A little off the beaten track

Today we did the Historic Trail in Newlands Forest - historic because we have never done it before! (Thanks, Paul.) With the aid of a booklet detailing the walk and accompanying photos, we made our way from the carpark to the left and branched off at a narrow trail that took us up familiar territory for some way - gnarled roots of the ancient pines snaked and twisted underfoot, worn to a fine patina by decades of hikers passing this way and almost creating a wooding carpet - then past a bench mentioned in the guide book. It was once we had reached the 'historic' part of the path where the remains of the old filtration plant lie sadly neglected and forgotten in the middle of a healthy stream tumbling through the channels that the instructions became a little vague. To be fair, it did indicate we would leave the path and climb upwards through a rocky area until we reached the Fernkloof trail, but the extent of the bushwhacking was not quite what we had bargained for. It was with relief that a hiker was spotted ambling casually past through a gap in the trees, and we soon came upon the laid-out trail.
This was extremely pleasant to walk along, with no particular ups and downs, leafy canopy sheltering us from the sun, soft rain earlier in the morning allowing the forest floor to give up its earthy scents...
Many people with dogs passed us, all coming from the other direction, and it seemed like a good day on the mountain. We stopped for tea in the beautiful and never seen before (by me and others) Ascension Ravine, with abundant crystal waters in a little dam and birdlife singing in the boughs of wild almonds, oaks, indigenous forest and even a fig tree, doubtless seeded by a bird many years ago. I think it is the prettiest ravine I have been to yet.
Our intention was to go further up to the Upper Contour and do a loop back to the cars, but somehow, somewhere, the path forked the wrong way and despite much map consulting (to be fair, even Google Maps was struggling), we found ourselves above Kirstenbosch, with the prospect of a long walk back! Much muttering occurred, but it must be said that at no time was there any need for concern at being lost (in fact, it was more a case of not knowing where we were), and the trail that we followed was voted as one of the best walks we have ever been on! There was plenty of opportunity for hilarious banter and we only covered 5kms in the end anyway - hardly an epic hike!
Walking behind the houses along Rhodes Drive gave us a clear view of the mountains, which are usually partly obscured when in the forest, and this only added to the pleasure of the morning. So many treasures to be found and seen out there.

Slogging up Signal School Steps

In anticipation of excessive overindulgence over the next few days (speaking for myself), our hiking group chose to do the walk from Jubilee Square in Simon's Town to the grave of Just Nuisance, famous naval hound who took care of sailors who needed help finding their way back on the train from Cape Town after some roistering! His naval career lasted from 1939-1944 and on crossing the bar, he was buried with full military honours and laid to rest overlooking Simon's Bay.
The walk is more of a strenuous climb, starting with the sudden steep uphill just past the lovely old buildings (some dating to 1899) on the Historic Mile and winding up (is there any other way in Simon's Town?) through the streets until you reach the infamous Signal School Steps. Here you pause and tilt your head back at a 45-degree angle and ask yourself what you are doing there.
Each of the 350-plus treads is about 30cm high or more and it's a case of heads down and put one foot in front of the other. There are younger people who pass us, some even carrying extra weights to really give themselves some exercise, but we are not envious of their youthful fitness - we are just able to breathe and can't waste the oxygen on thought. Many rest stops are taken to admire the sweeping views of the mountains and False Bay, and darkening clouds seem ready to fulfil the promise of a quick shower. A few drops begin to fall, but by the time we have hauled out the rain gear and donned it, it is over and already too hot for a jacket, but they were useful to sit on at tea time.
After a good rest and social chit-chat, it is time to face the descent - more daunting than the ascent - and in no time my legs are wobbling like the jelly that will be in tomorrow's trifle. Somehow downhill needs muscles I don't seem to have.
When we finally spill out onto the road again, it's left turn to the Admiral's Waterfall, just in case we haven't had enough exercise. As we approach yet another uphill section on a rough trail, good sense prevails and I decide to test out the gabions holding up the mountain slope under the shade of the gum trees. Others think this a splendid idea and we while  away a pleasant time as the others soldier on to the now trickling waterfall and back.
More downhill follows, and we eventually get back to the cars, well satisfied that the forthcoming feasts have been adequately compensated for!

