Paradise in De Hel

It was one of those clear days in Cape Town when you could see forever - every bush on the mountains of the Table Mountain chain, every rock at the foot of the Hottentots Holland on the far side of False Bay, every layer of mountain range stretching away into the hinterland. No smog, no dust, absolute perfection.
The sea was a deep turquoise in the shallows along the Atlantic seaboard, as it is after a few days of good, strong southeaster, which clears the water to Mediterranean clarity. No wave disturbed the shoreline of the Peninsula.
But I have no photos of this phenomenal day. We walked under the leafy greenery of the greenbelt stretching up from Constantia to Constantia Nek, deep in the kloof called De Hel. It should be called De Paradys. Who could imagine that such tranquillity and lushness existed - certainly not when you are crawling up the nearby road to Hout Bay behind a decrepit truck belching foul-smelling fumes.
Again, that was not our experience.
Robins trilled, and a sombre bulbul sang to us as we sat on a steep path beneath towering pines and oaks, partaking of a little refreshment in the coolth. It was by no means a flat walk, as we climbed quite steeply but imperceptibly, and once again I stopped a number of times to stroke the bark of a tree or photograph an exquisite gladiolus to catch my breath. The soft, damp earth beneath our feet was a joy to walk on in contrast to the harsh tarred roads we crossed from time to time, and the walk came to an end all too soon. Just when I was ready to cross another greenbelt.