Today is one of those special winter days in the Cape, where the wind has died down, a low pressure system has brought cloud cover and a few gentle rain showers and the air is so clear you can see the beaches on the other side of False Bay. Soft clouds drift and drape themselves across the peaks and valleys of the Table Mountain chain, separating the valleys in an ever receding array.
From my office window at home I can see the waves crashing and splashing against the granite boulders at the foot of the Sentinel in Hout Bay some kilometres away. Through the same gap between the houses, a crane is loading tons and tons of freshly cut kelp taken from the shallows along this coastline for conversion into plant food. The sea is a murky brown from the churning it received over the last few days. It will be churned again with the approach of another cold front over the weekend, and more sand will be scoured from the beaches as the coastline is subjected to the forces of nature that reshape it over what has become a noticeable time frame. Since I first started coming to Kommetjie some 50 years ago, the sand has eroded and revealed the rocky shore stretching far out at low tide, while high tide laps at the fast-receding dunes.
Much of the sand appears to have been deposited in Hout Bay, and strong southeasters have moved it far inland, devouring one building and scuttling up the main shopping area in an annoying and painful sandblasting of vehicles and legs. Earth-moving machinery has been used to rescue a house destined for burial and rehabilitation of the dune vegetation undertaken to try and hold the dunes in place. In the old days (whenever they were!) the sand would blow up over the nek and down into Sandy Bay, where it would be replenished in a constant cycle from season to season. Housing developments on the dunes have altered this landscape forever. But will Nature reclaim its own? Time will tell.
In the meantime, we will watch the ebb and flow of the tide with interest.
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