Battle of the birds

It's currently a battle of the birds, with nesting beginning for many species and additional food required. At least the nectar eaters are able to look after themselves, with an abundance of blossoms and blooms in the garden at present. This is what the sunbirds are after:

We feed mixed grain to the red-eyed doves, ring-necked and turtle doves and this has allowed them to breed uninhibitedly, providing a good source of food for the various sparrowhawks and occasional peregrine falcon swooping in over the treetops and scaring the birds out of their wits, scattering in all directions. Here is the newest juvenile black sparrowhawk resting after another unsuccessful hunt,while a young pintailed whydah observes him from a nearby twig: A recent addition to the garden (or rather, the roof) s a juvenile African Harrier Hawk that seems to have moved into the area and is providing exciting sightings for birdlovers!

The doves have now been joined by a large flock of guinea fowl and they all enjoy a scratch and peck among the scraps thrown out for the porcupine in an effort to keep him out of my garden:

Keeping a watchful eye on the avian activity are the ever-vigilant Mango Kitty and Mr Bigglesworth, who caught an airborne dove with a glancing blow this morning, releasing an avalanche of feathers, but apparently no fatality.

Just Nuisance in cooler weather

When I did the walk from Simon's Town's Jubilee Square to the grave of Just Nuisance up at the Signal School above the town in December last year, I had only been hiking for 6 months and this was definitely the toughest of all. I toiled to the top with many, many stops on the way and was the last to get there. My blog indicates that my legs were too wobbly to walk straight back down the steps and had to do most of it sideways.
Today was to be a test of my progress, and I am happy to report that, although I still had to stop after each set of 30 steps (as did everyone else!), recovery was quick and painless and I could have been first to the top if I had really wanted to be. The trip back down was undertaken normally, and although the legs felt slightly wobbly back on the road, I was impressed with myself and wasn't even breaking a sweat.

We then turned left towards Admiral's Waterfall and negotiated the narrow path with steep drop into the ravine at a leisurely pace, having already had a strenuous walk and now adding a little more. In December there was no water, but good winter rains (now extending into spring) have produced a raging torrent and the waterfall is a sight to behold. You cannot actually see the main falls from the path, but they are clearly visible from many parts of the walk up the hill and can be heard from far away. The upper falls and pools are well worth the extra few minutes' walk, although I didn't do it!
The Historic Mile in Simon's Town gave us plenty of opportunity to admire the ancient architecture, most of which has been well maintained, and our Intrepid Leader gave us an informative talk on each one - there's more to us than just hiking!
It still rates as probably the toughest walk I have done - pretty much straight up the mountain - but is good for the heart and legs!
Down below on a pond-like False Bay, a strange assortment of vessels plied to and fro from the dockyard - a yacht, an old supply support vessel, a kayak, a skiboat, a skiff with 4 oarsmen and a submarine (this disappeared from view and then reappeared - as submarines are supposed to do - but as neither event was witnessed by us happy hikers, we are unable to say whether it submerged or not - I would like to think it did as a periscope training exercise. Any training exercise in our navy is welcomed.)

Seeing things clearly

Having suffered from astigmatism my whole life, my eventual switch from three different pairs of glasses (long distance, computer distance and close up) to multifocals a few years ago opened up a whole new world of clarity and vision! For the first time I could actually distinguish individual leaves on trees in detail, and while I was always able to see perfectly adequately without glasses, the pinpoint focus had been missing. The purpose of this rambling is to identify why I so enjoy taking extreme close up photos of flowers and birds and why I bought a camera that makes it easy to do this. It's because being able to zoom in on an object far away and expand the images on a computer screen takes all the hard work out of trying to see the details with eyes that are less than perfect. I'm going to share some of my favourites, as I'm sure there are many more like me who enjoy the magnificence of nature.

Garden pests or wild nature?

