Post road-tripping!

Well, gawrsh! as Goofy would say, isn't this such a beautiful country we live in? A quick road trip from Kommetjie to Little Brak River on the Garden Route took us up hill and down dale, along dusty country roads, immaculate highways, and past the rolling foothills of the mountains of the Western Cape. Many rivers drain from the interior through canyons sliced through the mountains over millennia, some in full flow despite a long, dry summer, and allowing irrigation of crops along their banks to cover the hills in soft greenery. The drive through Du Toit's Kloof towards the tunnel was, as always, spectacular, with the added advantage of my being able to take photographs as the passenger. I imagined we were being watched from a rocky perch on high by the recently photographed female leopard and her two cubs - testimony to the wildness of the place.

A random thought of bungee jumping off the Gouritz River bridge elicited many comments from friends and family, both concerned for my state of mind and cheering me on, so imagine my disappointment and relief to find that the jump is no longer operated there. A satisfactory ending all round.
A strong southeaster over the Peninsula brought rain to the southern cape as is the normal weather pattern, but such gentle rain as to be imperceptible except that it hid the mountains from view. We stayed with an old friend at Riverside Resort, a truly idyllic camp site with chalets and excellent facilities up the Little Brak River.We stayed in one of the permanent homes, and couldn't have been more comfortable. Silence reigned. No TV or radio. The mooing of cows in a nearby field; a rooster crowing at dawn; the call of a pair of fish eagles roosting on a dead tree on the river bank.

One purpose of the trip was to attend the second anniversary of the local astronomy club started by Andrew when he moved up there two years ago, and it was marvellous to see the huge turnout, nearly 70 people, to listen to a fascinating talk by well-known astronomer among other things, Case Rijsdijk. I was honoured to be asked to give a short speech on the SPARC club in Fish Hoek and of course went off on a tangent about going out and looking up rather than looking at pictures, but I think it went down well enough! It was unexpected and off the cuff, as I like it.

Next time our trip will be longer, as there are many interesting places to visit close by, and the drive warrants time out for browsing along the way.

A morning at the Revenue

An unplanned visit to the local Revenue office took up my morning. Having tried unsuccessfully for some months to sort out a problem with them telephonically and via email (what a surprise), I girded my loins and set off to do battle.
Just driving into town was again one of those unloved experiences with some unbelievably bad driving in evidence - can you believe that people actually stop on Ou Kaapse Weg to let cars feed in from Noordhoek? It's not a 4-way stop and one can only shake one's fist at the misguided individuals who almost cause multiple pile-ups for the unsuspecting drivers coming round the bend to find an unexpected stationary car. And let me not mention the roadhogs who hold up the rest of the traffic by travelling at 20kmh below the speed limit.
On approaching the SARS building, I was dismayed to see a queue snaking round the building. It was obviously many years since I had had the pleasure. I was directed to the back of the queue - let me add that the southeaster was what the weatherman euphemistically calls 'fresh' - where I was told that the queue manager would ask me where I wished to go. And he duly did, sticking a green sticker on the back of my hand and pointing me to another gratifyingly short queue. I had hardly joined it when a very efficient woman came out of the building and issued orders for a further redistribution of the queues, in a way I would think resembled the mustering of the passengers and crew on the deck of a sinking ship.
Within five minutes I was at a desk where my cellphone number was tapped into a screen and a message came up with my number and directions to the 3rd floor - all from a glance at the green sticker on my hand.
Up in the lift into a room filled with personnel waiting to assist the 20 or so people looking relaxed in some quite comfortable chairs. A screen overhead called each number and directed us to the relevant desk. Turnover time was impressive. We were constantly receiving information on the progress of the queue.
My turn came and I can only say that the lady was helpful, knowledgeable, sympathetic and made the whole experience a pleasure. Just under two hours from arrival to departure was not an excessive time.
The overall assessment: surprising, orderly, well organised, good communication, efficient, a simple system that works.

Cape Town weather

So after a forgotten number of days of windless, unbelievably humid conditions, I'm standing outside holding the hose, when the edge of a bank of clouds sweeps in from the south, preceded by a branch-bending, reed-rustling gust of wind. A typical change in the weather modus operandi for Cape Town. The sacred ibis are blowing back to their roosts in an untidy flock - no neat and symmetrical V-formation. They can't wait to get back and are no doubt grateful for a, literally, tail-wind.
The sky, which only moments earlier was a clear blue, is a maelstrom of foggy grey cloud speeding low across the sea. Rain may have fallen on the mountain areas. The palm trees are bending and all the doors have slammed. The temperature has dropped by about 5 degrees and if it weren't for the wind, it would be just what the doctor ordered. Funny how we are never quite happy - it's either too calm and hot or too cold and windy - no happy medium.
It's the suddenness of the change, I suppose. Piles of papers that have sat undisturbed on the corner of a desk are now all over the floor and well on their way out of the door. Pictures are askew, the puppy is completely overexcited by all this sudden activity and jumping up and barking at everything. Completely the opposite of yesterday, when peace reigned!
Luckily the soaking I gave the garden yesterday is holding the dust down and it's lovely and cool.
I suspect that this was nature's way of marking the last rider in on the Cape Town Cycle Tour - more than 35 000 cyclists sweated it out over 109km - and a signal that we can reclaim our roads.

