Crystal Cruises culinary delights

The final few days of the Crystal Symphony cruise were regrettably washed out due to the recent tropical cyclone that caused mudslides on the islands, so no sightseeing, mountains clouded over and extreme humidity meant that it was just more comfortable on board. Here are a few reminders of the outstanding cuisine offered on board, with some of the dishes being only half portions as I didn't have the capacity to consume any more! They were truly memorable, as was the entire Crystal Cruises experience, and I would highly recommend this ship to anyone seeking genteel living on the ocean wave.
Parting was such sad, sweet sorrow!

Duck w/fruits

Caviar 

Sublime pate

Angus fillet and prawns

Lobster

Crème brulee

Chinese lamb chops - succulent and tender

Hand-painted china and silver

Ravioli - half portion - should have had full!

Veal schnitzel

Duck w/berries - another half portion mistake!

A little decadence

Cheese?

Not your average fish cake

Angus Beef Wellington

More food!

Enough already!

Plant your fields with the future you want

Oh, woe is the world! If ever there was compelling evidence for more intelligent life in all parts of the universe, this must be it. With social media giving voices to trolls, morons, hate-spreaders, bigots and other forms of low life, it is inconceivable that we could be considered an intelligent life form or even civilised. With electioneering and governments around the world demonstrating just how low we can go, it is without doubt time to give serious thought to how we got into this situation and how we can get out of it. There is more than enough literature on solutions, but how to persuade the sheep to stop going 'baaaa' and look for a new field?

A field of all possibilities, which is what the universe is. Pure potential waiting to be turned into a reality of your choosing!

The reality I am currently choosing is to sit outside in the warm autumn sunshine, where blue skies stretch endlessly overhead and birds float by on thermals, taking them silently home to roost. The sea ebbs and flows nearby in ceaseless motion, constantly lapping at the shores of this great continent, where land first emerged from the seas to establish the environment for life, culminating in our current species, which must surely be a work in progress. A short way up the coastline, a huge excavation of dinosaur and other animal bones may be seen, the result of a massive and catastrophic wash-away in the distant past that swept them down to the coast and dumped them in a delta in a tangled mass of bodies. In the Karoo we can see scrapes from a glacier on the rocks, evidence of a once much colder climate in this now barren and extreme land.

This should surely be enough evidence that everything changes and nothing stays the same. What are the chances that we, the human race, are also just part of the cycle of life on this planet and we, too, will cease to exist? Pretty good, I would say. So why not take advantage of the natural beauty, herbs and plants and animal produce we have been given for our very survival and enjoy our time here, living in peace with each other and sharing Nature's bounty rather than joining the bandwagon of the power-hungry who rule by fear and loathing? Let them also reap what they sow.

Plant your fields with the future that you want.

Magnificent morning in the vineyards

The vernal vineyards of Groot Constantia were the setting for yesterday's walk. That had a nice ring to it, didn't it? Unfortunately it is not spring, and so they are the autumnal vineyards, and very beautiful they are, with the vine leaves just starting to turn yellow, orange and deep rust. It was a fairly gentle stroll, with an initial very steep incline to get us to the highest point of the vineyards to enjoy the stunning views across to the distant mountains and False Bay.
Although there is no shade along the way, the vines are mature enough to provide the height of a small tree and so there was ample opportunity to sit by the wayside and enjoy a grape or two. The bulk of the harvest appears to have been picked, as only the lower parts of the vines still bear

grapes, and these dark purple, tiny, tightly packed bunches must be destined for something very sweet if the sugar content is anything to go by. The pips are disproportionately large in relation to the grape, which was quite surprising. Rather like the avocado variety that only has 1cm of flesh around its pip - you feel cheated.
We passed others in the vineyards - a group of young students, perhaps of viticulture, listening to a lecture on the cultivars - three people sampling the grapes very studiously, perhaps winemakers - and a man in a newly dug over field taking GPS readings, perhaps for a building? There were no other walkers, but I would highly recommend the farm for this activity, being safe and accessible, but mostly because of the opportunity for an excellent meal and a glass or two of their finest wine after your exercise, in the pleasant shade of ancient oaks planted possibly 333 years ago!

Sandy Bay and Oudeschip

Mike Lundy wrote in 1997 (Cape Times) "Crossing Sandy Bay on a hot day over a weekend, dressed in mountain boots and backpack, you might feel the need to stare blankly at the sand one metre directly ahead of you as you walk. This way, you’ll avoid feeling awkward about being overdressed.