Our little flock of hadedahs, whose raucous calling instils ire in everyone unfortunate enough to have them roost nearby, flapped back towards the shore just after sunrise this morning. They still don't realise that they aren't seabirds and have to stick to the land. They are, to me, one of nature's oddities - birds whose call grates on the ear, who eat the earthworms that we really want in our soil for essential aeration and fertilisation, and splatter our walls with copious amounts of yellow poop.  I think their most useful purpose is to amuse, as they sometimes fly around as if they are doing it for practice, with no set plan. When they fly out over the sea, it seems as though they suddenly realise that they have gone too far, and then the flock of fourteen flaps wildly, completely out of co-ordination, and make an about-turn, cackling inanely as they head back towards the safety of dry land.

They do make quite a pretty silhouette against the sky when roosting on the steeple-like roof next door, though.

That other garden pest, the throwing mole, has returned to the front lawn. I thought he had passed by on the way to the Kom, but this morning he threw up 8 mounds, each one a few feet closer to the fence. The fact that he is burrowing through sodden ground doesn't make any difference. His strength is incredible - to push out perfect tubes of almost solid earth shows great determination. What with the porcupine snuffling out from the top and the mole tunnelling below, I expect the lawn to be nothing more than a lattice of vegetation waiting to trap the unwary and twist an ankle.

I suppose it's our obsession with wanting to neaten up the natural vegetation that makes us have lawns and flowerbeds and plant things that shouldn't be there. If we left it as a wild meadow, we wouldn't have any stress from mole-heaps and porcupines. Perhaps that is the way to go?

A clamber at Cape Point

We are finally into official Spring and to celebrate the new season, our hiking group went down to Cape Point to scale the heights overlooking the lighthouses. Of course, it was a cold and windy day with light scattered rain, not what we envisaged for Spring, but miracles do happen and although we got damp while mulling the situation over at the entrance gate, by the time we had driven down to the Point, it had cleared slightly. It is always a relief to make the right decision to hike even when it looks bad, as the alternative - a day without a hike - is too awful to contemplate!
The hike covers the end (or beginning) of the Hoerikwagga Trail that runs along the Peninsula from Table Mountain to Cape Point and our coffee break destination was the overnight hut overlooking the Buffels Bay area of the reserve. A gentle uphill wound through dense vegetation, with glimpses of the rocky ledges far below and white water swirling at the edges. The view across False Bay, usually so breathtaking, was conspicuous by its absence, hidden behind a fairly constant curtain of rain which blew southwards away from us. A watery sun broke through the overhead cloud cover from time to time and the fresh northwester still awaited us on the other side of the ridge.
Soon the trail turned into a rock scramble, where both hands had to be used to haul ourselves up through narrow openings and large boulders, typical of the sandstone mountains where weathering has broken and tumbled the terrain. I find this much more enjoyable than a flat walk and especially a flat incline, as it is easier to pull myself up with thigh muscles than whatever else it is we use for ordinary walking! But I don't think many others enjoyed it too much, finding it 'invigorating' and 'arduous'!
As we crested the ridge and began the descent towards the hut, we felt the full force of the cool wind, but still the rain swept away on either side of us and left us dry with patches of sun and a lovely view over the western coastline, Bellows Rock, and the impressive reefs off Cape Maclear far below. Nearly two hours after setting off, we reached the hut - not that far as the crow flies, but a good few kilometres up hill and dale. After the descent, which was quite hard on the knees, it was mutually agreed to cut the walk by an hour and go for a convivial lunch instead, and so we returned to the car park by way of the road rather than the beach and cliff climb we had planned. Not ideal, and we will definitely do the rest another time!

