Deer Park at the foot of Table Mountain

Wintry temperatures have returned to Cape Town for a few days, as a pair of cold fronts sweep up from the deep South Atlantic. Various factors allow rain to fall, mainly very heavily along the Garden Route, and a few millimetres added a good amount to the water tanks under the gutters early this morning. As forecast, the rain was very localised, and our walk at the foot of Table Mountain through Deer Park went ahead as scheduled, much to my relief. I tend to get quite agitated at the prospect of a cancelled walk and check the detailed forecasts against the view from my deck every 10 minutes!
What I didn't take into account was the fierce downdraught coming over Table Mountain (although having lived my whole life in Cape Town I should know where the tablecloth comes from!), and was dismayed to find no jacket tucked in a back corner of the boot. Moral of the story - leave your hiking gear in the car, not on the coat rack. A thin shirt is not always ideal hiking clothing. Fortunately, my fellow seasoned hikers were prepared for all eventualities, and I was soon comfortably ensconced in a feather light windcheater that must be added to my wardrobe forthwith.
The descent from Tafelberg Road to the park was by way of a pleasant jeep track offering sweeping views of the City Bowl, Table Mountain, Devil's Peak, Signal Hill/Lion's Head, the harbour and Waterfront, a peek at the stadium in Green Point and Robben Island, and on to the far horizon where the mountains stand in serried rows, fading from blue to grey as they lead to the hinterland. Of course, when we go down, there is the prospect of going up again, and as we descended further into the forest of blackened trees burned in a fire some years ago, it became apparent that it would be quite a climb. Clearing of alien vegetation is taking place and we passed a small team of forestry workers sheltering from the wind among a tumble of picturesque boulders - the boss had driven back up the track, so it was tea time. Piles of hacked up Port Jackson covered the area and, strangely, many of the dead pines were snapped off at varying distances up the trunks, some leaning forever entangled in the branches of other trees and others across the forest floor. Hard to imagine the purpose if not natural destruction.
A lovely stream tumbles through the park and further up we rested on the banks where the original dam used by laundrywomen for the young Cape settlement is situated. An easy wooden walkway winds down the ravine to the old wash houses, but we didn't go that route in view of the steepness of the climb ahead. The sun was peeping through the clouds and the wind had dropped - jackets were shed and coffee was imbibed.
The hill climb was practically straight with only an occasional bend in the road, and it was not for nothing that this section of track had been roughly concreted! No vehicle would have made it up in wet conditions and probably even in dry due to slipperiness of the surface, and I can almost guarantee a few of us will have sore calf muscles tomorrow. The incline was maybe 45 degrees and it gave us many opportunities to gaze in wonderment at the imposing sandstone face of our favourite mountain. Well-deserved beers all round and a good lunch!