Contemplation

Today was nothing short of perfect, weatherwise, in Kommetjie. A stunner of an autumn day that only Cape Town can produce, with the lightest of southerly winds creating an offshore flow that flattened the sea, with the passing cold front pushing in a shore break of at least six foot. Expert surfers braved the Outer Kom and big breaks towards the lighthouse and some marvellous rides were observed by those enjoying a laze on the rocks or the occasional benches that line the path along the bay.
The benches have been either destroyed by storms over the years, or lately simply vandalised by unwelcome visitors, but there is now a trend of replacing them with indestructible recycled plastic in an aesthetically pleasing faux wood form, and local families have placed memorial plaques on some. This is, to me, one of the very best ways to be remembered, by seeing the name of an old friend and sitting down to join them in spirit, with one of the finest sea views in the world to be enjoyed for eternity. It is sad that there are already four of these plaques in memory of friends, and it is a reminder of our limited time on this planet and how we should live each day as if it is our last, with no regrets or missed opportunities, to be kind whenever possible, and most of all to treat ourselves with love and respect. The material things of life are as nothing when compared to the beauty of this place, and the things that cause us stress, unhappiness, anger and frustration are but fleeting moments of no consequence in the bigger picture of Life, if we would constantly remind ourselves of this. Sit down on one of these benches one day and watch the waves rolling endlessly onto the shore. You will feel it too.

View across the bay

Today is a public holiday, Freedom Day, but that is of no significance to me. It is my birthday and I like to think that is the reason for a day off! To celebrate, and coincidentally, it's a hiking day and so I set off early for Simon's Town to tackle the Old Mule Track up to the blockhouses above Seaforth. This is one of the first walks I did last year, and I remember looking up and thinking, we can't possibly be walking up there - the blockhouse was barely visible to the naked eye. I moaned like a stuck pig the whole way, I'm sure.
Again it was tough going. The initial uphill is about 45 degrees and it certainly raised the heart rate - one of the reasons we climb mountains, but once it started to zigzag the track was fair, although the recent rain has dislodged lots of little rocks, making for tricky negotiation in places. We climbed to 340m over 2km and it was fortuitous that heavy cloud and threats of rain later kept us cool, although we still managed to sweat a bit! With no shade, it would have been unbearably hot. The vegetation is starting to recover after the devastating fire of about 18 months ago, and a Spring stroll will be a must when the flowers bloom. This area is particularly blessed with abundant lobostemon fruticosus, which ranks among my favourite fynbos. Regrettably there is heavy infestation of the lower slopes with that evil alien Port Jackson, and it is a pity that some effort is not being made to employ people to root this out while there is even the slightest chance of eradication.
Reaching the blockhouse enabled us to lift our eyes from the rough track and take in the spectacular views, right across to the Karbonkelberg in Hout Bay, with Chapman's Peak just in front, and Elsie's Peak reaching the shores of False Bay. Cloud and haze obstructed the views of the Hottentots Holland mountains, but no matter, it means that we are getting more of the rain that is so desperately needed, and even the sight of rain over Constantiaberg did not faze us. We would happily get wet.
A highlight of the hike was the sound of voices from various vantage points, singing to me for my birthday. How special was that! Thank you, kind friends and fellow hikers.
The trip down was somewhat more tricky as the loose stones were treacherous for those with uncertain footing and it took a while to get back to the cars. My delightful doggie, Cleo, was an excellent lookout, keeping slightly ahead and standing on rocks to make sure all was clear while always looking back to see where I was. Our pace may have been too slow for her, but she didn't complain!

