Hitting the trail

A small group gathered this morning at the start of the path up to the pipe track above Bakoven for the hike to Slangolie (Snake Oil) Ravine. The impressive buttresses of the Twelve Apostles soared above us and the cable cars could be seen making their entrance and exit from the upper cable station against the sky. It did not take us long to find out why the normal hikers had not pitched up.
The first 200m entailed a possibly 45 degree uphill climb along a concreted jeep track, and many stops were made to admire the view of Camps Bay below us before reaching the relatively easy contour path marking the pipe track.
It was a sparkling Cape Town morning, with the heat of the sun being tempered by the sheltering mountains behind us and the gentle drift of air off the icy Atlantic below. Not a wave broke on the shore, and the swells heaved imperceptibly around the familiar shapes of the granite boulders along the coastline from Bakoven to Clifton. The sound of accelerating motorbikes echoed off the cliffs and then were gone - thankfully replaced by the gentle calling of amethyst sunbirds, sugarbirds, a flock of Cape batis, ravens and a rock kestrel, to mention those slightly more exciting than redwing starlings and rock pigeons.

    

The recent fire that swept across the Twelve Apostles had reached the area we walked through, and it was amazing to see fresh growth already, perhaps helped by recent rain. The path was rocky and loose in places, with a steep drop where an unsteady step would have spelled disaster with no vegetation to break a slide down into the valley below. As we got into the ravine, it narrowed even more and eventually we were holding onto a chain to haul ourselves along the precipitous walkway underneath the pipes. One can only marvel at the skill and determination of those who chipped away and built the path, stairways and pump houses from Table Mountain sandstone back in about 1900 or earlier. And as for getting those pipes in place...!
Our coffee break took place at the foot of a sign saying No Entry Dangerous Ascent. As if...
The walk back was considerably quicker,  and we heard the noon gun firing on Signal Hill when we turned for the final descent to the cars. It was hard to imagine that we had climbed that steep track three hours before. Time on these mountains is time well spent.

Wind and wildfires

The southeaster continues to blast through the Peninsula, and up on top of Ou Kaapse Weg at Silvermine, the hike to the Elephant's Eye on Constantiaberg was cancelled for fear of being blown away. The diversion took us up the jeep track to the Noordhoek ridge, a beautiful walk with forever views and a large variety of fynbos to admire. We still had a bashing from the wind, with hats a-blowing, but at least it was cool - I just had a shirt while everyone else was dressed for winter.
There are some 53 different trails in the mountains up at Silvermine and they are well used, as we passed many groups and individuals, often with dogs - wet from the river - and although it is regarded as a hotspot area for muggings, I can't say the hikers seem to be put off.
Every walk is different due to the weather and I know my least favourite weather is sunny and windless. A stiff breeze to dry the sweat from one's brow and a dark cloud to prevent sunburn must be the most welcome of occurrences! Comfort has a great deal to do with body temperature, and I mine must be higher than average. My mother had a low body temperature that didn't register on a thermometer, and so she was always seeking the sun, rather like a lizard that likes to lounge! We always laughed about that.

 

A hazard of the strong southeaster is that the smallest fire soon rages out of control, and across the Cape Flats near the mountains, a fire was filling the sky with plumes of smoke, soon followed by another near Table Mountain, and by early afternoon the entire area where we had walked was swathed in orange light from the thick smoke. Another fire started on Red Hill near Simon's Town, and much of the veld has been burned, with loss of property in all areas affected and great cost to the always stretched and absolutely heroic members of our voluntary firefighting services. Their work will continue today as all access to Red Hill, Scarborough and the road to Cape Point are closed to traffic. The photo of the liparia above is sadly a prophetic depiction of the flames of destruction. 

Clearing the air

Working most days at the computer for a while - have to earn a living. It only takes a day for the body to seize up and every joint and muscle creaks when I stand up! There's no doubt that the human body was never intended for extended sitting in a chair. Cavemen doubtless squatted on their haunches while tending the fire or holding a piece of meat on a stick at a braai - what did they eat and cook? Did they have implements? Wow! So little known and much to ponder.
Today I only left the house late in the day to get potatoes for the lamb curry. It just felt like a lamb curry kind of day - not winter (who needs winter for a curry?) - but a rather fresh southeaster blasting across the Peninsula and swirling dust and leaves in eddies in every corner. Keeps the gardener busy, but he never turns up, so actually looks like a mess most of the time. There's no fighting the wind in Cape Town.
Next door, in fact three doors, considerable alterations and renovations are taking place. It seems likely that everything is getting readied for the tourist season in Cape Town and it's looking suspiciously as though we will soon be surrounded by air bnb, with barely a permanent resident in sight. Perhaps we should build a cottage in the back garden and let out the main residence. It's one way of boosting the bank account, but on the other hand, there's no privacy and one might as well live in a caravan park with people coming and going every other day. Another reason for turning homes into businesses might be the incredible traffic jams we experience here in Kommetjie, with a 5km trip to the shops sometimes taking half an hour. Best to never leave. Lucky it's such a beautiful place.
You might tell by now that the brain has stultified over the computer today. Tomorrow is hiking in the mountains again, and the cobwebs will all be blown away, together with anything else that's not nailed down!

Walking in the rain

When we open our doors and it's raining, do we go outside and work in the garden, or sit on a bench and revel in the sight of birds fluffing their feathers and enjoying a splash in a puddle? No, we go back inside, make a cup of tea and settle down to watch the tennis, or whatever.
On Friday the forecast was rain. Dark skies spread to the horizon, a hint of what was still to come. Clouds crept over the mountains. The wind was rising. But the hike was not cancelled.
The die-hards met at the Silvermine car park and the weather was fair - not windy, not raining - in fact, ideal walking weather. The river that runs down from the dam on its way under Ou Kaapse Weg wends its way towards False Bay via the substantial Silvermine waterfall and then down through the valley, where most of it is captured in the irrigation system of the golf course, with the run off going into the wetlands. The previous day's good rain had brought it into spate and it was a delight to walk along the banks in thick vegetation to the accompaniment of tinkling water.
 

