Friday, 22 April 2016

Cape Town - still


It must be Xmas, just had a letter from the fund informing me that my pension's increasing by 5.5% AND there's an ad hoc bonus of a full month to boot - northern Namibia here I come later in the year.  Was at the very prestigeous Baxter Theatre watching local comic Nik Rabinowitz and he started going on about hadedas and how clever they were becoming.  Very soon some fundamental type was sure to start training them as terrorists - Jihadedas!  Next day I made the mistake of visiting World of Birds, which is in a bad way compared to my last visit 15 odd years ago.  There I came across some hadedas that had already been got at by the communists.


Also managed to get personal with the amazing Lady Ross's turaco which does occur in the southern African region - just - but which I'll probably never get to see in the wild, so thought I'd share.


One thing you fairly quickly become accustomed to in Muizemberg is the wind so when when I awoke the other day, I thought I'd gone deaf but no...........see below.  Didn't last long, it's currently gusting at 70 kph and waves are breaking against the opposite shore - poor coots look like ships toss'd 'pon stormy sea.  Saw a couple walking dog and baby on the opposite island recently and when they got to the point the guy hurled something into the water. His blonde labrador galloped at full speed for 10 metres and leapt making a huge splash.  Rushed to get my camera but by the time I was ready the game was over, never seen anything quite so extraordinary.


Hadn't had a dose of ag shame for a while so went to visit the penguins at Boulders, remember swimming here as a nine year old whose parents had mananged to save enough for a 6 week stay in Rhodesia by the Sea, a middle class hotel that's now part of the naval base.  6 weeks, who could afford that today?  And of course all those fish that are now red listed, were on the menu as one course of lunch and dinner.


It's at least 10 years since I took Jo there and it would appear that it's not quite as popular with the little guys as it's been turned into a major tourist attraction but perhaps most of them were off fishing.

Certainly are swimming maestros but when this fellow tried to come ashore some imbecilic German lady kept herding him back so her friend could get pictures - people.


Procceded to the Point but was distracted by a lot of side roads that I hadn't visited before so never got to the lighthouse which is hidden behing the peak on the extreme left of the picture below.  On the way back stopped for lunch at Dixie's near Fish Hoek and just had to sample the pita bread filled with "slithers" of steak or chicken.  Would have thought "slithers of snake" more appropriate..


When I was on Signal Hill some time ago, I noticed some cars parked along the road a lot further along the road from the cable car station and decided to investigate.  Loaded the bike and fought my way past the chaos - the queue must have been half a kilometer long - and drove until a gate barred vehicles, then climbed on the trusty pushy and cycled for another few k's to the base of Devil's Peak.  The tar ended there and as I wasn't inclined to hike to the top I ventured further along the track which steadily deteriorated until my wrists started taking strain from the bouncing. On the way back stopped for this view of Lions' Head and Signal Hill......

......the cable car....

..... and Table Bay.  The cannon's just for show it'd never reach the bay.


There's an awful lot of empty real estate behind Hout Bay and I decided to explore.  Couldn't find any access from the town itself and really wasn't enjoying the smell from the fish factory so headed for the hills.  Found a very larney suburb called Mount something but every house was fortified to the hilt and you could still smell the factory.  Weird how some people choose to live.  Eventually ended up in Llandudno which has an idyllic beach and found the car park for Sandy Bay, which if I remember is a nudie beach - will have to put that on the to do list.

Had to do Cape Point and on the way took a stroll through part of Simonstown, very quaint and still has a "British Hotel" and lots of other beautifully restored buildings.


Have been to the Point any number of times but never noticed this before, shades of the Matopas outside my home town.

As an extra 4 kilos have mysteriously appeared around my waist I shunned the funicular and joined a United Nations of cheapskates puffing and blowing their way to the top.  The world is now awash with morons toting selfie sticks, whose only reason for travel is to take pictures of themselves in exotic and even totally mundane locations.

The lighthouse was another cast iron structure and I still haven't firured out a) how they got the pieces there and b) how they connected them - this was 1904 after all.  Turns out it wasn't such a brilliant place to put a light as even though it is visible 70 k's out, it's often shrouded in mist, as the unfortunate passengers and crew of the Lusitania found out a few years later.


Another of the places I hadn't visited since childhood was Groot Constantia, ah nostalgia.  Most impressive gardens, extremely colonial with some of the oaks originally planted by Van der Stel still alive after 300 years odd.  And squirrels ...... and starlings ..............damn Rhodes.


Something which many people don't know was that I considered myself quite the Stirling Moss (Google him if you're less than 60) in my youth and dabbled in amateur rallying and racing.  Thus I was drawn to a track day at Killarney to see what the locals had to offer and was I astonished.  Though small, the track is technical and the infrastructure comprehensive and apparently wholly owned and run by WP Motor Club.  Most of the track is in an industrial area but one side faces Blouberg Strand which is creeping ever closer.  In response to complaints about noise an enormous earth wall has been built, on which it is possible to park and have a birds-eye view from 20 m up, brilliant.


Spent a very pleasant afternoon watching everything from V8 monsters (below) to clubman's, formula Ford and bikes, thoroughly entertaining.


As cabin fever was beginning to bite I headed for the hills of Franschhoek for a couple of nights and happened on the Motor Museum in the grounds of L'Ormarins estate. Another absolute delight, four huge barns filled with vehilces of every age, all in pristine condition and all roadworthy.  It was only later that I found out that most of them belong to Anton Rupert.  I'm not a huge fan but 5 late model Ferrari's including an F40 and F50 must be worth an eye-watering amount.



One section contained a few single seaters, three of which I have actually seen racing.  The bright orange, Gunston sponsored BRM was driven by my home town hero John Love and lurking in the background a Wolf Racing F1 car that was driven by SA's only F1 champion, Jody Scheckter.  He was know as "Sideways" when he raced a Renault R8 and in the only race I ever shared a track with him I was one of the few who managed to avoid having his paint smeared along the flanks of my car.  I think he lapped me three times in a 20 lap race.


Personal favourite, this dinky 7 hp Zebra that enjoyed a very limited production run in 1903.


Franschhoek has myriad wine estates but would you believe I only visited one.  Instead I spent time atlassing but over a period of 30 hours managed to record only 27 species, even though I took an early morning drive up the pass towards Villiersdorp.


The reason I went to Dieu Donne wine estate was because the landlady had recommended it's restaurant and the view.  Well the view was stupendous, the tasting room lavish and the restaurant totally out of my league, so my visit was curtailed.  Driving back to my cottage, I passed the Heugenot Memorial erected in honour of the persecuted French who ended up with the wrong religion and fled here to start a new life.


Well the wind has just managed to rip a couple of sheets off Jane's porch and hurled one of them right over the house into the neighbours' garden.  No other damage fortunately.


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