Cleo counting the flock

Cleo on lookout duty

Karbonkelberg hiding behind Chapman's Peak far left distance

False Bay and Constantiaberg at far left

Hikers like hairs on a hyena's back

Shipwreck Trail

Not for nothing is the Cape Peninsula known as the Cape of Storms - the coastline is literally littered with the remains of hundreds of vessels from ancient to modern times. The Shipwreck Trail at Cape Point takes you from the car park at Olifantsbos down the coast to the Thomas T Tucker and the Nolloth. The internet gives ample coverage to these wrecks and they make for an interesting read.
Yesterday we had good rains over the Peninsula, and it was a perfect day for a beach walk - firm sand underfoot, massive waves rearing and crashing on the right and a cool westerly coming in from the sea to make hiking a pleasure.
The recent fire nearby seems to have dispersed the usual small herds of bontebok that frequent Olifantsbos, and no ostriches were seen, although we followed the fresh tracks of one for quite a while. The usual oystercatchers, heron and cormorants posed for photos along the way, but otherwise the sparse vegetation offered no grazing for wildlife. One exciting find was an argonaut or paper nautilus, the egg sac of a pelagic octopus. It was almost perfect and I remember as a child going down to Fish Hoek beach at dawn in May to see if any had washed up (this is the time of year they are found), before the raiding gulls had a chance to peck at the shell and destroy its delicate perfection. A very special find, particularly in the rough surf conditions.
The cottage on the Hoerikwagga Trail is tucked away in the shadow of an outcrop (rather cold in winter!) and looks over the beach approaching the Thomas T Tucker remains - a very desirable stay for those who really want to be isolated on the far southwestern tip of Africa. We trudged on, passing a massive whale vertebra lodged high up on the beach - too heavy to carry back for a garden feature - and poked around the bits and pieces of wreck that are sometimes hidden and sometimes exposed, depending on how the sand has been blown in the prevailing winds. The only large boulder on the beach provided welcome shelter for those who didn't like the breeze, and we tucked into our coffee and snacks to give us energy for the hill climb to come.
Around the corner was the wreck of the Nolloth, right on the shoreline. This fairly recent shipwreck (1965) caused a bit of a stir as its main cargo was liquor and customs officials rushed to the site to salvage it before the locals could have a party, to their great disappointment.
From there, we climbed quite steeply up to the ridge through low fynbos, affording us spectacular views in all directions. It was surprising to see what a distance we had covered with very little effort. The resident trio of bontebok (one with a horn missing) were slightly nervous and took off at an easy lope, disappearing over the rocky landscape, and an easy hour's walk took us back to the cars via a gully, where last night's rain had run down the path in a rivulet that showed a fair amount of erosion, taking the path of least resistance in its rush to the sea. Altogether a very pleasant way to round off the perfect morning.

In memoriam

Over the years, on my many visits to Kirstenbosch, I would sit on the bench along the pathway leading to the Otter Pond, near the sundial, and gaze out enraptured with my surroundings and particularly the view across to the far mountains. I sat on that particular bench because it 'belongs' to Great Uncle Norman and Great Aunt Louis and bears a plaque in remembrance of them. As time has passed, the trees and new vegetation have obscured the view, but it still remains my favourite bench. Soon a new plaque will be fixed to the backrest, to be read and wondered about by others who come to sit in quiet contemplation in these gardens. Mom and Dad loved Kirstenbosch and were longstanding members of the Botanical Society, which enabled them to access the gardens at a very reasonable rate and keep up to date on related matters. Our garden at home was filled with indigenous plants bought at the annual sale and more recently from the well-stocked nursery.
Yesterday I passed by the gates, after a good hike at the foot of Table Mountain, and my reluctance to go back to mundane chores on such a glorious autumn day in Cape Town easily twisted my steering wheel in the right direction and I decided to combine business with pleasure. The pleasure of course was a little lunch at the tea room. In the old days, this was situated further down the steps where there is now a lawn, and I still remember being taken there for tea and scones as a small child and seeing stuffed antelope heads adorning the walls. I'm not sorry they have gone! I usually have the grilled fish with vegetables and sweet potato chips (a marvellous addition to the menu for those of us that don't eat nightshades) and although the price appears to be adjusted for tourism and is slightly eye-watering for us poor locals, I have to say that the vegetables were varied, perfectly cooked and covered in basil pesto. The fish (previously frozen if my experience can be trusted, but still flaky) was enhanced by a light homemade hollandaise which lifted it above the ordinary. The chips were served in a portion beyond the needs of the human body, but were crisp and delicious even if half had to remain on the plate. So not run-of-the-mill.
Then on to the business of arranging for a plaque to be fixed on the bench. It turned out that the office I needed to be at was way over at the top of the Camphor Avenue on the other side of the gardens, and so I set off down hill and up dale, quite a toil after the morning's hike, and I have to say I would have really struggled in the past. But 10 months of dedicated hiking has enabled me to scale undreamed of heights (let's not get carried away here; it's hardly Everest) and I achieved the summit in no time. In less than ten minutes, the friendly and very efficient staff had sorted out all the details and it looks as though we will see Mom and Dad on the bench in a few short weeks.
The gardens are looking beautiful, with lilac, purple and pink plectranthus in swathes under the trees, and I know they will be happy with their place in this natural beauty so beloved by them.

