A most treasured garden - Kirstenbosch

Ever since son Robert discovered bird photography three weeks ago, I have not had a chance to press the shutter on my P900 and now have to rely on my rather bottom-of-the-range cellphone to capture anything that catches my eye. The results have been less than spectacular as you can imagine, but scenery still meets a certain standard and so today, on our third Saturday tramping the hills of Kirstenbosch, I snapped away while he ran down the battery of the P900 capturing some incredible bird photos despite his currently amateur status. He has a very good eye.
The bug has bitten and I can see that 4km a week will be added to my current hiking mileage, but I can think of very few places I would rather be than on the verdant slopes of Kirstenbosch, the wind blowing in my hair and a host of twittering birds perching among my favourite fynbos. It was always Mother's favourite destination and she would have enjoyed spending far more time there over the years, particularly latterly, and we had a picnic there for her 80th birthday - doubtless one of her most enjoyable. I have a photo of her as a teenager with her mother and father and three sisters (Granny, Grandpa and Aunties!) sitting on the wall at the otter pond, and it gives me tremendous pleasure to think that I am always walking in her footsteps when I am there. The family bench is nearby, opposite the sundial, and will forever be a reminder of her and Dad when pausing to rest under the chestnut tree.

Sauntering over Slangkop

Mixed forecasts for rain and a gloomy outlook did not put us off our hike up Slangkop this morning. As an eternal optimist (and determined not to miss a walk), I focus my attention on the smallest patch of blue sky and tell everyone it is headed our way. And so it was that we set off along the boardwalk to the lighthouse in a little shower. But we all had our rain gear on and in ten minutes it was all over, so thank goodness for optimism. It was also fortunate that there was no breeze as this would have been pretty cool coming in from the south west, and so it was that a delightful time was had on top of the mountain above Kommetjie.
This area has unfortunately become known for having unsavoury characters accosting hikers to relieve them of their valuables, and it would be a great idea to have TMNP rangers doing regular patrols on weekdays to ensure the safety of the general public as these mountains are spectacular in their natural beauty and accessibility. Walking in a large group is always a good idea and today was no exception, with 19 of us enjoying the splendours of early spring in comfortable walking weather. A young girl with a dog ran past us (many women go out hiking or running on their own despite safety warnings) and  I wondered again whether we think we are invincible or that a small dog might be considered protection or whether it is just taking every day as it comes (the latter sounds good).
The clouds cleared and it became almost hot, as we shed the layers used to ward off the rain. Bright yellow daisies stretched across the plateau, with delicate babianas blooming at our feet and a lone gladiolus gracilis peeking out of the sparse undergrowth, still recovering from a fire a few years ago. Apart from being the means by which much of the fynbos regenerates itself, the fires keep the mountains clear of bush and allow for visibility over great distances - another bonus safety factor.
While it is always essential to be aware of possible criminal activity in the mountains, with a bit of planning and discipline there is no need to fear enjoying the great outdoors in this beautiful Peninsula and I would never discourage anyone. These blogs are intended to encourage and inspire.
Another marvellous jaunt in nature!

Signal Hill in bloom

Yesterday's hike would have been one of the more strenuous on the list, had it not been for the fact that we did it in reverse (no, we didn't walk backwards). Rather than taking the gentle slope down Maskew Path on Signal Hill and toiling straight up an almost vertical slope at the end, we did the downhill scramble first. This was not easy, as the shale is very loose on the path and a bit of slipping and sliding got us down a little. The thought that we wouldn't have to climb back up was very comforting.

A few rain showers out to sea made for some spectacular scenes, with billowing clouds and rays of sunlight providing drama, and one of them fell on us but only briefly before the sun came out and we felt its warmth on our faces. The southwesterly wind was chilly and many flowers declined to open on the southern slope of Signal Hill, but for the rest it was an awesome display of early spring. The most abundant were the Moraea miniata (Cape Tulip) and Babiana fragrans which were literally everywhere in a multitude of shades of blue. White daisies mimicked patches of snow and deep yellow African Thistle were beacons of light against the green hillside, slowly recovering from the last fire. In two weeks' time we will see a mass display of pink watsonias which thrive after a burn, and there are many flowers that will make their appearance in September, making another hike in the area very worthwhile.