Another Christmas without them

It's Christmas time again. A date that comes around religiously every year. But now it is different. No Dad or Mom to head the family gathering, to sing again in the church choir. No Christmas mince pies made by Mother's loving hands, ever the perfect hostess ensuring that no-one is without anything their heart desires. No Dad to preside over matters, always ready with the answers to any questions on just about any subject. Both ever-smiling, ever-loving and ever there for us all.
It hasn't got any easier over the last two years, and it is very difficult to enter into the requisite jolly spirits of the season. You will have to forgive me.
Peace on Earth and goodwill to Man. Love forever.

Getting back to the real Christmas

Christmas time looms again. The shops are full of decorations and exhortations for you to spend your hard-earned money. While it is fine for the landed gentry, I always feel sorry for those who are unable to splash out at this time. Do they feel they are missing out or are inferior in some way if they don't buy fancy foods and glittering Christmas tree decorations, or perhaps failing as parents if they can't afford to give their children the latest cellphone or game or other electronic device? You will never see an advert urging you to go without presents at Christmas.

Then, as soon as you have maxed your credit to buy these goods, the messages start to come in about how much it is going to cost you for school uniforms and school fees and paying your December bills in January, so it doesn't look like a Happy New Year.

While I have nothing against celebrating what is, after all, a Christian religious holiday and should be of no interest to anyone not of that persuasion, consumerism has stepped in to strip it of any religious significance whatsoever. Perhaps it would be better to transfer the commercial aspect to New Year, which would at least serve a purpose as a party to say farewell to the old and welcome a new phase of our lives. The current New Year celebrations are pretty much a damp squib coming so soon after Christmas. And those presents could be saved for birthdays when it is easier to splash out on one special person at a time.

Maybe a special day spent with loved ones (not just family, but anyone who could do with a little caring) would bring back some meaning to the celebration of the birth of Jesus, whose message was peace, hope, love, humility and charity. I think it would be infinitely preferable to the frenzied commercialism we are subjected to for two months of the year.

A walk up the valley

The hike from the Ruyteplaats Estate gate near Suikerbossie to Myburgh Ravine is always approached with trepidation - will it be hot, will there be mist? Heat is a problem on this trail which is mainly in the open, despite high bushes on either side of the path and very few trees that actually provide shade apart from in the ravines. The nek between Little Lion's Head and the end of the Twelve Apostles buttresses is the first place that gets the creeping fingers of fog that herald the approach of a cold front, and today we are expecting just that. Early this morning I could see the fog rolling around the koppie from across the bay in Kommetjie and wondered whether it would intensify and make for a damp walk, or dissipate in the morning sun. It was the latter, rather unfortunately, and after the initial steep climb up through the pine trees, we turned towards the right and had the wind at our backs and the sun on our faces.
After that, the trail levels out and is a pleasant walk, although many rocks protrude and a close eye has to be kept on boot placement - it is very easy to take a tumble into the undergrowth! This means that little time can be spent on admiring the spectacular view that pops up between gaps in the trees, but this also provides an excuse for a rest and a few pics. Regrettably, the insidious creep of human habitation has made a blot on the landscape of what was once a rural valley with large smallholdings and a pristine Disa River. The houses (immense and tiny alike) seem to be swallowing up the slopes like a fungus spreading its filaments wider and wider. But if you look beyond, to the peaks surrounding the valley and across the blue waters of the bay towards Kommetjie and Slangkop lighthouse jutting out in the distance, it is still possible to appreciate a great deal of still unspoiled beauty.
As we strode further into the head of the valley, no breeze could be felt and it became uncomfortably warm, but after a good 4km we reached the peaceful shade of Myburgh Ravine, although the stream has now dried up in midsummer and the tumbled rocks carried no tinkling waters. A toil up to the waterfall to view the beautiful Red Disa will have to be left till January/February, and hopefully the merest trickle of water will once again produce a rewarding display of the Pride of Table Mountain.
The return trip always seems to be quicker, rather like the gallop home of a plodding pony on an outride, and the sea breezes soon caressed us as we reached the final stretch - a descent in the shade of an old pine forest, the wind soughing in the branches as the cold front crept closer.

