A good old-fashioned winter storm is due to hit the Cape of Storms tonight. Today was the calm before the storm, and a light easterly breeze allowed the forerunner of darkly thunderous cloud to drift overhead as we took a well spread out walk up to the blockhouse on top of Slangkop. Although only a few drops fell on us, out to sea the sun illuminated the odd shower through a brilliant arc of rainbow just to let us know what was coming. The humidity was high and by the time we reached the summit, jackets were shed and brows were wiped. Below us was a vista of contrasting dark and light cast by the intermittent sunshine, and on the other side of the bay, the mountain slopes were bathed in gold and green hues. Reflections on the mirror-smooth sea made it hard to believe that just a few days ago the reefs were pounded by massive breakers as far as the eye could see, or that we were expecting a storm later.
Ships slid smoothly by, seeking the safety of a harbour or at least to round the Cape before the swells came in. A coastline littered with more than 2000 shipwrecks over the centuries is testimony to the perils of these seas, and many a modern-day ship has ground ashore before our eyes. There will be more.
A dassie (rock hyrax) was heard and seen by some on the climb up, something I have not seen here for decades, and a reminder that lockdown has seen the return of wildlife in an unprecedented way, with caracals and otters, not to mention baboons, in seeming abundance. Domestic pets are being kept in at night whenever possible.
A few bright ericas were found among the greenery - the north-facing slopes favoured for warmth and sunshine - but otherwise looking forward to spring and once again roaming freely in the fynbos.
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