Having descended to the upper reaches of the suburbs on the Atlantic seaboard, the walk along the line of trees brought welcome shade before we took the gentle incline back to the road at the foot of Lion's Head, pausing frequently to enjoy the views of passing ships and a group of paragliders taking advantage of the southwester. Not a sport I have any desire to participate in!

Lobostemon with raindrops

Babiana fragrans

Very steep and slippery

Some interesting geology

Hot hike on lower slopes of Table Mountain

The weather forecast from the Norwegians (who are slipping, in my opinion) said it would be 11 degrees on Friday, causing most of us to be completely overdressed for a fairly strenuous hike in sweltering conditions, as it turned out (mid to upper 20s). We have had a real Indian summer last week, being easily fooled that it could be spring, and as I write this, it is in fact raining.
Deer park (presumably so called because deer used to roam there) is a pleasant enough walk, although the rough, gravelly downhill track causes a few slips here and there. The main problem is that what goes down must come up, and as we descended further and further, the thought of the tough uphill via the concreted track was a bit alarming.
The cool shade of the pines in the park was a welcome respite and we strolled down the boardwalk alongside the gushing stream that feeds the old wash houses in the ravine where washerwomen did the laundry for the early Cape settlement. It must have been quite a slog up and down what are now the steep roads of Oranjezicht, but perhaps they used pack animals.
Vigilance is always necessary in areas close to houses, as there are signs of habitation a little higher up and a loiterer did in fact approach us asking for food. When given an energy drink, he brought it back and said he didn't drink grape flavour.
The uphill climb was indeed as bad as expected and we stopped every 60 paces to rest and catch our breath. This enabled us to take in the panoramic views of the City Bowl, Signal Hill and Lion's Head, Devil's Peak and of course our magnificent Table Mountain. Sugarbirds perched on pincushions just asking to be photographed and not a tail feather flapped in the windless conditions. I think the heat didn't help the discomfort, and it is definitely a walk for cool weather. Nevertheless, every hike is worthwhile and enjoyed on hindsight!

Noordhoek Peak - or not!

Our hiking destination today was Noordhoek Peak, which boasts panoramic views over Hout Bay, the back table of Table Mountain, and to the south almost to Cape Point. Across the Cape Flats, the mountain ranges were the clearest they have been in a long time, and far below us we could see the sparkling waters of a full Silvermine dam. But we were not on Noordhoek Peak and there was no panoramic view as described. A missed turning led us upward and upward, almost relentlessly for two hours, and we could tell that Noordhoek Peak was well hidden behind the ridge on our left.
Before we began the hike, we all looked nervously at the towering, rocky slopes of the Amphitheatre which holds the valley in its arms and asked hopefully whether we were taking the jeep track. Yes, we were told, just a little way up and then we go down to the jeep track on the left. So we're definitely not doing the Amphitheatre?
This question was asked many times as we trudged ever upwards, our leader's gaze fixed determinedly on the highest point available. We'll turn off just over that outcrop. A lot of mumbling ensued as no turnoff materialised and we were definitely firmly on the Amphitheatre trail. The usual giant's stairway caused some excellent peak cardio as per my Fitbit monitor, and again it was necessary to make frequent stops to admire the many flowers starting to appear after the cold of winter.
By the time we reached the highest part of the Amphitheatre, our next worry was would we turn left and head for the still formidable heights of Noordhoek Peak, and it was with some relief that we could find no path leading in that direction! Despite not getting to see the views we had anticipated, it was still a magnificent mountain morning!

Light at the end of the traffic jams?