 Soon enough, the drizzle came and in no time we were all sodden. But were we downhearted? No! The wind picked up from the northwest as forecast and the higher we climbed, the stronger it became. My mist jacket was hopelessly inadequate, but walking makes you hot, so the chill only came when we stopped for coffee and snacks at one of the surprisingly nice picnic spots to be found along the way. Although the rain had stopped, the wind shook huge drops from the leaves overhead, and that was more hazardous as it fell into the coffee mugs. I didn't take my flask for fear of lightning strike after Tuesday's experience - tongue in cheek, but you never know! So there was no warm drink for me, on the very occasion that it would have been most welcome.
Heading back down, a patch of blue appeared in the clouds overhead, and although the wind was chilly, sunshine was our welcome companion all the way back to the cars, while all around us the dark clouds continued to cloak the peaks. Someone was looking after us!

Not quite up Skeleton Gorge

Tuesday was one of the hottest days in a long, long time. Thunderclouds threatened and purply grey sheets covered the skies as we set off for Kirstenbosch. My instinct was to park half way up the mountain in the car park next to the nursery, but unfortunately our starting point was way down at the main entrance, and so the sweltering slog began much earlier than hoped for. The humidity was probably the worst weather factor, and in no time I was mopping my brow with a handy hand towel brought along for such occasions. I fear I do not look my best in the heat, but as a fellow hiker pointed out, we were not there to look glamorous, and so I took solace in those words.
My non-hiking strolls at Kirstenbosch take me on a not-too-strenuous zig-zag, but we strode straight up the hill past ancient wild almonds planted by Jan van Riebeeck (or rather his lackeys) way back in about 1652+. In no time, we had reached the Boomslang treetop canopy walk, and lurched our wobbly way across - I'm sure it swayed more than the first time I ventured over when it opened a few years ago - and we continued up through leafy forest and gorgeous gardens towards the contour path that traverses the slopes of the back of Table Mountain above Newlands.

I stopped many times to enjoy the view (actually to catch my breath) and it was a great relief to find that everyone else was also taking strain in the heat and I wasn't the total wimp of the group.
Rumbles of thunder preceded a few heavy drops of rain, but they were so few that they were easily dodged and our hike was not washed out. We came to the sign indicating Skeleton Gorge and were all massively grateful that our Intrepid Leader had no intention of going any higher up the mountain. We already could see far into the hinterland and didn't need an expanded view.
After the usual diversions onto paths that hadn't been used in 20 years, we eventually persuaded him to take any path, any path, that would lead down to the upper restaurant and lunch.
Lunch was, needless to say, excellent, and best of all, accompanied by the breeze of a giant fan that blew moisture into the air!
Another great walk under the boot!

Post-lightning pondering

Although the thundery weather of the last few days has not brought any rain to my garden, it did bring a flash of lightning right before my eyes and blew up my modem! Currently without internet access at home while I have an alternative to Telkom installed and so I have to go to coffee shops for free Wi-Fi to contact the world on my computer (i.e. emails and blogging). Mobile data only covers basics not business as I have not yet figured out the configurations yet! Doubtless I will eventually catch up.
The proximity of the lightning - I still think it was within metres of me - has left me feeling as though my heart beat has speeded up and it's really quite tiring. Hopefully it will settle down - it may just be separation anxiety for lack of ADSL!
Being confined to the interior of coffee shops has reminded me how much I dislike having to listen to the conversations of the other patrons. I'm well aware that if I were chatting to a friend, they would all have to listen to mine, but what really bugs me is earnest discussions on matters that are too personal for public consumption, or a business meeting that involves phone calls conducted at a level that would put a hilltop to hilltop conversation in the Valley of a Thousand Hills to shame. It is enough to send me off to the nearest Apple store for an iPod to drown it out, if it weren't for the fact that earplugs hurt my ears and I tend to sit with a silly grin on my face when I listen to good music.
I think the problem is that none of these places have curtains or carpets or other soft furnishings to absorb the decibels, and is probably the reason that high-end restaurants with these old-fashioned interiors leave one feeling calm and pampered. Perhaps it's time to soften our surroundings again and ditch the minimalism.

No water, no life

I give up with weather forecasts. There are so many available that it is hard to know which one to choose. Generally I choose the Norwegian one, but there have been so many misses lately that I am more inclined to pick a local forecast. Even those differ vastly and I can only hope that although none of them are forecasting any significant rainfall over Cape Town in the foreseeable (to whom?) future, they will all be completely wrong and a stray cloud will miraculously appear and dump three weeks of rain on us. It seems the only solution, as the authorities have no plan in place to provide its citizens with a supply of water any time soon if Facebook is to be believed.
Apparently the answer to showering and bathing woes is to book into an expensive hotel, where money can buy anything, or at least until the tap no longer yields water. Will these hotels refund their guests if they can't bath? Are they using threadbare towels for three days to save vast volumes of our vital resource? Will they just go home and complain that this is Africa? Probably.
When the water runs out, it won't be a gradual process. It will be nothing from the tap. The mind boggles that there are not ships already anchored off the Peninsula desalinating like crazy. It happens elsewhere. Do our politicians have any idea of the extent of the human disaster that is staring us in the face while political posturing and evil agendas take pride of place over the electorate? I believe they do.