Into the desert lands

Here I am lying in a comfortable bed under an industrial sized air conditioner at Augrabies National Park in a smart chalet a stone's throw from the waterfall. Last time I was here it was exactly  50 years ago and we were nearing the end of a memorable camping holiday in South West Africa. The falls were then viewed from the river bank with a small token barrier to prevent us from falling into the chasm.  Plenty of floodwaters have flowed under the bridge in the intervening years and everything has changed immeasurably since, and tomorrow we will spend the day (literally from the crack of dawn) birding and enjoying the ruggedness of this area.
We set off from Beaufort West early on Monday, taking the dirt roads northwesterly along the base of the Nuweveldberge, where millions of years of weathering and erosion reveal the origins of our beautiful country and its early inhabitants - dinosaurs! A separate trip is needed to visit the sites and learn about the fossils of the Karoo, and hopefully one day I will get there. The rock composition and formations are awe-inspiring for those who find it so, and the silence is the quietest you have ever heard.
As this is a birding trip, we are not travelling fast, with many stops to reverse, and the dirt roads are not good enough for much speed anyway, and so we are able to enjoy every little item of interest along the way - the train waiting near Aggenys on the Sishen-Saldanha line with 8 locomotives and 312 trucks stretching away into the distance; the transformation of the mountains into massive mine dumps where they are digging out various ores; the little towns along the way (Williston is noteworthy for its remarkable restaurant called Manna which is worth a visit if passing through; Pofadder which has always been on my list to see before I die); and the endless vistas of changing scenery that makes the mind boggle at the intrepid explorers who travelled through this dry, dry and unforgiving land.
The Augrabies Falls National Park is truly a desert of stone - you think it cannot get more rocky until you turn another bend and even more mountains of rock appear. A very special place which should be on everyone's bucket list.
Tomorrow we head north for the desert of sand and hot days and nights. No idea of contact with the outside world. Till then...

Clockwise round Lion's Head

A mild and magnificent day greeted us for the hike around the base of Lion's Head. There are two ways to do this - clockwise or anti-clockwise - and we have fortunately settled into the clockwise route, which takes us quite far down into The Glen before crossing the road to climb the substantial steps up to the lower slopes overlooking Camps Bay. If we did the anti-clockwise route, we would finish the hike with the steep road climb, not something to look forward to!
A light breeze barely rustled our hair (or what's left of it) as we paused frequently to enjoy the scenery - Table Mountain, the Twelve Apostles, the beaches of Camps Bay and Clifton far below, and passing ships and fishing boats out on the Atlantic Ocean. The shade of the towering gums that hold the slopes together was pleasant, as was the entire hike, with no portion of it being strenuous or too hot.
The ongoing building operations on the highest level of the Atlantic seaboard seem to be reaching an end, as cranes are few, jackhammering and other offensive construction sounds were absent, and life at the top appears to be settling down into suburban bliss. Occupants are either absent, at work or lounging on the patio, as only the odd gardening staff ever come into view. I'm sure if I lived there I would also be lounging on the patio. Or maybe not. I have to say I have no complaints about living down near the rocks of Kommetjie.
More and more spring flowers are making their appearance and the watsonias must have been spectacular after the fire, as they thrive under those conditions, but we were perhaps a week or two late for the initial blooms. However, as with the entire Peninsula, the abundance of fynbos makes every walk a new experience, no matter how often you cover the same ground. A lovely day on the mountain.

Silvermine's Spitskop - a road less travelled

"So which peak is Spitskop?" I haven't been on this particular hike before. Our Intrepid Leader waved vaguely in the direction of the higher parts of Silvermine Nature Reserve. "That one." Still quite clueless, I set off with the rest of the hiking group down the jeep track towards the river trail, which we passed and continued across the valley and left up towards the next ridge. The weather forecast had indicated a light breeze and mild temperatures (we don't always look at the same forecast) but mine was wrong and it was pretty warm out there. Having only started out with a shirt, I had no layers to cast off, but as we crested ridge after ridge, a slight coolness could be felt until we descended once more into the dense undergrowth of the valleys. One valley in particular took us along a head-high section of fynbos with a muddy seep and stepping stones - very little of which could be seen underfoot due to the plants having grown together over the path. It was indeed a road less travelled and as we plodded on with great care not to trip or slip or even stand on a passing snake (none seen), it was a great opportunity to enjoy the multitude of flowers that are starting to appear on these mountains as spring marches on towards summer.
The variety changed as often as the altitude and we would cross a ridge and enter a different world of waist-high young proteas growing as thickly as a Port Jackson plantation (wonderful to see them flourishing and also see no nasty aliens among them). In places we were actually able to see the shiny quartz sand of the trail but mostly we were treading sight unseen.
Spitskop loomed ahead of us. It did not seem possible that it could be so far away! But we eventually reached the summit and took in our surroundings - spectacular views of the southern Peninsula again, but something one never tires of - and enjoyed a welcome rest. Being on the edge of a cliff, there was a refreshing updraught that blew the cobwebs from my hair and the sweat from my brow. Again, the effort is little compared to the reward.
We went back the easy way - a narrow track down to the jeep track that then winds around the koppies and back up to the carpark. The breeze was more substantial and we finished our nearly 8km walk in a good time of three and a half hours.