Out of the sea and into the frying pan

'Twas an excellent day in most respects. The most marvellous weather Cape Town can produce - here in Kommetjie the warmth of the sun was tempered by a gentle zephyr from the sea, carrying the scent of ozone and fresh kelp across the bay and filtering it to a palatable level through the thickets of ancient milkwood that surround it. On days like this, it is a veritable paradise, particularly as there was hardly a soul to be seen on my stroll along the boardwalk to Slangkop lighthouse. They must have been seeking the warmer waters of False Bay to splash in as the holidays set in and Christmas shopping looms. A silky smooth swell rising close to shore crashed against the rocks in sprays of snow white surf - the closest we'll be getting to a white Christmas - and the low tide meant the surfable waves were pristine in the absence of any surfers until a pushing tide in the late afternoon. 

A stop off for tea with a friend kept me away from home longer than anticipated, and when I returned it was to find another friend hard at work preparing a lunchtime treat - calamari that he had caught a few hours earlier off a boat in Simon's Town bay. This was really going back to the old days, when we had our own boat and used to catch crayfish, perlemoen (dived) and calamari and had a constant stream of guests to share in the feast from the sea. You can guess who did all the work, but the cooking was always on a fire in the boma done by He Who Can Fix Anything and always of 6-star standard. As times have changed and our access to free food from the sea has been stripped away, I think we appreciate the odd occasion like today far more than when we could take or leave a crayfish. 

The calamari is what we use as bait here (called chokka) as well as exported - not the fat and almost soggy fingers that come from the South Atlantic served in restaurants and fish and chip shops - and requires a medium heat and short cooking time in a little oil, being very thin in comparison. When expertly handled, as today, the first taste to hit the palate is calamari, sweet and slightly chewy but not at all like the tennis ball texture of, say, an alikreukel. We ate our fill, accompanied by crisp rosti and scattered with Maldon sea salt. A dish fit for a king at a less than princely price! (Sorry, no pics!)

Old photos were brought out of boxes, much reminiscing was done and good times remembered.  We must do it again soon

Eina! (Roughly translated as Ouch!)

I recently had a Chinese foot massage. It was also a neck, arm, hands, back and leg massage. Don't get confused with a western massage - those are fairly gentle in comparison. Two beefy young Chinese brothers set to on the pair of us, rubbing the knots and tension out of our muscles with fingers of concrete, paying particular attention to the acupuncture points. After making us aware of the most painful parts of our bodies, they massaged the muscles, squeezing the toxins from places we didn't know existed - you will probably remember giving your friends Chinese bangles in the school playground - a kind of wringing of the forearms in opposite directions.

Chopping with the sides of the hands up and down the muscles, and pummelling of the fatty tissue as if we were a bit of meat being tenderised certainly distracted us from the initial pain and as time wore on, those sore spots were relieved and relaxed. We were twisted and turned to realign the spine, suspended by our arms to put any dislocations back in place - all of this in a sitting position - then reclined for the most important part of the treatment - the foot massage.

If you don't like having your feet touched or are ticklish, this is not for you. But I just love having my feet massaged. At times it was so painful I could only giggle hysterically, as I didn't want to shriek, but that also eased as the fingers massaged away the pain. There were only two spots under my feet that were excruciating and when it really hurts, you let them know and they will tell you which part of the body is not functioning optimally. For me it was the liver and the kidneys (drink more water) as always. No matter who is analysing me, it's those two.

The session ended with a good pummelling, pulling of fingers and toes with a 'crack!' for realignment and a lovely cup of jasmine tea. They were professional, expert and pretty much only able to speak Chinese, and we left feeling on top of the world, as if our feet were floating above the ground. It is highly recommended that this, or any massage treatment, be undertaken weekly until there is no initial pain and then monthly to keep your body working as it should. Prevention is, after all, better than cure!