Impressive clouds

The weather gods are being good to Cape Town. Despite forecasts of little rain this winter, clouds have appeared from unusual directions, not at all our normal cold front format, and heavy rains have fallen in the nick of time. In the Eastern Cape, where disaster seemed inevitable, dams are filling and some have even overflowed from torrential rain over the last week or two.
At home we no longer have space to store any more water except underground, where it belongs, as the jojo tank (5000 litres), subsidiary tanks (1500 litres) and more than 400 5-litre bottles are full and overflowing. The question is asked, where is all the water going to go? and the answer is, into the ground as it always has before we had to start preventing it from escaping from the drainpipes! We have become somewhat paranoid about wasting water now, and it is going to take a bit of training to watch it flow unhindered through the garden. It is even becoming apparent that some of us are finding a wet day inconvenient!
The clouds today were towering, puffy and bright white, but from their heavy grey bases a torrent fell. It must have been a real dampener for the tour group doing a circuit of the Peninsula in old motor bike/side-car combos! I don't know if their bright blue weather gear was sufficient to keep them dry, but who knows, some people enjoy that kind of experience and in fact some parts of the world only know wet weather. It is, after all, only water and we don't melt!
The only concern regarding water storage is that the groundwater level  has not risen above what would be the minimum at the end of summer, and I can only conclude that this is because the well was totally dry in March, something we haven't seen here in 35 years.

A breath of fresh air

A hectic week of administrative work has left me worn out and needing to hike! Sounds odd, but hiking rejuvenates the body and soul and is excellent for calming the mind when stressed or overworked. The thought of a 3-hour hike up a steep ravine is enough to blank the mind and all that you can think of is putting one foot in front of the other - slowly does it. So today's little stroll to the lighthouse - which used to be my only exercise and was quite exhausting - was a jaunt that cleared the cobwebs and pleased the eye.

Not a swell disturbed the sea, not a breath of wind rustled the trees. A perfect almost Spring day (23 September). The fishing fleet from Hout Bay approached from the north, evenly spaced little boats heading out to catch anchovy. In these times of environmental awareness, it is horrifying to think of them trawling up millions of bait fish, but nothing is going to prevent it and so I chose to enjoy the picturesqueness of the scene rather than focus on the purpose. 

Kommetjie never disappoints when it comes to capturing a scene, and I must have hundreds of similar photos to these, but the sky and light are always different. 

I went looking for the small patch where ferraria crispa emerges in Spring, and was pleased to find that many are coming out, although still far from bloom. The white daisies, which always spread a carpet of magnificence around the lighthouse, were closed due to the lateness of the afternoon, but pink vygies were brightly evident. A few scarlet 'pypies' swayed atop their delicate stems, and the bright yellow daisies with tough foliage to withstand the biting sea air defied the lack of sun and made a great show. Such a privilege to live here.

Memories of my youth

I grew up on the slopes of Trappies Kop, the mountain behind our family home in Clovelly, overshadowed by the much more impressive Clovelly Mountain stretching from Kalk Bay to Noordhoek, and today's hike to the beacon was a first for me.
When I was a child, this mountainside was our playground, with weathered sandstone boulders feeding the fertile imagination of youth, turning them into boats, cars, castles and such. We were always up there - not so much in summer, because of snakes - but winter was perfect. Perhaps that is where my love of rocks and mountains and scenery was born - you cannot get much more natural beauty than up there on the Flat Piece - where our property ended at the fire break and a natural plateau about 30m wide inspired us to name it for what it was! I hadn't been up there for a good 40 years, so it was quite an emotional 'call back the past' for me, particularly now that Mom and Dad are no longer with us.
Before the big fires of recent years, Trappies Kop was heavily invaded by alien rooikrans, to the extent that it was impossible to access the mountain beyond the Flat Piece, and hence as children we never climbed up there. So it was a tremendous treat for me to plod up the familiar path up to the Saddle towards Kalk Bay - the route we had taken so often when going up to the Kalk Bay caves as teenagers - Boomslang (never again!), Devil's Pit (never!), Oriad's Hall, Amphitheatre - with the mountain streams tinkling nearby. This time we turned right and began a very arduous climb, with many breathing stops, to the beacon in the middle of the summit. And how very worthwhile that labouring was, with views forever, and Fish Hoek bay at a very low tide, revealing a vast expanse of beach, and deep blue and turquoise sea across False Bay, complete with whales!
A puffadder was spotted on the way down, sunning itself after coming out of its winter rest and doubtless dreaming of a mouse. The dogs ran to it, barking, and we would not have seen it otherwise. I was happy my dog was not there! It slithered under a bush and ignored us.
What a delightful morning on the mountain. A windless, sunny, late winter's day in Cape Town. 