The peak in the middle, far, far away is our destination

Over hill and dale, ever upward

Fish Hoek valley

Chapman's Peak and Noordhoek

 Dassies on the rocks

A surprising updraught

A stroll to the silver trees

The hike from Price Drive above the Groot Constantia vineyards ranks among the less strenuous (because we have already driven halfway up) and rather different trail. Winding through dense bracken and tall grasses, still damp from overnight dew, we soon found ourselves under the canopy of ancient oaks, the thick carpet of leaves masking our footsteps along a small ravine with a stream tumbling down to the dam on the wine farm (no doubt one of the reasons for its establishment originally). Many fallen trees crisscrossed the path, some old and skeletal, others freshly cut by chainsaws to clear the way. This isn't a very well-worn trail, perhaps being a little tame for serious hikers, but the magic of being in a forest, no matter how small, with birds flitting in the branches and bright fungi clinging to decaying logs makes it a very pleasant place to be, and there is no harm in taking it a little easy sometimes.
We climbed steadily up the side of the ravine until we suddenly came to the level of the treetops, and found ourselves in a totally different world - one of the last but apparently flourishing habitats of the beautiful silver tree, leucadendron argenteum. These indigenous beauties have genuinely silver foliage due to the hairy nature of the leaves, which are soft and cool to the touch, and are an endangered species, endemic to a small area of the Cape Peninsula. It is a protected tree and vulnerable to wildfires that have beset the Cape over the last few years and possibly has survived development due to its habitat being higher up on the mountains.
There were numerous flannel bushes along the trail, belonging to the genus of hard-leaved fynbos, and they were also a pleasing enhancement to our observations. Very little else in the way of flowers was on the grassy slopes, apart from a small number of pretty pink ericas lower down, and we had to make do with wonderful views across the vineyards rather than close encounters with nature's beauty.
A very worthwhile walk for forest and views.

Skeleton Gorge on a sunny day

There were rumours it would be steep. They weren't rumours. It was all true.
Somehow I don't recall having done the climb from the upper reaches of Kirstenbosch to Skeleton Gorge on the left - I only remember coming down or going up on the right. It's a toss-up which is the steepest ascent, and today was quite a struggle, or maybe I was feeling weak. We climbed a giant's causeway, grateful for a cool wind blowing down from the ravines, and eventually reached the contour path which levelled out to a very comfortable horizontal plane!
The way up through Kirstenbosch from the top gate meanders through their specially planted section of silvertrees which form a delightful avenue, with young trees growing strongly in between to replace the older specimens in a few years' time. Gardeners were planting young proteas and it is evident that they love their job - who wouldn't? It is so encouraging to observe the dedication to the perpetuation of our fynbos.
The contour path, which hugs the curves of the mountain (duh!) was much warmer and in no time all outer layers were shed and frequent breaks to admire the view and drink water were necessary. It seemed as though the whole world was out walking and we seemed to be stepping aside every few minutes to allow faster hikers to pass. It certainly was a good place to be on a fine Tuesday morning.
The initial steepness and then narrowness of the contour path did not allow for much looking up, but the vegetation is thick and largely bracken, and any eye-catching flowers were at our feet anyway. The path falls away in a sheer drop that is only supported by shrubs with roots clawing at the rocky terrain. Should there ever be a wildfire in this area, I should imagine the path would crumble in the first rains. The illusion of a barrier must be comforting for the vertiginous.
Some of the streams that tumble down these ravines have already dried up, but the Skeleton Gorge waterfall is still running fairly strongly and is a most peaceful spot for a bit of R&R. A strong gust of wind blew through the canopy of trees towering towards the light and with a crack a branch tumbled to the ground a little way further down from where we were sitting. Nature at work.
The return hike was only slightly more enjoyable due to it being downhill, and a thoroughly delightful outing concluded with cold beer and a good lunch!

See the tiny people at bottom of picture. It is a high waterfall.

Definitely Noordhoek Peak this time!