A little Christmas cheer

Today was Christmas lunch day for our Friday hiking group, so a short, flat walk from Sunbird Centre at the Noordhoek/Ou Kaapse Weg junction along the track to Clovelly Country Club was on the calendar. A chilly breeze from the sea brought fingers of fog creeping inland, but they didn't quite reach the leeward slopes and so the sun shone brightly as we ambled along in stout shoes rather than heavy hiking boots, and slightly more socially acceptable attire than usually worn on a hike. I think we all have our favourite hiking outfits - I certainly do - and they are more or less on a par with gardening clothes, rather than figure-flattering blouses suited to dining out. Today we were a little more festive and bright, and one could tell that we were all looking forward to lunch, with few snacks and even less coffee to sustain us on the trail.
As we approached the golf course, we could see it was quite busy, with groups of ladies and men (obviously separately, still clinging to the original rule of Gentlemen Only, Ladies Forbidden) and so we lingered at each tee so that they could tee off without fear of disabling an old hiker with an errant golf ball. We must have been putting them off their stroke, as we were waved on and a good few jokes were shared on the golfing theme. A couple of shouts were heard, but none of them sounded like 'Fore!' and I assume they were traditional golfing swear words to cover a multitude of poor drives and putts.
We stopped in the inadequate shade of a hedge for a short break before heading back to enjoy lunch at the nursery in Noordhoek. It was substantial, of a high standard, great serving staff and generally an exceptionally cheery occasion. Speeches were made, wine and beer imbibed and laughter rippled. A lovely day in great company, with a little exercise to boot.

Plum Pudding Hill, etc

A heavily overcast sky kept the scorching sun off our heads as we began our hike from Rhodes Memorial to the Prince of Wales blockhouse, via Plum Pudding Hill, but humidity was high and caused considerable discomfort – at least to me, maybe not everyone. For some reason I found the relatively easy hike quite exhausting today and got more than my usual raised heart rate according to the Fitbit. We took the jeep track towards Newlands Forest rather than tackle a steep vertical climb, and so it seemed that we were going in completely the wrong direct for Plum Pudding Hill, until we reached the zigzag that took us up to the next contour and headed towards Rhodes Memorial again.

The steady uphill was not onerous but was seemingly interminable, although there were plenty of silver trees to admire, as well as a few late-blooming aristea. The view was very limited due to haze from various veld fires across the bay and the gloom of the cloudy sky, but our co-leader Brian still managed some great photos to remind us of yet another hiking achievement under our belts. If we have not worked/walked hard enough, we feel a cold beer and light lunch might not have been earned, and that would definitely not do!

The jeep track is particularly steep and treacherous on the way down from Plum Pudding Hill to the old Prince of Wales blockhouse, built around 1640 and armed with a large iron cannon ready to fire a warning shot should an enemy ship have sailed into Table Bay. One can only marvel at the simplicity of life in those days, when any act of war would take days or weeks to play out and all according to strict rules. The land between Devil’s Peak and Table Bay must have been considerably less before reclamation took place, as I doubt if a cannonball would have crossed the Main Road, but I could be wrong.

Sadly, that part of our history is considered of no value now and nothing has been maintained or even kept clear of overgrowth, and it won’t be too long before the entire structure is hidden from view and only those who come across a reference in some ancient archives will know that it ever existed.

The lower track back to Rhodes Memorial took us past a plantation of magnificent, sprawling old cork oaks with wide shady branches and huge trunks covered by especially attractive bark. More old history that will eventually pass from memory.

I took the opportunity to revisit the actual building at Rhodes Memorial, not having been there in some 40 years except to park for a hike, and was pleased to see that it has not been defaced by graffiti or other forms of vandalism, and that the lions still look longingly out over the mountains as if waiting to return to the bush. Couldn’t find a reference to the statue of a horse with a naked man on it, but it must be Major Bumsore.