Anyone who has had the misfortune of having to negotiate the hell run that is the stretch of road from the bottom of Ou Kaapse Weg through Sun Valley and Capri Village to Kommetjie will be observing the progress of the massive roadworks with bated breath. For years the poor layout of the roads, with multiple traffic lights, double lanes bottlenecking into single lanes in the most inappropriate places, all exacerbated by some of the most unskilled drivers on the planet, has been a source of stress for commuters who spent up to two hours on a bad day getting through 3 intersections.  Some succumbed to the inevitable and sold up, moving from a quiet seaside village that was impossible to leave or get to if you were in a hurry,  to a suburb more connected with the world. Those that remain have become accustomed to adding an hour to travelling time at peak hours, and getting up at 5.30am to 'miss the traffic' is the norm.
Since the road widening began (and one is forever grateful for the foresight of town planners for leaving the space), a miracle has been performed by the contractors.  Estimated to take around 30 months to complete, and with no stop/go allowed (they learned from the 8-year project between Fish Hoek and Muizenberg - some children went through their school days without one clear run), there are definitely signs that they are on the home stretch.
We have been treated to a constantly changing layout, sometimes with one lane, or two, and lately even a surprising third. The lanes change frequently and one can't go shopping and be confident that the same route will be taken on the way home. Night time is even more exciting, with only reflective chevrons to guide you home - the street lights have still to be replaced once the new gutters and islands are in place. The traffic lights move around in 44-gallon drums, but as is the norm, nobody takes much notice of them. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and many feel that running a red light is insignificant in exchange for a place a few cars ahead.
It remains to be seen if these elaborate changes are going to have the desired effect, given that the driving skills of the road users still fall far short of acceptable, let alone competent, and I have a list of potential areas where the best laid plans will probably 'gang aft agley'.  Time will tell.

Memory lane

Yesterday I took a path not travelled since my early teens - the track from Clovelly Country Club along the Silvermine River towards the former Sunbird Nature Reserve. In the late 60s a crowd of us would walk up the valley to visit the friends who managed the reserve and spend the day swimming in a small dam or horseriding on the mountain slopes. We pinched a few carrots from the farm on the way for said horses. These are treasured childhood memories, but yesterday's hike was some 50 years later and traversed the rugged slopes of Trappies Kop and Clovelly mountain as well.
The gentlest southeast breeze (a forerunner of the gales we can expect in the coming months) caressed our backs as we took the steep path up onto the firebreak, pausing to catch our breath and admire the vast expanse of beach at Fish Hoek - the full moon had pulled the plug and it would be a long walk for an early swim!
All along the track, signs of very early spring were evident in the masses of babiana, satyrium and yellow daisies. White daisies lay like snow on the roadside down at the wetlands but sparsely higher up. The views up and down the valley are always a delight, and it is interesting although a little alarming to see how the areas where we used to play have now become completely covered in houses, schools and old age homes. A sad loss of biodiversity in the name of progress.
But the track behind the clubhouse hasn't changed, nor has the tangled mass of alien vegetation lining the river banks. The golf course has perhaps expanded and the greensman's house now has a big fence around it, and the farm fields now lie fallow, but otherwise it was a trip down an otherwise unchanged memory lane.

Water, water everywhere

Despite heavy clouds draping the mountain, we seemed to be in sunshine for much of our slog up to the Cecilia Waterfall on Tuesday. I say slog because at times it felt like putting one foot in front of the other was the only way to make progress, and many pauses for breath were required. It's been a while since we've done this quite arduous yet extremely rewarding upward climb, as winter has been unkind to us by raining on our hiking days, and many of us professed to not remembering how steep it actually was!

The river is running strongly and a couple of the waterfalls made for interesting negotiation. The croaking of frogs along the riverbank was a new and most welcome sound, and there was much chirping going on overhead as the birds enjoyed being in the lee of the wind coming in from the north west. Very few flowers were to be seen until we reached the slopes above Kirstenbosch, where the hairyflower heath grows in abundance, turning the slopes a dusky pink to relieve the general greenery. We passed the protea bushes with the dried out flowers that we had admired earlier in the year and noticed that the patch of liparia (mountain dahlia) that occurs round a rocky outcrop is looking particularly healthy, promising a wonderful display of flowers to come.

The waterfall is doing what all good waterfalls should do, and hopefully the plentiful water supply will encourage the beautiful disa uniflora to thrive on its ledges. Summer will reveal all.

The mountains continue to ooze water, with evidence of streams along the paths and jeep track, and more trees have fallen victim to the vicious gales for which the Cape is famous, with new falls seen on both sides of the ravine, and freshly cut logs littering the slopes where obstructions have been cleared. 

We finished on the downward trail above Kirstenbosch, where the height of the steps has been measured to suit a giant, and many a knee groaned on the way down, but this remains one of the trails not to be missed.