an hour and a half later, a gale blew up in the blink of an eye, black clouds rolled over the mountains and the rain came down. Well timed.

Dodge those demos!

Is it only me, or do all of the 'miracle' products demonstrated at expos and flea markets only work for the demonstrator?
I have a drawer full of vegetable peelers that can do everything except cook the food - slice, trim, de-eye, julienne, radish roses, chips, etc. But all I can manage is to scrape off the outer skin rather inadequately, mainly because the implement is not a shape that easily fits into my hand and is perhaps better wielded by a man. The cutting blade is so sharp as to be positively dangerous, and yet I cannot buy a kitchen knife that can slice a tomato. I can finely shred my nails and finger tips, but struggle with peeling potatoes. And as for the 'attachments' that make these peelers even more versatile, say no more. I defy anyone to remember what they actually do by the time you get home.
Another scam is the cleaning lotion that will turn the filthiest pots and ovens into sparkling new condition. You think that your oven doesn't remotely resemble the charred, grease-encrusted bit of metal that the man is demonstrating the product on. When you try it at home, absolutely no results! My favourite way of cleaning stubborn ovens is to buy a new one!
I am determined to no longer stop to watch any demonstrations, no matter how smooth-talking and charming the young man is, although I can only admire their skill in persuasiveness and public speaking (there must be a better career out there). I am absolutely certain that the product will not work for me. I have a cupboard full of proof!

Walk on the wild side

After some quite uphill climbs over the last few weeks, we did a completely flat beach walk yesterday down at the Cape of Good Hope. This is the promontory to the right of Cape Point and can be reached via a boardwalk trail from the upper Cape Point parking area, or by road winding down from the plateau. A common misconception is that the Cape of Good Hope is the southern tip of Africa, based on the misbelief that the Cape was the dividing point between the Atlantic and Indian Oceans. Today, geographic knowledge confirms that the southernmost point of Africa is Cape Agulhas, about 150km to the east/southeast. The  currents of the two oceans meet at that point. 
We set off from the bottom parking area and headed up the coastline towards Platboom, an unchallenging but very pleasant walk along shelly beaches among dune vegetation that has adapted to the harsh growing conditions in this part of the world. We walked in the fresh footsteps of the eland, the largest antelope species, but they must have passed much earlier and wandered up onto the grassy slopes above us, as they were nowhere to be seen. 
Hundreds of cormorants passed in straggling trails of flight, and a pair of oystercatchers enjoyed a bath in a rock pool - nice to see a different aspect of behaviour. Sacred ibis pecked purposefully on the sand, and it was soon apparent why. The sandhoppers that feed on washed up kelp live in their millions just under the surface, creating a porous expanse of spongy sand for those huge curved beaks to dip into and feast. 
The wind was blowing offshore and the day was warm - hopefully the promised rain on Friday will materialise - and the flat slabs of rock provided good seating for our coffee break, as we enjoyed the spectacle of the huge swells rising over the reefs and crashing into snow white spume along the rocky shoreline. Heaps of kelp stranded high up the beach were testimony to last week's heavy seas.
A real treat was the arrival of a small troop of baboons, many with small babies clinging to their bellies. They came to do what all good baboons do - forage down at the beach for the food. They showed no interest in us as a source of food (not us, but the contents of our backpacks) and we all passed through the troop as we would any passersby on the beach. Proof that mutual respect allows for harmonious living.
The other common resident of the reserve, the ostrich, was observed displaying his beautiful feathers to an interested female. It was an impressive show and the female responded very favourably by lifting her wings and shaking her feathers as she led him off to a more secluded spot. We will keep a lookout for their chicks on another visit!

A short hike on a beautiful day next to the sea. Who could ask for more?

Taking it easy

May was the season of sunsets, with spectacular light shows every evening to cast a glow upon the mountains of the Peninsula and soothe our souls before the long dark nights of winter - compliments of Eskom and loadshedding! We are now only 5 days from true winter, the solstice, after which the sun will drift south again and the days will become longer. Here at the southwestern tip of Africa, our winters are in fact very mild compared to inland, where temperatures regularly drop to freezing and below, while we seldom get down to 8 degrees at night, apart from this last week when a particularly icy wind blew in from the South Atlantic.
June has brought us many of those magnificent late autumn days, when winter is not quite upon us and the sun is still warm on our upturned faces, the skies blue and cloudless and the wind but a zephyr. The early morning and late afternoon light has a special quality at this time of year, a softness rather than the bright glare of summer, gently reflecting off the greenery of the wet season. Driving over Ou Kaapse Weg behind a slow truck is pure pleasure, as it allows one to cast a quick glance at the fynbos that is so richly abundant on the mountain, which is a giant sponge and has seeps and waterfalls almost all year. The sudden sight of a back-lit pink Erica is startling in its simple beauty, and the grasses on the verges fill one with awe as they light up like soft candles in the early sun.
We should not always be in a hurry, but rather take the time to observe what is so freely given  by Nature to feed our senses. Whatever we are going to will still be there a bit later.