Back streets of the city

Today I was on a mission to get a few long outstanding projects out of the way - long outstanding because they involved going a little further off the highway into town or the local malls, and aren't we all focused on getting to the most convenient place in the easiest way and back home again, rather than turning down the side roads and joining the main road melee with a traffic light at every intersection?

I had forgotten how fascinating the real shops of Cape Town are, the ones where wooden sprung floors have creaked for more than a century, where the counters are still the original wood and glass-fronted, displaying buttons, threads, all kinds of fasteners, racks of riempie waiting to become a seat in an old yellowwood jonkmansbankie (my reason for being there), leather shoes half-cobbled on a shoe-horn, hand-made hats hanging hopefully for purchase. Behind a counter, a young man was punching holes through a piece of suede, then adding rivets and finally attaching the suede to a jacket. He then did the same with the collar of a garment to add bling for a customer, who said it was 'sharp, sharp'. A real mix of cultures doing things we have got used to buying ready-made and usually from a Chinese shop. What a treat to watch active creation, the smell of leather prominent without a horse in sight, although a row of saddles high on the wall at the back of the room reminded me of our usual association with leather. Having selected sufficient riempie, I was told, to complete the job in hand and let the young man know that He Who Can Fix Anything would be doing it himself, it was time to set off for another well-known but never been there destination, the Cape Town Society for the Blind in Salt River.

Nearly 30 years ago we bought cane and rattan bar chairs for the kitchen from the Society and they have served us well, being repaired twice since, so I think they were a great investment now that they will be completely refurbished for almost a song. Finding the place gave me an opportunity to familiarise myself with Victoria Road, Salt River and Woodstock, and some of the businesses along that stretch are surprising, perhaps as a result of the gentrification of Woodstock and surrounds, or maybe they were there long before degeneration and regeneration.

When I worked in Adderley Street in the 70s, lunch hours were spent buying wool at Betty Lou's, kitchen gadgets at Boardmans, browsing books in the Long Street bookstores and visiting art galleries and theatres. Living out in the sticks for so long has almost made me forget the pleasures of a bustling city, although times have changed and a little more alertness is required on the streets. We should still be adventurous and curious.

A few thoughts in a traffic jam

All work and no play is definitely making Jill a dull girl. Creativity takes a back seat when the mind is confronted with materiality and conformity. Being forced to fit into a box when I have never been a square has made me determined to continue to seek the best possible lifestyle on my own terms. That is not to say that there aren't times when I am happy to conform, but it must always be for the right reasons.

Sitting in the gridlocked traffic yesterday provided plenty of free time for reflection on how we are giving up all sorts of freedom to pay bills and buy bigger cars, bigger houses, pay for education, medical expenses, etc. not to mention food, while overlooking the greater purpose of life, which is to live close to nature, appreciate what is free, be kind to everyone you meet and look after your body while you have it.

I freely admit to being very impatient in traffic, and I have come to the conclusion that the reason for general road rage and intolerance of the ability of other people to affect our daily lives hinges on the fact that in South Africa we have possibly one of the most unregulated existences, where traffic laws (I won't go to the rest of them!) go largely unenforced and so we all feel entitled to basically do what suits us. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, as I personally am not in favour of large-scale regulation, but unfortunately that can only work in a society where the population is endowed with an enlightened outlook and any fool can see that it is not working here! The result is that everyone is king of the road and selfish behaviour is an affront to our ego. The potential solution is to let it ride - allow that taxi to pass on the left shoulder, make space for the big 4x4 to squeeze in front of the queue, let the old man wearing a hat hold up the traffic at 50km/hr - he must eventually get to turn off!
But, oh, all so much easier said than done!