I could have stayed up there all day.

Spring Star Party

The Spring Star Party was held this weekend at Leeuwenboschfontein, up on the plateau between Touws River and Montagu further down, at a height of nearly 1 000m above sea level. We were a little earlier than last year, and September has seen a good deal of snow, much of which fell in the nearby Matroosberg just before the event. I camped in a very insubstantial tent last time, and readers may remember that I wore four layers of clothing in my sleeping bag, with two blankets on top, but still froze at 2 degrees C. Sensibly, I booked a chalet this time and was impervious to the 0 and -2 that we experienced! Not only was it freezing cold, it was also wet, with unseasonal and unusual rain from the west and south-east, so pity the poor campers. However, feedback was that they still had a good time, so perhaps seasoned campers are made of sterner stuff. Or their sense of adventure knows no bounds.
Despite the weather, we enjoyed two nights of intermittently clear skies and saw celestial objects that were both awe-inspiring and interesting. The many very knowledgeable and in some cases, brilliant minds that attend these star parties expanded our insight of the known universe and left us curious to know more. A large display of homemade and 'rescued' telescopes showed us that bits of old washing machine and pot lids can produce the same results as the expensive commercial telescopes - good to know that there are so many inventive and innovative people around. A number of talks were given to ensure that we received mental as well as visual stimulation, and these were thoroughly enjoyed by all.
A domesticated lynx frequented the campsite, rubbing itself against our legs like a large cat, but always alert for danger and slightly jumpy. Apparently reared by a local farmer and causing havoc with chickens and some domestic cats - one can only hope it doesn't suffer the fate of many other
'problem' animals. It was very special to be in its presence.
As always, the last morning dawned still and clear, promising to be a stunning day, but work beckoned and it was time to hit the road back to Cape Town, once the layer of ice had thawed on the car! As I crested the last hill out of the valley, I was greeted by a breathtaking view of brilliant white, snow-capped mountains along the horizon, at a perfect level for appreciation, before descending the escarpment once again and watching the car temperature indicator rise from 1 degree to 17 by the time I exited the Huguenot Tunnel, returning to the bustle of city life after a most welcome four days literally away from it all.
Thanks to all concerned in the mammoth task of organisation and execution!

Snow, sun and a burst of heavy rain in one photo!

 

Doing the daisies

Good rains up the West Coast brought the dazzling mass displays of wild flowers for which the area is famed into early bloom, and so those vehicle-bound visitors to the West Coast National Park may have been disappointed on Tuesday. The sweeping fields of nodding blue, white, orange and yellow daisies were conspicuously green. But we were going to hike on the 15km trail, so would be able to access the wilder parts of the park where the flowers hide among the fynbos.

The wind was fresh and a cold front loomed across the sea, but we set off in intermittent sunshine across a stretch of colourful blooms. It wasn't long before we warmed up and started to shed the outer layers and the strenuous climb to the top of the ridge got our old hearts pumping! Many stops were made to enjoy the views across the aquamarine waters of Langebaan lagoon on the one side and the gigantic waves crashing against the seashore on the other, with billowing spray evidence of the approaching bad weather.

Once out of the lee and on top of the ridge overlooking Jutten Island and Saldanha, it was time to put the jackets back on, but the temperature was still warm enough for the flowers to remain open and delight our senses. The wind kept the birds sheltering in the bushes and only a small herd of springbok and a few of the brown zebra that I think are related to the kwagga were seen, unlike previous years when large herds of eland were grazing.

The terrain changed all the time, from exposed sandstone flats to granite boulders to sandy tracks, each with its own floral species, very noticeably so. We stopped for a coffee break and later a lunch break near the sea, but the length of the walk doesn't allow for much rest time and we were all pretty tired by the end after a 7-hour hike! The rain held off until we headed back to town, where terrible weather conditions combined with the usual log-jammed “rush hour” traffic saw us only getting back home near 8pm. A long day after a 6am start, but so worthwhile. A truly must-do hike, but rather make a 3-day event at a nice B&B to avoid the traffic chaos.