I thought it might rain on us as we headed up into the clouds on top of Ou Kaapse Weg, bound for the Silvermine Dam carpark and a long haul up to Noordhoek Peak. The mountains were swathed in low cloud and a chilly wind blew over the ridge and made me shiver and add another layer of clothing - not something I often do; in fact, I seldom wear more than a shirt. But yesterday was different.
The spring fynbos was out in force as we toiled up the jeep track, with masses of bright pink ericas and golden leucadendrons carpeting the slopes on either side of us, and it promises to get better with each successive walk over the next few months. The clouds that so often drape the peaks bring life-giving moisture even when it doesn't actually rain, and the presence of numerous streams and a full dam are evidence that the winter rains made a difference.
We left the relative shelter of the leeside as we crested the ridge and made our way left to the Noordhoek lookout - a spot on the edge of the sheer cliffs that surround this verdant valley that affords a stunning panorama of the coastline from Chapmans Peak down to the Cape Point Reserve and a bird's eye view of the continuing expansion of all the housing and industrial developments across the wetlands. We can be thankful that we still have the mountains to walk in without encroachment of 'civilisation'.
We continued up the jeep track for another 45 minutes or so - the hike is around 9km in total and we climb about 350m so not for slouches. Here the wind was even cooler, and the clouds came and went, casting shadows that dissolved as the morning sun rose higher - a black eagle treated us to a view of it hovering overhead, one of the few still living on the Table Mountain chain, and we hoped it had a successful hunt, perhaps to feed a young one.
The views across Hout Bay make this one of the most worthwhile hikes in the area, and many have been inspired to begin hiking simply from seeing a photo from Noordhoek Peak and feeling the need to experience it for themselves. After taking countless photos, we retreated to the shelter of the rocks facing inland and spent a pleasant half hour in the sunshine before heading back - all downhill from there!
(When I got home I suddenly took ill and have been poorly since, so that is why I was cold! Not getting old.)

Simple days

It's spring tide under a new moon in Kommetjie.  Below the lighthouse, a vast expanse of slippery, seaweed covered flat rock is exposed at the lowest tide and everyone is down there to do the things they can only do at springtide. Mussel pickers are filling their bags with black mussels which cling to the rocks, usually safely protected by the shore break, but are now high and dry. The flat rocky ledge is the top of a sea cliff which drops straight off into deep water. Skilled crayfishermen stand with their bamboo poles, a bait bag attached to the end having been lowered into the depths to lure the crayfish to an easy meal. A catch net is at the ready to grab the crayfish which drop off the bait as they are lifted from the water.  A little way off shore, those who can afford a boat are also chasing after red gold.   Young girls lie on the rocks soaking up the sunshine.  Children are gazing into rock pools, paddling in the icy water.  Dogs splash past them on their way to the next seagull. A diver rises from the kelp and clambers onto the ledge, his bag full of crayfish - a successful dive for dinner.
  No sounds disturb the scene - everyone is going about their business without interfering in anyone else's.  All is calm under the lighthouse. A drift of air from the sea keeps us cool as we clamber over the rocks and make our way back home along the boardwalk.
  In an hour's time, the sea will once more cover the rocky ledge and the sunbathers, dogs, children and fishermen will have to retreat from its advance until the next spring low. It is easy to forget that the scene is so different in winter when the north-west gales rage around the Cape. That is the fascination of the sea. I never grow tired of it.

A walk back in time

A cool southeast breeze welcomed us as we made our way from the Kom along the bayside path and boardwalk to Slangkop lighthouse, a beacon of warning to shipping for over 100 years of the treacherous reefs along the coast where many a captain has steered his ship to shore. The sea was a deep shade of blue after a few days of offshore winds and only a small shore break belied the ferocity of yesterday's massive surf. We passed beneath the lighthouse on our way to the Soetwater campsite/bird sanctuary (an oxymoron, I suppose) and headed down a sandy track along the fence where a sign warned of an otter with pups in the area and requesting no dogs to be allowed. It is such a privilege to live where these beautiful creatures still exist in relative safety and are sighted regularly by early morning and evening strollers.
Once in the Soetwater conservancy, we were horrified by the amount of plastic polluting the shoreline, tangled in clumps of kelp or just general jetsam on the sand, and we busied ourselves with picking up as much as we could with the bags we had brought, but would clearly have been able to fill innumerable black bags if we had set about a serious clean up. So sad to see what mankind has done to our only home.
As a prime breeding ground for shorebirds, and with the highest density of African Black Oystercatchers along this stretch of coast, we were not surprised by the calls of alarm from a number of Blacksmith Lapwings who did their best to distract us from whatever they were protecting - either eggs or juveniles - and we took care to all follow in each others' footsteps to minimise our impact on the vegetation.
Our purpose on this hike was to visit the Soetwater Enviro Centre, where wonderful work is being done to educate children (and any adults who care to be) on the environment through school camps (good accommodation and activity programmes ensure that this is an outing to be remembered, I'm sure) and we were given a slide presentation on the work done at the Centre, followed by a tour of the bird rehabilitation area and a small selection of snakes. Our host, the amiable and very knowledgeable Lappies Labuschagne, took us further down the coast to look at a Khoi midden from long, long ago when this was a veritable paradise for the early inhabitants of this land. A fascinating and informative talk, peppered with humour, made for a memorable outing and one to be repeated, as there are many more stories to be told. I highly recommend a visit to the Centre (just phone first so they can be prepared with tea/coffee and biscuits and a suitable date) for anyone interested in our natural world and heritage. We were relieved to learn that schoolchildren did a huge beach cleanup from the Centre down the coast to Witsands recently, but had not gone towards the lighthouse. Hopefully that will be on the agenda soon!

Ancient whalebone

A small section of a hill of shells, bones, pottery

Picking up plastic