A fitting place for remembrance

Sometimes when a person dies, a formal church funeral is not always appropriate for a non-churchgoer, and a memorial gathering with old or new friends, family - young and old - and general well-wishers can be the perfect send off. Today was such a day, when we joined family to remember Dad's cousin Michael who had passed away after some years of poor health. It is better, I think, for those left behind to remember loved ones in their prime, when they were young and not suffering from the infirmities and perhaps memory lapses of old age. The few photos I have of Mom and Dad are from their middle years when they were living their best lives (young retirement).
Michael lived in Fish Hoek for most of his 80 years, and loved nothing more than to be down at its beautiful beach, sitting with his friends on the benches that line the Jager Walk - fondly known as the catwalk by locals, presumably because of the bikinis that were paraded there over the years (guilty as charged) and swimming in the clear, warm waters of Fish Hoek bay. He cut a fine figure in his Speedo and I think may have been part of the lifesaving team - his grandson is a Nipper now which gladdened his heart.
It was easy to recall those days, even though much has changed, because the constants that Nature provides - a salty breeze whipping up white horses, an unrivalled view across False Bay to the far distant mountains, pristine white sand and rough granite boulders, all under a blue sky and a familiar cloud across Clovelly mountain - take us back in an instant to similar days way back when we were all young and growing up in a little piece of paradise.
Rest peacefully, Michael, with your beloved Vivian, and bask in the sunshine of eternal love.

Bertie's Balcony -

It remains a mystery as to who the “Bertie” in Bertie’s Balcony was, but I can only imagine him sitting in the shade of the overhang gazing into the far distance and marvelling at the panorama before him – rows of peaks and valleys as far as the eye can see, and the faded blue of the Winterberg visible through a gap to the right of Steenberg Peak – perhaps snow-capped when he sat there in winter.

We, too, marvel at the views, although if he was of a previous century, he would not have known of the easy route over the ridge (Ou Kaapse Weg) and might still have been taking the original wagon trail that is spoken of but not easily identified. He would have stopped to drink from the Silvermine River where it forms a pool before tumbling over the cliff in a small but nonetheless impressive torrent in winter, or gather a handful of water from the dwindling stream on a hot summer’s day to splash the dust and perspiration from his face, much like we did today.

He must have looked across the mountains, covered in a multitude of fynbos species, some of which even today are found only on these slopes. The same pincushions and proteas, mimetes and liparia, ericas and restios that are thriving here, watered by the clouds that swathe the peaks when the southeaster blows up a storm, would have been even more abundant and spectacular than today, with sugarbirds, sunbirds and familiar chats flitting from branch to branch, while a lone Jackal Buzzard eyed the scene with disdain from his rocky perch.

He would be happy to know that so many others who love these mountains take the trouble to toil up the path, rocky and steep in places, simply to sit where he sat and restore their souls in such beautiful and peaceful surroundings. 

The shipwreck trail and a bit more

I just love walking in Cape Point Nature Reserve, particularly on a windy December day - the time of year when the flowers on the plateau are abundant and varied and cool breezes from the deep South Atlantic are especially welcome. A little rain overnight kept the beach sand firm beneath our feet as we strode along the seafront from Olifantsbos to the wrecks of the Thomas T Tucker and the Nolloth, enjoying the bracing air and crashing surf across the reefs that have seen many a ship founder over the centuries - these last two being the rusted hulks of last century's victims, among the fragmented remains of modern yachts and fishing vessels.
A whale vertebra stranded near the dunes was a reminder that the jetsam on the beach is not always man-made and I'm sure many a hiker has been photographed perched on the sad remains of a behemoth of the seas.
The shoreline between the two wrecks is quite different from the rest of the reserve, with a wide and windswept sandy strip thinly covering a layer of smooth, almost soapy and marble-like rock - another fascinating aspect of the geology of the Peninsula.
A lone baboon called out from his lookout on the krantz as we climbed the easy path from the beach through increasingly varied fynbos - in places like a miniature garden with five or six species in close proximity - up to the top of the cliffs. The walk back to Olifantsbos via the plateau has to rate among the most enjoyable in the reserve, with rock formations to fire the imagination and views of all the peaks from Slangkop to Cape Point. The white everlastings are at maximum bloom and make for a beautiful 'snow' scene in all directions - the closest we will be getting to a white Christmas! Another highly recommended hike.