Margaret Barnes (b. West) 14.2.1930 - 5.8.2015

Eric Lancelot Barnes 19.5.1928 - 19.5.2017

             

Slopes of Table Mountain

A jewel of a day dawned in the Mother City, as autumn finally sets in. The light mist along the coastal road from Hout Bay to Camps Bay was a sign of the chill in the air as we parked near the lower cable station on Tafelberg Road. Queues of prospective passengers for the cableway stood remarkably patiently, and bus after bus was lined up to haul them off to the next tourist attraction the instant they made the downward trip. Kilometres of cars lined the road. Luckily we were there to hike, and tossed our heads nonchalantly as we passed the ticket office.

The track down to Deer Park is directly opposite that which leads up Platteklip Gorge, the most popular pedestrian route up Table Mountain and a steady three-and-a-half hour upward trudge. I was even more relieved that we were going down the opposite way! Of course, that which goes down always means a climb on the way back, but we put that out of our minds and enjoyed the meander beneath the towering rock face of Table Mountain on a crisp autumn day.

More than an hour later we reached Deer Park, at the very top of the residential area of the mountain slope, and passed many people on mountains bikes, or walking their dogs, and also a small group who were carrying empty containers to draw water from the river that runs through the park. This perennial river has provided water to every inhabitant from ancient times until now, and is the reason for the original settlement here. The old wash houses are still there, although now converted into luxury accommodation for hikers on the Hoerikwagga Trail that winds across the Peninsula down to Cape Point, and one cannot envy the washerwomen of those days who must have toiled up and down that steep slope daily.

The route back was almost straight up and certainly gave the legs a good workout. Sugarbirds in abundance flitted and flapped their long tails from protea to sugarbush and more proteas. It was good to see so many birds and also butterflies in large numbers. A mongoose scuttled into the undergrowth and lizards lazed on warm, weathered rocks.
Back at the cars, we were amazed to see lines of people just starting the ascent up Platteklip Gorge. Midday is not the best of times to toil up a steep climb with no shade. I still haven't decided if that one is even on my bucket list!

 

A fire, toadstools and a river

Today's hike was the circular route from Cecilia Forest up to the high jeep track on the way to Eagle's Nest, then along to Cecilia Ravine and down again. Yesterday, a large rock fall in adjacent Skeleton Gorge started a fire, and we were treated to the sound of helicopter rotors and a spotter plane buzzing overhead as they drew water from the nearby reservoir and dumped thousands of litres of water in this totally inaccessible gorge. By 11am it seemed that the fire had been practically doused and the skies fell silent. The crews were no doubt enjoying a well-earned rest and refreshment break. However, by the time we descended the mountain, the fire had revived and was well under way again, so doubtless double duty was done.

 The morning turned out to be much warmer than forecast, and the shady pines were perfectly placed as we clambered vertically up through the forest, having missed the more gentle incline of the actual track, as is our wont, and we had a good laugh at the sight of three bus-like Forestry vehicles taking firefighters up the jeep track ahead of us. Talk about missing the bus! We could have done with a lift.

The cooler overnight temperatures and moisture over the mountains has resulted in a proliferation of toadstools and mushrooms, edible and deadly, on the forest floor, and I did the requisite grovelling and contortionist moves to capture these incredibly beautiful specimens as best I could with my cellphone. The expensive camera doesn't go on hikes. Here they are for you to enjoy without the exercise!

 We passed two other large groups of hikers en route as this remains one of the more popular walking areas throughout the year. The Liesbeeck River was encouragingly fast-flowing, crystal clear and cool and we took the path of least resistance back to the cars - alongside the river. Having climbed 350m and hiked 5km, lunch was called for!

Kitty conundrum

Oh dear, oh dear, I'm in despair! Mango Kitty's bird hunting is becoming more prolific and more skilled. No longer content with the odd Cape white eye or wagtail, she is now catching sunbirds, sugarbirds, robins, bulbuls, weavers and canaries (perhaps not all in the plural!), today she consumed the top half of what I think I can identify as a fiscal flycatcher, with some doubt. It really is getting a bit much.
In the beginning she just got the tail feathers, as a number of birds appeared without tails for a while.

Then she just played with them, resulting in quite a few happy rescues.

But now I'm only finding gory remains, so hunting for food may now be the objective.
Initially I tried the collar with a bell, but that disappeared within hours. Another one was bought, and that she also escaped from (they have a safety release) but I found it in the branches of the honeysuckle where the sunbirds hang out. Never used it again as there seemed no point.
She hasn't attempted to catch the hadeda that has taken to picking the grubs out of the pot plants, trampling my George lilies in the process (although I am pleased about the grubs!), nor the guinea fowl that scratch the remaining patches of grass to smithereens. Only the dog takes delight in chasing them.
Some people find a solution in a visit to the vet, but I couldn't do that, so does anyone have the answer?