We didn't do the walk on a weekend, although today was perfect beach weather and roughly a dozen nudists were out and about, so to speak. We did feel inclined to ditch the mountain boots and backpacks as the sea was that incredible turquoise that only the Peninsula's Atlantic Ocean takes on after a good southeaster, and looked so enticing. But we knew it would be icy cold and decided to settle for a beer later. We (I speak for myself) only gave the fellow beach strollers a passing glance out of interest and to confirm various urban legends, and otherwise maintained an air of nonchalance at our overdressed-ness!

The hike from the Sandy Bay carpark to Oudeschip covers 6.5km return and involves a bit of rock scrambling and a very steep climb if you feel so inclined. We hugged the rocky shore, clambering over shapely granite boulders that characterise this coastline and offer shelter from wind and sun, and excellent sunbathing if you have a thick towel to soften the knobbles! Weathering scoops out fascinating shapes and we passed one that had been transformed into a habitable cave, unfortunately with the accompanying human habit of disgusting litter which detracted from the picturesque scenery.

A cooling breeze from the southwest held off the heat of the day for a while, and years of fire damage meant that there were no shady trees along the way, but also a clear view for miles around, something we all have to be very aware of these days. It was a great walk, with stunning views and the freshest air on the planet. You should do it.

Charging up the Channel

The continuing saga of my Crystal Symphony adventure...
After Maputo, our next port of call would be La Reunion, and our course would take us across the Indian Ocean, just passing south of Madagascar. My heart sank to the bottom of my sandals when I opened up Facebook and saw a message from a well-wisher informing us of the tropical cyclone building up off Mauritius, predicted to be the worst since 2002. This scenario had been lurking in the back of my mind for weeks, knowing that it was cyclone season, and I didn't know whether I was ready for such excitement at this stage of my life. I spotted the hapless captain of this fine vessel and scurried over, trying to keep a hysterical squeak out of my voice, and asked if he thought I should jump ship before we left Maputo. He very gravely told me he was monitoring the situation carefully, as if to say, you silly woman, would I endanger my ship? And of course I knew he wouldn't, so I decided to stay aboard. I did suggest to him that I would love it if he went up the Mozambique Channel, and we left it at that. Meanwhile, other passengers were starting to talk about the cyclone and how they had been aboard in 30-foot waves on other occasions and had a marvellous time - it just meant a lot of crockery went flying at dinner.
The ship sailed at sunset and once again slipped silently into the dusk, leaving the lights of Maputo far behind us. On waking the next morning, I looked through the window and could see that our speed had picked up considerably. We were fairly flying over a mirror smooth sea. I flicked on the onboard channel and breathed easily again - we were on our way up the Mozambique Channel and our speed had increased from 11knots to 20knots - flying indeed! So it was time to relax and enjoy the ride.
I think it took us 5 days to La Reunion from Maputo, quite a detour, and the trip up the Channel was smooth and comfortable. Then we rounded the northern end of Madagascar and turned for the islands, meeting the swells emanating from the cyclone, which had by then reached Mauritius, and suddenly it was a floating 6-star hotel with added dipping and diving. The horizon was no longer horizontal and one could feel the juddering as the bow bit deep into an oncoming swell and then the floor would part from the soles of your feet as it rose again. Passengers and crew alike succumbed to seasickness, although my sea legs were steady, and there was plenty of banter about lurching in the lounges and drifting in the dining room. An evening show was cancelled as it would have been impossible for the performers to maintain their balance, and on the dancefloor the dancers lurched from one side to the other, adding a few extra steps to the routine. The waiters did a sterling job balancing trays of drinks, obviously accustomed to adverse conditions, but I'm sure more than one onion rolled off a table in the galley.
It was actually quite uncomfortable proceeding at speed into those swells, and we had to brace ourselves most of the time, which had the advantage of using muscles that possibly wouldn't have had any exercise! The most startling thing was waking up one night and finding that I was barely touching the mattress! The situation wasn't helped by the sudden appearance of new lifejackets in the corridors overnight - we were assured that it was merely a routine replacement of the existing ones and had nothing to do with the weather. Bad timing.
Oh, yes! The captain came over to me a few days after our first conversation and said, "You see, I took your advice!" A true officer and a gentleman.

