Komwatch - keeping us safer

I went to the local neighbourhood watch meeting tonight. I thought it would be rude not to support it, seeing that we find it so comforting to know that someone else is out there every night and day, patrolling our streets and responding to calls for assistance, and all on a volunteer basis. They are a dedicated team, as are all the neighbourhood watches in this country, unfortunately through necessity, as visible policing seems to have all but disappeared and organised house invasions are the order of the day. These are not, I think, random choices, but informed choices, as the targets always have what they are looking for - jewellery, guns, cash. They aren't interested in TVs or computers unless a car is also available to stash it in.

I don't live in fear of such an invasion, as one look at the cars we drive (all old models) will let them know not to waste their time. I haven't heard yet of a robbery at a house where the thieves got away with nothing. I have thought of putting a sign on the gate: Don't bother! Our fluffy yappers do a pretty good job by way of an alarm system and the fence has deadly spikes. My plan is to install one of those old-fashioned klaxon hooters under the eaves, together with a huge spotlight, and link them to a remote control. In the event of an intruder, I think the noise and light show should give him such a fright he would be gone in a flash.

But in all seriousness, I am prepared to make a cash contribution to the expense of running these patrols of volunteers who enable us to sleep more restfully at night, knowing that they will respond in less than two minutes to our call. I'm afraid I'm just not made of the stuff required to be one of those intrepid volunteers.

Kommetjie rocks - Final resting place for marine mammals

We really are having a late winter! This September must go down as being one of the worst ever - three cold fronts over the last three days and another one tonight and Thursday going to be a big one, we hear. If only we had a row of water tanks to catch all this water - it seems an awful shame to watch it going down the garden in a river on its way to the sea. I suppose we can take comfort from the rising water table which hopefully will see us through the summer months via the wellpoints.

The third duvet has gone back on the bed, together with two dogs and a cat, and two hot water bottles every night! Unheard of even through the darkest nights of July and August! And yet we still cannot complain - every day for a few hours the sun comes out as the clouds blow away ahead of the next cold front. The sea has maintained its storminess and last night it threw vast piles of kelp up onto the path along the rocks - a long time since that has happened, and at half-moon is quite a testament to the weather.

About a week ago, a foul smell of rotting flesh assailed our nostrils as we walked near the lighthouse, and we eventually spotted the carcass of a large seal wedged among the rocks. Hopefully the sea has now reclaimed it to decompose in a more dignified manner away from curious dogs and scavenging rats and crows. I often wonder if they die of natural causes or have been hit by the boats and ships that ply up and down our coastline. Of course, they are not endangered and it is probably just good luck that the rocks aren't littered with more dead seals.

About ten years ago, a whale washed up onto the shelf of rock near the lighthouse and the surrounding area was covered in a thick layer of slippery blubber for a long time after the carcass disappeared. As I recall, the whale was burned by lighting fires all around it at low tide and once the blubber caught alight it didn't take too long before just the skeleton remained. The prevailing wind direction fortunately took the smell and acrid smoke out to sea - it would have been too awful to have that drifting through the house and I'm sure we would have been put off meat for a long time.

Wild September seas

The South Peninsula really does have a different climate to the northern suburbs! We went north to fetch the racing car (it needs a little attention to the gearbox before the last race) in driving rain and howling wind. When we came back over Ou Kaapse Weg, the clouds were clearing and it was obvious that no rain had fallen down south since early in the morning. As the day progressed, the clouds blew away and the sun warmed the daisies, encouraging them to open their snow-white petals for a while so that we could enjoy their simple beauty.

Out to sea, the remnants of the cold front made landfall in the form of the biggest seas so far this winter, and we've had quite a few! A friend who lives two blocks from the sea told me her neighbours had a party last night with lots of doef-doef music and she could still hear the sea over that noise. As ever, the only way to really appreciate these seas is by walking along the beachfront, but I took a few pictures to add to my already excessive collection (thank goodness for digital) and hope to produce a painting or two with these as my inspiration.

Freedom at Cape Point

This afternoon we decided to take advantage of SA National Parks' free access week to selected nature reserves and obviously chose Cape Point, as that is where we have been going for the last 40 years or so. We set off in the Mini in bright sunshine, but as we got closer to Cape Point, dark clouds were gathering on the horizon and we could see that the sunshine would soon be a thing of the past. We took our usual turn down to Olifantsbos which He Who Can Fix Anything has frequented since the age of 3 and if he could live there, he would. In all the years we have been going there, the only fauna we have seen are baboons, bontebok, ostriches and tortoises. If there is anything else at Cape Point, it has yet to put in an appearance for us.