Down into The Glen

A typical June day in Cape Town - blue skies, no wind, cool air - saw us taking a trail from the Lion's Head car park down into The Glen, the deep ravine that separates Lion's Head from Table Mountain. Rugged steps, some in concrete, took us down into the depths on a continuous downhill towards the sea far below - reminding us of the continuous uphill we would face on the way back. As soon as we were in the ravine, all traffic noise from the busy road over Kloof Nek was silenced and we were one with nature. Thick-trunked stone pines towered overhead, the occasional crack and crash of a pine cone indicating the presence of grey squirrels chasing each other at high speed from branch to branch, their agility a delight to watch.
The baby's cry of a black sparrowhawk led our eyes up into the branches again, where a large and very tidy nest could be seen in the highest branches. The bird had flown and the call receded, but it is quite possible that there were nestlings. We came upon The Glen picnic area bathed in sunshine filtered through the trees, a pleasant patch of green overlooking the ravine where the river runs down through the residential area, with the Round House a little further down. This was a hunting ground of Lord Charles Somerset in the 1800s. It seems that he had hunting lodges everywhere and possibly spent very little of his time at the office, a scenario that has perpetuated itself into current office bearers!
A descent of just over 180m brought us down to the delightful, secluded Glen Beach, home to some of the most expensive residential property in the country, but thankfully very tasteful and unobtrusive. It was practically deserted apart from two girls bravely bodyboarding in the icy surf, but I would hate to live there on a summer weekend when the public descend en masse. I don't actively seek crowded places.
After sunning ourselves on the conveniently placed granite boulders that embrace this cove, we set off uphill again, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that the uphill was only slightly more strenuous than the downhill - helped no doubt by the chilly air.
A real treat was to see a patch of babiana and a lone gladiolus maculata on the path at the foot of Lion's Head - flowering two months early. They are among a large number of species that are displaying unusual behaviour, with sightings completely out of season. Hopefully this means that rain will occur out of season as well!

Wine and Art in the Hemel-en-Aarde valley

Our Wine Appreciation Group sallied off to the FynArts Festival at Hermanus this week, to take in a bit of culture with the wine tastings! A few days out there is like a holiday, with the champagne quality of the air (how appropriate) and beautiful mountains to hike in. We booked a few events, with some staying longer than others, and I am pleased to say that, for me, they exceeded my expectations by a long way.
The weather did not cooperate, but what is a strong wind and some rain when you are out on an adventure? It's just Nature at work to shake us up a little. We were to go by bus from Whale Haven to 5 wine farms in the gorgeous Hemel-en-Aarde valley behind Hermanus, and nearly choked on the first glass of Pinot Noir when our transport arrived. Not a bus, but two typical safari vehicles (three tiers of seats fixed to a large bakkie, with canvas roof and side flaps. Not quite what we needed in the inclement weather.
We clambered up a stepladder to reach the seats, 5 in one and 6 in the other, with two young girls who would be giving us a little information on each art exhibition at the wineries. (At this stage we were not expecting more than a glass of wine at one venue, but things improved as the morning went on and substantial amounts were quaffed.) It was not actually raining as we headed off, so one side of the canvas was rolled up to ensure unobstructed views of the game (there was none, so we never found out why the safari vehicles), and blankets were soon draped all over us to keep out some of the very cold wind, as we are currently in the grip of very low temperatures in the country.
By great good fortune, we managed to be inside each of the tasting/exhibition rooms while it was raining, and in the vehicles while it was not. We were treated to scenes of great beauty, with rainbows stretching across the valley as each cloudburst approached, and we enjoyed a good amount of sunshine which enabled us to stroll around a little, although we were on a bit of a tight schedule and had to swig the wine rather inelegantly at times.
It was such an enjoyable outing, with much laughter, a few complaints that were ignored, some interesting art and outstanding wines. Definitely to be repeated. The pictures don't give any idea how cold it was, though!