Another jaunt into the country

This week it was off into the country for an informal gathering of stargazers and other assorted astronomers! Our usual venue for the Southern Star Party was unavailable and so a more relaxed schedule (no schedule) meant that hardened scientific fact gatherers did not attend, but the sociability was as stimulating as ever. Bonnievale is famous for being either blazing hot or cold and windy with a chance of rain. This week brought both. Capetonians have become weather-watchers of note and fiercely defend their choice of weather 'channel'. I favour those Norwegians, as do many others, but each is convinced their forecaster is correct. I scanned the forecast every few hours as departure day neared, sometimes pushing it backwards or bringing it back to Thursday and eventually I was lucky enough to make the right decision and arrive after the rain, book into a caravan rather than my trusty tent, and wait for the clouds to blow away.
What a shock on arrival to see that the beautiful dam, such a feature of the Night Sky caravan farm, was but a puddle in a muddy basin. It is sobering to realise how much we rely on water for Life - obviously totally and completely - but in the sense of how vast expanses of water enhance our enjoyment and appreciation of nature. All the dams are empty and the farm is currently irrigated via Brandvlei.

 The whole area is covered in vineyards and orchards, so farming is intense and looking prosperous. Hopefully winter rain and snow will bring the Breede River back to healthy levels this year.

I was soon settled in and chatting to familiar faces, seen only every six months but the conversations just carry on! In no time I had the finder scope and secondary mirror adjusted and lined up on the 8-inch Orion dobby which I haven't been able to use for about 3 years - a bunch of amateur astronomers just can't resist showing their skills and of course, they are just the nicest people, all with their little quirks from spending hours alone under a dark sky looking for an elusive galaxy.

True to form, Bonnievale was very windy, overcast and chilly in the day, but every night at about 9 the wind dropped, the clouds magically disappeared, and the Milky Way stretched from horizon to horizon in a blazing arc of billions of stars. No lights are allowed, nor are they needed. Starlight is brighter than you think, and once your eyes are dark-adapted, it is easy to navigate across a field of telescopes. It also makes for plenty of witty conversation.

Sunset brought the birdlife down to the puddle, and the variety was interesting for an amateur birder like me - a hamerkop (haven't seen one since I was about 4), water thick-knees, 3-banded plovers, hoopoe, yellow-billed duck, egrets, spoonbills, blacksmith plovers, Namaqua doves, wagtails, robins, fiscal flycatcher, weavers, sparrows - but unfortunately not the pair of fish eagles that fed there before. There are still fish in the puddle, but their lifespan looks to be fairly short now.

I would say that the seeing was possibly the best of any Star Party I have been to, and it was well worth the hours of staring upwards, neck at an uncomfortable angle, wondering why nobody had brought a flask of hot chocolate, to see two moons, Ganymede and Io, transit their planet, Jupiter. Truly a sight to behold!

Up to the waterfall again

We hiked up to Cecilia Waterfall about a month ago and did it again yesterday. My fitness has undoubtedly increased as the Fitbit indicated less than half an hour of cardio during the 3.5 hour walk, and yet it felt like the most difficult climb yet. I huffed and puffed the whole way up and sweated buckets of perspiration (although I am told that only horses sweat - women glow), so either we walked too fast (possible) or I am not breathing properly (probable). I was not alone in my labouring, and it was surprising that the general feeling was that of a bit beyond our range. It may have been due to humidity with low cloud and windless conditions, but it goes to show that no two hikes are ever the same.
There were many examples of the exquisite gladiolus montiflora or autumn painted lady to admire along the way, but for reasons known only to itself, my cellphone camera just refused to focus on them and so I cannot share this marvel that occurs only in very specific parts of the Cape Peninsula. You will have to go and look for yourself. It's well worth it. (Blurred photo included)
The waterfall was dripping more substantially than last time, which maybe indicates that even though we think we are not getting rain, something is falling out of the sky! The drops were too heavy to make me want to stand under it again, so I made do with a short video of the tinkling waters as they babbled across the rocks and tumbled downwards on their journey to the sea, crystal clear and hopefully pristine!
This is quite a tough hike, with seemingly interminable upward stretches and the odd scramble, and the downward trail towards Kirstenbosch is daunting for those with bad knees, but anyone with the slightest inclination to enjoy to the beauty that the Peninsula has to offer should put it on their bucket list. I'm looking forward to seeing that waterfall gushing to its full potential this winter. We can only hope!