The bokbaai vygies gave a brilliant display in the last of the sunshine and we pulled in at the place where a house used to be many, many years ago. We can no longer find the remains, but I recall 40 years ago seeing odd bricks from the walls lying in the overgrowth. While I remained at the car, looking at birds and flowers, HWCFA took a short hike up the mountain and suddenly called me with some urgency. I rushed up through the trees thinking that there must be something really worth seeing and there was.

Trapped under a low branch and lying on its back, with absolutely no way of ever righting itself, was a large tortoise. I can only think it must have toppled over, perhaps in a fight with another tortoise, and become wedged because of the sloping ground. He lifted the branch while I climbed underneath the bushes and pulled the tortoise free. There was no sign of life and we were very worried that it had already died.

We put it out on the lawn and stepped back to see if a leg or the head would come out, and within a few minutes I am delighted to say he was on his way, apparently fit and well, but there is no doubt that he would have died had we not come across him.

There is no doubt that synchronicity ensured that we would be in that exact place and look down at that exact moment to allow us to rescue that tortoise from certain death.

Working at the wetlands

What a great morning! I joined the men and woman (one) of the City of Cape Town Nature Conservation and Wally Petersen of the Kommetjie Environmental Awareness Group down at Skilpadsvlei, where a large-scale planting of wetland vegetation was taking place. The sky was grey and a cold north-wester was blowing off the Atlantic, but down in the wetland behind the milkwoods the spirit was enthusiastic and willing as we dug, planted, wallowed in the mud and occasionally almost slipped into the vleis. The area has been restored to its original and natural function of a wetland supporting a variety of amphibious and avian life, having been poorly treated over the years as a dumping ground for builders' rubble (illegally, of course).

This year's rain has caused the water to rise far above the expected levels and some of the previous plantings have not fared so well under water, but restios and other plants that love to get their feet wet were the order of the day. At last I had found a use for the garish, yet oddly attractive rubber boots I bought at the beginning of winter and without them, there is no way I would have been able to help under those swampy conditions. There were times when it was like quicksand as I tramped the plants into position and found myself overbalancing as one foot remained firmly clamped in the mud. Luck came my way on Friday the 13th and I didn't find myself face down in the vlei.

Despite grovelling in the mud for many hours without gloves, not one fingernail broke, although it required a good soaking in a basin of bubble bath and very hot water to clean the dirt out afterwards! A local restaurant sent down trays bearing filter coffee to keep the chain gang moving and in three hours we planted three truckloads of plants.

It was really rewarding to be part of the team working there and to know that our rates are being used for conservation purposes still. It makes it seem worthwhile paying them, and to meet the men on the ground and listen to their conversation about what is planned in this arena gives hope for the future.

Snail attack at the rocks

It was too good a day to stay at home doing chores, so this afternoon I went down to the rocks to test the temperature of the water. I can safely say it is whatever temperature makes your feet go numb instantly so that you can't feel how cold it is! To herald the almost onset of Spring, I rolled up my jeans and ventured into a sandy patch, about knee deep, and stood there for fifteen minutes, enjoying the ebb and flow of the tide and the fronds of kelp wrapping themselves around my legs as the rising tide began to fill the bay.

On the rocks nearby, a handful of cormorants sunned themselves, while another dived after fish, being outdone by a gull that divebombed into the water and came up with what looked to be either a large red fish or a very small crayfish! It flew off with its catch to the island where it settled on a rock to get down to the serious business of dinner. A lone oystercatcher hopped from rock to rock, its mate no doubt somewhere close by. I saw a pair of swallows swooping low over the rocks, their wings almost brushing the surface as they pursued insects in fighter jet mode - perhaps two swallows make a summer?

When I climbed back onto the rocks, I found a conical snail attached to my foot and when I tried to prise it off, it took some effort. Blood oozed from where it had been apparently feeding on my foot! The photo shows a rather unattractive foot (!) - it had been in freezing water for a while so that's my excuse - with the evidence of munching. It seems that it's not sharks we should look out for, but snails!

Kommetjie moods

One of those days when life just going on. Some photographs will adequately describe life here!