Water woes

After another stiflingly hot day in Cape Town (in the middle of April, too!), I know I am not alone in saying that the initial novelty of severe water restrictions and swapping of water-saving tips is definitely starting to wear off. Lugging two 10-litre buckets of grey water from the tank to the plants has toned the upper body and greatly reduced the underarm flab, but the prospect of doing this in the long term makes one's spirit flag and interest in gardening turns from beds of colourful petunias, dahlias, gaillardias, gazanias, phlox and all those pretty mass displays we have become accustomed to in our lives, to starkly angular aloes and other succulent plants that now form our prospective landscape. Gone are the green swathes of lawn, the grating sound of a lawnmower on a Saturday morning, and the shimmering spray of sprinklers waving back and forth to keep the space between the house and the fence looking like Kirstenbosch. We are having to get used to paving, stone chips, fake grass and concrete.
Nor can we sit in our living rooms and look out across a transformed garden, because the windows are so caked with dust and sea spray after six months of unseasonal southeaster that we don't need to close the blinds any more. Cleaning the house has become almost impossible on 50 litres of water a day. And let's not even contemplate the damage being done to the sewerage system by limiting the amount of flushing we are allowed.
A new kind of crime is manifesting. Water theft. JoJo tanks have been depleted in the middle of the night, and the tanks themselves stolen the next night, being light enough when empty. Unoccupied houses run the risk of having hoses attached to all outside taps and van loads of water tanks filled and taken away to be sold. These are true stories. It seems the noble savage is truly exposed in times of shortage of the necessities of life.

Toiling along the trail

Walking in a light drizzle made a very pleasant change from the intense heat of the summer months, although the temperature was so mild it was unnecessary to wear a rain jacket, and so winter is still some way away. We started at Suikerbossie just above Ruyteplaats estate in Hout Bay, toiled up through the pine forest to the indigenous forest and took the trail to Myburgh Ravine. Mist drifted around us as we tramped between tall proteas and bracken, all dripping with moisture from the occasional drizzle. The view was obscured by vegetation and weather, which was a good thing, as there was little opportunity to take our eyes from the path. Every footstep had to be measured, due to large rocks, roots and other hazards along the way, with quite a bit of scrambling involved. So although the almost 5km route had only minor elevation changes, a badly placed boot could easily have seen us crashing into the undergrowth in a not very elegant way, or even a twisted ankle. The wet rocks and sand stuck underfoot also contributed to a slippery surface, but fortunately it was only the little dog that accompanied us who sustained a foot injury and hopped back on three legs!
We never quite made it to the second ravine due to time constraints and the walking conditions, and although it was a thoroughly enjoyable hike, we were all happy to reach the relative ease of the trail through the pines again after a good four hours.

I think the refreshments were more in the hot chocolate line rather than beer!

Scaling the heights

For 60 years, Chapman's Peak has loomed before me, first from the family home in Clovelly and latterly from my deck in Kommetjie, both having sweeping views of the surrounding areas due to their elevation. However, it was not until yesterday that Chapman's Peak literally loomed before me after a steep climb up from Chapman's Peak Drive earlier.
The southeaster was roaring up the Fish Hoek Valley, sending dragons racing over the peak, and it looked as though we would be in for a cold and damp climb, but miraculously the cloud lifted higher and kept us cool as we trod the pathway up, up and ever upwards. Large flat rocks have been expertly laid for much of the track, with only odd bits being sandy and gravelly, but the steepness of the climb meant that we were actually ascending some 500m along a 2km giant staircase, and the legs were given a real workout!
The views became more and more spectacular and the requisite grumbling lessened as we enjoyed our surroundings - this must be one of the best walks on the Peninsula. The fynbos is abundant and varied, with beautiful gladioli and ericas providing splashes of colour every, and leucadendrons sprouting new pale foliage - doubtless due to the plentiful moisture that is carried over the mountains in the thick southeast cloud, which supplies Table Mountain with annual precipitation of 2000mm. Hence the perennial springs.
We reached the ridge from where we could see across the Fish Hoek/Simon's Town mountains and over False Bay to distant Hangklip, and the peak beckoned me (who would have believed that 10 months ago!!). But the wind had picked up and was forecast to become almost gale force, and an extra 40 minutes or so climbing up would mean the rest of the group waiting too long, and so I will leave that ascent for another day! I will definitely be back.
The descent took about and hour and a half as it was tricky on the knees and ankles, so not an easy hike, and in the gullies we had to brace ourselves against strong gusts of wind that threatened to blow us into the fynbos, but all agreed it had been a good morning's exercise!