End of the day

With humidity levels at 80%, we can almost swim through the air today. For unknown reasons, I decided it was time to do some serious remodelling of the lawn in the area where I have planted indigenous shrubs and agapanthus, and I set about pulling out buffalo runners from places they shouldn't be and cutting them into 2-inch lengths with a root in the middle. Then I planted them in a big area of lawn, about 6 inches apart and covered them with lawn dressing and chicken manure. The whole area was fenced in with that green hoop fencing that slots together. The purpose of that is to keep Cleo off the lawn, and it was a relief to find that although her head and front feet came through the gap, her fat little tummy couldn't make it!
A thorough watering followed, and then a little thunder shower came along to help. It lessened the humidity fractionally and I set about directing the men of the house to move an incredibly heavy birdbath from one end of the garden to the new lawn area. I don't often get a chance to order anyone about, so made sure it was a proper job. Now we just have to wait and see if the birds will come, as they wouldn't bath next to the fiddlewood where it was before, as cats could lurk and birds are clever. I can now see the birdbath from the deck and hope to snap a few photos one of these fine days.
The strange weather has made for some interesting and quite beautiful cloud formations (you know I am particularly fond of clouds), with spectral wisps of mist enveloping the lower slopes of Chapman's Peak and snaking across the sea in patches. To the north, a large thunderhead is climbing its way to the stars and with luck a few more drops of soothing rain will reach the ground overnight. The 6 o'clock flight to wherever has passed overhead, I'm writing this
on the deck looking over the sea, dinner is almost served and peace reigns.

Peaceful in paradise

Today is a day for relaxing in the shade of the coprosma, either with a good book or, if you're like me, looking up to see what's happening overhead. The danger of being pooped on by a prinia or a chattering flock of Cape white-eyes has passed, as the berries have all been eaten, with only a few remaining, raisin-like, on the twigs overhead. (And just to prove me wrong, one little white-eye has alighted to tease me with its preference for dried fruit!)
Dozens of swallows are snatching up myriad insects, for which we are truly grateful, and it's a pleasurable sight to see them swooping so effortlessly and freely with such joyous abandon. A light aircraft buzzes by, seeming clumsy and out of place among such graceful flight. A helicopter, looking just like a flying tadpole, joins the melee, carrying passengers to marvel at the Peninsula in all its beauty. There is no doubt that an aerial view is the best, which gives me a great idea that will come to fruition all in good time.
Beside me, little Cleo is munching on some roots. I have strong suspicions that she is a vegetarian doggie, as she eats just about anything in the garden and particularly enjoys digging up roots. She has something in common with the porcupine, as both also enjoy a bit of a chew on a hosepipe. Apart from her munching, all is peaceful in paradise.

How to clean an oven

Is it just me, or do you also find that oven cleaners don't work? Aside from the fact that probably most of you don't attend to such menial tasks around the house (again, is it just me?), how often should it be cleaned anyway? I tend to use my oven a lot and favour the 'open roast' method, which of course results in huge amounts of hot fat splattering all over and coating the inside of the oven. But when you cook with an iron pot (or is it just me who does?), this very action is much sought after as it seasons and lays down a patina to give the pot a smooth, rust-free finish, preventing that metallic after-taste when cooking in the future.
I have to say that I have used practically every oven cleaner known to man, including bicarb and vinegar, and the chemical versions give off such deadly fumes that to put one's head in the oven is to risk one's life. Not only that, but the next batch of scones will have a distinctly chemical flavour.
I have tried the cleaning cream that is currently being sold by those smooth-tongued, slick salesmen at flea markets. It sure does work there, but not a hope in Hades when you get it home. I recently cleaned out my cleaning cupboard and threw everything away.
I will have to just stick to the modus operandi I have followed for years: once the oven gets to a really past-it patina, I chuck it out and buy a new one.

Cooling down

March. The autumn equinox approaches on 20 March and on that day spring may be officially celebrated in the northern hemisphere. It has been autumnal for a few days now in Kommetjie and we can bask in the sunshine without blistering, soothed by a gentle sea breeze and enjoy the gentle glow of sunset on the rocky cliffs above the lighthouse.
The sea has been silky smooth, with a heavy shore break sent up from the south, and the cul de sacs (or culs de sac) along the bay have been parked in by surfers who have no fear of either the cold water or strong seas. We've had a few spectacular sunsets, although these reach a peak in May, when just the right kind of cloud formations occur. This is when  keen photographers become like the storm chasers of the American mid-West who chase tornadoes. Cars buzz up and down the sea front and up the mountain road above the lighthouse, to capture that perfect shot of sea, sky and cloud.  It is sometimes quite breathtaking that nature can produce such awe-inspiring colours out of literally thin air. And one can never tire of a sunset. Like watching the waves rolling in, it soothes the soul.
Sometimes I need a lot of soul-soothing and sitting on the rocks watching the constant motion of the waves, unstoppable and the most powerful force of nature, I understand why it is that I live in this place.